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 A DIVAN OF THE DALES 
 
Cornell University 
 Library 
 
 The original of tliis book is in 
 the Cornell University Library. 
 
 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31 92401 3556828 
 
A DIVAN OF THE DALES 
 
 MICAH 
 
 AND 
 
 OTHER POEMS 
 
 BY 
 
 SWITHIN SAINT SWITHAINE 
 
 iiont)on 
 
 DIGBY, LONG & CO., PUBLISHERS 
 
 1 8 Bouverie Street, Fleet Street, E.G. 
 
 ^^ 
 
A.» "i o^^no 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Song, i 
 
 There is a music of the spheres. 
 
 Proem, 2 
 
 I bring a hand of fruits and flowers. 
 
 Dedication, 4 
 
 O thou that servest God always. 
 
 MiCAH, 5 
 
 There is more hatred in the earth. 
 
 OTHER POEMS 
 Life at Play, 32 
 
 The voice of Spring re-echoes o'er. 
 
 A Summer Ditty, 36 
 
 Sunny, silken-robW Summer. 
 
 The Fall of the Year, 39 
 
 The great world spins and ever rounds. 
 
 A Winter Warble, 42 
 
 The sheep are in the fold. 
 
 A Fisher's Bride, 45 
 
 A maid, who would have been a bride. 
 
 OCEANUS, 48 
 
 A voice like thunder breaks upon the deep. 
 
viii CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 DULIA, 5° 
 
 spirits of the starward flight. 
 
 Opportunity, 51 
 
 As in a vision of the night. 
 
 An Agape, S3 
 
 Behold ! I dreamed that Love. 
 A New Year Rhyme, -55 
 
 1 wish thee much. 
 
 Alice, 56 
 
 O Alice of the golden curls. 
 
 AUSTER, 57 
 
 Breathe, Auster, from the South. 
 
 The Nightingale, 59 
 
 Hist ! from the silver lips of Night. 
 
 A Banquet of Love, 61 
 
 Adown a sweet, wild orchard-grove. 
 Creation's Psalm, 63 
 
 A deep-bassed, thunder-rolling psalm. 
 Time's Appeal to Eternity, 64 
 
 Eternal light ! 
 ViNUM VlTiE, 65 
 
 Earth binds her brows with flowering wreaths. 
 
 Cella, 67 
 
 My love, ray Cella, lieth dead. 
 
 The Ages of Man, 69 
 
 The life of raan is as a day. 
 
 DUAD, 71 
 
 The cottage rocks ; the bellowing blast. 
 
 The Dawn of Love, 75 
 
 Love in the fair soul of a dreaming girl. 
 
CONTENTS ix 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Summer, 76 
 
 Sweet Summer, fair young queen and goddess, crowned] 
 
 Vox HoMINUM, 77 
 
 God sent a man upon the Earth. 
 
 Will o' the Wisp, 80 
 
 Stone-eyed, conceited, babbling Ignorance. 
 
 Evening BY THE Sea, 81 
 
 The West is tinged with blood and gold. 
 Vyrge, ,. . .83 
 
 Vyrge was belovfed by the gods. ' 
 May, .84 
 
 Delicious damsel, cherry-cheekfed maid. 
 England, 85 
 
 England, thou hold'st the trident of the sea. 
 
 James Abram Garfield, 86 
 
 He loved his fellow-man ; his heart could claim. 
 December, 87 
 
 December's here again : the dun, bleak ground. 
 Snow, 88 
 
 The snow falls fast ; the full, low-hanging sky. 
 
 Vita atque Mors, 89 
 
 And what is life that we should wish to give. 
 
 Manhood, 90 
 
 Fools make the length of birth the rule. 
 
 Genius, 91 
 
 Immortal genius comes in flesh and bone. 
 
 Evening at the Well 92 
 
 The day now slowly wanes. 
 
 A Birthday Chime, 96 
 
 O bells in the old minster tower. 
 
X CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 The Kisses of Love, 98 
 
 He kissed her pretty petalled lips. 
 Epitaph, 100 
 
 Here sleepeth one of womankind. 
 Wordsworth, 102 
 
 Wordsworth, thou wert a king of men. 
 
 The Fellowship of Men, . . . • loS 
 
 God first formed man, and made. 
 Lincoln, 108 
 
 Lincoln, what name is like to thine ? 
 
 Washington, 110 
 
 O, first-born of a noble race. 
 
 The Music OF Death, 112 
 
 The year her distaff takes and weaves. 
 
 The Poet, 114 
 
 In moody silence through the world. 
 
 The Prophet, 116 
 
 ' I Am hath sent me unto you.' 
 
 Ode TO England IN HER Isolation, . . . .118 
 England, be calm ; thou hast not cause for fear. 
 
 Armenia, izc 
 
 From out the East there comes a cry. 
 
 Turkey, . . . . ' 122 
 
 Turkey, thy doom hangs on the lips of Fate. 
 
 God Save Armenia, 124 
 
 God save Armenia crying. 
 
 The Concert OF THE Powers, . . . . 126 
 
 There is a roaring nightmare in the West. 
 
 The Old Turk, 127 
 
 The Old Turk is a devil. 
 
CONTENTS 
 The Murderer, 
 
 His hand is redder than a rose. 
 
 The Cry of Crete, 
 
 Little Greece, big with heroic deeds. 
 
 Greece, 
 
 Queen of the Orient ! classic in descent. 
 
 YiLDiz Kiosk, 
 
 There is a Golden Palace in the East. 
 
 The Golden Horn, 
 
 The Golden Horn o'erruns with blood. 
 
 England in the Concert of the Powers, 
 
 England, with all thy liberty. 
 God, Let the Sick Man Die ! . 
 
 God, let the Sick IMan die ! 
 Integrity, . . - . 
 
 Integrity ! How can a Sick Man live. 
 The Second Death, .... 
 
 Seamen of Europe, hang the Christ. 
 The Ancient of Days, .... 
 
 The four winds fight on the great sea. 
 A Parable, 
 
 Six Thieves once bound them in a league. 
 
 Moloch, 
 
 The waste grows thick. 
 
 Kbsla, The Witch, 
 
 The plodding hind, perchance, might meet. 
 
 The Sculptor's Bride, .... 
 The sculptor was an hungerfed. 
 
 Friends, 
 
 When Fortune takes the hand of Life. 
 
xii CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 To-Day, 156 
 
 To-day will never be to-day again. 
 
 An Hebraic Lamentation, 158 
 
 A kingdom that was mighty once. 
 
 The Sycophant, . . . . ■ .161 
 
 The sycophant, he steals the figs. 
 
 EXEMPLUM ChRISTI, 1 62 
 
 Cast out the net into the deep. 
 Babylon, 165 
 
 Ah, Babylon, what tears were shed. 
 
 A Hymn of Hope, 167 
 
 Though these my living bones shall lie. 
 Death AT Even, . - 169 
 
 Oh, let me die when glory's glittering crown. 
 
 SUFFICIT, 171 
 
 The deep-toned shadows round me fall. 
 
 Kindness, 173 
 
 Kindness is summer in the soul. 
 
 A Dream of a Day, 175 
 
 Another day is gone. 
 
 Notes, 177 
 
SONG 
 
 There is a music of the spheres^ 
 And beauty blooms in everything ; 
 
 And men have eyes to see, and ears 
 To hear, and tongues to sing. 
 
 While our old earth shall put forth flower, 
 And the old sun in heaven be strong, 
 
 And God hold heaven and earth in power, 
 Man's lips shall utter song. 
 
PROEM 
 
 I bring a hand of fruits and flowers, 
 Plucked from the open plains of life, 
 By paths of peace, and streets of strife, 
 
 In clouds and suns, in drouths and showers. 
 
 Fwent into the fields at morn. 
 And gathered while the dew was wet. 
 And walked with Nature until late 
 
 Through wilding wastes and acred corn. 
 
 I paced the village street at night, 
 The cottage garth, the peasant s plot j 
 And wandered by the castle^s moat, 
 
 And through the park, till fall of light. 
 
 And many were the flowers I found. 
 
 Flowers white as snow, flowers red as blood. 
 Flowers open-blown, flowers but in bud. 
 
 Flowers shedding petal on the ground. 
 
 And many were the fruits I plucked. 
 Fruits sweeter than the honeyed hive. 
 Fruits bitterer than the galls of life, 
 
 Fruits oozing blood and wine when sucked. 
 
PROEM 
 
 And some I ate, sweet to the eyes, 
 
 And some I gathered, some I strowed, 
 And some, the first-fruits, seeming good, 
 
 I deemed not vain for sacrifice. 
 
 And these I bring, bunched in the hand. 
 And place them at the public feet, 
 That they may send their natural sweet, 
 
 Upon the nostrils of the land. 
 
 I plant them at the shrine of time 
 To breathe their soul upon the wind. 
 And die with Nature and her kind. 
 
 Or live in our fast-living clime. 
 
 Maybe thatfroched as saintly friar , 
 The priest of Baal stained with crimes, 
 Upon the altar of the times 
 
 Shall offer them with smoke and fire. 
 
 Maybe that they shall live and root, 
 And one in passing call them fair ; 
 Maybe shall die for lack of care. 
 
 Maybe be trodden under foot. 
 
DEDICATION 
 
 TO MY MOTHER 
 I 
 
 thou that servest God always, 
 
 And lovest the things He made and knows- 
 thou that lovest the green, green grass, 
 
 The red, red flower, the white, white rose ; 
 The robiris songs, the laverock's lays ; 
 
 The clouds that drift, the wind that blows, 
 
 And all that Earth of Heaven chose — 
 Look, mother, now into the face 
 
 The son thou lovest more than those. 
 
 II 
 
 Mother, unto thy son give heed. 
 
 As thou wouldest to a singing bird — 
 
 Take thou this book of mine, and read 
 The songs of which thou oft hast heard — 
 
 Take it— for thanks thou hast not need — 
 Since thou art worthier than a lord 
 That owns a thousand acred herd — 
 
 For thou hast taught me more in deed 
 Than I may hope to teach in word. 
 
MICAH 
 
Amor et nulle etfelk est /ecundissimus. — Plaulus. 
 
 In amove haec omnia insunt vitia, tnjuriae, 
 Suspiciones, inimicitiae, induciae, 
 Bellum, pax rurus. — Terence. 
 
 Hoc si crimen erit, crimen amoris erit. — Propertius. 
 
MICAH 
 
 There is more hatred in the earth 
 Than there is love in heaven ; and Life 
 In travail bears but death or strife, 
 
 And hates her ofTspring from its birth. 
 
 Oh, there is nothing that is good ; 
 
 There is but ill in all the world ; 
 
 And man's sad heart is soured and surled 
 With all the blackness of his blood ! 
 
 Or if there be a grain of good, 
 'Tis handled roughly and abused, 
 And mixed with evil and misused, 
 
 And sown in pits of filth and mud. 
 
 II 
 
 Oh, Micah was a king of men, 
 
 And Marah queen of women was ; 
 For Fortune as a birthright chose 
 
 To make most beautiful the twain. 
 
A DIVAN OP THE DALES 
 
 But they, two lovers long betrothed, 
 And happy as a king and queen. 
 And oft at eve together seen, 
 
 Were parted by the hand they loathed. 
 
 A distance drave their days apart, 
 For he was shepherd on the hills, 
 And she was daughter of the dales ; 
 
 But each lived in the other's heart. 
 
 Ill 
 
 Micah was wise, for being son 
 
 Of Nature, he had learned from her 
 The secrets written everywhere 
 
 With God's first finger in the stone. 
 
 For, as a child within her laps, 
 He called her mother, used her speech. 
 And wiser than the schools could teach, 
 
 He sucked a wisdom from her paps. 
 
 And while he watched his wandering flocks 
 He cut a reed and played thereon, 
 And sang his shepherd songs alone 
 
 Unto himself and to the rocks. 
 
 For he was poet born, and dwelt 
 Away from all the common crowd ; 
 And save the woman whom he wooed 
 
 He loved none, nor with any dealt. 
 
 And she with whom he pledged to wed 
 Looked on him as a god, and heard 
 
MICAH 9 
 
 Him speak the wise and god-like word, 
 And hid within her what he said. 
 
 And thus she learned from him his phrase, 
 And flowered her speech with Nature's flowers, 
 And washed her soul in sun and showers, 
 
 And took from Micah Nature's ways. 
 
 And she, unconscious, said great things 
 
 Beyond the grasp of native wit ; 
 
 And they of her own simple state 
 Spake ill in all their gossippings. 
 
 For one, who knew not what he said, 
 Would call her witch of nightingales. 
 Who loved the wizard of the hills, 
 
 And held a converse with the dead. 
 
 And, while she milked, upon her lips 
 She took her Micah's songs and sang. 
 And all her blood with music rang 
 
 And tingled at her finger tips. 
 
 And many, hearing her, were dumb; 
 
 And many, passing, tarried long. 
 
 And hung aside to learn the song 
 That drew the herdsmen to her home. 
 
 And kine turned head and looked at her, 
 
 And ate not of the fodder given ; 
 
 And one, 'twas said, from pasture driven. 
 Had knelt to her as if in prayer. 
 
10 A DIVAN OF THE DALES 
 
 IV 
 
 And Micah was a man of moods 
 
 Who often shunned the dales a time 
 To brood with Nature and to rhyme 
 
 In the fast mountain solitudes. 
 
 But when the frenzy of his blood 
 Had passed into the words of song, 
 He walked with Marah oft and long 
 
 Within the coverts of the wood. 
 
 And Marah doubted not, but knew 
 That Micah was a man of moods. 
 Whose spirit leaves the flesh and broods 
 
 Upon the mysteries of its view. 
 
 For, loving as a virgin pure 
 
 Who loves for love and life and death, 
 She drew in faith with every breath, 
 
 And held her lover's promise sure. 
 
 But one, who loved her with a love 
 That wooes and wins with much deceit, 
 Trod truth beneath his heathen feet 
 
 Withersoe'er he chanced to move. 
 
 He came to her as friend who bears 
 Good counsels, and when no one saw 
 He sowed his' offal with a claw 
 
 That looked like devils sowing tares. 
 
MICAH 
 
 And yet she listened not, or seemed 
 To listen not, but bore him hate 
 Greater than that which planned the fate 
 
 Of him of whom she ever dreamed. 
 
 VI 
 
 But, while he talked to her of him, 
 One sent to Micah spake of her, 
 Till each dreamed dreams that ever were 
 
 More like a nightmare than a dream. 
 
 And Micah vowed upon his bed 
 He ne'er would see her face again, 
 Till he should look on it with pain, 
 
 When he was dying, or she was dead. 
 
 And Marah, left unto the foe, 
 
 Drifted towards doubt, but still believed ; 
 
 And evermore in heart she grieved. 
 And wallowed in the wash of woe. 
 
 VII 
 
 For a long time they lived apart. 
 And saw not each the other's face. 
 But wished to see, and oft would trace 
 
 The foot where ever dwelt the heart. 
 
 And thus the twain unknown to each 
 Walked in the coverts of the wood. 
 Both dreaming dreams in love's lost mood. 
 
 And deeming either out of reach. 
 
A DIVAN OF THE DALES 
 
 But fate was kindlier unto both 
 Than either had to other been ; 
 They crossed their ways, and having seen, 
 
 The love that yearned feigned to loathe. 
 
 VIII 
 
 He met her in the wood ; they passed 
 In silence ; when a rood away 
 She turned, exclaiming, ' Micah ! nay ! 
 
 I loved you first ; I love you last ! ' 
 
 He rested ; red with anger cried, 
 ' You loved me ; love me yet, you say ? 
 Go ! tell me that some other day ; 
 Your actions say your tongue has lied ! 
 
 ' You love me ! thus you said before, 
 And I believing gave my heart, 
 And told my love ; but you your part 
 Have loosely played with closed door ! 
 
 ' You love me ! one tieed never pride 
 Himself on love ; it dies too soon ! 
 Your love has changes like the moon. 
 And travels with the goalless tide ! 
 
 ' You flit about with every wind ; 
 
 You come ; you go ; you seem to be 
 The vagrant of inconstancy, 
 Without a heart, without a mind ! 
 
MICAH 13 
 
 ' Your life is lost in wantonness ; 
 
 Your name is weighted down with ills ; 
 The flippant tongue of gossip fills 
 Each ear with all your weaknesses ! 
 
 ' And loud-mouthed rumour ever rails 
 
 A-t you, and shouts your name till hoarse, 
 And makes your life a common source 
 From whence to draw its trifling tales ! 
 
 ' You rate the role of beauty high. 
 And take it for a freedom pledge 
 Or license of a privilege 
 To break the heart and vex the eye ! 
 
 ' You smile on that, you speak with this ; 
 And throw out fire to burn the twain ; 
 Then take to other : so again ; 
 This drawing, while you that dismiss. 
 
 ' You've ground your love till not a tint 
 Of Nature lives in blood or bone, 
 And all the soul is cast in stone. 
 And all the heart is turned to flint ! 
 
 ' You've dallied with the village youth 
 Till each turns head at you ; you sport 
 With love as though 'twere but a sort 
 Of falsehood gilded o'er with truth ! 
 
 ' The very girls that crowned you queen, 
 And loved and honoured you, and sought 
 To please you alway, you have wrought 
 Against with spite, and pricked their spleen ! 
 
14 A DIVAN OF THE DALES 
 
 ' And now they hate you, word and look, 
 And will not have your company ; 
 And now forsaken you must see 
 Open distrust in your rebuke ! 
 
 ' You loved me first ; you love me last ! 
 You need your love yourself, and go 
 Your way, I mine; and ever know 
 The present's fashioned by the past ! ' 
 
 IX 
 
 PaUid and trembling there she stood. 
 Without a word she went her way ; 
 And he, his heat spent, would not stay, 
 
 But turned and quickly crossed the wood. 
 
 His tongue was burning with its heat ; 
 Her ear was smarting with his words : 
 They heard not overhead the birds, 
 
 Nor saw the flowers at their feet. 
 
 X 
 
 She kept her home ; they met no more 
 Till Summer had to Autumn grown, 
 And Autumn aged/ and winds did moan 
 
 Among the trees and at the door. 
 
 And with the falling of the light 
 The creeper died upon the porch ; 
 The sun was low by day ; the torch 
 
 Upon the window flared at night. 
 
MICAH 15 
 
 The apple tumbled from the tree ; 
 
 The orchard bowed unto the ground ; 
 
 A sigh was heard in every sound 
 Upon the land, upon the sea. 
 
 The leaves fell curling in the air ; 
 
 The flowers lay down upon the grass ; 
 
 And Nature covered up her face 
 While Death was walking over her. 
 
 And in the still night, dark and wild. 
 The yew-trees lone, with bended head. 
 About the old church and its dead, 
 
 Cried like the sobbing of a child. 
 
 And when by Marah's home Death came 
 Her heart was heavy, and she wept. 
 And thought of Micah who had kept 
 
 His vow : she wept and sent for him. 
 
 XI 
 
 She sent for him ; he came, and found 
 Her sick and dying ; as he stepped 
 And took her proffered hand, he wept, 
 
 And kissed her, bursting into sound. 
 
 His grief broke on him now ; he cast 
 Himself upon her as she said, 
 ' Forgive me, Micah, when I'm dead ; 
 1 loved you first ; I love you last. 
 
 ' I'm glad you've come to see me die. 
 And e'er I go I'll tell you all ; 
 
i6 A DIVAN OF THE DALES 
 
 For, Micah, all the beastly brawl 
 That shook the village is a lie ! 
 
 ' I'm true to you, and pure as when 
 I first gave love to you ; and though 
 My love seemed dead, 'twas but to know 
 If love like woman's lived in men. 
 
 ' The gossips said your voice was true, 
 But that your heart was far away ; 
 They told me that you did but play 
 With me as child, and other knew, 
 
 ' I loved, but was no more than child. 
 And scarce outgrown the simple fear 
 Of one who passing by a mere 
 Breaks from the nurse with halloo wild, 
 
 ' And stands upon the marshy marge. 
 And reaches far with eager hand 
 To take the lilies from the strand, 
 But soon, with eyes astare and large, 
 
 ' Stands for a moment all aquake. 
 
 And looks into the deeps, and there 
 She sees a something watching her, 
 And turns, and shrieks, and flees the lake, 
 
 ' And leaves her treasure in her fright. 
 Not knowing she has seen herself, 
 But sure that she has seen an elf 
 Or trespassed on a watersprite. 
 
MICAH 17 
 
 ' For I was but a girl in years, 
 
 A child in knowledge, you a man ; 
 My wisdom failed where yours began, 
 And none could point to your compeers. 
 
 ' While you had knowledge of the spheres, 
 I knew not mine own heart, and wept ; 
 But, seeing you, I laughed and leapt, 
 A child of laughter and of tears. 
 
 ' I was not more than child in years, 
 And knew not what to trust or doubt. 
 For friends within and foes without 
 Sowed in my flesh the thorns of fears. 
 
 ' I wept like harper sad who hears 
 His music mocked at by the birds ; 
 For hate had stoned my heart with words. 
 And love had washed my soul in tears. 
 
 ' A friend would touch my love perchance, 
 A foe with purpose probe my hate ; 
 And fancy frolicked wild with fate, 
 And life seemed evermore a trance. 
 
 ' A word fell on mine ear by day ; 
 
 A thought broke from my brain by night ; 
 A shadow danced before my sight ; 
 And darkness brooded in the way. 
 
 ' Each lip was glib with words that ears 
 Had heard or overheard ; each tongue 
 On you ind yours was fast and strong, 
 And filled my heart with many fears. 
 
 B 
 
i8 A DIVAN OF THE DALES 
 
 ' One whispered that I might not hear ; 
 One blurted Hke a blast of horn ; 
 One spake in jest ; one laughed in scorn ; 
 One spurned misfortune with a sneer. 
 
 ' And, thus, strange sayings went about, 
 And weighed upon me every hour ; 
 But I was firm till all my power 
 Of trust was beaten down by doubt. 
 
 ' I dared not speak with you again, 
 
 Now thought you false, now held you true : 
 I shunned you alway, lest you knew 
 How loveless was my life with pain. 
 
 ' I hated stile and brook and moor, 
 
 Where we were wont to talk and move ; 
 My hate was greater than the love 
 Wherewith I loved them heretofore. 
 
 ' And yet my hate was but a love 
 
 That bears a pain 'tis sweet to bear. 
 And feels it good to wander where 
 A thousand aching memories move. 
 
 ' And so I wandered here and there 
 Within the coverts of the wood ; 
 The brook sang out your name, I stood, 
 I moved, and saw you everywhere. 
 
 ' And I was mad, and love ran wild, 
 
 Henceforth half held you false, and thought 
 By all your promises you sought 
 To please the humours of a child. 
 
MICAH 19 
 
 ' But evermore your songs would come 
 As music in my blood, and beat 
 Like breathing brooks, and make as sweet 
 As your lone hearth my lonelier home., 
 
 " Love hath a song to sing, 
 And she can sing it well. 
 Sing like a bird on wing, 
 Or in the dell. 
 
 Love hath a life to live. 
 And she can live it well ; 
 
 Love hath a gift to give, 
 A tale to tell. 
 
 Love hath a life to live. 
 
 And Love hath many a task ; 
 
 And she hath much to give. 
 Little to ask. 
 
 Love in her white hand brings 
 
 A plant of many roots, 
 That hangs with flowers and swings 
 
 With many fruits. 
 
 Love loves at morn and even, 
 And loves at death and birth ; 
 
 Love makes of earth a heaven, 
 Of heaven an earth. 
 
 Love hath a part to play. 
 And she can play it well. 
 
 On earth by night or day. 
 In heaven or hell." 
 
A DIVAN OF THE DALES 
 
 ' I shunned you, neither saw your face 
 Nor heard your voice till we that day 
 Met in the wood, and turned away 
 In trouble from our meeting place. 
 
 ' I shunned you not because mine eye 
 
 Found naught in yours to charm my blood, 
 For in your presence all was good, 
 And Life could live, and Death could die. 
 
 ' Oh ! Micah, if you only knew 
 
 My life, and felt its heated touch, 
 You then would truly know how much 
 I love you, know that I was true ! 
 
 ' I shunned you, but I shunned amiss. 
 For you were treading in my ways ; 
 And in my sleep I saw your face. 
 And heard your voice, and felt your kiss. 
 
 " Love smiles in sleep, and winds 
 Her tresses round the spheres. 
 And wakes at morn and finds 
 Herself in tears. 
 
 Love wanders by the brooks 
 That heard her vow the last, 
 
 And in the waters looks 
 And sees the past. 
 
 Love weeps, and through her tears 
 She smiles upon her vows. 
 
 Till rainbow arch appears 
 About her brows." 
 
MICAH 
 
 ' At morn I rose and crossed the green, 
 And wandered down the village street, 
 And passed a word with those I met. 
 And dreamed of all that once had been. 
 
 ' I hated none, but ever spake 
 
 As friend to all ; and if they turned 
 My speech to more than friend concerned 
 'Twas not my sin but their mistake. 
 
 ' At eve from lattice, gate, or porch. 
 
 Till gloaming fell I stood and watched. 
 Then sought the silent hearth, and latched 
 The door, and lit the evening torch. 
 
 ' My days were thick with what I heard ; 
 My nights were dark with many doubts ; 
 And closet whisperings, housetop shouts, 
 Made truth of falsehood word by word. 
 
 ' And many voices breathed your name. 
 And bound it round another's brows. 
 And made a running stream of vows 
 That your long absence proved your blame. 
 
 ' The scandals shouted as they passed. 
 And tittered out their fool's delight, 
 Till I grew sick, and held you right, 
 And I in fault from first to last. 
 
 " Love in her heart doth keep 
 A little hope and fear. 
 And in her bright eye peep 
 A smile and tear. 
 
A DIVAN OF THE DALES 
 
 Love hath a ring of gold 
 Wherewith to bind her sheaves, 
 
 A casket sealed and old 
 For fallen leaves." 
 
 ' I shunned you, but my sleep was great 
 
 With moving dreams ; my heart was fixed 
 Within your life, and ever mixed 
 Its prayers and wishes with your fate. 
 
 " Love at her altar stands. 
 And offers sacrifice. 
 And swings within her hands 
 A censer thrice. 
 
 And incense like the breath 
 Of flowers at morn and even, 
 
 Freed like the soul at death, 
 Rises to heaven. 
 
 A little power to please, 
 
 A little pleasure brief, 
 A little pain to ease, 
 
 A little grief. 
 
 A little burst of joy, 
 
 A flame that cannot harm, 
 A little to annoy, 
 
 And much to charm." 
 
 ' I slept and, dreaming, spake with you 
 In uncouth places, saw strange things. 
 And strangely moved ; such sleep that brings 
 But heaviness my pillow knew. 
 
MICAH 
 
 23 
 
 ' We talked of love ; a summer sun 
 Made lifting shadows in the trees ; 
 Huge clouds appeared and drove with ease ; 
 The sky frowned black ; an iron groan 
 
 ' Clove at the thunder's throat, and swept 
 The universe with flame ; the ash 
 Cracked at the roots, and with loud crash 
 Dashed down the rocks ; the cattle leapt, 
 
 ' Struck mad with fright, and lashed the air 
 With blindly lunging feet ; the earth 
 Shook tremblingly with fear ; a dearth 
 Hung bloodless terror everywhere ! 
 
 ' The black-browed heavens growled ; we held 
 Each unto other till a splash 
 Of hell-spat fire, and, with wild clash 
 That roared along the heavens and yelled 
 
 ' Through all the earth, smote where we stood, 
 And struck between us, gashing all 
 The rock ; one clung to either wall 
 That lipped the fissure's mouth ; a flood 
 
 ' Gushed from the clouds, in torrent-jets 
 That swept the slope, and leapt the ledge, 
 And thundered o'er the chasm's edge, 
 And hissed, and seethed, and frothed in fits 
 
 ' Of madness in the dark-mouthed pit. 
 No moon, no stars fixed vigil took ; 
 The heavens were drunk with rage, and shook 
 Themselves in ire, and gnashed, and bit 
 
24 A DIVAN OF THE DALES 
 
 ' The blinded sun ; the vengeful eye 
 
 Of wrath blazed strongly through the night, 
 And split the darkness with a light 
 That ever flashed and flustered by ! 
 
 ' A roaring filled the chasm deep ; 
 
 A hundred tremors shook the ground ; 
 The breach made space ; the waters drowned 
 Our voices ; when a chamois leap 
 
 ' Had placed you by me, as you leapt 
 A swooning horror thrilled my frame, 
 And, staggering headlong, shrieked your name. 
 And woke in falling, woke and wept ! 
 
 ' And, weeping, all my heated thought 
 Sucked trouble from the night and filled 
 My soul with woe ; my spirit thrilled 
 With straining labour, thrilled and fought. 
 
 ' Till wholely broken, broken through 
 With many tossings : once again 
 A heavy pulse bound heart and brain 
 In sleep : again I talked with you 
 
 ' In other places, heard you say, 
 " You loved me ; love me yet you say ! 
 Go ! tell me that some other day ! " 
 Then, waking, wept my life away ! 
 
 ' But, Micah, there would ever sit 
 On all my visions that old song 
 Of love that beareth long a wrong, 
 True love — do you remember it ? 
 
MICAH 25 
 
 " Love that is true 
 Is ever strong 
 To bear a wrong 
 And suifer long 
 In silence for another ; 
 And being great 
 
 And noble, even in 
 Its least estate, 
 And large with good within, 
 Can bear no hate, 
 But, like a tender mother. 
 It waiteth long 
 To pardon wrong. 
 And all along 
 Is ever true, 
 Is ever true ! " 
 
 ' And it is so : if I have erred. 
 
 Your love will pardon ; mine is true 
 And strong as ever circled through 
 The soul, and all its passions stirred. 
 
 ' And, Micah, now that we have met, 
 And I have told you all, forgive ; 
 And kiss me, Micah, while I live, 
 And tell me that you love me yet ! 
 
 ' Love hath a life to live. 
 
 And Love hath many a task. 
 And she hath much to give. 
 Little to ask. 
 
26 A DIVAN OF THE DALES 
 
 Love hath a part to play, 
 And she can play it well, 
 
 On earth by night or day. 
 In heaven or hell. 
 
 Love loves at morn and even, 
 And loves at death and birth. 
 
 Love makes of earth a heaven, 
 Of heaven an earth. 
 
 Love ever is the same. 
 The same in life and death. 
 
 She changes not her name. 
 Nor yet her faith ! " ' 
 
 XII 
 
 He kissed her thrice, and turned his face 
 Toward the wall and wept aloud ; 
 And, head on breast, while trouble ploughed 
 
 His heart, he paced about the place. 
 
 He could not speak his soul in words. 
 Till, breaking through his grief, he cried, 
 ' I spake in haste what I denied 
 To all the gossip-laden herds ! 
 
 ' I spake in haste ! I spake in haste ! 
 And you are worthier than I, 
 Since you were void of foul reply 
 When sullied with the village waste ! 
 
 ' I am unworthy ; I, not you, 
 
 Must crave forgiveness ! — Then we now 
 
MICAH 27 
 
 Are reconciled, and our first vow 
 Hath not been broken ! — We are true ! 
 
 ' Oh ! Marah, Marah, I have proved 
 Myself unworthy of your love ; 
 Unworthy of the pledge you prove, 
 And undeserving to be loved ! 
 
 ' My love hath held its dreamy eyes 
 Toward the sun till they were blind, 
 And stretched its arm that it might find 
 A passage through the dark device. 
 
 ' And others took its hand in theirs. 
 And led it with a touch of trust 
 Through storms of sand, and drifts of dust, 
 And desert wastes of palsied prayers. 
 
 ' My wandering wits have been deceived ; 
 My will hath fought against mine heart ; 
 And many a dagger-splintering dart 
 My wounded spirit hath received. 
 
 ' But all the love I deemed was dead, 
 
 Hath wordless wrought through many words. 
 And lived in hope, and moved towards 
 Myself : this is unmerited ! 
 
 ' And all was right when all seemed wrong, 
 And hearsay like a mocking bird 
 Chirped out the words that it had heard 
 To please the giddy, gadding throng. 
 
 ' Ah, friend is friend till proved a foe, 
 And foe is foe till proved a friend ! 
 
28 A DIVAN OF THE DALES 
 
 Oh, I have wrought a bitter end, 
 And I must drink my cup of woe ! 
 
 ' But, Marah, speak no more of this. 
 For you are blameless ; all my ways 
 Have dragged up all the darkened days 
 That covered all our life of bliss. 
 
 ' Hearts that are large with ill-intent 
 Have slavish, lying tongues, and such 
 Have talked of either overmuch, 
 While both of all were innocent. 
 
 ' Oh, Marah, other people's tongues 
 Shall never lick my life to shape ; 
 But each shall trust though doubt should drape 
 Our lives with many-worded wrongs. 
 
 ' And none shall part us ; each shall doubt 
 Either no more ; but love shall give 
 The perfect sweet of heaven, and live 
 The trifling times of folly out. 
 
 ' And we will walk above the head 
 
 Of life, halfway 'twixt earth and heaven, 
 With love that hath not touched the leaven 
 Of hungry board, or lustful bed. 
 
 ' Oh, Marah, look on me once more. 
 And list me say I love you still. 
 And ne'er can other love ; my will 
 Is fixed in you for evermore ! 
 
MICAH 29 
 
 ' Maybe that from our loss some gain 
 Is ours we had not heretofore : 
 Speak, Marah, say that nevermore 
 Sharp words shall cleave our lives in twain ! ' 
 
 XIII 
 
 He bent above her like a man 
 Who takes unto himself his bride ; 
 His dark eyes glowed with passion wide ; 
 
 His long hair hung ; his hot blood ran. 
 
 Her lips framed words, but speech was gone ; 
 
 Her eyes spake love and closed to light ; 
 
 The day drew out and died in night ; 
 And, as the hand of time moved on,. 
 
 She drowsed ; and, kneeling by the bed. 
 He caught her hand and uttered word 
 Of prayer if yet she might be spared : 
 
 But while he spake it she was dead. 
 
 XIV 
 
 And in the chamber a deep calm 
 Fell with the falling of her breath, 
 And Micah felt the dew of death 
 
 Fall damp on Marah's snowy palm. 
 
 And Micah bowed himself like one 
 Whom Fate hath grinded in the mill ; 
 
30 A DIVAN OF THE DALES 
 
 And, rising with a burst of will, 
 He stood like madness wrought in stone. 
 
 And, stooping earthward, from the fall 
 Of ashes on the hearth, he took 
 A dead coal, and as in a book 
 
 He wrote in black on the white wall. 
 
 "Ah, man is born unto trouble ! 
 
 There's a sigh in his every breath, 
 And a tear and a lamentation 
 
 In each word that he uttereth 1 
 All his days are labour and sorrow, 
 
 And his hopes are cast in his teeth, 
 And the dreams of the present vanish 
 
 And mock from the past like a wraithe ! 
 He looks and hopes for the morrow, 
 
 And each night, ' Ah me 1 ' he saith ; 
 ' There is nothing but weeping and wailing, 
 
 There's naught in the world but death ! ' 
 He kneels him down at the altar 
 
 With a stone in his mouth for bread ; 
 And his heart heaves a blood that is water 
 
 With every bound of its beat ; 
 And his soul an hungered with passion 
 
 Lives on the words of a myth ; 
 While he calls on his God for succour 
 
 His prayer falls dead at his feet ! " 
 
 And, having written underneath, 
 ' What I have written, it must stand,' 
 He drew a dirk from hose with hand, 
 
 And, grinding tongue between his teeth, 
 
MIC AH 31 
 
 He drave it to his heart and fell ; 
 
 And, while his blood swam round her bed, 
 With his last breath, he lifted head 
 
 And muttered, 'Marah, it is well! 
 
 ' You loved me first ; you loved me last ; 
 I love you last ; I loved you first ; 
 And love is blest, ajid hate accursed, 
 For, Marah, it is well at last ! ' 
 
POEMS 
 
 LIFE AT PLAY 
 
 The voice of Spring re-echoes o'er 
 
 The broad beholden plains ; 
 The heart of Nature heaves once more 
 
 The life-blood through her veins. 
 
 All things are gay ! 
 
 The dead is quickened with new breath ; 
 
 Life peeps beneath the pall of Death, 
 In happy play ! 
 
 Again the Earth unveils her face ; 
 
 The fields and trees are green ; 
 The landscape in its sweetest grace, 
 
 All robed in smiles is seen. 
 
 All things are gay ! 
 
 Hearts throb and thrill in ringing tone, 
 To merry music of their own, 
 
 While Life's at play ! 
 
 The mountain crowned with glory stands ; 
 
 The valley robed in peace ; 
 The verdant woodlands clap their hands, 
 
 As Beauty's joys increase. 
 
LIFE A T PLA Y 33 
 
 All things are gay ! 
 
 Mirth sits upon the mountain top, 
 And, laughing, views the springing crop, 
 
 While Life's at play ! 
 
 The kine, new-turn&d out to grass. 
 
 Low in the meadow land ; 
 Or drinking waters, clear as glass. 
 
 They by the brooklet stand. 
 
 All things are gay ! 
 
 Joy makes each pulsing heart its guest ; 
 
 Youth swells in every heaving breast. 
 While Life's at play ! 
 
 Birds take the wing ; the wild notes start 
 
 And flow and roll along ; 
 The emotions melt within the heart 
 
 And run in sweetest song. 
 
 All things are gay ! 
 
 Light sparkles on the darksome deep ; 
 
 And Music cradles care to sleep, 
 While Life's at play ! 
 
 The field flowers rise them in their beds 
 
 Of undulating green. 
 And shyly lift their pretty heads 
 
 To look upon the scene. 
 
 All things are gay ! 
 
 For Earth has doffed her garb uncouth ; 
 
 And Beauty crowns and kisses Youth, 
 And Life's at play ! 
 
 C 
 
34 A DIVAM OF THE DALES 
 
 The gay world like an angel lies, 
 
 Girt in celestial blue, 
 With emeralds greening on the eyes, 
 
 And rubies thick as dew. 
 
 All things are gay ! 
 The purple robes of queens and kings. 
 And precious stones, and golden rings, 
 
 Deck Life at play ! 
 
 The blown-buds bind the boughs with leaves, 
 
 And patch the green with red ; 
 The dancing grass, low-whispering, weaves 
 
 With hand and nods with head. 
 
 All things are gay ! 
 
 The Earth appears each morn and even 
 A little world let down from Heaven, 
 
 While Life's at play ! 
 
 The breeze blows gaily o'er the land. 
 
 And sings among the trees, 
 And tosses with a playful hand 
 
 The corn to tumbling seas. 
 
 All things are gay ! 
 
 A thousand waves in concert run 
 And glare and glitter in the sun, 
 
 While Life's at play ! 
 
 The world looks young, as golden gleams 
 Of sunshine wreath her brow ; 
 
LIFE AT PLAY 35 
 
 And Nature in her childhood seems ; 
 And age is younger now. 
 
 All things are gay ! 
 The living rules the dead again, 
 The dreams of youth pulsate the brain, 
 
 While Life's at play ! 
 
A SUMMER DITTY 
 
 Sunny, silken-robfed Summer, 
 Full of laughter, full of mirth. 
 
 Gilds the heavens with her glories, 
 With her bounties fills the earth. 
 
 All the sky is bright with sunshine ; 
 
 All the soil is sweet with showers ; 
 All the trees are white with blossom. 
 
 All the fields are full of flowers. 
 
 All the prancing brooks are prattling 
 To the dog-rose on the banks. 
 
 Bending to the washing waters. 
 Bending, kissing, nodding thanks. 
 
 All the lusty trout are sporting 
 In the shallows and the deeps, 
 
 Darting where the sunlight dances. 
 Resting where the shadow sleeps. 
 
 In the wood the throstle whistles ; 
 
 On the tree the squirrel swings ; 
 In the street the sparrow twitters ; 
 
 In the lea the laverock sings. 
 
A SUMMER DITTY 37 
 
 Oh the hills the sheep are bleating, 
 While the herdsmen sing their songs ; 
 
 In the dales the ass is braying, 
 
 While the school bell dings and dongs. 
 
 Birds are singing, cattle lowing, 
 
 Horses neighing out their praise. 
 Ploughmen whistling, shepherds playing 
 
 On the reeds of happiness. 
 
 Myriad swarms of insect armies 
 
 Skirmish o'er the sweating streams ; 
 
 Bees are busy in the brambles ; 
 Morning works and evening dreams. 
 
 Troops of merry country children 
 
 Hunt the meadows and the lanes, 
 Gathering floral pearls and diamonds 
 
 For the crowns of faery reigns. 
 
 Traffic thunders in the city : 
 
 Echoing hammers clang and peal ; 
 
 Click of whip and clack of horseman ; 
 Stamp of hoof and boom of wheel. 
 
 Dog and milkmaid in the village 
 Drive the milch kine slowly home ; 
 
 And the weaver in his cottage 
 Sings before his buzzing loom. 
 
 Nature pours her buoyant spirit 
 Forth in music on the ear. 
 
38 A DIVAN OF THE DALES 
 
 While the dreaming days are winging 
 In the circle of the year. 
 
 Time rolls round in golden chariot, 
 With a world of blessings fraught, 
 
 Making all things great in gladness, 
 Hearts all full of pleasant thought. 
 
THE FALL OF THE YEAR 
 
 The great world spins and ever rounds 
 
 The mighty magnet-ball of fire, 
 
 And ever changes her attire, 
 As through the heavens she strikes and bounds. 
 
 The Spring is here ; the Summer goes ; 
 
 And Autumn nears and passes by ; 
 
 And Winter comes, and all things die, 
 And Earth no more her beauty knows. 
 
 And now the touch of change strikes through 
 The heart of paradise, and numbs 
 
 The nerve of Life ; and all the new 
 Wears out with age, and old becomes. 
 
 The lights of Summer die away ; 
 
 The shades of Autumn darker grow ; 
 The sun curves short the arc of day ; 
 
 The winds wail out a weight of woe. 
 
 The clouds are large with gathering rains ; 
 
 The white mists curl around the hills ; 
 The skies hang low upon the plains, 
 
 And draw their skirts about the vales. 
 
40 A DIVAN OF THE DALES 
 
 The robin high on creaking elm 
 
 Pipes to the falUng of the leaf, 
 And floods all Nature's silent realm 
 
 With melancholic bursts of grief. 
 
 The woods and orchards once again 
 Are lean with age, and bald, and sear ; 
 
 And walk and ride, and path and lane 
 Are mourning for the dying year. 
 
 The dry leaf dangles on the bough. 
 
 Danced rudely by the storm's swift breath ; 
 
 And Nature's open cheek and brow 
 Are covered with the hand of Death. 
 
 The Earth is draped with gloom and shade ; 
 
 The cheerful voice of Life is mute ; 
 And tuft and blade, in field and glade, 
 
 Are dry and withered to the root. 
 
 And moor and mere, and fen and fell 
 Are lost in Melancholy's mood ; 
 
 And plain and dingle, slope and dell 
 Sulk in the shades of Solitude. 
 
 The deep-mouthed valley's fertile womb 
 Is barren with the length of age, 
 
 And, like some world-devouring tomb. 
 Frowns on the heavens in sullen rage. 
 
 And greatness lost in littleness. 
 
 Like monarch dwarfed by fallen clime. 
 
 Hides 'neath the cloak of its distress 
 The ruins of a better time. 
 
THE FALL OF THE YEAR 41 
 
 And desolation, dark and drear, 
 Fills all the sunny haunts of mirth 
 With soulless shade ; and all the Earth 
 
 Mourns at the dying of the year. 
 
 And now, where Eden might have stood, 
 And whispered immortality, 
 Death stands, and turns all pleasantry 
 
 To poison in the planet's blood. 
 
A WINTER WARBLE 
 
 The sheep are in the fold ; 
 
 The cattle in the stall ; 
 The herdsman in his cottage old, 
 
 The lord within his hall, 
 
 The lord within his hall. 
 
 And cold the north wind blows. 
 And moans upon the moor. 
 
 And whistles over hills of snows, 
 And barks about the door. 
 And barks about the door. 
 
 The snow falls out of heaven. 
 
 And whitens all the earth. 
 Like swaddling clothes by angels given 
 
 For the new year at birth, 
 
 For the new year at birth. 
 
 The old, old earth is white ; 
 
 The snow is everywhere ; 
 In the cold day, in the cold night. 
 
 It dances in the air. 
 
 It dances in the air. 
 
 It crowns the cloud -topped hill. 
 And whites the purple pike ; 
 
A WINTER WARBLE 43 
 
 It gathers in the great, grey ghyll, 
 And fills the deep, deep dyke 
 And fills the deep, deep dyke. 
 
 It falls upon the sea, 
 
 It falls upon the land ; 
 It darkens on the waste waves free. 
 
 And whitens on the sand, 
 
 And whitens on the sand. 
 
 It falls upon the street, 
 
 And muffles Traffic's heel ; 
 It dumbs the clatter of the feet. 
 
 The rumble of the wheel. 
 
 The rumble of the wheel. 
 
 The teamster paces slow, 
 
 And holds his horse's head : 
 The frosts are fierce, and hard the snow, 
 
 And slippery the tread. 
 
 And slippery the tread. 
 
 The country smith, swart-browed. 
 
 Blows by the red, red light ; 
 And iron and hoof he hammers loud 
 
 From morning unto night, 
 
 From morning unto night. 
 
 The herdsman breaks the ice. 
 
 And to the cold pool's brink 
 At morn and even, farmer-wise. 
 
 He leads his herd to drink. 
 
 He leads his herd to drink. 
 
44 A DIVAN OP THE DALES 
 
 The hare lies stiiF and brown 
 Upon her cold, white form ; 
 
 The moor-fowl starve upon the down, 
 And hide them from the storm. 
 And hide them from the storm. 
 
 The birds flock to the hedge 
 And chitter by the way ; 
 
 The sparrow on the housetop ledge 
 Chirps all the cold, cold day, 
 Chirps all the cold, cold day. 
 
 And nightly from his den 
 
 The famished fox comes forth. 
 
 And raids the farmer's feathered pen, 
 When winds blow from the north, 
 When winds blow from the north. 
 
 The skater sings a song. 
 And trips upon the ice, 
 
 A merry song the whole day long. 
 And sings the burthen twice. 
 And sings the burthen twice. 
 
A FISHER'S BRIDE 
 
 A MAD), who would have been a bride 
 
 Ere one more moon, bowed down her head 
 
 And kissed a fisher that the tide 
 Had pushed into the harbour dead. 
 
 An ocean swell of heaving woe 
 
 Dashed through the channels of her blood, 
 And washed her reason to and fro. 
 
 And drowned her senses in its flood. 
 
 And, mad with poison in her brain. 
 
 She beat her bosom, wrenched her tongue, 
 
 And wrung her hands in utter pain. 
 And, trembling, to the dead man clung. 
 
 She called the dead man lying there ; 
 
 Her look was wild, and strange her ways ; 
 Her long, loose, trailing, yellow hair 
 
 Fell from her shoulders on his face. 
 
 She looked and saw ; her wild eyes burned 
 With fierce, fast light, like stars at night ; 
 
 And like a bleeding deer she turned 
 To leave her stricken grief in flight. 
 
46 A DIVAN OF THE DALES 
 
 But they who knew her standing by 
 Laid kindly hand on her and held 
 
 Her in their midst ; and one shrilled cry, 
 One swooned to ground, one helpless wailed. 
 
 And many, pitying, gathered round. 
 And spake of that they knew aloud ; 
 
 And many wept with sobs and sound. 
 And noised the comforts of the crowd. 
 
 They took her home ; kind words did speak ; 
 
 But stricken love knew no relief ; 
 And, turning shoreward, she would shriek 
 
 ' Dead ! dead ! ' in hope-abandoned grief. 
 
 And them that loved her standing near 
 She mocked, and drave them to depart ; 
 
 For words of solace on her ear 
 Were but as thorns pressed in her heart. 
 
 She knew not mother's kiss, nor heard 
 The pleading voice of love's despair ; 
 
 And father's voice, and brother's word, 
 And sister's tears were naught to her. 
 
 No other love to her like his ; 
 
 No smile save his could sun the shade ; 
 And he, whose word, or look, or kiss 
 
 Had power to quicken, now was dead. 
 
 She shut her dormitory door. 
 
 And cast herself upon the bed. 
 And wept her soul out evermore, 
 
 A maniac ever shrieking, ' Dead ! ' 
 
A FISHER'S BRIDE 47 
 
 And all her neighbours watched, nor slept 
 Till day had come, and night had gone ; 
 
 And all her friends together wept, 
 And left her with her grief alone. 
 
 At morn her kindred forced a way, 
 And found their daughter lying cold. 
 
 With pale wet cheek, and brows that lay 
 White 'neath the knotted skeins of gold. 
 
 They bare her out, but spake no word, 
 Their sorrow working as they moved ; 
 
 They laid her 'neath the green, green sward. 
 And left her with the man she loved. 
 
OCEANUS 
 
 A VOICE like thunder breaks upon the deep, 
 
 And heaven fights earth with lightning lance and blast 
 
 Of whistling wind ; and the wild ocean's sleep 
 Is troubled in the waste. 
 
 The petrel sweeps the white waves with his wing, 
 And frolics with the waters in their play, 
 
 And in the mission of his heralding 
 Sports with the storm alway. 
 
 Death goeth forth as one who runs a race. 
 And drives his chariot on the ocean course. 
 
 And, waxing wroth and furious in his pace. 
 Breaks out in savage force. 
 
 The golden argosy in ocean dips. 
 
 And through the wall of waters cleaves her way ; 
 And round about the storm-beseigfed ships 
 
 The great leviathans play. 
 
 The waters leap unto the heavens, and fall 
 
 In white-mouthed fits of rage ; the lightnings flash, 
 
 And swathe with sheets of fire the midnight pall ; 
 The hurled thunders crash ! 
 
OCEANUS 49 
 
 And heaven breaks the sealed vials of hell ; 
 
 And woe is poured out over all the earth ; 
 And whirling flame is showered like burning hail 
 
 On every cape and firth ! 
 
 An earthquake rends the waves ; the ocean gapes, 
 And human flesh and blood is cast for bread ; 
 
 And downward pass the cargoes and the ships ; 
 The seas float with the dead ! 
 
 D 
 
DULIA 
 
 O SPIRITS of the starward flight 
 Whose wings o'ershadow all the earth, 
 The glory of your presence fills 
 
 The world with heavenly light. 
 
 O spirit at the grave of Death, 
 Wrapped in the cerements of the dead, 
 I know not what thy name may be, 
 
 But others call thee Faith. 
 
 O spirit on the sunward slope 
 That beckons Life to follow thee, 
 I know not what thou mayest be, 
 
 But others call thee Hope. 
 
 O spirit fluttering like a dove 
 Above the head of Life and Death, 
 I know not what thy name may be, 
 
 But others call thee Love. 
 
 O spirits of the starward flight, 
 O guardian genii of the world. 
 For ever pointing to the heavens. 
 
 In service day and night ! 
 
 Ye are the ministers that serve 
 
 'Twixt earth and heaven, and God and men. 
 That this blind, beating ball may keep 
 
 The courses of its curve ! 
 
OPPORTUNITY 
 
 As in a vision of the night 
 Methought I wandered in broad day, 
 Through many lands and many climes, 
 And saw the things of ancient times ; 
 Nor tarried while was light. 
 But at the setting of the sun, 
 In a wild, mountain pass, all lone, 
 I met one in the way. 
 
 And he was wonderful in form, 
 A god-like statue wrought in stone, 
 Whose lips had touched the lips of God, 
 And from them suckled breath. 
 
 And on his countenance there shone 
 The glories of the lights of life. 
 And gloomed the ghostly darks of death. 
 
 And like a messenger God-sent 
 From heaven to earth, in wonderment. 
 He moved as with a mystery, 
 In graceful awe and dignity ; 
 And in his power was ease. 
 
 And on his lip like dew at morn 
 There hung a silent psalm. 
 
S^ A DIVAN OP THE DALES 
 
 And on his right hand, writ in flame 
 That flashed Hke Hghtning, there was, ' Peace,' 
 And on his left hand, ' Strife ; ' 
 And from the caverns of his eyes. 
 Large orbs of gathered soul that awed, 
 There fell a light that glorifies ; 
 A blackening scorn that puts to shame ; 
 A scowl that laughs to scorn. 
 
 And his huge brows were like the seas. 
 That sleep beneath the sun-warmed sky. 
 And furrow with the chafing breeze. 
 And leap with tempest high : 
 They clouded oft with wrathful ire, 
 And blackened with a strifeful storm ; 
 And warmed anon with sweet desire. 
 And whitened with a peaceful calm. 
 
 Along the mountain pass he came 
 Atoe, as one who runs a race ; 
 And on his feet were wings. 
 He looked before, nor turned to gaze 
 Upon departed things. 
 Upon his brows a forelock hung ; 
 But he was bald behind. 
 
 And as he came he went ; his pace 
 Was swifter than the flight of days ; 
 He passed as smoothly as the wind, 
 And, passing, moved his marble tongue, 
 ' Now, now I ' and cast his eyes on me. 
 I lifted hand, but while I looked on him, anon, 
 Ere I could seize him he was gone. 
 
 And, having passed, I asked his name ; 
 He shouted, ' Opportunity ! ' 
 
AN AGAPE 
 
 Qui amant, ipsi sibi somnia fingunt. — Virgil. 
 
 Behold ! I dreamed that Love 
 
 From heaven flying fled, 
 And like a white-winged dove 
 
 Alighted on my bed. 
 
 I looked into her eyes, 
 And kissed with kisses sweet 
 
 Her red lips, lover- wise, 
 Her brows, and hands, and feet. 
 
 And she was beautiful 
 
 As angel; at her word 
 I knelt and breathed my soul, 
 
 And when I spake she heard. 
 
 And, ah ! what passioned prayers 
 
 I offered at her shrine; 
 And, ah ! what smiles were hers, 
 
 And, ah ! what sighs were mine ! 
 
 ' O Love, come here,' I said. 
 And whirled her to and fro; 
 And folded her abed. 
 Nor said she, ' Let me go.' 
 
54 A DIVAN OF THE DALES 
 
 I pressed her unto me, 
 
 And, ah ! what dear delight 
 
 And swift-souled ecstasy 
 Passed through the dreaming night ! 
 
 And, ah ! what joy divine 
 
 She bare to earth from heaven, 
 
 And, ah ! what draughts of wine 
 To mortal me were given ! 
 
 And, ah ! what breasts were hers. 
 White-rounded, clover- tipped; 
 
 Such mouth as blossom bears. 
 With rose-blown petals lipped ! 
 
 Ah ! she was beautiful. 
 With long, long hanging hair, 
 
 And eyes aflame with soul, 
 And milk-white bosom bare ! 
 
 But night took flight when day 
 Brake east with burning beams, 
 
 And Love winged back her way. 
 And I had dreamed my dreams. 
 
A NEW YEAR RHYME 
 
 I WISH thee much : 
 A golden year of glorious sun and love, 
 And may thine earth as happy heaven above 
 
 To thee be even such. 
 
 I wish thee love 
 As sweet as song upon a poet's tongue, 
 And musical as bells by fairies rung, 
 
 Or billings of a dove. 
 
 I wish thee life 
 As full and sweet as merry Christmas chimes, 
 And length of years, and happy, happy times. 
 
 And peace that knows not strife. 
 
ALICE 
 
 O Alice of the golden curls, 
 
 And heaven-blue eyes, and brows snow-white ; 
 O Alice, queen of all the girls, 
 
 I dreamed of thee last night ! 
 
 And, Alice, in a bower of flowers, 
 Methought I held my heart to thine, 
 
 And kissed thy rosy lips for hours, 
 And held them unto mine ! 
 
 And, Alice, when I woke at morn 
 
 I knelt and wept beside my bed, 
 And wished myself had ne'er been born, 
 
 Since thou, my love, wert dead ! 
 
AUSTER 
 
 Breathe, Auster, from the South, 
 
 Breathe, Auster, breathe ; 
 Breathe from thy god-like mouth 
 A living soul in Death ! 
 
 Breathe, Auster, breathe ; 
 Breathe, breathe ! 
 
 Blow, Auster, on the North, 
 
 And from the whited snows 
 Shall bud and blossom forth 
 The lily and the rose ! 
 
 Blow, Auster, blow ; 
 Blow, blow ! 
 
 Breathe on the cold, cold hills; 
 
 Blow in the warm, warm dales ; 
 Blow where the groundsman tills ; 
 
 Breathe where the herdsman dwells ! 
 Breathe, Auster, breathe ; 
 Breathe, breathe ! 
 
 Breathe o'er the vine-clad vale. 
 And to the deaf seas sing ; 
 Blow on the white-spread sail, 
 
58 A DIVAN OF THE DALES 
 
 And on the swallow's wing ! 
 Blow, Auster, blow; 
 Blow, blow I 
 
 Blow, for the sailor waits, 
 
 The husbandman is still; 
 The ship is in the straits, 
 
 The vintage must not fail ! 
 Blow, Auster, blow; 
 Blow, blow ! 
 
 Blow, Auster, from the South, 
 And sing as thou dost go ; 
 Open thy god-like mouth 
 
 And on the cold North blow ! 
 Blow, Auster, blow ; 
 Blow, blow ! 
 
THE NIGHTINGALE 
 
 Hist ! from the silver lips of Night 
 
 Bursts forth a song that breaks the stills 
 Of the tired, sleeping wilds, and fills 
 
 Heaven's ear with sadness and delight ! 
 
 The dreaming stars, in wonderment. 
 Look earthward, white and open-eyed; 
 The Moon leans from her chariot's side 
 
 And listens to the wizard plaint ! 
 
 The mountains echo strains of praise; 
 
 The rocks, heart-broken, gush forth tears; 
 
 The leaves are trembling, not with fears. 
 But soul-impassioned ecstasies ! 
 
 One knows not what it be; it seems 
 Some wild, weird music of the dale; 
 A thrill of triumph and a wail; 
 
 A burst of sobs in happy dreams ! 
 
 Perchance a voice from footless height 
 Falls on the ear, like winds at play. 
 That sing the hot trills of the day. 
 
 And the cold anguish of the night ! 
 
6o A DIVAN OF THE DALES 
 
 Perchance 'tis an immortal breath, 
 Heaven's music in an earthly strife 
 Of words, that seems a song of life 
 
 Upon the barren lips of death ! 
 
 Perchance a cygnet, dying, sings 
 A requiem by its reedy grave. 
 Upon the lone lake's winding wave, 
 
 And beats the rushes with its wings ! 
 
 Perchance an angel sings to teach 
 
 Man phrase of heaven's unuttered word; 
 Perchance God speaketh thro' a bird 
 
 That dwells in woods of birch and beach ! 
 
 Hist ! 'tis the song of nightingale 
 
 That flows like floods of molten gold. 
 And mingles with the starlight cold. 
 
 And makes a witchery in the dale ! 
 
 Ah ! 'tis the bird whose song, unawed. 
 Falls on the listening ear of Night, 
 Like subdued thunder, mixed with light 
 
 And uttered by the lips of God ! 
 
A BANQUET OF LOVE 
 
 Adown a sweet, wild orchard-grove, 
 Aneath the cherry-tasselled boughs. 
 
 We clasped our hands, and plighted love, 
 And kissed the number of our vows ! 
 
 We heard the tinklings of the brook 
 That purled atween the apple trees; 
 
 We saw the fruit that swayed and shook, 
 And heard the buzzing of the bees. 
 
 We drank the music of the birds, 
 
 That rippled thro' the whispering bowers ; 
 We caught the lowing of the herds, 
 
 And sipped the sweetness of the flowers. 
 
 We saw the silver shafts dart down. 
 
 And smite the leaves and strike the fruit ; 
 
 We saw the shadows shake, and drown 
 The russet carpet under foot. 
 
 We watched the liftings of the boughs, 
 And listened to the griding creaks; 
 
 We felt the breeze upon our brows. 
 The smile of Summer on our cheeks. 
 
63 A DIVAN OF THE DAZES 
 
 But sweeter than all other sweets 
 
 Was love that sweetened all our dreams, 
 
 And made sweet music to the beats 
 
 That flushed our veins with heated streams. 
 
 For eyes that wandered oft and met 
 Were brighter than the midnight stars; 
 
 And words soft spoken, laughter sweet. 
 More musical than Eolian airs. 
 
 We kissed; our mouths dwelt lip on lip 
 Like bee on blossom sucking power; 
 
 And oft returning, lone, to sip 
 
 The garnered honey of the flower ! 
 
 We sat and listened to the song 
 
 That Love struck from her golden lyre, 
 
 And felt the storm that swept along 
 And kindled Inspiration's fire ! 
 
 And music moved thro' all the earth; 
 
 And beauty to all things was given ; 
 And sorrow knew not life in birth; 
 
 And heaven was earth, and earth was heaven ! 
 
CREATION'S PSALM 
 
 A DEEP-BASSED, thunder-roUing psalm 
 Sweeps thro' the reeded throat of Time, 
 And charms the ear of every dime 
 
 With music of the great 'I Am.' 
 
 It drags the planets in their orbs, 
 And smites the sun, and shakes the stars, 
 And strikes the rocky-bedded bars. 
 
 And beats about the aerial curbs ! 
 
 Creation chants the nameless Name ; 
 The winging worlds in chorus ring ; 
 The great lands shout ; the huge seas sing ; 
 
 The thundering heavens roar, ' I Am ! ' 
 
TIME'S APPEAL TO ETERNITY 
 
 Eternal light ! 
 Kiss my blind eyeball with thy smile, 
 And glorify this mortal pile 
 
 On the immortal height ! 
 
 Come glorious morn ! 
 Let this old, worn-out world die out, 
 And with a great, triumphal shout 
 
 Eternity be born ! 
 
VINUM VIT^ 
 
 Earth binds her brows with flowering wreaths, 
 All Nature buds with life; the shrivelled root 
 Revives, and beauty blossoms into fruit, 
 
 And all creation breathes. 
 
 The great world ^wakes and claps her Jiands, 
 The hills reso.und with bleat of dam and young. 
 The valleys tinkle with the bells of song, 
 
 And Spring rides o'er her lands. 
 
 A queen with jewelled hands, from car 
 She kisses favours to the amorous air, 
 And scatters gold and silver everywhere, 
 
 And emeralds near and far. 
 
 The festive Earth lilts festive lay, 
 'Mid flowers that flame with rainbow lights; 
 And Echo sitting on the heights 
 
 Laughs loudly all the day. 
 
 The birds sing out their rival loves; 
 The wine of life makes glad the great world's heart: 
 A thousand bursts of passioned welcome start 
 
 From all the greening groves. 
 
 E 
 
66 A DIVAN OF THE DALES 
 
 The sun is bright; a gipsy gear 
 Falls on the glebe and covers all the trees; 
 A bracing vigour rides upon the breeze; 
 
 And all the skies are clear. 
 
 The reign of Freedom is begun, 
 The oxen low o'er all the country side; 
 The rambling rivers roll along in pride, 
 
 And frolic with the sun ! 
 
CELLA 
 
 My love, my Cella, lieth dead, 
 
 With lines of lilies round' her brows. 
 
 And wreaths of roses on her head : 
 And Death hath broken all our vows ! 
 
 But by the love that knit her soul 
 And mine together into one. 
 
 None shall the bridal breach make whole 
 And none shall for her death atone ! 
 
 I bend my lips and kiss the dead : 
 And, by our nuptial happiness, 
 
 I swear, I ne'er will lift mine head 
 To look again on woman's face ! 
 
 I swear by Cella's love, my tongue 
 Shall speak no more in woman's ear ; 
 
 I swear, my life shall bear no wrong 
 That claims love's tribute of a tear ! 
 
 I swear by Earth, I swear by Heaven, 
 I swear by God to strike me blind. 
 
 If my cold eyes with love e'er leaven 
 The virgin blood of womankind ! 
 
68 A DIVAN OF THE DALES 
 
 My soul is sad ; mine eyes are dry 
 As broken cisterns ; all my life 
 
 Is void of love, and I would die 
 
 With her, my bride, my dead, my wife ! 
 
 Ah, me ! my heart is broken now. 
 For Earth or Heaven cannot give 
 
 Such love as hers ! Ah, me ! I bow 
 And fain would die, nor wish to live ! 
 
THE AGES OF MAN 
 
 Prologue 
 
 The life of man is as a day ; 
 The morn, the noon, the evenfall, 
 The rise and set of sun : man comes 
 
 And tarries not, but goes his way. 
 
 Infans 
 
 The babe upon its mother's breasts 
 Whose strength is but a cry for help ; 
 A lord of earth, who, coming, comes 
 
 One of the world's unbidden guests. 
 
 Parvulus 
 
 The child with heaven-frank open eyes 
 Who laughs for little, cries for naught, 
 And plies his simple, native wit. 
 
 With many questions growing wise. 
 
 Puer 
 
 The boy that dreams not of the past. 
 But lives the present with all heart, 
 Nor looks the future in the face. 
 
 But hopes that life will flower at last. 
 
70 A DIVAN OF THE DALES 
 
 Amator 
 
 The lover drunk with love's new wine, 
 Who builds a temple in his dreams, 
 And makes an image with his hands, 
 
 And falls and worships at its shrine. 
 
 Pater 
 
 The father, sobered down with thought. 
 Who looketh out upon the world, 
 And kisseth the darlings of his home, 
 
 And goeth forth and tarrieth not. 
 
 Avis 
 
 The father of a father, grey 
 And long of beard and bald of head, 
 Rich in the romance of old times 
 
 To please the children of his day. 
 
 Senex 
 
 The old man, pitied by all men, 
 With yellow skin all seared and seamed, 
 And trembling hand, and shuffling feet. 
 
 Who passes to the child again. 
 
 Epilogue 
 
 Life as a smoking sacrifice 
 Consuming on the altar lies ; 
 Man grows from weakness unto strength. 
 
 From strength to feebleness, and dies. 
 
DUAD 
 
 The cottage rocks ; the bellowing blast 
 Beats out its rage against the walls, 
 And shrieks through every chink, and brawls 
 
 Its thunders down the chimney vast. 
 
 The winds do battle ; from their breath 
 The storm draws madness ; up the beach 
 The swells sweep high, and hiss and screech 
 
 The weird, mysterious words of death. 
 
 A shuddering vision strikes my brain ; 
 
 My sight grows black ; my blood makes ice 
 
 About my heart ; my spirit dies 
 In trouble, stricken down with pain. 
 
 I turn mine eyes upon the deep, 
 
 And cast my thought through time and space, 
 And skip the bounds of pace and place. 
 
 And watch and weep while others sleep. 
 
 Afar, a thousand sail I see. 
 
 That plunge and roll, and rise and fall. 
 And swing their whiteness in the squall, 
 
 And fight the tyrant of the sea ; 
 
72 A DIVAN OF THE DALES 
 
 They writhe and strain their strength to free 
 Them from the clasp of death, and leap 
 And wrestle in the tyrant's grip, 
 
 And flap their flags for help to me ! 
 
 I see a craft upon the rock ; 
 
 I see my boy upon the mast ; 
 
 I hear his voice shrill in the blast, 
 And cleave through all the crash and shock ! 
 
 ' O, mother, if thou didst but know 
 The peril of thy son, thy prayer 
 Would flash through all the earth, and bear 
 To heaven the soul-fraught wail of woe ! 
 
 ' O, mother, there is none to save : 
 Thou knowest not I perish now : 
 A sword shall pierce thy soul, and bow 
 Thine head with sorrow to the grave ! 
 
 ' God guard and bless thee, mother ! He 
 Who feeds the ravens, when I'm dead. 
 Shall succour thee and give thee bread : 
 I care not for myself, but thee ! ' 
 
 Oh ! if this be — but do I dream — 
 Or doth my love, o'er-anxious, make 
 Expectance of its fears, and break 
 
 Its passion on each perilous theme ? 
 
 I sit alone and muse : I hear 
 Him in the storm ; I see his face 
 Cast in the fire ; each thing and place 
 
 Thick with the dust of life appear. 
 
DUAD 7j 
 
 I lift mine eyes at break of day, 
 
 And look upon the rolling sea, 
 
 And watch and wait, my son, for thee. 
 And list to what the breakers say. 
 
 The Tempest winds his ghostly horn. 
 
 And, passing by, I take his skirt, 
 
 And ask him was there any hurt, 
 When fell the eve or rose the morn ? 
 
 Sometimes he mocks at all my fears ; 
 
 Sometimes he chants a mournful dirge. 
 
 That swings upon the swinging surge. 
 And falls like death upon mine ears. 
 
 Sometimes he, passing, mocking, saith, 
 ' Thou art his mother, not his wife ; 
 And what wert thou to him in life. 
 And what is he to thee in death ? ' 
 
 Sometimes he laughs upon the wave, 
 ' Thy son is well, lift up thine head ! ' 
 Sometimes he moans, ' Thy son is dead. 
 But thou shalt never know his grave ! ' 
 
 Sometimes he heedeth not my call ; 
 
 Sometimes he speaks I know not what ; 
 
 Sometimes he saith he knoweth not ; 
 Sometimes he answers not at all. 
 
 Each thought that smites me brings new fears 
 
 To chill my life ; I brood and brood 
 
 Unconsciously, till from my mood 
 I break and find myself in tears. 
 
74 A DIVAN OF THE DALES 
 
 My son — my son — shall I forget 
 In troublous times the child I bare 
 And suckled ? — child or man, my prayer 
 
 Is thine : I am thy mother yet ! 
 
 I am thy mother yet, my son. 
 
 Though thou art man and I am old; 
 Love loveth not with heart of gold 
 
 And weepeth not with eyes of stone. 
 
 O, God of heaven, and earth, and sea, 
 
 Hide not Thy face; stretch out Thine arm, 
 And bear his craft through calm and storm, 
 
 And bring him safely home to me. 
 
 And, God, dear God, may my dear son 
 
 Be ever, ever dear to Thee 
 
 As he, dear God, is dear to me, 
 When I am gone, when I am gone ! 
 
THE DAWN OF LOVE 
 
 Love in the fair soul of a dreaming girl 
 
 Is like the sun upon a snow-white lily, 
 A sparkling star upon a stainless pearl, 
 
 The golden moon on waters stilly. 
 
 Love in the great heart of a budding man 
 
 Is like the sun that fills the East with flaming. 
 
 And trails through Heaven and Earth a glorious train. 
 And puts the silver stars to shaming. 
 
SUMMER 
 
 Sweet Summer, fair young queen and goddess, crowned 
 
 With flowers and leaves and gold empearled. 
 Sits in the clouds that ride the purple bound, 
 And rules the world. 
 
 The strong sun, like a mighty, conquering king. 
 
 Along the flaming arch of heaven 
 His chariot, flashing fire, drives, triumphing 
 From morn to even. 
 
 The glorious heavens are full of smiles and songs; 
 
 The gay, glad earth is wrapped with flowers ; 
 Nature is dowered with the gift of tongues, 
 The poet's powers. 
 
 And one great chorus, like a blast of song 
 
 Rising from earth, in heaven is heard ; 
 Man winds the horn, while booms the insect throng, 
 And shrills the bird. 
 
 The dead hath life ; the dumb hath many words ; 
 
 Love lives by day and dreams by night ; 
 And angels flutter in the air like birds 
 On wings of light. 
 
 The merry morn stands in the purple East, 
 
 With rosy cheeks and laughing eyes ; 
 The sober eve sits in golden West 
 And smiles and sighs, 
 
vox HOMINUM 
 
 God sent a man upon the Earth, 
 Who nursed a mission in his soul, 
 But told no man the final goal 
 
 For which himself had birth. 
 
 For God had written on his heart, 
 'Thou shalt be greater than all men. 
 But thou shalt know much strife and pain 
 Ere thou hast wrought thy part. 
 
 ' Success shall be to thee at last, 
 But failure shall be thine at first ; 
 And thou shalt be a king, but erst 
 
 In prison shalt be cast.' 
 
 And this the man read all his life, 
 And lived it out, but told no man ; 
 And left in peace what he began 
 
 And wrought long time in strife. 
 
 He wrought at first, and by the rule 
 That Fate had framed at birth he failed : 
 And all the world stood up and yelled, 
 ' Thou art a fool— a fool ! ' 
 
78 A DIVAN OF THE DALES 
 
 And he was sad because he failed ; 
 For knowing not that he was born 
 With power, his people laughed to scorn, 
 
 And curses on him yelled. 
 
 He failed, but knew he should succeed ; 
 And unjust judges of the time 
 Took common cause, and made a crime 
 
 Of that which was his creed. 
 
 And his own country hated him ; 
 And his own house forsook his ways ; 
 And all his friends were enemies : 
 
 And yet he pitied them. 
 
 And strong men bound him with strong chains, 
 And cast him into dungeon dark : 
 And great was all his care and cark. 
 
 And many were his pains. 
 
 And long he suffered as for crimes, 
 And smoothed the violence of his will, 
 And held his power in patience till 
 
 The fulness of the times. 
 
 And last, as with a heavenly rod. 
 He smote the sea, and formed dry land, 
 And all the world knelt on the sand. 
 
 And cried, ' Thou art a god ! ' 
 
 And rich men vied that they should give 
 A golden crown, a silver throne ; 
 And all men stood and cried as one, 
 ' O king, for ever live ! ' 
 
vox HOMINUM 79 
 
 ' Long live the king ! ' they cried again ; 
 Long Hve the king ! ' the echo came ; 
 And all the people noised his fame, 
 And echo said, ' Amen ! ' 
 
 And from the throne he cried — for blast 
 Of indignation stirred his blood — 
 To all the peoples round him stood, 
 
 ' O fools, from first to last ! 
 
 ' I am the man whom once ye cast 
 In prison, " Fool — fool ! " thundering ; 
 And now ye crown me, crying, " King ! " 
 
 O fools, from first to last ! ' 
 
WILL O' THE WISP 
 
 Stone-eyed, conceited, babbling Ignorance, 
 
 Looks seeing Knowledge in the face. 
 And sayeth, ' Thou art blind and in a trance. 
 Or thou wouldst know that I have every grace 
 
 Of earth and heaven : thou knowest naught ; 
 I know all things, and much have wrought ! 
 I am a god ! Down, down — bend thou the knee 
 And worship me ! ' 
 
 And large-browed knowledge, standing, half-ashamed, 
 
 Looks down and listens, pitying. 
 And sayeth in reply, ' Thou art far-famed 
 For foolishness ! I know not anything ! 
 But thou art blind, whereas I see 
 Thee as thou art ; thou seest not me ! 
 A god ! Ah, ah, they told me at the school 
 Thou wert a fool ! ' 
 
 And Ignorance, cursing, shouts, ' Thou speakest lies ! ' 
 
 And Knowledge, laughing, answers, ' No ! ' 
 And Ignorance, blackening, thunders, ' I am wise ! ' 
 And Knowledge, laughing, answers, ' Be it so ! 
 Thou art a fool ! Thou knowest naught 
 And knowest not thou know'st not aught ! 
 I nothing know, yet know I nothing know ! 
 And be it so ! ' 
 
EVENING BY THE SEA 
 
 The West is tinged with blood and gold, 
 
 The sun is dying in the deep, 
 And twilight steals o'er moor and wold, 
 While Evening rocks the world to sleep. 
 The soul of life is fled, 
 The day is dead ; 
 And Night in lone captivity 
 Holds land and sea. 
 
 The breeze blows from the landward heights, 
 
 And swoops upon the dancing wav« ; 
 The fisher, boarding craft anights, 
 Puts out unto his father's grave ; 
 And, while the sea-bird's breast 
 Whitens the nest. 
 
 His net hangs where his kindred sleep 
 Deep in the deep. 
 
 The East is dark, the West grows dull ; 
 The grey heavens take a darker hue ; 
 The moon lifts up her cloud of veil, 
 And bids the dear, dead sun adieu. 
 A shimmering star breaks forth 
 From out the North, 
 And kisses with the lips of light 
 The brows of Night. 
 
83 A DIVAN OF THE DALES 
 
 Upon the sea, upon the shore, 
 
 The mists of evenfall descend ; 
 The uplands vanish, more and more, 
 And with the hoary heavens blend ; 
 Wild solitude is found 
 The horizon round ; 
 All things are voiceless in their sleep, 
 Saving the deep. 
 
 The waters wash upon the beach. 
 
 And roll and rock in rhythmic play ; 
 The billows lash the cliffs, and bleach 
 Their barren brows with foam and spray ; 
 And mournful murmurings fill 
 The solemn still. 
 
 With music wild and weird, and moan, 
 ' Alone ! Alone ! ' 
 
VYRGE 
 Quern di diligimt adolescens moritur — Plautus 
 
 Vyrge was beloved by the gods, 
 
 And man had never looked on her, 
 But woman, from the babe unto the maid ; 
 
 And she was star-born fair. 
 
 And none knew whithere'er she dwelt; 
 
 But Death, by chance, at evening dim. 
 Passed by, and, seeing, loved her, and was moved 
 
 To take her unto him. 
 
 And Vyrge fell sick with love and died. 
 And all her maidens mourned and wept. 
 
 And gathered round her, wailing evermore, 
 And waking, while she slept. 
 
 They dressed their queen in bridal robes. 
 And bound her brows with cypress wreath, 
 
 And she, a bride, dead in her virginhood, 
 Was wedded unto Death. 
 
 And like a white, dead queen of love. 
 
 In the white palace of the dead. 
 She dreamed the dreamless dream, and lay with Death 
 
 Upon the marriage bed. 
 
MAY 
 
 Delicious damsel, cherry-cheeked maid, 
 Adorned with blossoms like a blushing bride, 
 Happy and smiling at the bridegroom's side 
 
 Upon her bridal morn, thou art arrayed 
 
 In flowing draperies and silken braid, 
 
 And decked with precious stones, and dignified 
 With queenly beauty, stateliness and pride, 
 
 And throned with blood-red roses on thine head ! 
 
 Oh, thou art beautiful, and full of love, 
 
 Queen of the year, and loved and wooed by all 
 
 The immortal gods of heaven and earth, who move 
 Among the wonders of the stars, and call 
 
 Thy name in song, and leave their thrones above 
 And come to woo thee on our breezy ball. 
 
ENGLAND 
 
 England, thou hold'st the trident of the sea, 
 
 And let the crown with which thine head is crowned 
 Be Equity ; let Freedom's voice resound 
 
 Thro' all thy courts with unmarred melody, 
 
 As living ages pass away, and flee 
 
 Into the echoing past ; and be thou found 
 
 A shield from which the tyrant's blows rebound, 
 
 To ward the helpless in adversity. 
 
 O England, let thine every word and deed 
 Their living echoes thro' the ages fling ! 
 
 Let all mankind upon thy sceptre read : 
 
 ' All righteous laws shall righteous blessings bring.' 
 
 Then, noble England, thou shalt ne'er have need 
 To wed the Ocean with a golden ring ! 
 
JAMES ABRAM GARFIELD 
 
 He loved his fellow-man ; his heart could claim 
 The bruisSd slave as brother, and could fill 
 With zeal to guard the good and crush the ill. 
 
 He lived the music of a noble aim ; 
 
 With noble life he bought a noble name ; 
 He bent the rod of fortune to his will 
 And broke the bars of fate ; his heart-leal thrill 
 
 Of duty flashed thro' time his oak-grit fame ! 
 
 The greatest are the servants of the small, 
 To guide them with a wise and tender hand ; 
 
 The noblest brows round which the laurels fall 
 Most nobly for a people's weal have planned : 
 
 While Garfield sleeps there rests upon his pall 
 Love's tributes from the hearts of every land ! 
 
DECEMBER 
 
 December's here again : the dun, bleak ground 
 Is shrouded with a shroud of glittering white ; 
 The air is crisp and raw ; the bells at night 
 
 Ring out their wild, soul-stirring peals, that bound 
 
 And gush in swelling waves of thrilling sound 
 O'er all the frozen lands, with mad, mad might. 
 To charm each ear, and every heart delight, 
 
 And break in icy tinklings all around 1 
 
 The sun, low-vaulted in the southern sky, 
 His lurid redness casts in slanting beams 
 
 Athwart the stretch of snow ; while, far and nigh. 
 The hoary landscape flashes forth its gleams 
 
 Of beauty cold ; upon the bare branch lie 
 
 The crystalled dews ; and Nature sleeps and dreams ! 
 
SNOW 
 
 The snow falls fast ; the full, low-hanging sky 
 Pours from its lap the fleecy flakes that fall, 
 Like plumes plucked from dead angels' wings, and all 
 
 The naked land has raiment ; the mountains high. 
 
 And crouching vales that at their footstools lie, 
 And spreading plains, are girt with Winter's pall 
 Of frozen white ; the forest giants tall 
 
 Like shrouded spectres every path stand by. 
 
 The moon smiles sweetly on the silvery sea 
 That stretches out beneath her, as she rides 
 
 Among the clouds with heaven-born majesty, 
 And with a queenly nature gently guides 
 
 Her chariot thro' the night, while croft and lea 
 Beneath the swathing, frosted mantle hides. 
 
VITA ATQUE MORS 
 
 And what is life that we should wish to give 
 The living soul that dying flesh may live, 
 Or pull down barns and greater build, 
 Perchance that never may be filled ? 
 
 And what is death that we should ever dread 
 'The dark departing of the restful dead, 
 And love to live the life and weep. 
 And hate to die the death and sleep ? 
 
 Death takes into his arms poor, tired Life, 
 And like a statue white of sleeping Strife, 
 Lays her to rest at happy ease 
 Upon the pillow pale of peace ! 
 
MANHOOD 
 Philosophia stemma no?i inspicit — Seneca. 
 
 Fools make the length of birth the rule 
 With which to gauge a greatness vain ; 
 
 But Nature teaches in her school 
 That height of soul and breadth of brain 
 Are things whereof is made the man. 
 
 Christ was a God, but born a man ; 
 A man was he of low estate, 
 
 Whose line thro' kings and shepherds ran 
 To father Adam, who was great, 
 And common father of the State. 
 
GENIUS 
 
 Immortal genius comes in flesh and bone, 
 
 And lives a man with men on earth, 
 And gives them flowers and fruits ere yet be grown 
 
 The blade in time of dearth : 
 They take the bounty from his hand, and stone 
 
 Him for his worth ! 
 
 Ah, me ! the maniac, snarling- whelps bark down 
 
 The name that leaps above their own, 
 But cringe, and croak their flatteries, when Renown 
 
 Her golden pipe hath blown ! 
 Tongues turn their tides when Merit wears the crown 
 
 And mounts the throne ! 
 
EVENING AT THE WELL 
 
 The day now slowly wanes; 
 The rustic labourer from his toil is free ; 
 The village boys are frantic in their glee ; 
 
 And peaceful evening reigns. 
 
 The flowers their petals fold, 
 And evening's shadows on the landscape rest, 
 The king of day is seated in the west, 
 
 Upon his throne of gold. 
 
 The peasant and his spouse 
 Sit in the trellised porch and talk at ease. 
 While sun-browned children play among the trees 
 
 And swing upon the boughs. 
 
 The orchard-bowered home 
 Breathes out its smoking incense to the skies, 
 And looks upon the ruddy blush that dyes 
 
 The fringes of the foam. 
 
 Sweet is the evening air 
 With blossom odour blowing on the breeze ; 
 The woods are whispering to the scented leas. 
 
 And peace is everywhere. 
 
EVENING AT THE WELL 93 
 
 The village maidens gay, 
 In rural garb, with vessels on their heads, 
 Come to the village well as twilight spreads 
 
 At close of summer day. 
 
 God bless the peasant girl. 
 Lithe as a hazel, graceful as a pine. 
 Her father in the forest herds the swine. 
 
 But she may wed an earl ! 
 
 God bless the country maid, 
 With lips as juicy as a fruiting vine, 
 And ankle fashioned from a god's design. 
 
 And shapely foot and head ! 
 
 God bless the lissom lass, 
 With brooklike throat that into warbles breaks ; 
 Dark hair to waist, brown eyes, and ruddy cheeks 
 
 Like apples in the grass ! 
 
 A swarthy swain hangs by, 
 Held by the chains of love, and waits for one 
 Who comes with sweet, wild grace, and comes alone 
 
 To speak with him and sigh. 
 
 And mouth to ear he tells 
 His love ; and, on his breast, she lists his phrase, 
 And, looking up, she laughs into his face 
 
 A ripple of the bells. 
 
 Hist ! Hark the curfew's knell ! 
 The tinkling of the cattle at the gate ! 
 Hist ! The kine are stalled — the curfew rings not yet 
 
 Its welcome of farewell ! 
 
94 A DIVAN OF THE DALES 
 
 Gay laughter, like a bell, 
 Rings through the still, and fancy would endow 
 The village with a faery life, for now 
 
 'Tis evening at the well ! 
 
 And at the village well 
 The village girls draw water and are free, 
 As through the air in crystal waves of glee 
 
 Their laughing echoes swell. 
 
 Sweet springs that never fail 
 Rise in their hearts, and sweeten liberty. 
 And flow like wine while they so gladsomely 
 
 Draw water at the well. 
 
 Their bosoms ever move ; 
 Their olive throats throb like a singing bird's ; 
 Their rosy lips are sweet as grapes with words 
 
 And songs of life and love. 
 
 Sweetness and freshness dwell 
 Like blooms of May upon their faces gay. 
 And beauty sparkles in their eyes as they 
 
 Now linger at the well. 
 
 One stands with earthen pail 
 And draws the bucket from the dripping deep ; 
 One waits ; they tarry while the heavens weep 
 
 Their dews around the well. 
 
 They linger now and tell 
 In simple, rustic dialect and voice 
 The merry gossips, and in heart rejoice 
 
 Down at the village well. 
 
EVENING AT THE WELL 95 
 
 Their rippling joys dispel 
 The solitary wildness, as they speak 
 In secret whispers with a blushing cheek, 
 
 Beside the village well. 
 
 The well, the same old well 
 From whence the mother long ago did draw ; 
 The well that all her girlish frolics saw ; 
 
 The same old village well ! 
 
 Down yonder in the dell, 
 Beyond the stile, by the old oak it stands. 
 And drinks the waters from the stretching lands ; 
 
 The simple, village well. 
 
 The ancient, village well 
 Hath drunk the rain of heaven for ages now, 
 And watched the wreath of age crown childhood's brow, 
 
 Down in the grassy dell. 
 
 A soul-enchanting spdll 
 Breathes from the verdure of the velvet sward. 
 And rolls around the lichened stones that ward 
 
 The old, old, village well. 
 
 The country legends tell 
 How faeries danCe through all the summer night. 
 And pipe the music of a rich delight 
 
 About the village well. 
 
A BIRTHDAY CHIME 
 
 O BELLS in the old minster tower, 
 Ring for my love a birthday chime ; 
 Ring, ring a fantasy in rhyme 
 
 With all the witchery of your power ! 
 
 Ring earthly music and divine, 
 And with your iron hearts rejoice, 
 And breathe my whispers in your voice. 
 
 And tell the world that she is mine ! 
 
 Ring, bells in the old minster tower. 
 Ring like a whirlwind swift and strong. 
 That fills the whole earth with its song. 
 
 And moves the mountains with its power ! 
 
 Ring, bells in the old minster tower. 
 Ring loud as thunder in the sky 
 That basses deep and booms on high. 
 
 And shakes the clouds to summer shower ! 
 
 Ring, bells in the- old minster tower. 
 Ring sweet as silver bells that ring 
 When fairies dance anights and fling 
 
 Their kisses to the dreaming flower 
 
A BIRTH DA Y CHIME 97 
 
 Ring, bells in the old minster tower, 
 Ring soft as silent-winged light, 
 At dawn of day and fall of night, 
 
 And cast a spell about her bower ! 
 
 Ring, bells in the old minster tower. 
 Ring, ring the echo of her name ; 
 Ring, ring the glory of her fame ; 
 
 Ring sweets of life that never sour ! 
 
 Ring, ring my love a birthday chime. 
 Ring all the day, ring all the night, 
 Ring bursts of passion and delight. 
 
 Ring peals of praise in runic rhyme ! 
 
 Ring happy-hearted happiness, 
 Ring worlds of music and of mirth, 
 Ring life and love, ring heaven and earth, 
 
 Ring sure, swift-winged promises ! 
 
 Ring prophesies of love to-day, 
 That life to-morrow shall fulfil. 
 And wish her all that she may will. 
 
 And will her more than I may say ! 
 
 Ring golden dreams of love to link 
 With life in chains that never break. 
 Ring more than poet's tongue may speak, 
 
 And more than woman's heart may think ! 
 
THE KISSES OF LOVE 
 
 He kissed her pretty petaled lips, 
 And pressed the juicy grapes of love, 
 When first their eyes 
 Flashed soul on soul like stars, and bound 
 Their lives with silver cords, and wound 
 Their words in sighs. 
 He kissed her in the lilac-scented grove 
 Where wandering bees hung on the blossom tips. 
 
 He kissed her on her bridal morn, 
 When at the altar rail they stood 
 With love's shy pride, 
 And hands were clasped, and hearts were bound. 
 And lives were linked, and love was crowned. 
 He took his bride 
 Unto his home and hers, and a full flood 
 Of glorious heaven into his heart was born. 
 
 He kissed her on her nuptial night. 
 And clasped her heart to heart, in mood 
 As man with wife. 
 He pressed the redness of her lips, 
 And drank in dripping honeyed sips 
 The wine of life. 
 And gathered flowers to sweet his flowing blood 
 From love's dear, dreaming Eden of delight. 
 
THE KISSES OF LOVE 99 
 
 He kissed her when the night was gone 
 In morn's hot sun, and eve's cool shade, 
 And day's long light. 
 And in full time, with rapture wild, 
 He kissed his wife, he kissed his child ; 
 And day and night 
 The kiss of honest love on lip was laid 
 Of wife and mother, breathing babe and son. 
 
 He kissed her after many years 
 
 When life was face to face with death. 
 And love was crowned 
 With thorns that ever dripped with blood, 
 And by the beloved dead he stood 
 On holy ground. 
 He kissed her thrice in throes with throbbing 
 breath. 
 And wept his woes upon her breast in tears. 
 
EPITAPH 
 
 ON A GOOD WOMAN 
 
 Here sleepeth one of womankind, 
 Whose heart was great to love and live, 
 Whose hand was large to work and give. 
 
 And quick to know her mind. 
 
 She lived : her life was earth's increase. 
 She loved : her love was heaven in bud. 
 She wrought : and all her works were good. 
 
 She died : her death was peace. 
 
 Go forth into the city ways ; 
 Go cross the circle of the home ; 
 Go whithere'er thy feet may roam. 
 
 And thou shalt list her praise. 
 
 Go enter at the city gate. 
 By east or west, by north or south ; 
 Her name is heard in every mouth 
 
 At early morn and late. 
 
 And she is gathered with the dead, 
 But all abroad is gone her fame. 
 And all the living bless her name 
 
 Above her fallen head. 
 
EPITAPH loi 
 
 For all the words she spake were wise, 
 And all the works she wrought were good, 
 And now where erstwhile oft she stood, 
 
 And, sorrowing, wept, she lies. 
 
 Wouldst thou her name ? — a whisper waits 
 Upon the wandering wind, and saith, 
 ' The works of Lydia live in death, 
 
 And praise her in the gates ! ' 
 
WORDSWORTH 
 
 Wordsworth, thou wert a king of men, 
 A king whose sceptre never falls. 
 
 But sways with larger breadth and strain, 
 When Life is bounden with Death's thralls ! 
 
 Thy crown is glorious as the sun ; 
 
 Thy kingdom is the assembled world ; 
 Thy words o'er all the earth are blown 
 
 Like winged seeds by whirlwinds whirled. 
 
 Thy throne is but a breadth of stone. 
 By which the beloved Rothay rills ; 
 
 But thou in splendour all alone 
 Art mighty as thy native hills. 
 
 Thou wert dame Nature's favoured child ; 
 
 She took thine hand where'er she stepped ; 
 And at thy birth for joy she smiled ; 
 
 And at thy death for woe she wept. 
 
 Oh, thou wert as the lion's young 
 Born in the likeness of the lamb ; 
 
 Thy voice was gentle, but as strong 
 As subdued thunder of a psalm ! 
 
WORDSWORTH 103 
 
 Wordsworth, though thy dead mouth is shut 
 
 Thine ashes breathe a living breath 
 Sweet as immortal flowers and fruit 
 
 Upon the nostrils of sick Death ! 
 
 Thy song is like an organ blast 
 
 That swells from silence and expands, 
 
 And sweeps the earth in volume vast, 
 And shakes the waters and the lands. 
 
 And the dumb lips of earth rejoice. 
 And breathe the music of glad speech, 
 
 And sing with the melodious voice 
 Of washing tides upon the beach. 
 
 And the rich sweetness of thy tongue 
 
 Drops like the dew upon the land ; 
 And flowers wooed by thy sweet song 
 
 Blush in the desert wilds of sand. 
 
 Wordsworth, 'thy simple, rustic grave 
 
 Is more than monument to thee 
 In century-aged cathedral nave, 
 
 Hung round with proud pomposity. 
 
 Fame bends above thy buried bones. 
 
 And holds thy name in sacred trust, 
 As one of earth's immortal sons ; 
 
 And bids the world revere thy dust. 
 
 Ages shall live and wear away. 
 
 And Time from Life a tribute claim ; 
 
 But Death shall never touch the bay 
 
 That buds and blossoms round thy name. 
 
104 A DIVAN OF THE DALES 
 
 Thy song rolls with the thunder's noise 
 Through all the earth to charm all men 
 
 In wisdom, and its echoing voice 
 Falls back upon thy grave again. 
 
 England shall make thy word her boast, 
 And call thee greater than divine ; 
 
 The world shall venerate thy dust, 
 And Time strew laurels at thy shrine. 
 
 Wordsworth, sleep on and take thy rest, 
 And when a thousand years are dead 
 
 Thou still shalt live, and wear the crest 
 Of deathless glory on thine head ! 
 
THE FELLOWSHIP OF MEN 
 
 God first formed man, and made 
 Him king and lord of a large heritage, 
 And blessed his youth with rosy love, his age 
 
 With veneration staid. 
 
 He bare His high desire, 
 And wrought in him the fashion of His face. 
 And made him perfect, full of power and grace. 
 
 In image of his Sire. 
 
 He set him on a throne, 
 And gave him crown and sceptre, will and power ; 
 The lands, the seas were his, the fruit, the flower ; 
 
 He called the world his own. 
 
 II 
 
 Man now dishonours man, 
 And in dishonouring man dishonours God, 
 And treads where God Himself hath never trod ; 
 
 God's blessing is man's ban. 
 
 He stretches forth his hand. 
 And from his brethren's poverty plucks pelf 
 To pander to the pleasures of himself ; 
 
 They fall that he may stand. 
 
io6 A DIVAN OF THE DALES 
 
 He lifts his eyes to heaven, 
 And prays to One who covers ear and sight, 
 Since he hath violated every right 
 
 That heaven to earth hath given. 
 
 And God in wrath looks down. 
 And seeing men on earth like fiends in hell, 
 He rues His work, and, rising as to quell, 
 
 He turns Him with a frown. 
 
 in 
 
 Oh, when — when, when shall man 
 From out his nature pluck the roots of self, 
 And love his fellows better than his pelf, 
 
 Their losses than his gain ? 
 
 Oh when — when shall he cease 
 To drag them down and roll them in the dust, 
 And fan the fire of mutual distrust 
 
 That scorches human peace ? 
 
 Oh, when — when shall he know 
 That man is man, nor more nor less, and bend 
 His insolence, and treat him as a friend. 
 
 Nor spurn him as a foe ? 
 
 When shall he clasp his hand. 
 And say, ' Thou art my brother ; we are men ; 
 Henceforth o'er all the earth we twain will reign, 
 
 And neither shalll command ? ' 
 
THE FELLOWSHIP OF MEN 107 
 
 IV 
 
 O, Life, lift up thine head ! 
 The golden calf is not the God of man ! 
 Blood is more dear than gold, and Truth shall reign 
 
 When dark Deceit is dead ! 
 
 Shall Virtue worship Vice, 
 Or Honour bend to kiss the hand of Hate, 
 That murders Love, and plunders her estate. 
 
 And speaks not truth, but lies ? 
 
 O, Love, lift up thine head. 
 For thou shalt wed the nations with thy ring. 
 And sleep with Life beneath an angel's wing. 
 
 Upon the marriage bed ! 
 
 Nature makes all men men ; 
 Blind Fortune dowers them differently at birth ; 
 But heaven values each man at his worth. 
 
 And weighs nor rank nor gain ! 
 
LINCOLN 
 
 Lincoln, what name is like to thine ? 
 
 Before thee Earth's large lineage bows ; 
 The greatest son of a great line, 
 The noblest of a noble house. 
 
 Lincoln, strong father of the free, 
 Thine arm was strong as God's to break 
 
 The blood-rust chains of slavery 
 That bound thy sons unto the stake ! 
 
 Thy word was as the law of God ; 
 
 Thine hand was as the seal of Heaven ; 
 Thy sceptre was as Aaron's rod ; 
 
 And Freedom on thy brow was graven ! 
 
 Lincoln, the Niger mouths thy fame, 
 And tells the savage who thou art ! 
 
 And a white angel writes, ' Thy name 
 Is written on the world's large heart.' 
 
 Lo ! Afric, the dark, weeping queen. 
 Sits beside seas that wash her feet. 
 
 And mourns the dead days that have been. 
 The desolation in the street. 
 
LINCOLN 109 
 
 She weeps like Rachel, drowned in tears, 
 And mourns her children slaved and slain; 
 
 The sword hath dropped with blood for years, 
 For years hath clanked the flesh-worn chain ! 
 
 And, while she looks upon the West, 
 The waves sing songs of peace to her, 
 
 And shout of jubilee and rest, 
 
 And thunder paeans of answered prayer. 
 
 ' O, dark, dark queen,' the white waves say; 
 
 ' O dark, dark mother of slavery. 
 Rejoice, be comforted, to-day ! 
 
 Rejoice, for 'tis thy jubilee ! 
 
 ' Rejoice, the bonds of bondage break ! 
 Rejoice, for all thy sons are free ; 
 Rejoice with all thy sons who shake 
 Their chains, and trumpet jubilee.' 
 
 ' Dark mother, let thy blessing rest 
 On him who brings thee liberty. 
 And peace and goodwill of the best. 
 The legacy of Christ to thee ! 
 
 ' And teach thy babes to lisp the name 
 
 Of Lincoln at the mother's knee; 
 And bless thy saviour that came, 
 The big brother of humanity.' 
 
WASHINGTON 
 
 O, first-born of a noble race, 
 And father of the crownless kings ; 
 
 O, ancient of these latter days ; 
 O, prince of princelings ! 
 
 O, common father of the sons 
 
 Whose veins are flushed with many bloods, 
 Thy lineage line unbroken runs 
 
 Through mortals unto gods. 
 
 Ah, Washington, thy deeds were great, 
 
 And like to Jupiter's of old ; 
 For thou wert as a god, and Fate 
 
 Quailed when thy thunders rolled. 
 
 Hero of heroes of the Strife ! 
 
 Immortal man of mortal breath ! 
 Thy life was as immortal life ; 
 
 Thy death immortal death ! 
 
 Thy name is written large in flame 
 
 Upon the brows of History ; 
 And all men know thee, for thy name 
 
 Fills all eternity ! 
 
WASHINGTON 
 
 Earth's fierce Niagara of Fame 
 
 Fills Heaven's wide ear with blasts of sound, 
 And the loud thunders of thy name 
 
 Like earthquakes shake the ground ! 
 
 And, Washington, to thee the claim 
 
 Is given that was due to be : 
 Thy sons are worthy of thy name. 
 
 Thy country true to thee ! 
 
THE MUSIC OF DEATH 
 
 The year her distaff lakes and weaves 
 A woof that bears a sudden change ; 
 
 The breath of Autumn tints the leaves 
 With gold and russet at the fringe. 
 
 The orchard wears its harvest crown ; 
 
 The bobbing branches writhe and creak ; 
 The plum swings ripe ; the pear dips down ; 
 
 The apple basks a ruddy cheek. 
 
 The hawthorn berries wag their heads, 
 And nod a message to the skies ; 
 
 The grasses fall ; the ripe herb sheds 
 Its fulness on the ground, and dies. 
 
 The verdant wreath of riant youth 
 
 Slips from the landscape's regnant brows ; 
 
 The year grows blind, and casts the tooth, 
 And with the weight of changes bows. 
 
 Nature is dumb ; no more is heard 
 The song of love ; the passion dies 
 
 Within the tuneless heart ; each bird 
 In bevies 'mong the stubble plies. 
 
THE MUSIC OF DEA TH H 3 
 
 The turf is strewn with leaves again ; 
 
 The winds begin to sigh and moan ; 
 The fields of wheat are gathered in ; 
 
 The grass is sear ; the ground is dun. 
 
 A pleasant odour of decay 
 
 Comes from the woods and scents the air ; 
 Death meets the planet in the way ; 
 
 Life smiles a farewell everywhere. 
 
THE POET 
 
 In moody silence through the world 
 The poet wandered full of thought, 
 
 And looked on life, and dreamt of all 
 That man had said and God had wrought. 
 
 He climbed the mount of God, and stood 
 Before God's throne, and knelt in fear. 
 
 God kissed the poet's lips, and spake 
 Into the hollow of his ear. 
 
 He read the Book of Fate, and knew 
 What had been, was, and was to be ; 
 
 He rent the veil of Time, and saw 
 The bright eye of Eternity. 
 
 And forthwith all his thoughts were loosed, 
 And, issuing out in perfect sound, 
 
 They, grape-like, hung upon his tongue 
 And fell like wine upon the ground. 
 
 And he was wonderful to see, 
 
 And strange were all his words and ways ; 
 He sang of love, and life, and death. 
 
 And uttered voluble mysteries. 
 
THE POET 115 
 
 His face was as the face of God ; 
 
 His eyes were seeing orbs of light ; 
 His voice was like an organ pipe 
 
 That blows through earth heaven's mad delight. 
 
 Nature spake unto him in speech 
 
 That he alone could understand ; 
 He heard her voice, and wrote her words 
 
 Upon his heart with God's right hand. 
 
 And as the shepherd plays the reed 
 
 Until his flock know what it saith, 
 He blew upon his lips till words 
 
 Were music moulded with his breath. 
 
 He sang, and all men heard him sing ; 
 
 And all the world cried forth his praise ; 
 The honeyed droppings of his soul 
 
 Made sweet the life of all his race. 
 
 And all his fellows took his words. 
 
 And rolled them on the common tongue, 
 
 And spake their thoughts in his, and filled 
 The public ear with what he sung. 
 
 God casts the poet in the world 
 
 To preach a message to his kind, 
 And break upon the creature's heart 
 
 The motion of the Maker's mind. 
 
THE PROPHET 
 
 ' I Am hath sent me unto you,' 
 
 Thus saith the prophet to his race, 
 
 ' To flash the lightnings of His will 
 La thunderbolts of prophecies. 
 
 ' I take the hand of God, and streak 
 The blind eye of the Earth with sight ; 
 
 And break the darkness into day, 
 And clothe the darkling spheres with light ! 
 
 ' I stand upon the ridge of Heaven, 
 
 And stretch mine hand towards the Earth, 
 And speak of peace, or war, or death. 
 Or years of plenty, or of dearth ! 
 
 ' I trumpet in the world's deaf ear : 
 I come to warn thee as a friend ; 
 
 Thou listest not ; then go thy way, 
 And frame the fashion of thine end ! ' 
 
 He speaks as with authority. 
 
 Yet utters that he knows not what, 
 
 Like the fair favourite of fate 
 
 Who finds that which he never sought. 
 
THE PROPHET i\1 
 
 And life to him is life, and death 
 To him is death ; his spirit moves 
 
 Within him, like a child in womb, 
 ,To prompt him when the time behoves. 
 
 And he is as the God in man. 
 
 And knows the wisdom of all things ; 
 
 He opens mouth to bless or curse, 
 To rate mankind or censure kings ! 
 
ODE 
 
 TO ENGLAND IN HER ISOLATION 
 
 England, be calm ; thou hast not cause for fear, 
 Though all thy boasted friends prove enemies ! 
 
 Be calm ; stand thou apart, and see, and hear. 
 And, knowing, work thy will, and go thy ways ! 
 
 Hold thee in ready ; watch by sea and land. 
 Nor trust in many friends, but be thou wise, 
 
 For none of all thine ambushed foes dare stand 
 Before thy face and look thee in the eyes ! 
 
 England, hold thou thine unabased brows 
 
 Unto the mailed hand of the assembled world ! 
 
 And when thou vowest do perform thy vows, 
 Though hell's red thunderbolts be at thee hurled ! 
 
 England, hold thou an unoffending front. 
 
 And none shall dare to strike thee in the face ! 
 
 But if the bloody hounds of hell will hunt. 
 The lion shall be found in his own place ! 
 
 And he shall hold his own, and men shall know 
 That there is iron in his blood to-day, 
 
 And virtue in his bones, as long ago. 
 
 When they who sported with him fell a prey ! 
 
TO ENGLAND IN HER ISOLATION iig 
 
 England, thy sons are Britons, and will fight 
 For Britain with the last drop of British blood ! 
 
 England, the sun shall rise out of the night ! 
 Thou hast thy children and thou hast thy God ! 
 
 Be wise ; stand thou aside ; trust not thyself 
 
 At all to foe, nor overmuch to friend ! 
 Trust thou thyself ; the sinews of a Guelph 
 
 Are steeled by heaven to break the world, or bend ! 
 
ARMENIA 
 
 From out the East there comes a cry- 
 That strikes a horror through the Wept, 
 
 And God from His white throne on high 
 Looks down upon the poor oppressed | 
 
 The Moslem dances Hell's delights 
 Round Christian martyrs sacrificed ; 
 
 Mahomet, the base prophet, smites 
 The scarrfed face of God's own Christ ] 
 
 And Satan draws the bolts of Hell, 
 And flings without a hellish birth, 
 
 And sends his devils forth to dwell 
 With men as men upon the Earth ! 
 
 From out the East there comes a cry 
 That makes the lips of God turn pale ; 
 
 There comes a cry that rends the sky, 
 And strikes a horror through the veil. 
 
 Armenia calls ; her words are strong ; 
 
 Her voice is like a trumpet blare 
 Of murdered right, and murdering wrong. 
 
 And falls like death upon the air. 
 
ARMENIA 
 
 ' My sons are speared on their own hearth ; 
 
 My daughters put to nameless fall ; 
 Mine innocents of wedded birth 
 Are dashed against their father's wall. 
 
 ' The courts of Heaven, God's Hallowed haunts, 
 
 Are made the slaughter-house of Hell ; 
 And dogs lick up the blood of saints, 
 Like that of cursfed Jezebel. 
 
 ' Base soldiers wallow like a hog ; 
 
 The father shot down like a stag ; 
 The mother drowned like a dog ; 
 The infant trodden on the flag, 
 
 ' And fiends with tongues of Hell's red flame 
 Gouge out the eyes of God's good priest, 
 And, mocking, call on Christ's dear name, 
 As Patron of their bloody feast. 
 
 ' The sun is dark and hides for shame. 
 The moon is turned to blood at night. 
 The stars look down and quench their flame. 
 And swoon, and tumble from their height ! ' 
 
TURKEY 
 
 ' MENE, MENE, TEKEL, UPHARSIN.' 
 
 The Writing on the Wall. 
 
 Turkey, thy doom hangs on the lips of Fate, 
 
 Like thunder in the mouth of God, 
 And thou, like ancient Babylon the great. 
 
 For bread shalt eat the clod 1 
 
 Thy fate is sealed ; in Heaven an angel writes 
 Thy name in blood of murdered saints. 
 
 And flings to Earth a blazing scroll that lights 
 The world with heavenly tints ! 
 
 God shall not pity thee, nor man ; the stones 
 That lick thy blood shall curse thy pain ; 
 
 For thine own sword shall pierce thy jointed bones, 
 And cleave thine heart in twain ! 
 
 Thy cup runs over with the blood of men 
 
 Offered to Baal in sacrifice ; 
 But thou shalt drink it, drink the cup, and drain. 
 
 And it shall thee suffice. 
 
 Turkey, thy doom falls from the lips of Fate, 
 Like thunder from the mouth of God ; 
 
TURKEY 123 
 
 And thou, like ancient Babylon the great, 
 Shalt eat the barren clod. 
 
 For, like a blast of bomb or cannon roar 
 
 In ocean-caverned clifF entombed, 
 God puts head through the cloud as through a door. 
 
 And thunders, ' Thou art doomed ! ' 
 
GOD SAVE ARMENIA ! 
 
 Jam satis est — HORACE 
 Verba fiunt mortuo — TERENCE 
 Ultima ratio regum — LouiS XIV 
 
 Debenda est Carthago— CA.TO THE ELDER 
 
 God save Armenia crying 
 
 To Heaven without avail ! 
 God save Armenia lying 
 
 Upon the rack of Hell ! 
 God save Armenia, dying, 
 
 And thunder Turkey's knell. 
 
 Ah, Europe, legion-armied. 
 
 Thou hast thyself forsworn. 
 While Armenia overswarmed 
 
 With Dragon's tooth is torn, 
 And Turkey, unalarmfed. 
 
 Mocks thee, and laughs to scorn. 
 
 O, Powers, lament your Babel ! 
 
 Your great strength makes you weak ! 
 Austria, Germany, able. 
 
 And Italy dare not speak ! 
 Your faith is but a fable ! 
 
 Ah, Powers indeed, but weak ! 
 
GOD SA VE ARMENIA 1 125 
 
 Ah, France, flee thou the naming 
 
 Of thine own nameless name ! 
 And, Russia, blush for shaming 
 
 At thine own shameless shame ! 
 And, England, ill's thy faming. 
 
 For thou art ev'n the same ! 
 
 Let England leave the wallow 
 
 In which the Nations play, 
 And with her war-horn bellow 
 
 Her people's will to-day ; 
 For all the world will follow 
 
 When England leads the way ! 
 
 Lead, England, lead, God's agent, 
 And wade thigh-deep through hell 
 
 To oust the Devil's Regent 
 
 From throne with shot and shell ! 
 
 The bomb of the besiegent 
 Is bloody Abdul's knell ! 
 
 There's blood upon thy raiment 
 
 That thou hast never shed ; 
 For thou hast made betrayment 
 
 Of Christ's poor, martyred dead ; 
 And God shall have repayment 
 
 Or crown with curse thine head ! 
 
THE CONCERT OF THE POWERS 
 
 There is a roaring nightmare in the West, 
 
 And Europe's sons and daughters groan in sleep, 
 And rise at daybreak, sunward look, and weep, 
 
 For, lo ! the dream is true in the red East ! 
 
 Oh, Throned Hypocrisy, thy rooted throne 
 Is but a heap of white unburied skulls ; 
 Thy crown the blood-gilt jewel of lost souls : 
 
 Thy sceptre a dead man's worm-bit thigh bone ! 
 
 Thou lovest God and man ? Thine be the ban ! 
 
 Thy lie shall whip thee like the Judgment Rod ! 
 
 Thou worshippest one, a Sultan, like a god. 
 And treatest One, thy God, worse than a man ! 
 
THE OLD TURK 
 
 The Old Turk is a devil, 
 
 A devil not a man ; 
 The father of all evil, 
 
 The bastard heir of Cain. 
 
 The Old Turk is a Pagan, 
 An anti-Christ, and worse ; 
 
 The Old Turk is a dragon 
 That vomits hell's red curse. 
 
 His mouth is like a crater 
 For fire and smoke of it ; 
 
 His vomit on the water 
 Is ashes of the pit. 
 
THE MURDERER 
 
 His hand is redder than a rose, 
 
 And drips with drops of blood like rain ; 
 His face is whiter than the ghost 
 
 Of his dead victim slain. 
 
 His heart is but a ball of iron 
 
 That swings against his bony breast, 
 
 Like hammer clink on coffin board, 
 When sick man finds his rest. 
 
 A shrieking nightmare is his day. 
 
 His night a sleepless, shuddering fear, 
 
 His life is worse than twenty deaths, 
 His bed is as his bier. 
 
THE CRY OF CRETE 
 
 Little Greece, big with heroic deeds, 
 Risen in the tomb of ancient climes. 
 
 Comes forth and takes the field, and leads 
 The world in modern times ! 
 
 Great is the glory of descent, 
 
 But greater is the living life 
 That, faithful on the mission sent, 
 
 Dies in a fulfilling strife. 
 
 Go, gallant Greece, for crying Crete 
 Calls o'er the strip of sea to thee : 
 ' Come, Greece, with ready hand and feet 
 Come, and avenge thou me ! 
 
 ' For I do travail, and my blood 
 
 Is shed like waters running red 
 Upon the altars of my God, 
 The graves of my dear dead ! 
 
 ' Come for the common Christ we love ! 
 
 Come for the common Faith we know ! 
 Come for our common Heaven above 
 Our common Earth below ! 
 
 I 
 
13= A DIVAN OF THE DALES 
 
 ' Come fer a common life and death, 
 A common crown, a common throne ! 
 Come for our common blood and breath- 
 In spirit we are one ! ' 
 
 Go, gallant Greece, thy cause is good, 
 And thou art worthy of thy cause — 
 
 Go dash a cup of Spartan blood 
 On Europe's rotten laws ! 
 
GREECE 
 (1897.) 
 
 Queen of the Orient ! classic in descent, 
 Even in these plebeian times a royal blood 
 Beats in thine heart, and washes like a flood 
 
 Of virtue through thy bones ; for thou are bent 
 
 Towards the Christ-hung Cross like a true saint. 
 And at the Altar thou art ready stood 
 To give thy Son in sacrifice to God, 
 
 Like Abram in the place where thou art sent ! 
 
 Greece ! classic Greece ! thyself hast kept the Faith 
 
 Whiles the Six Nations and their Pilates sit 
 And say, ' We find no fault,' but league with Death, 
 And leave the godly to a hellish fate. 
 ' And since thou doest it unto these,' Christ saith, 
 ' Thou doest it unto me.' And see to it ! 
 
YILDIZ KIOSK 
 
 There is a Golden Palace in the East 
 
 Where dwells the Devil, like a man and king ; 
 
 And round him swarm a thousand worshipping, 
 A thousand human devils at a feast. 
 That gorge the carcase till they heave like yeast, 
 
 And drink hot blood like vampires banqueting, 
 
 And eat the flesh of men like ghouls, and fling 
 The white-bared bones unto the couching beast. 
 
 And here the Prince of Pandemonium 
 
 Holds court, and ravines on the smoking slain, 
 
 And spits hell-fire on Christ's white, empty tomb. 
 But trembles, seeing God's dark hand in pain 
 
 Write on the wall beneath the golden dome. 
 Thus : Mene, Mene, Tekel, Upharsin. 
 
THE GOLDEN HORN 
 
 The Golden Horn o'erruns with blood, 
 And turns the deep, blue ocean red ; 
 
 .The whole land is a grave where God 
 Weeps for his beloved dead. 
 
 The Sun is crimson in the day. 
 The Moon vermilion in the night. 
 
 The scarlet Stars, flushing the milky way. 
 Reflect a blood-red light. 
 
 White Heaven, look down on the black Earth ! 
 
 Red Earth, look up to the blue Heaven ! 
 God once a man of woman's birth. 
 
 The Devil seven times seven ! 
 
ENGLAND 
 
 IN THE CONCERT OF THE POWERS 
 
 England, with all thy liberty, 
 
 With all thy power by land and sea. 
 
 Thou hast sold thyself in slavery, 
 And dared not to be free ! 
 
 Thy knee to Baal has been bent 
 
 Before the altar of thy God, 
 And thou hast worshipped as a saint 
 
 At the Devil's mimic nod. 
 
 Of thy two sins the world may know 
 The last is greater in the end : 
 
 Twere better to be friend to foe, 
 Than to be foe to friend ! 
 
 When a whole nation thunders, ' No,' 
 Shall one man stand and whisper, ' Yes,' 
 
 And play the coward to the foe 
 To buy dishonoured peace ? 
 
 No, by the laws of England, no ! 
 No, by her people's power to say ! 
 
ENGLAND 135 
 
 When England says that Greece may go, 
 One man shall not say, ' Nay ! ' 
 
 England, come thou apart and stand 
 Aloof, though Turkey's skull be cleft : 
 
 Better to stand on God's right hand 
 Than on the Devil's left ! 
 
GOD, LET THE SICK MAN DIE ! 
 
 God, let the Sick Man die ! 
 
 For he were better dead ! 
 
 Physician shakes the head, 
 
 And priest the prayer hath said, 
 
 And hope is fled ! 
 God, let the Sick Man die ! 
 
 ' God, let the Sick Man die ! ' 
 The gathered peoples cry ; 
 ' God, let the sick man die ! ' 
 The weeping angels sigh, 
 ' And ask not why ! 
 
 God, let the Sick Man die ! ' 
 
 ' God, let the Sick Man die ! ' 
 
 The host of fiends make wail, 
 ' And we wiU see to it well 
 That he shall have in Hell 
 Good burial ! 
 
 God, let the Sick Man die ! ' 
 
 God, let the Sick Man die, 
 
 God, God, and ask not why ! 
 The Devil stands anigh. 
 
LET THE SICK MAN DIE 137 
 
 And waits with hand lift high 
 To close the eye ! 
 God, let the Sick Man die ! 
 
 ' God, let the Sick Man die ! ' 
 
 The weeping angels sigh, 
 
 The laughing devils cry. 
 
 Men pray to God on high, 
 
 ' And ask not why ! — 
 God, let the Sick Man die ! ' 
 
 God, let the Sick Man die ! 
 
 For he were better dead ! 
 
 Physician shakes the head. 
 
 And priest the prayer hath said, 
 
 And grave is made ! — 
 God, let the Sick Man die ! 
 
INTEGRITY 
 
 Integrity ! How can a Sick Man live 
 
 Whose sickness once has brought him down to death ? 
 Integrity ! Can a Dead Man receive 
 
 Back the graved ghost and the departed breath ? 
 
 The Dead Man rots ; his bones shall break their joints ; 
 
 His body shall be ground by worms to dust ; 
 Not e'en a king's embalming that annoints 
 
 For immortality can hold his ghost. 
 
 God, bury the Dead Man until the end 
 Where man may never look upon his face ! 
 
 God, body buried there is soul, and send 
 His Hellish Highness to his native place ! 
 
THE SECOND DEATH 
 
 Seamen of Europe, hang the Christ 
 Upon the yard-arm of your ships, 
 And put the sponge unto His lips, 
 
 And say, ' A God twice sacrificed ! ' 
 
 Go, ship Him to the Dardanelles, 
 And moor Him in the Golden Horn, 
 While Mahound rises up in scorn, 
 
 And rings in every mosque dead knells. 
 
 Go, hang the Christ once crucified. 
 And let Him die for evermore ; 
 For do ye more than heretofore — 
 
 Go, break His legs, and pierce His side ! 
 
 Oh, ye who say ye love the Christ, 
 Cry, ' Crucify Him !— Crucify !— 
 Away with Him, and let Him die, 
 
 And be for evermore despised ! ' 
 
 And write on the Six Flags unfurled, 
 ' Christ the false prophet risen of old 
 Is hanged for Mahound's piece of gold ! ' 
 In every language of the world. 
 
THE ANCIENT OF DAYS 
 
 ( beheld, and the same horn made war with the saints, and prevailed 
 against them, until the Ancient of days came and judgment was given 
 to the saints of the Most High, and the time came that the saints pos- 
 sessed the kingdom. — DANIEL. 
 
 Michael and his angels fought against the Dragon; and the Dragon fought 
 and his angek, and prevailed not . . .And the great Dragon was 
 cast out, that old serpent, called the Devil, and Satan, which deceiveth 
 the whole world; he was cast out . . . and his angels were cast out 
 with him.— The APOCALYPSE. 
 
 The four winds fight on the great sea, 
 And with great violence smite the world ; 
 
 And the crowns and thrones of all the powers that be 
 In broken heaps are hurled. 
 
 The small horn of the great, horned beast 
 
 Makes war against the saints of God, 
 And slays them ever in the holy East 
 
 Where the dead Christ hath trod. 
 
 The small horn of the beast prevails, 
 
 And gores the suppliant saints that lie 
 Before the cross and kiss the blood-rust nails 
 
 Until they gasp and die. 
 
 Oh, God, there are that wear the crown 
 Who call them sons, but bastards are ! 
 
THE ANCIENT OF DA YS 141 
 
 Send Michael and his host of angels down 
 To fight Thy holy war ! 
 
 And cast the Dragon-serpent out, 
 
 And slay his angels hip and thigh, 
 And put his lying legions all to rout. 
 
 And smite them till they die ! 
 
 Ancient of days, when shall it be 
 
 That Thou shalt come and judgment give ! 
 
 How long — how long, e'er the sons of God shall see 
 Thy face, O Christ, and live ! 
 
A PARABLE 
 
 Six Thieves once bound them in a league 
 
 To rob and share the plunder, 
 But each thought every one a prig 
 
 Save himself — and no wonder ! 
 
 One night they went out, as to beg, 
 But came home with a Turkey ; 
 
 And on their way they found an Egg, 
 A Crate it was, and murky. 
 
 And next day when the sun was high 
 
 They came to share together, 
 But none could any satisfy — 
 
 They fell out o'er a feather. 
 
 And each one called the other prig. 
 And words to blows a-gobbling flew ; 
 
 And in the iight they broke the Egg, 
 And killed the Turkey too. 
 
 One wanted wing, another thigh — 
 The bone was much, the meat was small- 
 
 But none could any satisfy. 
 For every wanted all. 
 
A PARABLE 143 
 
 And each one cried for more to stuff 
 
 His mouth, that he might hold his peace ; 
 
 Though none of them was goose enough 
 To tolerate the Greace. 
 
 And thus they wrangled o'er the spoils 
 
 For days and nights together, 
 Until their shares were but turmoils 
 
 And pluckings of the feather. 
 
 For soon the dead, plucked Turkey stank. 
 
 The Egg was worse than stinking ; 
 The Six Thieves had themselves to thank. 
 
 And fell at last a-thinking. 
 
 And each one thanked himself, and curst 
 The night that bred the stinking prey. 
 
 And made the best thing of the worst. 
 For each went his own way. 
 
MOLOCH 
 
 The waste grows thick, 
 The city thrives, and sends its smoking breath 
 In rolling puffs that bear the dregs of death 
 
 To drive the whole world sick. 
 
 And Traffic led 
 By Sacrilege swarms on the burial sward, 
 Drags underfoot the carven slabs that guard 
 
 The mansions of the dead. 
 
 One hoards his gold ; 
 One spends his years to satisfy his needs ; 
 One starves ; one dies of hunger ; no one heeds 
 
 The weakness of the old. 
 
 One, weary, saith, 
 ' Man would rejoice to die and sorrow much 
 To live, were earth his home, and death were such 
 
 As life, and life as death ! 
 
 ' Oh, weary life ! 
 Lost in the whirr and burr of many tongues. 
 And pitched about upon the biting prongs 
 Of serpent-toothed strife. 
 
MOLOCH 145 
 
 ' When I am dead 
 May I take rest far from the clattering street, 
 And sleep where come not blind, disturbing feet 
 To trample on my head ! 
 
 '' I'll hang my brows 
 Upon the virgin neck of Solitude, 
 And kiss her cheek, and wrap me in her hood, 
 And in her keeping drowse. 
 
 ' May I find peace 
 If not in life at least in death, and lie 
 In Freedom's breezy lap, where live and die 
 The free-born, forest trees ! 
 
 ' For men are fiends. 
 And wrest with God upon the heavenly way. 
 And league with Satan, ever and alway. 
 To work their wicked ends. 
 
 ' And there is war. 
 War red with blood of murder crying loud. 
 But hushed with violence ; war among the crowd ; 
 War warring near and far ! 
 
 ' Each lifts his hand 
 And smites his brother, man with man in strife, 
 Like devils sent to make a hell of life 
 And spit fire on the liarid ! 
 
 ' One lives for lust, 
 And feeds upon the ofFal of the world, 
 And stamps upon the dying he hath hurled 
 
 Into the stinking dust ! 
 
 K 
 
146 A DIVAN OF THE DALES 
 
 ' One drinks the blood ' 
 And eats the flesh and sinews of his race, 
 And groweth great, and blesseth all that is. 
 
 And speaks that all is good ! 
 
 ' And evermore 
 Man hateth man, and God with demons fights ; 
 The strong man robs the weak man of his rights, 
 
 The rich oppress the poor. 
 
 ' One unabashed , 
 Lifts brazen brows, and "breathes with lips of fraud 
 A long prayer in the deaf, shut ear of God 
 
 That earthward dead is dashed. 
 
 ' One gathers sand. 
 And casts it in a zealot people's eyes. 
 And preaches sight to blindness, uttering lies, 
 
 The creeds of his own hand ! 
 
 ' One whose blind eyes 
 Have seen, and whose deaf ears have heard the unrest, 
 Mad, drives the dagger in his beating breast. 
 
 Cursing the world, and dies ! 
 
 ' And one goes out. 
 And, standing on the hills, he looks abroad, 
 And cries for vengeance of a living God, 
 
 Or curses man in doubt ! ' 
 
KESLA, THE WITCH 
 
 The plodding hind, perchance, might meet 
 Old Kesla at the break of day 
 In some lone elbow of his way. 
 
 Or in the sleeping village street. 
 With skinny, naked feet. 
 
 The shepherd on the hearth would say 
 How he had seen her on the hill, 
 At early morn or even still, 
 
 But never in the heat of day 
 She chanced across his way. 
 
 She lived upon the lone, still hills, 
 
 Her bower was in the forest wild ; 
 'Twas said she ne'er had been a child. 
 
 But Kesla of a thousand tales, 
 The old witch of the hills. 
 
 Her crooked body bent and rocked, 
 
 Her sunken eyes were like live coals, 
 That blazed deep in their socket holes, 
 
 And as with staff in hand she walked, 
 Unto herself she talked. 
 
148 A DIVAN OF THE DALES 
 
 The old wives of the neighbouring dales 
 Told eerie legends of the past, 
 Oft told and often heard, when blast 
 
 Shook at the home, and ghostly gales 
 Moaned in the wild, wild vales. 
 
 The legends of the village told 
 
 That Kesla's eye glanced with the curse, 
 And that her being had divorce, 
 
 And took the shape occasion called 
 Of young wife or of old. 
 
 At times the housewife lone would fear 
 
 The cat that on the warm hearth purred, 
 The barking dog, the singing bird, 
 
 The vagrant who might chance appear 
 And beg for cheer. 
 
 And, dreading stranger at the door, 
 
 She made the cross with household broom 
 Upon the threshold of her home, 
 
 And Kesla, dragging eye on floor. 
 Turned from it evermore. 
 
 The cowherd, learned in wizard lore, 
 When milk was butterless, or pest 
 The kine a season might infest, 
 
 Nailed sickle upon stable door. 
 And at old Kesla swore. 
 
 A storm swept down upon the sail ; 
 
 The famine came ; the crops were doomed ; 
 The lightnings splashed; the thunders boomei 
 
KESLA, THE WITCH 149 
 
 And there were whistling storms of hail, 
 When Kesla wreaked her will. 
 
 Heaven shot the forged bolts of hell, 
 That killed the cattle on the hill, 
 And in the valltey struck the mill, 
 
 The ploughman in the furrow fell. 
 The maiden at the well ! 
 
THE SCULPTOR'S BRIDE 
 
 The sculptor was an hungerfed 
 
 To take of womankind to wife, 
 A virgin who at board and bed 
 
 With love should sweet his life. 
 
 ' I will go out,' the sculptor said, 
 
 ' Into the world and play a part, 
 And from Eve's daughters take a maid. 
 The woman of my heart.' 
 
 And he was greater than all men ; 
 
 For Heaven had gifted him at birth 
 With golden blood and silver vein. 
 And the graces of the earth. 
 
 And he went out and played his part. 
 And many were the roles he took ; 
 
 The lord ; the merchant on the mart ; 
 The priest with holy book. 
 
 He wandered on from morn till eve 
 Through wild, waste places and the crowd ; 
 
 And lodged at night, and took his leave 
 While cock was crowing loud. 
 
THE SCULPTOR'S BRIDE 151 
 
 He passed the mansion of the rich, 
 
 The wayside cottage of the poor, 
 The castle of the lord ; and each 
 
 He entered at the door. 
 
 He rode on horse to castle moat, 
 
 A bold sir knight with knight he dined ; 
 
 To peasant's cot he trudged afoot, 
 A worthy hind with hind. 
 
 And all men hailed him in the way, 
 And bid him welcome to their home ; 
 And he would bide a night or day. 
 And go as he had come. 
 
 He passed along the public street. 
 
 And tarried in the market place, 
 And at the city gates he met 
 A multitude a-race. 
 
 He passed the village well at night. 
 When maiden brown let vess»l down. 
 
 And jested with a witless wight. 
 Or courted country clown. 
 
 He saw the lady in the park ; 
 
 The shepherdess upon the hill ; 
 The milkmaid lilting like a lark. 
 
 On stool, with kine and pail. 
 
 And far he sought, and long, to find 
 
 A bride to wed into his life ; 
 But not a maid of womankind 
 
 Was meet to be his wife. 
 
152 A DIVAN OF THE DALES 
 
 ' Ah, me ! ' he said, and smote his thigh 
 With open palm ; ' ah, me ! ' he said, 
 
 ' If this be life, then let me die ; 
 I would that I were dead ! 
 
 ' Ah, me ! there is not anywhere 
 
 A perfect woman in the earth ; 
 For where is greatest plenty, there 
 I find is greatest dearth ! ' 
 
 And sick of heart and tired of foot 
 He chanced upon a quarried rock ; 
 
 And, weary, slept in empty hut 
 Of goatherd tending flock. 
 
 And in his sleep he dreamed a dream, 
 And starting from the dream he woke, 
 
 And rose inspired with heaven-born theme, 
 For God had with him spoke. 
 
 He went unto the solid rock. 
 
 And hewed therefrom a shapeless stone. 
 And smote it with his strength, and broke. 
 
 And saw what he had done. 
 
 And day and night he wrought with hand, 
 And ate no bread, and drank no wine. 
 
 Till with him glorified did stand 
 A goddess all divine I 
 
 He blest his work ; and he had rest ; 
 
 And he was great and glad in heart ; 
 Fpr he by Heaven's divine behest 
 
 Was wedded unto Art. 
 
THE SCULPTOR'S BRIDE 153 
 
 And with his bride he Uved the life, 
 And drank his wine, and ate his bread, 
 
 And lived with her as man with wife. 
 And slept with her abed. 
 
 And day and night, and night and day 
 He lived and loved her more and more ; 
 
 He lived to die for her alway 
 And loved her evermore. 
 
FRIENDS 
 
 When Fortune takes the hand of Life, 
 
 And on her finger slips the ring, 
 And they are wed as man and wife. 
 
 And Fame their marriage hymn doth sing; 
 And all their path is strewn with gold. 
 And aisled with purple many fold, 
 Her friends are many ! 
 
 But when she wanders in the street. 
 
 And Fortune, seeing, passes by. 
 
 And there is blood upon her feet, 
 
 And there are tears in her eye : 
 
 And all her way is paved with stones. 
 And from her raiment peep her bones, 
 She hath not any ! 
 
 For Fortune is a king of kings, 
 
 And Fame a lord of lords, and Life 
 Is queen or lady of all things. 
 Of Fame or Fortune being wife ; 
 But being maid, or having wed 
 With Poverty, must beg her bread 
 From Wealth, with many ! 
 
FRIENDS 155 
 
 Ah, friends in need are friends indeed, 
 
 With God's name written on their brows ; 
 And foes indeed oft friends in need. 
 With broad phylacteries and vows ! 
 Ah, friend may prove true enemy 
 And enemy true friend to be. 
 But few, if any ! 
 
 Some clasp the wrist of Friendship's hand 
 
 And write their names on every side ; 
 Some trace their names upon the sand 
 To perish with the coming tide ; 
 
 Some carve their names in solid rock 
 To mock at Fortune's change and shock ; 
 But, ah, not many ! 
 
TO-DAY 
 
 A SOLILOQUY 
 
 To-day will never be to-day again ; 
 
 To-morrow may not come, and yesterday is gone ; 
 The Past is dead ; the Future may be all in vain ; 
 
 The Present lives, and it is mine alone, 
 And I will live with it in such a wise, 
 
 That, God being witness of my word. 
 
 And men and angels having heard. 
 My lips may ne'er accuse me when it dies. 
 And at its burial 
 
 I shall not wail, ' Ah, woe is me ! ' 
 
 But bless the dead and all that be, 
 And whisper, ' It is well.' 
 
 Aye, tt is well, 
 Though passing bell 
 Tolls mournful knell. 
 Slow, slow to tell 
 
 To-day is dead ! 
 Aye, it is well ! 
 I need not wail. 
 
 With fallen head, 
 
 Above the grave, 
 
 And weep and crave 
 
 A word at last 
 
 Of pardon for the past. 
 
TO-DAY 157 
 
 For I have wrought 
 
 With heart and will 
 
 With much avail, 
 And wasted naught 
 
 In vain delay 
 
 And idle play 
 And dallyings with sloth in sluggard slums I 
 
 The Past is dead ; 
 The Future yet unborn ; 
 The Present lives, 
 And open-handed gives 
 
 To mtDrtal men 
 The ore of fate, 
 In native state, 
 To beat and blast, 
 To mould and cast, 
 To shape and turn, 
 In furnace red. 
 
 And time is swift. 
 And life is short. 
 And labour slow. 
 
 To-day will never come again ! 
 And I must go. 
 And use my gift, 
 In such a sort 
 
 That 'twill be well 
 
 At the farewell ! 
 
 And so to-day 
 I work away 
 Nor wait until to-morrow comes ! 
 
AN HEBRAIC LAMENTATION 
 
 A KINGDOM that was mighty once 
 And favoured by the God 'of heaven 
 
 Is fallen low, and all its sons 
 
 From home and heritage are driven. 
 
 Another nation holds their land, 
 Another hand their sceptre bears, 
 
 Another faith takes Mahound's wand 
 And rules high-handed over theirs. 
 
 Arabia's mosque in triumph stands 
 Where once their glorious temple stood ; 
 
 Moriah weeps ; and Zion's lands 
 
 Bow down and moan o'er Jordan's flood. 
 
 And all the seed of Jacob mourn 
 The ruined greatness of their state. 
 
 And wait the Prince that shall be born 
 To break the fetters of their fate. 
 
 They are as sheep, the shepherd lost, 
 Scattered abroad in pasturage ; 
 
 A pilgrim nation, a vast host 
 Bent on eternal pilgrimage. 
 
AN HEBRAIC LAMENTATION 159 
 
 A kingless race whose kings are dead, 
 
 As warriors, captainless, they fight ; 
 United war, divided, led 
 
 By a blind faith in the blind night ! 
 
 Their wandering, homeless liberty 
 
 Is worse than bondage of the home ; 
 The harp that once sang jubilee 
 
 Is rusted with cold tears, and dumb. 
 
 They wander homeless through the world 
 A scattered people, scorned and spurned 
 
 And trodden down : as aliens hurled 
 In exile and the ghetto burned. 
 
 Oppressed, they cry to Him, whose hand 
 
 Was mighty in the ancient years. 
 Who fought their battles, blessed their land. 
 
 But now no more their wailing hears. 
 
 They move in moods in every land, 
 Dragged to the dust, but full of pride. 
 
 And morn and noon and eve they stand 
 And look for Him they crucified. 
 
 Their faith lives on, nor dies, but drives 
 
 Their trust through heaven's perpetual frown ; 
 
 Their hopes leap high, though all their lives 
 By all the world are beaten down. 
 
 They build an altar with the spheres, 
 
 And prostrate fall on face and knees, 
 And cry aloud, but no one hears. 
 
 And cut with stones, but no one sees I 
 
i6o A DIVAN OF THE DALES 
 
 From East and South and North and West 
 And all the lands wherein they roam, 
 
 They turn their faces to the East 
 And look upon their fathers' home. 
 
 An iron crown is on their head, 
 A leaden sceptre in their hand : 
 
 As conquered kings in exile led 
 They rule, but in a desert land. 
 
 They mingle with the Gentile crowd. 
 And lift their skirts when passing by ; 
 
 They hear the human dogs bark loud. 
 And stop their ears against the cry ! 
 
 They push their fates in even strain. 
 With slow, sure-stepped monotony. 
 
 Against the prejudice of men 
 And triumph o'er adversity. 
 
 They follow Fortune at her call, 
 And travel far o'er mere and main. 
 
 And fall to rise, and rise to fall. 
 And clasp the golden hand of gain ! 
 
 And Freedom wanders lone to shun 
 
 The evil eye of Tyranny, 
 Or passing in the press unknown 
 
 She wears the frock of Slavery ! 
 
THE SYCOPHANT 
 
 The sycophant, he steals the figs 
 Anights when no one watches him, 
 
 And in his master's garden digs 
 A hole and buries them. 
 
 And early in the morn he goes 
 And tells his master of the theft ; 
 
 And cringing, thief-like, says he knows 
 The thief, when none are left. 
 
 The master, blind, commends the knave. 
 And makes him husband in reward ; 
 
 And he is tyrant to the slave. 
 And dog unto the lord. 
 
EXEMPLUM CHRISTI 
 
 JlopevSivres els rbv K6a/wv S/iravra, Kripi^arc rb ciayyiXiov Triarj xjj 
 KTi<ret. — "E^e\$e rax^ois els ras TKarcias Kai pinas tt)S vbXeus. — -'EleXSf 
 els rhs oSois Kal ippay/iois. — THE Christ. 
 
 ■ Cast out the net into the deep, 
 
 And draw, for there is much to take, 
 
 And fear not though the net should break : 
 
 For there is much, and all may reap ! 
 
 Go forth, ye pries(:s, that ape the Christ, 
 And bind His name about your brows ; 
 Go forth, fulfil your priestly vows, 
 
 And quit your systems man-devised ! 
 
 Go, leave the temples of dead gods ; 
 
 Forsake the altars long profaned ; 
 
 Nor wear the ephod ye have stained 
 With sacrifice of human bloods ! 
 
 Go forth, not as the Pharisee, 
 
 But as the preacher sent from God ; 
 
 Go forth and tread where Christ hath trod ; 
 And be as Christ would have you be ! 
 
 God speaks ! Go unto Nineveh ; 
 And tell Gomorrah of her fate, 
 
EX EM PL UM CHRIST! i6 j 
 
 And Sodom, ere it be too late ; 
 And cry aloud by night and day ! 
 
 Go forth, and take nor scrip, nor staff. 
 Nor meat, nor money in your purse ; 
 But love that blesses them that curse, 
 
 And pities them that scorn and laugh ! 
 
 Go forth into the wide, waste world, 
 And carry peace where there is strife. 
 And preach with lip and teach with life. 
 
 And sun with love what hate hath surled ! 
 
 Go forth into the world and work ! 
 
 Let all save God be sacrificed ! 
 
 Remember but the claims of Christ ! 
 Forget the barren creeds of kirk ! 
 
 Go forth into the human host 
 
 That crowds in homes of sin and shame ; 
 
 For many know not ev'n the name 
 Of Him who came to save the lost ! 
 
 And many wander in the way ; 
 
 And many fall ; and many die ; 
 
 And their dead bones to you do lie 
 A shame and a reproach alway ! 
 
 Go forth like men to bear a part ! 
 
 Go leave the heaven of the home. 
 
 And face the black hell of the slum. 
 And all the white fiends of the mart ! 
 
i64 A DIVAN OF THE DALES 
 
 Go forth, and seek what ye may find, 
 And God shall give ypu what is meet ; 
 Go forth into the city street, 
 
 And call the lame, the halt, the blind ! 
 
 And pass not by the stained soul 
 
 That Christ Himself would deign to touch ; 
 Nor shun the leper ev'n, for such 
 
 Christ the Physician can make whole ! 
 
 Go forth, and preach where Christ would preach 1 
 Go forth and live as He would live ! 
 Go forth, and give what He would give ! 
 
 Go forth, and teach what He would teach ! 
 
 Cast out the net into the deep, 
 
 And draw, for there is much to take, 
 
 And fear not though the net should break ; 
 
 For there is much, and all may reap ! 
 
BABYLON 
 
 Ah, Babylon, what tears were shed. 
 
 What groans rent through the rending breast, 
 
 When Israel exiled and oppressed 
 Walked through thy courts with bended head ! 
 
 What dreams were Israel's as she slept 
 
 Within the limits of thy line ; 
 
 What thoughts were hers when she would pine 
 Beside thy rivers while she wept ! 
 
 What clean-cut lines of keen despair 
 Were graven on her brow and face, 
 What humbled pride and thought had place 
 
 Beneath her heavy downcast stare ! 
 
 What memories sweeter grown in grief 
 Clung to the silent harps when they 
 Hung mute upon the willow spray. 
 
 And dangled like a lifeless leaf ! 
 
 Ah, Babylon, how hard wert thou 
 
 To taunt the heart with sorrows wrung. 
 To ask for sweet from bitter tongue, 
 
 Whilst thou with thorns didst bind the brow ! 
 
i66 A nrVAN OF THE DALES 
 
 Ah, Babylon, how should she sing 
 The songs that Zion knew to thee ; 
 How in a stranger's land could she 
 
 Strike home notes from the honieless string ? 
 
 How could she in captivity 
 
 Sing songs to please her captor's ear ; 
 How could she brook the laugh, the sneer, 
 
 And voice the music of the free ? 
 
 Ah, Babylon the great, thine hand 
 Was heavy on poor Israel's neck ; 
 Thy yoke was heavy, and did break 
 
 The royal pride of her own land ! 
 
 Ah, Babylon, when day had come. 
 The queen was slave unto her foe. 
 But oft anight her cup of woe 
 
 Was sunny with a dream of home. 
 
 Beside thy waters, ah, what thrills 
 Of anguish shook the cords when she 
 Remembered Zion by the sea. 
 
 Her home among the little hills. 
 
 What sighs of sorrow in the day. 
 What sobs of sadness in the night 
 Passed from her lips, bred by the blight 
 
 Of desolation in the way ! 
 
A HYMN OF HOPE 
 
 NoH omnis moriar — HORACE 
 
 Though these my living bones shall lie 
 In the dead earth and mix with dust, 
 And Death shall hold me, yet I trust. 
 
 I shall not altogether die ! 
 
 When light no more shall flood mine eye, 
 And Life in the dark void is lost. 
 And Death hath done his uttermost, 
 
 I shall not altogether die ! 
 
 I shall not altogether die 
 When all that lives shall rest in death, 
 And the unrest of life and breath 
 
 Shall pass my lips in a last sigh ! 
 
 I shall not altogether die, 
 For I shall live a fuller day 
 When earth and heaven have passed away. 
 
 And time hath touched eternity ! 
 
 Though Death grow mighty in his reign, 
 Yet Life shall conquer, and shall break 
 The sceptre of his power, and wake 
 
 The dead ; and I shall live again ! 
 
i68 A DIVAN OF THE DALES 
 
 When worlds and suns and, systems lie 
 In ruins at the feet of God, 
 And Death falls dead where Life hath trod, 
 
 I shall not altogether die ! 
 
 I shall not altogether die, 
 For man shall live with God, and see. 
 In the new heavens and earth to be, 
 
 And shall not altogether die ! 
 
DEATH AT EVEN 
 
 Oh, let me die when glory's glittering crown 
 
 Crowns all the dying west ! 
 Oh, let me lay my mortal buckler down 
 
 Then, then, and rest ! 
 
 Oh, let me die when twilight garbed in grey 
 
 Doth usher in the night ; 
 Oh, let me die in peace with parting day 
 
 And falling light ! 
 
 Oh, let me die at even, when the guest 
 
 Dreams of his home and owns 
 That home is home ! Oh, let me die when Rest 
 
 For Toil atones ! 
 
 Oh, let me die with loving hearts around 
 
 While I put off my gown ! 
 Oh, let me die with Love whose brows are bound 
 
 With Sorrow's crown ! 
 
 And may Hope smile a halo through the tears 
 
 That drop about my bed, 
 To circle like a rainbow of the spheres 
 
 My fallen head ! 
 
170 A DIVAN OF THE DALES 
 
 And may my death be sweet as life when youth 
 
 Breathed prayer with angel lips, 
 And walked with Innocence, and saw not Truth 
 
 Dark with eclipse ! 
 
 Oh, when the tasks that Life apportioned me 
 
 Are finished all, and I 
 Can say, ' I have done my duty faithfully, ' 
 
 Then, let me die ! 
 
 Oh, let me die in peace at even, while 
 
 The sun's last rays are shed, 
 And Duty casts her blessing with a smile 
 
 Upon mine head ! 
 
 Oh, may the night be still when stoops my sun 
 
 Behind the craggy fell ! 
 Oh, let me die when, I my work have done. 
 
 And done it well ! 
 
 And may, when my warm heart is cold and rests 
 
 With every throb complete. 
 The music of my life in other breasts 
 
 Still softly beat ! 
 
SUFFICIT 
 
 The deep-toned shadows round me fall, 
 And seal the golden vials of my sight ; 
 
 The darkness veils me like a pall 
 Spun by the hand of Niglit. 
 
 Earth casts her shadow on my face, 
 
 And wraps the folds of sorrow round mine head ; 
 No earthly ray beams while I trace 
 
 The path that I must tread. 
 
 Alone with heavy heart, alone 
 
 I wander through the world's wild wastes, and bow 
 Beneath my burden, while a groan 
 
 Rises to wreathe my brow. 
 
 Ah, God, the darkness covers me ; 
 
 Death standeth by me ; Life bows downs the head ; 
 I feel that which I cannot see ; 
 
 Mine hand is on the dead ! 
 
 At last, at last, a gleam of light 
 
 Burns brightly for me, marking out my goal. 
 Shoots like a falling star at night 
 
 To welcome in my soul ! 
 
172 A DIVAN OF THE DALES 
 
 Across the main, within the port, 
 Upon the dark horizon's line of gloom, 
 
 Heaven opens, and within her court 
 A thousand glories loom ! 
 
 All Earth is night ; all Heaven is day ; 
 
 Life here is dark, but yonder there is light ; 
 The scroll unfolds and moves away. 
 
 And with it moves the Night ! 
 
KINDNESS 
 
 Kindness is summer in the soul, 
 A sun that looks on life and smiles 
 
 On all the tides of change that roll 
 About the fortune-budding isles. 
 
 It smiles on life, and every part 
 Of man's dark nature beautifies ; 
 
 It makes an Eden in the heart. 
 An earthly Heaven in the eyes. 
 
 It covers all the world with flowers, 
 And tints all life with pleasantness ; 
 
 It pacifies the troubled hours 
 With gentle kiss and soft caress. 
 
 It squanders not its rage in fits 
 
 That burst in heat, and cool, and die ; 
 
 But on the throne of Nature sits 
 Crowned with the bays of constancy. 
 
 It issues from the heart, and rolls 
 
 As milk through all the homes of men 
 To succour all the fainting souls 
 And make the sickly whole again. 
 
174 A DIVAN OF THE DALES 
 
 Love holds a censer in her hand, 
 And burns an incense in the air, 
 
 And showers a sweetness on the land, 
 And breathes an odour everywhere. 
 
 Kindness is honey on the lip. 
 And love upon the tongue of life. 
 
 To sweeten word and work, and drip 
 An unction on the head of strife. 
 
A DREAM OF A DAY 
 
 Another day is gone, 
 
 Gone never to return ; 
 And as each day rolls on, 
 
 Age counsels youth to learn ; 
 Experience teaches by its cost 
 That time once past is ever lost. 
 
 The moments mutely tell 
 
 That they the life-cup fill, 
 As gathering raindrops swell 
 
 And fill the running rill. 
 Each moment as it wingeth past , 
 Should bear some impress that will last. 
 
 The future is a dream 
 
 That man ne'er understood ; 
 
 The present is a stream ; 
 The past a mighty flood. 
 
 Life is a runner running fast 
 
 And Death the goal he wins at last. 
 
 The day soon passeth by, 
 
 Dieth, and is no more ; 
 Dieth, and with it die 
 
 The oifers that it bore. 
 
176 A DIVAN OF THE DAZES 
 
 And that which might be valued most 
 Is lost for ever, ever lost. 
 
 Gone, gone, for ever gone ; 
 
 Gone like a subtle breath ; 
 Gone past recall, and on. 
 
 On through the doors of Death ; 
 Passed 'neath the arm of Life, and on 
 Beyond the reach ; for ever gone ! 
 
NOTES 
 
 Page 51. — Opportunity. 
 
 Lysippus, the famous Greek statuary, had a celebrated work repre- 
 senting opportunity. 
 
 It was a statue standing on the toes to show that it never rested in 
 the race, and upon its feet were wings in token of its passing speed. 
 A lock of hair hung upon its forehead,*but the head was bald behind, 
 signifying that it might be seized when met in the way, but that having 
 been allowed to pass it could never be taken. 
 
 Page 85. — To wed the ocean with a golden ring, 
 
 A curious and interesting custom was the symbolic espousal of 
 old Venice and the sea. Once a year, on Ascension Day, the Doge 
 went oiit in the Bucentaur, the State vessel, and by dropping a ring 
 from his hand into the waters of the Adriatic, formally wedded Venice 
 to the sea. 
 
 Page 104. — England shall make thy word her boast. 
 
 Veritas, Truth, was the motto inscribed upon the escutcheon of 
 Wordsworth. 
 
 Page 124. — Ultima ratio regum. 
 
 'The last argument of kings,' was the motto graven upon the 
 ordnance of France by order of Louis XIV. It ought to be written in 
 bold hand across the muzzle of the cannon of Europe, instead of weak 
 begging, humiliating, ineffectual, diplomatic babble ! 
 
 LONDON 
 DIGBY, LONG & CO., PUBLISHERS 
 
 BOUVERIE STREET, FLEET STREET, E.G. 
 
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14 "^ Supplementary List 
 
 ^ poetri^ ant) tbc 2)rama -^ 
 
 By Kathleen Behenna. 
 THE HISTORY OF A SOUL. 
 
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15 
 
 Supplem entary List 5©. 
 
 IPoetrg an5 tbe 'Bvama— continued 
 
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