Cornell University Library PR 5737.W53S5 The siege of Hennebon, and other poems. 3 1924 013 567 627 a Cornell University y Library The original of tliis bool< is in tine Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924013567627 THE SIEGE OF HENNEBON OTHER POEMS Nf WATERHOUSE LONDON LONGMANS, GREEN, READER & DYER LIVERPOOL, ADAM HOLDEN MDCCCLXXI l-i^^''' CONTENTS. The Siege of Hennebon - i Bertrand du Guesclin - 42 The Knight-Ekrant - - 60 Hymn of the First Crusaders - 63 cceue-de-llon in prison - 69 The Seneschal de Joinville's Tale 76 Pascual Vivas - - 84 The Galley Slave's Prayer ioi The Good Queen Bess - - 106 Lucius Carey, Viscount Falkland 121 The Puritan Soldier - - 126 Canterbury 129 PeSHAWUR, 1857 - - 134 The Earl of Derby 141 Head Work and Hand Work - 145 Foundations 150 Our Chain of Colonies 157 The Workman's Bell - 164 Mutation ■- 167 PAGE A Life- on the Sea^, i73 Emile de Lagny 176 The Dollar's Lament 184 The Rose Bush 186 The Wood-Sorrel 190 The Fox-Glove 193 The Oak-Fern 197 The Ivy 200 The Night-Row on Grasmere 20s The Fairy's Pool 209 The Swiss Mountains compared with Skiddaw 213 Eaye.ux Tapestry 218 Father Rhine 230 The Alp 234 The Mountain Inn 236 A Nile Dream 243 The Desert 249 Sabbath Bells 253 THE SIEGE OF HENNEBON. A lay, supposed to be sung in the halls and ladies' bowers of the . Breton nobles of the de Montfort party, during the later wars waged in France by Edward III. It was not in the battle-field, 'T was not in open fight That traitors seized our much-loved duke, And led him from our sight. They rose, in whom he trusted long. Whom least he thought to fear; And like a felon bound him fast When no true friend was near. A 2 THE SIEGE OF HENNEBON. Through all the land of Brittany Was terror and dismay ; Our noble chief no more could rise To keep our foes away. No certain peace can bless the state Without a head to lead, With none to watch the foreign foe, And help in time of need. Johan de Montfort ne'er did mount The battle-steed again ; But still the name de Montfort sounds The call to fighting men. For one there was who fought for him Ne'er raised that cry in vain ; In hall and by camp-fire we sing The deeds of Lady Jane. No danger e'er could stay thy path, Oh, woman, calm and brave ! No bulwark which thou didst not scoff That treasured life to save. THE SIEGE OF HENNEBON. We cannot number all the deeds Thou dared thyself to do, The foes thou hast discomfited, For him thy soul held true. They brought an envious swarm to scourge Our brave old Breton race; A robber host, on plunder bent, Our homesteads to deface. They armed a hireling multitude With cross-bow and with lance, And they bought the base companions In every hold in France. It seemed to them an easy task A lady's lands to spoil ; Like wolves, who crunch a gentle sheep When spent and worn with toil. No sheep did Jane de Montfort prove. To stay and suffer wrong. That lion-hearted dame, who dared To struggle with the strong. 4 THE SIEGE OF HENNEBON. Now Charles de Blois has brought his camp To the last walled town, And those who love the captive duke Have fled to Hennebon. They built, to keep us in our bounds, A well-defended line, The castle then they tried to scale, The wall they tried to mine. The times were hard for those within. The armed men were few ; The watch and ward were toilsome tasks To those whose hearts were true. And there were cravens, who wavered And viewed their cause with fear; And there were traitors, who would sell The troth which men held dear. THE SIEGE OP HENNEBON. The Council. Can you gauge the breadth and length Of a woman's plighted love ? Can you tell its fervid strength. Fearing nought below, above ^ Woman's sorrows give her power. Nerve her soul when dangers lower. If the cry to her is made By some loved one, stricken low, Like an angel sent to aid. She is there to ward the blow. Though her heart with anguish rings, Joy upon her face she brings. Love at tim£s may make her share Tasks which man alone should do; Love will grant her strength to bear Dangers which she shrinks -to view. Feeble woman, moved by love. Amid trial strong will prove. b THE SIEGE OF HENNEBON. When, to seek some dear one's weal. She has mingled in the fight; Ah, how much her soul must feel, Man must pay her homage bright. Heart-felt purity and grace Shield her path in every place. Now the council have assembled. O'er their prospects to debate, What could be the chance for safety In this time of adverse fate. With one voice the burghers murmured That their trade was well nigh dead; All their wealth the soldiers wasted, And their hopes were black with dread. Loudly swore the hireling lanz knechts They would leave us for the Rhine; 'T was gain they sought ; their hearts around. Ne'er a Breton love did twine. THE SIEGE OF HENNBBON. Could they hold that town for ever Without help or foreign aid ? With their weak and scanty forces, Could the power of France be stayed ? Then, amid that timid gathering, Up de Leon's bishop rose, With his fair words only seeking His own gain from others' woes. Thus do Churchmen fly from danger, Whilst they flock to every feast ; And the wavering band, faint-hearted, Listened to the wily priest. "Lords and neighbours, would you ponder On the few words I shall say; They are all that I can offer. This dark cloud to drive away. Look around on all the champaign. Is it not a piteous sight ? Hear the ruined peasants, wailing O'er their crops destroyed in fight. 8 THE SIEGE OF.HENNEBON. " None can tell who next may suffer, None dare trust his brother's hand; Each man buckles on his armour, Ne'er lays down his helm and brand. Each one shuns the public highway, Lest he meet some hostile band ; Woe-worn burghers guard their gateways ; And with grief mourns all the land. " Have a thought to save our country, And this hopeless strife to close; France is wise, will grant us favour. All her lords are not our foes. In her camp are Breton nobles, Who will gladly us befriend. And will bring this deadly contest To a just and peaceful end."* All at once, before that rabble. Whence she came they scarce could tell. Rose a lady's form and features. Worn with toil and anguish fell. THE SIEGE O-F HENNEBON. By her raven hair, now speckled With the coming winter's snow, By her ghttering eye defiant, All the Lady Jane did know. Neither page nor knight was with her, Minstrel gay nor damsel mild. But with tottering steps beside her, Ran a laughing bright-eyed child. To the centre of that chamber She her little son has led, Then, with glance no man could parry, In firm accents thus she said : " Noble knights, I fain would thank you, I would greet each gallant crest. He who counselled you to parley Must have; spoken but in jest. None would trifle with their glory. The old fame their names .enhance ; None would give their ancient freedom To become the slaves of France. lO THE SIEGE OF HENNEBON. "Long de Montfort will not languish In the noisome donjon bound, Help will come, his foes will vanish. At your head he '11 soon be found. Forth for aid De Clisson sallied, Cross the Channel he will bring Many a knight and many an archer ; So has sworn proud England's king. "Burghers, would ye know your interests, Are they not with England strong? She has ships, and she has seamen. And to her the seas belong. Would ye wish your wealth to iflourish, Know the treaty that we made, Fast to bind our lands together. And to help your surest trade." With a smile, that noble mother O'er her tender youngling bent, — Little thought the child that o'er him Such a load of love was spent. THE SIEGE OF HENNEBON. He, with laughing eye and gesture, Crowed aloud with infant glee ; Then, with softened look and language, Spoke again that brave ladie : " Though I cannot bring among you One to lead you in the fight. See, his father's son I show you. Who shall prove a gallant knight. Where you see the conflict thickest, There de Montfort you shall see. Though your lord lies bound in prison. With his banner I will be. "Is there one among you fearful, I will shame him from his fears. Show him how a feeble woman In the fray can calm her tears. Would you then the town surrender To our foes, when first they call ! With my maidens armed around me, I will hold the castle wall." 12 THE SIEGE OF HENNEBON. She has ended, and the chamber Rings again with loud applause, Waverers there are no longer. All will back de Montfort's cause. First among those sons of battle Hubert, with the iron mace, Strong and stalwarth, fierce and stubborn, Whom in fight no foe dare face. " Oft-times, when a squire in Flanders, In your father's hall I stood, I have had a smile and greeting From a girl of gentle blood. Time has fled, and now that lady Claims the service of my sword. As a knight I own the duty. And will fight to aid her lord." Then Sir Eustace from the gathering Gaily rose, with look of glee. With a manly face and bearing, Pride of Breton chivalry. THE SIEGE OF HENNEBON. 13 Light and mirthful at the banquet, First in jest and first in song, Like a Captain calm and valiant 'Mid the deadly battle throng. " True it is, the odds are heavy, Hard the task to hold the town. But the strife with 'whelming numbers Gives the gallant few renown. We, as knights, have sworn to succour Woman in her hour of need. Can we then give harsh refusal. When we hear our lady plead?" The Lady's Bower. Firm in purpose, firm in will. All at her command must bend ; Fainting hearts her glance will still. Doubting souls their aid will lend. 14 THE SIEGE OF HENNEBON. ' Tis the master-mind which rules, Triumphs over timid Ir easts ; And with weakly-fashioned tools Strongly works its high behests. Should they through the out-works break. Lay in dust the castle wall. She a rampart strong would make Out of twigs and osiers small. Now unto her bower she hurries, Finds her, maidens at their play, Thoughtless of their lady's sorrow — Hoping for a happier morrow, And that gloom might pass away. All their tasks lay by forgotten, Lute in hand, and gaily clad, Trains of silk, and gorgeous dresses. Chains of gold and braided tresses, Such the joys which made them glad. THE SIEGE OF HENNEBON. 15 Quickly glancing round the chamber, Sternly spake the Lady Jane : "Maidens, would you rest in pleasure. Waste your hours in idle leisure. When our foes press on amain? " Must we let the knights defend us, Whilst we live for sport and jest? By our labours we may cheer them. Show at least that we are near them, When with toil they are oppressed. "Doff those trains, and doff that head-gear, Cut your kirtles to the knee ; Go with help to tend the wounded. Carry aid where conflict sounded, Show from danger you don't flee.'' All at once the maids were silent, Dreading much that glittering eye ; None to give her answer thinking. All from her hard summons shrinking. And the task she bade them try. 1 6 THE SIEGE OF HENNEBON. Till, at last, one fair-haired damsel Dared her inmost thoughts betray, To her mistress stem confessing What upon her soul was pressing, Alice loved and Alice gay. She it was with whom the lady Often spoke of times gone by. Of those Flemish towns and places, Of those friends beloved, whose faces Now no more to her were nigh. " Madam, would you see your ladies Toiling thus for armed men. Other garb than woman's wearing, Demoiselles with soldiers' bearing, Amid scenes not fit for them? " Eustace, when he vowed he loved me. Pledged his troth to back your cause; Now the time for him to prove it, Leave the fight to men who love it, And who 're bound by honour's laws. THE SIEGE OF HENNEBON. 17 Then, her favourite's heart to strengthen, Calmly thus the lady said, " Love its fairest, purest flowers Bears amid our saddest hours. E'en when hope herself has fled. " Dost thou find a friend in anguish, Who is ever dear to thee, Then with him be most united, Share in all his sorrows blighted. Till a happier day you see. " Eustace ^hen will know thy goodness. Feel thee worthy of his choice, For thy smile his toil will lighten. And his care-worn brow will brighten, When he hears thy gentle voice.'' Alice has doffed her gay attire. She has donned the hodden grey. Only for the wounded caring. Her own labour never sparing. To the" walls she wends her way. B THE SIEGE OF HENNEBON. The Sally. Clouds and darkness gather round. Nought hut gloom can frail man see; Not one source of help is found. All is lost, she can but flee. Where a mother's love does glow. Shameful flight she cannot know. Look at yonder vaulted sky. How the pole-star firm remains; Meteors brighter blaze and die. But unmoved it never wanes. And a mother's love by far Truer shines than twinkling star. Ay, that helpless infant boy. Snugly laid within his nest. Gives than countless hoards more joy To his watchful mother's breast. In her soul is no alarm. She will keep him safe from harm. THE SIEGE OF HENNEBON. 19 Four long weeks the siege has lasted, Feats of arms are each day done ; Fights are fought by mailed warriors, Lances broke and honour won. At the barrier waves the blazon Of de Montfort's banner true; With it always goes the lady, Praise to give where praise is due. Down upon the town the engines Throw their heavy balls like "hail ; And the fell cross-bowmen near them Make e'en belted knights to quail. Every day the foe increases, And the breach will soon be made; Now at last the brave are weary. And distressed for want of aid. Jane de Montfort seeks the tower Overlooking all the west; And with straining eye she glances O'er the stormy ocean's crest. 20 THE SIEGE OF HENNEBON. Not a ship is seen to windward, Through those sheets of blinding spray ; None from England comes to succour, None to help her in the fray. On the tower she stood undaunted. Gazing on that unkind sea, Without any sign or gesture Of her inward misery; 'Mid the lines of tents below her. Something Wakens sudden joy. They have left few men to guard them. And far off their troops employ. " Rouse the knights, prepare to sally, . Each man in his best array ; In yon camp we '11 take our pleasure. Through their lines we '11 cut our way." Lady Jane has donned the corslet. And the helmet's crested plume. And the blazon of her husband She right bravely did assume. THE SIEGE OF HENNEBON. 21 By a distant path, unheeded, They have gained the hostile ground, And they rush upon the French camp, Scattering all the force they found. As a bull, with force tremendous, Charges on a mongrel pack, Hubert, driving all before him. Through the flying makes a track. "Fire the camp, destroy the engines. Overthrow each warlike store, Light a beacon for our pathway, By its blaze we '11 fight once more.'' Thus our Bretons spoke and acted. And the flames rose fast and high. To the French they were a signal Back unto their camp to fly. Then there came a wood of lances. Bands of hireling Genoese, Spanish horse and German footmen, Knights and squires of all degrees. 22 THE SIEGE OF HENNEBON. Cutting off our Breton army From all regress to the town, Shutting out its brave defenders From retreat to Hennebon. O'er that doomed band they gather, Like an angry thunder-cloud, Yet the Lady never faltered, As approached that hostile crowd. In the town there rests her infant, Whom she ne'er may see again, But she rides on calm and tranquil. Nor gives sign of any pain. With an eager glance. Sir Eustace Sees their path by foemen crossed; " Quick ! " he cries, " no time for parley,. Spur in haste, or all is lost. We must seek some other shelter, Yonder lies the town of Brest ; In its friendly walls we 're welcome. And can give our forces rest." THE SIEGE OF HENNEBON. 23 T was a sad and hasty gallop, O'er that tract of Breton moor ; On their rear the French came spurring, And their ranks grew few and fewer. Ruin seized on him who foundered, Or upon that ride did fallj Small chance he ever rose again, Or attained the sheltering wall. None did try to stop and rally, None to drive the foemen back ; None could stay their friends to succour. Or to help them on their track. None did seek to fight for honour, Or to tilt with couchfed spear; They thought only of their lady. And the danger which pressed near. Lady Jane is with the foremost, Mounted on a chesnut steed ; Foam-flecked,' panting, eye-distended. He too knew his rider's need. 24 • THE SIEGE OF HENNEBON. You may trust the noble war-horse, He will ne'er that trust betray; Spent with loss of blood, and dying, He will bear you from the fray. Hubert, near his noble mistress. Rides along in armfed might ; Eustace, to his vow most constant, Ever guards her from the fight. Now the lady, spent and weary, Has approached the place of rest ; Wide the friendly gates stand open. And she enters into Brest. the siege of hennebon. 25 The Return. The mother guards over her nest. Far from it she dares not to flee. Fresh courage still buoys up her breast. She longeth her fledglings to see. The sound of confusion may roll. Where those loved ones in danger await. But one thought possesses her soul. To rush to and share in their fate. That home shineth bright to her eyes. Though ruin has thrown down its wall, If when to its rescue she flies. Her children all answer her call. Amazement filled the men of France, When all the truth they knew, A woman, their well armfed Hues By force had broken through. 2 6 THE SIEGE OF HENNEBON. Whilst those within the town were filled With doubt and anxious fear. They could not tell who might be lost, Upon that foray drear. None of that gallant band returned. The leaders might be slain, De Montfort's wife might share his bonds, And all their toil be vain. Thus spoke the traitors; whilst they sought For shameful peace to sue. Without her will and lion-heart None dared the fight renew. To the small band -who reached the town, Scant time for rest she gave. Her heart remained in Hennebon, Its inmates she must save. To every friendly fort and hold, A call for help she made. And gathered round her faithful men, De Montfort's cause to aid. THE SIEGE OF HENNEBON. 27 At dead of night the summons rings, "All knights and squires to horse, To carry help to Hennebon, And gain its walls by force." With swift and stealthy steps they go, A small but trusty band, Through every danger pledged to pass, Which may their course withstand. A misty veil rests o'er their path, When at the break of day They reach the hostile lines, and find No guard to bar their way. They raise the cry de Montfort loud Among the slumbering foe, And through the camp to Hennebon In hasty triumph go. For some short time this gallant band Gave to the town relief, But stronger grew the host of France, The succour was but brief. 28 THE SIEGE OF HENNEBON. The hireling crew already count The spoil, as due to each; The engines thunder on the walls, And wide has grown the breach. The traitor Bishop seeks by stealth To end our endless woes, And give our town to those who strive Our glorious name to close. And some are in the garrison Who aid him in the plot. And the faithful grow disheartened. For help there cometh not. A wounded man Sir Hubert lies, His strength cannot avail ; Sir Eustace fights on gallantly. But some time he will fail. No tidings from de CUsson come, No tidings from the sea, England has quite forgot her pledge, And lost is Brittany. THE SIEGE OF HENNEBON. 29 Yet one there was who ne'er despaired, Ne'er in that conflict quailed ; Though treason spoke with trumpet-voice, Though bolts around her hailed, Though wounds and death fell havoc made Among the trusty few, One only thought to her remained, She still must dare and do. The Watch Tower. None can teil the watcher's sorrow. Looking fruitless round for aid ; Fearing, dreading, lest the morrow. Break the stay which hope has made. Now the hours, of watching lengthen. Darker grows the constant gloom; Phantoms of the future strengthen. Fraught with shapes of fearful doom. 30 THE SIEGE OF HENNEBON. Hoarsely roar the angry surges. Darkness der the sky is cast; And the thought each moment urges That the watcher's hope is past. Listlessly the watcher dreameth. Gazing o'er the ocean waste; Human help no more there seemeth. Ruin hurries on in haste. Watcher, do not yet be weary. Still for heavenly succour wait; It can break the darkness dreary. Rout the foes before thy gate. None can tell the watcher's gladness As the gloom ts rolled away ; When the instant thought of sadness Flies before the brightening day. THE SIEGE OF HENNEEON. 31 Unto the seaward battlement The lady goes again; Along the ocean's verge she seeks For friendly sail in vain. There stood a Breton mariner. Watching the western main ; But hope of succour or relief, None from his look could gain. " The storm," said he, " has long since passed, Hushed is the Biscay gale; Yet on yon smooth and summer sea There 's not an English sail. If England meant to aid, her fleet By this time would be here; But she is false, she gives us words. Her ships will ne'er appear." The lady stood as one entranced, Her thoughts she did not tell ; They might be of those early days. Of friends she loved right well ; 32 THE SIEGE OF HENNEBON. They might be of her father's halls, Where once she dwelt, the pride, And of that Flemish land, where she Had sported by his side. They might be of that festal time, 'Mid all that 's fair and gay ; 'Mid knights and damsels grouped around, All decked in bright array. One worthy of her hand did vow To cherish her for Hfe; De Montfort, heir of Brittany, Did claim her for his wife. They might be of those happy days. Rich in her husband's love; She heard the courtier's oaths, and thought That all would steadfast prove. That honest vows the burghers swore To hold their city gate ; That constant all the knights would prove In time of adverse fate. THE SIEGE OF HENNEBON. 33 Now nought remains of those bright scenes, All gone, like dreams, and fled ; Like spring flowers 'neath the summer sun. All those young hopes are dead. The noble bridegroom whom she loved A captive and in chains ; Whilst through the Jand of Brittany A base usurper reigns. She could not see the wasted town, And hope its walls to hold ; Or how those few brave friends were spent. Whose faith did not run cold. Her last ally was false ; the thought Perchance now o'er her came. That nought was left to do but die. And end de Montfort's name. But stay, one prize to her is left. Her noble baby boy; One thought of him did nerve her heart, And give her hope and joy. c 34 THE SIEGE OF HENNEBON. That dauntless mother still would face All foes on field and flood; Erect, with courage in her eye, And lion-heart, she stood. " Oh ! friendly mariner, look out. And strain thine eyes again; Is there no English ship in sight Upon the western main ? Oh, haste ! look out, the need is great ! Oh ! give me tidings true ! Does not some distant sign of aid Appear to cheer our view?" "There is something .... methinks there springs. Up fronj the furthest sea, A ship with flags and swelling sails ; From England, it must be. Not one alone, from yonder haze There comes a gallant fleet; Hark to the music which their oars Upon the waters beat." THE SIEGE OF HENNEBON. 35 "Let every bell," the lady cries, " Ring forth a gladsome peal. Send to each knight and man-at-arms, That they new strength may feel ; Let care be gone, let all rejoice. Be this a festive day, Come, maidens, greet the English bands, Decked in your best array." The Rescue. There is joy in work completed. There is Joy in labour done. There is joy der foes defeated. There is joy in victory won. There is joy when bars are broken. When the captive standeth free. There is joy can nier be spoken. In the shout of liberty. 36 THE SIEGE OF HENNEBON. There is joy when strife is ended. When the cries of battle cease. When tfie harassed are befriended, And the weary rest in peace. There is Joy for those who aided To assist the struggling band, There is joy for those invaded. Who have freed their native land. There is joy for her who knoweth. That her hours of doubt are past. And with joy her heart d'erfloweth. For her boy is safe at last. THE SIPGE OF HENNEBON. 37 The ships within the port are moored, The troops have come to land, And Hennebon in safety rests; Thanks to that Enghsh band. They were a goodly company. Of knights and squires in maU, Of Norman lords and valiant peers, Whose names will never fail. And with them came an archer train, Bred in the woodland green; Where will you match that yeoman race, fighl and battle keen? None e'er could stand the cloth-yard shafts Aimed by those marksmen true; The hireling varlets fled in crowds When once their craft they knew. 38 THE SIEGE OF HENNEBON. The lady came in splendid state, With courtesy discreet, With many a smile and winsome word Each gallant guest to greet. A banquet in the hall was spread, And first she led them there ; Full well she knew that English knights Loved feasting and good .cheer. With mirth the rafters rung aloud. They quaffed the ruddy wine ; They told of gallant feats of arms, By land and on the brine. They drank the health, they spoke in praise,. Of old friends and of new ; And they heard tidings of the foe, Who soon that day would rue. But all the time a shower of bolts Came raining on the town. For traitorous messages were sent By some in Hennebon. THE SIEGE OF HENNEBON. The Lady Jane looks round the hall With joy she cannot hide; And the English captain, Manny, Is seated by her side. " Methinks yon boys presume too much To play at ball," quoth he ; "To give this lady rest awhile Would be but courtesy. Come up, my merry men, and show The game that we can play ; Mount horse, and archers take your bows, I first will lead the way." In fuU career the English knights Now charge upon the foe. And there are lances broke, and fame Is won at every blow. The arrows, like a storm of hail, The hostile ranks lay low, The engines by a blazing brand In flames are all a-glow. 39 40 THE SIEGE OF HENNEBON. Yet Still the foe maintain the fight, With many a gallant feat, Nor are their efforts faint and few, Our brave aUies to beat. Now they have drawn their forces back, Our charge they will not meet ; Hurrah! we 've gained the victory, The French are in retreat. A goodly sight it was to see Our troops, as they returned ; The joyful shouts of triumph rung, Which they so well .had earned. The lady kissed the brave Maimy, Whose arm the fight had won. And the band of English captains She kissfed every one. And thus, 'mid sorrow and 'mid woe, She strove her lord to aid, Encouraged with her lion-heart All those who were afraid. THE SIEGE OF HENNEBON. 41 She kept unharmed her noble boy. Who o'er our land bears rule, Controlled those bands of armibd men, With strength and courage cool. Long years have passed since first our duke Was captive led away; He came not back, he must have died Within some donjon gray.* Yet never shall de Montfort die, The name shall still remain, And Breton bards for aye will sing The deeds of Lady Jane. * I have followed Froissart's version of the fate of John de Montfort, but another account states that he escaped after some years' captivity, returned to Brittany, and died soon afterwards. BERTRAND DU GUESCLIN. A Tale of Chivalry. I sing a lay of chivalry, Of that good knight, and tried, Du Guesclin, unsurpassed in arms, Our country's trust and pride. In battle-field, in council-hall. E'en in the donjon-cell, Constant and fearless amid all, And true to France as well. Woe to the base marauding crew Who rob and spoil our land ; When, to reward their dastard deeds. He leads abroad his band. BERTRAND DU GUESCLIN. 43 Back to your dens, ye Gascon thieves, Slink back in dumb dismay j If but du Guesclin cross your track, Your crimes he will repay. So quick to form his plans for war, So ready in pursuit, A witch was said to grant him aid. His schemes to execute. He freely gave the spoil he gained Unto his comrades true ; His wealth he spent right lavishly, As all good captains do. His arm it was maintained our cause, When in distress we lay; Gave life to all our wasted realm, And kept our foe at bay. His deeds, his leadership' so brave, The whole of France reveres j His very name was worth to us A thousand gallant spears. 44 BERTRAND DTJ GUESCLIN. Strong were our foes, and bravely led By captains skilled in fight; Of gentle blood and noble deeds, Of truth and honour bright. The Prince of Wales, by courtesy. Had won the world's renown ; Whilst in the thickest fight he held The glory of his crown. Sir Walter Manny long had borne A true and stainless name; And many a siege and hard-won field His strength and skill proclaim : Sparing no pains to help the wronged, When woman claimed his aid ; Fearing no odds, when for the right He drew his trusty blade. Eustace d'Arabreticourt was known, A knight of prowess tried ; Captal de Buch oft led to war. Of Gascon arms the pride. BERTRAND DU GUESCLIN. 45 Sir Robert KnoUes was well beloved, Though not a man of birth, By all those free companions, Who riot o'er the earth. John Chandos, that good captain strong, Was chiefest of them all, None of his deeds, in peace or war, Could any ill recall. And none could stand his mighty charge, When he came on in fight; Dauntless in arms, in council wise, He was a peerless knight. Aye, render praise where praise is due, They gave us blow for blow. The victory no less will seem, When stoutly fought our foe. Nor will Qur champion suffer wrong, If at their deeds we glance, For against leaders brave like these Du Guesclin fought for France. 46 BERTRAND DU GUESCLIN. 'T was in a time of peace, he called His bands for foreign fray, And thirty thousand men-at-arms At once the call obey. They gathered round his pennon proud, E'en for a war unknown ; What soldier cared a jot for that, They trusted him alone. And soon he led this host to aid The rightful king of Spain, And drove the false usurping lord Away from his domain. The work was done, our noble chief Dismissed his bravest men. Without a thought that he would need Their well-tried arms again. Ere long, within the English camp. Plots 'gainst our captain rose. The Black Prince easily was led To join du Guesclin's foes. BERTRAND DU GUESCLIN. 47 He summoned to his aid at once Th'^ knights of Acquitaine, And with a tried and veteran host, Set out to conquer Spain. The armies met in deadly strife Upon Navara's field ; The Spaniards, clad in armour light, Were first to fly and yield. How could our troops, the English check By the great Chandos led? Soon all became an utter rout, And each in terror fled. And many a gallant knight of France, And many a squire brave. Fell dead upon that foughten field. And found a nameless grave. But ah, we suff'ered more than that, Which time might soon repair; They seized du Guesclin in the fray, A captive's lot to share. 48 BERTRAND DU GUESCLIN. That fiery spirit would rush on, Amid the thickest fight, Where in the press o'erbome he fell. Before the English might. Shame and confusion o'er us came. The tidings wide were spread, Our captain in a hostile hold. Our country's hope all fled. Ah ! bitter was that news to France, Fraught but with black despair. The cries of woe, and pain, and grief. Resounded everywhere. " Oh ! Heaven preserve our much-loved land. Lest war should lay it waste ; Oh ! send us help in this our need, When ruin comes in haste." Our realm was girdled round by foes. Watching on every side. And foreign lords held half our towns. Detested for their pride. BERTRA.ND DU GUESCLIN. 49 O'er all the vine-clad Gascony The English king held sway; Poictou, Rovergue and Angouleme Had all become his prey. Over the plains of Picardy The towers of Calais frowned. And 'neath that harsh and iron yoke Lay many a lordship bound. De Montfort ruled o'er Brittany, Allied to all our foes ; The towns of Flanders, prone to arms, Ne'er gave their lords repose. The knights of Limousin were spent With fight and conflict stern ; None from their mountain-forts could drive The robbers of Auvergne. Now woe were we, our noble chief Far-off a captive lay; And closely would the English keep The prize of that sad day. 50 BERTRAND DU GUESCLIN. But in the hold du Guesclin lived, Without a trace of care ; He sang, he laughed, and what he had. Made all around him share. Why give up heart ? The chance of war May any man befall ; Leave grief to those who basely turn, And fly their country's call. So long in captive bonds he lay, That envious rumours rose. How from those walls he ne'er would part, Held by his cruel foes. Neither the Prince nor Chandos dared To meet him in the fight ; For right well both of them must know He was the better knight. The tales thus whispered through the camp Soon reached the Prince's ear; Full wroth was he that men should think He acted thus from fear. BERTRAND DU GUESCLIN. 51 He sent at once to fetch our chief, And asked if well he fared ; And praised his gallant feats of arms With many a gracious word. Wisely du Guesclin answered him : " My lot is not the best ; But why should I bewail my fate When I 'm a Prince's guest. Within your walls I have not heard The joyous skylark's song; Still in my soul those thoughts can rest, Which to true knight belong: " My bleeding country's groans arise. Whilst in your hold I lie, Without the power to aid her cause. Or at her call to fly. Full oft, when, lying in my cell, The timid mice creep round, I dream the Prince will give me leave To seek some nobler sound." 52 BERTRAND DU GUESCLIN. " In captive bonds," the Prince replied, " You need no longer be ; Swear against me to fight no more, At once you shall be free." " No force from me," the prisoner said, " That oath will ever wring ; The donjon-cell I'll call my home. Ere I desert my king. " And, Prince, your valour was misled. When, on an errand vain, A base usurping lord to help. You entered into Spain. Has he not wronged and falsely lied To your victorious band? Where are they now? Ruined or dead. Far from their native land." The knights around the council-hall All felt his words were true ; The Prince spoke not for his ally, Whose guile too well he knew. BERTRAND DU GUESCLIN. 53 " Then, Bertrand, if I set you free, What ransom can you pay? The tale I dare not let you go, I will prove false to-day." ^' I 'm but a humble, needy man. As poor as I was bom; My lands are pledged, my goods are pawned, My state is most forlorn. To purchase arms and battle-steeds My money has been spent; Be generous, name some modest sum; To my sad case relent." Then said the Prince, " I leave to you, Most gallant knight, to name The ransom just at which you will, Your liberty reclaim." " Right, noble Prince," du Guesclin said, " Thanks for the grace you show ; You never shall repent the trust. You place in England's foe. 54 BERTRAND DU GUESCLIN. "Poor as I am, my worth in war, I dare not rate as small. When all my country calls for me, In camp, and court, and hall. A hundred thousand crowns of gold, For ransom 1 will pay, Your courteous deeds shall be proclaimed Wherever I may stray." A murmur through the chamber ran, When those proud words they heard; The Prince looked up, amazed, and laughed At such a sum absurd. " I ask you not to jest, but say. How much you think is due ; To ransom any belted knight, Ten thousand crowns would do." " No, Prince, you trusted in my faith," Du Guesclin firmly said, " I am in honour bound to prove, Your trust was not misled." BERTRAND DU GUESCLIN. 55 "But, Bertrand, you shall never be Unto yourself unkind, The ransom you have named is more Than you can ever find." " Let sixty thousand be the sum,. I pledge my troth to pay ; " " Agreed, when next we meet, 't will be Amid the battle-fray. Yet ere you go, say whence you hope This vast amount to draw, By theft and pillage from our land. Or by the force of law." "My king, at once one half will pay, His captive knight to gain : I look for half from- him I served. The rightful king of Spain. If not, then all of France will join, Du Guesclin to set free, And think their gold expended well, To buy my liberty. 56 BERTRAND DU GUESCLIN. " Although I can no -beauty boast, With features plain and hard, With many a mark of bloody fray. Gashed o'er with wounds and scarred; Rather than let their champion lie Within your castle bound, The ladies of my land, right soon. My ransom would have found. " A thousand demoiselles of France, As good, as well as fair. Would sell their very rings and chains, The bodkins in their hair. And should that prove too small a sum. They would all toil and spin. That e'en a true French knight like me His liberty might win." He ceased. A murmur of applause All round the chamber ran ; We honour, 'mid the din of war, The great heroic man. BERTRAND DU GUESCLIN. 57 Before he left, John Chandos rose, Who well du Guesclin knew. To pay unto his enemy, The tribute he felt due. " Bertrand, twice have our lances clashed, In Brittany and Spain, I joy to think we yet may try The fate of arms again. Pray come, accept a loan from me, To fit you for the fight. Ten thousand crowns I nej'er shall grudge. To help so true a knight." Du Guesclin thanked the noble Prince, The knights around the hall. And his gallant foe, John Chandos, He thanked the most of all. The donjon hold, the Gascon bounds, He left that very day. Some Frenchman's home that night, I tro.w. When he arrived was gay. 58 BERTRAND DU GUESCLIN. And soon through France there sounded loud A ringing shout of glee, — It rose from hall, and camp, and fort, — "Du Guesclin is set free." The very words at once gave Hfe, ,' A talisman of joy, We looked around composedly. Our thoughts had no alloy. Now joy, du Guesclin will us lead. Who then the combat fears? Now joy ! we shall gain victory ! The future bright appears ! Now joy ! Du Guesclin was constant, When fortune turned away! The lesson he has taught so well No man can now gainsay ! Come, gallant knights, take up your arms. No more in castles hide, Perform again those feats of war Which we shall name with pride. BERTRAND DU GUESCLIN. 59 On yon invading enemy Bid all our troops advance. And, with du Guesclin our champion, Free the fair realm of France. THE KNIGHT-ERRANT. I can fight and I can dance, I can make my charger prance, I for sport can break a lance, I can win a lady's glance. Nought of land to me belongs, Yet they sing my deeds in songs. How I 've righted woman's wrongs, Borne her pledge 'mid hostile throngs. All the world around I roam. E'en across the salt-sea foam. Arm^d men can find a home, In whatever land they come. THE KNIGHT-ERRANT. 6t Is there one by might oppressed, Maiden wronged or sore distressed, Though it be from east to west, I to help will start in quest. For the cross I oft have fought. Holy prize, so dearly bought. As the reverend men have taught, On my shield its sign is wrought. Now I claim a time of rest, Doff my helm, and doff my crest. Seek to please my lady best. Win her smile with courtly jest. And I mount my palfrey fair, Hound in leash, and hawk in air. Drive the red deer from his lair. Give no thought for anxious care. Who can lead a life more gay. Blither far than friar gray, Shipman tossed upon the spray. E'en than maiden in her May? 62 THE KNIGHT-ERRANT. Woman's praise I 'm bound to sing, Claim her love and wear her ring. Who 'gainst her says anything, At his feet my glove I fling. HYMN OF THE FIRST CRUSADERS. The time is near, the world must end, Its pomps and shows must pass away, On sacred soil I fain would spend My life, until that awful day. I fain would seek the lowly stall Wherein my blessed Saviour lay, And all his wearied steps recall « Along that sad and doleful way. I would in truth thy soldier be — O speak the word, Give favour. Lord, That I, Jerusalem may see. 64 HYMN OF THE FIRST CRUSADERS. The infidels that land defile, Hold it inthralled in utter gloom, Abuse thy saints with hate and guile. With bitter jests scoff round thy tomb. Oh ! might I use my arm to aid. And wipe away this foul disgrace, I would depart, of nought afraid. For thou in Heaven would give me place. I take the cross on bended knee. And join the band. Who seek thy land, Jerusalem, thy own to free. I oft took part in bloody fight, For empty fame, or man's applause. Now I will strive for Christian right. To wear thy sign, the hohest cause. I quit the court, the mazy dance. The tilt-yard, and the hunting-field, I only crave that I my lance, Upon the foes of Christ may wield. HYMN OF THE FIRST CRUSADERS. 65 Oh grant me grace that I may see Thy city's gate. Whate'er my fate, Jerusalem, I fly to thee ! I leave my wife, my child, my home ; My wealth I count as dross and dust ; 'Mid far-off lands I soon shall roam, In God my only stay and trust. The ancient triumphs of my line. The glories of my far-famed crest. They all will pale before that sign. The red-cross on my mailfed breast. I do not seek a high degree ; My mind is stayed. To bear thee aid; Jerusalem, thou shalt be free ! The dangers of the way I know, — The ever-restless, fitful wave. The weary march, the watchful foe. The sickness striking e'en the brave. E 66 HVMN OF THE FIRST CRUSADERS. The desert waste, the burning sun, The lack at times of daily bread, — All these and more, I will not shun. If I that holy soil may tread. And if I fall by land or sea, An angel-quire Will lead me higher; Jerusalem I then shall see. Our Christian host will clear the land. And forth the infidels will chase ; Each red-cross knight, with keen-edged brand, With joy will guard each hallowed place. The city of our Lord we '11 hold, Each wall, each ancient gate count dear; Prize e'en its pavement as of gold. The holy cross o'er all uprear. With steadfast hearts we seek for thee, Each valiant knight Has sworn to fight, Till thou, Jerusalem, art free. HYMN OF THE FIRST CRUSADERS. 67 Another city God has made, Far off above yon azure sky ; No hostile foe can e'er invade Jerusalem in Heaven on high. Its walls the cherubim defend, Its gates all shine in golden blaze. Its joys unmixed will never end, Its courts resound with holy praise. And this is God's secure decree — Each Christian slain Its walls shall gain, Jerusalem his home shall be. Those many-mansioned courts will hold The saints who served their Lord the best; Their secret deeds will then be told, Mid angel-songs and music blest. In idle sloth I dare not wait, When I may win an entrance there j That blissful rest, that golden gate, I humbly, firmly, hope to share. 68 HYMN OF THE FIRST CRUSADERS. And there at last I fain would flee ; Mid holy joy, Without alloy, Jerusalem, my home to be. CCEUR-DE-LION IN PRISON. My friends all left me long ago, None for their lord their love dare show, None dare defy their dastard foe, None come to soothe the captive's woe. Forsaken, ay forsaken. With joy the hunter tracks the bear, Confronts him in his savage lair. And e'en his murderous claws will dare ; one grants to me a thought or care. Forsaken, ay forsaken. ■JO CCEUR-DE-LION IN PRISON. I lie bound in a dismal hold, These clanking chains my limbs infold, Watched day and night by ruffians bold. Eager to sell my life for gold. Forsaken, ay forsaken. They mock me with the name of king. They use the word with galling sting ; Instead of royal crown, they bring The iron bar, the heavy ring. Forsaken, ay forsaken. What now are worth those deeds of fame, Sung loudly once with proud acclaim ? This fetter-lock my pride must tame, Ay, drive my soul to thoughts of shame. Forsaken, ay forsaken. My trusted knights have turned aside. And let my hated foe deride, — Their chief in arms, their comrade tried ; But where is she, my love, my bride, Am I by her forsaken? CCEUR-DE-LION IN PRISON. 71 She in my acts who took her part, Freely forgave my fickle heart, And swayed my life with woman's art ; Ay deeply then my soul must smart, If I 'm by her forsaken. The mother ne'er forgets her boy, The wayward child, her life, her joy, Whose welfare all her thoughts employ ; Nought can that endless love destroy. No, not by her forsaken ! My God, for whose dear cross I fought. In wars with hidden dangers fraught. Thy praise at risk of life I sought. And are these deeds to go for nought? Am I by thee forsaken? But did I ever strive aright, With object pure before thy sight ; Was not my aim amid the fight Gain for myself, and honour bright? Ay, thus am I forsaken. 72 CCEUR-DE-LION IN PRISON. Now on my knees my sin I own, And all my selfish acts bemoan ; Oh let my prayer approach thy throne, And by some sign let it be shown That I am not forsaken. Can no one hear my feeble strain. No echo give the sound again? Then must the captive sing in vain, And from the .dream of hope refrain, By all the world forsaken. Blondel sings. The sound which comes with plaintive swell. Thrills through my soul with magic spell, And draws my steps like marriage bell. The tune my king once loved so well, Can never be forgotten. CCEUR-DE-LION IN PRISON. 73 I too will send it back again, And tell, in spite of hostile men. The captive bound in yonder den, In this remote and lonely glen, That he is not forgotten. Long have I sought thee far and rear, 'Mid caitiff holds and deserts drear; Lord to my inmost heart most dear, Let this thy ardent spirit cheer, Thou art not yet forgotten. Then listen to a brother's lay, Firm to thy cause on darkest day, Who would this truth to thee convey, Though thou in bonds wert far away. Thou couldst not be forgotten. The foughten fields thy blood has dyed, Where none thy furious charge dare bide ; The Moslem foe all dashed aside, The dread thou scattered far and wide, Can these be e'er forgotten? 74 CCEUR-DE-LION IN PRISON. Thy generous deeds the camp all knew, By such thou did thy foes subdue ; Beloved by all the warlike crew, Thou lion-hearted knight most true, Thou ne'er shalt be forgotten ! The Moslem mother stills her child With tales of thy adventures wild ; Now in yon fort thou art exiled. By treachery and fraud beguiled, But not by all forgotten. Though every knight from thee has flown, Thy court has left thee all alone. Though woman fails to hear thy moan, Thy woes to one true friend are known, Thou art not yet forgotten. A brother bard, who loved thee long, Will wander every camp among. And sing in every armbd throng This bitter tale of guilt and wrong. Thou shalt not be forgotten ! CCEUR-DE-LION IN PRISON. 75 Oh yet a little bear the chain ; Thy lion-heart awhile restrain ; Fret not thy life in useless pain, Thou shalt thy liberty regain, Thou ne'er shalt be forgotten, And cannot music lend her power, To while away the glpomy hour. And change this den to magic bower? Cheer up, though in this lonely tower. Thou art not yet forgotten. THE SENESCHAL DE JOINVILLE'S TALE. On selfish ends all men are bent, For that in toil their lives are spent; With eyes towards earth they march along, Seeking for greed by actions wrong. Ay, e'en our very purest scheme, Touched by the wand of truth, would seem A cunningly-contrivfed plot. For self, by self alone begot. Yet one from this unbending law I will except; for well I saw Thy steady faith, thy constant prayers. Thy noble deeds 'mid wracking cares. Oh ! holy king, Saint Louis. THE SENESCHAL DE JOINVILLE'S TALE. 77 Time on my limbs has placed his seal, But time will ne'er my faith congeal, In what I knew, and saw of old, Thy godly words, thy love untold, Thy humble, self-denying life, 'Gainst worldly pride, thy daily strife. One use of power alone thou knew, To right the wronged, to aid the true. Thy glittering gems thou counted nought, One costly prize was all thou sought; A royal crown in heaven to wear, Was, when on earth, thy only care. Oh ! noble king. Saint Louis. When Paynim swarms around thee poured, And small the band who owned thee Lord, Then thou, the dauntless knight, arose. And calmly faced thy Master's foes. Couldst thou but fight for Christ alone, No greater joy to thee was known ; To suffer in that holy cause. Thou sought for more than man's applause. 78 THE SENESCHAL DE JOINVILLE'S TALE. No dreams of glorious war were thine, But that on high the cross might shine; For that, thy inmost soul's desire, Thou laboured with a hero's fire. Oh ! peerless king, Saint Louis ! The warrior, 'mid the clash of arms. May rest unmoved by war's alarms. May watch the squadrons round him wheel, The fatal lines of hostile steel j To charge, may hear the trumpet's clang. Without a moment's faltering pang; And yet there lurks in each man's soul Some source of dread beyond control. To fall by sin, thy constant fear, A terror to thee ever near; A ghostly dread of Heaven's strict law Filled all thy soul with secret awe. Oh! Christlike king, Saint Louis. E'en when, amid that doleful land. That boundless waste of burning sand ; THE SENESCHAL DE JOINVILLE'S TALE. 79 When not a sign of aid was near, AVhen all were downcast, all was drear; When 'mid our ranks fell sickness preyed, When e'en the bravest felt afraid ; When food grew scant, and famine spread. When nobles had but mouldy bread ; When strong men parched with feverish thirst. Fell stricken by that clime accurst ; Thy share of pain thou took with joy. With face unmoved, without annoy, Oh ! steadfast king, Saint Louis. When slumber in the weary night Was chased by dreams of woe and fright ; When home, and all our hearts loved dear. Blighted with sorrow would appear; — The wife, so joyful once and fair, Mourning alone, and wan with care; The boys, their father's hope and pride. With none their wa)rward steps to guide; — Then thou, unmoved by idle fear, Amid our ranks spoke words of cheer. 8o THE SENESCHAL DE JOINVILLE'S TALE! Bade each in earnest hope arise, And trust in Him who rules the skies. Oh ! holy king, Saint Louis. Like to a furious maddened swarm, Our weakened camp the Moslems storm. Ah ! who can tell that tale of dread, When Christian knights in panic fled. The loss upon that gory plain, The heaps of dying and of slain, The fiendish shouts, the conflict wild, The cross by Pagan men defiled ; The captive trains in bondage led. Their future hopes destroyed and dead ; Heaven let this bitter doom be thine. That thy true life might brighter shine, Oh ! godly king. Saint Louis. Before the good, e'en fiends will bend. Their sins will veil, their ways amend. Will watch the steps, with heart-felt awe. Of those sustained by Heaven's great law. THE SENESCHAL DE JOINVILLE'S TALE. 8 1 At first the Paynims sought to slay Him whom they feared in battle fi-ay ; Then wonder o'er their hard hearts stole, They bowed before his mighty soul. The prisoner bound, they all could see, Lived without fear, unfettered, free. The wildest warrior of that race Was still before thy Heavenly face. Oh ! matchless king. Saint Louis. The wicked cannot rest in peace; To plot, the Moslems never cease. By factious men their king is slain, Their camp with tumult sounds amain. Soon envy's hateful words they hear, Each on his fellow looks with fear : Who then shall rule that furious band, Ascend the throne, the realm command ? To where thou lay they turned their eyes ; They thought of thee, so just, so wise. 82 THE SENESCHAL DE JOINVILLE'S TALE. " Could they not give their captive sway ? Could they a Christian's rule obey?" Oh ! glorious king, Saint Louis. But such was not thy destined fate, Soon ended was that wild debate. They could not from a king so pure The calm and light of Heaven endure. For a great sum, thou and thy train, Were set at liberty again. A ghastly remnant spent with toil, At last regained their native soil. No rest for thee, whilst heathens boast They hold the land thou prized the most; Waging anew that holy strife. On Afric's shore thou closed thy life, Oh ! dear loved king. Saint Louis. Last night, when all men sought repose, A holy vision 'fore me rose ; My chapel shone with heavenly light. My king all glorious met my sight. THE SENESCHAL DE JOINVILLE'S TALE. 83 To me he said — " Oh, comrade tried, I will some time near thee abide; True servant of thy risen Lord, Heaven fourfold will thy deeds reward." Now I will build a holy shrine, To be of thy great deeds the sign ; And for this token to my eyes, Shall praise to God for aye arise. Oh ! blessed king. Saint Louis. PASCUAL VIVAS. Caballeros, stop and listen To a legend of the past ; 'T is a tale whose sounds will echo Long as Spain herself shall last. Listen, how our God and Father Keeps his people in their need; How he aids them, when they seek him, And through dangers will them lead. How he sends his holy angels, O'er his chosen saints to guard ; How he deigns to grant his favour, When they keep his statutes hard. PASCUAL VIVAS. 85 How he gives his servants succour, And his comfort when distrest; If they honour him 'mid strangers, How their deeds are always blest. For our our sins the land was troubled By a cruel Moslem host; Ever)rwhere the crescent flaunted, All the south of Spain was lost. Only in one mountain region Were there Christian soldiers found. Who by force of arms and valour. Kept 'gainst fearful odds their ground. Count Gonzalez was the leader Of this tried and faithful band ; And he watched with eye unwearied O'er the sad and woeful land. From his mountain camp at Gormaz, You might see a blaze of light ; Villages and hamlets burning, Peasants hurrying off in flight. 86 PASCUAL VIVAS. E'en to Burgos spurred the Moslems, Wasting all the country round, Making captive Christian damsels, Spoiling every church they found. Trusting in their barbed horses. In their scimitars of steel ; Boasting loud that none dare meet them. Of the warriors of Castile. But the Christian band is ready, That great host to keep at bay; And to conflict stern will follow. Where Gonzalez leads the way. Numbers, might and power defy them. But they know in whom they trust. Who with ease, can rout the Pa)Tiim, As the whirlwind drives the dust. " Look below, along the Douro, See its banks are dark with men ; Hear the prancing of the horsemen. And the cries they raise again." PASCUAL VIVAS. 87 Such, when dawned the early daybreak. Was the news our scouts did bring ; Then through our lines right joyfully, Loud the shouts for battle ring. And as each man dons his armour, To St. Stephen's shrine he goes, There to ask for God's forgiveness, And for strength to meet his foes. That endued with saintly blessing. In the conflict he may feel. Neither fear, nor thought of danger, At the clash of hostile steel. There before the cross they lighten All their load of anxious care ; Whilst the priest, with voice sonorous. Patters forth the Church's prayer. And the first mass now is ended, In a band they rise and go. With Gonzalez, to the battle, There to meet tlieir Moslem foe. 88 PASCUAL VIVAS. But not all have left the chapel, One before the cross remains ; One still bows in rapt devotion, Drinking in the hallowed strains. With his helm and glittering breast-plate, With his spurs and waving crest, There still lingers from the battle A true knight, by all confessed. None did ever doubt his prowess, 'Mid the thickest of the fight ; None did ever see him falter, When the Paynims charged in might. Ever prostrate at the altar, Joining in each prayer and rite. Till the masses all were ended, Was the custom of that knight, Pascual Vivas. At the door the charger ready Champs and bites his bit with rage. PASCUAL VIVAS. 89 Mad to bear his noble master Where the hostile lines engage. Listening to the solemn cadence, Only, on the mass intent, There unmoved, remained with reverence. And with helmet lowly bent, Pascual Vivas. Loud arose the shouts of battle, Clash of arms, and trumpet's clang. Tramp of horse, and charge of footmen. Whilst the javelins round them rang. And the cries of war came upward To St. Stephen's holy shrine ; But they passed around unheeded. Nor gave any word nor sign, Pascual Vivas. With his armour buckled on him, At the portal stood the squire. Loudly growling that his master Showed no proof of knightly fire, 90 PASCUAL VIVAS. Bore no help against the Moslem, When the rest to conflict sped ; Only to the mass attentive, Neither stirred nor moved his head, Pascual Vivas. Now the Moorish army rushes On the scanty Christian band. Bearing down in dire confusion, All who would their charge withstand. " Knights, who love your God and Saviour, Keep bis holy cross from shame; If before the shrine thou stayest Lost for ever is thy fame, Pascual Vivas ! " Then a thousand fiends torment him, Turning all his deeds to sin ; " Laggard, craven, traitor, coward, Hear'st thou not the battle's din. When the fight is past and over, Who will mention thee with praise ? PASCUAL VIVAS. 9I Will not all men mock and flout thee, Scoff at thee 'mid public gaze ? Pascual Vivas ! " Rnow'st thou not thy brethren suffer. In the deadly strife below? Yet thou creeps away, and leaves them, Nor for them will strike a blow. Leave the prayers to Monks and Churchmen, Now the time to dare and do. Thou canst win the gates of Heaven, Fighting like a Christian true. Pascual Vivas ! " Who among the maids will love thee, Or to thee give answer fair, In the tilt-yard, they will shun thee. For this fight thou didst not share*; In the dance, and at the banquet, They will pass thee by with scorn. And this fight, the Spanish damsels Will for ever make thee mourn. Pascual Vivas ! " 92 PASCUAL VIVAS. 'T is a saint's day, long protracted Are the holy church's prayers, And the priest performs the service, Nought disturbed by outward cares. Not until the rites were ended, Did he move, or seek to go, Then bethought him of the conflict, And the cruel Paynim foe, Pascual Vivas. And into the saddle vaulting, With his well-tried lance in rest, Off he flies to seek the Moslems, With proud helm and waving crest. But a moment, and he falters, And a shudder o'er him came. And his crest no more waves proudly, " Has some evil struck thy frame, Pascual Vivas?" 'T is the sight below which grieves him. Fills his heart with sudden pain, PASCUAL VIVAS. 93 For the fight is fought and over, And no honour can he gain. " Thou hast missed this glorious battle, Where thy friends have won renown. Thou must bear their bitter scoffing, Thou must lay thy knighthood down, Pascual Vivas ! " Scorn is oft a doleful burden, Added to a load of care ; And the guiltless feel the sorrow, Which it makes its victims bear. Often have the Moorish squadrons Felt the keenness of thy blade ; Now thou startest at the shadow Which thy very plume has made, Pascual Vivas ! Up, there rides a mounted gallant, Coming quickly from the field, Covered o'er with marks of battle. On his helm and battered shield. 94 PASCUAL VIVAS. " Hail," said he, " our noble champion, Hero of this well-fought fight ; All men seek around to honour Thee, of Spain the bravest knight, Pascual Vivas ! " Other warriors now approach him, Bearing tidings from the fray : " Long and vainly have we sought thee, Would'st thou hide thyself?" said they. " All men haste to do thee reverence, For that errand were we sent, And our Count Gonzalez waits thee, With his nobles, in his tent, Pascual Vivas ! " Like a dagger was each greeting. To his heart's blood cutting keen. But he bore the pain in silence, By the crowd around unseen, Till within the tent he entered, 'Mid that brave and warlike band. PASCUAL VIVAS. Who had come, with Count Gonzalez, To receive with welcome grand, Pascual Vivas. "Bravest of our Christian army, Victor of this bloody fray. We would all the great deeds honour. Which thy arm has done to-day. When amid the Moslem army, . Thou didst cleave a pathway wide. All did think some power supernal Had been sent thy might to guide, Pascual Vivas." "Count and nobles, I am guilty, I was absent from the fight, 'T is with shame I here confess it, You may spurn me from your sight; But I call my God to witness, That the time was spent in prayer, How I grieved, the battle over, That my banner was not there." Said Pascual Vivas. 95 96 PASCUAL VIVAS. "What a merry jest thou makest, Thus to come, with solemn tone. Like a monk his psalms repeating. And refuse thy deeds to own. Ah! I see thou 'rt not in earnest, Thou dost seek for more than fame ; Then we '11 give thee lands and houses, Yonder vale shall bear thy name, Pascual Vivas ! " When upon our van the, Moslems Burst, as does the winter's flood ; When to gain the ford we laboured, And the Douro ran with blood ; Thou amid the press was foremost. And thy blows dealt thick as hail, As the surge of war rolled onward. Thou made all the Paynim quail, Pascual Vivas ! " At thy charge, the Moorish squadrons Fell, like swathes of new-niown grass, PASCUAL VIVAS. 97- On thou rushed to certain conquest, Driving forth a routed mass ; And the iield is heaped with trophies, Helms, and flags, and coats of steel ; A whole army fljdng, shows that Thou art champion of Castile, Pascual Vivas ! " Long the Moslems will remember How this day has curbed. their reign; And their women will mourn over Those who by thy sword were slain. In the mosques through all Morocco Loud the wail of grief will rise. As they think of brothers, lovers, Tom for ever from their eyes, Pascual Vivas ! "Look upon thy helm and corslet. They are battered with the fight; Blows upon them have been thundered. And their marks remain in sight. G 98 PASCUAL VIVAS. Now, wilt thou repeat thy story, Wilt thou tell that merry jest. How amid the raging battle No one saw thy lance and crest, Pascual Vivas?" With amazement, at his armour Looked that sad and downcast knight ; There were blows, and dust, and dinges, And the bloody sweat of fight. What could mean these strange illusions, Which all present seemed to share ? How had come these marks of conflict? In the fight he was not there, Pascual Vivas. Then arose the holy mass-priest, Bowed with age and withering care. Skilled in all the ways of heaven, Wise from watchings-oft and prayer. ^' Count, through all this morning's worship, Kneeling at St. Stephen's shrine. PASCUAL VIVAS. 99 I did see a plume and corslet, And that plume and helm were thine, Pascual Vivas. "Thou wast not in yonder conflict. But St. Stephen took thy place; 'T was St. Stephen bore the onset, And the Paynim horde did face. Whilst thy form bowed down in silence Humbly at the altar's side. In the field the Saint was gaining Conquests, which shall be thy pride, Pascual Vivas ! " From the band who stood around them^ Rose a murmur full of joy. That a Saint had deigned to bless them. And a Christian's arms employ. That, unseen to human eye-sight, There were angels in the host; That, of all earth's truest warriors, He by heaven was honoured most, Pascual Vivas. 100 PASCUAL VIVAS. Forth they go, in long procession, Up to Gormaz' holy fane, There to render thanks and masses For the victory of Spain. Count Gonzalez and his nobles, All who laboured in the fight, Joined to honour and pay reverence To that humble saintly knight, Pascual Vivas.. Caballeros, there 's a lesson In the subject of my song : Always seek for heavenly guidance. E'en amid the courtly throng. Do not fear to own His statutes. But your God 'fore all confess, And He '11 give you crystal mansions, And on earth your deeds will bless. THE GALLEY SLAVE'S PRAYER. Chained to a heavy oar, Smarting at every pore, Sick at heart's deepest core^ Earthly, joys passed and o'er. ! Be to the wretched near ! . Hear me, my Saviour, hear ! Slave to my country's foe, E'en his success my woe. Driven by blow on blow. Harder my torments grow. Oh ! Thou, by man reviled. Watch o'er thy fainting child ! [ 32 THE GALLEY SLAVE'S PRAYER. Fed on the meanest fare, Sleeping in open air, Brooding o'er dark despair. No resource left but prayer. Jesu ! in mercy save, Hear e'en an abject slave! Oh! when I wildly dream. Future hopes never gleam. Home and its joys now seem Fled, like the rushing stream. Jesu ! thou Saviour mild, Pardon my ravings wild ! No one to claim as friend, Curses my ears offend, Sufferings without an end,- — Thus all my life I spend. Jesu ! thy aid I seek, Strengthen my courage weak !. THE GALLEY SLAVE'S PRAYER. 103 Ah ! if my loved ones knew How, 'mid a ruffian crew, All my days sadly flew, Grief would their souls imbue. Thou, who canst still the wave, Hear me, and quickly save ! Fettered with iron bar, Dead to the crimes of war, Nought to expect afar. Scarce e'en a guiding star. Jesu ! to thee I cry, Be to thy servant nigh ! Life but a bitter load. Grievous with cross and goad,. Earth but a weary road. Never frail man's abode. Jesu ! thou art the way, Lead me to brighter day ! I04 THE GALLEY SLAVE'S PRAYER. E'en when the tempests' roar, Hard by the rock-bound shore, Dripping with sweat and gore. Still my thoughts upward soar. Jesu ! thy words are just, In them I place my trust. Yes, I on thee rely, Thou hears my fainting cry, Thou hast a harbour nigh, Amid yon azure sky. Thou wilt for me provide. My Saviour, friend and guide. Captive I cannot be, I in my bonds am free. For thou hast heard my plea. And died to ransom me. Earth cannot bind me long, Heaven shall be now my song. THE GALLEY SLAVE'S PRAYER. 105 Rest, holy rest is there, Rest which a slave may share; Joy, joy without a care. Glory beyond compare. Rest, joy, all shall be mine, Freedman by love divine. Past is the gloom of night, All before glimmers bright, Steadily spreads the light, DazzUng my aching sight. Feeble my frame may be ; Jesu ! I rest in thee. THE GOOD QUEEN BESS. By hard-fought trial man grows great, By constancy in adverse fate, By uprightness in low estate, Thus does the hero rise. And nations grow through conflicts stem, Through struggles hard at every turn ; By lessons roughly taught, they learn To seek some noble prize. We owe to those who lived before, The burning noon-day heat who bore, Who battled with the tempest's roar, A debt we ne'er can pay. THE GOOD QUEEN BESS. 1 07 Now look at them with reverence due, Recount their deeds of valour true; The banded foes around them view, Held back by their array. Look at the surging, eddying strife, 'Twixt new-born truth and error rife, Which tried so long our nation's life. And fixed its future doom. The ancient thoughts not passed away. Fraught with destruction and decay; The yearnings for a brighter day. To break the deadening gloom. The lingering relics of the past, Like way-worn wrecks by ocean cast, The onward progress hurrying fast To found an era new. Thus closed the royal Tudor race, Whose glory time will ne'er efface, In her whose rule we now would trace, And her great acts review. Io8 THE GOOD QUEEN BESS. France echoed then with shouts of woe, Of slaughter, not by foreign foe. But friend by friend, with secret blow. Amid the silent night. A monarch plotting 'gainst his guest, And turning deeds of shame to jest, Slaying the men who could the best Maintain his kingdom's might. Those sounds all England heard with dread. Men mourned the good and noble dead, Distrust and doubt around them spread, With fear of further woes. The court was clad in sable dress, And shared in all that dire distress, Whilst thoughts of vengeance and redress In each true heart arose. Good cause they had to be afraid, The peers to Rome gave secret aid, And the old faith was still obeyed By many a distant shire. . THE GOOD QUEEN BESS. 109 Whilst foreign priests, in stealthy guise, Wandering about to shun surprise, Gave counsel to their friends to rise, And 'gainst the realm conspire. And in the north of Britain's isle, A rival, with false-hearted smile, Our good Queen's subjects would beguile From their allegiance true. Those plots, so full of broken plight, Those mazes, dark as darkest night, Perhaps we ne'er shall know aright. Or give to each her due. Where then was England's firmest stay. Amid that angry, wild affray. Which, like the ocean- scattered spray. All round our shore was seen ? On one devolved the weighty care To keep aloof from foreign snare, And for the worst the realm prepare. That one was England's Queen. no THE GOOD QUEEN BESS. A woman raised 1o a throne, No brother, sister, all alone, Yet by her deeds she oft had shown She could uphold her sway. Blest with no equal to advise, With well-thought words and loving eyes, And share, 'mid empty court-disguise. The burden of the day. A woman, all alone, no child E'er with its infant tongue beguiled. Or harassed with its frolics wild. The solitary queen. None whom she loved to take her place, Greatest and last of all her race, Some mournful thoughts at times would trace Her proud and royal mien. Alone, and yet not quite apart, She heard with grateful woman's heart The tales, how for her love did smart All England's chivalry. THE GOOD QUEEN BESS. Ill She saw the glittering world compete To lay its homage at her feet, And triumphed in the incense sweet Of its glad rivalry. Her country, she her husband named, Her subjects, she as children claimed ; And through her reign one thing she aimed, That all her rule should bless. And her great wish she well achieved ; Though oft her heart might be deceived. Her people still in her believed. Their good and great Queen Bess. Defender of the faith new-bom, No true allies but those forlorn. Oppressed abroad, and held to scorn By Europe's mighty lords. None else but such, whom she dare trust To join with her in struggle just, And face the treacherous tempest-gust. None else, and their keen swords. 112 THE GOOD QUEEN BESS. Indeed, within the donjon-cell, Rome's craft once held in bondage fell The girl the people loved so well; Ay, too, and sought her hfe. Delivered from the snares of men, Like Daniel from the hon's den, The queen herself had ample ken How deadly was that strife. They were the firmest to her throne Who well the rage of Rome had known. Or from its funeral fires had flown, In bloody Mary's days. They felt in her was fixed their weal. They strove for her with ardent zeal. And what was weak they would conceal. Bent to extend her praise. In one 'bove all she did confide, Her counsellor astute, her guide. Who caused her bark secure to glide, Her pilot in the storm. THE GOOD QUEEN BESS. IJ3 Burghleigh kept watch the kingdom la'&r. Tracked out each scheme, each rankling sore. Lest foes should o'er the country pour, A devastating swarm. And Walsingham had charge to foil The plots, wliich grew on foreign soil; To grasp their tangled threads, and spoil The spoiler of his prey. And many statesmen served her weD, Maintained their trust, whate'er befell, Bore her unharmed, through troubles fell. Through many a stem afifray. A warrior band upheld her rights, Inured to arms in Border fights. Where, with a swoop like ravenous kites, They harried all the land. Ready to fight with utmost glee, Sometimes on shore, sometimes at sea; To keep firom foes their country free, Was their ambition grand. 114 THE GOOD QUEEN BESS. When Sidney in the battle bled, When such as he our armies led, The deeds of chivalry still spread Among our nobles brave. Amid the scenes of war were found Gallant courtiers, firmly bound On feats of arms, which shall resound Whilst Britain rules the waves. In every southern creek and bay A fleet, all armed for deadly fray, Kept constant watch, that they might prey Upon the ships of Spain. Small craft they were, of meagre size, But swift to seize each goodly prize. To steal on them with quick surprise. Nor did they watch in vain : Afar from England's shores they sail. Whilst Spanish towns their course bewail, And mourn their prize-illumined trail. Which o'er the ocean shone. THE GOOD QUEEN BESS. 1 15 And treasures torn from Indian slaves, The riches dug in golden caves, In open fight upon the waves Were by these corsairs won. Hawkins was first to lead the way To daring deeds on ocean's spray, Till far-off lands rung with dismay, If but they heard our name. And every coast our ships explore, They learn the bend of many a shore, And future fruits their voyages bore. In England's naval fame. Southward steered Drake, on glory's track ; No fear of danger drove him back, Till round the world, through storm and wrack. He brought his ship again. The northern seas his fellows tried. Seeking, 'mid ice, some gulf-stream wide Through which their tiny craft might glide. Into the Indian main. n6 THE GOOD QUEEN BESS. The church released from Rome's hard cham, Its bonds all broke and snapt in twain, Was the great deed which marked her reign. And made her name so 'blest. And in the city's triumph proud, She took its gifts amid the crowd, And said, 'mid cheers which rung aloud, The Bible was the best. Then to our land exulting, freed, She welcomed back with eager speed The saintly fathers of our creed, From Zurich's safe retreat. She gave them rule in church and state ; And bishops, saved from martyrs' fate. Repaid h'er aid with reverence great, And loyalty complete. Thus, round our land a swarm of foes. No time for thought or for repose, Only to fight, and to oppose Their hostile plots and schemes. THE GOOD QUEEN BESS. Iiy Shall England falter and fall back, And shall she in her progress slaek, Or shall she gain, in honour's track, A place scarce known in dreams? It was our country's testing-place; Our queen and nobles tried a-pace, And struggled hard,, with steadfast face, To form a nation grand. Their efforts ended in success ; England their deeds will ever bless, 'Fore all, their names she will confess The mightiest of her land. She found the realm o'erspread with night, With gloomy terrors and affright; Of glorious morn, the sparkling light Soon spread its quickening rays. A galaxy around her throne, Such as the world had never knowra Before her latest years had flown. Shone with unrivalled blaze. Il8 THE GOOD QUEEN BESS. The greatest fleet the sea e'er ploughed, Marshalled with pomp and pseans loud, Came like a ruin-bearing cloud. Our island-home to seize. Our little ships upon her bore, And, 'mid the wild winds' friendly roar, Drove her away from England's shore, A prey to every breeze. Shakespeare gave lustre to this time. Weaving the fairest wreaths of rhyme ; No blooms so bright this northern clime Has ever since displayed. The fairy land, the wild-wood's flower, The lovers in their secret bower, — All fancy's flights, — his magic power, His master-touch obeyed. He made our ancient kings arise. And tell their thoughts without disguise ; Their courts, their camps, their loves, their lies. Are all in turn unrolled. THE GOOD QUEEN BESS. 1 19 The knave, the villain trebly dyed, The favoured son of fortune's tide, The lover doting on his bride To him their hearts unfold. Of belted knights was Spenser's song, From temperance, truth, and justice strong ; Who oft of fleshly sins the throng In deadly fight o'erthrew. The cross 'neath which the champion bled. The lion by chaste lady led, The house with holiness imbred, To these he gives the clew. Raleigh, to wild adventures dear, Yet shining oft 'mid court career, Or warbling songs in lady's ear With gay and gallant mien ; He planted, with a fostering hand, The first of our colonial band. And named that young and virgin land From our loved maiden queen. T20 THE GOOD QUEEN BESS. There have since then been times of sloth,- To ravel which we are but loth, — Of long misrule, of ill-pruned growth, Of grievous ill-success. But back we turn our fondest gaze Unto those deeds of former days. Which still stand forth with dazzling blaze Around our Good Queen •Bess. LUCIUS CAREY, VISCOUNT FALKLAND, Who fell at the Battle of Newbury, 1643. We saw thee to the battle ride, No fear of death o'er thee did bide. No more than thou would shun thy bride; Yet mournfully thou looked and sighed, And to thy comrades sadly cried, "Peace, brothers, peace." Through England's bounds thou had no peer ; Truth to thy inmost thoughts was dear. To stand by it thou didst not fear. Thy voice, in accents firm and clear, Deep in our souls we seem to bear, " Peace, brothers, peace." 122 LUCIUS CAREY,, VISCOUNT FALKLAND. No truer patriot e'er we saw, 'Gainst secret wiles and legal flaw, Firm to maintain thy country's law. Yet strife thou shunned with holy awe, Its cries no words but these could draw, " Peace, brothers, peace." And when, at length, thy fellows tried Their king to scorn, their church deride. Thou their attempts did firmly chide; And from their counsels stept aside : Whilst at their traitorous deeds thou cried, " Peace, brothers, peace." Against their lawful king and lord The rebels strove, with dire accord. And o'er the land their armies poured. Thou at his bidding drew thy sword. Yet still these words thy thoughts record, "Peace, brothers, peace." LUCIUS CAREY, VISCOUNT FALKLAND. 1 23 To keep thy ancient fame and name, To save the crown from abject shame, The gloomy Roundhead wrath to tame, — For these when to the king thou came, The words thou spoke were still the same, " Peace, brothers, peace." And thou art gonej we ne'er shall find So much of good to one assigned, So rare, so richly stored a mind; Yet, above all thy hopes combined. One object only thou designed, "Peace, brothers, peace." And yonder ranks have laid thee low; Yon sombre, dark and sullen foe, Made up of zealots crude and low. Who from thy hand no wrong could know ; Thy love to all, thy words must show, "Peace, brothers, peace." 124 LUCIUS CAREY, VISCOUNT FALKLAND. Must dross like that our vitals drain, Our gentk: blood all spilt in vain, Whilst o'er the realm the rebels reign ? Ah! had we listened to that strain, Which echoed oft with sad refrain, " Peace, brothers, peace ! " Ah ! woeful fray, we long must weep The harvest rank, these conflicts, reap Of good and true, now laid to sleep : But in our memory rooted deep, Thy heart-felt words we love to keep, " Peace, brothers, peace." The good, like thee, are aye so few ; By silent deeds thy worth we knew; Now o'er thy grave our tears we strew. England, bewail thy son most true. And treasure up his last adieu ! " Peace, brothers, peace." LUCIUS CAREY, VISCOUNT FALKLAND. 135 When paxty wrath abroad does pour Its venomed strife, its cries for war, Let men take heed, and ponder o'er That message from a heavenly shore. Which from thy lips fell evermore, " Peace, brothers, peace." THE PURITAN SOLDIER. With joy unfeigned we meet our foe, Though numbers vast round us are bending ; Man's strength is but a fleeting show, The greatest, God can overthrow; The fight is one which He is sending. Whilst we in Him place all our trust, No earthly force can stand before us ; We are engaged in quarrel just, 'Mid powder-smoke and weapon-thrust, An eye divine will e'er watch o'er us. THE PURITAN SOLDIER. 127 Like whirlwind sent to slay and smite, He guides us in the battle gory; 'T was thus the shepherd-boy in fight Put all the Philistines to flight; To God alone we give the glory. He chooses who shall rule the earth, Their portion to His own has given ; He brings to light the men of worth. Whilst those who vainly trust in birth. As outcasts at His beck are driven. Each Saint must act as if alone, For this great work he was anointed ; Hew down their Gods of wood and stone. Their images in dust be thrown, For so has God Himself appointed. Throughout the land His word we spread, The priests and prelates all shall tremble ; The swarm which Rome for guile has bred, Before our shout fly, smit with dread, The truth we never will dissemble. 128 THE PURITAN SOLDIER. Our only thought to do His will, It nerves us amid foes and dangers ; To strive 'gainst every wrong and ill. The ranks of His great host to fill With those to Him no longer strangers. And for our sins He will atone. When each at last his soul shall render, How long must then His people groan? Oh ! let the Gospel-light be shown, Poured forth with its resisdess splendour. CANTERBURY. Round the chapels and the cloisters Where the sainted Becket lies, Many a thought and many a legend Of the dreamy past arise — Of Augustine's sacred mission To the fair-haired Saxon race ; Of the mighty Dunstan, daring Kings and even fiends to face. — Of Lanfiranc, the first of Normans, Chicheley, who built the tower, Anselm, Bredwardine, and Langton, Bishops girt with princes' power. — 130 CANTERBURY. Of the world-renownfed martyr. Slain within the minster's walls ; Of the kneeling suppliant monarch, Who the monks for mercy calls. — Of that shrine, for wealth and splendour Throughout Europe unsurpassed; Of the motley troops of pilgrims, O'er the sacred way who passed. — Of that Prince, with swarthy armour, Ever victor in the field ; And "to serve," the noble motto. Still inscribed beneath his shield. Yet the minster has a story Grander far than aught of these. Though not blazoned forth on marble, Or on shrine or sculptured fiieze. See, within the crypt, a chapel Filled with homely wooden pews ; Hear the hymns in French arising, And the prayers not those we use. CANTERBURY. I3 1 Thus it has been hardly altered For three hundred years and more, Since the storms of persecution To our shores some exiles bore. They were suffering sons of Calvin, Seeking for some friendly strand. For they could not rest in Flanders, Where proud Alva scourged the land. And they told of dismal dungeons, And of tortures at the stake, How their homes were robbed and spoiled, For God's laws they dare not break. We had then not long been rescued From the cruel power of Rome ; So all England rose to welcome, And for them provide a home. In old Cantuar's noble minster We received this brother race ; And its vaulted under-chapel Was their early resting-place. 132 CANTERBURY. There they held their holy worship, There they had their children's school; There was heard the noisy shuttle, And the workman plied his tool. And these poor and homeless strangers Laboured hard to earn their bread, 'Mid the minster's old traditions, Near the ashes of the dead. Thus our church, so great and mighty, Welcomed this small band of woe ; In her bosom gave them shelter. Struggling 'gainst a common foe. Many changes have passed o'er us. Since the time when first they came ; But, 'mid every change and tumult, We have guarded them the same. Still beneath our first great minster Dwells this nestling from the storm; Still we find these sons of Calvin Resting in this refuge warm. CANTERBURY. 'Mid the chimes the great Bell Harry Echoes forth for holy prayer, Let us learn how well our fathers Strove their brothers' woes to bear. 133 PESHAWUR, 1857. What mean those looks of doubt and fear, Those muttered words which none should hear, That bringing-forth of fighting-gear, Of match-lock, sword, and oft-used spear, In all thy courts, Peshawur? Those Affghans, ready for the fray, Those warlike hordes in fierce array. Waiting till once the war-cries bray ; Will they not scatter wild dismay. And sack thy fort, Peshawur? * Since these lines were written, England lias lost one of her most heroic sons ; Sir Herbert Edwardes, of Mooltan and Peshawur, lias been taken from us. PESHAWUR, 1857. 135 And rumour spreads with winged speed, Of England's loss, and England's need ; That hated race, sole bent on greed, Now none so low as them to heed. Wilt thou obey, Peshawur? Shall the whole land of India ring, Defiance to the English fling. Whilst all the native chieftains bring Aid to support their chosen king. And thou be still, Peshawur? The base usurpers driven out. Held up to bitter scorn and flout. No pathway safe for them about. To fly in wild-confusfed rout. Yet thou looks on, Peshawur ! No loss can e'er to thee accrue. Rise, slay the fliying English crew, — , So panic-stricken, and so few, — The deed no man can make thee rue. Thou wilt be safe, Peshawur ! 136 PESHAWUR, 1857. Look up at yonder Khyber hill, Think on the page its stories fiU,-^ The armbd host, equipped with skill. Destroyed by those they sought to kill, Close to thy town, Peshawur! But think again ; who bears the rule. With steady arm and judgment cool, Can make thee quail like boy at school ; Stay, ere thou rise and play the fool, Wait and be wise, Peshawur! Thou knows his deeds in days of old. How with some twenty horsemen bold He stormed and took a robber-hold. No willow-withes will e'er infold Thy English chief, Peshawur ! Think of the war on Mooltan's plain. Where rival chiefs did strive amain To bind their brothers with his chain, That they the best, his praise might gain. Who rules o'er thee, Peshawur ! PESHAWUR, 1867. 137. In truth it was a trying hour; Rolled in the dust was England's power, Her chivalry, her youthful flower ; But none did see that chieftain cower, Who held thy gate, Peshawur ! Of what might come he knew the worst. The mountain-tribes, for spoil who thirst. If once his arm gave way, would burst, Like to a locust-cloud accurst. O'er India's plains, Peshawur ! And now that English hero stood Ready to stem the angry flood. E'en at the cost of his heart's blood. So that he gained, his country good, And, too, thy good, Peshawur. No Paladin of Arthur's band, No red-cross knight in Holy Land, No feat of arms 'mid plaudits grand, In merit true, can ever stand With what thou saw, Peshawur ! 138 PESHAWUR, 1857. His trast was not in force alone; 'Mid Moslems who in bondage groan His faith unflinchingly was shown ; He dared his God and Lord to own, And so he held Peshawur ! The treaty he so lately made, So fairly-framed, so justly-weighed, To break, no Affghan chief assayed ; Whilst all went wrong, they gave no aid To menace thee, Peshawur ! Their hero-chief, full well they knew, His purpose good, his promise true; They would not then the fight renew, And quiet lay the warlike crew, Who watched round thee, Peshawur 1 Still war's alarms make India reel ; Lawrence, and Nicholson, and Niel, Havelock, and Hope, and William Peel Fell victims for their country's weal. But far from thee, Peshawur L PESHAWUR, 1857. ijg And so it was till peace arose, And spread her veil o'er ghastly blows, With. balmy rest for India's, woes j Each mail, the message homeward goes, That thou art safe, Peshawur ! Give honour to the men who fell ; None to the full can truly tell The horrors of their dying knell, — How brave they struggled, and how well, — But not near thee, Peshawur ! The soldier glories in the fight, In battles won and troops in flight ; Whilst rapine hovers round in sight. With crimes we dare not name aright. Peace was thy lot, Peshawur ! And are not deeds of peace the best, — Justice to all maintained, professed. The highways safe from east to west. The fruits of toil none dare molest ? 140 PESHAWUR, 1857. Such was the state for thee most blest, When thou for years the rule confessed Of Edwardes of Peshawur. THE EARL OF DERBY.* Mourn o'er the statesman departed and dead, Mourn o'er the noble to Lancashire dear, Mourn o'er the chief who our country oft led, Yeoman and merchant-prince, mourn round his bier. Sprung from an ancient race. Proudly his deeds we trace ; Fondly we '11 cherish in story and song How, in unequal fight, Armed with true courage bright. Dauntless he fought on, unwearied and long. * This appeared in the Liverpool Mail, 30th October, 1869. 142 THE EARL OF DERBY. How, whilst they crowded the grand senate hall, BrilHant and sparkling, his clear words were heard, Seeking to tried paths the nation to call. With love for England impressed on each word. Labouring to free the slave. Honouring the good and brave. Thoughts of self never his conduct inspired ; First in the great debate. Skilled in the craft of state, Genius unrivalled his eloquence fired. Oxford rejoiced in the laurels he gained, And her chief seat was at length his reward ; To fame, the hard path he never disdained. How well he laboured, his works will record- E'en in his later days. To the loved classic lays. With a boy's ardour, he eagerly turned ; THE EARL OF DERBY. 143 Then the true poet's crown, And the wide world's renown^ Nobles and critics consent that he earned. His meed of honours let heralds proclaim, — How he watched over his people with care, How he responded to poverty's claim, — Monarch and peasant alike the loss share. Thus all his life was seen, Scorning the base and mean. Striving for right, not for false-won success ; Loved by the country round, Never his like was found, Lancashire true to him long will confess. When, from invasion their homes to defend, Peaceful men girded the disused sword. The bands of the county his summons attend, Obeying the lead of their great northern lord. Like to a feudal chief, Ruling o'er many a fief, 144 THE EARL OF DERBY. Round him they gathered from cottage and hall. Scarce e'en for battle-fray, Could e'er a Stanley say, Such armfed numbers had answered his call. Firmly determined his Church to maintain, Watchful, lest traitors should sell her for gold, He sought to rescue from uses profane The sacred things left by wise men of old. He in her need was found. Leading the county round. Steadfast to hold up the cause he felt dear. And for the Church's sake, Striving her shield to make, Was the last fight of this true Cavaher. HEAD WORK AND HAND WORK. See how well the craftsmen laboured On the master- works of old ; How each stroke, with care and forethought. On the rising fabric told. Nought was stinted, nought forgotten, Which would make perfection sure ; For their toil was not to perish, But for ever to endure. Slowly rose the ancient minsters. Strongly framed in every part; Pinnacle, and shaft, and buttress Fretted o'er with cunning art. 146 HEAD WORK AND HAND WORK. Round the rows of clustered columns Fruits and flowers are twining still, Wrought in all their wealth of beauty By those ancient craftsmen's skill. Whilst the spire, that heavenly landmark, Shoots aloft with airy grace, And the massive tower is shrouded With a sculptured robe of lace. Well the moulded frame of iron Shields the saint's or noble's shrine ; And its twisted knots and emblems Bear the marks of deep design. Everywhere we find quaint fancies, Which the craftsmen loved to trace ; Here the master, there the 'prentice. Gave some legend to the place. See the brightly-imaged windows. And the stall-work carvfed fair; Every tool-mark on the frame-work Proving still the master's care. HEAD WORK AND HAND WORK. 147 Must we rest in silent wonder When on works like these we gaze? Can we never hope to equal Those who wrought in by-gone days? And what stops our onward progress, — Must the naked truth be told? 'T is the craftsman and the master Are not as they were of old. We now glory in our knowledge, In our economic laws, In our labour subdivided, Of our wealth the source and cause. Now one mind the plan must furnish, And the tools k thousand wield; And for cheapness all must labour. That the work may profit yield. If the ledger shows a balance, All has answered well, we say ; And we care not though our fabric Shows the signs of quick decay. 148 HEAD WORK AND HAND WORK. Now a gulf yawns, cold and dreary, 'Twixt the master and the man, — 'Twixt the brains which plan the model, And the hands which work the plan. But those ancient masters laboured Both with brain and cunning touch ; And the building was the glory Of the men who laboured much. On those stones they carvfed lessons, Full of wise and holy thought ; And their works were then the study, Where the crowd were duly taught. There is nothing base in labour, 'T is the common lot of man ; And 't is noble where in union Head and hand work out their plan. And it is the best of teachers, Better far than formal schools, Mind at work, and busy guiding, Whilst the craftsman plies his tools. HEAD WORK AND HAND WORK. 1 49 And there is a joy in labour, Which the workman knows alone, As the living figure rises. By his skilful strokes, from stone. Work well done, gives greater pleasure, When the skill of one it shows. Than where thousand varied craftsmen Aid to bring it to a close. And the men who watch and labour. When their tedious task is done, Should receive their meed and praises, For the fruit their 'toil has won. If we would have future progress. Hand must closely work with brain ; Those who toil must share the glory, In each onward step we gain. FOUNDATIONS.* Would you build secure and steadfast, Strong the shocks of time to stand, Like a pine-tree with its rootlets. Stretching far on every hand? — Must your building last for ages, When its neighbours are but dust, — ■ Staunch, though weather-stained, and tinted By the winter's angry gust? — Would you have each wall and roof-tree Firm as when they first were made. Looking cheery, half defiant. Of no enemies afraid ? — * Suggested by the question, "Is not the converse of Long- fellow's * Excelsfor ' equally true. Should we not regard the ground on which we stand, as well as the point to which we aspire ? " FOUNDATIONS. 151 That your house be deeply founded, Should be then your foremost care, Rooted in the ground, and bonded, Fit the upward load to bear. — That it do not rise too proudly, Till the base be firm and fast ; If the lowest course be worthless, Nothing placed on it can last. Though your pinnacles and turrets May arise with airy grace, 'T is the homely useful basement Which must stay them in their place. They depend for their existence On those resting next the earth ; 'T is from them they rise aspiring, 'T is from them they take their birth. From the gay and ghttering tinsel. To those parts of little note, Must the wise and careful builder First his energies devote. 152 FOUNDATIONS. Thus must rest our social fabric, If it long will hold its place ; Surely fixed on strong foundation, With a broad and ample base. Resting on a people happy. Well-contented with their lot. With their share in all its fortunes, And for tumult seeking not. Firm, for each may gain an interest In the land which gave him birth, Feel he has a stake to fight for, That he has a place on earth. — That the upward path is open. Honours fairly to be won ; Nought to stay the onward progress. When the race is well begun. — That each grade is mixed and blended With the one which lies before ; With no wide and harsh divisions, Galling to the nation's core. FOUNDATIONS. 153 And the more those grades are varied, Will the country's course be blest; And the more, in varying portions, That its riches are possest. For the power of social up-rise. Like the ocean's daily flow, From the fruitless wastes of mankind Sweeps off many a stain of woe. Safer rests the lordly palace, When there 's plenty in the cot ; When around, the smiling hamlets Show the poor are not forgot. And the hard-earned store the labourer Lays by for the future day, Binds him by a silken fetter. Unseen, but which ne'er gives way. And the rich are none the. poorer. Where the many have a stake, And can share the country's burdens. And its fortunes can partake. 154 FOUNDATIONS. Only where the parts are blended, Beauty can with strength be found ; As, to stay the lofty structure, Springs the buttress from the ground. Woe betide the wasted mansion, With the cranny in the wall ; Where the fast-increasing fissure Brings swift ruin over all. — Where the ancient links and fastenings Have no longer power to bind ; Where nought breaks the dreary silence, Save the sadly moaning wind. Mean and sombre is the building. Which for use alone is made ; Where all keep upon one level. None will pass the lowest grade. But where'er the base is ample, Let the shapely turrets rise ; And let use, combined with beauty, Render homage to the skies. FOUNDATIONS. 155 And the watcher on the summit Will obtain a wider ken, — "Will first see the driving tempest, Fraught with woe to toiling men. With a steady blaze, the light-house Guides the way-worn ships at sea; And its lofty form, afar off, Marks the rocks which they must flee. Some for service, some for honour, Have their several parts assigned ; Even with the brightest beauty, Nature has some work combined. Thus the gay attractive flower Must repay the buried root. By its useful task, fulfilling. When it shields the tender fruit. Let the several parts in union With no marked distinctions blend. Still it is the root, the basement. Upon which those parts depend. 156 FOUNDATIONS. Ay be wise, regard the lowly, Toil and fore-thought do not spare ; It will cause the whole to flourish, And repay your utmost care. OUR CHAIN OF COLONIES. We are an old and wealthy state, Of precious gems we have much store ; Gained long ago, by labour great, The world has none of value more. One above all we dearly prize, Spreading abroad o'er many a land, Bedecked in rich and varied guise, Of Colonies our noble band. Those offsets, sprung from England's stem. Still true to her who gave them birth. Form a gigantic diadem. Circling the vast expanse of earth. 158 OUR CHAIN OF COLONIES. In all his never-ending round, The sun must keep that band in sight ; As sentinels on watch are found, In turn they greet his welcome light. First when he leaves our little isle. To cheer our mariners at sea, One colony attracts his smile, The land which Cabot joyed to see. The fishing fleet, the shipwright's yard, The busy ports in turn appear; The barren soil makes labour hard, To those amid that clime austere. Then comes the saw-mill by the stream, With piles of logs, the forest spoil; The woodman's fires, which brightly gleam When rest succeeds the hours of toU. Far-off, amid the lonely west, His plot of land the settler clears ; And spares no toil, with hope most blest, To build the home for coming years. OUR CHAIN OF COLONIES. 159 And further still, where winter reigns, The hunter seeks his fur-clad prey, 'Mid forest glooms or ice-bound plains, By streams which rush with mad affray. Next, where the peaceful ocean laves Those fairy shores which Cook made known, The British standard proudly waves O'er realms far larger than her own. And one appears, of wondrous form. At our antipodes extreme ; With smoking peaks and fountains warm. The tree-fern and the glacier-stream. Australia, with its boundless plain, Affords another resting-place ; For ages will its soil remain A harbour for our teeming race. The baits which led the men of Greece To trust the fickle ocean's spray. Still lure us on. The golden fleece, The lust for wealth, o'er us bear sway. l6o OUR CHAIN OF COLONIES. Around his homestead in the waste, Unnumbered flocks the settler tends ; In loneliness his lot is placed, The shepherd on himself depends. At even-tide the watch-fire gleams Amid some camp on Afric's ground ; Out-spanned are all the patient teams, The waggon-homes are grouped around. To track the lion to his lair, To chase the spring-bock and gazelle. To watch long nights for game with care, — Such are the joys its inmates tell. And many a rich and balmy land, Which lies beyond the rolling main. Tempts us to leave our native strand, And wander forth in quest of gain. India, the fabled source of gold, Down-trod and spoiled by conquering hordes- Their destined prey from days of old, — Now owns us as her sovereign lords. OUR CHAIN OF COLONIES. l6r Yet not as home her shores are sought ; Before her withering heat we fade ; The gUttering prize to us is fraught With dangers we can not evade. As transient guests we view her courts, Resplendent with barbaric blaze ; We join in all her regal sports, But none hopes there to end his days. Our armbd sentry's tread they hear. Beside the far-famed Midland Sea ; On China's coast our troops appear ; Of many a land we hold the key. Such is the wide-spread band we own, One source of our great strength, our pride ; We stand not friendless and alone, An islet in the ocean wide. Unbroken may it long remain. Each precious gem still grace that ring ; None severed from the gentle chain, Which thoughts of home will ever bring. 1 62 OUR CHAIN OF COLONIES. The father's heart is filled with joy When he beholds his sons grow great ; May the same love, without alloy, Be cherished by the parent State. The parent loses not the aid Which to his infant child he lends ; A good return in time is made For all the toil which now he spends. Each in the other's joy will share. In adverse times their griefs will feel; Will help to ease the load of care, Will act the friend, come woe, come weal. Our colonies with promise smile On all the lowly sons of toil ; And them with rich rewards beguile, To haste and till their virgin soil. They offer to our land a mart. They spend with us the wealth they earn ; E'en those who to their shores depart Dream fondly they will soon return. OUR CHAIN OF COLONIES. 163 We share with them our name of fame, Our ancient glories are their own ; Our arts, our literature they claim. They stand not in the world alone. Whilst joined to them our land is young, She bears the brightest blooms of spring ; A pollard stem the waste among. When they no longer round her cling. If Britain loves the ocean's spray. If o'er its waves she gtill would reign, Then let her never cast away The links of her colonial chain. THE WORKMAN'S BELL. Loudly o'er the waking village, Rings at morn the workman's bell, And its sound, to labour calling. Echoes round with gladsome swell. Listen, to that friendly message, As it calls to daily toil; Listen to the notes of warning, 'Mid that clashing, clanging coil. Hark, it says — "Strength is not given Man to waste and cast away. But to use for earnest purpose, Working good from day to day! THE WORKMAN'S BELL. 165 " Thus at first our parents laboured, When the work of God they came, By his law to till the garden, And its varied fruits to claim. "Strength is noble, giving pleasure To the men who use it well; Strength is better than a jewel. Resting idly in its shell. " Strength is not a selfish blessing, Others trust to it for aid ; Thus the stately tree gives shelter, Shields the flower and tender blade. "And to use that strength is noble; See how much on it depends, And what fruits, for joy or sorrow. To the lowly home it sends." Loud again the ponderous clapper Sings a song of joyous mirth, -Of the fireside made cheerful. Of the fruits of bounteous earth. — 1 66 THE WORKMAN'S BELL. Of the home, and all the loved ones, Kept in health and kept from harm ; Of the tender and the helpless, Nourished by the stalwart arm. — Of that troop of goodly children, Full of hope and infant glee. Like a wreath of fair young blossoms. Clinging to the parent tree. — And, the honest labour ended, Of the sweetness of repose. And the blessing of contentment, Which the idle never knows. Strength is far the truest riches, Better than the miser's store; And we day by day must use it. For it soon will be no more. MUTATION. Is that wondrous story true, That the strong the weak destroys ; By it gaining force anew. Greater powers and purer joys? ■ That, by means of constant strife. Finer forms in turn appear; Each endowed with higher life, Meeter for some nobler sphere ? Does this law to man apply? Does he own its quickening power? Each new race the last out-vie, Growing onwards hour by hour ! l68 MUTATION. Are we blest with larger frames, Stronger than the men of old ? Do we work for higher aims, Ready still for deeds untold? Are our minds of wider range, Grander from the flight of time ; Rising upwards at each change, Seeking higher and higher to climb ? Can we sing sublimer strains Than the bards of ages past ; Bounding free from earthly chains, Through the starry regions vast? This is not the tale we read In the annals of our race : That the strong will aye succeed To a high and higher place. See the flying patriarch Lot Crouching in a lonely cave; All his early ways forgot. Seeking but his life to save. MUTATION. , 169 Edom, Ammon, both could tell How they sprang from Abraham's race, And within some mountain dell Found a savage resting-place. Watch the mystic, changeless Nile Flowing as it did of yore ; With a people poor and vile, Plagued with many an aching sore. Fallen from the race, which left Those proud trophies o'er the land. Of all higher life bereft, ■ Without thought or feeling grand. Some poor outcast, wandering horde, Resting 'neath a ruined fane, Marks a nation, once the lord Over many a fertile plain. Howling solitudes surround What was once the pride of man ; Abject ignorance is found, Where the arts their course began. 170 MUTATION. Fallen are the men who dwell- In the lands of classic lore ; O'er them rests some deadening spell, And high deeds are theirs no more. And the strength of Rome has fled, Nought of her vast power remains ; Weakness and decay have spread, Where she bound the world in chains. For a wild barbarian crowd Shattered all her serried might ; And a long-unbroken cloud O'er her cast the ^ gloom of night. None have sailed o'er ocean's foam, Hardier than the Vikings old. Seeking dangers far from home. Framed in nature's fiercest mould. None have matched the Norman lord, Finding sport in bloody fight ; Never stronger wielded sword. Nor displayed more honour bright. MUTATION. 171 That our race should ever rise, Has not been its destined fate ; Untaught tribes have conquered wise, And destroyed the famed and great. And the law which governs man Nations must in time obey. Doomed, in the Creator's plan. To fail at last and pass away. As in outward strength they grow. So the germs of ruin spread. Weakening not by hostile blow, -But by maladies inbred. Till at last the victim dies. Smitten in some mean affray ; Tribes of lower form arise, And divide their wasted prey. By the law which rules o'er all, Those may rise of low degree ; But the proudest race must fall ; Such the doom it cannot flee. I 7 2 MUTATION. We may gain fresh strength and aid From some new mechanic art ; But no scheme which man has made Ever changed his destined part. The same joys and cares, remain, Labour still his daily lot; Still he toils with hand and brain, And from earth he riseth not. That to man the will divine Shineth now with clearer ray, Forms the great distinctive line 'Twixt the past and present day. Though from earth he cannot rise. Nor by self-made pinions soar, Radiant in his reach, there lies A bright land, a heavenly shore. A LIFE ON THE SEA. A life on the sea for the brave and the free, The timorous must not try it ; A hardy, daring race are we. Who gain our Hving by it. A plank on the sea is my saddle-tree. The foam on the waves my horse is ; I can guide my steed o'er a stormy lee, Though rough and rugged the course is. A cruise on the sea is a joy dear to me, In the roaring winds my mirth is ; I love that ever-changing melodie, In its wildest strains their worth is. 174 A LIFE ON THE SEA. The men of the sea are of high pedigree, The Vikings first did love it ; O'er the dancing waves and the billows to flee, Is a life a king might covet. The ships of the sea are a vision fair to see When their sails swell out with the breezes, And the flickering beams of the moon float free. And a silver sheen each wavelet seizes. The isles of the sea seem like gems to rae, O'er the waters brightly gleaming; Whilst the setting sun gilds each rock and tree, And the mountain peak with light is streaming. The sea, the rolling sea is a mysterie, its moods no man can number ; Far a-down lies many a historic. Untold, whilst the dead still slumber. The caves of the sea ever rich will be, Ne'er by human hands despoiled- There lie pearls and branched filigree, And gay flowers round them coilfed. A LIFE ON THE SEA. 1 75 But home from the sea, at times, must be The sailors' chiefest pleasure ; Friends young and old again to see, And her who is his dearest treasure. EMILE DE LAGNY. Francis First, that merry monarch, Once of woman's vows made sport ; And in truth the fair were fickle, In his gay and festive court. One 'bove all that fair assembly Loved him with her heart complete ; Pearl of Pearls, his own sweet mignonne, His true sister. Marguerite. But she could not hear his laughter, Or the odious sketch he drew, And remain unmoved in silence, Knowing well one heart was true. EMILE DE LAGNY. 177 Long the lively contest lasted, 'Twixt the lady and the king; And the word-play waxed warmer, Till he said, with galKng sting, — " Name but one, of all your beauties. Who her phghted faith has kept ; Prove it, we withdraw our banter. And your words we will accept. " Will you choose de Lagny's lady, Of her sex the t5rpe and pride ; Graceful, charming, modest, fair one. Clinging to her husband's ; side ? " When misfortunes thickly gathered Round the mansion of her lord, Then we saw the aid which woman To her true love can afford. " When de Lagny to the -donjon By his enemies was led, Emile, paragon of virtue, With a low-bom. valet fled M 178 EMILE DE LAGNY. Of the king's reproachful story, No one could the truth gainsay ; Yet, amid the courtier's laughter. Would not Marguerite give way. " As a maiden, she was spotless, None so true and none so fair, Shy and modest, as the lily Bending from the noonday glare. *' When her heart with love was smitten. And de Lagny's suit received, True was every word she uttered, He by her was not deceived. " All the world may think her guilty, Stained with deed of darkest hue ; I will take her as my model. Prove her faithful, pure and true. " In a month I will unravel All the meshes of the plot ; And I stake my richest jewels That her name shall bear no blot." EMILE DE LAGNY. With a graceful smile, the monarch Oifered a much higher stake ; Saying, that his sister's jewels He was grieved at heart to take. Marguerite made many an effort, Seeking high and seeking low ; Where had fled the erring lady. There was not a trace to show. Mocked her then the month, fast flying, Slackening not its headlong pace ; Mocked her then those glittering jewels. Soon another's form to grace. All the crowd of gallant courtiers Knew the lady's evil plight; None for love, or gain, could furnish E'en a clue to guide aright. Till one day there came a message From the prisoner in the tower; Saying, " I have heard the wager. Made by you in evil hour. 179 l80 EMILE DE LAGNY. •"T is but little I can offer, Captive, bound within this cell ; Yet the Emile whom I worshipped On my soul has left a spell. " Let me come before my sovereign. Let him hear, my sad lament ; At the out-pour of such sorrow, E'en the hardest hearts relent. " If the king forgives your wager. Gives you back your costly stake, Have a thought for him who helps you. Promise then my bonds to break." Willingly the king consented, It would make a merry jest; All the court should hear the story,' Told by him who knew it best. At a set time came the captive To relate his woeful case ; Tall and slender, closely muffled With his cloak drawn o'er his face. EMILE DE LAGNY. i8l In a moment he uncovered, And before their wondering eyes, With fair form and noble bearing, Emile stept from her disguise. At her look the slander vanished, Proved her innocence complete ; To the king she made obeisance, Bowed her thanks to Marguerite. " I have come to tell my sovereign Why my wedded lord I left, When by foes he was surrounded, And of hope itself bereft. '" Dark and gloomy was the donjon Where you held the captive bound ; E'en the sunlight, feebly struggling. Scarce could pierce its gloom profound. " By a silver key admitted, Oft I went his soul to cheer; By his side my courage strengthened, Far from him I quailed with fear. l82 EMILE DE LAGNY. " Soon there came a frightful rumour, He by law was doomed to die ; Then I begged to play the captive, Whilst, as Emile, he should fly. " Never since I knew my husband Had he looked with glance so stern ; Me, the tempter of his honour, From his sight he tried to spurn. " I besought him to consider. If he died, I, too, should die ; When he reached a place of safety. There by some means I might fly. " In my woman's weeds I decked him, Overcome by woman's guile ; Whilst I made his hasty toilette, I plead guilty to a smile. " That was then the erring lady, Who departed with a groom ; She who took his place was happy, E'en within that darksome room. EMILE DE LAGNY. 183 " Then, my liege, behold a woman Eager pleading at your feet, For herself to join her husband, And the gems for Marguerite." THE DOLLAR'S LAMENT. I am white, and I am bright, And I come from a far countrie ; I am a thing endowed with might, There are lands where they worship me. I 'm by far the chiefest star That guides half the ships on the sea ; I can loosen many a bar, Of wallfed towns I hold the key. I am small, but most of all I 'm wooed in every companie ; And crowds of gallants, great and tall. Have vowed I was their fair ladie. THE DOLLAR'S LAMENT. 185 I am round, the cloddy ground Has laid a heavy cross on me; The sordid men, they love my sound, From their embrace I cannot flee. I must mourn, to sorrow bom. My lovers are not true to me; They give me up for horse and horn, And change me for their banquets free. Regal state has been my fate, I 'd have you prize a humbler sphere ; The joy in honest toil is great. And peace will bless your deeds sincere. THE ROSE BUSH, A Medieval Legend. O rose bush ! O rose bush ! Who made thy crown so bright, Thy robe so richly woven, With hving gems bedight? O rose bush ! O rose bush ! Thy choicest flowers are red ; A glory, like the sunshine, Is resting on thy head. O rose bush ! O rose bush ! Oft are thy blossoms white ; Like fairy snow-flakes, flitting 'Mid winter's waning light. THE ROSE BUSH. 187 rose bush ! O rose bush ! Art thou of mystic birth, Bom in some sacred garden, Some spot of holy earth ? 1 may not, I may not Refuse, or answer nay; The market was my birth-place, Upon a public day. They slandered, they slandered A maid with words of guilt ; To die by fire they doomed her, The pile around was built. The guiltless, the guiltless Is soon amid the flame ; Around her shoots the red glow, She '11 die a death of shame. " Oh, mercy ! oh, mercy ! Oh, send me speedy aid ; Come, Lord, and quickly rescue, Come, help a spotless maid. l88 THE ROSE BUSH. " O Saviour ! O Saviour ! My innocence rrjake clear ; Oh, send a certain token Which may to all appear.'' Oh, marvel ! oh, marvel ! The faggots bud and bloom ; The fiery flames no longer Enclose an awful tomb. The maiden, the maiden Stands in a verdant bower ; Around her breathes the fragrance Of earth's loveliest flower. The faggots, the faggots Now into roses spread. The green twigs bear white blossoms, The flaming ones bear red. O maidens ! O maidens ! You call the rose your own ; Then see in it an emblem Where purity is shown. THE ROSE BUSH. 189 O maidens ! O maidens ! E'en amid grief and woe, The hardest path may blossom, And roses too may grow. O maidens ! O maidens ! If tried by godless foes, Oh, think upon my story, Take courage from the rose. THE WOOD-SORREL.* Under the forest shade, 'Mid mosses growing ; Gem of the leafy glade, Marvels foreshowing. Calmly it spends its days Living and blooming ; Shunning the noon-tide blaze, Loving the glooming. * The wood-sorrel is supposed by some to be the true shamrock, which St. Patrick used as an illustration of the doctrine of the Trinity. The receptacle which eontains the seeds, acquires the power of projecting them to a distance as soon as they become ripe. THE WOOD-SORREL. 191 Mark how its leaves unfold, Triunely joined ; As in the legend old, By the monks coined. May, when it comes to shed Life-giving showers, Bids the wood-sorrel spread Delicate flowers. Carvfed in ivory white, Fretted and veinbd, Or with a blush, though slight. Are her cups stained. Then, like a mother true. Safe her brood keeping; Guards the wood-sorrel too. When all are sleeping. Locked in her strongest cell. Fast the germ groweth ; Snugly it there may dwell. No harm it knoweth. 192 THE WOOD-SORREL. Till when the ripened seed Fully is moulded, Forth by a cruel deed Is it unfolded. Touched by a secret spring, All its ties riven, Through the air, by a sling, Frorn its home driven. And a plant where it fell Its fate revealeth ; When the spring's fruitful spell Through the wood stealeth. Thus does our country send Forth to new. regions, Her good fame to extend. Her sons by legions. Far away taking root, New homes preparing ; Fair flowers and goodly fruit 'Mid the wilds bearing. THE FOX-GLOVE. I am the pride of the woodland wide, No rival in its range I fear; Not e'en more gay the village bride, Whose sunny smile men count so dear. Look all around, to the Iftwly ground The daisy pied and primrose cling; Their flowers to earth are ever bound, Up towards the sky with joy I spring. I am a knight with a corslet bright, I bear aloft a stately spear; I keep on guard the live-long night. The dawning day still finds me there. 194 THE FOX-GLOVE. A gallant band of my brothers stand, All armed amid the leafy glade ; Each like a warrior, tall and grand, With blazon on his breast displayed. The coat I wear is beyond compare •With fabric wrought in earthly loom ; The sun and rain no toil did spare To broider fair my tapering plume. They decked my tower, like a lady's bower, With many a bright, enamelled cell; To man, each seems but a beauteous flower, Hanging around, bell over bell. The humming bee often visits me, And brings me news from absent friends ; He to my stores has access free. And, sweetly laden, forth he wends. And songs divine, round this seat of mine. The birds chant forth with joyous note ; The blackbird, lark and thrush combine. And nightingale with well-tuned throat. THE FOX-GLOVE. 195 The realm of night is my chief delight, When sinful creatures come not nigh ; When glow-worms gleam like emeralds bright, And meteors shoot across the sky. The fairies small, for their nightly ball, Select the greenwood's secret shade ; I stand erect amid them all, As chieftain of the flowery glade. They tread, I know, on the turf below, Their magic rings in mirthful sport; Sparkling like crystal specks they glow. Like glittering gems at royal court. Short time for play, ere the morning ray Has tinged the crest of yonder fell ; Each spirit must the sign obey. And creep into a pendent bell. Man looks at me, but he cannot see The denizens of might I hide ; What potent spells they could set free, To rouse the storm and rule the tide. 196 THE FOX-GLOVE. I dread the sound, in the forest round, Where woodmen wield theirponderous strokes; They spoil the fairies' festive ground, When they cut down Old England's oaks. THE OAK-FERN. 'Mid the mountain clefts and hollows Dwells the form of nature fair, Lending grace to tame the wildness Of some lone and rugged lair. There the oak-fern, gaily smiling, All her modest charms displays; Quite contented, though the dark rocks Only echo forth her praise. Glad, they give her kindly welcome, Offer her. a home secure. Promise to defend and shield her. Long as they themselves endure. 1C)6 THE OAK-FERN. E'en the grim and fractured boulders Rest amid their downward way, Rest, to greet the mountain beauty, And admire her bright array. Not in gaudy garments flaunting. Not decked out in glittering sheen, But the mountain livery wearing. Brightest, purest, truest green. Where can nature find an equal, 'Mid the lilies of the field, To the oak-fern's frond expanded, Borne aloft like true knight's shield ? And the spirits of the fell- side Guard their darling 'mid the rocks ; Safe, though o'er her sweeps the eagle. And though round her prowls the fox. When the tempest howls and bellows Through the land, with angry roar, Friendly mists cling round her dwelling, And a shadowy veil cast o'er. THK OAK-FERN. 199 And when cruel winter's onslaught Rives the rocks with secret blow, Safely may the oak-fern nestle 'Neath her bridal-wreath of snow. From her rough and rugged neighbours She has nought to make her fear ; Only is there danger round her When vain, thoughtless man comes near. E'en the wise and learned see not In her life a cause of joy ; They have marked her as their booty, And her beauteous form destroy. THE IVY. Reverently the ivy grows, Clinging to the shattered wall ; O'er its fallen greatness throws A thick veil, to hide its woes, — Always there, whate'er befall. That dark shield of ever-green. With true zeal the ivy spreads, When the winter-winds blow keen. When no more the flowers are seen. And to earth have bowed their heads. THE IVY. To face danger never loth, Fearing not the raging storm ; It uprears its sturdy growth, Faithful where it pledged its troth, Giving still a shelter warm. When the days of joy are past. Fickle-footed fortune fled, Then it comes to cheer at last, , O'er the ruined pile to cast Its umbrageous leaves and head. With a false though fair embrace, Gayer creepers clasp and bend ; Soon their kisses kill a-pace, But with upright stem and face The dark ivy lives the friend.* * Waterton is my authpr-ity for the perfect harmlessness .of the ivy to the trees to which it clings. See his "Essays -on Natural History," second series, page 68. 32 THE IVY. Ivy-mantled, ivy-crowned, Long the ancient stones may stand ; Strong in need its aid is found. The frail fabric firmly bound By a loving, living band. Sportive revels, courtly rites, Once those tottering walls have seen ; Lovely dames and noble knights Shared in all of earth's dehghts, Where now dwells the ivy green. And the cowlbd monks once sung Loud and long the vesper hymn, Where the ivy since has clung. And where silence reigns among, When the evening light grows dim. Be it castle built for war, Be it church where prayer was made. Careless what has been before, It will spread its foliage o'er. And hide the fallen 'neath its shade. THE IVY. Secret sins and untold crimes May have happened on that spot, By the guilt of long-past times Unconcerned, the ivy climbs, And for vengeance calleth not. In a dark-leaved ivy-nook, Mournfully the owlet tells, With a wise, sagacious look. How the world it once forsook, And in solemn twilight dwells.' Now the court-yard never rings 'Neath the tramp of armbd men ; Where its shade the ivy flings. One now hears the flap of wings. When the birds come home again. Or a chapter in the air. Where the feathered fowl debate, Why the land of food is bare, Why each cunning, tempting snare Brings with it a mournful fate. 203 204 THE IVY. But the sombre ivy-shade Spreads around a solemn awe ; By these birds no mirth is made, And their gayest serenade Is a sad and plaintive caw. Thus the ivy's form maintains Haunts, with memories round them cast, Dim-lit shades, where fancy reigns, Where the garish world refrains To dispute the shadowy past. THE NIGHT-ROW ON GRASMERE. Come, each one who loves the oar, Quiet lies the lake below; 'T is our Wont, when night creeps o'er, On its tranquil face to row. Place the lighted torch on high. Welcome is its friendly blaze ; Darkly frowns the lowering sky, And no star sends forth its rays. ■ Row, row, gently row,. Whilst some plaintive strain we sing. Sweetly echo, &int and low, Back, to us the sound will bring. 206 THE NIGHT-ROW ON GRASMERE. Let the boats together glide, Skirting close the pebbly shore ; In yon wooded banks abide Nymphs, who will our songs ^ing o'er. Brothers, that old mirthful glee, With united voices, raise; Maidens, aid the melodie, Charmed with thoughts of by-gone days. Row, row, gently row, Let the gleaming oars keep time, Whilst they silent, sweep, and slow, To our softly swelling rhyme. Now, let Loughrigg hear our song, Silver-How and Fairfield hear; And aloft the crags among. Which the jagged Helm does bear. Let us raise some loyal strain, Greeting meet for mountain king, And fill all the wide domain With the homage which we bring. THE NIGHT-ROW ON GRASMERE. 20? Row, row, gently row, Raise the jodel shrill and high, 'Mid the rocks it seems to grow, Loudly rings our Alpine cry. Let the sainted Oswald hear. Guardian of the valley wide ; And the water-spirits near, Where 'mid waving reeds they hide. Fairy forms, we pray, forgive, If unbidden guests we come. To the haunts where still you live^ And unseen for pastime roam. Row, row, gently row. O'er the smooth and glassy mere, Not a rippling breath does blow. And the echoes answer clear. On the verdant-margined lake. See the water-lilies float. Not a floweret would we break. Nor among them steer a boat : 208 THE NIGHT-ROW ON GRASMERE. For the valley's ancient rite,* Let them all in safety grow. Onwards now has sped the night, Homewards we must end our row. Row, row, strongly row. Bend the oars with heavier strain, Yonder point full well we know. Here we are come back again. * The rush-bearing. THE FAIRY'S POOL. Where the bounding streamlet flows, Where the verdant copse-wood grows, And its feathery branches throws, Beetling rocks protect from foes The fairy's pool. From the bracken-covered hill Rushes down the haunted ghyll, E'en in summer, cool and chill, And its limpid waters fill The fairy's pool. 210 THE FAIRY'S POOL. Amid rocks with woodbine gay, Bowered o'er with leafy spray, We can find a secret way, Though we never will betray The fairy's pool. If you scorn the crystal grot, If of sordid thoughts your lot, You may pass right near the spot. And its guardians show you not The fairy's pool. If you are of lowly mind, Reverent, faithful, good and kind. And to holy things inclined, Then come up the fell, and find The fairy's pool. Nought that 's rude should venture there. Nought alloyed with gaudy glare. Nought that ill to it could bear, Or with folly could impair The fairy's pool. THE FAIRY'S POOL. 211 From a gorge down leaps the burn, White with foam the waters churn ; O'er them waves the lady-fern, Fringed with verdure, none can spurn The fairy's pool. With its walls of rock so high. None the fairy folks' can spy Bathing 'neath the azure sky, Though he noiselessly comes nigh The fairy's pool. But that bath has magic power In the early morning ,hour, When the silvery mists still cower O'er that hidden sacred bower, The fairy's pool. He must be a swimmer bold, Who with strength his own can hold 'Gainst the stream in flood-time rolled From the mountains, which infold The fairy's pool. 212 THE FAIRY'S POOL. And the sun, with headlong ray, Pouring forth the glow of day. Just may glance, and then away ; And he dare not long survey The fairy's pool. Yet we sing its praise with fear Lest it reach some heedless ear, And a hackneyed path appear To despoil this scene most dear. The fairy's pool. THE SWISS MOUNTAINS COMPARED WITH SKIDDAW. How fair appears the snowy Alpine range When, far away, it looms amid the clouds, And, like the coast-line of another world. Lifts up its silver-edgfed form to heaven. Look from some nearer point, and all is changed ; That scene, so lovely in the summer's sun, Or flaming with the hues of mom or eve. Now seems a grand and deadly battle-field, Where all the elements of Nature wage A constant, though sometimes a silent, war. 214 THE SWISS MOUNTAINS See how the rocks lift proudly up their horns. And grimly frown upon the sea below, Which, with unceasing flow, grinds down their base ; And who is victor? Let the dirt-bands tell, And the moraine, heaped o'er with giant blocks ; The snow, once light as gossamer, wears down The mountain-heights, and bears through many lands Its spoil, down to the deepest ocean-depths. No mountain scenes have we to show like these ; Our English hills can never vie the Alps, Or match the marvels of the glacier-world. With weird and wondrous grandeur girded round ; Yet there are beauties, quite as fair as these. Nestling amid our turf-clad Northern fells. Look at their tints, which change in unison COMPARED WITH SKIDDAW. 215 With the fast-changing seasons of Ihe year; The garments which they wear are many-hued. In spring, they charm the eye in tender green ; Then summer comes, stained with* the marks of toil ; And autumn, when the purple heather blows, When fruit is ripe, and when the fells are clad In russet robes, the friendly bracken's gift ; And, with its drifting snow, last, winter comes ; The year's work done, the labourer rests from toil, And wears on high the silvered locks of age. We, too, have seen the snow-wreaths on our fells . , As beautiful as aught in Switzerland. The month of May had robed the valley-meads In verdure bright; the woodland slopes and glades, To greet with joy the birth of early spring. Put on their fair array of leaves and flowers. Then came a change, in wild and fitful gusts 2l6 THE SWISS MOUNTAINS The wind for two days whirled around the fells. At eve it ceased ; it was a Sabbath eve, And all the night was still. We woke to find A snow-formed glory on the mountain slopes ; In peaceful beauty Derwent lay at rest, Its woods and islands gaily smiled around, The rain-drops in the leaves lit by the sun ; The shapely Skiddaw rose above the lake, With all its many peaks and gorges, clad In one unbroken sheet of spotless snow. Faultless, without one seam or speck or stain, Like to the blooming maiden's bridal robe; And, as she stood in all her purity. The sun, delighted, gave her goodly gems, And fringed her garment with a silver hue. At the bride's feet the children scatter flowers ; And all the flowery hedge-rows and the fields Paid that glad office to the mountain-bride. Could all the Oberland, joined with Mont Blanc, COMPARED WITH SKIDDAW. 217 And that long range of Alps, which separates The German from the rich Italian plain, Find aught to English eye more beautiful? BAYEUX TAPESTRY. The castle wall will crumble into dust, The trophy 'neath the chancel arch with rust Will be obscured and dimmed. How can we best Read our past history; obtain some test And clue, by which we may discern and know The deeds of those who lived long years ago ? The legal parchment and the charter roll Are but dead bones ; they want the living soul Of those for whom their solemn acts were made. And what were parchments worth, without the aid BAYEUX TAPESTRY. 219 Of armfed force, in that long time of night When right was no where, and gave place to might ? Our knowledge of the past, ofttimes, we gain From unexpected sources, which retain Life-like, enshrined as in a crystal case, Their ways and manners true in every trace. The greatest scene which o'er our fate has swayed Thus lives for us on tapestry portrayed. — And by the canvas roll, which woman wrought, The tale of England's Conquest has been brought Within our ken. We look at it with pride, The sons of those who for their country died. And those who hardly won, are now the same ; None knows the race from which alone he came. 220 BAYEUX TAPESTRY. A Conquest e'en, in which the conquered gained, By it a place in history attained, Till then unknown : adding the Norman fire, The taste for art and law, the proud desire O'er distant lands and seas to rule and roam. To Saxon love for country-life and home. The great memorial which the Conqueror left, The book of doom to those, of all bereft But hope, is a mere chapman's list of gains ; Where lie enrolled, of those who wore his chains, The names and tenure, what the annual worth Which force could wring from those who tilled the earth. It was the ledger of a grasping king ; With miser's greed he mentioned everything Of value : meadows, houses, farms and wood ; Where by the stream the mill had ever stood. Where 'neath the shade the swineherd fed his charge. Where on the flood the fisher rowed his barge. BAYEUX TAPESTRY. 221 With these, a catalogue of landed men, Chief tenant, servant of the crown and thane ; Socman and burgher, priest of minor place, Villain and serf, the lowest of their race. Such is the legacy to us bequeathed By him, who o'er our land new vigour breathed. But from his queen, Matilda, there remains A worthier record. In far higher strains She sang, not of herself, but of that strife In which he conquered; he, with whom her life Was blended. With her maidens toiling long She wrought in needlework an epic song. His work was great, hers of a nobler key. Come to that French provincial town, and see The roll displayed in its museum. Look At its scenes with reverence, as at a book Replete with truth. Think it not rude in art ; Thy mother's mother may have worked her part. 222 BAYEUX TAPESTRY. See how Matilda tells her glorious tale, Sketching with loving hand each slight detail, Each wayside-scene, as that long fight is fought. Till all is won, for which her husband sought, — The lengthened labours of the Norman lord. Now using craft, and now the keen-edged sword. And first the envoys to Duke William's court Go gaily forth, equipped for woodland sport ; With hounds and hawks they start upon their way. The task an honour, and for pastime gay. None, as with smiles the sea receives their fleet, Give thought of loss or treacherous defeat. Where from the plain of sea and quaking sand, As by the wave of some magician's wand,1 Rises that wondrous pile of mighty rock, St. Michael's church crowning its highest block, The Norman force prepare their armed array To make the Breton foe their rule obey. BAYEUX TAPESTRY. 223 The Breton war is fought, the foe is quelled, The Saxon by the Norman lord is held A friendly captive ; nor is he set free Until, with many an oath right solemnly. He swears, on relics from his view concealed, England, beneath his sovereign sway, to yield. The oath, thus gained by craft, possessed no strength. The good Confessor dies ; his rule at length Is ended. Harold takes the vacant seat; And with loud shouts of joy the people greet Him as their ruler. So the lot was cast ; Of kings of Saxon race they chose the last. Look at the canvas ; see how doubt and fear Have seized the nation ; omens now appear Of coming change. With dread men look around ; They start, lest foes should rise at every sound ; And, overhead, a comet they descry, — A fiery portent shoots across the sky. 224 BAYEUX TAPESTRY. In Normandy, of doubt there is no sign, The Duke will claim the rights, which on the shrine He gained by guile. All through the land there rings The din of preparation. Each man brings, For the great enterprise, his share of aid. Trusting by England's spoil to be repaid. 'T was no light task to reach our sea-girt coast, To bear across the angry flood a host. With all the arms and implements of war. Ay this it was, which taxed the Normans more Than their great conflict with their Saxon foe, Than all the troops they had to overthrow. But read the tale Matilda's stitches tell : And first, a band commence the trees to fell ; A second hew the planks, and lay the keel, And build a clumsy craft, scarce fit to feel The summer's breeze, far less the storm to brave ; A third band drag it to the briny wave. BAYEUX TAPESTRY. 225 Then to the ships great stores of food they bring, And carts with casks of wine, and everything That war demands to ply its deadly trade ; The lance and buckler, helmet, casque and blade — Nothing escapes their leader's watchful care — No oversight which might his strength impair. And now the Norman fleet is on its way: At the masthead a standard they display. Blessed by the Holy Church. A numerous band On guard look eagerly for sight of land. And cooped within the ship a troop of horse. Soon to be proved the flower of all their force. The fleet has reached the white-chffed coast at last. The dangers of the fickle sea are past; The horses from the ships to land are led, With Saxon spoil the spits are fumishbd. 226 BAYEUX TAPESTRY. Blessing their ranks appears a lordly priest, They drink red wine, and thus the Normans feast. And soon the armfed men their camp defend, With ditch and palisade ; abroad they send Their scouts, some tidings of the foe to gain. The horsemen quickly scour the level plain. All eagerly make ready for the fight. Watchful, although no foe appears in sight. The Duke regards his lines with anxious eye. For he has ventured all to win or die ; Gives his last orders, and with counsel wise, Instructs his men that simple valour flies. Though backed by numbers and by steadfast will. Before the march of discipline and skill. Now see the battle on the canvas wrought. The troops engage, the deadly fight is fought. See the strange scene the needle tries to paint. To combat bearing but resemblance faint ; - BAYEUX TAPESTRY. 227 Where knights on party-coloured horses ride, The slain and wounded fall on either side. The Saxons, slightly armed, feel all the force, The fiery onset, of the Norman horse, And on their ranks the deadly arrows beat; Yet still they give no signs of base defeat, — Maintain the fight with lance, and sword, and axe. Hold well their ground, keep off their foes' attacks. The fight grows hot, no scanty numbers fall. The Saxon nobles suffer most of all : For they have all at stake, their homes are lost, And doomed for plunder, if the Norman host The day should win ; so like a wall they stand. Like heroes fighting for their native land. 228 BAYEUX TAPESTRY. Long was the battle waged that autumn day, Long from their king the Saxons kept at bay Duke William's seasoned troops. But hour by hour Proved their ranks weakened by the Norman power ; At last the cry is raised, " The king is dead ! " Their lines give way, the Saxons' hope is fled. Thus, with the flight, Matilda's labours close; She does not glory over England's woes, Perchance she strove to stay her maidens' grief; Their brothers' deeds are worked in bold relief, But not their abject fall. They fell in fight. So bravely passed the reign of Saxon might. Wouldst thou see more? Then look o'er England's face. See everywhere the sons of Norman race. The proudest in the gorgeous Senate hall, As his first ancestor, would gladly call BAYEUX TAPESTRY. 229 Some servile swineherd in the Conqueror's band, Who ne'er abroad could claim a rood of land. Beneath an abbey fair, Matilda lies ; Still o'er her tomb the holy chants arise. Combined with this, a band of sisters tend The sick in clean and airy wards, and spend Their days in doing good. Thus Conquests cease, Matilda's name is joined with deeds of peace. FATHER RHINE. Father Rhine, thou swiftly flowest, Northwards to the German Sea ; We have part, full well thou knowest, In thy oft-told history. We would give thee cordial greeting, Pilgrims to the father-land ; Whilst we hear thy waves repeating All thy legends, wild and grand. . Thou wert bred 'mid mountains hoary, 'Mid the snowy Alpine chain. Thou has witnessed scenes of glory, Freedom's rise and freedom's reign. FATHER RHINE, 23 1 Now 'mid vine-clad hills thou wendest, Fraught with mystery and song; Now with rapid course thou bendest, Castled crags and rocks among. On thy banks rise stately towers, Minsters old, and cities fair, Hamlets trim, and charmed bowers, We should love to linger there. Fondly Deutschland gathers o'er thee, Loves thee as its father-stream. All thy true-bom sons adore thee. And thy fame their own esteem. German Rhine ! no rude pretenders Ever dared thy flood to claim, Ere in arms, as brave defenders, Rose each man that foe to tame. Onward now thy stream flows foaming, Towards, our little sea-girt isle ; 'Mid the sea thou would be roaming, On our shores to cast a smile. 232 f ATHER RHINE. In our low estate thou brought us Merchants from thy guilds of trade ; Arts and commerce first thou taught us, Great the gift which then thou made. When our troops, with combat wearied, Still maintain a dauntless mien. There the Saxon race is serried. And its steady valour seen. We are wanderers o'er the ocean. Bred beside the stormy main, Ever restless and in motion, Labouring hard with hand and brain. Round the world our ships are threading Every harbour, every sea, And on every land are spreading Branches from the German tree. All our thoughts of country pleasures. Of our mother-home most blessed. And of song our dearest treasures, In thy language are expressed. FATHER RHINE. 233 There are streams with brighter waters, Which the world's renown have earned, There are lands with fairer daughters. Yet to thee our thoughts are turned. We would see thy cities olden Standing as they did of yore, We would hear those memories golden Of the works they wrought once more. And their manners we woftld cherish, Teaching us of simple times ; May they last, and never perish At the beck of other climes. And thy language oft might aid us With its rich and wondrous store. When the leamfed swarm invade us And to strange words give us o'er. Father Rhine! thou binds together All the off-shoots from thy land ; Stretch to us thy friendly tether. Hold us in the German band. 1868, THE ALP. Some love the berg, with its dizzy height And its shining slopes of spotless white ; Some seek the woods with their quiet shade^ Some love to muse in the lonely glade ; Some love the roar of the dashing stream, Or lulled by the oarsman's song to dream. But quickly from these I turn to thee, As the city's toil and heat I flee. On thy green fields there are charms more true Than woodland shade, or than ocean blue. * The original meaning of Alp is a, summer pasture among the mountains. THE ALP. 235 I love to watch whilst thy cattle graze Or wander along thy rugged ways; I love the sound of their merry bells, And the answering calls from distant fells ; I love the sight of thy flowers rare ; I love to drink of thy pure sweet air ; I love thy peaks with their evening glow, 'Mid flaming clouds when the sun sinks low. I love to gaze on thy deep blue sky, And the jewelled host of stars on high. Thou art the place of the right degree, • Neither too low nor too high for me. THE MOUNTAIN INN. Leave the haunts of ease and fashion, Do not in the vale abide, Leave Lucerne and Interlachen, Up and climb the mountain side. There, upon some verdant pasture, Where the snow is ever near, Rests the hostelry for strangers. To whom Alpine scenes are dear. With its wooden walls and rafters. Only for the summer made ; With its homely fare and quarters, Hungry, weary men to aid. THE MOUNTAIN INN. In its salon, snug and cheerful, You a hearty crew will find ; Comrades seeking wild adventures, Strong in limb, and strong in mind. Hardly any but our nation Take their place amid that band, And we soon shall claim the ice-field As a piece of Enghsh land. Winkebied and Tell, we ask you For the rocky mountain peak : Bear of Berne, and Bull of Uri, 'T is your lonely haunts we seek ! Once we were renowned through Europe For our courage in the field; And we bore across the Channel Lance, and bow, and blazoned shield. And we still would show our neighbours We can something dare and do ; So with ropes, and axe, and baton Alpine heights we seek and woo. 237 238 THE MOUISFTAIN INN. Men from Cambridge rich in honours Come to scale the mountain pass ; Dons, and masters, and professsors, Leaving gowns, and schools, and class. Savants, bent to learn each motion In the frame-work of the earth, Whence arise these mighty mountains, Whence the ice-stream takes its birth. Barristers in goodly numbers Flock unto the mountain inn ; Some with names well-known, and others Who have yet their briefs to win. Curates seeking rest from labour. Doctors in pursuit of health, Men from offices and workshops, Careless now of gaining wealth. Rough in dress, though bold in bearing. Is the aspect of the throng ; Much like navvies making pathways The eternal hills among. THE MOUNTAIN INN. 239 Like a troop of boys at play-time, Mingle in each active sport, All for mirth amid, the mountains, Now their highest summits court. And a troop of guides surround them, , Some of them well-known by name : Lauener, and Croz, and Bohren, Christian Aimer, chief in fame. Now the talk grows loud and earnest, How they did some novel feat; How they reached some unknown station, Or with ill-success did meet. How they crossed the dangerous bergschrund. How they leaped the wide crevasse, ■ How the view was hid in thick clouds At the summit of the pass. How they slept within a chalet. And what company were .there ; How the Senner's well-filled cream-bowl Helped to mend their meagre fare. 240 THE MOUNTAIN INN. And the ladies bring their trophies, Proofs that they too love the hills, — Flowers bright with heavenly sunlight, Green fronds fed by trickling rills. Edelweiss, and bluest gentians. Cyclamens from Como's shore; Holly-fern and verdant mosses. Than Jewels these are valued more. And we look into the sketch-book. With the drawing of each scene, Every hill-top, vale and castle. Near to which the tour has been. Come, let 's drink the mountain breezes. O'er the snow-field they have passed ; They cool brain and strengthen sinew. More than e'en the ocean's blast. Come and see the glowing sunset Ere the darkne,ss falls around. See the peaks, now bathed in brightness. Flame like watch-towers o'er the ground. THE MOUNTAIN INN. As the evening closes round us, We will chat o'er English news, How the Whigs have fought for office, Will they keep it, will they lose? — How the Church is stormed on all sides. And before its foes may fall; How Colenso, with his figures, Is the crying sin of all. And we talk of education — How our poor care nought for schools;. Are we then to drive and make them Bow their necks to German rules? And we listen to long stories, Full of sharp and legal wit, How the bar attack and parry. Shield each case with answers fit. And we talk of fives and cricket, And extol each agile feat; And the boat which heads the river, And which never knows defeat. Q 241 242 THE MOUNTAIN INN. Listen to these long discussions, And at home again we seem | We have never crossed the Channel, Switzerland is but a dream. This is England, feet some thousand Far above the ocean-line ; And we say so, though the storm-wind Howls around our fire of pine. Hark ! the jodel from the snow-field Tells us what we gladly hear; Come, receive the men in triumph, Those who 've won a peak are near. But 't is time, to stop our chatter, And to bed, let 's haste away; Some one's heavy boots will rouse us Long before the break of day. A NILE DREAM. Cheerily the north-wind blows, Swelling out our graceful sail ; Cheerily the prospect grows, As our Nile-boat southward goes. Driven by the gentle gale. Low now slopes the burning sun O'er the groves of feathery palm ; Now some leagues' advance is won, And the day's work nearly done, AH prepare for evening's calm. . 244 A NILE DREAM. In a ring, our swarthy crew Wail some ditty of their land ; Clapping hands with cadence true, Whilst the drum is beat anew, By the leader of the band. As we listen, dim clouds seem Right across our path to float; Ancient Eg)rpt from the stream, Phantoms like a lurid dream, Rise in troops around our boat. Greece and Rome both pass away. And far earlier times appear; Through a mystic clime we stray. Gloomy marvels dim the day. Which no recent light can clear. We behold a mighty land. Mistress of the countries near; Everything looms huge and grand. Temples vast before us stand. With strange gods, the source of fear. A NILE DREAM. 245 And we hear a mystic strain Chanted by the priestly choir, Honouring the bestial train, — Beetle, cat, or frog, or crane, — More by far than creatures higher. Whilst the king leads forth to war All his many arm^d bands. Driving fast his chariot car. Horse and foot beneath him far. Like a god, erect he stands. Piercing cries of abject woe Rise along the flowing Nile; Captives, urged by blow on blow, Tasked by a relentless foe, In their labours hard and vile. Then rolls on a block of stone, Movbd by a panting crowd ; Every step we hear them groan, As on them the lash is thrown, Mixed with threats and curses loud. 246 A NILE DREAM. And Ihe negro at his oar Chants aloud some plaintive strain, Of the wilds he hunted o'er, Of the hut, which never more Will his eyes behold again. Lo a mountain, made by man. Needing all the nation's power; With colossal bulk and plan, Rising far above the span Of a flimsy modern tower. Countless throngs upon the mound Toiling, ceaselessly engaged, Multitudes in bondage ground. The whole country's strength, is found Where this giant task is waged. Tyranny, oppression spread Over all the fertile plain. And the labourer hides his head. And the peasant lives in dread Lest he lose his scanty gain. A NILE DREAM. 247 Monument of human pride, Struggle for eternal fame, To be known both far and wide ; That the king, though dead, may bide, And on earth may leave his name ! As the mountain grows apace, It is linkbd with his doom ; In its sides the resting-place, Where, within a little space, Will be formed the royal tomb. Never work of man so great On this earth has placed its seal; Striving for eternal state. Warring 'gainst that common fate, At whose voice e'en kings must kneel. As we watch, dim grows the scene ; With these men we have no tie. Nought their rites to us have been. We know little what they mean. And vast gulfs between us lie. 248 A NILE DREAM. Soon again the haze is clear, We are back 'mid real things; Dusky negroes now appear, Arabic the tongue we hear, In the song the boatman sings. By the bank our course we stay For the watches of the night, And the glorious moon-beams play O'er the stream, with silver ray Casting wide their flood of light. THE DESERT. Plains of sand extend around us, Void of life, and wild, and bare ; Solitary wastes confound us, Glowing with' a heated glare. Not a trace of verdure brightens That sad, melancholy way; Not a gleam the prospect lightens. To induce us to delay. Not a drop of water seemeth 'Mid the drifting sands to run ; Not a tree or thicket gleameth, To ward off the blazing sun. 2 So THE DESERT. Peopled thinly as the ocean, Rarely any man in view; Passing then with stealthy motion As for deeds of hostile hue. Onwards are our camels striding Patiently with footsteps slow; In the wilderness abiding, Pictures of most utter woe. A slight tent is now our dwelling. Such as served in times of yore ; And the scenes around are swelling With the types of holy lore. Now by day the sun bums brightly, Scorching like a furnace-blast; Cold and clear the moon shines nightly, Solemn shades by it are cast. And the starry host shine o'er us, Like a gladsome, glittering throng ; We may think we hear the chorus Of their heavenly mystic song. THE DESERT. 251 Other lands know not that splendour, Cleaving through the deep blue sky; And the thought to us they tender That the angels' homes are nigh. 'Mid these wastes and regions lonely Has Mahomet's banner waved, Once maintained by wild tribes only, Who the might of empires braved. Like a whirlwind, blasting, blighting, Rushed they on the wondering world; In a hundred countries fighting. Which in bondage soon were hurled. O'er their ranks the crescent gleamfed. Symbol of their star-lit home ; And their arts o'er Europe streamed, Learnt beneath the heavenly dome. Through these wilds the patriarchs wandered, Here they spent their live-long days ; Here they thought, and strove, and pondered, On the faith which o'er us sways. 252 THE DESERT. Here have men believed, and fought for Things unseen by mortal eye; And with earnest faith have sought for Fairer worlds beyond the sky. Burnt at noontide, hard their living, Fashioned of an iron mould ; By their life the slothful giving Proof they felt the truths they told. Ay the desert waste oft beareth -Those who dare themselves to spend; And in loneliness prepareth Men to work some mighty end. Without change our course progresses Daily o'er this sandy plain ; Till at length a palm-grove blesses With its shade our eyes again. Fresh and cool as early morning, Gleam those trees amid the sand ; Like bright gems the waste adorning, Seem they to our wandering band. SABBATH BELLS. Hark, the sound of Sabbath bells, Listen to the tale it tells; Whilst responsive to the strain, Trooping through the fields a train, Young and old, and grave and gay, Seek to keep God's holy day; And within the house of prayer Rest awhile from earthly care. Leave the meadows and the grove. And to cities let us rove, To the minster old and dim, Ringing with the solemn hymn; 254 SABBATH BELLS. Whilst throughout its massive pile, Fretted choir and vaulted aisle, Choral symphonies arise. Float o'er earth, then seek the skies ; Or the church completely filled. Every breath and murmur stilled, As the preacher's words sound clear. That to all a Heaven is near. Or upon the rolling sea. Sails all set right gallantly. Ships with crowded decks are found. To some southern harbour bound, Bearing far o'er ocean's foam Those who seek another home. Sabbath brings its thoughts once more, We all seek a distant shore; Pilgrims all on life's rough way. On the earth, where'er we stray. Lonely is the settler's lot. Sabbath chimes he heareth not; SABBATH BELLS. And, across the trackless waste, Many a weary league must haste, Ere a wooden church appears. And its form his spirit cheers. Now within the tropic line. Rests on high the holy sign. Raised by those of swarthy skin. Showing men are near of kin, Trusting in the written word, Seeking Heaven's eternal Lord. Or some church, of coral made, NestUng 'mid the wooded glade ; And the groves of waving palm Echo with the Sabbath psalm. Resting at its moorings fast, Flag aloft on highest mast, Lies the floating church all trim, And to it the ships' boats skim, Pilled with tars in Sunday dress, Staying for a while to bless. 255 256 SABBATH BELLS. That there is a land of peace, Wliere the storms of life will cease.* Now we speed to India's strand, In spme camp a little band, Gathered in a lowly tent, On the church's prayers intent; Though no spire with Sabbath bell Sounds abroad its solemn knell. Still that spot is hallowed ground •When the day of rest comes round. They are placed 'mid heathen throngs. And they raise their Christian songs, f Or on Afric's desert drear A few worshippers appear; Some, perhaps, of negro race Come unto the holy place. * The floating church in the Harbour of Port Louis is chiefly alluded to. t See Sir Herbert Edwardes' "Year on the Punjab , Frontier,'' vol. i. pages 252-5. SABBATH BELLS. 257 They in bondage hard were bred, Now a brighter Kght has shed ; E'en amid that region wild They may find a Saviour mild. Now within some foreign inn, Ere the week-day tasks begin. Some have met, again to raise Those glad words of prayer and praise. E'en before the week be past, Dangers may around be cast, By the torrent foaming white, Or the dizzy mountain height. Or, amid some far-off land, Weekly meets a little band Laying claim to England's shore, Where their fathers dwelt before. Thus the church may form a tie With all England's family. Let us cross the seas again, To the western- Spanish main. 258 SABBATH BELLS. Where our distant brethren dwell, Far from sound of village bell ; Where the Pampas waste is nigh, Or the Andes cleaves the sky. Still we see the self-same sights, Sabbath prayers and holy rites'; Whilst the psalms of David ring, And the holy chants they sing. Northward, northward let us go, To the land where v^inter's snow Binds the landscape firm and fast, Like a mantle o'er it cast. Ring the bells through frosty air, Groups of worshippers appear ; Some in rapid sledges glide O'er the champaign, smooth and wide, And their tinkling sleigh-bells vie With the chime which peals on high ; Or at night, through forests drear, When the silver moon shines clear. SABBATH BELLS. 259 And far off is heard to swell Mellow sounds of vesper bell. Further northward still we stray, Where the Arctic night holds sway, Where the sun for long has fled, Where the chilly moon-beams spread. See our men fast bound by frost, Home, perhaps, for ever lost ; Yet they look, without affray. Trusting still in Heavenly stay ; And their hearts the Sabbaths cheer. Bringing thoughts that God is near. Thus it is, where'er we go, Sabbath bells one story show ; As the chime for worship rings, Memories bright to us it brings ; As it upward seeks the skies. Future hopes before us rise — 26o SABBATH BELLS. Of those joys .ijvhich all may share, Of that land which knows no care, Of that time when strife must cease, Of that home where all is peace. Chime, ye bells, a louder strain. Send it forth again, again ; Let it sound where'er we dwell, Let each homestead hear that bell, Let its message echo clear, Calling all, both far and near; Loudly ring thy hallowed spell, Holy, happy Sabbath bell. LIVERPOOr- : — D. MARPLKS, LORD STREET- '-':' ■■If: )i 'J HtJ'f;