(florneU Imoeraitg Sltbratg 
 
 3tt|aca, New fork 
 
 FROM THE 
 
 BENNO LOEWY LIBRARY 
 
 COLLECTED BY 
 
 BENNO LOEWY 
 
 1854-1919 
 BEQUEATHED TO CORNELL UNIVERSITY 
 
Cornell University Library 
 PR 4028.A68V5 
 
 Verses, collected and sprinted, as a mem 
 
 3 1924 013 207 828 
 
Cornell University 
 Library 
 
 The original of this book is in 
 the Cornell University Library. 
 
 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924013207828 
 
VERSES. 
 
 COLLECTED AND EEPEINTED, AS 
 
 % ^&mitnta iot Jfrwnbs. 
 
 SIE JOSEPH ARNOULD, 
 
 PUISNE JUDGE OF THE SUPREME COXTET AT BOMBAY. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 PRINTED FOR PRIVATE CIRCULATION. 
 
 1859. 
 
^17^1 
 
 LONDON : 
 BRADBURY AND EVANS, PRINTERS, WHITEFRIABS. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 HOSPICE OF ST. BERNARD 
 LORD DENMAN 
 SIR ROBERT PEEL 
 HAVELOOK . 
 EPITHALAMIUa 
 
 PAGE 
 5 
 
 . 20 
 
 . 25 
 
 . 31 
 
 . 34 
 
HOSPICE OF ST. BERNAED. 
 
 (A Prize Poem, eeoited in the Theatke, Oxeoed, Juke 10, ] 834 ; 
 
 IHE TEAK OF THE DuKB OF WBlLIIfGIOlf'S INSTALLATION.) 
 
 ^schyli Agam. 874. 
 
 Fast fades the day ; the winds have sunk to sleep, 
 Monastic Bernard ! on thy lonely steep ; 
 Like halcyons hov'ring o'er their ocean nest, 
 The golden clouds are gath'ring into rest 
 O'er the far peaks, where still the sunset flings 
 A gleam of splendour from his parting wings. 
 And stars, like faery visions, dimly bright, 
 Now melt in air, now tremble into light. 
 
 Night deepens round — the Spirit of Kepose 
 Breathes o'er the darkling crags, and boundless snows ; 
 
b HOSPICE OF ST. BBKNARD. 
 
 No voice disturbs their gloom ; no living form 
 
 Cheers the still scene, or haunts the realms of storm ; 
 
 No more the eagle, wheeling to the sky. 
 
 Pours through the sullen waste her echoing cry : 
 
 The wolf's long howl, that rose upon the gale, 
 
 The cataract's roar, the pine-wood's fitful waO, 
 
 As the faint chime of some aerial lay 
 
 Melts from the dreamer's ear, have died away. 
 
 Yes — stern the scene ! — magnificently drear ! 
 No sound to ravish, and no sight to cheer ; 
 Yet to the soul more speaking, than the page 
 Of loftiest poet, or divinest sage. 
 Proclaims in characters of heavenly birth. 
 Graved on the star-lit sky — ^the slumbering earth. 
 That He, who framed them both, the Power Divine, 
 Still in the desert rears his chosen shrine ; 
 StUl loves to commune with his erring child 
 On the lone mountain, and the pathless wild ; 
 And, far from human cares, from fev'rish strife. 
 The storm of passion, and the stir of life ; 
 
HOSPIOE OP ST. BERNARD. 
 
 When earth breathes peace below, and heaVn above 
 
 Is bright with hope, and redolent of love, 
 
 He bids each sense awake, each feeling soar, 
 
 The spirit kindle, and the heart adore ; 
 
 Tni to the awe-struck wand'rer's musing breast 
 
 E'en Silence speaks, and Solitude is blest. 
 
 The stars are forth — the moon serenely bright 
 Walks in calm beauty through the waste of night ; 
 Beneath her beams, like silv'ry clouds on high, 
 The pale snows glimmer in the dark blue sky ; 
 And as the shadows wander, vale and steep 
 Now gleam in light, now wrapt in darkness sleep. 
 
 Oft at this twilight hour, her quiv'ring rays 
 Stream through the chflfs, to greet the wanderer's gaze ; 
 As, faint and worn from many a peril past. 
 The rushing avalanche, and the roaring blast, ' 
 
 He slowly climbs, where closing mountains lean 
 In shadowy grandeur, o'er the hush'd ravine ; 
 
 B 2 
 
o HOSPICE OF ST. BEENARD. 
 
 Where beneath beethng crags, and drifted snows, 
 In chamel cell, the unwasting * dead repose ; 
 And moonlit crosses rising through the gloom. 
 In spectral silence point the pilgrim's tomb. 
 
 Alike they sleep in that sepulchral grot. 
 Their death unhonour'd, and their name forgot ; 
 In life's last hour unsoothed by pitying tear, 
 Their last deep sigh unheard by mortal ear ; 
 No cof&n guards their day, no shelt'ring stone, 
 Their only dirge the wild wind's hollow moan. 
 When through the grated loopholes, harsh and loud. 
 Sweeps the chill blast, and waves each eddying shroud — 
 Well might the wanderer linger there, to scan 
 The might of Nature and the wreck of Man ; 
 But lo ! th' ascent is won — the mountain hoar. 
 The lake's black calm,t the hush'd and frozen shore, 
 
 * The charnel of the passeDgers is a small chapel, built under a 
 cliff to the east of the Hospice, and just within view of it : owing 
 to the cold, the bodies are long preserved from putrefaction. 
 
 t The lake always appears black, from the dazzling whiteness of 
 the surrounding snows. 
 
HOSPICE OF ST. BERNARD. 
 
 And 'mid the snows, yon structure rude and vast, 
 Rear'd like some rock-built palace of the blast, 
 Rush on his gaze — and faint, as smiles that play 
 O'er the wan lips that fade in young decay ; 
 So cold ! so cheerless ! — desolately falls 
 The misty moonlight on the bleak, gray walls, 
 Seamed by the scars of Time ; and deeper rents 
 Stamp'd by the wrath of Men and Elements. 
 No Sculpture there her gothic tracery weaves, 
 Piles the tall shaft, or twines the clust'ring leaves ; 
 But the rude carving of the storm has thrown 
 A time-worn aspect o'er each mould'ring stone. 
 
 Hark ! o'er the lake the choral notes combine. 
 In mingling cadence, from the lonely shrine ; 
 The dark-robed brethren of the Hospice there. 
 Close with a deep-toned hymn their ev'ning prayer ; 
 While one who long has listen'd to the beat 
 And far-off echoes of ascending feet. 
 Still keeps his moonlight watch, and seems to wait 
 The way-worn wanderer at the welcome gate. 
 
10 
 
 HOSPICE OP ST. BERNAJRD. 
 
 The threshold past — around their frugal board 
 His toils forgotten, and his strength restored ; 
 As the red pine-fire throws a flickering blaze 
 O'er the rude hall, delighted shall he gaze 
 On many a lofty brow, and speaking eye. 
 In that unknown, yet friendly company ; — 
 While the blithe laugh, and pleasure-stirring sound 
 Of cheerful converse, gaily echoes round. 
 As from the stranger of the world below. 
 They learn the changeful tale of weal and woe. 
 
 Oh ! other lyres of graver tone may praise 
 The convent's wakeful nights, and languid days ; 
 Religion bids me weep — and Reason sigh 
 O'er the lorn heart's uncheer'd captivity. 
 That chiUs each tenderer impulse, and reproves 
 What Heav'n has sanction' d, and what Nature loves : 
 By priestly craft, or jealous power desigu'd 
 To curb the aspirings of the manly mind ; 
 While Genius pines, and Feeling's early flowers, 
 Droop in the sickly shade of joyless hours. 
 
HOSPICE OP ST. BEENABD. 11 
 
 Not mine to laud the penance, and the chain, 
 
 Ascetic toils, or self-inflicted pain ; 
 
 Or trace to heavenly sotirce the zeal that piled 
 
 Fond Simeon's pillar in the Syrian wild ;* 
 
 Or that false faith whose meteor-smile illumes 
 
 La Trappe's cold cells, or Nubia's peopled tombs ;t 
 
 Where dark-brow'd zealots vex the weary nights 
 
 With ghastly orgies, and mysterious rites. 
 
 Breathe 'mid remorseful sighs the frequent prayer. 
 
 Live without love, scarce die without despair. 
 
 Such are Devotion's feverish dreams, that ply 
 The fool with taunts, and wake the wise man's sigh ; 
 Far loftier hopes St. Bernard's sons allure. 
 Their faith erroneous, but their practice pure ; 
 And nobler ardour nerves their hearts to mock 
 The frost's keen power, and brave the tempest's 
 shock. 
 
 * Simeon Stylites lived forty-five years in the Syrian desert, on 
 a pillar gradually raised till it reached the height of sixty feet. 
 
 ■f The ruined tombs of Upper Egypt are (or were) filled by 
 monks of the sternest cast. — Gibboh, vol. vi. 
 
12 HOSPICE OF ST. BBBNAED. 
 
 The ling'ring memories of departed hours, 
 Youth's worshipp'd dreams, and beauty's roseate bowers, 
 Th' unbidden thoughts that kindle fond regret 
 For joys e'en virtue cannot all forget. 
 Come soften' d through the calm : Earth's sorrows wind 
 A sweet sad influence o'er the musing mind, 
 Felt, but to vanish, like the hues that glow 
 In Summer's twilight on the mountain snow. 
 
 Theirs is the sunshine of the heart, that springs 
 From high-soul'd deeds, and heav'n-taught sufferings ; 
 Theirs the pure love no laws of sect can bind, 
 Their creed to soothe the sorrows of mankind ; 
 And theirs the precept — more can angels teach 1 — 
 To live for God, and act the truths they preach ; 
 And freely fly, unconscious of dismay. 
 Where Pity prompts, and Courage points the way. 
 
 Yes ! oft at night's dread noon, when gales are loud, 
 And shapes of terror ride the murky cloud ; 
 
HOSPICE OP ST. BERNARD. 13 
 
 When the white snow-waves,* drifting silently, 
 Wreathe o'er the rocks, and roll along the sky ; — 
 'Tis theirs, at Mercy's call, to brave the wrath 
 That guides the avalanche on his thundering path. 
 Waked by the mastiff's bay : — A faint, low shriek 
 Is echoing far below, fi-om cave and peak. 
 By some lone wanderer pour'd, whose latest breath 
 Is all concenter' d in that cry of death ; ■ 
 Thrilling, and fearful, as the rushing snows 
 Sweep on, and shroud him in their dire repose. 
 " On, fearless on ! and trace him through the storm ! 
 Still in his veins the pulse of life beats warm ; 
 The dog's deep wailing howl our steps shall guide, 
 Near and more near it climbs the mountain side." 
 Swift on their iron poles from steep to steep, 
 From crag to crag, impetuous down they sweep ; 
 Like spectres thread the dark ravine — and lo ! 
 The strong dog crouching o'er the tomb of snow 
 Plies with untiring limb his generous toil, 
 Scoops the cold drift, and bares the frozen soil ; 
 
 * Rogers' " Italy.'' 
 
14 HOSPICE OF ST. BERNARD. 
 
 Licks from the pale chill brow the tangled hair, 
 And wakes to Hope the features of Despair ; 
 Till from the cerements of his living tomb 
 They raise the wanderer, while the paly bloom 
 Of coming life plays warmly on his cheek, 
 And those half-op' ning hps do all but speak. 
 
 Deeds such as these, while quickly wears the night. 
 In that rude hall St. Bernard's sons recite — 
 And oft they speak of crags, where peasants show 
 Mysterious crosses on the untrodden snow * 
 Planted by hands unseen, or traces left 
 Of wizard dances in the sunless cleft ; 
 Or whisp'ring tell, when clouds snow-laden sail 
 At solemn midnight on the moaning gale, 
 How on each cavern' d steep, in shadowy forms, 
 The demon-brood of Darkness and of Storms 
 Shout in wild chorus, while on every blast 
 Weird voices sweep, and laughter huiries past : 
 
 * Vide WordsTforth's " Descriptive Sketches.'' 
 
HOSPICE OF ST. BEBNAED. 15 
 
 Oft too in gentler shape, they seem to ride 
 
 In mimic pomp, the mists of eventide ; 
 
 Or move unmark'd within their vapoury shroud. 
 
 The winds their coursers, and their car the cloud ; 
 
 While from their stringless lyres wild music flows. 
 
 Charms the mute air, and dies along the snows.* 
 
 Such the fond faith in every age confest. 
 Nursed by each clime, and rear'd in every breast, 
 The secret yearning, the mysterious sense 
 Of some unseen, o'ershadowing influence. 
 That taught the Greek to people earth and sky 
 With forms of light and dreams of poesy'; 
 Which teaches still the savage and the chdd. 
 Their heart untutor'd, and their fancy wild. 
 To vision spirits of the viewless breeze. 
 Phantoms in clouds, and voices on the seas ; 
 And on th' expanse of Heav'n's eternal dome 
 Fix their fond gaze, and weep that long lost home. 
 
 * For these and other superstitions of the Alpine peasantry, see 
 Coxe's "Tour," and Wordsworth's " Descriptive Sketches." 
 
16 HOSPICE OF ST. BERNARD. 
 
 But when the lamp burns faintly, and the guest 
 Seeks his low cell, and homely couch of rest. 
 Dim with the mists of time before his eyes 
 Majestic forms of other days arise. 
 And to his ear the night-winds waft along 
 Names that have lived in story or in song. 
 
 Once more the foe of Rome from height to height * 
 Cheers his dark host, impatient for the fight. 
 And where yon plains expand in boundless gloom, 
 He bids them seek an Empire or a Tomb. 
 With nodding plumes, bright helms, and glitt'ring spears, 
 Lo Gaul's great Emperor leads his knightly peers ; * 
 Hush'd is their iron tramp, and moonbeams dim 
 Show'r on each ghastly brow and mail-clad limb. 
 He too is there, who, slain on victory's day. 
 Beside their altar sleeps, the young Dessaix ; t 
 
 * Both HaDnibal and Charlemagne, in all probability, took quite 
 a different route. But a tradition still remains of their haying 
 passed by the Great St. Bernard. 
 
 f Dessaix, slain in his thirtieth year at the battle of Marengo, to 
 
HOSPICE OF ST. BERNARD. 17 
 
 And there his Chief, whose name of terror spread 
 Wide o'er the world, and shook mankind with dread, 
 Curbs his proud steed, and waves his warriors on 
 To Piedmont's vales yet "bright with Lodi's 
 
 sun ; " * 
 Unlike the despot lord of after days. 
 Youth on his cheek, and ardour in his gaze ; 
 E'en now his spirit from the fields of fight 
 The shout of triumph hears, the rush of flight. 
 As from Marengo's plain, " th' invading horde "t 
 Flies the keen vengeance of his conqu'ring sword. 
 Changed is his brow, what loftier visions roll. 
 What dreams of empire crowd upon his soul ! 
 Lo ! prostrate nations tremble at his sway, 
 Kings quail before him, thrones in dust decay ; 
 Dominion crowns what Conquest has begun. 
 And Fortune, smihng on her favourite son, 
 
 the success of which he had chiefly contributed, is buried near the 
 altar of the Hospice Church. 
 
 * A phrase of Buonaparte, in addressing Bourienne before passing 
 the Alps to Marengo. — Boukiesitb, vol. ii. 
 
 i* Napoleon's invariable term for the Austrians in Italy. — Bou- 
 EiEHHE, passim. 
 
18 
 
 HOSPICE OF ST. BERNAED. 
 
 Wreathes round his tyrant brow the glitt'ring toy, 
 Her fatal dower, that shines but to destroy. 
 
 If in that hour of pride, and fervid youth. 
 Such were his dreams, mankind has mourn' d their truth ; 
 O'er seas of blood his Sun of Glory rose. 
 And sunk at length 'mid tempest to repose. 
 When on that field, where last the eagle soar'd ; 
 War's mightier master wielded Britain's sword. 
 And the dark soul, a world could scarce subdue. 
 Bent to thy genius— CHIEF of WATERLOO ! 
 
 The visions fade in darkness, calm and deep 
 Sinks o'er the pilgrim's soul the hush of sleep. 
 Farewell ! fareweU ! ere morning's sun shall smile, 
 Desolate mansion ! on thy wind-worn pile, 
 Far to the South his parting steps shall bend. 
 Where lovelier lands, and softer skies extend ; 
 Yet in those climes full oft his heart shall seek 
 Those sable waters, and that frozen peak; 
 
HOSPICE OF ST. BERNABD. 19 
 
 'Mid fairer scenes shall rise on Fancy's view 
 Th' eternal snows, the heaven of cloudless blue ; 
 And as in thought once more he seems to climb 
 O'er many a trackless Alp, and cliff subUme, 
 Kind priests of Charity ! ye oft shall share 
 The heartfelt breathings of his grateful prayer ; 
 While Memory turns to bless, where'er he roam. 
 Love's sainted shrine, and Mercy's lonely home ! 
 
LORD DENMAN. 
 
 At a Meeting of the Home CiRoniT Mess, held at Kingston-on- 
 Thames, on the 2nd of April, 1850, at -which the accompanying 
 verses were recited by the Poet IiAureatb, it was unanimonsly 
 resolved that the verses should be printed, and a copy sent to each 
 member of the circuit ; and also that a manuscript copy, both of 
 the verses and of the resolution, should be forwarded to Lord 
 Denman. 
 
 FoEGiVE your Laureate if he flings away 
 His motley mask, and dares be grave to-day, 
 While to the memory of a great career 
 He yields a homage, feeble — but sincere. 
 
 A noble race is ended ; — from the noise 
 Of Life's arena to the tranquil joys 
 Of wise seclusion, glorious with a crown 
 Of civic worth and dignified renown 
 
LORD DENMAX. 21 
 
 Denman retires ; and leaves a lofty name 
 
 To the sure keeping of historic fame. 
 
 Long shall the name of Denmax live enshrined 
 
 In the fond reverence of the English mind ; 
 
 Rich as he was in every manly grace 
 
 That stamps the sons of England's hero race ; 
 
 True Saxon worth cast in the stately mould 
 
 Of the old Roman ; stern and hon-soul'd ; 
 
 Yet touch'd by kindlier impulses that move 
 
 The hearts, that else had but admired, to love. 
 
 England remembers how in manhood's flower, 
 The bold assailant of all lawless power, 
 His voice was lifted loudest in the van 
 Of those who fought against the trade in man : 
 England has not forgotten how the rush 
 Of his fierce eloquence roll'd forth to crush 
 The courtly crew who, to appease the spleen 
 Of a King's spite, would immolate a Queen : 
 Nor how, with front erect, he trod the path 
 Of Justice, heedless of a Senate's wrath ; 
 
22 LOED DENMAN. 
 
 And, firm for rights our Fathers handed down, 
 Withstood the House, as he had braved the Crown." 
 
 Throned on the seat of judgment, he combined 
 The purest purpose with the widest mind : 
 His aim was always Justice ; his delight 
 To render Law commensurate with Eight, 
 And from the breadth of that august domain 
 Weed the rank growth of quibbling and chicane : 
 No zealot votary of the cumbrous lore 
 That " darken'd counsel " in the days of yore ; 
 Not blindly worshipping as things divine 
 The dust and cobwebs of the legal shrine ; 
 But bent to make, — so taught in Wisdom's school, - 
 Our laws progressive, like the realm they nile. 
 
 His proud demeanour and majestic grace 
 Suited the height of his illustrious place : 
 Blended extremes in him we could admire, 
 Murray's fine ease, and Chatham's generous fire ; 
 
LORB DENMAN. 23 
 
 Calmly sedate and equably polite 
 He felt no preference, and he show'd no slight ; 
 Not prone to talk, but diligent to hear ; 
 Prompt, and yet patient ; firm, but not austere ; 
 Not quick to wrath, but when fit cause arose 
 To stir his lion-nature from repose, — 
 Some deed of baseness, cruelty, or shame — 
 Swift shot the electric impiilse thro' his frame ; 
 The grave brow lower' d ; the eye so calm and cold 
 Flash'd sudden fire ; and forth in thunder roll'd 
 The voice whose accents clothed with solemn awe 
 The indignant doom of violated law. 
 
 Denman farewell ! forgive the attempt to twine 
 A wreath so worthless for a brow like thine : 
 But while all others hasten to salute 
 Thy name with honoiu-, how can we be mute ? 
 We who have known thee long, and watch' d thee near 
 Dispensing Justice in our narrower sphere ; 
 Who feel thy loss not more to be deplored 
 On the grave bench than at the genial board, — 
 
 2 
 
24 LOED DENMAN. 
 
 That festive scene where thou didst love to sit, 
 Promoting manly mirth and honest wit, 
 Where not a guest, howe'er "unknown to fame," 
 But heard thy deep voice pledge him by his name, 
 While proudly through our hearts the feeling ran — 
 " All must revere the Judge, we love the Many 
 
 Once more farewell ! may every blessing wait 
 On thy retirement, to a distant date ! 
 May all the pleasures of a taste refined. 
 And all the afSuence of a well-stored mind. 
 And all the affections of a loving breast. 
 Solace thy age, and sanctify thy rest. 
 
SIR ROBEET PEEL. 
 
 AXKivov, i£t\ivov ehri, to 5' e5 viKdrw. 
 
 Dead : housed with dust and darkness ! — he who sate 
 But yesterday in more than monarch's state, 
 Throned in the heart of England with a crown 
 Of self-earn' d kingship — suddenly struck down 
 From the mid heaven of greatness — ^how it all 
 Seems like a dream — that glory and that fall ! 
 
 With dim despondence and a bodeful gloom 
 England sits sad by that imtimely tomb ; 
 Her chief of statesmen gone, his work remains 
 For hands less skUful and for feebler brains : — 
 The keen, swift insight, — the capacious soul 
 That analysed all parts, yet grasp'd the whole, — 
 
26 SIR EGBERT PEEL. 
 
 The fix'd laboriousness that calmly wi'ought 
 
 Truth from the mines of scientific thought, — 
 
 The master skill which, when that truth was won, 
 
 Made other minds the mirror of his own, 
 
 And bound with spells of intellectual might 
 
 The sons of darkness in their own despite, — 
 
 The manly march of vigorous eloquence. 
 
 The sober style of poised and weighty sense 
 
 Clear to convince and potent to persuade. 
 
 Wrought with high art, yet free from art's parade, - 
 
 The dexterous logic, the high-toned appeal. 
 
 The skUl to move men's mirth, or rouse their zeal,- 
 
 All the rare powers which, when combined, create 
 
 Their envied lord the despot of debate, — 
 
 All these were his — but not alone for these 
 
 A nation's homage crowns his obsequies ; 
 
 What England mourns is something nobler far 
 
 Than mightiest mastery in the mimic war. 
 
 Wisdom achieved by virtue — wisdom eam'd 
 
 By trampling on the idols he had learn' d 
 
 To venerate amiss — the inbred love 
 
 Of Truth and Country lifting him above 
 
SIR ROBERT PEEL. 27 
 
 The fond traditions, and the servile rules 
 That nursed his youth amid those famous schools 
 Where mists of prejudice with noxious damp 
 Dim the pale beam of learning's classic lamp. — 
 Long was the struggle — long the cloister's chUl 
 Deaden'd his spirit and subdued his will ; 
 But Truth upheld her votary ; and the light 
 Clearer and clearer stream'd upon his sight, 
 As with strong effort struggling to unwind 
 The snaky coils of Error from his mind, 
 He smote the foul enchantress — ^till at length 
 Fell the last fold that manacled his strength, 
 And left his unthraU'd manhood free to dare 
 Deeds which all else had shrunk fi'om in despair. 
 
 Twice upon England's annals hath he set 
 A mark no after ages shall forget. 
 Once when he swept away the bigot laws 
 That outraged Freedom in Religion's cause, 
 That from men's rituals made their rights proceed. 
 And risk'd a Eealm to persecute a Creed : 
 
28 SIR ROBERT PEEL. 
 
 And onoe when bending to the mighty cry 
 
 By hungering myriads lifted to the sky, 
 
 He spoke the word and gave the -great decree, 
 
 " Let Bread be tax'd no more- — and Trade be free ! " 
 
 Glory to him who resolutely great 
 
 Twice wreok'd his Party and twice saved the State ; 
 
 Whose well-timed daring kept Victoria's crown 
 
 Firm in the storm when Europe's thrones went 
 
 down. 
 What though for this high stake he flung away 
 The prize of power, and all the pomp of sway — 
 A people's blessing well might compensate 
 The rhetorician's sneer, the zealot's hate. 
 And England's homage nobly made amends 
 For faithless followers and for failing friends. 
 
 Yes ! by those hearths that he has help'd to cheer. 
 His memory shall abide for many a year ; 
 And the swart sons of toU as they recruit 
 Their task-worn strength with Earth's abundant 
 fruit 
 
SIR ROBERT PEEL. 29 
 
 No longer leaven'd by the sense of wrong, 
 Shall breathe his name with blessings loud and 
 long.* 
 
 That name is moum'd upon the crowded mart, 
 And moui'n'd no less thro' all the realms of Art — 
 Genius and Industry their voices blend 
 In mutual dirges for their noblest friend. 
 And there are deeper mourners for the Dead — 
 But o'er their grief be sacred silence spread ; 
 One voice, now dumb with woe, alone could teU 
 How good, how pure the heart she loved so well. 
 
 Mother of mighty sons, my Country — thou 
 That sit'st in sorrow — clear thy clouded brow. 
 
 * " It may be that I shall leave a name sometimes remembered 
 "with good -will in the abode of those whose lot it is to labour and to 
 earn their daily bread by the sweat of their brow, when they shall 
 reoruit their exhausted strength with abundant and untaxed food, 
 the sweeter because it is no longer leavened with a sense of 
 injustice." 
 
30 SIR EGBERT PEEL. 
 
 A good great man nor lives nor dies in vain ; 
 A beacon star o'er Life's tumultuous main 
 Shines from his gi-ave of glory : many tread ' 
 In pathways hallow'd by the mighty dead. 
 Statesmen unborn from him shall learn the way 
 That leads thro' manful worth to solid sway, 
 And strive to scale Ambition's steepy hill 
 By virtuous wisdom, not by tortuous skiU. 
 Can he who gazes on that honour'd grave 
 Stoop to be Faction's tool or Party's slave 1 — 
 Or who can trace the lines to glory dear. 
 By generous France inscribed upon that bier — 
 Or catch the echoes, as the mournful tale 
 Wide o'er the nations wakes the voice of wail, — ■ 
 Nor burn to kindle such a loving zeal 
 As thrills through Europe for the fame of Peel ! 
 
 July, 1850. 
 
HAVELOCK. 
 
 He sleeps the sleep of heroes ; and for him 
 Stern hearts are sad, and manly eyes are dim : 
 What though the tardy title that they gave 
 To grace the warrior, found him in his grave ; 
 The loss is ours — not his ; our Havelock needs 
 No vulgar blazon for his deathless deeds. 
 
 No plaudits loud, no faint-praise trimly tum'd 
 Could make or mar the glory he had eam'd : 
 The love of England is a nobler prize 
 Than Senates can decree or Kings devise ; 
 And England's grief a statelier monument 
 Than wealth can buUd, or heraldry invent. 
 
 Yes, England loved this warrior, for she felt 
 That in his soul true English virtue dwelt. 
 
32 HAVELOOK. 
 
 Steadfast, yet ardent, prompt but wary, brave 
 To height of daring, yet not daring's slave ; 
 Pious as valiant, hopeful 'mid despair ; 
 Calm under iire, but passionate in prayer : 
 Alike in peace and war, one path he trod. 
 His law was Duty, and his guide was God. 
 
 Through arduous struggles and with toil severe. 
 His friendless virtue plough'd its slow career. 
 He could not match in purse the carpet lords 
 Of purchased epaulettes, and bauble swords ; 
 Merit, not wealth, when manhood's prime was past, 
 Kaised the bom leader to command at last : 
 And with command came glory. Why recall 
 What hves and burns within the hearts of all 1 
 We all remember how he rose — a star — 
 On the thick midnight of that dreadful war, 
 EoU'd back the tide of ruin, and restored 
 The poise of Empire with his single sword. 
 
 We all remember how through India's plains, 
 Scorch' d by fierce suns, or drench' d by tropic rains. 
 
HAVBLOCK. 33 
 
 O'er steamy swamps by torrid skies o'er-arch'd, 
 Dauntless and swift, the heroic handful march' d. 
 No need to count their triiunphs, none to tell 
 Of cursed Cawnpore, and its hideous well ; 
 Of Lucknow's fate, that trembled on a thread, 
 Of the fierce carnage, and the glorious dead ; 
 When the close battery's tempest surged and sung. 
 And through a lane of fire the avengers sprung. 
 Spent, but victorious — and the glorious shout 
 For Lucknow's rescue scared the miscreant rout — 
 
 Yes, they were saved, but at what deadly cost ! 
 The ransom'd live ; but what a ransom 's lost ! 
 His brain outwearied and his heart o'erfraught. 
 The avenger sinks beside the work he wrought. 
 He lived to save ; and, having saved, bow'd down 
 Beneath the burden of his great renown; 
 Leaving to us the treasure of his fame, 
 A noble memory and a stainless name. 
 
 Daily News, Jan. 12, 1858. 
 
EPITHALAMIUM. 
 
 (On the Maeeiase of the Princess Royai.) 
 
 All hearts and hopes are with thee at this hour, 
 Thou fair young bride ! of Enghsh brides the flower ; 
 Thou of the frank high-heart, and Saxon mien, 
 The first-bom daughter of our best-loved Queen. 
 All in thy joy are joyful, for we know 
 This royal pomp is no mere gilded show, 
 No cold state-pageant, but a rite that binds 
 With holy ties "a marriage of true minds." 
 The willing work of thy white hand creates 
 A bond of union for two mighty States : 
 But more than this — its genial clasp imparts 
 A glow of rapture to two loving hearts. 
 
 Swift speed the years; but yesterday the voice 
 Of those hoarse heralds bade the realm rejoice 
 At thy auspicious dawning into life. 
 And now their thunders welcome thee — a wife. 
 
EPITHALAMIUM. 35 
 
 Brief was thy virgin youth — but not too short 
 To learn those lessons rarely conn'd at Court — 
 The piety, whose roots are hearts, not creeds, 
 Whose fruits are gentle lives and noble deeds ; 
 The wisdom never taught by text or tome ; 
 The living sermon of a virtuous home. 
 
 Thy mother is thy model ; be like her : 
 No choicer boon thy Queenship can confer 
 On thy lord's future lieges : the firm mind. 
 The truthful nature, simple yet refined, 
 The high clear courage, and the noble zeal 
 For England's glory and the Empire's weal. 
 The pure affections, and the spotless life 
 Of the fond mother and the loving wife ; — 
 Graces like these have made Victoria great, 
 And kept her safe 'mid all the storms of state. 
 Founding her throne on that unshaken base — 
 The loving homage of a free-born race. 
 
 Thoji, too, young Prince ! by holiest bonds allied 
 To the proud realm that rear'd thy island bride, 
 
36 
 
 BPITHALAMIUM. 
 
 Learn here the lore contented millions teach — 
 
 Free trade, free thought, free ■worshij), and free speech. 
 
 Deep in thy heart the generous seed be sown. 
 
 And let it bear rich fruitage round thy throne ; 
 
 Eule as they rule in England — ^let no trace 
 
 Of feudal folly vex that loyal race 
 
 Which, ripe for freedom, struggles to be free, 
 
 And, tired of pedants, hopes plain sense from thee. 
 
 Farewell ! be great and happy — may the years 
 Be liberal of smiles and scant in tears. 
 May children bless your life, and build your line : 
 With homefelt bliss a people's love combine ; 
 So may ye reign — ^no words can wish you more — 
 As Albert and Victoria reign' d before. 
 
 Daiit News, Jan. 25, 1858.