Ll ■ a f>»mtmm PRESENTATION COPY 896. WADE (Thomas). Mundi et Cordis: De Rebus Sempiternis et Tern Carmina. Poems and Sonnets. 8vo, boards, uncut. London : John Miller, 1835. Wordsworth's copy from the author. With inscription, "William Wordsworth Esq with the innermost heart-respects/' and autograph in Wordsworth's handwriting, "Wm Wordsworth, Rydal ] Leigh Hunt says of this writer: "He is a poet; he is over-flowing with fancy and sensibility without the finest subtleties of imagination." I r20 v. THE FROZEN COAST. 1829, 1830. 1. The winter-wild Seas have laid bare the shore, And shingle and sand from its stony floor Swept, and left naked a desert of rocks That was buried in pebbly depths before ; And the spray of the waves on their massy blocks — Of a thousand uncouth and fantastic forms, The offspring misshapen of billows and storms — Lies frozen, and white as an old man's hair : Some are huddled and clad, others lonely and bare; And from the weeds on the adamant crowd, Thick, withered and starch'd, By the keen winds parch'd, The icicles hang their white frost-woven locks, Which shell-fish and creatures scarce animate shroud. Where the waves have receded that blent with the rills Which rlow'd o'er the beach to the sea from the hills 21 And kiss'd them with freshness, of shingle-pierced ice Lie glittering curves ; and the unmoving snow Streaks the cliffs above and the beach below And enwreathes the far hills with a varied device ; And smooth frozen sea-weeds are scatter'd around, Which, suddenly struck, gleam with stars at the wound 2. A river, the far-pour'd oblation Of mountain-streamings, in their congregation, Beneath a veil of ice transparent, Through which its crystal clear apparent Gleams like love through chastity, Flows along the dreary sand ; Till, breaking from its icy shade, 'Twixt ice-banks, from its waters made, It trickles coldly to the sea That foams upon the frozen strand. 3. On the vast cliffs that heavenward climb, Which on their brows wear storm-recorded Time, The frost hath wrought a work sublime ! The manifold descending fountains Of these cleft and concave mountains 22 Are veil'd within their icy cells, Portculliced by vast icicles, That, dagger-like, in each rocky jag, Hang threateningly from crag to crag ; And where'er a curving roof Beetles far into the air, There is woven a glorious woof Of ice-threads o'er the ceiling bare ; Whilst broader streamlets here and there From the cliff's summit to its base Lie bright and still in frozen ripples, Where the faint sunbeams, coldly nurst, Draw slow drops from those icy nipples, Which, chained by the frost in their downward chase. Seem struggling in vain to leap forth as at first — A charm on my eyes hath burst ! A waterfall bold, In many a fold From steep to steep wide sweeping, Till, perpendicularly leaping, It sprang to the rocky beach, In vain hath strived to reach — For the frozen airs, around it creeping, In massy ice-bonds clasp it, sleeping, And there it lives, unheard, but dread, Like a mighty spirit dead ! 2:3 VI. THE WINTER SHORE. JANUARY, 1830. A mighty change it is, and ominous Of mightier, sleeping in Eternity. The bare cliffs seem half-sinking in the sand, Heaved high by winter seas ; and their white crowns, Struck by the whirlwinds, shed their hair-like snow Upon the desolate air. Sullen and black, Their huge backs rearing far along the waves, The rocks lie barrenly, which there have lain, Reveal'd, or hidden, from immemorial time ; And o'er them hangs a sea- weed drapery, Like some old Triton's hair, beneath which lurk- Myriads of crowned shell-fish, things whose life, Like a cellVl hermit's, seemeth profitless. Vast slimy masses harden'd into stone Rise smoothly from the surface of the Deep, Each with a hundred thousand fairy cells Perforate, like a honeycomb, and, cup-like, Fill'd with the sea's salt crystal — the soft beds 24 Once of so many pebbles, thence divorced By the continual waters, as they grew Slowly to rock. The bleak shore is o'erspread With sea-weeds green and sere, curl'd and dishevell'd, As they were mermaids 7 tresses, wildly torn For some sea-sorrow. The small mountain-stream, Swoln to a river, laves the quivering beach, And flows in many channels to the sea Between high shingly banks, that shake for ever. The solitary sea-bird, like a spirit, Balanced in air upon his crescent wings, Hangs floating in the winds, as he were lord Of the drear vastness round him, and alone Natured for such dominion. Spring and Summer And stored Autumn, of their liveries Here is no vestige : Winter, tempest-robed, In gloomy grandeur o'er the hills and seas Reigneth omnipotent. 25 VII. " SOLVITUR ACRIS HYEMS." 1. The Winter's fled ; He's charmed away : The Earth, that dead And frozen lay But yesterday, Hath burst her grave : The glorious wave Foams richly in the Sun : The Winter's reign is done ! 2. The sea-birds lave their wings For joy in the bright ocean ; The hill-descended springs Resume their bounding motion ; The ice and snow have vanish'd ; The freezing winds are banishM : And the mild airs come To their sunny home ; 26 And along the mountainous earth Its green robe starts to birth ; And by joyous thousands forth The glad birds chirping roam ! 3. Toward us the infant Spring Is on her cherub wing ; And on the sea and land The hearts of men expand, And open to the God Who o'er their drear abode Doth breathe this renovating spirit, Which skies and air and earth and all that live inherit ! 27 VIII. "GOLDEN CA P."* 1ST FEBRUARY, 1830. 1. I tread the bare crown of this regal hill, And gaze around : The frost hath hung rich jewels by the rill, And o ? er the fall Of every brook and fountain small ; Along the ground The vestal snow is warmly spread, Kiss'd by the blaze of glory overhead. 2. The smooth wave curves up On the shelving shore, Till the mighty cup Seems brimming o'er ! The blue sea from the azure-palaced sun A golden zone of rippling fire hath won, * Dorsetshire- 28 Through which a skiff is flying, And earthly meteor, vying With one of heaven : The clouds in heaven as heaven are clear, And in the horizon doth appear, Of texture even, A silvery mist, that nothing veils The glory of the atmosphere — Yet the light-feather^ snow is flying on the gales ! 3. Pale, in the pale blue sky, High o'er the snow-robed hills, Hangs the hemisphered moon ; Wan as a maid with maiden ills : But she shall be no vestal soon ; But on the bed of night, voluptuously Fill'd with the sun's embrace, rejoicing lie. 4. The splendour of the Universe is round me : I am transnVd ; But my animate soul Is pervading the whole, Far intermix'd — And love, sin, grief, nor death hath power to wound me ! 9Q IX. A NIGHT AMID THE SEA-WARD HILLS 1. The brow of Heaven wears No frown, nor storm-cleft wrinkle; The fountain's gentle tears Amid the silence tinkle ; The lake it formeth in the meadow Is kiss'd by many a trembling shadow Of flower and blade ; Reflected stars, its depths amid, Gaze heavenward as with furtive lid, And by the moon a pyramid Of light is made. 2. The water-fowl supine Crowd close, with hidden bills ; The ruminating kine Move not upon the hills ; Moths on the warm air dimly flit, And insects in a slumb'rous fit 30 Stir all the leaves ; One bird, amid the hazel fluttering, A sleepy cry of fear is uttering; And the scarce-audible sea, low-muttering, A dull sound weaves. 3. The fishermen's old boats, Like shore-cast things asleep — And nets, with shapeless floats, Lie on the shingle deep : Amid them, one rough sentinel Strides as a lynx within his cell, Still to and fro, Tracking a smuggler's veering skirl* In the dim distance fugitive ; The sere grass stirs upon the cliff, With motion slow. 4. The Ocean's foamless lip Scarce breathes upon the beach ; The Moon and Hesper clip Its depths with amorous pleach, Beaming their love from south and west Over its mutely-panting breast, 31 In paleness splendid ; And by the gush and crisp retreat Of its calm swell, their reflex fleet Is curved from my advancing feet, Or dim-extended. 5. The gathered constellations The infinite blue bestud, Whose twinkling coruscations Cleave its ethereal flood, And yield the deep pale influence, Dim-scrutable to striving sense, Of shade and light : Murmurs pervade the concave hills, From echoed sounds and trickling rills ; And over all, the Night distils A dew-shower bright. 6. A solitude sublime Breathes on my breathless heart, And thoughts of death and time Into its depths depart : Immortal dreams above them gushing, My soul in all my veins is blushing 32 With love divine — - Spirit ! from me let not this symbol'd story Of thine immensity pass transitory; Let me not lose of thine in-hidden glory This outward, visible sign ! 33 x. SYMPATHY. There's music on the earth : the moon and her attendant Partake the lofty solitude of Heaven. Why should they seem more lovely to the sight For that low melody ? By the sweet strain, Which falls upon the soul and melts the soul, Tis tempered to their beauty : 'tis the mind Which lends the happier influence it receives From things external, and takes back its own Even as a boon. A sympathy is on me : I deem those fair lights mortal ; there 's a death Looks through their glory : feeling they may perish, I love them more ; and my mortality Shakes off its grosser weight, self-reconciled By such high partnership. D 34 XI. NYMPHS. 1. Beautiful Things of Old ! why are ye gone for ever Out of the earth? Oh! why? Dryad and Oread, and ye, Nereids blue ! Whose presence woods and hills and sea-rocks knew — YeVe pass'd from Faith's dim eye, And, save by poet's lip, your names are honour'd never. 2. The sun on the calm sea sheddeth a golden glory, The rippling waves break whitely, The sands are level and the shingle bright, The green cliffs wear the pomp of Heaven's light, And sea-weeds idle lightly Over the rocks ; but ye appear not, Dreams of Story ! 3. Nymphs of the Sea ! Faith's heart hath fled from ye, hath fled; Ye are her boasted scorn ; 35 Save to the poet's soul, the sculptor's thought, The painter's fancy, ye are now as nought : Mute is old Triton's horn, And with it half the voice of the Old World is dead. 4. Our creeds are not less vain ; our sleeping life still dreams ; The present, like the past, Passes in joy and sorrow, love and shame ; Truth dwells as deep ; wisdom is yet a name ; Life still to death flies fast, And the same shrouded light from the dark future gleams. 5. Spirits of vale and hill, of river and of ocean — Ye thousand deities ! Over the earth be president again ; And dance upon the mountain and the main, In view of mortal eyes : Love us, and be beloved, with the Old Time's devotion ! d 2 Q 6 XII. TO A WATER-DROP. 1. Atom of the sustaining element Which of the old earth is the sap and blood, That dwell'st apart From that vast heart Of which thou art one life-drop, to the mood Of thought thy narrow sphere lends spacious argument ! 2. This is thy voice : — " I am the globed dew Which trickles from the locks of twilight grey, When the earth falls asleep, and when anew She wakens, blushing with a dream of day, And the love-stricken star of the pale morning- Swoons in Aurora's eyelids ; till the grass, Foliage and flowers are peaiTd with my adorning, And not a leaf but drinks me as I pass. 37 3. " I am the tears that gush from human eyes, Even figured as themselves and glassy-sphered — ■ A sweeter dew let fall from clearer skies ; And on the flower o' the cheek I hang endear'd : I am the eyes, with air and fire enwove, In triple glory ; and I am the light Which moistly lies upon the lips of love, When love to liquid kisses they invite. 4. u 1 am the rain which clouded heaven weepeth ; In the rebounding hail I dance congeal'd ; In the still snow which, mute as shadows, sweepeth Over the earth, I am by warmth revealed ; And in the hoar frost is my gem secreted — Soft-frozen dew; and from the icicle I come at the sun's call — on bare bough greeted, Or far amid the rocks in cavern'd cell . 5. u I form the clouds and mists : the setting sun Doth glorify me in the golden west, The moon in silver cloud and halo dun, And planets in their circlets of dim mist. 38 Without me were not the electric fire, Thunder, wind, meteor, nor bright exhalation ; And through me the ethereal beams transpire Which weave the rainbow's sevenfold coruscation. 6. " I form the secret springs that feed the earth — The gushing brook, swift rill and leaping fountain, River and lake and waterfall ; and mirth Bounds with my music adown many a mountain ; And when the Winter with his cold hand chains The fluent freedom which in me abided, Ye may behold me fix'd in crystal plains — And o'er me glide, swiftly as I have glided. 7. " I am the seed whence grew the unfathonvd ocean, Boundless, and crested with a foaming glory ! I form the billows whose eternal motion Shakes the strong rock and fells the mountain hoary : Without me the wide earth were desolate, Its sweets corruption and its verdure sere ; And splendour waits upon my flowing state, Or in the curving wave, or orbed tear !" 39 8. Atom of the earth -filling element ! I cast thee now into thy kindred sea : Lo ! thou art mingled — As spirit singled From Nature's soul, awhile in us to be, Is given to the Great Vast, and with its Depths reblent, 40 XIII. TO A NEW-FALLEN LAMB. 1. Awearied with thy struggle into light, Thou liest exhausted on the dewy grass ; Whilst o'er thee stands thy dam, in bold affright At every footstep which doth near thee pass : Pain, fear and joy and love are in her eyes, And all a living heart's pure mysteries. 2. But thou, unconscious and regardless lying On the damp sod ; too new inhabitant Of this great scene of quickening and of dying To know or fear or joy ; clothed in thy scant And rugged fleece, which the cold winds of morning Un pitying strike, dost stir not at her warning. 3. O, for the power to look into the spirit Which, as thy senses from without receive The knowledge of their being, shall inherit Thine infant brain ; and in its foldings weave 41 The intricate forms and sounds, perfumes and hues, Which the great Universe must there infuse ! 4. Even in the contemplation of a lamb, All that is vast and brief, blessing and curse, In life and life's, drives thought into a flame Whose bright spires in the blue-domed Universe, Beyond the spheres, are hidden ! Yet are we, Weak wretch ! but things of breath and blood like thee 5. Nor do I know that this so boasted air Of immortality we bear within Is privilege : thou dost not know despair, Though ignorant of hope ; nor crime, nor sin, Though with no self- wrought virtue ; and no fear, Although no faith, doth to thy dream appear. 6. Or come there thoughts of life to that dark brain ; Or thy life's spirit be as senseless water, Which, all reflecting, yet doth nought contain Of that reflected ; even from birth to slaughter, But for some hopes and terrors which are mine, What difference 'twixt my mortal lot and thine I 42 XIV. THE COPSE. TO ALPHONSE DE LAMARTINE. 1. Nor step, nor speech of human thing is near ; But many-winged creatures, round me flying, Make the incessant airs one voice appear From Being's infinite heart ! Upon the dying Trunk of this mossy fruit-tree, old and sere, And half-uprooted, toward the green slope lying, Will I recline; and fold me in a trance Of meditation with the bard of France. 2. Away ! thou art too wild for this calm dell ; Anon, I'll ponder with thee by the foam. A bridal music, not a burial knell, Must echo here : within this leafy dome Soft-gushing melodies high o'er me swell From two enamour T d birds, to shadow come To bless each other with a summer song, Whilst yet the earth is green and daylight long. 4:) 3. O, god Apollo ! there be million pleasures Which thine eternal lyre can ne'er express That warble in these winged poets' measures, Full flowing from their little hearts' excess ! I know not what may be the rhymed treasures That have been lost in old Time's wilderness ; But well I weet that never human lips Breath'd love to love with sweeter soul-eclipse ! 4. They chant, till their own exquisite melodies Extrance them into silence, and they flit Mutely among the leaves : the gleaming flies, Whose wings are rainbows, as with ether lit, Around me wheel with stirring harmonies That ne'er from dawn to twilight intermit ; And deep in yon green cave a veiled stream Murmurs like thoughts of Heaven in a dream. 5. Alphonse de Lamartine ! Come hither, hither — Furling thy sullen spirit's eagle pinion, As mine is furl'd ; and let us weave together A sunny song of panting Love's dominion Over the Universe ! let us wear ether Unclouded in our hearts, leaving the minion 44 Of common life lo strive with common sorrow, And with our lyres assert the joy of Heaven's morrow ! 6. " I am here ! but not rejoicing With thine idle gladness ; From the music round us voicing I but gather sadness : Thou sittest on a tree uprooted, Which shall no more be leav'd or fruited ; Those minstrel birds, the bird of prey, Or winter and its want, shall slay ; Those insects are each other's slaughter ; And the sweet music of the water, Yon emerald cavern's mystic river, The falling earth strikes dumb for ever." 7. I would reply ; bat— hark to that pure strain ! — Those wiser bards sing in the boughs again ! 45 xv. THE N E S T. In a sun-excluding thicket — Laurel, fir, arbutus, rose — Where the cherup of the cricket Rang at night and even-close ; And at early morn and noon Piped the chaffinch joyously — To his mate each song a boon Dear as human poesy Unto human thought — as far In its green elysium hidden As in purple clouds a star, In love's heart a wish forbidden — Hung the litle woven nest Of some teeming warbler's rest : Based upon two laurel sprays — Emerald moss for its foundation ; Hair, enwreathed in subtle ways, And, above, the implication Of white wool and bosom-feather, Matted in a round together : 46 Fibres fine and finer hair Lined the winged creature's lair ; Laurels were its tapestry ; Roses strew'd their leaves beneath ; Storms broke o'er it harmlessly ; And the summer's perfumed breath Round it crept in warmth and balm ; And the morn and even calm, Gliding its green curtains through, Hung them all with silver dew ! 47 XVI. M I N D. 1. What is thy emblem. Mind ? The earth — now wearing on its forehead young Unopen'd leaf-buds, and a few pale flowers ; Now with the summer's green and blossom hung, And lavishing warm love on all the hours ; Now with its myriad globes of rich ripe fruit, And its arboreous leaf-work, million-hued ; Now cold in winter's winding-sheet and mute — But its deep heart with brooding life imbued : Its early flowers and bursting buds Struck by chill winds and cloud-rained floods ; Its summer mantle rent and sodden, By all the elements down-trodden ; Its golden fruit and foliage scatter'd, And its dead limbs oppressed and shatter 'd By the strong wings of wind and storm, And frozen in its heart-depths warm ! 48 2. What should be thy emblem, Mind ? The weltering ocean, Jn calm or commotion — Now with heaven's own hue On its bosom blue ; Gentle and slow, with lustrous shadows Of clouds thin-woven, By light airs cloven, And studs of light o'er its azure meadows : Now dark and still As intents of ill, And a mighty mirror For every terror — And inly-folded, like resolved will : Now rolling and foaming In thunder and fire, Like the turbulent coming Of rending desire : Now vailing to midnight its quivering crest ; Wearing starbeams and moonlight in love on its breast, 3. What is thy meet emblem, Mind ? The holy beauty of the sky. Dim shroud of that vast Deitv 49 To whose veil'd ray all rays we see Are cloud ; with all the spirits that roam Beneath its ether- woven dome : The sun, whose space-enfolding flight Steeps the inebriate earth in light ; The unresting moon, the love-beloved ; The planets and pale constellations ; The cloud-stars, where the soul, reproved, Dreams of immensity, and quivers ; And ever-changing clouds, that flee Before the wild wind's inspirations, Like oceans dark and gleaming rivers, And in tempestuous exhalations Work change eternal o'er the earth and sea. 4. As heaven upon the deep descendeth, God — or whate'er that spirit's name Whose torch lit up the undying flame That lampeth in the eyes of space — Falls on the mind : As light and wind Blend on the many-colour'd ocean's face, So with our common thought that spirit blendeth 50 As the sea shakes the earth With every billow's birth, The mind with all its strife Shatters the nerves of life ! 51 XVII. REALITY. 1. Reality's slave From the womb to the grave, Awake ! awake ! awake ! Wouldst thou nothing but feed And sleep at thy need ? Awake ! for thy soul's sake. Art thou not a spirit Ordain'd to inherit The universe for ever ? And from birth wilt thou creep To thy worm-tended sleep, And from thy clay pass never ? The past, the to-come Inform and illume Thy present path, pale sleeper ! e 2 5*2 But thine apathy dull Makes thy life-cloud more full, And thy soul's shadow deeper. 4. From Reality's trance Thy spirit advance ! Be dreaming ! dreaming ! dreaming ! Let thy thought's rapid wave Far, far o'er the grave Be streaming ! streaming ! streaming ! 53 XVIII. DELIGHTS. 1. Rock'd on the salt deep Into a sunny sleep, And a dream sublime Of the flow of Time, Whose billows without number Bear all things in a slumber Into Eternity, As we Over the glowing sea Are wafted sleepingly : 2. Pillow'd, with leaves and stars above us, Upon hearts that love us ; Clasp'd and folden In arms and eyes, Till from full-cupp'd pleasure's brink Into a trance we sink, 54 With visions golden Peopling the shadow of our ecstasies — Redeeming sleep from death, And doubling every joy that perisheth : 3. Upon an oaken bough In the fierce wind swinging, Shouting to earth below, To the clouds on high And the birds that round us fly Rejoicingly, Words of a clear-tongued poet's singing, Lofty flights of madness winging : These are delights divine — They have been mine. 55 XIX. BIRDS AND THOUGHTS 1. Oh ! I am weary Of this being dreary : Sweet birds ! Sweet birds ! The winter is around ye ; And ice and snow Wrap all below ; Above, the air Is cold, and bare Each bough, And the frozen breezes wound ye ; That wherever ye fly, On the earth, or on high, Ye find no rest, Nor food, nor nest, Sweet birds ! Sweet birds ! 56 2. Oh ! I am weary Of this being dreary : Sweet birds ! Sweet birds ! Our thoughts like ye must ever In this cold world With wings half furled Make voyage bare, Till by despair They're whirled Around, and peace find never ; And, sinking or soaring, Earth or heaven exploring, They still must flee Joyless like ye, Sweet birds ! Sweet birds ! 3. Oh ! I am weary Of this being dreary : Sweet birds ! Sweet birds ! Ye must wait till the spring unfoldeth The sun and earth ; And then in mirth 57 Ye may rejoice, And with clear voice Her birth Chant to the sphere which her beauty holdeth And our thoughts must await The great life beyond fate, To soar and sing, Like ye in spring, Sweet birds ! Sweet birds ! 58 XX. " U S. " l. For ever, for ever, The gathering river Of human life flows on : We leave but a trace On the current's face, And that is lost anon. 2. Our laughter and tears, Our hopes and our fears, Our spirit and our form, Like mist disappear Which silent streams wear In summer-twilight warm 59 *j» As a dream in our sleep Is our life in the deep Abyss of space and time. Whose visions most dim and ideal Of a being resplendent and real Are record and prophet sublime- r>o XXI. OUR LIFE. As in a shadowy vision Do we walk the earth, In this brief transition Into death, from birth. 2. We live, or dream — and ponder On all things around us ; Till the gathering wonder Deepens to confound us, 3. In vain we strive to waken, And to feel that all is real ; By that effort wrung and shaken, We relapse to the ideal : 61 Till the sleep of life is past, And its visions are departed ; And we wake in death, at last, To a being clearer-hearted . 62 XXII. PRESENT AND FUTURE, 1. As from a gloomy valley, O'er which clouds are sweeping, Which with each other dally, And end, like love, in weeping ; — Where wind and rain are beating, To shelter birds retreating, And all things living hush'd ; We gaze on hills afar, Where sunbeams glowing are, And life with light is flushed : 2. So from the Present's sorrow, Where sighs and tears prevail, We look toward far to-morrow, And the Future's sunlight hail — Bright as bright hills seen from the valley, Where the rain and cold winds dally, 63 And the clouds are canopy, And unseen one happy bird, And no insect-cherup heard, And leaves and flowers weep mournfully. 3. But when we gain the height Of time call'd future then, We find that joyful light Which there seem'd denizen Is vanished ; and the gloom Which made the earth a tomb Hath with us been travelling : As the clouds to hill from valley With us in our pathway sally And there in gloom are gathering. 4. But still on heights beyond, beyond, The cloud-chased rays are met ; And on we pace, with footsteps fond, In search of sunshine yet — Though still the clouds above us Float onward, to reprove us : 64 So ever are we cheated By the Future's flying light ; Till despair whelms all in night — And the soul drags back, defeated 65 XXIII. THE CURSE OF THOUGHT. 1. Why, why do I pine, When the glories divine Of the sky-painted earth are around me i Oh ! why do I grieve, When so many hearts weave About me their meshes of kindness ? Why to me is all vision but blindness ? Oh ! why doth the balm Of retirement and calm Not heal, as 'tis wont; but still deeplier wound me ? 'Tis the demon within, More of doubt, than of sin, That racks my gall'd spirit with brooding dismay ! I think on the past — 'Tis gone like the blast, F 66 That dies, but leaves shipwreck and terror behind The present is blank as the eye that is blind ; And the future's a dream That all shadow doth seem — A fathomless deep, without haven or bay ! 67 XXIV. DESPAIR. Th e wave-roar of the thunder, Beating the shore of heaven ; The piled rocks asunder By earthquakes widely riven ; Wild beasts in midnight motion ; Whirlwinds, and torrents showering ; The tern pest- voice of ocean ; Volcanoes, lava-pouring : Great armies, mad-ambitious, In smoke and blood contending ; Huge multitudes seditious The air with tumult rending : These things peace and silence are To a mighty heart's despair ! f 2 68 XXV. FAREWELL TO MORTAL LIFE 1. Breath, impregnate with a dream — As the cloud with a sun-beam , Ere descends the tempest-stream — Farewell ! Thing of shadows ; thing of fears ; Floweret drench 'd by torrent- tears ; Splendour which a foam-wreath wears — Farewell ! 2. Web upon a whirling gale ; Murmur in a desert vale From a wretch whose cold limbs fail In snow ; Flutter of an insect's wing, Gasping in another's sting ; Spray of an in-veiled spring- Art thou. 69 3. Whence thou flowest, where thou tendest, Why we love thee whilst thou rendest, In what fearful depths thou endest, None weet : Leaping from the limbs of pleasure, With all pains is thy deep measure. From thy birth to thine erasure, Replete. 4. From an atom dost thou rise Into framed harmonies, And high thoughts that walk the skies Sublime ; Till thy weary lamp outburneth, And to nought its light returneth : Dust is all thy marvel earneth From Time. 5. Though we salve and though we preach, We nor medicine, nor teach : Thy charms lurk beyond our reach, Strange spell ! 70 Thou, nor thine were of my choosing, And thy loss is nothing losing : From my frame uninterfusing — Farewell ! 71 XXVI. CORFE CASTLE RUINS. 1. In sunny beauty 's self-diffused light, That beam'd to shame the cheat of Athelwold, She moves before me — Lo ! the spiritual might Of vision is upon me : I behold The bleeding c Martyr 7 spur his horse to speed, And the queen smiling at the mother's deed ! 2. IVe trod the very stair Elfrida trod, And seen the summer-clouds roof fleetingly The towers of her inheritance ! Ay, strode Above the walls where monarchs feasted high, Sweet women sinn'd, and dnngeon'd victims groan'd, And vassals revell'd whilst their masters moan'd ! 3. Nettles and thorns and ivy overspread The high places of the tyrants of old days ; And o'er their weed-choked hearths is idly read The little name of each dull thing that strays 72 From his poor pigmy hovel, to crush'd towers, Where the past's shadow clasps and overpowers 4. The substance of the present. Some few flowers Amid these silent ruins breathe and smile ; And birds and insects frame their brooding bowers In the cleft walls — as if to reconcile The eternal enmity of birth and death, Ashes with blood, and airless dust with breath. 5. The fulness and the vacancy of being, Reality and vision, truth and fable Alternately with blindness and with seeing Endue my pausing spirit ; and, unstable, Yield mingled visitings of faith and doubt: Pale adumbrations of this wreck without Come to the chaos within— I darkly dream, Lull'd by the unseen flow of my mind's cavern'd stream 73 XXVII. THE " BELVIDERA" OF FANNY KEMBLE 1. I oft had dream'd of mighty agonies, Rending the heart with tempests of the mind; Painting bare death npon the cheek, and filling With some few tears of fire the maniac eyes : Till such imaginations, fiercely thrilling The electric soul within me, had entwined Their shadows in one form — dark elements combined ! 2, But vague and indistinct the gathered vision : Medea, in her babes' blood all disguised ; Cassandra, uttering the wild woes of Troy ; Or Dido, wailing in that dire transition To desolation from o'erwhelming joy ; Or Constance, throned on earth and agonized — But now my dark dream lives, in terror realized ! 74 XXVIII. THE NET-BRAIDERS. 1. Within a low-thatched hut, built in a lane, Whose narrow pathway tendeth toward the ocean— A solitude, which, save of some rude swain Or fisherman, doth scarce know human motion ; Or of some silent poet, to the main Straying, to offer infinite devotion To God, in the free universe — there dwelt Two women old, to whom small store was dealt 2. Of the world's mis-named good ; mother and child, Both aged and mateless. These two life sustain'd By braiding fishing-nets ; and so beguiled Time and their cares, and little e'er complain'd Of Fate or Providence : resign'd and mild., . Whilst day by day, for years, their hour-glass rain'd Its trickling sand, to track the wing of time, < They toil'd in peace; and much there was sublime 75 3. In their obscure contentment : of mankind They little knew, or reck'd ; but for their being They blest their Maker, with a simple mind ; And in the constant gaze of his all-seeing Eye, to his poorest creatures never blind, Deeming they dwelt, they bore their sorrows fleeing, Glad still to live, but not afraid to die, In calm expectance of Eternity. 4. And since I first did greet those braiders poor, If ever I behold fair women's cheeks Sin-pale in stately mansions, where the door Is shut to all but pride, my cleft heart seeks For refuge in my thoughts, which then explore That pathway lone near which the wild sea breaks, And to Imagination's humble eyes That hut, with all its want, is Paradise ! 76 XXIX. TO THE BIRD'S-EYE FLOWER 1. Thy beauty seems wrought of bright dew That fell from the rainbow's blue In rich drops azure and pearly ; And the lark, from beside thee upspringing, Wild love of thy sweet eye seems singing, As he mounts to the white clouds curly. 2. Thou openest thy gaze to the morn, Whose kiss on thine eye-lid is worn, Whence it presseth a tear of splendour And a bride, on her rich bed dreaming Of the love in her blue veins streaming, Wakes not with a glance more tender. 77 3. Beautiful being ! love-star of the flowers ! Birth-mate of the daisy in primrose hours ! Blue gem of the emerald meadow ! Not more sweetly the lone poet sleepeth O'er the eloquent thought which he weepeth, Than thou o'er thy moonlight shadow. 78 XXX. TO THE BIRD'S-EYE FLOWER HYMN THE SECOND. Thou look'st on my Verse, dear Flower ! And my brain draws a finer power From thy blue and tranquil eye : Not the love on my Lady's lid, As she broods o'er a joy heart-hid, Fills my soul with a dreamy sigh More lusciously ! The daisy, the glow-worm and lark, In blossom, in light and in song, And dews from the rainbow's arc, Be with thee thy sweet life long ! 79 XXXI. TO A BUTTERFLY AT SEA 1. Slight thing of sunny hours ! Upon the cups of flowers Folding thy wings in pleasure ; In perfume and mild airs Fulfilling thy sweet cares, At bright and balmy leisure ! 2. What do thy pinions weary Upon the ocean dreary, Where their light state must perish ? Upon the summer-meads, Where air on incense feeds, Thou hadst enough to cherish. 3. Here, by the strong wind driven, Ere long thou shalt have striven, Thy grave will be the billow ; 80 And thoughts of the green home, Whence thou wouldst idly roam, Shall come to thy death-pillow. 4. So Beauty's life is spent On love's fierce element — Her wing'd hopes fail; she dies So the pale Poet's dream Faints in the waste extreme Of life's realities. 81 XXXII. THE BIRD. 1. Cold rain hath fallen through the kindless spring, Sweet bird of song ! Thou hast been mute ; with wet and furled wing, Dejected long. 2. Summer at length is warm upon the earth ; And sun and dew Gladden the heart of things ; and thy wild mirth Thrills heaven through. 3. Had the spring worn the aspect of all gladness On her fresh brow, Thou couldst not have been further voiced from sadness, Rich bird ! than now. 82 4. And to have lived to sing to this great morn, So robed in glory ! Cold winds and chilling showers well hast thou borne, Thing transitory ! Let net despair await on gloom and sorrow, Though dark-enduring ; For in the future there is still a morrow High joy assuring. 83 XXXIII. THE GREETING. (a fragment.) 1. My poet-thoughts, that long lay dead, Are re-arisen ; and must be fed With the delight of outward beauty, That they may freshly pay sweet duty To God and skies and flowers and birds, With all the hoarded wealth of words ; And give to Heaven and to Earth Their resurrection, as their birth ! 2. Lo ! every wave of that vast Sea Like a glad thing leaps to me ; Welcoming., each to the other, The advent of their mortal brother; g 2 84 Who hath long been toss'd, as they, On a dim and stormy way ; Now meeting on the self-same shore, To part, and wander as before. 3. The bare boughs greet me with oblations Of dry leaves ; whence contemplations Rise, like ghosts of youth and grace, Met, in winter's gathering-place, With the ancient and the rotten ; All their witchery forgotten : Ghosts, that still our ways condemn ; Till we join decay — and them. 4. Upon the Sea and on the cliff There rests a glory fugitive Of sunbeams, lying like the grace Of bland smiles on a wrinkled face : And on the sailing grey-gull's wing Strange shades the clouds are scattering : 7 Tis now a white speck in the black, And now a stain on the white rack ! 85 5. O ! every thing to things, I ween, The light in which those things are seen ! ****** Now, God be praised for all he gives ! — His creature, that was dead, re-lives. 86 XXXIV. THE DREAM-DANCERS. 1. No human beauty ever from the page Of poet, or great painter's canvass, threw Entrancement over sense ; or in an age Of living flesh and blood to fulness grew, So beautiful and living as did come One summer-night before me in a dream, Pacing a dance of love-delirium With measured motion — like a brimming stream Which rolling in the sun we do behold, Its broad unvarying ripples hung with gold ! 2. A Man and Woman, bare as Bacchanals, Clothed only in the robing light of pleasure, And dancing to no music but the calls Of sighs, which faintly with their feet kept measure ; 87 Their mingling limbs now loosed, and now entangled, Like clustering rose-boughs when sweet airs are blowing, ' Or pure etherial fires now interspangled By winds, and now apart in glory glowing ; Their liquid eyes into each other burning, Their kiss-curved lips still to each other turning : 3. And thus they floated round and round, as lightly As gold-wing'd creatures circle in the sun ! The Man still smiled rejoicing, and as brightly As when their glorious dance was first begun ; But the ripe Woman with voluptuous feeling Became oppressed — a Hebe steep'cl in wine Out of Jove's cup ! — and, in their midway reeling, Sank on the bosom of her mate divine : Then, both grew ether-pale as skies at dawn ; And o'er their forms a veil of light was drawn. 88 XXXV. THE STATUE. 1. She lieth bare, in unveil'd loveliness, Yet nothing naked ; for the perfect charm Of beauty and of symmetry doth dress Her figure in a raiment bright and warm — A garb most spiritual, which doth repress The sensual eye of sense : with one fair arm She leaneth on a pillow, softly sinking, And her sweet face upturns, to some voluptuous thinking, 2. The other, bending with a rainbow grace, Plays with the hindmost tresses of her hair, Over her shoulder — Oh ! that love- toned face ! It beams a passionate pleasure on the air, And makes us crave some silent dwelling-place, To gaze and live on it for ever there ! 89 A love-thought stirs her mouth ; and o'er her eyes Appears the memory of a thousand sighs. 3. Her rich-sweird bosom , toward her white couch turn'd, Spell-takes the eye-lids ; and her limbs, extended In animate perfection, are discerned, In all the harmony of structure blended, Pressing each other's beauty : there hath burn'd A dream of fire about her, which hath ended ; And now she looks reposing from that vision, And from love's dream to love inviting soft transition. 90 XXXVI. THE WAKING MORN. 1. The blue, the fair eye-blue of Morn, With fallow cloudings islanded, Opens in fondness, slumber-born, O'er the loved earth beneath it spread : 2. And, kissing it from balmy sleeping, Lies on its breast in smiles of light; And hastes, joy-showers of d^w-tears weeping, To realise the dreams of nmht ! 91 XXXVII. A LAMENT FOR THE PAST 0, Early Days ! and Youth ! and Bloom ! Ye are exsanguent in the tomb Of Time and Change ! The Minutes and the Airs have taken Your glory from this form forsaken ! I cannot range The proud earth wantonly and proudly, Nor cry unto the ocean loudly, With glee redundant, as of yore ! The ecstasy of Life is gone ! Like a moss'd tree, I blanch alone ! I am beloved no more ! Old Time ! my Youth restore ! Ye Elements ! its liveries disgorge From your eternal maw ! Kindle new fire, wherewith I may reforge 92 The iron of my strength ! O, for a law Of the dead Past revocative ! To my Youth's grave, O, let my Age withdraw For thus ; for thus, it is not Life to live ! SONNETS. 95 I. THE BRIDE Let the trim tapers burn exceeding brightly ! And the white bed be deck'd as for a goddess, Who must be pillow'd, like high Vesper, nightly On couch etherial ! Be the curtains fleecy, Like Vesper's fairest, when calm nights are breezy — Transparent, parting — shewing what they hide, Or strive to veil — by mystery deified ! The floor gold-carpet, that her zone and bodice May lie in honour where they gently fall, Slow-loosened from her form symmetrical — Like mist from sunlight ! Burn, sweet odours, burn ! For incense at the altar of her pleasure ! Let music breathe with a voluptuous measure ; And witchcrafts trance her wheresoever she turn ! 96 II. BEAUTY VANISHED. A creature beautiful as dew-dipp'd roses, Symmetric as the goddess sprung in marble From out the sculptor's mind, deeply reposes In a rich sleep of thought ; and the clear warble Of birds that greet Aurora in blue skies Hath not a sound so holy as the sighs That part her fruit-like lips. Is she not dreaming A poesy inspired of panting love, Divine as that with which the heavens are streaming When the intense eye of the west is wove With the aurient sun-set ? She is gone ! I weep : For so all beauty passeth from the vision; And clouds of darkness o'er the spirit creep, Making of all her light obscure elision. 9 ill. THE MINGLING. Nature, low-panting into silence, seems In a voluptuous trance 'twixt pain and pleasure. Like a flushed bride, who sleeps, but still in dreams Awhile sighs lovingly, the day is hush'd To slumber in the west ; but its warm beams Yet breathe there of the sun : a fitful measure Comes on the air, at length'ning intervals, From some near-nestling bird ; whilst, even as crush 'd Flowerets and leaves yield incense, fruits their juices, The full-reposing beauty of the scene, Pressed by the strenuous soul, deeply infuses Its sweetness through the spirit ; till between The twain is but one life, and these clay walls On this side Death dissolve, and all on air we lean ! H 98 IV. THE PRESENT. As one, a steep and slippery cliff ascending, Pauses midway, and dares not farther climb ; But a reverting gaze beneath him bending, Greets terror in the downward course sublime ; And 'twixt the crags above and rocks below Quails : so, between the depths of all we know. And the veil'd Future's unattained summit, Despond we, till our fears around us throw A murkier shade than death's ; and all the glow Of fancy's star-fires would in vain illume it : But, ever and anon, Love's moon-like beaming With a religious beauty o'er us streaming, Nor ghost of Past, nor dream of Future riseth — But the sweet Present all in all sufficeth. 99 V. THE TRIUMPH OF LOVE. War lay by Love : his sanguine limbs her whiteness Bound, as might wreaths of coral ivory ; His sun-burnt cheeks from her etherial brightness Gather'd a gentle glory ; whilst a die Of shadow from his brow her fair embrown'd, And fell like twilight on the day profound Of her warm eyes : then, lull'd in purple splendour, She tamed his fierceness with her kisses tender ; And in the folding of her delicate arms Beguiling him to savage deeds' disuse, By the full prevalence of yielding charms She won for long-lorn Peace a live-long truce ; Girding with moonlight hope her cloud of fears — And half-redeem'd the world from blood and tears. u 2 100 VI. THE PARALLEL. I cannot celebrate great Nature's face When my adoring eyes are fixed there ; For then am I en rapt in my enjoyment, And feel her charms too well to say she's fair. When thou art on thy wooing lady's bosom, To laud her lips, or eyes, is't thy employment ? No ; thou hast scanty time to cull the blossom, And pausest not to descant on its grace : But when thy love hath its delirium fed, Thou dost retire, and call on memory ; Then in thy brain is inspiration bred, And thou salut'st her with a comment high : So, till I from the face of Nature turn, I cannot speak the thoughts with which I burn. 101 VII. COMPARISON. As lightning flashing on a twilight kiss Startles the heart that in the darkness trusted, Lest sight should make a sin of harmless bliss — True to the law which Nature's self adjusted : So, men's eyes striking on my musings written Alarm my mind, that thought not to be seen, Lest they should be with contumely smitten And their high truth cried false by others' spleen. Those lips are bold which bid the world defiance And in its spite will take their dues of pleasure ; That verse is daring which holds firm alliance With truth, and metes the world with rightful measure But lips still kiss, in face of scandal's blame — And I must write, though half the world cry Shame ! 102 VIII. ON A HUMAN HEART. And was this loathsome clod, which now I grasp, The vital centre of a wondrous world, Warming a bosom for pale love to clasp ? Was this foul mass the marvel, where enfurl'd, Like waves along the mighty ocean curl'd, High feelings rose, that would the stars defy ? Was this the throbbing and dilating thing, That lent all splendid beauty to the eye, Made the lip burn with holy melody, And floated Fancy on her rainbow-wing ? It was ! — a living and a human heart ! A sun of smiles — a solemn cloud of tears ! What is it now ? — Oh ! let my soul depart ! She's stricken, and her glory disappears. 103 IX. TO THREE SKULLS. Still grinning ? ye grim frames of vacant bone ! Still staring at me from your sockets blank ? Your noses, bitten by the grave's black frost, Still sneering hideously ? and your lean jaws lank, Jagg'd with those gumless teeth, still horribly Mocking the porch of lips ? — Ye do accost My waking with a warning thunder-tone ; And in your looks I read the certainty Of something that's eternal — death, or life — For ye with either argument are rife. I have had horrid dreams ; and ye are blest That no more welter with such fiery rain — - Curse on your empty heads ! that are at rest, Whilst tortures now are ringing through my brain ! 104 x. SLEEP. Why should'st thou rail at Sleep I poor waking Fool ! How canst thou tell what heavenly subtleties Are in thy brain wrought by the Power of Dream ? Y\ hat wondrous seeds of Rhymed Mysteries Sown in the Soul in slumber, when the cool And dew-lipp'd Night hath kiss'd each golden beam That made the Day, into oblivion ; And we within her silent bosom swoon Into a trance like Death's ? What's waking pleasure, But a forgetfulness of all of pain That hath been and must be, with some bright treasure Of present bliss, that no possession leaves us ? And what is Sleep ? A ceasing to complain ; And happiest life, if it a sweet dream weaves us. 105 XI. SPACE. O, for a song of unimagined glory, To tell the visible wonders of great Space ! And stand as on a spiritual promontory, Looking Creation in her holy face ; And with the adoring eye of Poesy Read the love-secrets there ! Holy, all holy, Is every aspect of the earth and sky ; And all the mighty cloud of melancholy That from the soul without on that within Descendeth, to the brainwork of vast dreams Lends splendid shadowings. O, for deep words, That, like the music of leaf-hidden birds, Might even from the listening flowers win Assent to the great love which in me teems ! 106 XII. REVELATION. Spirit!— to God '.—The Eternal Soul of Things Is animate within us ! — we aspire ; And, glorying in our elemental fire, Expand etherially — till we embrace At least a cloud that looks a deity ; And gazing upon Nature, face to face, Half trace her secret fountains to their springs, And hold a still communion with her sky. We need no revelation of the God — The high, instinctive Being of all Space ; For, as the sweet flower rises from the sod, Our essence from its clay springs mountingly — And all its heavenly birth-right doth inherit ! Ay, Spirit's revelation dwells in Spirit. 107 XIII. LIGHT IN GLOO M. The self-same play is acted day by day, And we the weary actors in the sameness : Our eloquent'st thoughts are dumb in their display, Our sight not seeing, and our speeding lameness : We walk as in a cloud ; and that poor ray That finds us in the midst, but serves to show The deepening mist that girds us as we go. And yet, I wot, a high and glorious light Lies in the outward Nature's couch of fire, To whose eternal pillows we aspire, And of their ardent freshness dream delight — That makes a living waking in our slumbers, Lightens a beam of glory through our night, And leads the Soul's streams forth, in all their crystal numbers, 108 XIV. S O L A c e. Thou who dost slumber in dim apathy, Born of this world's unfathom'd mystery — Where nothing sweet is tasted, not even love, Which bitterness succeeds not ; where the dove Of dear Enjoyment, by the vulture Sorrow Is murder'd at the heart ; and hope and thought, By their intensity to torture wrought, But gild the brief night that hath no to-morrow — Yet, come with me ! and to the altars fleeing, For refuge from ourselves, of Nature holy, Let us there worship, till this gloomy being Feel gladness lighten o'er its melancholy ; And gazing on the blue sea, rocks and sky, Our souls gush to their God, in felt eternity ! 109 XV. THE JOURNEY. " We're on a journey brief; the day is bright, " And our thoughts joyous — that we shall not tire." We're on a journey that is infinite ; 'Mid an eternal change of sun and cloud, Cold winter showerings and hot summer fire ; Breathed on by zephyrs, struck by whirlwinds loud ; And our thoughts, floating through eternity, Are lapt by turns in joy and agony, In glory and in gloom ; and if fatigue Assail us not in our unresting travel, ; Tis that we make with our own souls a league Not to look far before, but on our road Glance round and feel employed : would we unravel The Immensity beyond ? We lift a weary load. 1 1 XVI. MINDS AND THE UNIVERSE. There must be mighty pantings of free thought, Cravings profound for liberty and love And sublime ponderings on life and death, In all the spirits that fill mortal forms ! I cannot yet believe the human swarms Hived on the earth, are the mere things of breath, Instinct and form, custom, and slavery To what their fellows damn, or may approve, Which still they seem : the mystery round them wrought. The source and flow of things, the Eternity From whence they issued and to which they tend, Must draw their souls unto their utmost bend And turn them from life's daily littleness ; Or reason is an ape, and spirit spiritless ! Hi XVII. LIFE AND ITS DREAMS. Even as a cloud, from the horizon's bound, Floats o'er the dark sea dim and rapidly, Passes before the sun, deriving light, Wafts o'er the hills, as doth an airy sound, And latching on the forehead of the night, F'aints into unseen dew — and so doth die ! Even as a far bird comes, with swift endeavour, In happy search of regions summer-mild, Sinks weary down upon the billows wild, And soon within their depths is whelm'd for ever : So is it with our life, from birth to death ; And, in their cloud and bird-flight, all its dreams Still vanish even as a vapour's wreath, Or perish in affliction's gather'd streams. 112 XVIII. THE LIFE ETERNAL. We have two lives. The one, is but a cheat : A thing of mere convention, which we bear As minions of that Congregate Deceit, Society — sole hope of many men ! The tiny parts of one great counterfeit. The other, fountain'd in Eternity, Eternal is ; and toward Eternity Flows constant ; self-impelling and sublime : It recogniseth neither Space nor Time ; Contain'd not, but containing ; in itself Folding the Universe ; creating all, Of nought created ; sole, and self-sustain'd ! An all-perpetual, undiscerned glory, To which this Visible Round is darkly transitory ! 113 XIX. ENCHANTED GROUND. I sat alone, far in a meadow nook, Fern, briars and wild-flowers dew around me weeping, And read upon old Bunyan's Christian book Of Pilgrims vain on Ground Enchanted sleeping : As, musing, from the page my gaze I took, I saw dark ivy round a wild-flower creeping ; A spider, when my eyes that trance forsook, Its venom on a golden insect heaping, Did I arrest with my detecting look : Beyond, a pretty-winged thing was steeping Its plumes in dew-beams from the woodbine shook, At which a bird flew by, and caught it, leaping. Ah ! when these evil aspects gird us round, Tis best to sleep upon Enchanted Ground. 114 XX. HOPE'S NEED. The earth is full of ripe and pleasant foison, Enough to feed its human people all With sweet abundance; yet, save they quaff poison, Or have recourse to water, fire, or steel, Or strangling, or from some high point down fall And dash their lives out, there be those must feel Famine, and pining cold, and desolation. O, God ! sure hearts are stones ? or none would want The little which they lack in their progression From birth to death : men's needings are but scant ; But scantier far men's charity, denying Superfluous food to life, with hunger dying. O, Human Thought ! that in thy contemplation Bear'st this, and hopest not — thine is sore oppression. 115 XXI. AN EXHORTATION TO MANKIND. When will it be that men shall kinder grow In human intercourse ; and not thus, savagely, Spring upon each occasion to overthrow Their fellow-travellers through mortality ? God hath apportion'd us enough of woe In this brief journey ; from within derived, And from the elements, in which we sicken, Grow weak and die : let not man be deprived By man of that poor solace which doth quicken The flagging heart and the o'erlabour'd brain, And temper to endurance, when self-stricken, Or time and storm-worn. Transient thing ! refrain ! Sting not thy brother insect, till he perish : A life brief as thine own, vex not; but cherish. i 2 llfi XXII. TO THE PEOPLE. The Fatal Tree that grew in Paradise, Whose Fruit, being plucked and eaten, brought the Curse Of Sin and Sorrow on the goodly Earth, Must cure as it hath poison'd ! Healing lies In Knowledge for the wounds which the Old Verse Avers were got from Knowledge : a new birth Must rise from death ; and both of that high cause Which makes us " even as eods" be the deriven laws. Let the gall'd Many, in their banded numbers, Drink of the solemn Knowledge-streams that flow Over the Land, from the exhaustless springs Of the Redeemer- Press ; till what encumbers The people with its load be hurl'd below Into hell-depths, and Mind be left to her free wings ! 117 XXIII. THE TO-CO M E. We spurn thy slight decrees, ephemeral World ! And the debased necessity of things That bows us down before them : there is fuiTd In us the banner of a fortitude, And lowly on its sovereign rampart hurl'd. It shall be re-exalted ! There be wings Weaving themselves within the loom of Time, On which a race to come shall float sublime In the just liberty of their own mood. Thou art a tyrant high, usurping power, Which shall a little moment be obey'd — And then, dethroned ; the disenthralling hour Now lightens from the Future's thunder-shade ! Thy minions veil their eyes, and are dismay 'd. 118 XXIV. A PROPHECY. There is a mighty dawning on the earth, Of human glory : dreams unknown before Fill the miners boundless world, and wondrous birth Is given to great thought ; and deep-drawn lore, But late a hidden fount, at which a few Quaff'd and were glad, is now a flowing river, Which the parch'd nations may approach and view, Kneel down and drink, or float in it for ever : The bonds of Spirit are asunder broken, And Matter makes a very sport of distance ; On every side appears a silent token Of what will be hereafter, when Existence Shall even become a pure and equal thing, And earth sweep high as heaven, on solemn wing. 110 XXV. OF POETS. Oh ! do not envy Poets the poor breath Of praise which urgeth on their sail of life Along the troubled waters of the world ; Nor the rich power by which they twine the wreath Of fame which crowns them when that sail is furl'd In the calm haven of the breathless grave : Bitter and strong and manifold the strife Which shakes them on that voyage ; every wave Of feeling dashes o'er their weltering heart ; And all the thunder and the flash of thought Vollies and lightens round their fitful brain ; And their high power, by which the world is wrought To mightiest sympathies, is grasp'd in pain, Shower'd from the bosom-tempests they impart. 120 XXVI. SHELLEY. Holy and mighty Poet of the Spirit That broods and breathes along the Universe ! In the least portion of whose starry verse Is the great breath the sphered heavens inherit — No human song is eloquent as thine ; For, by a reasoning instinct all divine, Thou feel'st the soul of things ; and thereof singing, With all the madness of a skylark, springing From earth to heaven, the intenseness of thy strain, Like the lark's music all around us ringing, Laps us in God's own heart, and we regain Our primal life etherial ! Men profane Blaspheme thee : I have heard thee Dreamer styled- I've mused upon their wakefulness — and smiled. 121 XXVII. SHELLEY & KEATS, & THEIR " REVIEWER." Two heavenly doves I saw, which were indeed Sweet birds and gentle — like the immortal pair That waft the Cyprian chariot through the air ; And with their songs made music, to exceed All thought of what rich poesy might be : At which, a crow, perch'd on a sullen tree, Dingy and hoarse, made baser by their brightness, Would fain be judge of melody and whiteness, And caw'd dire sentence on those sweet- throat turtles ; To which his fellow flock of carrion things Croak'd clamorous assent : but still the wings Of those pure birds are white amid the myrtles Of every grove, where cull they nectar'd seed, Whilst still on cold, dead flesh, those carrion creatures feed. 122 XXVIII. "JULIAN AND MADDAL O." I read of " Julian" and " Count Maddalo," Till in their spirits' presence stood my soul ; And blending with their sympathy of woe, A tempest woke my thoughts, and they 'gan roll, Billow on billow, toward Eternity — And Passion's cloud hung over the vast Sea. Where is the Essence now, that thought and spoke ? Absorb'd like water, the frail vessel broke That held it trembling from the sand awhile ? Or doth it quiver still ; and, quivering, smile At the now clear'd-up Mystery of Creation ? Which shook it once even to its mortal seat, Which seems the brain and heart, that burn and beat, Till Life pants darkly for Annihilation. ]23 XXIX. T A G L I O N I. The music and the eloquence of motion Breathe in quick beauty from her subtle feet ; She moveth like a moonbeam upon ocean, Which curves and quivers as the billows fleet ; Upon the earth her fine foot falls as lightly As winds of odour, or aerial rays From Morn's blue eye, on a mist-woven cloud — Or dews upon the forest and the flowers : So round Apollo glance the golden Hours ; Bacchants, with thyrsus arm'd and cymbals loud, So bound ; in many a wine-bewitched maze, About their joyous god ; so Iris, brightly, Weaving from sun and rain her silent wings, Upon her pinnacle of ether springs ! 124 xxx. THE TRANCE. For six long months I lived and yet was dead : All faith and hope were gone from me ; I spoke not ; My heart 110 longer on my spirit fed, But on itself, and bitterly ; it woke not With the awak'ning world of things ; it sunk Into the depths of sullen-sleeping thought, And brooded on extinction, in a drunk And apoplex'd bewilderment ! I sought For savage arguments, wherewith to arm My life against my life, that it might pass Into oblivion : but the mighty charm Of Being chained me to itself; a glass All microscopic came to my Soul's eye — J shook — the atom Time grew to Eternity ! 125 XXXI. THE REPROOF OF FAITH. Even by the Wonder of the Universe My inmost heart and brain were shaken fearfully; And whether 'twere a blessing, or a curse, One of the myriad moving things to be That people it, I knew not. From the Sea A sound of terror and a sight of gloom Pass'd through me ; and as upward, mute and tearfully, I turn'd mine eyes for comfort, Space grew dark And breathless as a deeply-vaulted tomb ; That my soul circled round the hueless arc, And thence return'd unsolaced. From within At length dawn'd consolation. Much of sun Had shone, and yet would shine, where now was none : Faith with the thought came back ; and whisper'd — " Doubt is Sin," 126 XXXII. ATOMICS The cavities of tiny grains of sand Have " deserts idle" and deep " antres vast," The haunts of things alive, which understand, By usage of all senses, that they live, Enjoy and suffer ; but, no more ! And we, Of this " great globe" the creatures transitive, Know we aught else, for sure ? Eternity ; Immensity : in these our doom is cast ; With which compared, earth and its measured time Are but as sand-grains, whereof in the nooks We little insects take our revelry, Laugh, weep, and turn to dust. Those dogma-books That plague us with our immortality — Hold they more truth of warrant than this rhyme ? 127 XXXIII. THE UNDECEIVING, On the great day when I did cease to love, A glory from the midst of things departed : But straightway I became more solemn-hearted ; Lifting the business of my mind above The vulgar work of sense, and even drew A fulness from the world's new vacancy. In the changed spirit of life which in me grew There was a temperate and chastened sadness, That gather'd in the wake of that old madness As cloudy evening o'er the hot day-sky, And strengthen^ with its shade my dazzled view Of Present and Hereafter. Be my eye Closed to all outward beauty from this hour ; Whilst in my soul I arm a change-defying power 1-28 XXXIV. SOUL-CREATION. Those words I utter for the Vulgar World Are not the speech of my in-musing heart ; Where, like to honey by the flower enfurl'd, There lies a treasure from the W T orld apart : The World, that cannot pluck from me the art Of breathing beauty into trembling song ; Which till the blood be stagnant in my veins Must of prerogative to me belong ! An hour of calm and sea-side loneliness Will melt out from my mind the grievous stains Impressed there by forced worldliness ; And as an eve of stillness after storms Shall my soul be, and with a self-caress Beget creation of all lovely forms. 1*29 XXXV. THE UN-CHARMED. M* pierced life was all ablood with sorrow! For, suddenly, the veil of beauty thrown By glorifying Youth o'er sweet To-Morrow Fell, and disclosed to me the Future's frown ; Within the wrinkles of whose unread brow There was a lurking something which till then I dream'd not hung before the lives of men, Ready to fall upon them as they grow Into the longer knowledge of brief years : Blank vacancy ; and doubt ; and strangled tears, That never reach the eyelids ; vanishing Of all sweet things we love ; death-beds ; and graves ; And shadowy wrecks, where pale hopes trembling cling, Heart-faint, and stifled by continual waves ! K 130 xxxvi. THE CORRUPTION. With much of baseness have I had to do — Base men ; base things ! — in this relapse of mine Into the darkness of our common life, Through which we thoughtless of all wonders go Of birth and life and death, as brutish swine That for their food i' the mire make bestial strife. Worse than Persephone dragg'd back to Hell From midway-wending towards Apollo's sight, Fares the pale Soul, into her fleshly cell Resunk, from her aspirings to the light Of that etherial day which ever burnetii In holy Thought's imagined Universe ! I have been tempted ; and I feel the Curse, As vainly now my heart to its old glory turneth. 131 XXXVII. " MY TABLETS, HO!" Time passeth o'er me like a silent cloud ; My gaze reverteth, bat 'tis gone — dissolved Into vacuity, or dim-involved With the undiscerned winds ! — Oh ! Infancy, Where be thine eyes, floating in delicate blue ? Oh ! Childhood, where thy heart-high prophecy Of dream-fulfilling bliss ? Oh! Beauty's hue, Where be thy balmy youth ? Oh ! Manhood proud, Where thy stout sinews ? Age, oh ! where thy breath ? All blended in the infinite of Death ! Therefore, away ! base heed of appetite ; And, love ! be pastime for a wanton hour : Out of this darkness must I kindle light, And the all-powerful Shadow overpower. k 2 132 XXXVIII. T O II Y SON G. Fawn of my deer-swift Thought ! that wert most young And bounded o'er the meadows of delight, Dew-freshen'd herbs and pleasant flowers among, With choice of cool shade or of sunshine bright : What hath befallen thy rejoicing state, That thou dost gambol on the sward no more, But still at early morn and evening late Crouch on the sod where thou didst leap before ? A blight is on thy place of revelry, And thou dost pluck up hemlock with thy food ; That well may sick death overdim thine eye When poison mingles with thine infant blood : Ah ! muddy are the streams thy thirst that slake ; And thou hast honours — but they branch, to break. 133 XXXIX. R O Y A L T Y. Feels a king's soul as mine such regal pride ? I'm hill-surrounded and star-canopied, And upon Thought immortal am I throned ; My verse my sceptre, and my liegemen true The tributary hearts which I imbue With my mind's shadow : should I stand disown'd Amid the peopled world — scorn'd of the many, Fear'd of the few and unbeloved by any — I am the master still of mine own fate ; Defeat cannot subdue me to its state, Nor victory unseemingly elate : Otway died meanly ; not so Chatter ton, Whose hopes forsook and left his heart alone — No footstool-emperor he, for man to tread upon ! 134 XL. PHILOSOPHY AND IMPULSE. TO G***** T****** # When Socrates, through Plato, learnedly Argueth against impulsive action, I, in the ignorance of Mortality, To his divinest meditation, Which holdeth that achievement — difficult As is the checking of the wind and tide — The curbing of the Thought's and Feeling's pride, To be within the scope and a result Of blood and fancy-led Humanity, Do write me down most captious heretic, Falling to contradiction splenetic. Ah ! dear G* T** ! If this did abide Within the compass of Philosophy, My Friend and I were spirits right orderly ! 135 XLI. AN ANTICIPATION. My youth was love, and all my love was youth; And youth and love were blended in my song ; With much of fable, but with more of truth, And though the chain was weak, its power was strong : For, as we pause by summer-vale, or hill, To drink the music of a bird, or rill, So warm hearts waited round my gushing lyre, And loved the dreamer for his vision's fire ! But now my hair is grey, my sense is blind ; Time's ashes choke my heart's expiring glow ; And my Song, leaving this bright world behind, Mounts to the loftier world to which I go : I muse on deathless things ; but die, alone — A King abandoned, by his shattered throne ! ADYTA CORDIS. POEMS AND SONNETS. POEM S. 141 I. PAIN AND SOLACE. A VISION. 1. With her I love I entered a proud chamber, FestoorTd with golden lamps, of many dies Illumed, with pendents of rich pearl and amber; And on the walls hung ancient tapestries, Storied with many tales of smiles and sighs. There, in the midst, on a low ottoman, Sate she I loved, gazing with weeping eyes Upon a woven mythos of Old Pan, And Syrinx, piteous Nymph ! transformed as she ran. 2. " Thou hast destroyed me, Traitor !" wildly turning To greet me as I pass'd, she cried aloud ; Her fine eye flashing and her fair cheek burning : " Thou seest me here to mine own sorrows bow'd, Thou Dreaming Falsehood ! of thy falseness proud ! 142 Still thinking how to use me for thy lyre ; And out of my dark Passion's thunder-cloud Lightning to draw : ay ; like yon Shepherd Sire, A living song to make of thy most dead desire. 3. " Begone ! — I shall not die !" — She said ; and faded, Like to a form of mist in evening dim, When the true vision of the eye is shaded, And all around with spectral face and limb The fields and woods seem ghastly. As a Hymn Of God long sounds within the Sinner's brain After the Airs have tomb'd its notes sublime, Those words still shook my heart, all pierced with pain- As haunt a Slayer's soul the last sighs of the Slain ! 4. But with the solemn echoes as I quiver'd Of that prophetic voice of her I loved, Deep phrase of solace she I love deliver'd, Which the infection of their grief removed . That phrase : — " She shall not die ! — Let it be proved By entranced songs of living minstrelsy ; Which lark enclouded, nightingale engroved, May pipe sweet concord to from earth and sky ; Whilst the World's loving hearts, in chorus soft, reply !" 143 II. PREVENTION. 1. Thou dartest the soul-laden light Of thine emu-eyes, unpeer'd, Upward to mine, as to invite Answer coveted, but fear'd : And the nectar in the flower Hath not that alluring power For the hived mechanic bee, As for me Of thy lips the honied dower, Where, like a red flag on a tower, Passion triumphs sanguinely. 2. But other eyes are coldly near ; The charm ineffable is broken : 144 From my entranced eyes gather, Dear ! What else were done, what else were spoken The holy kiss which others see Is but a barren kiss to me. 1 15 III. THE APPEAL. 1. By that power which in man The might of intellectual mind, Which all height and depth can scan, Still waves o'er that in woman shrined ; The sky-aspiring sympathies That spurn this world's realities, And from eager soul to soul Fly in fire without controul — Thee I summon to surrender To the hopes which in me burn, And drink feelings deep and tender Heart from heart, as from an urn ! 2. I listen to thy bird-like singing As to the music of some sphere, L 14G Far in the depths of azure winging A hymning flight, which souls may hear That at midnight muse alone In a thought-world of their own : ; Tis laden with a mystery deep, That falls like shadow on me — and I weep ! 3. I look into thy deep blue eyes, And see thy soul reposing there, Like a rainbow in the skies; The creature of a smile and tear, Arching o'er each azure sphere : Oh ! when shall love be closing there, Wearied with intense delight, As a blue flower in twilight ; Or star-fires when the moon doth peer ? I gaze upon them, till I sleep In an inebriate dream — and through my brain doth leap 4. A mighty torrent of imaginings, Full-starr'd with eyes, and clothed with wings, All-seeing, all-pervading — Excess of light my soul is shading ! 147 And unless thy heart accords That which love ne'er asks in words, My heart, even as my lyre, will lose its strings, And in dumb anguish die, like winter-stricken birds, l 2 148 IV. THE CUP OF JOY. 1. The cup of my joy is filling ; Thou pourest the nectar, Dear ! And the draught will be deep and thrilling As ever the heart came near ! Pour on ! pour on ! till the rim Be hidden with Love's strong wine : That passion must flow o'er the brim Which is shed from a face like thine ! 3. 'Tis full ; I have quarT'd ; and my blood In the draught hath been madden'd and quell'd Still I pant for the same sweet flood, By the thirst of my spirit impelled ! 149 4. Fill- high, again ! fill high ! Let the nectar again gush o'er ! I faint in the fire of thine eye, And must drain the full cup once more ! 150 V. THE CREED. 1. I do believe in Heaven ; Tis written in those orbs of seeing : A perfect creed is given By those celestial lights, of an eternal being! 2. There's sweetness in the flowers And hues with glowing beauty rife ; But in those eyes of yours Floats a diviner grace, that speaks eternal life. 3. Within the stars is glory, And evidence of Heaven and God ; But the " Hereafter" story Burns with in tenser truth in that twin-sphered abode 151 4. Yet will my creed confound me ; Its oracles are too divine : The light they pour around me Distracts me from the god ; I but adore the shrine, As you in Heaven believe, Veil them ! they are too richly clear : Veil ! and my faith reprieve — Their light hath too much love for burning sense to bear ! 152 VI. LOVE'S SAFETY. 1. Love ! thou tremblest like a flame That quivers in the air of night : Is it the breath of love, or shame, That strikes and seals thine eyes of light ? 2. Like the lark in cold air singing, The glow-worm in the chill winds gleaming, Dost thou quail ; a sleep seems clinging Toward thy bosom, passion-dreaming. 3. Wake ! for eyes are watchful near ; Thy face betrays forbidden feeling : • Wake ! for, oh ! bethink thee, Dear — Love's safety lies in love-concealing. 153 VII. THE LIFE OF FLOWERS. 1. " I would, dear Love ! that I thy convert were To that strange lore — ' The fair flowers dream and feel, Are glad and woful, fond and scornful are ; And mutely conscious how the unresting wheel Of Time revolveth, and doth hourly steal Their beauty, and the heart-companionship Of their nectarious kindred, that reveal Their souls to sunlight, and with fragrant lip Drink the abundant dews that from God's eyelids drip/ 2. " But then, I never dare another cull, To crush its being, and for ever end Its commune with its fellows beautiful : Ah ! no ; presence and absence never blend A consciousness about them ; or to rend 154 Lover from lover, in their early wooing, When even the rainbow their dew'd eyes transcend ; For our adornment merely — oh ! 'twere doing Sweet creatures bitter wrong, with our worst woes induing. 3. " At least, for conscience' sake, I'll not believe That they are sensible to hearted feeling ; For in no creature's being would I weave Those griefs which even now I am revealing In tears and sighs, from lips and eyelids stealing — Sad rain and wind of my heart's laden cloud ! — By which, if they do feel, with wounds unhealing Their parted spirits must be cleft and bow'd, Till they grew pale and sere, and wore Death's common shroud." 4. Then — to the lover's and the poet's warning Attend ! as to a Delphic oracle : When flowers into the grey eyes of the Morning Peer, in awaken'd beauty, from Night's cell ; On the warm heart of Noontide when they dwell ; ( h close in loveliness at Twilight's feet — They have their thoughts and dreams ; and thdu dost quell 155 A gentle spirit in each blossom sweet (Which its love-conscious mates for ever pine to greet — ■ 5. And pine in vain !) which thy small hand doth sunder From its green birth-place !— Art of those that sleep In common thought, to whom there is no wonder In all the Universe sublime and deep — Invisible and visible ! There weep Dews of a Morning round us, which must break, And unveil all things o'er which darkly sweep The night-shades of our ignorance. Awake! And in this creed believe — for Love's, if not Truth's sake, 156 VIII. TO A GLOW-WORM. 1. Beauty through all Being- Sheds her soul divine ; But our spirits, fleeing Still, from shrine to shrine, To kneel to her delights, far in the midst repine. 2. Ev'ry vision splendid That our dim eyes greeteth, By a cloud attended, Its own light defeateth ; And sorrow strikes the heart from every joy it weeteth 3. Drop of dewy light ! Liker dew than fire ; Lit to guide the flight Of thy mate's desire ; Thou look'st a fairy robed in a moonbeam's attire. 157 4. In thy leafy net-work Thou, enshrined, dost glow, And a beamy fretwork O'er its verdure throw — Thou little spirit of light, green-paradised below ! 5. Twilight, the dim ghost Of the bright day ended, From the awful host Of great hills descended, Reveals thy magic lamp, by silent genii tended. 6. Beautiful the glory, Pallid lamp of eve ! Twilight transitory Doth from thee receive, When deep in herbs and flowers thy splendours thou dost weave. 7. When the verdant floor And blue vault of night Love's star gildeth o'er With its holy light, Thy rays responsive glance to its aerial height. 158 8. Silver-fretted clouds In the vaulted blue, Likest are the shrouds Which thy beams imbue Of lightly-stirring leaves that palace thee in dew. 9. Eyes which sorrow dampeth With the grief of love, That in beauty lampeth Through their lashes, wove With crystal tear- work, beam like thee in dewy grove, 10. When thy fires, in number, Brightest beams retain, Clouds break on the slumber Of the air, in rain — Even as too many smiles do herald tearful pain. 11. Centred in sweet bushes, Drench 'd by the fast rain, Where thine emerald blushes, Paled, but bright, remain, Thou art as a calm heart which sorrows beat in vain. ] 59 12. Round thee wild winds howl, Dashing thee to earth ; Where thy tranquil soul, With unalter'd mirth, Gleams — as in our fierce world sweet innocence and worth 13. Through the tempest loud Thou dost calmly pierce, From the perfumed shroud Which thy beams immerse — As through the storms of Time the Poet's balmy verse ! 14. Beauteous as thou art, Memory makes thee dim : Thou disturb'st the heart, Twilight's living gem ! And my recurring thoughts cling to a mournful theme. 15. For one vanish'd hour, Gulf d in the dead past, Sighs and tears I pour To the wave and blast ; And my recurrent soul to its own depths is cast ! 160 16. Ne'er on leaf and blossom Do thou shine again, Till this weary bosom Sleeps, beneath them lain; Then nightly on my grave for epitaph remain 161 IX. E V E N I N G. 1. The dews are falling, the dews are falling ; The lark is in his place of rest ; The swallows swift in the air are calling, Intent upon their insect-quest : Small moths o'er every bramble flit ; The ants are still their labours plying ; A massy cloud, by sunset lit, Over the daylight's grave is lying ; And all the north is densely hid By an air-piled cloud-pyramid — 2. Oh! my Life's distant Spirit! wert thou near, I would not offer up this thought-born tear On the dim altar of my solitude ; For in the shadow of the coming Dark, M 162 Which on the forehead of the East doth brood, Thine eyes were floods of joy for my soul's bark : But in my visions lonely Thy spectral memory only Proffers to my mute love an unsubstantial food. 163 x. A KNELL. 1. O, how absurd to weep, When the world is dissolving And stars are revolving To death, That an insect should sleep A slumber deep Wherein is no vile breath ! 2. She is gone in her beauty — gone ! In the grave she is lying ! And I, on the blank earth sighing Alone, Despair ! Memories come blightingly o'er me ; All visions of Hope sink before me, And the Sun seems a curse to the Air ! m 2 164 3. O, dare I my life-blood pour On the sod of thy grave, dead Flower ! With my blood the dry earth might devour My grief! But dear ones yet linger beside me ; And still through all storms that betide me Must shake my life's withering leaf! 4. 'Tis folly to weep ; to weep ! Thou art but an atom, asleep. The Universe still rolls on — But I am alone ; alone ! 165 XI. THE V O W. 1. For a kiss of that blood-rich mouth, Whence low music is faintly flowing, I pine — and not in vain ; For the passion within me growing, As from odorous flowers the south, Breathes incense from my brain. 2. And a song even now is gushing From my soul, o'er the human world, That may not basely die ! Like the bud of the rose, unfurl'd, Lady ! why is thy fair cheek blushing ? Sweet lady ! tell me why. 166 3. By the youth in thy life-blood fleet ! By the love that should fill thy heart ! I'll kiss thee ere the moon Shall to-night from the stars depart ; And thy dream shall be strange as sweet Ere they in daylight swoon ! IG7 XII. CONSOLATION. 1. In the sorrow of this silence Which I bear, from thee apart, I know I'm present still, Dear ! With the blood in thy young heart. 2. J know that i' the morn and eve, Whilst sitting by thy parlour-fire, Thy thoughts still turn to me, Dear ! With the pining of desire. 3. Through the green lanes and the woodlets As thou strayest, pensive-eyed, I know that in thy thoughts, Dear ! I'm press'd to thy warm side. 168 4. As thou pausest to converse With the Daisy, in its quiet, Thou pitiest my changed fate, Dear ! — Enslaved to the town's riot ! 5. That universal, deathless flower, In summer's sun and winter's weather- The lamb of the sweet flowers, Dear ! — We oft have bless'd together. 6. It is a link between us ever ; Creator of love-presence real ! And whilst we've one to gaze on, Dear ! Absence is a thing ideal. 7. I know I'm ever with thee, Dear ! In thy heart and in thy brain ; And with the balmy knowledge, Dear ! My heart redeems its pain ! 169 8. In the sorrow of this silence Which I bear, from thee apart, I know I'm living warm, Dear ! With the blood in thy full heart! 170 XIII. THE PORTRAIT. 1. The word of thy heart hath been broken — I wear not thy sweet picture yet ; Though with fondness the promise was spoken Which Love cannot speak — and forget. 2. ■ Tis false ; thine adorer blasphemes : For what could dull painter achieve Of portrait so true as these dreams Of our Past in the Present can weave ? 3. In my spirit thy features are drawn : Thy lips open crimsonly there ; And thine eyes shed their full moonlight dawn Through the rich-floating clouds of thy hair. 171 4. The word of thy heart is fultuTd; Of thy promise the import is plain : In my heart are thy features instill'd, Ana thy form is all limn'd in my brain ! 172 XIV. THE VEIL. 1. As the sun in the heaven of day, As the moon in the sky of night, Thou takest thy lustrous way Through my thoughts, in thy beauty's light : 2. Shedding beauty and warmth and splendour O'er the world of my heart and brain, And with shadows of feeling tender Far-streaking my memory's plain : 3. Making glitter the streams of my thought; Expanding the flowers of my feeling, Resplendent with sweet dews, caught From the heaven of thy high revealing ! 173 4. As a glow-worm lies hid in the shroud Of its own exceeding light ; As a planet obscured in the cloud Which its splendour maketh bright — 5. In my thought is thy beauty conceal'd ; In my heart hides thy passion pale — Their bright presence only reveal'd By the glory which is their veil. i 174 xv. THE HEART-THIRST. 1. I thirst for thy beauty, Dear ! — Sweet thirst in my spirit alway ! Of the flowers of my heart-spring, Dear ! The dew and the morning-ray. 2. Again to hear thee speak, Dear ! Were to wake in the music of Heaven, When the death-sleep is taken away, Dear ! And the life that sleeps never is given. 3. Again the sight of thy smile, Dear! Were a glance of the light of a star Which ruleth the date of our life, Dear ! With a power that is near whilst afar. 175 4. Again to see thee move, Dear ! Were to gaze on all visions of grace Which the great bards sow thick in our air, Dear And our thoughts in their silence embrace. 5. Again for our hands to clasp, Dear ! For the blood in our lips to converse, Were a touch of that mystic power, Dear ! W 7 hich kindled the Universe. 6. I thirst, I die for thy presence, Dear ! Pure thought in my spirit alway ! Of the bounding streams of my soul, Dear ! The sunlight on every spray ! 176 XVI. FATALISM. 1. The flower must imbibe the dews Whenever the bright dews bead it ; To flow the stream cannot refuse Whilst its springs with plenty feed it : 2. The crystal lakes must reflect The clouds and the planets pale ; Trees must bend and their pride be wrecked In the breath of the mighty gale : 3. Air hath no power to be free Of the cloud and the wind and the lightning, Which it draws from the earth and sea In the hours of its purest brightning : 177 4. Earth hath no self-arm 71 defence That can guard it from heat, frost and storm, And must quail in the influence Sun-suck'd from its own heart warm : 5. And thy heart must shed into mine Its joy and its grief together ; And my soul sink as deeply in thine As the stars lie engulf'd in the ether. 6. For woe or for weal let it be, For evil or good, life or death — Love to us is as much a destiny As to a babe is its breath ! N 178 XVII. BEAUT Y ' S PREDICAMENT. 'Twixt Passion and Indifference Beauty sat ; Prudence to this, Love swaying her to that : And thus Indifference with his cold mouth spoke :- " Most easy, Lady ! is my quiet yoke : I lead thee nor to trespass nor desire ; And hold thee temperate in the midst of fire 1" Said Passion, with a voice all tremulous — His pale cheek crimson'd, eye diaphanous : — " O, fly me not for him to whom the sun, Moon, stars, in their blue-bedded union, Are but a common show ; whom flowers and song Charm to no feeling as he gropes along ; Who, meting all things with a niggard measure, Still coldly stagnates betwixt grief and pleasure ; And, freezing, in his cell doth sleep and die, With no heart his in all mortality ! 179 O, turn to me ! for I can colour heaven, And robe the grey morn and the purple even In more than their own glory ; air and skies Fill with dream M memories of Paradise ; And bid the earth teem with high thoughts and feelings That for my listless foe have no revealings ! I with a word can wake heart-melody ; I with a glance can make felicity ; I with a touch can call up ecstasy !" — And what did lady Beauty in this strait ? As Prudence bade, to where Indifference sate She turn'd, and seem'd to move : Love nearer flew, And an invisible chain so round her threw, That, whilst to reach Indifference she tried, He drew her deftly to sweet Passion's side ; And fix'd her there a prisoner, rapt and bound. But long she breathed not on this human ground ! What chanced was sad : in that new, warm controul, She died amid the sweets of her own soul — Just as poor bees, in station over-sunny, Are drown'd i ? the hive of their own molten honey. n 2 180 XVIII. THAT DAY. 1. The sun, dear ! the sun, dear! Had a voice in his every ray, To tell thee, dear ! tell thee, dear ! Who was waiting for thee that day. 2. The birds were singing sweetly, dear ! Upon every sun-gilt spray ; And this said all their songs, dear ! " Why comes she not here this day V } 3. The water was rippling brightly, dear ! In its old restless way; And every ripple laugh'd, dear ! To see me alone that day. 181 4. The daisy from the grass, dear ! Peep'd up, in its own sweet way, With a sister flower by its side, dear ! More blest than was I that day ! The winds were breathing sweetly, dear ! And kissing, in their warm play, Kissing my brow and my lips, dear ! More fond than thou that day ! 6. The bud on the naked bough, dear! Seem'd to start from the old decay ; Call'd forth by the sudden shine, dear ! More inspired than thou that day. 7. The new-fallen lamb from the sod, dear ! Arose, with but brief delay ; And blithly follovv'd its dam, dear ! More alive than thou that day. 182 8. The clouds, clear ! the clouds, dear ! Were each touch'd by a loving ray ; And I the only cloud, dear! That sullenly look'd that day. 9. All things enjoy'd the sun, dear ! And smiled, in their spring-time way ; But I could not enjoy the sun, dear ! For the want of thy smile that day. 183 XIX. A PLEA FOR ABSENCE, 1. There is ice in my heart, There is fire in my brain : Oh ! let me depart, Nor behold thee again ! 2. Upbraid me not, Dearest ! My destiny calls me ; Not the death which thou fearest, But oblivion appals me : 3. I would wave with the bough, I would sing with the bird, With the wild waters flow, In the thunder be heard ; 184 4. In the sunbeams flash bright'ning, With the flower shed perfume, Blaze electric in lightning, In the tempest be gloom : 5. 1 would breathe with the wind, With the stars be all-seeing; I would live in the mind And be part of its being ! 6. Then must nothing molest The proud flight I pursue ; I shut love from my breast, Thy dear eyes from my view : 7. But when wrung with the toil Of the thought-weaving brain, Hound thy heart will I coil — And ne'er leave thee again ! SONNETS. 187 I. INDIRECTION. 1. Lady ! I know not what dark spell inthrals me, Shutting dear Beauty from my senseless soul ! List I thy music ? A dread accent calls me Unto Death's sepulchre, or grass-green knoll ! Feel I thy little hand, fast closed in mine, A lily field, fair-river'd with clear blue ? I clasp Death's icy fingers; and combine Therewith mine own, till they grow lifeless too ! Or gaze I on thine eyes, my own eyes' glass, Where Light hath made two azure palaces ? Death's sockets fright me; and obscurely pass Worms through their blanks, and fouler things than these ! Press I my lips upon thy queenly brow ? I bite the dust of graves, and graveward grow ! 188 2. There is a matchless beauty in thine eye, Where gentle Love, as in a temple, dwells ; But there the shadow of Mortality Lies deeply buried, and a sigh compels From those who look into the gloom of things, And see Decay lurk in the floweret-bells ; And black Corruption in the brightest springs ; And deadly Famine where the harvest swells ; And a dry Desert where the forest rings With the glad songs of spring's wing'd oracles ; Storms in the clearest sky, and in the spheres A Chaos ! Unto such, thy smiles are tears ; And the bright beauty of thy love-lit eye Full of the shadow of Mortality ! 189 II. REMEMBER THEE? And dost thou doubt that I remember thee, Because no word of thee adorn'd my letter ? Oh, God ! by my dark fate which is to be, And by the sorrows my strong soul that fetter— My innate gloom of spirit — I do swear To my racked heart, an oath religious there, That my mad soul unto thy memory sighs, As the lost traveller to the only star That lit his path, now dying in the clouds : O, mournful is the gloom my sky that shrouds, And my calm hopes betost in tempest are ; Yet 'mid my sadness thoughts of thee remain ; And the deep light of thy unfellow'd eyes Hath graven fiery records on my brain ! 190 III. "MANY;" YET, BUT "ONE." Say, I love " Many" — well, dear soul ! I do ; But the bright object of my love is " One :" I love a thousand flowers, of every hue, For all are beautiful, though similar none ; I love a thousand stars, for all are bright, And with their radiant beauty cleave the sight : Then, though I have, as thy sweet lips complain, On many a lip of ruby banqueted ; Of many a bright eye the rich-streaming rain Of light drunk with my soul, then nectar-fed ; 'Tis the same spirit I adore in all ; And must, till mine, or Reason's funeral : Tis the one deity of Beauty I In many a matchless temple deify. 191 IV. A HYMN TO MELANCHOLY On the soft rose of her most vernal cheek My warm lips take their banquet tremblingly : She is not angry — no ; nor doth she speak ; But her soul argues from her rich -ray 'd eye, By of bright tears a starry embassy, That herald solace — Ah ! my Spirit's Woe ! Thy moody fit hath prompted, in an hour, More than had ever issued from the flow Of Joy, vine-crown'd with all rejoicing power. Oh ! then I bless thee, god-born Melancholy ! And thou art wisdom, though fools call thee folly : The brief duration of my lone life's dower Fleets to extinction ; but, heart-led by thee, I've raised a flower to scent Eternity. 192 v. THE CHANGE. That day, since which the earth-saluting sun Hath seven times gilt the forehead of the sky, Nature was joyous ; and thou, gentle one ! Sat beaming on me with thy heaven-starr'd eye, Whose radiant glory mine drank flashingly : Our cheeks held union, like two roses meeting ; Our lips communed, with love's intemperate greeting ; Our sighs convulsed each other, and the hour Drew half its deadly depths of fearful sweetness, From the conviction that our passion's flower, Brief bud and blossom, grew with dying fleetness. Now all the air is cloud ; and I am cheating My utter sorrow with a dream of thee — Making a substance of shade memory. 193 VI. THE GLOW-WORM. W^iien once I kiss'd thee, my soul's Idol new ! A little glow-worm was our love's sole witness ; Whose pretty lamp gleam 'd with its emerald hue, But shadows broke not, weeting well their fitness : And since, I often have comparison^ Its fairy light to thee and thy dear love — Lit up in twilight late, the broad day shunn'd ; Glowing a glory in the world's dim grove ; Held in thy heart as that within its bush — This painting leaves with light, that cheeks with blush ; And then, for thy fair self — just such a light As throbb'd from that sweet summer-lamp of eve, Came melting from thine eyes on my dark sight, And did my lit soul witli bright chains enweave. o 194 VII. THE RIVER, When last we gazed upon that happy river, Whose bliss those mantled boughs bend low to share, Twas bright as heaven, and the bounteous giver Back of their beauty to the things above it ; And we as tranquil as its waters were, That with the eyes of love look'd down to love it : But now, the thick mists of the morn are o'er it, Hanging like fate above its flowing life; And musing now alone, I thus deplore it — 'Tis with the image of our own lot rife ; For o'er our bosoms hath the mist of sorrow Swept shroud ingly — and thence this grief I borrow : The river through its sun-pierced veil shall peer, The morning of our hearts may never clear. 195 VIII. THE LETTER. The set sun of my joy again ariseth : By thy sweet letter is my soul revived ; And as a sudden lamp dark sleep surpriseth, Thy greeting starts my heart, in slumber gyved. Thou hast wept o'er the closure of thy page ; And weeping words with weeping tears are blotted — From the same fount that hath from age to age Gush'd with the dew to all fond thoughts allotted : Oh ! they do seem the eloquent presage Of bliss hereafter, sweet, though sorrow-spotted. On " pity/ 7 " love me/' " cherish/ 7 and " forget/ 7 Have drops downfallen— the sweet words still seem wet : Thus, thus on dry tears I moist tears let fall — Would they were on thy cheek, whose rose would tinge them all ! o 2 196 IX. POSSESSION. Those lips are mine ! for on them I have set The living seal of passionate possession : Those brows are mine which like a coronet Arch o'er her sweet eyes, in their royal session Of high debate concerning ecstasy, How it may hold off grief ! for on them I Have breathed the flush'd soul of idolatry : Mine those debaters high ! and mine those tresses Which hold my falcon spirit in their jesses ! Mine that white hand, inlaid with tracery Of delicate blue ! and mine that globed shrine, Where Love dwells pantingly ! — All, all is mine ! Nor do I but possess them by a name ; But the true heart-lord of those riches am ! 197 x. RESEMBLANCE. Sweet lights and shades from outward objects stealing O'er the receiving tablet of the eye, Form pictures there, that to the inner feeling Give colour'd impresses ; which Memory- Stores in her galleries of glorious Art, Holding a magic order in each part ; That when again like combinations strike, The past springs to the present, seen alike ; Not clearer, present, to the present eye, Than past, made present by woke memory : Nay, not so clear ; for that sweet face I view, Soft light and shade to my fix'd sight revealing, Glows not so real, in its faintest hue, As that resembled face, eternal in my feeling. 198 XI. THE WRITTEN PORTRAIT. Were I a Painter, I would fix thee now ! — Thy dark hair, with its thick-entangled curls, Hanging like silken clouds by either brow ; Thy forehead peering o'er, more white than pearls ; Thine eyes, with a bright glory just ascended From the Elysium of thy beating heart ; Thy cheeks, deep-flush'd with roses, all unblended With the pale lily, whose demurer art Plays round thy lips, whose exquisite carnation Closes and opes, as mirth's sweet inspiration Conies o'er them, like a zephyr whose soft wing With freshening dew is laden — Lo ! 'tis traced : Thy picture glows in words ; a colouring Whose hues are fire — And shall they be effaced ? 199 XII. a HERE" AND " THERE:' The trees are Here in equal majesty ; As beautiful, though mellow'd by the year From pleasure into thought : flowers, too, are Here ; As sweet, and sun-died in their livery : And Here are gurgling brooks and rivulets ; And hills and vales, more lofty far and deep ; Round which the sun in holier glory sets, Moon and stars rise, and wild winds wake and sleep, And glad birds sing as sweetly : rocks are Here, And the vast deep they gird, which were not There : Then, why this sense of utter vacancy, That weighs upon my heart and dims my eye ? She is not Here who blest me in the night ! — Gone like the fairy lamps that lent us light ! 200 XIII. THE It I N G. As the blue Girdle of the Universe Doth all the warring elements enclose That battle through the sphered Infinity — Winds, lightning, thunder, light, and heat, and life, And all the glories in our vision rife Around the orb on which we dream and die : So one mind's universe of joys and woes ; Of passions that make all our bliss a curse ; Of smiles, sighs, tears and laughter ; and the treasure (For bane or good, as well or ill applied) Which lurks within the heart's rich-veined mine — Seems circled by this gold's enchanted measure, Which doth engird the deity divine That breatheth through the Soul's Creation wide. 201 XIV. THE BANQUET. Beside the blazing hearth we silent stood, Both lonely in our feelings and our fate, And faint in frame and mind : a cloud of blood Rose to her cheek, and from its bosom darted Etherial lightning to her eye sedate, Which then flash'd gorgeously — I stood the same ; Her sweet lips quiver'd like the glow-worm's flame When the winds rave — yet stood I inward-hearted ; My hands were clasp'd in hers — my soul was dead ; At length her lips, breathing Love's balmy south, Made fresh my feverish hand — I woke, and fed Upon the loveliest and the rosiest mouth That ever gated the rich life of breath — And there would feed, even when they banquet Death 202 xv. Til E HELL-MIST. We walk in hell ! for, reeking from the river, Dense vapours roll upon the atmosphere, Making a murky horror in the air ; Till, gall'd in sense and sight, all life doth quiver, And many a gasping heart groans forth a prayer For death, before such life. Enchantress dear ! Whose wand is beauty, on the lustre clear Of thy sweet eyes I fix a constant gaze, Lest in the infernal and condensing maze I lose all memory of light, and rave ; For darkness wraps the earth as in a grave, Where they alone are radiant. Near ! more near ! Let me not lose the Elysium of one beam ; A real thing in this infernal dream ! 203 XVI. MOTHER AND CHILD. Sweet rose-cheek 'd infant of a blue-eyed mother ! Thou beauteous germ, sprung from a glorious blossom ! That liest on thy parent's streaming bosom, Fair as a rainbow on the blue-vein'd sky, Or sunbeams on a bed of roses white. Art thou the embodied spirit of delight, That feedest even on woe ? Oh ! let me smother Thine infant lids with kisses, as they lie Half-closed upon thy yearning mother's breast, From whence thou drainest life in ecstasy ! Couldst thou but know the sorrow which is guest' Of the fond heart that feeds thee, thou wouldst weep A piteous fountain from thine innocent eye, And thy nectarious food in the salt crystal steep, 204 XVII. THE DREAM. I dream'd the lady whom I love was dying — Was dead, and in eternal silence lying ; Whilst I, as is my wont, to hide the feeling That rent my inmost heart of life asunder, Affected laughter, and awhile pretended To read some page of wondrous poesy — (The Northern Ploughman's 'twas) but quickly ended That fearful struggle at despair-concealing ; And an electric grief fell loud as thunder, Withering as lightning, on my brain and heart : Upon the floor, groaning and ravingly, I dash'd my forehead, and wild shriek 'd aloud ; Until, methought, she leapt out of her shroud, And hail'd me Dead — and we no more did part. 205 XVIII. THE PICTURE. The shades of night around thy portrait, Dear! Are gathered, till thy semblance waneth dim ; And what awhile ago like thee was clear, Shews indistinct in feature and in limb : And such hereafter will the shadows be On thy sweet image in my memory . Taper and fire, with artificial light, Give back thy painted likeness to the sight ; And fancy in far years to come may shed Brightness on recollection, and again Stamp thee upon my soul. Ah ! darkness fled, Another morn will on thy picture rain ; But know I not what sun can e'er restore That morning of my heart which passeth o'er. 200 XIX. THE MIRTH OF SORROW. The sorrows of my nature well thou knowest, Thou who canst feel for those who deeply feel ; And in thy heart's esteem were I the lowest, That gentle heart should not thus all reveal Its grief and anger at the fitful mood Which, wounding those I cherish, breaks the sadness That else would sink me into listless madness, And turn to poison what is now my food, Sweeten'd by these wild startings : solitude Had seen me at thy feet in silence kneeling, And weeping on thy lap, Dew of my Years ! What outlet, when forbidding eyes intrude, For my o'erflowing soul's tempestuous feeling, But that mad mirth ? — It now is calm'd in tears. 207 xx. THE SORROW OF MIRTH. Oh ! anything but that unfeeling mirth, Those heartless snatches of unmeaning song ! It is assumption merely, and hath birth In deepest sadness ; and the effort's need That galls my spirit with indifference seeming, In its re-action will but prove more strong The chain that is around thee : let us weed Our hearts of briars, and leave one sweet flower To drink the dews of love and the bright beaming Of thought's internal joy ! Shall every shower That will pour down from life's still-changing sky Make the rich blossom veil its peerless eye And stoop its nectar'd beauty to the sod ? Then must it wither soon ; and to dull earth be trod ! 208 XXI. THE SYMBOL. Tn e mystic Circle of Eternity For ever is around our souls revolving : Sweet flowers are circular ; sweet fruits are orb'd, And in Time's circle live and are absorb'd, As we and all things ; in the circled sky, The rounded earth and moon, each planet sphered, Wheel round the mighty circle of the sun In orbed motion, true and self-involving : The myriad fiery cirques that robe the azure, Beaming a golden glory without measure From the blue height of their constellate throne, Bear the same sacred figure. This gemm'd ring, By Nature's great religion thus endear'd, Symbols my love — a centre-circling thing. 209 XXII. TO HER LOVER. " I am most wretched, Dear ! to see you merry ; Smiling, and raising smiles on others' cheeks; Whilst with a sad face in my heart I bury A passionate love for thee, which almost breaks My spirit with its great power : to hear you laugh And jest amid the free and empty-hearted And gather seeming pleasure from all eyes, When from within me hath all sense departed Of joy, save that which in your fondness lies, And bliss from thine eyes only can I quaff — My heart is eaten by its inward sighs ; For all thy gentle vow t s seem mockeries : But even then thine eyes to mine will turn With a soft-lighted love, that cannot falsely burn !" 210 XXIII. UNRAVELMENT. I know full well, Sweet! why thou canst not bear That I should take me to my books and pen, Though they make light the heavy garb I wear Of doubt and thought, that folds my spirit within Her shrouded self: thou lov'st me — that I know ; And so around me do thy feelings grow, Thou canst not turn thee from the one great theme For ever of fond hearts the restless dream : And therefore it disturbs thee to behold Thy lover, with a perseverance cold, Pursue the great heart-business of his being — To win beyond the grave a sense and seeing. But, oh ! content thee : in his absence long Thou art the breathing soul of half his song ! i>l 1 XXIV. T II E WOO D. Why, here we are alone : the dark trees wave Their fingery branches in the ceaseless wind ; And grass and moss the tangled pathway pave, Where daisies lift their heads, in vestal guise, And open their snow-white and pinky eyes In beauty which the shadows of the wood Too chastely cloister. Let me read the mind Which gushes o'er thine aspect, like a flood, And thence draw warranty. It is derived ! In that eye-glory is my passion shrived ! Our lips kiss quiveringly ; again ! — no more !— Thy very life seems stifled in held breath, And a dim shadow sweeps thine eyelids o'er — A nearer greeting were delirious death ! p 2 212 xxv. THE CRONE. Beldam ! Why hither must thy slow feet stray, To gather dry sticks for thy desolate hearth, Whose fire thou feedest with that scanty fuel, To keep thine old blood warm whilst winds are cruel ? Amid the myriad pathways of the earth, Was there no other for thy groping way Than this, thou crooked and time-eaten hag ! Wherein thy witch-like presence hatli enchanted Hearts from the brink of bliss on which they panted ? Were diamonds hung upon thine every rag, And thy crook'd crutch a wand of Fairyland, To work all alchemy at thy command, Love's church should ne'er absolve thee, hoary Crone ! Of the foul sacrilege thine eyes have done. 213 XXVI. THREE DISCOURSES ON ONE TEXT 1. " It is because I love you so" — It is ! It is because you love me that you tremble, Like wind-touch'd foliage, at my gentlest kiss : I fear to kiss thee ; thou canst not dissemble : But as an ancient sibyl, when inspired By her presiding god, all o'er did quiver, Like the dash'd surface of a storm-swept river, And show'd without that she within was fired — Thou, shaken by the mystic spirit of love, Betray'st its inward workings to all eyes. Ah, Sweet ! concealment doth the heart behove ; And they who would be blest must stifle sighs : Then, if thou lov'st me, do not love betray ; But underneath a cloak let us have sunny way. 214 2. u It is because I love you so" — By Love! There is more poesy in that sweet phrase Than in all songs of old, or later days : A doting sorrow in me it doth move, And a strange quailing of the heart, which shaketh Like calmest waters ere the thick rain break eth From the sky's clouded breast. Would we had never Stolen each other's secret with our eyes ; But let it in deep veilings sleep for ever ! A curse awaits on Nature's sympathies ; And they are blest whose souls are cold and free : And yet 1 would not, for Eternity, Cancel one moment of the dreamy past On which the shadows of our hearts were cast ! 3. " It is because I love you so" — It is ! The deadly poison of deep love is in thee, Which thou hast gather'd from my touch and kiss. It is because you love : a deity 215 Featured and form'd for eyes* idolatry, Though he should greet thee with essential love, Could not thy being so divinely move As these my mortal lips, didst thou adore not : O, hallo w'd be the day I sought to win thee ! And the indelible past do thou deplore not ; For though thy passion be now check'd and blighted By the cold air of present circumstance — (Poets are Prophets, and dispute with Chance !) Some hour a sun shall rise, and thy heart's world be lighted. 216 XXVII. PROMISE. I go ; but ; do not weep ! — I will remember Thine every accent till we meet again ; The bright fire of my love shall ne'er know ember, But purely burn, like to the soul of wine : I'll think and dream of thee ; I'll ne'er recline To slumber, but I'll wish my couch were thine ; Nor wake, and sigh not for thee : and by letter I'll break the distance which our love doth fetter, And speak to thee in love-born characters ; And on the wide sea-waving of my verse A rich shower of sweet thoughts of thee shall rain, And stories of our hearts will I rehearse : Let this assurance stanch thy bleeding woe — Thine image follows me where'er I go. 217 XXVIII. THE SHAME. " It is a shame that we are forced to part !" — It is a shame to pluck sweet flower from flower, That offer incense to each other's heart ; It is a shame that dews on flowerets met Should be dispersed by the casual wind ; It is a shame the sun should ever set, And rob the warm world of his kiss of fire ; That ever clouds before the stars should lower, And hold the earth from her intense desire Of gazing on her sister spheres above : But still these shames will be, and more than these, In this still-changing world ; and, therefore, Love Must bear his sorrows with enduring mind, Diving in his deep heart for sorrow's ease. 218 XXIX. A REPLY. " IIow canst thou ask to have long letters from me, When thou art far away ? My thoughts and hopes And dreamings thou still read'st with love-learn'd eye, And they change not ; that no variety May give relief to my heart-heavy words ; And thou wilt tire of sameness/' — So the birds Might to the lone Earth sing when spring is gone, Summer and autumn too, and winter opes His cold eyes o'er the world : but 'tis their voice, Piping to her lorn ear at intervals, That bids her in her lonely plight rejoice And dream on future greetings. Do not doom me To restless doubt ; but let the dew which falls From Love's full pen cheer my Life's floweret lone ! 219 XXX. THE EVE OF ABSENCE. Thou sittest silent amid strangers, Dear! And I am going far from thy fond heart : Thy cheeks are pale, and in thine eyes a tear Starts, and its orbed world is dim with sorrow ; For thou art musing on a blank to-morrow. But, cheating distance, let us still be near In waking thoughts and vivid dreams of love ; And from our heart's worn ark send memory's dove In search of rest from passion's sorrow-flood ! In body, not in soul, we wholly part ; And still our thoughts shall be right spiritual food, To feed the pining dotage which we bear Craving within our spirits. — Yet I moan ; Leaving thee sad, 'mid joy ; and in a crowd, alone, 220 XXXI. THE PENCILLED LETTER. " I am not o'ermuch charm'd with this same dwelling : How poor, to the rich memory of the past ! I have thy vow, that when night's shades are cast Over the world, thy far heart shall be swelling With thoughts of me and love. I need not tell How, dreaming, or wide-waking, I shall be For ever with thee. Ceaselessly I dwell On the drear pangs of utter desolation Which I must feel when thou art gone from me. And, oh ! I pant with fearful expectation Of our next greeting. Dearest ! love me still : I know new objects must thy spirit fill ; But yet, I pray thee, do not love me less. This write I where I dress. — Bless thee ! for ever, bless !" 221 THE ANSWER. 1. Here in my lone abode again I sit, With a tired heart, for ever toward thee yearning ; And visions of thee, in all aspects, flit Before my sleepy eyes, that cannot sleep, Kept open by my troubled mind's discerning. Through the long night sad vigils did I keep ; And spectres of thee, and imaginings, Were in me and around me. I did weep, To think on all thy love ; and all the grief Which must disturb thy spirit in its springs, After our hurried parting, when relief Of tears or sighs was by our state forbidden ; And our one heart w r as as a folded leaf In which oracular characters are hidden. 2. But, then; the thought — the deep, prophetic thought, That in this being we should meet again, 222 Did still the turbulent sorrow of my soul ; And my sweet hopes kiss'd thine — but had no fear ; For a triumphant flag did passion rear, That stream'd into the future, glory-fraught ! I cannot cease to love thee : though the chain Of this world is around me, its controul Is feeble ; for the powers of love and song Wave a magician's wand above my spirit, And sway me with a talisman divine Which I resist not : others may inherit My heart's wild perfume ; but the flower is thine. This read where thou didst write. — All blessings round thee throng ! t223 XXXII. THE TOKEN-FLOWERS. " I have been gazing on those eloquent flowers — The love-named ' heart's-ease' and i forget-me-not' — Which thou didst give me in those last sweet hours That beamed quick life before our death of parting. They are both withered ! — That the first should die, To my repining heart is nothing strange ; For never heart's ease fell to passion's lot In this woe-weary world, where chance and change Still drug joy's purest cup with misery. But my soul sighs, and to my eye is starting A thoughtful tear, to think the last must perish : Oh ! I would have it live until the hour When thy remembrance, Dear ! I cease to cherish — What an undying thing were then that sacred flower ! 224 XXXIII. A MYSTERY'S SOLUTION 1. " I cannot tell you why ; but ever when I'm most depressed in spirit, I still think Incessantly of you." — I'll tell thee why : When of affliction's cup our spirits drink, By the sad chances of the world fill'd high, They sink into the bosom's inmost cell, And from the feeling there most spiritual Draw solace, though great grief within it dwell — As the bee honey from the poison-flower. One object lurketh in the souls of men, Which still they look to with eternal eye, Outgazing death ! and with an unseen power It swayeth action ; 'tis the all-in-all That prompts the doings which men Madness call : 2. And by this moved — when sorrow, or annoyance Besets life's common path with weed and briar, That all surrounding things seem void of joyance And life a wretched clod 'twixt frost and fire — Thou turn'st for refuge to the only feeling Thou carriest with thee in all thoughts of heaven ; And love pervades thee, with a deep revealing Of dews and flowers, and meadows green and even, And gushing rivulets, and sunny vales, Inlaid with waving shadows, and calm nooks, And songs of birds and leaf-attuning gales ; All poetry of nature and of books, Of passion-minglings and communings sweet — ■ And on a far-off shore all thy heart's billows beat ! Q 226 xxxiv. PRESENCE. " To-day, continually — at least, in thought — Have you been my companion'' — O, that thought Could conjure what is real from the air, And place it, warm and living, in our arms ! Then had we clasp'd each other ; and repair Made to the shadows of the woods around, And reveli'd in the intermingling charms Of Nature's outward, Love's internal glory ! Yet there's a spiritual presence — in a sound, A bird, a flower, a leaf, poetic story — Of those with whom we've joy'd in them and love In the sweet past : there glows a memory Richly round all things, when the sacred dove Of Thought sits on the heart, brooding eternally. 2-27 XXXV. THE IMPOSSIBILITY. " Ere many years are o'er — when, it may be, We shall be almost strangers to each other" — I mark not what doth follow ; for there flee Thoughts toward my spirit which poor eyesight smother And prostrate outward sense to that within. We never can be strangers : in our being Each unto each is an eternal presence, That mingles with us in all grief, or pleasance, Breathes in our worship, sins in all our sin, Beats in our heart, and sees in all our seeing ! And what though death come, like a cloud, between us, And in the dust of graves our warm veins lie ? This but concerns the veil which here doth screen us From the soul-filling light of God's own eye. q 2 228 XXXVI, THE " AMEN." " Though thereby I do lose what more I prize Than all things else most dear to sense, or soul, Your heart's engrossing love ; yet do I pray That you may brighten on Fame's starry way, And reach in triumph that sky-templed goal To which for ever turn poetic eyes V — * Amen ! Amen !' — a fervent, loud c Amen !' Bursts from my lips, with all the wild sea's passion When it leaps high to clasp the thunder-storm ! And even now, whilst from my trembling pen My mind flows on my page, in fitful fashion, I seem to live in death in some dim form, Whose blood is even a voice ! Nor art thou wrong'd ; For thus thy being is with mine prolonged. 229 XXXVII. FIDELITY. Whene'er I play thee false, my distant lover ! And drink delight from other eyes than thine, Thine eyes start in the air, more bright than wine, And pour into my soul reproof divine ; And then in love-thoughts, like a lark in clover, My hush'd heart sweetly broods; and I repent me That e'er to do thee wrong I could content me. Whene'er I play thee false, my distant beauty ! From other lips than thine sweet nectar pressing, Between the ruby tempters to my treason, And mine, the traitors, do thy lips ope, blessing The air with balm ; and back to their dear duty Recal my senses and their absent reason ; And I am very faithful — for a season. 230 XXXVIII. THE MORTAL MUSE. O, thou, my Inspiration ! from afar Lighting my fancy, as the sun the star — Distance shades not thy glory from my sight ; But through the mediate air I drink thy light, And with the beam of thy reflected love Am kindled and instinct ! My thought doth move, In planetary state, through passion's sky, Around the sun-like centre of thine eye ; And, subtle made by that refining fire, Exhales in breath, which floateth o'er my lyre And stirreth the sweet concord of its springs, Till Poesy opes wide her rainbow-wings; And, through an universe of smiles and tears, Wafts to communion with the wild-voiced spheres ! 231 XXXIX. TO " THE CONSTELLATED FLOWER, THAT NEVER SETS.' Thou lowly flower ! be thou exalted ever; Sphered in the eternal arch of poesy ! For thou art a memorial, failing never, Of the heart's holiest throb in dreams gone by. Here, where the accursed tread of men-machines, Drill 'd to the art of slaughter, beats thee down — (And fit it is not that in martial scenes Thou shouldst lift up thy love-presiding crown) Here, where no eye but mine adores thy star ; No foot but mine to crush thy heart refuseth ; Thou to my spirit speak'st of meads afar, Till with a weight of love my bosom museth ; And with my Lady dear I bless the scene Where thy white constellations star the green. 232 XL. LOVE AND POESY. u I have not poesy; but I have love." Thou hast both poesy and love, dear Heart ! For Love is of himself a poesy. By his creative power a world is wove Of thoughts and dreams, that to his spectred eye A presence like reality impart ; Making the joy he loves, by his sweet art ! And what can heavenly Poesy do more ? All is a vision which she doth adore : Tine Poesy and Love are still the same ; Save that warm Love is happier, and perchance May substance find whereon to feed his flame, And purchase sigh with sigh and glance with glance ; But Poesy loves shadows, without place or name. 233 XLI. TO "THE PEARLED ARCTURI OF THE EARTH." 0, grace of meadows green and mossy banks ! Eternal Flower ! still constant to the Year ; When April with bright hair his forehead pranks, Or when his locks turn grey in winter drear. Blest be the hour I taught my Lady's heart To hold thy beauty in its inmost feeling ; To love thee better that thou humble art, And op'st thine eye with such a sweet revealing Of quiet joy ! for now she cannot stray Through field, or grove ; or lane, by hedge-rows green ; But she must greet thy pink lips, by the way — Thy white-ray 'd cirques of gold, for ever seen ! And thus her thoughts to me must still be turn'd, From whom the love she bears thy gem she learn'd. 234 XLII. OF THE POEMS OF SHAKSPEARE. What ? tear away that poesy divine Of Venus and her Boy — sweet purple flower ! On whom she doted with a love like thine For him whose heart beats at that wondrous song ? Of gentle Lucrece and her cruel wrong ? The Passionate Pilgrim's tears ? — a rainbow-shower ! And the fair Lover's eloquent Complaint? As full of fine thought as a hive of honey, When the sweet bees fulfil their labours sunny ! O, leave such outrage to the dismal saint ; To man and woman that in secret sin, And fear earth more than heaven : but do not thou Assume the hypocrite, and basely win A crown of seeming for thy truth-fair brow ! 235 XLIII. TO ELECTRA. As that Philosopher of regions cold, Too idly dallying with the etherial tire The Trans-Atlantic from its cloudy hold Taught to unloose, did in its power expire ; The martyr of an infinite desire To unveil secrets high ; so I, approaching Too nigh the electric force of beauteous eyes, Suffer the penalty of that encroaching, And in their fluid light my spirit dies ! Oh ! fan it back to life with thy sweet sighs ; Or loose thy long locks o'er me, as the moon Spreads her soft rays over a flower asleep ; That I may waken from this tranced swoon, And into life again, rekindled, leap ! 236 XLIV. THE HEART- F AVOURITE, As in the capitals of Scythian kings Abode more sacred and distinguished grew The nigher it approached the sovereign view, So nearness to thy beauty honour brings. The slave that dwells within thy gaze afar Doth pride him on that distant preference ; And who thy vision quite forbidden are Holds dark as reptiles in a forest dense. Oh ! then, to what advancement am I raised, Who in the palace of thy heart abide ! And marvel none that, with a favourite's pride, On outer suitors I in scorn have gazed : Yet fear not I, as baser minions do, Slander the love whence I my greatness drew. 237 XLV. LOVE-WORSHIP. When I do hear my Love's most holy name Blasphemed by vulgar and degenerate lips, My heart is moved with a pious shame That words profane should heavenliest shrines eclipse Then burn I with a votary's indignation ; And, with the fervour of my faith elate, Would force those ministers of desecration With blood my deity propitiate ! Yet would a stream so foul pollute her altar, Where love is sole-accepted sacrifice ; Therefore my hand refrains, my speech doth falter ; I leave them to the curse of their device : Who worships spirit needs not war, indeed, On dull idolaters, to prove his creed. 238 XLVI. CONTENTMENT. " If I dared write all I do feel and think, You would be satisfied/' — What is the chain That binds thine eloquence to passion's brink ? O, cast it in the flood ! It cannot sink Upon that buoyant tide ; but there may rain Eternal freshness, from its floating pinions, Over my thirsty heart and feverish brain. Yet, words are but the fancy's airy minions, Bearing no substance in their picturings vague ; And I with air could not be satisfied, Which but contributes pestilence to plague : But when lips' speech mute lips have ratified, And our hearts' music is intensely blent, I'll lay me on thy lap, and cry— t Content ! 239 xlvii. THE MANDATE. O, my sweet spirit ! to my sadness come ; Or, from the distant beauty of thy home, Send me some comfort ; for, indeed, my days In the deep longing for immortal praise Die mournfully : I tremble, sigh and weep ; And melancholy ghosts still haunt my sleep, Of men whose tortures were high aspirations ; From which I wake to spectral contemplations Of the dim future, and draw nothing thence But unconvincing, shadowy conclusions ; Nor can the present firmer thoughts dispense ; And the dead time recedeth in delusions. O, come ! come sweetly ; on my heart to lie, Balming its depths with thy dear charity ! '240 XLVIII. THE TEA It. There is a sweet salt in thy kisses, Dear ! That dwells upon the lips like ocean-foam Dropp'd from the whirling airs : what wandering tear Hath left the palace of its orbed home ; Straying from crystal, over wan carnation, Unto thy rich mouth's curving almandine, Where half its dew is ministered to mine In our fix'd greeting's balmy implication ? Be it the herald of a tempest-shower, Enclouded in the heaven of thy heart ; Or but a summer-drop, which the warm power Of love doth to the air of sighs impart ; Like a true Bacchant will I drink it up, Keeping my mad lips glued upon the cup ! •241 XLIX. THE FROZEN HEART. What frost o' the world hath thus congeal'd to ice The once warm love-tide of my Lady's heart, That now she stands upon decorum nice And fences her true nature with false art ? Some jealous one hath lied into her ear, Accusing me of treason and deceit ; And this her coldness is still-born of fear ? Or, haply, my best words sound not so sweet As when my lips, by hers made eloquent, Sigh'd May-morn love about her, dew'd with gladness ; For now I live with a less fond intent, My life by death-thoughts being steepVl in sadness ? Yet do I think that, with one favouring minute, I could unfrost that heart, and bathe my passion in it ! 242 L. THE DELUSION. Can Love's eye be deceived ? There's but one Sun In Heaven ; and he who when that Sun 's away Still sees the Sun, is sure of sense bereaved ! My Lady is afar : and as her own There's no such face of beauty i' the world ; Yet beams it near me, glorious as a star Triumphant on the forehead of the Dawn ! Is it delusion, on my false eye drawn ? Or, like a spirit, is she omnipresent, Flattering the world with her ubiquity Whose presence even in absence I inherit ? I will not speak : it is ; and it is not ! Mine eyes w r ould cheat my heart into a folly ; And w T hat exists not, to create they seek. 243 LI. LOVE'S WINTER. The springtide and the budding and the dew Of our sweet love soon past; but summerless It went, and immatured ; its buds, untrue, Came not to flower or fruit of perfectness ; And the rich balm of its most vernal state Hung frozen in a winter desolate : So was its bursting freshness check'd and blighted ; And cold overcasts the sphere where we delighted To prophesy of summer ecstasies, Gathering our hopes from warm lips and fond eyes, Clasp'd hands, and interchanged sympathies That drew our hearts together. All is o'er ! To the Earth's frost come primaveral skies ; But to Love's winter spring returns no more. R 2 244 LII. BUD AND BLOSSOM. My thoughts are with thee, Dear One ! — Vale and hill Are shaded into slumber ; and the Night Seems gathered in itself — it is so still ! Darkness devours the clouds, in her broad flight From east to west ; and that most silent hour Which so to Heaven the guilty Spirit bringeth That from its depths an " Alleluia" springeth, Now fills grey Time's old glass, and with its power Lures me to love-dreams of thy babe and thee. I see her smiling on thy cradle-knee : Her lips from thy fond bosom just withdrawn ; And thine enamour'd eyes o'er her eyes bent (A bud and blossom in one sweetness blent !) Hailing thine own life in its second dawn. 245 LIII. THE STARS OF SLEEP. Her eyes have shone through all the blessed night, Deep-dwelling in my love-infixed soul ; That death-blind Sleep became a thing of sight, And bright flowers from the desert darkness stole. And as in Heaven's midnight solitude, When in her vapourous mantle Air reposeth, One silver planet, with the sun imbued, A joy-like light upon the gloom discloseth ; In the hush'd wilderness of clouded slumber, Those eyes, into my brain's oblivion peering, Unfolded visions which to name or number Were to unveil all secrets that should lie In the heart's Holy-of-Holies, not appearing To the base conscience of one vulgar eye. 246 LIV. HEART -REBELLION NEEDED AGAINST THE WORLD. Hold up thy head, Sweet Friend ! Be not cast down ! What is 't to us whether men smile, or frown ? Upon each other's life and love we've built A regal tower, wherein our crown'd hearts dwell Upon one throne, all unassailable By the democracy of base Opinion ! Be not self-humbled, Love ! Virtue and guilt Are words misunderstood. The World's dominion Is one stern tyranny o'er human hearts, Which they must strive against ; or ever lie In dungeons of great grief, where petty arts Of petty souls, whose grace is cruelty Worse than their hate, shall with a thousand stings Torture away sweet Life, and all the Love it brings ! 247 LV. THE TAINTED. The contact of base minds and their discourse Have tainted thy clear spirit, gentle Lady ! And Common Being, with its sluggish force, Hath overgrown thy Purer Soul's existence ; As in the silence of a spring-bank shady A bramble hides a wild-flower : and the distance That ever lay between thee and the grossness Of the vain world and its self-drawn moroseness, Is lessening day by day, to my much sorrow. Yet, from one thought do I that comfort borrow Which holds me from despairing of thy soul : Clouds of the world on thy heart's clearness fall ; But wilful memories thou canst not controul, Of an untold delight, must keep thee spiritual. 248 LVI. T HE MISGIVIN G. That such rich strains of powerful poesy, Feeding, as feed they must, thy living sense With sumptuous banquetings of memory, Should not have call'd one word of feeling thence, Of tongue, or pen, hath left me in amaze At the inconstancy of fervent blood, Which ebbs and flows like any moon-ruled flood, And never runs full-channel for an hour ! Is it my sin, or others' flattering praise, That hath divested of its urgent power The Verse which once to drink and to devour Thine eyes and heart were ever famishing ? — Well ! 1 have other themes ; and many a string To tune thereto, dear Churl ! — Love is an idle thing, 249 LVII. REMINISCENCES. 1. Thou art not here, although I talk to thee, Save in thy mystic presence in my heart : Thou art not here, as thou didst vow to be ; That cast I am on my creative art, Thy beauty all about me to impart And load the air with thy tongue's melody ! There is a mighty heaving of the Spring; And birds and flowers and leaves are homage paying To Nature, in her young-love conquering Of the iced blood of the Old Winter, playing Himself to death in her fresh, sunny arms ! But, in thine absence, these song-luring charms Cannot my sight to any fixure bring : Mine eyes see thee alone — in vain imagining. 250 2. As from my brain emerging, thou art here ! O, Planet ! leapt from out a winter-cloud Which the winds strike and kill ! how summer-dear To my heart's long storm-shaken atmosphere Is thy dew-balmy light ! Now, Spring is proud ! And thee in her and her in thee I view And hear, in all the heaven of sound and hue ! O, God ! it is the trust and love within That give the glory to thy handiwork ! Dear ! the World lies when, garrulous of Sin, Our lives from their best living it would irk : With thee to love, my Faith's sweet Origin ! I worship God, and am a Spirit indeed ; Without thee, on the thorns of disbelief I bleed ! 251 LVIII. AN EXPOSITION. How is it, in thine Absence, Dearest One ! That in so many features limn'd I see Thy features' likeness ; but their like in none When thy sweet Presence is glad life to me ? 'Tis thus why thus it is : When thou art vanished From my love-dazed sight, the bright impression Winch there thy beauty makes, thence is not banish'd ; But still upon mine orbs holds throned session, And upon others' faces soft-reflected Invests them with a lurement not their own ; Making me covet that were else neglected By Love which doth disloyalty disown ! But when thine aspect on mine eyes doth ride, It shineth so, I'm blind to all beside. 252 LIX. AN AGONY. O, God ! the agony of Memory ! O, sweetness of the Past ! no more to be ! The same clear stream between the same green meads Flows with the self-same voice ! O, that clear mirror ! Into whose depths of glory, Heaven's reflex, We look'd with weeping eyes, that did not weep ; But though our tears within their fountains deep Were dam'd, our eyelids seem'd as sadly weeping. All, all the same ! save season's difference. But where, and what is she ? O, spectral terror ! That shows her of the Dead ! O, pang intense ! O, weavings of the brain and heart complex ! O, Life ! that only on its dead joy feeds ! O, God ! if Death should be a dreaming Sleeping ? 25:3 LX. LOVE THAT CALCULATES. Love is not love, that coldly calculates The chances of the fire on which it feeds : Whenever Passion reasons, it abates, And grows a miser of its liberal deeds. No niggard is a lover : she who swears To be forbearing in her heart's sweet alms, Dishonoureth the livery which she wears ; And breathe th a dull air, whose touch becalms The spirit on the deep of its great yearning, Or that part playeth which to Love's discerning Is seeming, merely — to be full-forgiven, Because that falsehood is of falsehood born ; And that the world hath on Love's forehead riven His crown of Truth, with its vile hand of scorn ! 254 LXI. LOVE'S ADMIRATION. Love's Admiration is not loud, but deep; By all it speaks not, known ; not all it speaketh : To outward eye it doth nor smile nor weep ; To outward ear is dumb, nor once outbreaketh In chorus with glad thousands clamouring In joy's too ostentatious triumphing : But, fathomless, within its own great heart, Intense delight unutterably seeketh Communion with its life-blood — smiles and tears And gratulation and sublime acclaim Felt, seen and heard ! — a touch of ether-flame, Poetic vision and high songs o' the spheres ! Love's Admiration is of Love a part ; And burns i' the sacred silence which endears. 255 LXII. THE RIVALR Y. Ah ! Sweet Creatrix of that World of Sound That vibrates on my ever-listening ear, And all my sense pervades with such profound And self-infusing power, that every vein And every nerve within my quivering frame Seem in true chorus to repeat again, Again, and yet again, the gushings clear, Flowing and pulsing, of its harmony ! The heavenly might of thine enchanted fingers Hath nowhere its true like, or rivalry ; Save on those lips of thine, when dewy flame, Ascending from the heart, upon them lingers ; And, drawn into my soul with thy warm breath, Melts all the heart of life to liquid death ! '250 LXIII. " THE CHORD-OF-THE-DOMINANT. V " i O, do !' and c Will you not?' and such sweet phrases, So utter'd, strike a chord of my rapt soul, Which, like the chord-o'-the-dominant, mast be At once resolved into firm repose ; Or else it pants and writhes through all the mazes Of violated music painfully, And no calm rest of consummation knows In haven of contented harmony. O, cunning of a master-hand control ! — ' O, do !' and 6 Will you not V make perfect tune In me, of love thy breathing instrument ; The music of thy playing eloquent ! The stricken with the striker doth agree, And all the intricate notes into each other swoon !" 257 LXIV. A MOTHER TO PIER NEW-BORN CHILD. " Sweet cry ! as sacred as the blessed Hymn Sung at Christ's birth by joyful Seraphim ! Exhausted nigh to death by that dread pain, That voice salutes me to dear life again. Ah, God ! — my Child ! my first, my living Child ! I have been dreaming of a thing like thee Ere since, a babe, upon the mountains wild, I nursed my mimic babe upon my knee. In girlhood I had visions of thee ; love Came to my riper youth, and still I clove Unto thine image, born within my brain ; So like ! — as even there thy germ had lain ! — My blood ! my voice ! my thought ! my dream achieved ! O, till this double life, I have not lived !" TEMPORAL! A. POEMS AND SONNETS. s 2 261 I. THE THREE GREAT DAYS. TO THE FRENCH. (written in august, 1830.) 1. High Pharos of the Nations! Helice Of those that navigate the unslumbering sea Whose billows waft, through tempest and through terror, Unto the golden shores of Liberty ! Your beacon and your star again are burning ; A guide to enterprise, a sign to error ; And those Saturnian times, anew returning, Life's antique heart make strong and young As Hebe's when from Air she sprung ! The Kingdoms gaze on ye, and pant for breath ; Grey Superstition trembles ; Old Tyranny is gloating on his death ; And the world's hope resembles The dark sky's, when the free wind speaks aloud, And constellations leap from every cloud ! 262 2. Ye have been hiving wisdom from the Past : Your freedom's harvest old was overcast By showers that deluged it with freedom's blood ; But from that gory feast this afterpast Of holy joy and temperate revel cometh ; The plenty, not repletion, of whose food Gives to pale Liberty the health that bloometh. Your deeds unto the kindling Nations Shall be, as solemn inspirations Unto the Poet's and the Prophet's heart ! Ye have erased the stains Ye and your sires did to her cause impart ; And now alone remains The glory of her beauty undefiled, To shame the dotards that too long reviled. 3. Like strong Tirynthius, ye but ascended The burning pile your madness had upblended — And died on Liberty's Nemeean pillow ! To rise again, with vision more extended, And commune closely with the powers of Heaven. Now, now, the impulse to that thundering billow 263 Whose foam shall strike the Nations, hath been given ! Tis salt upon the lips of Spain ; The Lusian drinks the glorious rain ; The Islands and the Ghost of buried Rome Feel their locks wet withal : Its echoes fill the everlasting dome; And rock to rock doth call Of living heart, with an awaken'd mirth — Tis ye have struck this spirit from the Earth ! 4. America and England, each to other, Greet the regeneration of a brother ; For the Isle's King, as yours, is Freedom's guard ! And o'er the wave sal ate they one another : — " We are our people's Chief, but not their Master ; " We rule in love, and love is our reward !" The cement of your strength is past disaster : The freedom ye have dearly earn'd Shall not again be overturn 'd By democrat's blood-quaffing violence : If Anarchy arise, > J * ? ? ?— March, 1835. 264 Whose rage would blind the sacred innocence That beams in Freedom's eyes. With tears of gore, excite her infant strength To stretch the writhed snake at innocuous length ! O, holy Battailers in that contention, Of Myriads to strike down the Few's pretension, Which still hath been the birthdom of the world ! Ye have wrought bravely for the bright extension Of each man's influence in his own behoof : And Right's proud banner shall no more be furl'd As heretofore ; but underneath the roof Of million-tinted air and heaven, With suns and planets densely paven Whose aspect prompteth Liberty's strong panting, It shall wave high for ever ! Her seeds of amaranth Great Mind is planting, With infinite endeavour, Thick in the human heart's unfathom'd soil ; Whose blooms no solemn drones hereafter shall despoil! 6. Your triumph in this Verse be high-recorded ! The tottering Despot's scabbard was unsworded, 265 To strike at Liberty's uplifted arm ; And some few tyrant slaves their aid afforded To wield the weapon that must crush the striker, Turn'd on himself by her repelling charm. He smote : ye rose indignantly ; and, liker To storm and earthquake than to mortal In rapid power, from her arm'd portal Struck mail'd Oppression, with one gush of blood ! Who are the mighty now ? The Bourbon stoops, a mendicant for food ! Upon his uncrown'd brow Sit thoughts of curses from his desolate heirs ; Whilst bitter scorn laughs loud in the supervolant airs, 7. The thunder of your great deliverance roll'd Over the hills of Fame : she heard and told, The lightning of her spirit round her flashing, Of feminine limbs and babes, as manhood bold, Wearing the armour of your retribution ; The base male recreants of the earth abashing : And stripling boyhood framing the confusion Of rage, just bursting wrong's old border, Into sublime, consummate order : Of cruelty and wrath and selfishness To depths A vernal vanish'd ; 266 And perfect Freedom, folded in the tress Of Love ; and Memory banish'd From a grieved Nation's heart, save that sufficient To sceptre Wisdom on her throne omniscient. 8. As sunbeams play above the heated shingle, The rays of Freedom glowingly did tingle Over your shores, with swift, tremescent motion, And in a blaze of light electric mingle ! One mighty waste of wild and writhing foam — An agony of tempest — was your ocean : Until its sullen barriers, overcome, Left it to flow in gentle state ; And none could deem a storm so late Had cleft it to its undermost foundations ! Ye have enforced the world Into a labyrinth of contemplations ; Which soon, unintertwuTd, Must open to the light of human glory ; When Earth shall gaze on Life from Freedom's promontory. 9. Succeed to farms legitimate dullards may As long as clods are clods ; but not to sway 267 And privileges over nobler spirits : That fashion from the world shall die away ; And ye have set the signet to that fiat ! The lessons ye have taught old Time inherits, To wean the Future from subjection's quiet. As the wing'd wind unto the sea, To Mind shall your example be ; Urging on high the waters of her splendour, Whose tempest Love assuages; But to whose curbed force must slow surrender The tyranny of ages Enrock'd around them : Despots stand aghast In their high towers, which shake in Freedom's thunderblast ! 10. A solemn voice is heard immurm urate From the oppressed Lands Peninsulate, Caught from the tempest of your exultation ! The heart of Europe beats in high debate In the full senate-house of Liberty ; And to your eloquent lip breathes confirmation Which, passed some brooding years, shall burst on high ! The American hath kindled long Pure fires upon her altars strong ; 268 The Asian and the Afric hear her pinions Striking the air afar, And view her deep eye fiVd on their dominions — A clear, though distant, star ! That full orb from Life's World all darkness shall disperse ; Those gorgeous plumes enfold our Human Universe ! 269 II. FRANCE. the 27th, 28th and 29th OF JULY, 1830. France, from intemperate waking, fell asleep ; And mortal demons did oppress her slumber With chains, from which she could not disencumber Her numb'd and feverish limbs : they still did keep Their heavy hands upon her troubled heart ; And as she shrank beneath them, twisted tighter The bands that fetter'd her gigantic members ; Till, shrieking, from her drunken trance she woke ! Howling, the demons of her slumber fled ; she broke Their iron chains like threads ; the holy embers Upon her freedom's hearth rekindled brighter, And played again an unforgotten part. Be taught, O, Kings ! Millions before the One ! Time from great knowledge hath great wisdom won. 270 in. " R EFORM-BI L L " II Y M N S. l. THE "NEWSPAPER." It goeth forth, an instrument of power, Ruling and ruled by Great Society ; Noting the human business of the hour, With retrospection far, and prophecy ; Showing the world the world, and to the tide Of Time its own vast flowings — self-supplied ! A wondrous and a mighty Thing it is, Speaking to distant millions as to near ; Rousing all passions and all sympathies, And forcing the earth's space to disappear By its connecting course o'er all the lands, Which makes the globe's antipodes shake hands ! Before its all-detecting, all-proclaiming And all-truth-telling voice, the Tyrant's throne And the bald Bigot's altar, heavenward flaming With fires derived from hell, quiver and groan ; 271 For it is clothed in liberty and light, And casts destroying sun-shafts through their night ! Hail it, ye stirring Millions ! as your Saver From the Old Law of Things, that kept ye under The foot-tread of the Few — as the way-paver To your redemption-goal ! And, of its thunder Ye who sit throned the Joves invisible, Use the mighty weapon well ! Hide it not in cloudy sphere Of pale apathy, or fear ; But, ever let its radiant bolts be hurl'd Against the Giant Ills that still bestride the World ! 2. A SONG OF THE PEOPLE. The Hoary Dotard, Aristocracy, Shakes in his crumbling palace-halls ; for, hark ! On the broad Ocean of Democracy Floats Liberty, prepared to disembark On her predestin'd strand, This English land ! 272 In glory, o'er a world of tribulation, She raiseth her bright banner — as the Sun O'er elouds and storms ascendeth burningly — And, with a loud and multitudinous voice, The millions of the congregated Nation (Myriad-lipp'd ; but its great hearts as one !) Rejoice ! They fear ! The Few who on our lives have fed — The Tramplers on the Many — turn in dread ! And we, the mighty People, to regain Our stolen birthright have not wrought in vain — We live ! we live, again ! Still bloodless be the sword we draw, To make our lawful wills the law O'er dull Convention, Tyranny and Wrong, Made by the Ignorance of Ages strong ! No gory weapon will we deign to wield, Drenching with brother-blood our brother's held ; Dungeons and chains, death-blocks and torturings Shall vanish from the world with Slaves and Kings We fiyjit to conquer and convert our Foes ; Not use them bloodily ! From Freedom flows Nor human tears, nor human gore : With spiritual weapons for things spiritual 273 The living Many battle, as of yore Did here and there some solitary Sage, The one soul-beacon of his mindless Age ! For Knowledge now on myriad wings From the Press, self-plumed, springs And floats around us all ! We have not striven in vain Against the tyrant-chain ! They fear ! The Few who on our lives have fed The Tram piers on the Many — turn in dread ! We live ! we live, again ! 3. TO THE PEERS. Some golden bubbles, in the unquiet air (Creations of a Childish Fantasy !) Floating, I saw : lo ! bare arms muscular Approached them ; and two hands — like Destiny Crushing old worlds — destroy'd them utterly. Slight sun-hatched creatures, in the calmness veering Which did precede the storm, as though their fans Of down were eagle-pinions, nothing fearing T 274 The assured coming of the hurricanes, I saw, and pitied for their vain careering : The mighty winds came on, and mightier storms, And whirFd into the dust their insect-forms. Bubbles and butterflies of men ! — Ye Peers ! — Make for yourselves a safety in your fears ! 4. TO THE COMMONS, AT THEIR SQUABBLES. What is 't ye do, Dull Spiders ! darkly weaving The web of your poor passions in the corners Of your old Chamber, for the vile deceiving Of idle fools, making the wise your scorners ; When all your words should be as songs of day From bees and birds, all-cheering and intense With peaceful power and thrilling influence Over the listening world ? Unto the Mass Who toil with head or hand, what boot the feuds That furnish gabble to your heated moods, When truth runs o'er with wine, and shows ye — liars ! We must have answer to our great desires For Social Progress ; or we force the way, And o'er ye, as a mighty whirlwind, pass ! 275 5. TO THE HIERARCHY. Thou hast not built thy house upon the rock Of Christ and his Good-Tidings, thou proud Thing, Self-baptized with the name of " Hierarchy" ! But on the sand of this world's vanishing ; Wherefore, it shall not brave the coming shock Of Truth and Knowledge, in their flowings high Up the vast banks of Time ; but, undermined, Must shake, and great shall be the fall thereof. Thy title is usurp'd, swollen Hierarchy ! " Chief of the Sacred" art thou not; for, know That not with Mammon and his rust, below, Abideth Sacredness, whose mansion-roof Archeth the Universe ! — O, Base-of-Mind ! Thou in the Church of Christ hast dug a gluttonous stye 6. T O MY COUNTRY. England ! that in thy confidence of power Dost lie like guarded sleep — keep wide thine eyes ! t 2 276 Time on his grey wing bears a whirlwind hour, That shall make chaff of all thy vanities : But of that scattering, whether smiles or sighs Shall be the issue, doth depend on thee — Awake, old Country ! from thine apathy ; And, gentle Mother ! make thine Offspring blest With more of equal plenty and sweet rest Than is their dowry now, that they may feel A filial heart-beat for their Parent's weal : Let not a few wax gross with luxury, Whilst thousands famish on one scanty meal — Old Parent, wake ! and hear thy Children's cry. 277 IV. THE BIRD AND CHILD. 1. A Lady with an eye most mild And lips as beautiful as closing flowers Was the young mother of a child Whose prattle made the pastime of her hours. 2. She in a cottage dwelt, whose thatch Was oft the perch of a melodious bird, Which seem'd that infant's glee to watch, And piped sweet songs whene'er its voice was heard. 3. Death touch'd the child, that it was dying, And by it the pale mother moaning lay ; And the bird ever had been flying Around the thatch, but voiceless all the day. 278 4. And when the gentle infant died. Ere scarce the breath from its blue lips was gone, The bird trill'd one brief song in pride — Flew far, and never to return was known. 5. The mother sorrowed, and went mad — And often in her phrensy this would say : — " It is the bird that makes me sad, " For with my sweet child's soul it flew away." 27!) V. A SONG. 1. A lady put to sea, Nor thought of wind and tide ; But soon dismay 'd was she — And, " bear me back V } she cried 2. Another (or the same) Took boat in a balloon ; But when to a cloud she came, Must needs with terror swoon. 3. And whether these fair voyagers Arrived at worlds unknown ; Or got back safe to land, the dears ! I cannot tell, T own. 280 4. But 'tis most like they perish'd In the dread depths which they braved, With thoughts for all they cherish'd, Or would — had they been saved. 5. O, Ladies ! never trust To water, or to air ; Where swim, or sink, ye must, And go — the gods know where ! 281 VI. GAL.VU8.* Bald Mortal ! thou dost ape the Skeleton That satirizes man and all his doings, From every open'd grave; and shouldst seem one, But for the glow-worm which is in thine eyes, And certain airs that from thy lips arise. Why, now to see thee at thine amorous cooings, * The above Sonnet having been put into the hands of Mr. Leigh Hunt, at the period of his editorship of " The Tatler " (a journal which conferred a new grace upon its adopted name) he did it the honour to accompany it in that publication with the following jocular (?) " An- swer," under the appropriate signature of" Calviultor" : — " I've got my wig : — and now, thou rash Hirsutus, Crinitus, Whiskerandos, Ogre, Bear, Or whatsoever title please thine hair, Why vex the bald ? Why loveless thus repute us ? Sweet Shakspeare, omni nectare imbutus, Was bald ; and he, the wise beyond compare, Socrates, teacher of the young and fair ; And Caesar, victim of a natural Brutus ! Fresh is the bald man's head ; for love so apt, That England's gallants, in her wittiest time, In voluntary baldness, velvet- capp'd, Through reams of letters urged then amorous rhyme : Then issued forth, peruked ; and o'er their shoulders From cv'ry curl shook loves at all the fair beholders." 282 Or gravely preaching Immortality, To which thy living death's-head gives the lie, Would make the Shadow that all Life receiveth Shake his dim sides with horrible derision. Tell us, old Calvus ! what about thee cleaveth, To make distinction still between the vision Of a death's-head and thine ? Get thee false hair, For thy sole privilege to upper air ! 283 VII. TO A MALIGNANT PERSON Poor rogue ! I pity thee ; but do not blame : The spirit which is in us must have scope ; The toad must spit its venom — thou the same ! The hangman were a jest without his rope ; And thou without thy spleen were a disdain To the recoiling world. I should as soon, Having my reason clear, vent angry thought On flies, for stinging in the summer-noon, Flesh vexing with the pettiness of pain ; On worms, for living in the dirt and crawling ; On swine, for wallowing in the mire ; on aught Most foul of all things filthy, for appalling The delicate nostril's sense, as blame on thee, For glutting thy soul's life— thy deep malignity ! 284 VIII. THE PHAETONS OF KNOWLEDGE. Still, still they prate! and common-place opinion Utter on themes abstruse, whose comprehension Hath long defied the mightiest dominion Of the great minds of Earth, to whose dimension Theirs are as bats to eagles ! — Get ye home ! Search all the lore o' the past; and then, walk forth, And air your damp wits by the Ocean-foam ! Study from east to west, from south to north, And tell us to what end your labours come ! Phaetons of Knowledge ! ye the reins essay As if ye were indeed fit charioteers To guide her wheels of glory through the spheres ! Refrain ! — Eat, love, and die ! or sport, or pray ! But with your shadows pave not Thought's bright way ! 285 IX. "PUBLISHING." O, dull mechanic means ! — the only means — Since Minstrel-harp and chant have pass'd away, And we are fall'n on other modes and scenes — By which to current make the Poet's lay ! O, that the godly human utterance Of centred thought and interchanged feeling Might the great Music of the Spheres enhance; And, in the Vast of Space for ever pealing, Go sounding onward through the Universe ! For, then ; though deaf as now the Mortal Millions To all the mystic harmonies of Verse ; The Stars and Birds, in their serene pavilions, And all sweet things that heavenly music make, Would listen — for their Fellow-Singers' sake ! FINIS. LONDON : PRINTED BY T. C. SAVILL (LATE HARJETTE AND SAVILL) 107, ST. MARTIN'S LANE. THE FOLLOWING DRAMAS (PRICE 2s. EACH) BY THE SAME AUTHOR, MAY ALSO BE HAD OF MR. JOHN MILLER, 13, HENRIETTA -STREET, COVENT - GARDEN • And of all Booksellers* WOMAN'S LOVE; OR, THE TRIUMPH OF PATIENCE A Comedy ; in Five Acts. Second Edition. THE JEW OF ARRAGON; OR, THE HEBREW QUEEN: A Tragedy ; in Five Acts. Both, as performed at the Theatre Royal, Covent- Garden