PK 4'112- lis IDYLLS OF THE QUEEN wmmmmmmmmmmm W,A. GIBBS A'll7^o{ iiffflflrr Cornell University Library PR4712.G27I18 Idylls of the Queen, written In continuat 3 1924 013 457 449 Cornell University Library The original of tliis book is in tine Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924013457449 IDYLLS OF THE QUEEN. Written in continuation of the " Prelude" at the express wish ofH.S.H. The Princess May of Tech. Both the Publisher's oJid A uthor's profits will be given in aid of tlie fund for the wives ajid children of our Soldiers and Sailors. The Scene is laid in the Camp outside Jerusalem. THE FIRE, THE RAID, AND THE RESCUE. BY WILLIAM ALFRED GIBBS, AUTHOR OF "ARLON GRANGE," **THE STORY OF A LIFE," "HAROLD ERLE," " THE BATTLE OF THE STANDARD," ETC., ETC. LONDON : SAMPSON LOW, MARSTON & COMPANY, LIMITED, St. JBunBtan'B f^ouse, Fetter Lane, Fleet Street. 1892. h. CJIISWICK PRESS :~C. WHITTINGHAM AND CO., TOOKS COURT, CHANCERY LANE. L'ENVOI. OULD that the noblest Poet of our age (Perchance of all the ages) could be moved To send the flashing genius of his glance Far forward intp ages yet to come ! Thus to illuminate with glowing words E'en coldest hearts, with strange mysterious fire. Poet and Seer ! magician of the pen I Who with a few clear touches subtly fine Can call up vivid pictures of the past, So that this Dead Past lives and moves and breathes Instinct with action, love, with hope and joy. Passion and purity, pity and remorse, B 30 Chivalric courage, treachery and crime, Sin, grief, repentance and forgiveness. Lives there the man of British blood and breed Who thrills not with glad homage, deep, sincere For Arthur ; — purest, noblest of all kings ? Who hath no pride in Lancelot's chivalry. And no regret, as for an honoured friend. When sore temptation slowly marred his fame ? Who feels not poignant grief for Guinevere ? Pity for Enid, faithful, brave and true. And joy when her sweet patience met reward In Geraint's penitence and ten-fold love. Sad are we for the gentle Lily maid Of xAstolat, slow-gliding in Death's barge 1 And stung to loathing by a righteous scorn Of the false-hearted viper, Vivien. 31 These are no puppets of a showman's stage, But living men and women of old times Till now forgotten in Oblivion's caves. Why should not he who calls such spirits up From days remote, stretch forth his potent wand And people all the Future with a race "Clothed in white samite, mystic, wonderful"? Whose vision is like his so vvide, so strong, Whose eloquence so vivid, terse and clear. Who else so skilled in bringing far things near ? Dare any, save our Laureate, triply-crowned, — A peerless poet. Senator and Peer, — Attempt a task so arduous, so severe? For in fulfilment of this visioned dream No human passions can be touched and roused ; No battles and no tourneys stir the blood 32 With the strong warrior-instinct, latent yet Within our hearts, and ready to flash forth In grand "delight of battle with our peers." No clash of armour, splintered spears, crossed swords. No Dwarfs or bandit-earls ; knights faring forth Through tangled forests and o'er pathless plains To seek Adventure and to find sweet maids Hidden in castles dangerous and grim ; Ready to wait on them with modest grace. Whilst feasting in the grand ancestral hall, Ready to love, — and ready to be loved ; To ride back with them to King Arthur's court, To sit as Queens of beauty at the jousts, To join in revels and quaint pageantries. All these entrancing dramas of the Past Must be abandoned in this modern quest. And mere Imagination must go forth 33 Alone, unaided, into realms unknown. Unpeopled, passionless, vague, vast, obscure. Realms with no legend, life or history. Yea 'tis like passing from the fevered whirl, Of movement, action and incessant change Of this the greatest city of the earth, Away to silences and solitudes Of snow-capped mountains, there, alone, to stand Gazing at some far distant sunlit land. And oft-times when we gain with strain and toil That high-ranged eminence, with hope to view Far distant regions of the coming race, — The lower mists of troubles, petty cares, Inevitable clouds, obscure our sight And end in baffling disappointing rains. Yet sometimes 'tis the pilgrim's happy fate 34 To stand in glorious sunshine on the peak, Whilst lightnings flash, and thunders roll, below. Thus may it be with us, dear unknown friends. If any care to leave the world's keen strifes And travel up with me to where perchance Some Land of Promise may be just descried. Whilst " distance lends enchantment to the view.'' IDYLLS OF THE QUEEN. IDYLL THE FIRST. THE CAMP OUTSIDE JERUSALEM. HE softened splendours of the setting sun, After the sultry day's oppressive glare, Illumed the heavens with beauty. Lovely Isles Of gold and ruby, amethyst and pearl. Floated in seas of lustrous liquid blue ; Each little island, with its bays and creeks. Its mountain peaks and sunUt radiant plains. Seemed fit abode for angels. 36 Bright- winged "life" Alone seemed wanting to perfect the scene Of this fair picture of Elysian fields. But this sweet vision faded like a dream. The harvest-moon arose ; clear, glittering stars, And calm-eyed planets gazing at the world. The chill of night came down with warning touch To send the watchers into sheltered tents. Upon a coign of vantage that o'erlooks Jerusalem, four large pavilions stood, The summer camp of the young Fairy Queen, And three fair maidens of high rank and birth Whose names historic had been laid aside. Merged in the higher titles each had won Of Faith and Hope and Love. 37 Three other tents Were near. Lord George Glenroy, Sir Harold Erie, Sir Hubert Falconer, abode in these ; Their dragoman and servants of the camp Had other two ; some distance off, apart. Quaint lamps were lit, wine and refection served Within the chief pavilion ; converse bright Flashed words from mind to mind, and as they sate, The Queen gave utterance to the thoughts aroused By the fair vision of the sunset scene : " Are not these lovely sunsets of our lives Sent to refresh us on Life's pilgrimage With auguries of fairer joys to come, When our enfranchised sOuls shall range thro' space Untrammelled by this outer ' mortal coil ' ? " If on mere sheets of mist and murky clouds, 38 The great Magician, Sun, with pencilled light Can paint such scenes as these to glad our eyes, What may we not expect in days to come, When, soaring upward, visiting each world. We are permitted thus to travel wide Thro' God's unnumbered realms of light and life ? " For these fair future worlds will glad our sight With the defined realities of shape, Clear, fine, and sharp-cut outlines, solid forms. Massive in grandeur ; rugged mountain cliffs, Coast-lines and headlands, with sun-lighted seas Rolling their sparkling waves on golden sands ; Calm lakes will glisten, mountain torrents fall. And on the plains fair cities, new and strange. Peopled with all varieties of life. Will ope their gates of gold, besprent with pearls, Inviting us to enter and explore The ever-varied wonders they contain. 39 " Those who in each grand sphere of ' Trial-Life ' Have fought and conquered all besetting sins, And thus have won unspeakable delights, Will in each planet see such miracles. Such wonderful diversities of life, Such infinite varieties of thought. Such strangenesses of action and idea, Such curious dwellings, customs, and costumes. Such marvellous inventions, novel powers. Such histories and knowledge, here unknown. That all Eternity will be too short For us to see, or know what God hath made. "What free and joyous interchange of thought With all the highest, brightest, fairest, best. Of those who came and played their splendid parts On this, our little world, and went before To wait our coming, and to welcome us To those delightful lands where now they dwell. 40 What full, refreshing gladness will be ours, To range with them thro' all these myriad scenes ! " But whilst we thus may cheer each other on With visions of exceeding great reward, The Present is around us with its needs, And ' Hope ' and ' Faith ' must spur us on to act. And ' Love ' inspire our hearts to do and dare." The three fair maidens by their Queen invoked Answered the challenge with a modest grace In words that lightly shaped themselves to song. First Faith, with clear calm touch, awoke some chords Responsive to her deep indwelling thought. And thus revealed that thought with music's aid : 41 " Faith were unfaith without glad Hope, sweet Love, Hard, cold and cruel as a cynic's sneer ; Rigid on earth and impotent Above ; The sword of bigotry, the scourge of fear." Then Love took up the strain with gentler tone : " Love were too frail, too liable to error. Without the firm support of Hope and Faith ; Seeking mere pleasure, it would shrink from terror. Or be distraught by false love that betray eth." Next Hope confessed that her unaided wings Might soar, indeed, at peril of a fall : " Hope were too sanguine and too swiftly chilled Without Faith's calmness and without Love's glow. Too vaunting, too aspiring and self-willed To give safe guidance thro' this world below. 42 But linked together by our gracious Queen We urge our knights to hear and heed her voice. Fight the good fight, sirs, let your swords be keen, Win victories to make the world rejoice !" With gracious smile the Queen conveyed her thanks To these Three Graces for their woven song, Then to her Counsellors addressed these words. "Jerusalem, once 'golden,' now forlorn In leaden gloom and sullen apathy ! A by-word 'mongst the nations ! the mere thrall Of the false prophet and the scornful Turk ; A solemn mockery, a standing miracle Of desolation, squalor and contempt. Shunned and deserted thro' the centuries By the oppressed and ever vagrant Jews. " Why, with the wealth enormous, fabulous, Held in the hands of some few ' lords of gold,' 43 Princes of Israel ; yet, self-banished thence, Scattered amongst the nations far and wide : Why, with this ample power to redeem Their Holy City from the Infidel,— Why is it left neglected, desolate ? " Then Harold Erie made answer : " Many minds Have pondered on this portent ; I recall A foregone converse with an aged seer, Who, as he near approached the gates of death, From those half-opened gates received some light By which he strove to answer why this is, And why thro' all the ages this has been ; This is his scroll, wilt please you that I read ? " " We seek for guidance, let us hear his thought ! " 44 " ' Hereditary bondsmen, know ye not, Who would be free himself must strike the blow ? ' " Thus spake th' inspired Bard ; then Greece arose, And after years of fight shook off her foes. " Now, once again, the Moslem power dread Before the Cross retreating, hides its head : — Never again 'twill hold the world at bay, Its grasp relaxes from its ill-got prey. Ye men of Israel ! now, at last, the hour To wrest your country from the heathen's power ! Now, 'To your tents, O Israel !' rise in might. And prove that ye, too, for your land can fight. The Crescent wanes, let not its baleful fires Affright you from the city of your sires : Gather your hosts from North and South and West, Send to the East your bravest and your best. Up with your standards, march with flags unfurled. No longer be the vagrants of the world. " No more like vagabonds and gipsies roam, Without a country and without a home. No more mere sojourners in every place, A shunned, distrusted, tolerated race. " Altho' no longer spat upon and spurned, No longer prisoned, tortured, chained, and burned, 45 Ye are but aliens go where'er ye will, In modem Babylons mere bond-slaves still ; Bond-slaves of Mammon, gloating o'er his hoards, Bound by his golden soul-corroding cords : Awake ! arise ! to higher, nobler life, And win your country back with gallant strife. Are ye alone degenerate, hopeless cowards ? Have ye no Bayards, Godfreys, Richards, Howards, No Garibaldi, Washington, or Tell, To fight with tyranny and break its spell ; No Joshua to strike hard for Israel? " With your vast numbers and your vaster wealth, Your subtle minds, your vigour, strength and health, Why must ye dwell for ever thus disperst, Like Hagar's offspring by God's wrath accurst ? "Why ? ' Search the Scriptures ! ' therein shall ye find Your Fathers to the True Light ever blind. They slew God's messengers of hope and warning. Blind ! ever blind I with fierce derisive scorning They slew God's Son, yea, slew Him without pity ! Ye dare not seek to win your fathers' city ! A dim fear haunts ye that ye there might meet — Pacing with saddened brow the haunted street — The murdered Saviour. 46 " Neither dare ye go To the dark garden where full well ye know He drained with anguish the last bitter cup Ere Calvary, where He was lifted up To draw all men to Heaven froni earth's hell By bearing anguish more than tongue can tell. " Does it not strike you as a strange portent, That you, to whom Messiah was first sent, Should still reject with scorn this great salvation. And thro' the ages live an outcast nation ? " Adown those ages comes to you His voice. Will ye ne'er hear it, — heed it, — and rejoice ? 'Jerusalem, Jerusalem ! ' it cries, ' Oh ! that in this thy day thou might'st be wise. Ho\\' often with love's wings I yearn to gather Thy children and re\'eal to them their Father.' "Yea, powerless for aye ye must remain — Your outraged land ye ne'er will win again. Self-blinded and self-banished for all time. From that fair kingdom, that delicious clime. Until ye learn at last to bless the Name Of Him who died for you the death of shame. " Awake ! awake ! no longer close your eyes 47 To earthly glory and a heavenly prize ; Accept your symbol, raise your rallying cry, Take up the Cross yourselves, and raise it high !! Once more a faithful people, rise and shine. Led by the power of that Love Divine." After some little thought, the Queen enquired : " Was not your friend a warrior, in his prime ? — With the grand fighting instinct of our race. And the Crusader's fervour at his heart, Warping, methinlcs, the judgment of his head ? " Surely no need exists for brutal war To win the Holy City once again ; Gold and diplomacy, more potent far Than swords and guns, should amply now suffice. If but the wills of those who have the power Could be aroused to action ! 48 " Know we not How, deftly-wielding these two potencies, The wisest statesman of that gifted race Placed Britain's needful guidance on the Nile, And purchased and reclaimed fair Cyprus isle. Are there no statesmen left to carry on Such peaceful conquests to a higher point?" " It needeth not the power of the State To do this deed," Lord George Glenroy replied. " Nor is the will to do such deeds inert, For some few wise and noble pioneers, Stirred by the spirit of Divine unrest, Are using grandly their grand weapon, — 'gold.' "We know these are but scattered beacon-lights. Showing the darkness ere the dawn of day ; Yet, what these few have done, may lead them on To ever larger deeds of vast emprise. 49 For still they find that wisely-wielded gold Is like a Fortunatus' purse for-ever filled With amplest means for every new desire ; Therefore, whilst aiding thus the world's advance, Spreading around peace, plenty, and content. Gold in profusion still remains their own For every pleasure that their hearts desire." " True," said the Queen, " and therefore now henceforth Be this our task, to form a league with these Who have already proved the power of gold. Urging them on to higher, nobler aims. And using all the influence we possess To crown them with the honour they deserve, Record their deeds in gold, with words of fire ; So that the dull ingratitude that chills The generous impulse of the kindly heart, Shall cease to strangle Effort in its birth. so " Thus may example work its perfect work, And all good motives prompting to grand deeds, Have each its influence on the minds of men.'' " Most wise and Just, oh Queen ! " Sir Hubert said, " For each man's action springs to life and light From some distinctive motive that presides By long inheritance o'er all the rest : If therefore we would touch the proper chord In that most complex instrument, the soul, We must first know its inner harmony. " Its highest tones are blended, Faith, Hope, Love, And in the highest souls these rule supreme. Lacking no other motive high or low To utter forth the splendid harmonies Springing spontaneous as from Angel's harp ; But other minds by other motives moved Await the skilled musician's potent touch ; — 51 But hark ! what harsh discordant cries are these, Mingled with roar of flames and crash of walls. Great heaven ! The whole city seems on fire ! " Aye, it was even so. E'en as they sate The curtains of the tent were opened wide By scared attendants, and a brilliant glare Shot high into the darkness of the night. Her faithful knights and erst-while counsellors Went forth to aid in fighting back the flames. The Queen and her fair maidens stood entrance4 Watching the weird destroyer from afar. Resistless Fire in its splendid rage Hath a fierce glare and glory so sublime. So wondrous in its brilliance, that awhile 52 It seemed to fascinate the straining gaze, And merge all thought in silence and in sight. But as the human cries and screams arose, Thrilling above loud shouts of hoarse command, The Queen gave orders to prepare the tents For any sufferers that might escape, Or hitherward be brought by rescuers. The large pavilions of their Summer camp Were now a welcome refuge for distress. Despite all effort, fast the fire spread. Destroying all before it as it ran ; Chasing the flying groups from house to house, From street to street, with swift increasing speed, Until the frantic crowds, made blind by fear, Crashing together in their headlong flight. Struggling and fighting with demoniac rage. 53 Were crushed and strangled in vast piles and mounds Choking the streets and blocking all the gates. No coolness and no courage aught availed To check the horrors of this frenzied fear. A few were rescued by the Queen's brave knights, A few escaped as 'twere by miracle, — Hundreds, despairing of all exit else, Clambered and leapt from off the city walls To meet another and more lingering death, — Whilst many thousands perished wretchedly, Crushed, suffocated, trodden down and burnt ! For ever with a louder, fiercer roar, All through that dreadful horror-stricken night The fire-demon leapt from house to house, From court to street, from street to market place From mosque to minaret and palaces. 54 Now reaching stores of corn or oil or wine, And blazing up with wild exultant joy As if with hope to set the clouds on fire ! Now touching magazines with powder filled And bursting with this thunder of the earth, Hurling vast fragments high into the air, Scattering destruction with resistless force ! Such sights, such sounds appal the stoutest hearts. But lo ! the miracle of Charity ! Our Fairy Queen and her fair maidens three Were so absorbed in tendence, binding wounds. Giving restoratives to fainting pain, Bathing with cooling balm the dreadful burns. Soothing with gentle words the frenzied minds Of those bereft of all they once held dear, — 55 That all these sounds seem but a troubled dream, And all these sights scarce heeded and scarce seen Three fugitives alone unscathed by fire Escaped the dangers of that awful night. One was a Patriarch fully four-score years, But with the latent energy endowed Of the antique stern prophets of his race, Like grand Elijah come to life again. Another was an Arab, lissome, lithe As a young panther, and with all its grace. The third, a maid of Judah with dark eyes Of lustrous tenderness ; beseeching, soft, Yet glowing bright with far-down depths of fire, Where Love lay hidden in a child-like sleep Till womanhood should rouse him from his dream. 56 This little maid with gentle innocence Approached the Queen and touched and kissed her hand Then the old Patriarch came, and bending low Craved her protection for his grandchild Ruth ; But the kind Queen, with gentle graciousness, Laid a soft hand upon the maiden's head, And from that touch a thrill of holy peace Passed like soft music through a troubled soul. These three had 'scaped as 'twere by miracle From such dread scenes of mad ferocious strife, Such horrent peril and such ghastly fear, That the poor child was wildered and distraught With glare of fire and the sight of blood And faces all distort with agony. Her Grandsire, wisely, at the first alarm — Deeming her life more precious far than gold — Had roused his Arab guest, and these two fought 57 Shoulder to shoulder through the surging crowds, — Ere they had crashed together in wild fear, — Clearing a way for her and gaining thus The Zion Gate in safety all unhurt. Few words sufficed to tell this simple tale, Which told gave place to action. All now joined In the good work of binding up the wounds, Soothing the dying, bearing forth the dead. Yea, like an awful nightmare was that night, — A night that seemed a week, a month, a year To those enduring varied agonies ; For pain destroys all measurement of Time, Straining the minutes into crawling hours. Hours into days and months, and months to years. E'en to the Queen and knights and maidens three, 58 And these three others, suffering no pangs, It seemed as if the morning ne'er would dawn. But the vast Sun uprising with a burst Of Heaven-sent glory, touched the distant hills, And climbing swiftly o'er the mountain peaks Dulled with its briUiant rays the angry glare Of earth-born fire wreathed in clouds of smoke. The fatal fury of the night -born wind Which, like a scourge, had beaten on the flames And sent them rushing on from house to house Like demons fleeing from the wrath to come, Had ceased, and settled to a sullen calm. So brooding Desolation reigned supreme, Sated with horror, gloating o'er its work. Ruin, destruction, death in all its lorms Had triumphed, and Jerusalem was doomed. S9 Then flashed the wires to tell this to the world, And the Queen's message followed, sent to those Princes of Israel and great Lords of Gold With whom it rested henceforth to restore The city of their ancestors. " Come," it said, " Come and behold this ruin." Few refused Obedience to this summons ; but meantime, She, with her counsellors, sent far and wide For help and succour for the destitute Who had escaped from fire, to die of want, Save for that help and succour from the Queen. Then dangers gathered round her, unawares ; The prowling Arab brigands from the hills. Like vultures gathered by the scent of blood, Swooped down on the Dead City. Thus, one eve When rashly wandering forth without a guard. 6o The Queen and Ruth were seized and borne away, And held for ransom in their hidden lair. These stealthy ruffians had marked down their prey,- Prepared swift Arab horses for the flight, And forced the Queen and helpless Hebrew maid To mount and ride with them at maddest speed Across the open plain and up the steeps Until they reached the dark deep-hidden cave Henceforth to be their prison till, by threats And brutal cruelty, they could extort Enormous ransom. Strange ! yea, passing strange ! On that wild ride, lit by the soft calm moon. The royal captive felt no shadowed fear ; The steed that bore her on with bounding strides With easy, swift, elastic energy, — Eager, yet docile, easily controlled. 6i And with fine instinct answering to the touch Of the light gentle hand upon the rein- Seemed to impart his courage and his fire To the fair royal lady that he bore ; And she, of late much worn and overstrained With many cares, found in that evening ride A strange exhilaration and delight. The perfumes from the cedars, pines, and flowers. The balmy, soft refreshment of the air As they rushed thro' it swifter than itself, Cooled the hot brow and soothed the wearied head The varied outlines of the distant hills Sharply defined against the dark blue sky ; Ravines with moonlit waters in their depths ; Wide plains with marble ruins oft bestrewn, The relics of old cities long since dead ; The rhythmic music of her swift steed's stride Stretched to the gallop, beating perfect time. 62 Suggested old-world ballads, minstrels' tales Of Saracens, crusaders, damsels, knights, Escapes and rescues, flashing swords and lance, Chivalric love and splendid hope and faith ; — These all combined to banish sense of fear. Making that wild, weird ride a vivid dream. Perchance the cheerful courage that ignored All dread of danger might have had its source In the bright, nebulous, half-formed idea That whilst thus riding, possibly to death. Death merely meant the meeting in high Heaven With him, her loved and lost, for whom she mourned Perchance this nerved her to a splendid calm When, ushered in with some rough deference. They found themselves confronted with the chief. Surrounded by his savage, scowling band. 63 This dauntless courage, and this calm sweet grace Of one from birth accustomed to command, Abashed the chief, who doubtless had supposed To see a weeping suppliant at his feet ; Hence with an Eastern reverence he bent In homage to his captive. Timid Ruth, Inspired by her mistress, quelled her fears And tremblingly essayed to play her part As the interpreter betwixt the twain. Brief was the colloquy — the ransom named — Which paid would set them free — Was on short consultation bluntly told ; And bread and salt was then before them placed In token of rough hospitality. More sinned against than sinning were these men, The victims and the scourges of misrule. 64 Unscrupulous, fierce, cruel, cowardly, Treach'rous, revengeful, — they still retained Towards these two helpless captives just a sense Of manly pity and rough courtesy. Upraising for them in the spacious cave A tent wherein they might take rest apart. But little sleep was theirs throughout that night ; Time was too precious to be spent in dreams. Action was now impossible, but subtle thought Came to their rescue, with suggestive plans. During the days that followed on the fire, Ruth had at times been sadly overwrought By the fierce strain upon so young a mind, And at such times the Queen had soothed the child By that mysterious power of the will, 65 Conveyed by waving movements of the hands, From brain to brain. So sensitive she proved, That now to both it seemed this occult force Might be so heightened and intensified As to set free the spirit-self within, And send it on a mission far away. Therein lay hope of rescue. Thus 'twas planned That on the morrow, Ruth should seek the chief And tell him that large treasure was concealed Under the ruins of a certain house Within the city, Treasure vastly more Than largest ransom for the captive Queen. Thus they foresaw that on the morrow night. He and a chosen few would take the maid 66 To show the spot and bring the prize away ; But ere that night the Queen's mysterious power Should be essayed to set Ruth's spirit free To carry words of warning and command To her old Grandsire. Now speed we back Upon the wings of thought, and see what happed When the Queen's Ladies found their mistress gone. "Love '' was distraught, but Faith and Hope aroused Her counsellors. Swift at the first alarm Lord George Glenroy and Hubert Falconer Took horse, and ranged the country west and north ; Sir Harold Erie and the young Arab chief, Abdoulah, rode out far and wide to south ; The vigorous Patriarch, Ben Israel, Seizing his staff, explored the land to east. 67 Needless to tell, no trace could any find Of their lost Queen or the young Hebrew maid, So, one by one, they all returned to camp, Baffled and weary, anxious and perplext. "Love " fell a- weeping, but bright "Hope" and "Faith" Whispered, " To-morrow, forth again, brave knights ; Take now a little rest and wait the dawn ! " So whilst all rested and some fell asleep. The Patriarch watched and waited. Then a "Voice," Seeming far off, as from a distant land, But yet so softly, sweetly, bell-like clear. Spake in Ruth's well-known tones and said these words ; " To-morrow, about midnight, meet me near Our ruined house within the city gate ; Bring the Queen's knights attired in Arab garb 68 Like to Abdoulah ; he and they well-armed ; Four brigands there will bring me to seek out Our buried gold as ransom for the Queen. The knights must fight and seize and bind the four, Then mount their horses and ride back with me ; Six other bandits here keep watch and ward, But they are cowards and no match for men. Bring me a dagger to defend my Queen." So the Queen's spell had worked, and sent the voice As herald to the rescue. The Patriarch mused In awe-struck wonder ; doubting if he dreamed Or really heard, in verity, these words. Then, as with knitted brows, he sate and gazed Into black darkness — slowly a soft haze Transparent, luminous, but void and vague. Seemed by some strong attraction to be drawn 69 Into the semblance and the shadowy shape Of his beloved grandchild, gentle Ruth. It vanished when he raised his outstretched hand, But he no longer doubted. With the morn He roused the knights and told them all the words, And the weird vision that confirmed the words. Perchance some doubted, but 'twas well resolved. That failing other search to find the Queen Ere night-time came again, they would fare forth Appareled and well-armed for this strange quest. " Love " was consoled, and loyal " Faith " believed. Bright " Hope " sent forth the knights with eager hearts For the day's search or midnight rendezvous. Once more all search was useless. Therefore night 70 Found them alert and ready, well-concealed Amidst the ruins waiting what might chance. Abdoulah listening just outside the gate, Heard afar ofif the stealthy, muffled tramp Of Arab horses coming slowly on. Anon the brigands and the captive maid, Leaving their horses tethered, entered in. And hurriedly began their midnight search ; Then, at a signal, forth rushed all three knights And swift Abdoulah from their hiding-place. Each grasping one grim miscreant by the throat With levelled pistols pointed at their heads ; Resistance being hopeless — thus attacked — They yielded, and were pinioned hand and foot. Then there was mounting in hot haste to reach The brigands' lair ere morning light revealed Strange faces, masquerading in disguise. n The raiders happily had brought a steed, Ready pack- saddled for the bags of gold; This was unsaddled, and with easy vault Abdoulah backed him, riding with the rest ; A welcome aid, making assurance sure ; So with a gallop o'er the open ground And wary climbing up the steep ascent. They reached the cave, and leaving Ruth outside. Rushed in with sword and pistol in each hand. 'Short, sharp, decisive was the wild mel6e ! Two ruffians were disabled in sword-fight, Another shot, and the remaining three Sullenly yielded, and were seized and bound. Then came the Queen from forth her inner tent, 72 Thanking Abdoulah and her gallant knights, For rescue from this peril overpast. The horse that bore her hither was brought forth, But ere departing, she and Ruth with skill Bound up the bandits' wounds and gave them charge To free their comrades at the break of day. And, on condition that both these, and those Who would be also freed on their return. Should leave the country and be seen no more, — No punishment should wait them for this deed. Nay more, if some or all forswore ill lives And sought some honest calling or career, Aid and encouragement should help them up. Then back rejoicingly the Queen and knights, Ruth and Abdoulah, rode and gladly reached Their camp by daybreak, seeking needful rest. 73 Meantime thro' all the night the Patriarch watched Over the other captives, pondering with care What could be done with these to guard his hoard From future depredation at their hands. No law was in this land, save such corrupt And venial mockery of law that all appeal For justice and protection to the state Was simply courting larger robbery. Then the fierce voices of his ancestors Rang in his ears, " Stone them to death ! Slay, smite them with the sword ! They are God's enemies as well as thine ! " His eyes flashed vengeful fire, his sword upraised, When a soft hand was laid upon his arm. And, pausing, he beheld the Fairy Queen 74 With sweet compassion lighting all her face With a strange radiance. Shamed, he dropped the sword And bent his head in awe-struck reverence. " What wouldst thou do, Ben Israel ? slay bound men ? Kill thine own honour with a hideous crime ? What demon tempted thee to this foul deed ? " The Patriarch stammered forth the poor excuse. That 'twas "to save his treasured gold for her, The tender grand-child else left desolate To the untender mercies of the world." " Fear not, Ben Israel," then replied the Queen, ■" Thy gentle Ruth henceforth shall be my charge. And where I go, thy loved-one still shall go." " But for the treasure, why need this be lost? 75 Unbind these men, make compact with them now. Swear them by Allah if thou think'st it well, To do thee service for a fair reward j A large reward ; not stinted, starved, or grudged. "Vast is thy hoard of gold, secreted wealth. The growth of centuries of wild misrule, Well canst thou spare enough, and feel no loss, To make it possible for these to turn From evil ways and so redeem their souls." The greed of gold fought for the Patriarch's soul. Striving to harden still the old man's heart ; But that mysterious influence that swayed All lower natures by the higher will. Prevailed, and Israel did the Queen's behest ; Unbound the brigands, promised them a tithe Of all the treasure that they could unearth 76 From out the ghastly ruins of his house. But watched them warily till all was found. Soon after this, whilst still they worked, well watched. Many great lords of gold, of Hebrew blood. Arrived in answer to the Queen's command. And at the council held within her tent Glenroy and Harold urged this argument. " Sirs," said Glenroy, ''ye see how this old man And all his ancestors far dating back To the Crusaders' era, and perchance Still farther back into the dim remote First conquests by the war-like Saracens, — Have saved and hoarded, cunningly concealed. Fabulous stores of silver, jewels, gold ; Bethink ye, lords, is he the only one. Or his the only wealthy family. Trading and gaining, hiding wealth away. Thro' all these centuries of fierce misrule ? " " Consult the man himself," said Harold Erie. " His intellect is sharp and keen and clear, And craft has not extinguished honesty. His nature is a noble one, tho' stern, And hath been touched to such fine issues now By the sweet influence of our gracious Queen, That his large knowledge will stand out revealed In the clear sunshine of full, radiant truth.'' Then Israel's princes bade the Patriarch say All that he knew concerning hidden hoards. And he replied with much clear evidence To show that countless millions were thus stored And doubtless could by careful search be found. " But," said Ben Israel, " sirs, ye must beware. Now that these Arabs have got scent of gold, Not to delay swift action, — for the Turk Will hear of it betimes, and then refuse 78 All offers to redeem the Holy Land From his rapacious, grasping, blighting sway. " Therefore, great lords, I counsel ye at once, Without a day's delay, approach the Porte, — Make him a princely offer for the land, On sole condition that the compact 's sealed And ratified upon the terms agreed. " The Porte is poor, your wealth is very great. The time is ripe for action, — waste not time." " Fair reason, sirs," then added Harold Erie, ^ " Full reason ye may urge for urgent haste ; The land is lawless ; fierce marauding bands Lurk in the hills ; and to repel these hordes Needs men and money from the needy Turk. "More money, far more money than he hath 79 Must be expended to rebuild the place, Hence if you offer him what most he lacks You free him from a task beyond his strength." " Thi^ is the tide in your affairs, my lords, Be wise and take it ! " gently urged the Queen. But Hernveldt (keenest of these millionaires) Slowly replied, with world-wise reasonings : " Princess or Queen, we know not which to say When we address thee, gracious lady, here ; In England, a Princess, but here we own A Queen, and reigning by the right divine Of nobleness, with grace and wisdom joined : " We thank thee and thy learned counsellors, And this old Patriarch, for the reasons urged For our fulfilment of this enterprise ; But I, with all my colleagues, ask ourselves 8o Where is our part in this? What good to us To purchase Palestine and then rebuild Jerusalem for others to enjoy ? " As a mere speculation, on the chance Of buried treasure, 'tis chimerical ; Too vague, too dubious, hardly ' good enough,' To use a term much quoted upon 'Change." " Is gold the only ' good ' in this your world ? " Said Harold Erie with just a touch of scorn, " Is it quite ' good enough ' to be your god? " What has it done for you ? consider, sirs ! " Fine clothes, grand houses, horses, carriages. Obsequious servants, troops of summer friends. Who like the minnows in a sunht stream Would dart away and vanish utterly If the black cloud of grim adversity- Obscured your sunshine or foretold a storm. These things are ' good ' in the hard worldly sense, And not to be despised as partial means Of pleasantness. Vanity and pride Thus gratified, produce complacency. Which lasts a little while, but still craves more, More, ever-more of incense, flattery, Until 'tis surfeited, and then falls sick.'' " You are severe. Sir,'' said Count Guildenstern, " We own indeed that gold whose sole employ Is luxury, or vanity, and pride, Like to the Dead-Sea apples, bright without. Hath merely dust and ashes for the mouth ; But power ! power ! ! power ! ! ! is our aim. " The world 's our chess-board, we can check-mate kings, 82 Take castles, and move bishops, knights and pawns, Just as we choose or list ; a noble game. And one well worth the playing, is it not ? We can make peace or war, control great states, Create new countries where and when we will." " Aye, Count," said Lord Glenroy, '' and doing this, Are ye not somewhat reckless ? sending swarms Of poor misguided emigrants abroad To die of fevers, perish in grim want, Or to return quite ruined to lost homes ? And when you lend your gold to warring kings, If it returns with heavy usury. Is it not tainted with the scent of blood? " But if it pleased you here to re-create The country of your' ancestors, no dread Of such disastrous issue could attend This wise and patriotic enterprise. 83 " This land would yield a tenfold produce well If cultured and redeemed from barrenness. And to this land might hitherward be drawn All the oppressed and miserable hordes Of Hebrew race, now brutally expelled From savage Russia — harried, if too poor, From shrewd America, — disliked, despised, In every city of the whole wide world. " Here they might hold their own in self-respect. No more a cringing, persecuted race. But with large scope for talent, industry, Patience and thrift, regain their energy. Their strength, their manliness, and show the world ' That in their hearts still burn the ancient fires. That here they can be worthy of their sires.' " " My Lord, we own you paint the picture well," Said Baron Rosenheim, " and I confess 84 To some mistakes that we have sometimes made In large endeavours to provide new lands For our oppressed, much persecuted race. What saith your Queen ? In this great game of chess. The 'Queen's move' fitly should decide our plans.'' " Sir, we have noted with rejoicing hope, The large and gracious sacrifices made By you and many noble pioneers To raise your down-cast people flrom despair. 'Tis a grand augury of days to come ; When all, like you, possessing this vast power, Shall be by generous emulation roused To do like noble deeds, and raise the world Into bright gladness from Despair's Dead Sea. " Gladness is but reflected in this world, 8s Like the great sun that, shining down from Heaven Beholds its glorious brightness in the sea, In lakes and rushing rivers and calm pools. Mirrored a thousand times and many-hued. " So ye, the suns of this our darkened earth. May thus rejoice in this reflected joy. " Make others glad, and lo ! the sunshine comes Back with such radiance to your own kind hearts, That henceforth never-more shall cloudy cares, Wearing anxieties, jealous rivalries. Darken the light within you, or obscure Your upward path with mists of apathy. If ye are young, this Heaven-sent gladness fires With generous impulses for ever-more ; If old, the brilliant energy of youth Will be reflected back to warm your hearts. 86 " Can men be gay and joyous, cheerful, bright, In presence of pervading misery ? " We take our pleasures sadly, as of yore, Dulled by the sense of danger in the air, The distant moan of wailing from afar. The vision of starved faces, sunken eyes. And the gaunt forms of lean and shivering men, Shuffling from house to house and street to street, Craving permission to do roughest work So as to earn some bread for wife and child. And finding neither kindness, toil, nor bread. "Who but an utter senseless, selfish brute. Can roll along, wrapped in fine furs and silks, Reclining in a gorgeous chariot. Thro' miles and miles of hideous, squalid streets. Where such poor creatures live their wretched lives, And then drive back to Club or drawing room 87 (Forgetting all the horrors of such scenes) To bandy jests or talk inanities ? " Only a Nero ' fiddles ' whilst Rome ' burns.' " " 'Tis worth some thought," said Hubert Falconer " How long will dangerous Despair endure The pangs of hunger, abject misery, And hopeless horror of these blighted lives. " If wealth would sleep nor dream of Guillotine This recent princely generosity, These grand examples of what wealth can do. Should spur to action all who have the power To wield it to the noblest purposes. And by united effort win success. We do not urge you to relinquish Power, But to withhold it from ambitious states And thus hold back their Rulers from mad war ; 88 Say to such Rulers sternly — ' Keep the Peace ! ' Meantime send forth this vast, resistless power, To lift up Want from hideous wretchedness, And bring it to this sunny, fertile land. Thus warding off this ' dangerous despair.' " For so-called ' Civilized Society ' Is but a pent-up seething molten fire Heaving and ever ready to burst forth When some loud-mouthed, rough-handed demagogue. Clutching at power, madly breaks the shell Of polished culture gilt with burnished gold Which overspreads this fire like a film ; — A trembling crust of brittle, thin veneer. " Sirs, 'tis as perilous to slide thro' life On such a surface, as to cross a lake On thin and thawing ice.'' Then spake the Queen : 89 " Think of the Rainbow, not the Lake of fire ! Hope is a nobler motive than weak fear, And such bright hopes for others and themselves These Lords of Gold can realize at will That Hope, alone, should urge them on to act. " Enormous power is theirs to do such deeds As would transform this drear and dreadful world Into a veritable Paradise, And re-create God's kingdom upon Earth ! " From them this calls for no self-sacrifice ; Scarcely a luxury or pleasure less, But many a luxury and pleasure more. " For who, once having felt the thrill of joy That comes upon us with a glad surprise When we have lifted off the horrent fear Of slow starvation from those stricken down 90 To the last depths of absolute despair, Can doubt that joy more perfect and intense A thousand-fold will recompense all those Who save earth's thousands from a like despair. And who can doubt that wisdom, gold, and skill. Devising splendid measures to reclaim The wilderness, and build this city up From its grim ruins, will enjoy in life The noblest pleasure that this world can give. " The mere creation of material things, A house, a ship, a picture or a poem, Rewards the intellect, inspires the heart With a perennial vigour, and makes life So well worth Hving, that 'twould not seem strange. Nor wearisome, to live upon this earth Through many centuries, perfecting still These fair creations of the brain and hand. 91 " Still more ennobling pleasures will await Those who ' create ' with scarce a thought of self, With no hot feverish cravings for mere fame, Without the taint of envy, jealousy. Or petty spite to mar their high ideal. " A life like this enjoys the consciousness Of aiming ever at a high career, And carries with it an indwelling light That sends a ray of sunny cheerfulness To lighten other lives where'er it dwells. " But when these sunny natures have the power To scatter gladness, hopefulness and health, Broadcast, thro' all the world, whene'er they choose To use this power nobly — then they reap A tenfold harvest of exceeding joy ; Seeing fruition of the seed thus sown. Watching with kindling eyes the steady growth 92 Of peace and plenty, gratitude, content, Born on the earth by effort of their will, But dwelling evermore with them in Heaven. " I see ye smile at forecast of a ' heaven,' Thinking perchance 'tis but a woman's dream ; But, Sirs, bethink ye what a little while Ye play your parts on this poor lower world ! How dull the drama ere the curtain falls, Unless redeemed by grand heroic deeds ! " A tragedy, a comedy, a farce. Then all is over and the lights are out For ever and for ever ! — Is it so ? " Why, even so 'twould surely be unwise To waste this little glimpse of light and life On coarse, low pleasures, and ignoble greeds. Feverish excitements, gambling, cares and strifes, 93 Wild dissipations followed by ennui, And dull heart-sickening, loathing apathy, — When, all the while, there hangs within your reach A life of splendid action, noble deeds, Bright, generous impulses, and ample power To play such glorious parts upon this stage As to bring down the whole world's applause, And blazon forth your names like beacon fires To shed a light far o'er the seas of Time. ' ' If life is short, and death its destiny, It should be cherished, turned to highest use. Not wasted in a brief unhappy dream, A vision of rare beauty and delight. Not an uneasy nightmare, vague and void." A vision of rare beauty seemed the Queen, As with a regal grace she slowly rose. 94 With heightened colour, bright far-flashing eyes Piercing her audience, reading all their thoughts. A power went out from her that touched their hearts With a strong influence, stronger than the words ; And one by one they yielded to the spell, And held grave counsel how to set afoot Xhis enterprize with all convenient speed. Where gold by milKons can be gathered up, And needy states are sick for lack of gold, Negotiations are not difficult. Lord Glenroy undertook the welcome task. In virtue of some influence with the Porte, And carried out with skill a compact firm. Then for three years a gladdened influx came, Of the great Hebrew race to win their land ; 95 Cleared the vast ruins, searched and found great stores Of hidden wealth, which, skilfully applied, Rebuilt the Holy City in grand form. With graceful art and well planned symmetry. Using all aids of science to secure Health and convenience, pleasantness and ease. For all the happy dwellers evermore. The Queen and her three ladies and her knights Departed for awhile, but oft returned With a delighted interest, to watch The rising of this Phoenix from the flames. END OF THE FIRST IDYLL. EPILOGUE. If, like the Queen, you would return at times, To watch the building of this lovely City, Or travel in her suite to other climes, a Rejoicing in her deeds of Love and Pity, Rejoicing, too, to see the Lords of Gold, Roused by the spirit of "divine unrest," Amongst her gallant knights henceforth enrolled, Brave champions of " the right," in earnest quest Of other splendid victories, — Next year. Some records of these battles shall appear. OPINIONS OF THE PRESS. JVOW READY. (Order through all Booksellers.) The Presentation Edition, printed on fine handmade paper, price IS. A PRELUDE TO THE IDYLLS OF THE QUEEN. "In this ' Prelude to the Idylls of the Queen' the author main- tains his high reputation as a writer of refined poetry. The Vision is especially marked by literary grace." — WTiitehall Review. "Written with, good taste and feeling, and many, we can weU believe, will be much interested in and impressed hy this little book." — The Globe. "In this small volume the author of 'Arlon Grange,' in graceful verse, gives a poetical forecast of the future. There is a charming fancy in this ' Prelude,' and readers of it will look for more." — Home and Colonial Mail. "The author of 'Arlon Grange,' 'The Story of a Life,' and ' Harold Erie, ' has just issued a new work, entitled ' A Prelude to the Idylls of the Queen.' His first object here — and in it he admirably succeeds — is to convey a few words of consolation to the Princess May and other mourners from bereavement. Refinement, dignity, and sympathy are the chief characteristics; of the authorV work. What, indeed, can be more graceful in terms and kindly in feeling than the following passage, in which he portrays the gradual coming of solace after sorrow ? — 'But time works wondrous wonders with the young, And as the fiercer throbbings of that grief Lessened and lessened with returning health, A little peace, a gentle ray of light, Stole through a crevice of her darkened heart. And lighted up the chambers of her soul ; Yet darkened oft again, blinded and drowned With hot returning tears. Still there was light ! And so it slowly broadened day by day, Until an almost cheerfulness returned, And grateful consciousness of all the love That strove to lift the burden oflF her heart. Then holy self-communings came to aid The higher nature, latent and obscured By this black dream of infinite despair.' Nothing could well be more felicitous than these lines, and they should serve to enhance the author's strong claims to a foremost place among the most refined and gifted singers of the Victorian era." — Public Opinion, SAMPSON LOW, MARSTON AND COMPANY, LTD. Library Edition, 2s. 6d. Popular Edition, is. "WHAT NEXT?" By the Author of " Wolfern Chace." Although told in the form of a story, "What Next" is thoroughly practical, as the subjoined opinions from practical Editors will indicate. " The author is an optimist of the purest water, and, as such, does more good in the world than perhaps even he himself knows. Hopefulness is infectious ; hopeful aspirations tend to prospective happiness, and prospective happiness is a vast incentive to present exertion in well-doing. There is a singularly beneficial fascination in the vivid realization of a veritable Elysium, in which vice, penury, and uncharitableness find no place. The author has a grand belief in the infinite capabilities of human nature. He gives all men credit for latent nobility, and does his best, as a picturesque poet, a clear-headed scientist, and a genuine philanthropist, to rouse the smouldering spark to flame. " — Whitehall Review. "In these eloquent pages we have a glimpse of the world as it will be. The opening draws a Rembrandt-like picture of the evils of poverty and ignorance, and then the writer in a most effective manner shows how by "the power of gold" all this might be changed. The writing is clear and pursuasive, and all will agree that it were well if such reforms as those the author indicates could only be carried out. The book is decidedly interesting, and it ought to effect good." — Public Opinion. " A dream-like representation of regenerate society. . . The " ever crescent Power of Gold " has become a blessing under the new order, and what is better, society is given to converse instead of chatter. " — Saturday Review. ' ' There is much imagination and originality in this book, which is worthy to ranli with the author's other works." — Morning Post. " A pleasant and vigorously drawn picture of a future age. Amid all this wealth of imagination it would be hard if every vaticination were to go unfulfilled. The author's fancy — now playful, now dignified and quiet, has ample room for display in the boundless field of his day dreams." — Tie Graphic. " To us its chief interest lies in its practical * tone, which is beneficent and hopeful. There is in the world, wealth beyond calculation, and the time is looked for when this shall cease to be a curse and become a blessing. " — Queen. " The transformation is certainly wonderful. The author's de- scriptions, which form a negative satire upon many of the evils and abuses in the present social system, are apt and truthful ; his verse is vigorous, and his imagination vivid. His undoubted powers might well have been exercised upon a more practical • theme. English Churchman. * ' ' Who shall decide when [critics) disagree ? " SIMPKIN, MARSHALL AND CO., LONDON. If a Book is worth reading at all, it is worth reading more than once. To enable readers to judge if this work is worth having, the first volume can be had for 2S. 6d., and the other two at 2,s- (>d. each afterwards. WOLFERN CHACE. " It is very rare now-a-days to meet with a novel which deserves the unqualified praise due to this one, which combines a clever plot, grace of style, and artistic finish, with skilful analysis of character. There are many beautiful passages in this exceptional book, which is undoubtedly one of the few really first-rate novels of the season." — Morning Post. " The story is the old, old story of love, of which the world is never tired, but it is told with a spirit of freshness, a beauty of style, and an undercurrent of fun and humour, which are rare even in the best modern novels." — Public Opinion. " ' Wolfern Chace ' is marked throughout with great power of description, a fine and keen insight into character, and into all the greatness of social life in its manifold aspects. The interest is deeply human, and well sustained from first to last ; the characters are skilfully drawn, and the questions brought occasionally to the front, are admirably debated. " — English Churchman. "Laid in the days of the Prince Regent, this 'chronicle' opens brightly in the midst of the society of the period, which is described with a sparkling felicity that must charm the most veteran novel- reader. The story is so good that we wish our readers to criticize it VI for themselves, so we will keep the plot a profound secret. Let it suffice that the dialogue abounds in bright wit and keen satire, and gives us some charming glimpses of society." — Brief. "A voice from the Past that has the charm of novelty and the interest of unfamiliarity. . I have read ' Wolfern Chace ' with a great deal of honest pleasure." — Academy. " A lively, interesting style ; dialogue very amusing. Well drawn characters." — The Inquirer. " An interesting story, that arrests the attention of the reader by a thread of anecdote and gossip of a very versatile character, with many reminiscences of the worlds of sport and the drama. If Lord William Lennox is not responsible for the work, at least he would find in its author a congenial spirit whose tastes and recollections are singularly ' on all fours ' with his own." — The Field. A few remaining copies can be had frovi SIMPKIN, MARSHALL AND CO., LONDON. The first editions of this work are out of print, a new one is in preparation. The Illustrated Edition of ARLON GRANGE AND A CHRISTMAS LEGEND. The Illustrations are from Drawings, to which the Hundred Guinea Prize was unanimously awarded by Sir Frederick Leighton, P.R.A., W. E. Frost, R.A., and John Pettie, R.A. The Drawings were executed by M. M. Montbard and Eallin, and no expense has been spared to procure the most perfect fac- similes of the originals. " ' Arlon Grange' is written with power, and contains passages of not a little beauty." — Saturday Review. " A very beautiful edition of the charming poem of 'Arlon Grange ;' a gem of the season." — Morning Post. " The author, who has now gained for himself the reputation of one of our leading poets,' has, in his latest work, ventured into a wider field. Not that he leaves the domain in which he has hitherto excelled, or in any way loses sight of the noble task which he has set himself, but in ' Arlon Grange ' there are introduced more varied and romantic episodes than those to which the ' Story of a Life ' and ' Harold Erie ' accustomed us. It has all the feeling and descriptive power which have long been marked as this author's most striking characteristics. " — Graphic. Vlll " The purpose of the author is obviously noble. We admire some of the lyrics exceedingly. " — British Quarterly Review. " Displays powers of a very high order ; there is an ease and harmony about the Unes, a lofty tone of thought, and a skill in con- structing the story, which few who are nowadays called poets have been able to attain." — Land and Water. " We must congratulate the author on having given us a work which has been carefully thought out, and which is at the same time well constructed and wittily told. His verse has the true ring, and his present volume is a welcome addition to the literature of the age." — Hour. FIFTY YEARS IN FIFTY MINUTES : A Review of the Past Half Century. Crown 8vo, paper cover, is. ; cht/i^ is. dd. New Edition, nearly ready. " The proposal is certainly novel and should be successful, as the author's verse is neat, pointed, and pictorial." — Saturday Review. " Regarded as a convenient historical summary the work is excel- lently done ; but, besides this, there is a tire and fervour in his descriptions and a happy conciseness in delineating character which carries the reader along h ithout pause or fatigue from the first page to the last." — Graphic. " The author \% facile princeps with his * Fifty Years.' Some of the passages are very fine and « orthy to take classical rank. He has our congratulations on compelling us to break one of our own rules — never to review, much less quote poetry." — Society. " The difficulty of producing a chronicle in blank verse that shall be neither bald nor prolix, and that shall be dignified without being stilted, is very great ; but the author has overcome every obstacle, and writes in easy flowing verse, exciting admiration by the vivid and terse portraiture of the events narrated. Many of the more striking episodes, persons and events of Her Majesty's reign are hit off in a most felicitous manner, and with much epigrammatic brevity." — Public Opinion. " This picturesque and graphic narrative should have a wide circle of readers. " — Morning Post. " Those who know ' The Battle of the Standard ' do not need to be told that this unpretending volume is the production of a poet. But the author is more than this — he is a clear-headed thinker, a sound upholder of Church and State, and a genuine philanthrophist in the best and wisest sense of the term. The work forms an admirable retrospect of the present reign, and contains many passages which, did space permit, we should like to reproduce." — Pictorial World. THE STORY OF A LIFE. ' ' This book impresses us with the fact that there is much more in- terest attached to a story which, instead of soaring into the imagina- tive realm of gods and goddesses, condescends to describe the joys and griefs of our own households." — Observer. • ' The author takes a higli view of life and its duties. " — Westmin- ster Review, "... Undoubtedly clever, and shows much power both of imagination and genius." — Contemporary Review. "The author is >• truthful analyst of the heart, who has studied carefully and deeply, and who can record his views and conclusions in choice language." — Publii: Opinion. " This book shows marks of unusual power." — Majichester Exavnner. " The illustrations are forcible and imaginative. We have read the volume with pleasure." — Birnungiiam Journal. "... This work has the true stamp of genius upon it." — Christian World. " We are happy to recognise an independence of thought and style, a power of expression, a purity of taste and of moral teaching, which bespeak considerable training, and a classical tone of mind." — Press and St. Jameses Chronicle. " The work is characterized by vigorous and forcible language, and exhibits great, though restrained, fertility of imagination." — Court Circular, " A deeply pathetic story, very tenderly told, is this ' Story of a Life,' which we are assured in an ' o'er true tale.' So charming are some of the home scenes, and so vividly drawn some of the characters, that we should be glad to have at the hands of the same author a domestic story with a happier issue." — Sun. " . . We will not quote more ; it is sufficient to say that 'The Story of a Life ' is very good. We have much pleasure in recom- mending the volume to our readers/' — Queen. XI " The author of ' The Story of a Life' possesses more than the ordinary share of talent. In his works there is imaginative beauty, and much appreciation of what is lofty and pure in life." — Imperial Review. " This work displays exuberance of fancy, accompanied by con- structive skill and ample command of language ; and, amidst the great range of subjects which they embrace, evince concentration and usefulness of purpose, as well as comprehensiveness of thought and illustration. ' The Story of a Life,' in particular, will be read with pleasure and profit ; and several of its passages must retain a firm hold on the memory. " — Morning Post. Notices of Second Edition. ' ' ' The Story of a Life ' is marked by unmistakable genius and taste. The reader's attention will be caught at once, and riveted to the very end of the work." — Standard. " In ' The Story of a Life ' is painted as fair and happy'a home scene as could well be pictured. The author has the talent of ex- pressing his thoughts and feelings in words that cannot fail to touch the hearts of his readers. " — Dublin Evening Mail. "A book which is full of vigorous and graceful writing, which breathes a hopeful and manly spirit, and which paints domestic life in the most winning colours." — London Review. " A purer, truer book than this could scarcely be written. Its moral tone is high ; a broad, healthy. Christian spirit is its distin- guishing characteristic. " — Nonconformist. " The author has constructed with much skill, out of slender materials and simple incidents, a story of deep domestic interest. Xll To appeal to the thoughtful minds of the present time, he does not select his topics from the ripertoire of the past, the story he tells refers rather to the progress of the human mind. His words bear the warm impress of the heart, and touch the reason not less than the imagination of the reader." — Gloucester Journal. A few copies of the original Library Edition at 6.f., and of Part I. at \s., can be had from Simpkin, Marshall AND Co. HAROLD ERLE. "The biography itself is one of great interest, told in graceful, vigorous language enriched with true poetic genius ; but in many passages the poem rises to a far higher, nobler flight, involving points of logic and subtle philosophy, profound truths and delicate criticism, such as a refined and highly cultivated intellect alone could handle and express in their present shape. The work is marked by a power and beauty well worthy of a true poet, for such, beyond a doubt, the author may now claim to be." — Standard. " The subject, in a dramatic and poetic aspect offers strong situations of which the author has not been slow to avail himself. ' Harold Erie ' is marked throughout by the same felicities of expression, the same shrewd and clear sketches of character, which distinguished 'The Story of a Life.' Some charming lyrics are scattered through his pages." — Daily News. " In his previous work the author proved the possession of poetic gifts far above the ordinary standard ; he has a cultured habit of thought and a melodious distinctness of expression, avoids both periphrasis and obscurity, writes simply and to the purpose, and yet Xlll with sufficient polish to bespealc the careful artist. These graces were patent in ' The Story of a Life,' and are recognizable in a still higher form in ' Harold Erie.' " — Orchestra. " Gifted with rare power of satire, with pathos that never trenches on the border-land which so narrowly separates the sublime from its antithesis, with fluency of fancy, with sharpness and incisiveness in his deUneations of scene and character, the author possesses in an eminent degree the elements of a great poet." — Westminster Gazette. " ' Harold Erie' is noticeable for its want of resemblance to the most pretentious poetry of the day. There is in it no widely-abrupt transitions, no bewildering half-insane rhodomontade. The story depends entirely for its interest on its truth to life and nature, and the beauty of the language. The lyrics scattered here and there cause the reader to regiet that the author does not more frequently give us an opportunity of [enjoying such gems of song as this volume contains." — Scientific and Literary Review. ' ' In tracing the career of Harold Erie, the tangled problem of our life is handled with a rare insight into human motives and their results, forming not unseldom the text for deep yet graceful evolution of philosophical and classical iheories."— Journal of Progress. "The author is soon satisfied with showing that he can write as sensationally as any novelist going, and after this striking opening settles down into quiet and easy verse. " — Saturday Review. " ' Harold Erie ' (his latest work) is a biography, and an excel- lently told one. Beginning with his school days, the author felicitously follows his hero's career through youth and manhood. There is a love story interwoven with the plot, which enables the XIV author to display his proficiency in this theme, whilst his descrip- tive power is exemplified in the following word picture of Antwerp. . . ." — Morning Post. " ' Harold Erie ' is a story that will do busy countrymen as well as townsmen good to read." — Agricultural Gaaette. " Having really a story to tell, the author does not bore the reader with endless digressions on all subjects, that can possibly be dragged into notice. The narrative in any form would attract attention, but set forth as it is in graceful and forcible language, it deserves a high place in public estimation." — The City Press. " The book closes with a charming picture of the home of Harold and his sisters in Westmoreland. " — Illustrated Review. " The author's former work won for him high praise, and this proves that it was well bestowed." — Queen. " The story is one of noble self-denial, told gracefully, and with much quiet power ; and from the first to the last page, the links of the chain are unbroken, and the interest never wavers." — Durham Chronicle. " To such of our readers as are still unacquainted with these romances of real life, we recommend them heartily, as pure and touching stories told with power, and in a form which is certain to find favour." — People's Magazine. A few copies of the Lihrary Edition at 3^-. dd. can he had from SiMPKiN, Marshall and Co. cmswiCK PRESS ;— c. whittingham and go., tooks court, CHANCERY LANE.