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 "Fairlight Glen, " "Lovers' seat, " and ot 
 
 3 1924 013 527 332 
 
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 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924013527332 
 

 > 
 
'KIlRLIGHT (flEN: 
 ■■]lGyERS- ^EAT," 
 
 And other POEMS. 
 
 JfMORGAN, 
 
 AUTHOE OF 
 
 HASTINGS : By CAMEEA and ix CANTO. 
 
 
 
 '@a9tiit0S : 
 
 
 
 [NTED 
 
 BY 
 
 BUEFIELD 
 
 & 
 
 PENNELL 
 
 PBIORY 
 
 STREET, CAMBRIDGE 
 
 ROAD 
 
 
 
 3ID0CCX,0VIIt. 
 
 
 
 
 
 y> 
 
 
 
 
 
 cii 
 
 
 
A>^5\T?>5" 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Hastings ... ... ... 7 
 
 Fairlight Glen ... .. ... 9 
 
 Lovers' Seat ... ... ... 17 
 
 The Sweep's Courting ... ... 24 
 
 In the Present it is that 1 Glory ... 28 
 
 Common Things ... ... . 31 
 
 Dog and Master ... ... ... 35 
 
 Things Not Seen Before ... ... 36 
 
 With Infirm Friends ... ... 38 
 
 Oh ! FOR THE Rocks that are out in 
 
 the Sea ! ... ... 39 
 
 "Where are the Friends of My Youth?" 40 
 
 Mid November Morning on the Beach 44 
 
 Drink to the Dead ! ... ... 49 
 
 Birds and Poets ... ... ... 51 
 
ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 The Lovers : Captain Lamb and Miss Boys. 
 FRONTISVIECE. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 The Smitten Tree and the Dripping Well 9 
 
 In the GrLEN ... ... ... 16 
 
 Cliffs Below the Lovers' Seat ... 19 
 
 The Lovers' Seat ... ... 23 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 In the Author's "Hastings: By Camera and 
 IN Canto," he gave a pi-ose account of a visit to 
 the Lovers' Seat, and said : "If, as I hope to 
 do some day, I write on Fairlight Glen, and 
 my muse is not too exhausted to go on to 
 Lovers' Seat, should some sentiment worthy 
 of publication occur to me, I will without fail 
 give it to my readers." 
 
 This little volume is issued to fulfil this 
 promise. Additional interest, however, is attached 
 to the publication, from the fact that in response 
 to his offer of prizes for the best views of 
 Fairlight and Lovers' Seat, about 40 views were 
 sent in. The Committee of " The Hastings 
 and St. Leonards Photographic Society " arranged 
 the award of the prizes, which fell to the 
 photographers whose names are attached to 
 the views now given. 
 
 Other poems written at Hastings are added 
 to those which give the title. 
 
.^■■^■t 
 
 HASTINGS. 
 
 Thou hast a beauty, Hastings, of thine own. 
 
 Though fair, so many a spot, on our fair coast 
 may be. 
 Thy castle sits like king on kingly throne, 
 
 Watching far hills, and vales, and the wide 
 stretching sea. 
 
 Thy beach or east, or west, a rolling range 
 
 Of foaming- breakers shows ; where sounds the 
 rhythmic wave. 
 
 The fitful wind from east to west may change, 
 
 But still the same bright billows, sand and shingle 
 lave. 
 
 The sunshine loves thy shores. Where oft I lie 
 
 And safely bask, when inland hills are cold and sad 
 
 And when north winds whistle relentlessly. 
 
 Thy yellow rocks give shelter still, and I am glad. 
 
 Big in horizon east — the orb of day 
 
 Mid crimson curtains shines in finest golden sheen, 
 And glorious at eve, o'er hills far, far away, 
 
 He sets. Broad sapphire sky set high the whijef? 
 between, 
 
— 8 — 
 
 When strong south winds press heavy on the sea, 
 
 Driving the swollen waves fiercely upon thy shore 
 
 The gazing crowds delighted, watch with glee 
 
 T'he lofty, leaping spray that mounts the sea-walls 
 o'er. 
 
 And who but loves the weather-beaten face 
 
 Of thy hard-handed sons, who nightly sail the seas, 
 
 Snatching from ocean spoils of finny race : 
 
 Or canvas hoisting, scud in sun, before the breeze. 
 
 Thy vales are rich with woods ; with flowers thy lanes ; 
 
 Laughing with beauty that ungrudging Nature gives, 
 Rambling all these among, what heart restrains 
 
 Envy of him who 'midst such splendour daily lives. 
 
 But beauty's keen delights are heights of life. 
 
 On lower lands our daily footsteps, wearied, pace. 
 
 The toil, the care, the hand of steady strife 
 
 Are needed, to uphold this joyous crowning grace. 
 
 Nor may all mortals know, what rapture fills 
 
 The soul that loveth well eartli's gay and common 
 things ; 
 
 In winter's blast, when clouds hide all the hills. 
 
 Sees glint of sunshine somewhere and in gladness 
 sings. 
 
 Many, my kin, have sought thy shelter kind. 
 
 Oh, Hastings ! and have joy'd thy rolling waves 
 to see ; 
 Nor, lingering here, have sought in vain to find 
 
 Renewed strength ; then homeward, grateful, 
 turned with glee. 
 
 Therefore, sing I thy praise, in simple strain, 
 
 Hastings, giver of health and joy to weary men ; 
 
 And holding stores of beauty in thy train. 
 
 Such to my youth ; art now ; and wilt be aye again. 
 

FAIRLIGHT GLEN. 
 
 Fail-light Glen is about 2J miles to the north- 
 east of Hastings. It can be approached either by 
 the path over the East Cliff and crossing Ecclesbourne 
 Glen, or by the road to Fairlight Church; from this 
 road, at a spot about half-a-mile past Ore, a path 
 across the fields leads to the head of the Glen. 
 Here some sheds or stables are passed on the right, 
 and a booth for the sale of temperance drinks, and 
 tea, and cakes, on the left, and then the shade of 
 trees comes gratefully to the visitor. 
 
 The aspect of the Glen, of course, varies greatly 
 with the season of the year. The description that 
 foUows is of a visitor in October. Fairlight abounds 
 in clay ; and the cart road down the upper part of 
 the Glen might almost serve as a picture of a 
 slough of despond, only that the sun glints through 
 the foliage, and all around there is abundant 
 vegetation. The rain, prevented by the nature of 
 the soil from sinking into the earth, runs from the 
 ditches which are choked by weeds and fallen 
 sticks, over the roads and paths, making the 
 pedestrian's way tardy and treacherous. " How- 
 slippery ! " " How sticky ! " are the natural exclama- 
 tions as he carefully picks his way along. 
 
 Whether for the benefit of his horses and 
 cattle, or out of benevolence to the public, I cannot 
 say, but someone has thrown bushes on the roadway. 
 
— 10 — 
 
 thus contributing a very helpful factor to its main- 
 tenance. Proceeding along this road a narrow path 
 is reached that leads to the banks of the Bourne, and 
 just below where the waters are first in evidence to 
 the eye, there is a ledge of rock over which, amid 
 grasses and mosses, they drip to a shallow pool 
 below. There is a recess under the ledge, where 
 the mosses and ferns flourish, and the young men 
 and maidens on a summer's day, can scarce refrain 
 from treading on the larger stones, and holding 
 their hands to feel the cooling drops, or chance 
 convey the moisture to their lips. This is the 
 "Dripping Well." On the bank above, stands the 
 bole of a large tree, dead, and without bark (though 
 remembered as a fine vigorous tree by many) and 
 so made conspicuous by its whiteness. One broken 
 branch bends towards the Well, as if pointing to 
 it. As I sat here, two robins flitted from tree to 
 tree and made pleasant music by their bright, shrill 
 song. 
 
 Descending the pathway by the stream, which 
 by trickling, rather than murmuring, tells you it is 
 alive, you see how the banks are continually falling 
 in and choking the bed, which, however, the rain 
 floods clear. 
 
 Nature by a profusion of ^•egetation ; rough 
 grasses, brambles, bushes, etc., makes the banks 
 sightly, and at most seasons various wild flowers are 
 interspersed amongst the greenery. 
 
 Here and there a small tree, whose supporting 
 soil has been washed away, has fallen across the 
 stream and gives support to the creepers and 
 bramble branches. There are numerous ash, oak 
 and other forest trees, some of them encircled by 
 vigorous ivy growths, and looking like Laocoon with 
 the snakes twisted round his writhing body. 
 
 Soon the valley opens, on the one side the 
 gorse with some scattered golden blossoms shows ; 
 
— li- 
 on the other the bracken, no longer green, but 
 yellow and brown and red, brighter in the rays of 
 the sun now past his meridian. Shortly the sea is 
 in view. Crossing the hidden archway that carries 
 the road towards the Lovers' Seat, over the brook, you 
 are on its eastern side. The sound of the purling 
 stream is heard and the little ravine is deeper and 
 the sides more abrupt. The storm waters have 
 brought down large quantities of soil which Ke in 
 ridges, along which you must tread with caution. 
 Yellow, red and grey are the colours you see 
 mingled in these masses. Passing along the ridges 
 you gain the flatter and safer surface of the lower 
 (iliffs that rise only a few feet above high water 
 mark. The tide is just at its height, and the 
 waves are washing the big boulders and the little 
 caves below, with a smack and a splash, as if vexed 
 that some power restrains them from further advance. 
 Looking around, away to the east, the cliffs rise 
 high and curve round to the point where stands the 
 Lovers' Seat. Below, a rather wide area is occupied 
 by the broken rocks and earth from a considerable 
 subsidence, or landslip which has occurred one 
 cannot say how long ago, but whether 50 or 500 
 years, the sea below and the floods from above are 
 breaking up and carrying to the deep, making 
 material for another shore when Nature rings her 
 next change. 
 
 I sat on the rocks in sunshine and ate my lunch ; 
 the echo of merry laughter and talk coming to me 
 across the little ravine ; for hither in almost count- 
 less numbers, come young men and maidens, old 
 men and children, all alike happy in the pilgrimage 
 to the Lovers' Seat or to the glad brightness of 
 Fairlight Glen. 
 
■my^j ^,1%^'%. 
 
 2 X^v; -Si4i .(.r (,^f^*'i^ 
 
 A^'^^tr^'^A,^.^!^ 
 
 FAIRLIGHT GLEN, 
 
 1 
 
 One power prevails, In hills and dales, 
 
 One force is potent ever. 
 Past bank and brae, Speeds on its way. 
 
 The rill to find the river. 
 
 2 
 
 And naught can hold, In wood or wold 
 
 The falling water's motion, 
 On, on it bears, Hard rock it wears, 
 
 To find its father Ocean. 
 
 3 
 
 O ! Fairlight Glen, Say how and when 
 Thy bourne from yon hill sped, 
 
 Witli fierce unrest. The valley prest. 
 And wrought through rocks of red. 
 
 4 
 
 How moisten'd earth, . Ere long gave birth, 
 To fern, and brake, and bramble, 
 
 How scrub and oak, The hard ground broke. 
 Where now the rabbits scramble. 
 
— 13 — 
 
 5 
 And how glad Glen, For joy of men, 
 
 Dost give wild flowers in Spring ? 
 The wind-flower frail, The primrose pale 
 
 Bluebells thick blossoming. 
 
 6 
 
 .And o'er these flowers. From green-leav'd bowers, 
 
 To blend with babbling burn, 
 Pour'st linnet's song, Or thrushes' strong, 
 
 Or nightingales' in turn ? 
 
 7 
 Nor silent here. When leaves are sere, 
 
 These Autumn woods can be. 
 With sprightly song. Here flits along. 
 
 The robin in his glee. 
 
 8 
 
 As seer or saint, In garments quaint. 
 
 Stands forth yon smitten tree, 
 All down ihe Glen, Past haunts of men 
 
 He gazeth tow'rds the sea. 
 
 9 
 
 Now gracious Heav'n, The rain hath given, 
 
 The gath'ring waters swell. 
 O'er rocky ledge, 'mid fern and sedge, 
 
 They swamp the Dripping Well. 
 
 10 
 
 Some kindly hand, A seat hath plann'd 
 Where branches thick'ning grow. 
 
 Yet not too near, I venture here, 
 Where lovers whisper low. 
 
— 14 — 
 11 
 
 Where else should st;ray, Than leaf)^ way, 
 When tiysting vows are naade, 
 
 Children of man, Who first began 
 Love's life in Eden's shade ? 
 
 12 
 
 Now o'er the banks, In broken ranks 
 
 The ash her fingers flings, 
 And round about. The oak's stem stout, 
 
 The creeping ivy clings. 
 
 13 
 
 At lower grade, In deepest shade. 
 
 Slow runs the rivulet. 
 In broader vale. Where blows the gale. 
 
 Gold gorse and brake are set, 
 
 14 
 
 But oh ! my guide, This valley wide. 
 What broad stream rushing hither, 
 
 With forces strong. These rocks among 
 Did cast them here and thither ? 
 
 15 
 To me replied, My wiser guide. 
 
 Restrain thy fancy growing. 
 This self-same stream. Cut narrow seam. 
 
 Then widen'd with the flowing. 
 
 16 
 
 In angry mood, At times the flood 
 Bears stones and rocks along, 
 
 But not the less. With gentle stress. 
 The brook wears all day long. 
 
MARSCNAWSKI, PHOTO, 
 
 1 ELECTRIC ENGftAVNa CD 
 
 THE GLEN.^Looking upwards. 
 
— 15 — 
 
 17 
 And from the sides, The soil that glides, 
 
 Is washed by midmost stream. 
 On, on 'tis borne, And reft and torn, 
 
 Scarce rests where bright waves gleam. 
 
 18 
 
 And now the roar. On nearer shore. 
 
 Of Ocean smites my ears. 
 And Fairlight Bay, in colours gay. 
 
 Her towering cliffs uprears. 
 
 19 
 
 Here clay and sand. In ridges stand 
 
 And front the sunny South, 
 And rock and tree. Here mingled be, 
 
 Choking the stream's wide mouth. 
 
 20 
 
 But Winter rain, Will come again. 
 
 And swell the quiet i-iver, 
 And waves that meet, Their strokes repeat, 
 
 To grind them down for ever. 
 
 21 
 
 Oh, wondrous change, In Time's wide range, 
 
 The sea devours the shore, 
 Then back doth cast. And earth holds fast 
 
 Soil, Ocean held before. 
 
 22 
 
 In vain, oh. Sea ! I ask of thee. 
 
 Or you, ye cliflfs aspiring. 
 What ages long, This bright brook, song 
 
 Hath sung, to you, untiring ? 
 
16 — 
 
 23 
 
 Rather my voice, Shall loud reynce 
 
 That happy now I listen, 
 See this bright vale. And yon white sail, 
 
 And all the waters glisten. 
 
 24 
 
 Farewell ! Fairlight ! Thy valley bright 
 
 I may not see again, 
 And years may glide. But will abide. 
 
 This dream of Fairlight Glen. 
 
LOVERS' SEAT. 
 
 The story of the lovers who made this spot 
 famous, is told at length by Mr. T. B. Brett, of 
 Norman Eoad, St. Leonards,* who has confirmed 
 every particular by the most diligent search into 
 legends and poems, private records and public docu- 
 ments. Stripped by him of what is mythical and 
 uncertain, it is briefl.y this. 
 
 About the year 1785, Charles Lamb, a native 
 of Eye, was lieutenant on board the Revenue Cutter 
 "Stag," in the Preventive Service off this coast. 
 His daring and successful exploits in numerous 
 encounters with smugglers had made him popular ; 
 and although never so gazetted, he was generally 
 known as Captain Lamb. At a ball given some- 
 where in this part of the country, he met Miss 
 Elizabeth Boys, the daughter of Mr. Samuel Boys, 
 of Hawkhurst, and they became mutually attached 
 to each other. 
 
 The young lady's father, for reasons not ascer- 
 tained, forbade their union ; and when Miss Boys 
 showed determined attachment to her lover, sent her 
 to the house of a relative at Fairlight, to prevent 
 their further intercourse. But her lover discovered 
 her retreat, and the shelter of this clijEf is said to 
 have been their favourite and frequent meeting place, 
 
 ' See "The True Story of the I,overs' Seat," T, B, BRETT, St, Leonards. 
 
18 
 
 One night the gallant lieutenant brought a boat to 
 the bay below, and the ladj', braving the darkness of 
 the night and the roughness of the path, descended to 
 meet him ; and he bore her away to Hastings, and 
 thence by road to London. The official register at 
 St. Clement's Danes Church in the Strand, shows 
 that they were married there on the 16th January, 
 1786. 
 
 Although Mrs. Lamb was deprived of her patrimonj- 
 by the relentless anger of her father, the pair were 
 not in poverty, for Lieutenant Lamb had property of 
 his own, and on retiring to Salehurst, in Sussex, he 
 there erected a house where his married life was 
 spent. Their union was blessed with one child,* a 
 daughter, who subsequently married, and with whom 
 Mrs. Lamb resided in her later days. 
 
 But Lieutenant Lamb had spent all his early 
 life at sea, and his old habits and associations drew 
 him thither again. He was unfortunately drowned, 
 whilst cruising in Southampton Waters, and his body 
 being found some time after near Bognor, was buried 
 at Thakeham, near that place. 
 
 Of the death and burial of Mrs. Lamb no record 
 is found, but it is stated that towards the close of 
 her life, she visited Hastings, and whilst staying at 
 the Marine Parade was known, on more than one 
 occasion, to have visited the scene of her former happy 
 exploits ; thus giving testimon}' in some degree, to 
 the truth of the legend, and to the identity of the 
 locality of the Lovers' Seat. 
 
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Poem on the Lovers' Seat. 
 
 Can puny man whom Nature makes her sport 
 Grild Nature's self with heavenly glory ? 
 Scenes to whose beauty human eyes pay court 
 More radiant make with light of lasting story. 
 
 2 
 
 E'en so. Or else, how grows the common sod 
 From common earth to Faith's most holy shrine ? 
 How find pure hearts where only mortal trod 
 Footprints illumin'd with love and light divine ? 
 
 Here, where wild winds the solid rocks do fret, 
 And smiting rains leave record light but clear, 
 Love's gentler hand his signet seal hath set 
 Drawing his worshippers from far and near. 
 
 Praised be the power that moulds all mortal things 
 No marv'Uous tale from far, or world unknown 
 Around this rugged spot weird witch'ry flings ; 
 Legend of human love, lives here alone. 
 
20 
 
 5 
 
 Oh, sacred string ! that feeblest hands may strike, 
 First thrill that thro' all sentient being ran 
 Key to the song of grove and cot, alike, 
 Perennial source of joy, to mortal man ! 
 
 6 
 
 How shall I sing what peerless poet sings, 
 Yet pow'rless leaves unsung the depths profound "^ 
 How tender love in maiden's bosom springs. 
 Or youth's fierce passion leaps o'er ev'ry bound ''' 
 
 7 
 Easier to tell how wrathful, sullen sire 
 Nurt'ring his own wild will and petty pride, 
 To cheat, in sailor's heart, the growing fire. 
 His darling banish'd to this country side. 
 
 8 
 Oh, Love ! fabled so blind ! Blind is the eye 
 That notes thee not so quick in ev'ry sense. 
 For where thy throne is set dull passions fly 
 Aw'd by thy godlike, high intelligence. 
 
 9 
 
 'Mid roar of seas, and rush of winds that blew. 
 Love's ear the echo caught, of gentle feet 
 That trod yon Glen, and answ'ring eager flew 
 To consecrate this spot the Lovers' Seat. 
 
 10 
 
 Here, oft, when eve her modest mantle spread 
 Or gen'rous morn lent earth his garb of gold 
 Whilst round love's lustrous eyes their radiance shed 
 Lips whisper'd low th' eternal tale untold. 
 
— 21 — 
 
 11 
 
 Oh ! hallow'd spot ! where loving arms entwin'd 
 And faithful hearts their faithful vows reuew'd ; 
 Oh ! bare, grey rock ! to sympathetic mind 
 More glad than garden fair with flow'rs bestrew'd. 
 
 12 
 
 Yet may not holiest love be consummate 
 Save Heav'n and man the sacred tie proclaim, 
 And mutual vows, that naught but death shall bate 
 Be utter'd clear, in Love's exalted name. 
 
 13 
 
 Though barr'd each holy altar here around. 
 Love laughs ! for Love and Freedom brethren are, 
 Aid him, free winds ! and thou, oh ! depth profound. 
 And crescent moon, and Love's own evening star ! 
 
 14 
 
 Waft yon frail skiff, in shade of sombre night. 
 To Fairlight's shore, on softly swelling wave, 
 Guide glimmering lights the gentle feet aright, 
 That tread these rugged cliffs with heart so brave. 
 
 16 
 
 Fair Hastings' strand ! that martial hosts have trod, 
 Look from red Mars to Venus brighter star. 
 Smooth thy rough roads o'er sandy rock and sod, 
 For eager twain that seek the city far. 
 
 16 
 
 Heav'n speeds the way where high resolve of love, 
 With faith infus'd moves youth's impetuous soul, 
 All nature bends t' imperious will above, 
 And powers unseen help to the happy goal. 
 
— 22 — 
 
 17 
 Ring joyous bells ! Though city streets are cold, 
 Warm human hearts beat happy with your chime, 
 " The brave hath won the fair." Again is told 
 Grlad tale that thrills the soul in ev'ry clime. 
 
 18 
 
 Oh, sylvan Salehurst ! where the strong oak thrives 
 Wave budding branches in the New Year's sun ! 
 Shine, Sun ! upon the path of two young lives, 
 Fate seem'd to sunder, but Heaven's will makes one. 
 
 19 
 
 Escap'd awhile the storm and stress of strife. 
 Like vessels anchor' d in a haven fair. 
 See, Sun and shadow, as in common life, 
 Arise and rest upon this happy pair. 
 
 20 
 
 Nor Nature's deepest yearning here denied. 
 
 The circling months their crowning blessing bring. 
 
 As lily fair, the blushing rose beside 
 
 A gentle girl doth to her mother cling. 
 
 21 
 
 But rolling years must fateful changes mourn. 
 No mortal hand from I'uthless death can save, 
 From fair, fond wife, o'er Ocean's bosom borne 
 The sailor husband finds a watery grave. 
 
 22 
 
 What need to sing of widows' lone estate ? 
 Sorrow is common song : —and life as hers 
 'Mid rustic friends, denied a happier fate, 
 The Musi's fancy rrr her passion stirs. 
 
— 23 
 
 23 
 
 Conceal'd from us how death's dark shadow came 
 Or where, bewept, her ashes peaceful rest, 
 Who would not rather bear her fragrant name 
 Than of high sounding title stand possest ? 
 
 24 
 
 For while the world's proud thrones have shatter' d 
 And learning's idols in the dust been laid, [been 
 Fond hearts have kept the mem'ries fresh and green, 
 Of Fairlight's hero and liis faithful maid. 
 
 25 
 
 And Summer's suns for long years yet shall shine, 
 And Spring's pale primrose blossom at our feet 
 Ere tender arms in strong arms cease to twine, 
 As lovers linger at the Lovers' Seat, 
 
THE SWEEP'S COURTING. 
 
 A BALLAD IN BLACK AND WHITE. 
 
 Oh, fresh is the early morning, 
 
 When gentlefolks most are asleep, 
 Instead of scouting and scorning 
 
 As they afterwards do, a poor sweep. 
 It's then that I'm trudging along 
 
 With my old machine and its straps 
 A whistling the last new song 
 
 As loud as the smartest chaps. 
 
 There's a big house, ugly and tall 
 
 On the i-ight hand side of yon square 
 It's a house where I likes to call 
 
 For a girl that I loves liv'd there. 
 The first time I went I remember. 
 
 Though the likes I'd not seen before. 
 All gone was the gloom of December 
 
 When sudden she open'd the door. 
 
25 - 
 
 " Please, Miss," I said, though I stutter'd, 
 
 " I've come to do all of the flues." 
 And a voice from inside mutter'd 
 
 " The sweep : — make him wipe both his shoes " 
 Lor ! the smile that ran over her features 
 
 As she said " Sweep, please wait a minute ! " 
 They say Heaven's full of sweet creatures 
 
 But the angels they just wasn't in it. 
 
 How careful I was with my brushes 
 
 And the cloths in front of the grates ! 
 The soot you see hid all my blushes. 
 
 And a chap gets cool if he waits. 
 She took me to room after room. 
 
 And I did 'em all careful and clean, 
 And she says when I laid down my broom : 
 
 " You're the tidiest sweep that I've seen." 
 
 I was proud. But, my ! what a raker 
 
 When opened the door of the street. 
 For there stood Bill Hawkins, the baker, 
 
 White blouse and white cap, all so neat. 
 She smiled with the same lovely face 
 
 As he handed the cottage-loaves in. 
 Says, Ito myself " It's a race," 
 
 " Is it black or white that will win ? " 
 
26 
 
 Now 1 know'd quite well that on Mondays 
 
 My sweet had her evening out ; 
 And I says to myself that some-ways 
 
 A sweep shall be seen here about. 
 Oh, the togs I bought for that meeting ! 
 
 And flowers to put into her hand ! 
 No lord when his lady he's greeting 
 
 Could do it more finely and grand 
 
 So the veiy next Monday that was, 
 
 I got the right side of the square : 
 But, behold ! for the very same cause 
 
 Bill Hawkins, the baker, was there ! 
 He smirked and he smiled like a Infant 
 
 When out of the door issued she, 
 But his face fell there on the instant 
 
 When my beautiful posy he see. 
 
 She laughed when I handed the bouquet. 
 
 Her cheeks like the roses was dyed. 
 She stopped for a moment ; — then, took a 
 
 Smart step, and stood right by my side. 
 Her fingers she laid on my arm. 
 
 What a thrill my heart there went through. 
 But graceful I thought was the charm 
 
 With which she bade Billy adieu ! 
 
— 27 — 
 
 Don't ask where it was that we walked, 
 
 I trod on the skies, not the street ; 
 As long as she smiled, and she talked, 
 
 I didn't care who we might meet. 
 And sometimes a-night in mj dreams 
 
 I'm walking the same blessed way. 
 And a-morning's pitch-dark, why it seems 
 
 Them streets are as bright as the day. 
 
 10 
 
 Soon my darling was married to me ; — 
 
 For this I had sav'd up the copper, 
 As a young chap should, don't you see. 
 
 Or love will come down with a cropper. 
 Another straight tip from me, take, 
 
 (Tho' I don't bear Bill Hawkins no spite) 
 If on love-races money you stake, 
 
 You bet on the black, not the wMie. 
 
Photographed by 
 
 T. A. I'orhcs. Perth. 
 
 "THE SWIFT SCOTTISH MAIL." 
 
 SONG 
 
 "in the present it is that I GLORY. 
 
 The past has its record, the future its hopes, 
 But the present is here now before me ; 
 
 The old has gone by, and Hope soars on high, 
 In the present it is tliat I glory. 
 
 2 
 
 They were patient and bold, were those Saxons of old, 
 And were prou.d of their packhorses' team ; 
 
 But give me the rail,- and tlie swift Scottish Mail, 
 With its horses of thunder and steam. 
 
 Chokus — 
 Then, to grumbling adieu. Let's be trustful and true, 
 
 And all of you join in the chorus ; 
 The past has gone by, Hope's star is on high. 
 
 We'll rejoice in the present before us. 
 
— 29 — 
 3 
 
 They chose them strong oak and with masterful stroke 
 Builded ships that were lords of the seas ; 
 
 But what would they say, if they saw but to-day 
 Our steam steel-clads defying the breeze. 
 
 4 
 With stone and with brick, they built walls very thick. 
 
 And dark houses in narrow streets set ; 
 But tell me, Oh where, with gardens so fair. 
 
 Were villas like mine to be met ? 
 
 Chokus — 
 T'hen, to grumbling adieu, &c. 
 
 5 
 They had market and fair, and their feasts all declai-e 
 
 Were bounteous in beef and in beer ; 
 But the poor man of old, oft sat hungry and cold — 
 
 For the loaf it was little and dear. 
 
 6 
 
 There were lords, there were squires, owning manors 
 and shires. 
 With vassals and villeins depending ; 
 But the son of the soil, with the hard hand of toil, 
 ' Got the wealth for the rich folks' spending. 
 
 Chorus — 
 Then, to grumbling adieu, &c. 
 
 7 
 They were fond of their church, nor troubled to search 
 
 Beyond what the parson dictated ; 
 But now we agree, that thought shall be free. 
 
 And all things be fairly debated. 
 
— 30 
 
 'Twas " God save the King ! " and. the welkin would ring, 
 And the bells peal'd out from the steeple ; 
 
 But though we're still loyal, the right is the royal. 
 And our prayer now is, " God save the people ! " 
 
 Chorus— 
 Then, to grumbling adieu, &c. 
 
 Verses 9 and 10 not to be sung. 
 
 9 
 
 [For sport they were famous ; in muscle might shame us, 
 
 As for nerves, they ne'er seemed to need 'em ; 
 But where was the Press ? Where the books that we bless ? 
 And School Boards to teach all to read 'em. 
 
 10 
 
 Their world it was small, they ne'er travell'd it all, 
 
 But at home were content to abide ; 
 And, oh ! what they lost, who ocean ne'er crossed. 
 
 Nor reached e'en the pleasant seaside.] 
 
 11 
 In ale house and bar, till midnight as far. 
 
 In cup and in song they delighted ; 
 But who 'mid them all, dreamed of fair Public Hall, 
 
 So large and so splendidly lighted. 
 
 12 
 E'en gentry high born, may not hold us in scorn. 
 
 When our pleasures we're thus gaily taking ; 
 In their lives the year round, doth pleasure abound, 
 
 But ours takes some toil in the making. 
 
 Chorus — 
 Then, to grumbling adieu, &c. 
 
COMMON THINGS, 
 
 A CAROL FOR CHRISTMAS AND ALL 
 THE YEAR. 
 
 When wake my eyes to morning light, 
 Then wakes my heart and sings, 
 
 Forgets the darkness of the night. 
 And welcomes, Common things. 
 
 2 
 
 Common, of dawn, the golden glow, 
 
 The sun's all kindling ray. 
 Common, Heaven's living wind doth blow, 
 
 Winter or summer's day. 
 
 3 
 Common, the waters, all men count. 
 
 Limpid, their howls that fill. 
 From Heaven descending to the fount, 
 
 Divine, but common still. 
 
 Common, the smile that greets us, where 
 Round table, plainl}- spread, 
 
 The morning meal content we share, 
 For sweet is common br^ad. 
 
32 — 
 
 Common, the road we pace, to find 
 
 Our happy work to do, 
 And common faces, gently kind, 
 
 Beam just as happy too. 
 
 6 
 
 The common laugh doth pass around, 
 The common frown or cheer. 
 
 And, ah ! from feelings moi'e profound 
 Wakes woe, the common tear. 
 
 7 
 And oh, how dear the common talk, 
 
 On trite and trivial things ; 
 Latent, in every soul alike. 
 
 The common feeling springs. 
 
 8 
 
 Or quit we work, and seek the fields, 
 'Tis common flowers that greet. 
 
 And every wood its music yields 
 From common warblers sweet. 
 
 Common, is joy that lights the eyes, 
 Common, the love, that fills 
 
 All human hearts ; as from the skies, 
 The rain feeds all the rills, 
 
 10 
 Common is faith in God, in man 
 
 Broader than human creeds 
 Refuge of souk since time began 
 
 In Nature's deepest needs. 
 
— sa- 
 
 il 
 
 And, high above all kings control, 
 
 Set by Omnipotence, 
 A common conscience rules man's soul, 
 
 His conduct, common sense. 
 
 12 
 
 The seasons roll, their times attun'd. 
 And Christmas leads the van, 
 
 To tell, vpho common flesh assum'd, 
 For love of common man. 
 
 13 
 
 For noble street, and narrow lane, 
 Do common aims pursue, 
 
 The high, the low, shun common bane. 
 Seek common blessings too. 
 
 14 
 
 Childhood's pure joy, high hope of youth, 
 And manhood's toil and care. 
 
 The shame in wrong, the strength in trutli. 
 Are common everywhere. 
 
 15 
 
 Here, Angels help, the threshold o'er 
 
 The babe to life just new. 
 There, soothe the sorrowing, who deplore. 
 
 That death is common too. 
 
— 34 
 16 
 
 Common, Great God ! art Thou to men, 
 All sprang at first from Thee, 
 
 In Thee, their common home, again. 
 Rest all, eternally. 
 
 17 
 
 Oh ! whilst beneath Thy boundless skies. 
 
 On common earth I roam. 
 Fill me with love that never dies, 
 
 Then take me to that home. 
 
Dog and Master. 
 
 When with kind words we speak to faithful brute, 
 
 What stirs his lower life within ? 
 Speechless his tongue, but lustrous eye not mute, 
 
 And trembling nerve bespeaks him kin. 
 
 Alas ! more dumb, and doubly dull were we. 
 Should some bright seraph's heavenly voice 
 
 Thrill us. Too subtle, his high speech would be, 
 Throbbing, our souls would mute rejoice. 
 
 Thus do long leagues God's sentient creatures sever, 
 
 But His fine aether set between, 
 In Heaven's pure light, doth surely constant quiver. 
 With pulse of quicken'd souls, that restless ever ; 
 
 But guess, what loftier souls may mean. 
 
Things Not Seen Before. 
 
 Before the eye in vain is beauty spread, 
 
 Wanting Heaven's higher gift, the inner sight. 
 
 The soul to read, as prophet e'er hath read, 
 
 The secrets God hath w^rit in lines of light. 
 
 2 
 Stands not some scene, long since familiar grown, 
 
 Un-noted, dull, through all the rolling years, 
 Till in some brighter morn of May 'tis shown 
 
 In magic light, and fairy land appears ? 
 
 3 
 Stood yesterday the selfsame leaf- clad trees, 
 
 Our neighbours' humble homes, the grassy field ; 
 To the same eyes through which our rapt soul sees. 
 
 But now, the beauty deep they yearned to yield ? 
 
 4 
 
 Night doth reveal the stars ! In sorrow's hour 
 
 Wakens a wealth of sympathy around. 
 As if, upsprung, some new created power, 
 
 Waves, heav'd from depth of soul, ah ! how profound. 
 
37 — 
 
 Lov'd faces, moving round us day by day, 
 
 With beaming eyes grow common in our view ; 
 
 But sudden, lighted by some heavenly ray, 
 
 Looks soul on startled soul, those windows through. 
 
 In the roads ruts, of welcome showers the lees, 
 Unsightly, brown, the stagnant water lies ; 
 
 Yet quicken' d eye, the surface scans and sees 
 Reflected azure of the purest skies. 
 
 So refuse human lives, all stained with sin, 
 
 Beneath the living light of heavenly love ; 
 
 Do oft surprise with beauties that begin 
 To stir and sparkle in the blue above. 
 
 Around to heedless eyes. Nature unrolls 
 
 Her living pages, dark thro' many days, 
 
 Sudden, though silent, see ! her mystic scrolls, 
 As bush, or cloudy pillar are ablaze. 
 
 And this, the purpose of life's hours supreme, 
 Not for their beauty's joy alone they shine ; 
 
 But that our wakened souls may learn the dream 
 That common things have aspects all divine. 
 
With Infirm Friends. 
 
 Oh, brethren of the crutch and stick, 
 I am not numbered with you yet ; 
 
 With younger men I walk as quick, 
 And that I'm growing old, forget. 
 
 Yet, as you move, I move behind. 
 
 The years are few our steps that part ; 
 
 To friends with faltering feet 'twere kind, 
 To show their frailties touch my heart. 
 
 'Twere hard to say what leagues of space. 
 
 Your sprightlier steps on earth have trod ; 
 
 And harder still your path to trace, 
 Of patient toil and trust in God. 
 
 'Tis vain to hope in life's decline, 
 
 The buoyant step of youth to keep ; 
 
 But youthful hope and heart be mine, 
 Till with my father's I shall sleep. 
 
 For though the God's may never give 
 To us who ti-ead this mortal round, 
 
 Immortal vigour. Yet may live 
 
 Courage, and hope, and faith profound. 
 
Oh ! FOR THE Rocks that are 
 OUT IN THE Sea ! 
 
 Oh, for the Rocks, that ai-e out in the sea, 
 
 Far away from this quiet shore ; 
 Where wings of winds are unf ett'rd and free. 
 
 And the waves incessantly roar. 
 
 Do you ask wh}- I love the free, free wind, 
 
 And the waves that mountain's high roll ? 
 
 They image the thought that nothing can bind, 
 The swell and the sweep of the soul. 
 
 Though she's held to the earth, and tied to time, 
 
 Such limits the spirit defies : 
 And revels in hopes she feels are sublime. 
 
 Unbounded by sea and by skies. 
 
 Oh ! plaintively cometh the seamew's cry, 
 As she spreadeth her wings to roam ; 
 
 But breath of the blast uplifts her on high, 
 And she soars o'er the mist and foam. 
 
 So swift, and unseen, o'er surges of life, 
 
 Where darkness and mystery lie ; 
 A power that controls the storm and the strife, 
 
 Upbears and uplifts us on high. 
 
 Then fearless my soul give wings to thy thought, 
 
 And dare in thy flight to be free ; 
 Till thou gain'st a glimpse of land thou hast sought, 
 
 Beyond all the rocks in the sea. 
 
— stjfai'srKSB^jSt'^M^'^ "^ ^- 
 
 Where are the Friends of 
 MY Youth?" 
 
 Where are the barques I sail'd beside 
 When first the stream of life I tried ? 
 Soft were the winds, the heavens were fair, 
 And guileless laughter shook the air 
 As forth upon those waters clear, 
 Our tiny boats we sought to steer. 
 Long time some sails remain'd in view. 
 Their rudder right, their compass true ; 
 Wiser the voice that gave command 
 Than their young ears could understand, 
 And many a bank, and man)?- a shoal, 
 Were safely passed 'neath sucli control. 
 But, ah ! "Where now on broadened stream 
 Those specks of white, that used to gleam ? 
 Not to that wide and shoreless sea. 
 The stream hath borne or them or me ; 
 Though not on my horizon now 
 I mark each fair and gallant prow ! 
 
 A few in colours bright may glide. 
 Nor fear the ebb and flow of tide, 
 For whom Heaven kindly doth prepare 
 The sunshine warm, and summer air, 
 With stead}' helm, and well-set sail 
 Fear not the darkness, nor the gale ! 
 
 Vainly the track of others sought 
 By chance of eddying current caught, 
 
— 41 — 
 
 Now drifting to the stormy main, 
 No more will they return again ! 
 A.nd some frail barques in piteous plight, 
 Have sudden sunk in wintry night ; 
 Too soon they press'd rough waters o'er 
 Compass, nor ballast, with them bore. 
 Nor Heaven itself might seek to save 
 Who reckless sought a watery grave, 
 For such who would not shed the tear 
 For rashness that have paid so dear ? 
 
 Some a fair anchorage have found 
 Near shores where peaceful fruits abound ; 
 Soft summer breezes round them play 
 Or help to sail, or still to stay, 
 And fellow boats that near them move 
 Echo their laughter and their love. 
 But not for them, can always be 
 Bright Heavens and sure tranquility. 
 For Nature holds in softest air. 
 Secret of lightnings lurid glare ; 
 And all their strength and skill to try 
 The storm will sweep yon placid sky. 
 Oh, Hand ! my bai-que wlien tempest tost 
 Hast sudden saved, when all seem'd lost. 
 Eye that hatli kept my sail in view, 
 Watch o'er, and keep tliem safely too ! 
 
 But what this object that I see. 
 
 From stress, of strife, and storm scarce free y 
 
 Tatterd thy sail, thy masts awry, 
 
 Batter'd thy prow that once rose higli ! 
 
 I knew thee as a gallant boat 
 
 O'er waters wild, pi'epared to float. 
 
— 42 — 
 
 WhErf current hid, what sudden gale, 
 Did o'er thy confidence prevail ; 
 What cruel waters in dark hour, 
 Unpitying smote, and mocked thy power ? 
 Vainly I ask, or reason why 
 Should fall on thee, this destiny ! 
 Rather, oh, wind-torn ragged sail, 
 At last thy homeward course I hail. 
 Heaven's mercy loveth to restore 
 The long-lost barque to safety's shore. 
 And I, my final haven far, 
 Rememb'ring that we brothers ai-e. 
 Will welcome thee with trembling hand 
 To smoother seas, and happier land. 
 
 Oft, now, as some new boat I see, 
 No stranger is that boat to me ; 
 To me its graceful motions tell 
 The breeze, a kindred sail doth swell. 
 Yet all unheeding — with a sigh, 
 I mark the vessel — sailing by ! 
 'Tis then I breathe the wish anew 
 To speak the barques, I long to view. 
 Oh, gallant boats ! on this broad stream. 
 What joy to catch your beckoning beam. 
 To hear across these waters wide. 
 Speak, voice of love, as once it cried ; 
 To know those tones of faith in youth 
 Sprang from the fount of lasting truth ! 
 
 Ah, me ! and shall no distant sliore 
 Converse so sweet, to me restore ? 
 Do love, and truth, and beauty bright 
 For ever vanish from our sight ? 
 
— 43 
 
 Why, even so, should I complain. 
 
 The vision seen doth still remain. 
 
 And mem'iy holds in outline clear 
 
 Faces and forms no longer near. 
 
 Pass'd from my narrow field of sight, 
 
 They breathe Heaven's air, they see Heaven's light, 
 
 Mortals that once beside roe trod 
 
 Now walk the wider realms of God ! 
 
 And thou, my barque, how wilt behave 
 When forced to face some fearful wave 
 When, meeting more than Autumn breeze, 
 Life's river roars, like raging seas ? 
 No star on high, to light the gloom. 
 Each yawning depth, a gaping tomb. 
 Wilt thou all taut, and firm be found. 
 Thy sails well furl'd, tliy planks all sound ? 
 Before no tempest will thou quail, 
 And hold the helm, despite the gale ? 
 
 Or how, when life's wide stream shall be 
 Merged in unfathomable sea ? . 
 When power of hand and will shall fail 
 To hold the helm, or hoist the sail ? 
 And far from earth's once solid shore. 
 Thou dream'st a dream to wake no more ? 
 
 Do well thy work. To Higher Power 
 
 Resign thyself, in darkest hour ; 
 
 Or when thy voyage past and done, 
 
 Thou bidd'st farewell to earth and sun, 
 
 Rest peaceful in His high decree 
 
 Who rules the realms, thou can'st not see i 
 
A Mid November Morning 
 ON THE Beach. 
 
 s 
 
 1 
 
 Each mom its message hath. Unconscious bean 
 Each day its destined declaration ; 
 
 Even dull morn that common aspect wears, 
 As day of brightest expectation. 
 
 On this morn's front Life's Angel, JOY hath spelt. 
 Setting love's circle with an added gem. 
 
 Throbs 'neath our roof same pulse that Mary felt 
 Of motherhood at Bethlehem. 
 
 On faces awed and pale, next dawn appears. 
 Watchers for loved one's latest breath ; 
 
 Whose hopes and fears 'mid silent tears. 
 
 End with wing'd flight of shaft of death. 
 
 At this day's close reads our poor wounded heart 
 
 Old lesson of humility ; 
 Enforced by pangs of pain and cruel smart 
 
 From stroke of direst destiny. 
 
45 — 
 
 To tlie same heart, next morn is made all bright 
 By tend,er love, and spoken cheer ; 
 
 Teaching the faith that though we walk in night, 
 The dawn unseen, is ever near. 
 
 Then, thro' some weary day of tiresome toil, 
 The dust and din of life above. 
 
 Come to us frequent, 'mid its care and moil, 
 Proofs of all conq'ring power of love. 
 
 And Nature speaks with ev'ry beaming morn. 
 Nor voiceless ev'ry blazing noon ; 
 
 Nor e'en in sun's decline ; nor when forlorn 
 Shines in mild majesty the moon. 
 
 But what hast thou, on Hastings' rocky shore. 
 Oh ! mid November morn to tell ? 
 
 What bears thy beam not often read before ? 
 With south-west wind and ocean's swell ? 
 
 Where is the murky air the city wails ! 
 
 Where all the gloom November holds ! 
 Chill fog, that thro' my natal month prevails. 
 
 And dale, and hill, and spire enfolds ? 
 
46 
 
 10 
 
 Erewliile tlie King of day majestic rose, 
 'Mid misty clouds, that souglit to hide 
 
 His radiance. But as Giant careless throws, 
 He threw the flimsy garb aside. 
 
 n 
 
 Now the grey clouds, with brightest blue between, 
 Dappl'd, or billowy, or wide spread, 
 
 Sliow finest edge of softest silvery sheen, 
 Though from a golden fountain fed. 
 
 12 
 
 Pours now through cloud-rifts the full orb of day, 
 Broad, slanting streaks upon the seas, 
 
 Or laughing lightens all the finer spray. 
 Smitten and scatter'd by the bi-eeze. 
 
 13 
 
 Dipping his long wings in the sunlit waves, 
 The seabird wheels liis fearless flight ; 
 
 Snatching the morsel that his hunger craves, 
 Then glides aloft through floods of light. 
 
 14 
 
 And as he flies, rings out discordant screech 
 As mocking mute, inglorious things ; 
 
 Boatmen with idle boats upon the beach, 
 Aw^d by the seas wild wantonings. 
 
47 
 
 15 
 
 On woods I know in every inland dell, 
 Gold Autumn glories luring stand ; 
 
 But motion charms me with its mystic spell 
 To linger on this wave-beat strand. 
 
 16 
 
 There the slow juice moves in the red'ning bud, 
 Waiting tlie wooing of the Spring ; 
 
 Here fiercer force upheaves this mighty flood, 
 The life that moves each moving thing. 
 
 17 
 
 For thou, oh, south-west wind that evermore 
 Bearest so fierce on Ocean's breast ; 
 
 Driving big billows on the pebbly shore, 
 As sea snakes each with foaming crest. 
 
 18 
 
 Harmonious art thou, as clear counterpart 
 The soft winds sweeping o'er the sod, 
 
 Or sea's deep base that thrills my heart 
 As echo of the voice of God. 
 
 19 
 
 How can I watch the forceful waves that beat 
 With insolence on solid rocks ; 
 
 Feel the firm earth beneath assured feet. 
 Nor share defiance of the shocks. 
 
48 
 
 20 
 
 How but rejoice as thou, wild wind, dost blow, 
 Driving the waves in whitened foam ; 
 
 As if some kindred power my soul must know, 
 That with wide wings o'er seas could roam. 
 
 21 
 
 Oh, morn of life ! borne on exultant motion ! 
 
 Heav'ns energy moves o'er the deep ; 
 Life-pulse unfailing comes in swell of ocean, 
 
 And winds their leashes that outleap. 
 
 And thou, fair earth, sister of many a star. 
 
 Thy hoary age in asons told ; 
 Infant in fonn, and life, to worlds afar. 
 
 Though whirl'd round su.n e'er ocean roU'd. 
 
 23 
 
 Thou hidest still the secret of that force, 
 That winged thee on thy circling way ; 
 
 Unflagging holds thee in thy yearly course, 
 And spinning, gives thee night and day. 
 
 24 
 
 Oh ! hidden power, that hast past ages fed. 
 Whose realm nor rest, nor night within, 
 Undying is. Speed on as thou hast sped 
 And me uphold, yea, when this earth is dead, 
 Nor let me die, who am thy Kin ! 
 
Drink to the Dead ! 
 
 The Wassail Bowl was a large drinking vessel from 
 which the Saxons drank health to each other at their 
 public entertainments. Was-H^el, meaning " may you be 
 well," or "good health to you," was the form of salutation. — 
 See Imperial Bictionary. 
 
 The custom of drinking healths is really of obscure 
 origin. Yet it is closely connected with an ancient rite, 
 practically absurd indeed, but done with a conscious, and 
 serious intention, which lands it quite outside the region 
 of nonsense. This is the custom of pouring libations and 
 drinking at ceremonial banquets to Gods and the dead. 
 Thus the old Northmen drank the "Minnie" of Thoe, 
 Odin, and Frya, and of Kings likewise at their funerals. 
 Such formulae as " God's Minnie," " a bowl to God in 
 Heaven," are on record; while in like manner, Christ, 
 Mary, and the Saints were drunk in the place of Gods 
 and heroes, and the habit of drinking to the dead and living 
 at the same feast, goes far to prove here, a common origin 
 for both ceremonies. The "Minnie" is at once love, memory, 
 and the thought of the absent, and it survived in England 
 in the " Minnying," or " Mynde " days, in which the memory 
 of the dead was celebrated by services or banquets. — Tylor's 
 Frimitive Culture, Vol. it., p. 96. 
 
 At modern English banquets, the memory of a deceased 
 hero or genius, is celebrated by a toast to his name, drunk 
 in solemn silence. 
 
 Drink to the Dead ! Their work is done ! 
 
 Radiant their glorious records stand. 
 For souls who victory have won, 
 
 Pour free libations on the land. 
 
— 60 — 
 
 Drink to the Dead ! No pliantom form 
 Is theirs that walks the spirit shore. 
 
 Maybe our love thrills them above, 
 
 Marv'lling, we mourn tlieir loss so sore. 
 
 Drink to the Dead ! That are not dead, 
 Nor lost to faith's keen loving eye. 
 
 Faded the form, the wrapping fled 
 Spirit hath sought its native sky. 
 
 Drink to the Dead ! Our mortal eyes 
 
 Catch faint, false glimpse of earth and star, 
 
 Their larger eyes survey all skies. 
 
 Tell tilings that seem, from things that ai-e. 
 
 Drink to the Dead ! Decay and gloom 
 Shade all that lives in light of sun ; 
 
 Around their feet the amaranths bloom, 
 Their sun celestial, cloud hath none. 
 
 Drink to the Dead ! Raise not a sound. 
 No eartlily song may sing their fame, 
 
 Whose feet have burst Time's narrow bound. 
 And scaled Heav'n's height, 'mid Heaven's 
 
 [acclaim. 
 
 We drink to you ! Who from dark sleep 
 
 Arisen are, ye glorious Dead! 
 As once ye kept, we vigils keep. 
 Straining our eyes across the deep. 
 
 By the same hope, "immortal fed ! 
 
Birds and Poets. 
 
 In favour'd groves, sounds nightingale's deep note, 
 On heath'ry downs, the lark's song falls. 
 
 Bird, that so light of wing, so clear of throat, 
 Nigh Heaven, to earthly love still calls. 
 
 But many a wood the merry blackbird thrills, 
 Singing from oak, or hawthorn bush. 
 
 In common hedge the linnet lightly trills, 
 Answering contralto of the thrush. 
 
 'Neath cottage eaves, the twitt'ring swallows sing, 
 Or sparrow chirps unvarying note ; 
 
 Save when the magic warmth of love in Spring, 
 Draws double ditty, from his throat. 
 
 So Grod's great singers, rising each in place, 
 Dower'd with high skill, to suit their time. 
 
 Smite heav'nly lyres with more than mortal grace. 
 Stirring men's souls, with hope sublime. 
 
 Yet softer songs Life's humble pathways cheer 
 From singers^ learn' d in lowly ways ; 
 
 To struggling souls amid their toil, as dear 
 As rapture of those loftier lays. 
 
 So I, unbidden, save by high behest 
 
 Of that same Sovran Heavenly Power, 
 
 That bids the wood bird tell his soul's unrest, 
 Would sing my joy in life's brief hour. 
 
By the same Author — 
 
 By camera and in CANTO; 
 
 OE, 
 
 Pictures and Poems Commemorative of 
 the Locality." 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 Hastings Pier. — Beach, with Excursionists. — Hastings 
 Castle. — Ecclesbourne. — The Esplanade. — The Brassey Institute. 
 — Eock-a-Nore. — Warrior Square. —The Eisheiman.— By the 
 Shore. — St. Leonards Public Gardens. — HoUington Church. 
 
 With 14 Photographic and other Illustrations . . 4s. 
 
 With 6 Photographic and other Illustrations . . 2s. 
 
 The following may be had separately, one Illustration 
 with each. 
 
 Edith finding the Body of Harold 
 
 3d. 
 
 Hastings Castle 
 
 3d. 
 
 Warrior Square 
 
 3d. 
 
 HoUington Church 
 
 3d. 
 
 St. Leonards Public Gardens . . 
 
 3d. 
 
 Common Things— (on card) 
 
 2d. 
 
 May be had at the Coral Gallery, White Eock Baths, 
 Hastings.