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 Cornell University Library 
 PR 4453.C65P4 
 
 Persephone, and other poems. 
 
 3 1924 013 463 967 
 

 S ^ Cornell University 
 VM 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/cu31924013463967 
 
PERSEPHONE AND OTHER POEMS. 
 
PERSEPHONE 
 
 AND 
 
 OTHER POEMS. 
 
 K. Mc COSH CLARK. 
 
 AUTHOR OF "a SOUTHERN CROSS FAIRY TALE," ETC. 
 
 The ages sing the world is old, 
 The heart sings it is ever young 
 As long as matin songs are sung 
 Or swelling buds unfold. 
 
 LONDON : 
 SAMPSON LOW, MARSTON AND COMPANY, 
 
 LIMITED, 
 
 S't. Huttstan's J^ouse, 
 
 Fetter Lane, Fleet Street. 
 
 1894. 
 
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 CHISWICK PRESS :— CHAHLES WHITTINGHAM AND CO. 
 TOOKS COURT, CHANCERY LANE, LONDON. 
 

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BetHtaUt 
 
 BY PERMISSION 
 
 TO 
 
 HER ROYAL HIGHNESS 
 
 THE DUCHESS OF YORK. 
 
 May love and happiness encompass thee 
 And England's Royal Prince, whose life with joy 
 Thy fair young life hath crowned ! 
 May sweetest flowers open on thy path, 
 That lies within the sunlight of the throne 
 Where sits our Empress-Queen, 
 Beloved, revered. 
 
 May Her vast people's love e'er shelter thee. 
 From all that breathes of harm. 
 Thou Royal May-flower ! 
 True hearts in far colonial lands beat true 
 For thee. True voices ever pray for thee. 
 All English people look to thee 
 In faith and hope. 
 
 Maj/ 26, 1894. 
 
tN publishing this little volume, I desire to 
 preface it by a few words in remembrance 
 of the years spent in that "brighter 
 Britain " across the seas, where most of these poems 
 were written. 
 
 Pleasure will, I hope, be found in them, even 
 such as are ancient tales retold. They were in- 
 spired by the "innumerable laughter" of waters 
 bright as the ^gean, in a land of azure skies, 
 babbling brooks, and gleaming cliffs — beauties of 
 nature, rivalling those of which the Greeks them- 
 selves were not silent. 
 
 The many kindnesses and hours of happy in- 
 tercourse enjoyed in New Zealand will ever be 
 enshrined in my memory. " The best gifts of life 
 are its friendships." 
 
 K. M'= C. Clark. 
 
 London, 1894. 
 
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CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 The Proem i 
 
 Persephone 3 
 
 Good-night, Sweet Heart 14 
 
 Socrates 16 
 
 , GwEN 23 
 
 Hero and Leander 27, 
 
 Love's Song 38 
 
 Memories 40 
 
 Lords and Ladies 47 
 
 Edelweiss 49 
 
 Sic itur ad Astra 52 
 
 Echo and Narcissus 58' 
 
 The Children's Hour 70 
 
 Lullaby -77 
 
 Paolo and Francbsca di Rimini 78 
 
 The Old Garden 83 
 
 Veronica 88 
 
 The Bells 9° 
 
 Penelope 91 . 
 
X CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Young Love 99 
 
 The Death of Hyacinth loo 
 
 Life io6 
 
 Dear 120 
 
 By the Salt Sea Waves 122 
 
 A Farm Idyl 13S 
 
 England's June 137 
 
 Ugolino 140 
 
 -NiOBE 149 
 
 The Three Guests 168 
 
 In Suffolk 170 
 
 Motes 172 
 
 Sonnets : 
 
 I. Through mazy branches gazing to the sky . . 185 
 
 II. What ! bliss in calm ! Ah no ! give me the crash 186 
 
 III. As by the wayside some coy blooms may hide . 187 
 
 IV. Yes, we have climbed the height, together stood . 188 
 V. Forgive me, dear ! the sudden clouds of night . 189 
 
 VI. A wayward cloudlet, born of virgin snow . .190 
 
 VII. Naught can resist the touch of drear decay . . igi 
 
 VIII. Sweet is the breath of morn, the grey clouds break 192 
 
THE PROEM. 
 
 EARIED with vext perplexing thought 
 Of men and things, I rested where 
 The twining branches o'er me wrought 
 Their tangled patterns, and the air 
 
 Breathed warmly on the beechen buds. 
 That, quickening 'neath the kiss of spring, 
 
 Blushed like the roseate bloom that studs 
 The briar-hedge where wild bees sing. 
 
 The drowsy music of the wind 
 
 With nameless longings filled my soul. 
 
 And misty meanings grew defined 
 Amid the sounds that round me stole. 
 
THE PROEM. 
 
 The world's unnumbered voices seemed 
 To raise to Love one perfect song ; 
 
 And these the varied scenes I dreamed 
 Of Joy and Sorrow, Right and Wrong. 
 
 Scenes from the cloudy stretch of years . 
 
 Gone by, scenes from the living Now, 
 Moving alternate smiles and tears. 
 
 Though naught I knew of why or how ! 
 
 For in those scenes I bore no part. 
 
 Yet sympathy's electric chain 
 Binds past and present to my heart 
 
 And thrills me with their joy and pain. 
 
 For of the self-same breath divine 
 
 All souls partake, the strong, the weak; 
 
 And round all lives Love's tendrils twine 
 And to all hearts like passions' speak. 
 
PERSEPHONE. 
 
 I HE wise say, 'Greatest love is born of pain,' 
 Alas ! I know that absence from my love 
 Is greatest pain." Such words I seemed to hear 
 Faint, as the echoes from another world, 
 While resting 'neath the beetling cliff, I watched 
 The cool grey sea. The glaring heat of day 
 Had softened at the evening's sweetest breath : 
 The glassy swell scarce curled the waves that stole 
 Shorewards, their rhythmic splash fell on my ear 
 Softly, nor broke the drowsy calm that held 
 My soul. Rapt in content unspeakable 
 I lay as one inbreathing peace, who knows 
 Nor whence, nor why, nor heeds the flight of time. 
 Perchance in such an hour the soul doth taste 
 
4 PERSEPHONE. 
 
 Of that pure ecstasy the Gods attain 
 
 On the Olympian heights, who knowing not 
 
 Desire, crave not for that to come, the which 
 
 Is bliss ; for while desire still lives, still must 
 
 We feel unrest. Again I heard those tones 
 
 Like cadence of some subtler melody, 
 
 " Absence from him I love is greatest pain,'' 
 
 But lost in reverie, I sought not whence 
 
 They rose. The lengthening shadows of the cliffs 
 
 Crept o'er the shore, and faint and fainter grew 
 
 The voices of the quickly ebbing tide, 
 
 Each tiny wave more backward drawn as though 
 
 'Twould follow to the West, where slowly sank 
 
 The beacon of the Gods. I watched the glow 
 
 Fade off the shining pools and dimpling sand, 
 
 The tired sea-birds wheel to sheltered nooks : 
 
 Then saw I, as in some entrancing dream, 
 
 A woman come from out a shadowy glen 
 
 That widened to the shore, and with light steps 
 
 Pass to the cream-lined sands. Sadly she gazed 
 
PERSEPHONE. 5 
 
 Across the sea, as though her spirit longed 
 
 For some far land. Luxuriant trusses fell 
 
 In clouds of golden splendour to her feet, 
 
 And standing close to me, in the pale light, 
 
 I saw the white gleam of the outstretched arms, 
 
 The rounded neck, the sinuous lines, the grace 
 
 Of perfect womanhood : and what more fair ? 
 
 But in her eyes there lay the veiled light 
 
 That shines when love is purified by pain. 
 
 Then knew I that I looked on her who breathed 
 
 Those tones upon the evening air, that moved 
 
 My inmost soul. Silent I stayed, I feared 
 
 My voice might break the spell that chained her there ; 
 
 And these the words she sighed. — " Alone ! yes still 
 
 Alone, apart from him, my task undone ! 
 
 Though far I've wandered o'er this earth, and where 
 
 My feet have trod, there doth it teem with life 
 
 New-born, and echoes ring), ' Persephone 
 
 Hath come ! ' and springtide gladdens all the world. 
 
 Yet what is Spring to me, whose soul doth pine 
 
i PERSEPHONE. 
 
 For that cold changeless gloom, the cavernous shades, 
 
 The palace halls where I have reigned a Queen, 
 
 Queen of the ghostly realm, and Pluto's love, 
 
 Which I have left to walk this world alone. 
 
 For when the icy chains that bind the earth 
 
 Melt 'neath the genial warmth of balmy hours. 
 
 Sad memories unbidden stir my heart. 
 
 And shadow e'en my joy of sceptred power ; 
 
 I think me of the flowery plains where once 
 
 A girl did sport beneath the glowing sun 
 
 Of Sicily, or with her maidens wreathed 
 
 The oleander's crimson buds ; nor knew 
 
 The voice of Love, until he came, who now 
 
 Is my dear lord. He deignfed not to woo 
 
 My maiden heart, but in the midst of flame 
 
 And storm and mighty earthquake, carried me 
 
 A trembling captive to his realms of shade ; 
 
 There wept I long and pined for the fair world, 
 
 For all the careless joys of maidenhood, 
 
 For I had loved to hear the babbling brooks 
 
PERSEPHONE. 7 
 
 And singing waterfall, and roaming cull 
 Blue hyacinths, and pale narcissus cups 
 Brimming with dew ; to chase the autumn leaves 
 That frolicked round my flying steps, or curled 
 Their gorgeous colours 'neath my feet, rich scrolls 
 Of mystic lore. And well I'd loved the crisp 
 Cold earth, e'en when the winter winds rushed thro' 
 The gloomy mountain pines, their plumfed heads 
 Low bending as in scorn. They say such hours 
 Of innocent delight are dearer far 
 Than the revealed joys that Eros brings ; 
 That with such joys there comes as much of pain, 
 I know 'tis so, yet therewith am content ; 
 For soon a love did seize me 'gainst my will. 
 For Pluto's self, that all absorbing love 
 Born of a reverence for master strength 
 That overwhelms the love of kith and kin ; 
 Aye ! such a love it was made me forget 
 The laughing sea and sky, and all the ties 
 Of earth, till on a day a whisper spread 
 
8 PERSEPHONE. 
 
 Which reached me on my throne, that earth was cursed 
 
 With barrenness through dread Demeter's ire 
 
 For loss of me, her child, and naught should lift 
 
 That curse but my return. Then pity waked 
 
 For that fair earth I loved so as a maid. 
 
 And bade me quit for her my sceptred state 
 
 And love. Thus sorrowful, I prayed to go. 
 
 That to the barren earth I might bring life. 
 
 And he my lord did pitying give consent. 
 
 Thus year by year, with sure recurring call. 
 
 This waiting world doth claim me, and I come 
 
 To sojourn here, men say, for a brief while, 
 
 But to my soul aeons of time with him. 
 
 My lord, were not as long. For when the soul 
 
 Hath drunk of passion's wine, it tasteth not 
 
 Again, with the old rapturous delight. 
 
 Of girlhood's still mild draughts : I view the scenes 
 
 Of bygone days, but not with the same joy. 
 
 And now again 'tis night, yet Pluto calls 
 
 Me not. The air is still ; ah, only 'mid 
 
PERSEPHONE. 
 
 The mighty quakings of the earth his voice 
 
 Is heard. I've trod the peaceful vales, the woods, 
 
 And quiet plains, and all. are blossoming; 
 
 I yet must scale the rugged cloud-veil'd heights, 
 
 The snowy fields and peaks, e'en they must glow 
 
 In beauty 'neath my feet ere I shall hear 
 
 The welcome call that bids me go to him." 
 
 And with these words she turned her face toward 
 
 The ice-capped range afar, and slowly passed 
 
 Beyond my sight 
 
 Then longing seized my soul 
 To follow on and know the end ; straightway. 
 As in a trance, I floated through the air. 
 'Twas morn, and from a shining height I saw 
 The stretching plains, the rugged glens, the slopes 
 Whereon the snow-grass spreads its slippery tufts j 
 And near and over me there stretched afar 
 The gleaming glacier-fields, their fissures blue 
 
10 PERSEPHONE. 
 
 As the blue depths of heaven above, where wheeled 
 
 The mountain vulture on its ruthless quest. 
 
 A stillness solemn, grand, brooded around, 
 
 Unbroken save by some swift sudden roll 
 
 Of thundering avalanche from sun-lit heights. 
 
 Which, dashing down the grassy slopes from point 
 
 To point, fell in thick clouds of powdered snow 
 
 Into the torrent's rapid swirl beneath. 
 
 I saw the distant fleck and gleam, where fought 
 
 The milky waters on their bouldered way. 
 
 Like glint of polished crests on battle-fields 
 
 Afar, whence sound o'erbridges not the space. 
 
 As one who gazes on some painted scene 
 
 And waits the entrance that shall give it life. 
 
 So musing gazed I on that fair expanse. 
 
 And soon I saw a woman's form, and knew 
 
 'Twas fair Persephone. O'er grassy rise. 
 
 Through thorn-clad glen, where rugged boulders reared 
 
 Their hoary heads, and down-swept trunks and rocks 
 
 Were piled, where ferns and dainty grasses drooped. 
 
PERSEPHONE. 1 1 
 
 I saw her come ; and as she came the grove 
 
 Broke forth in melody, the dry sward gleamed 
 
 With freshened sheen, the feathery birchen-woods 
 
 Burst forth in bud ; from sheltered rocky clefts 
 
 The mountain-lily leaves held out their cups 
 
 Of dew, — and stars of Edelweiss peeped forth. 
 
 I saw the love-light in her eyes that burned, 
 
 And heard her murmur in that low, sweet voice, - 
 
 " Not yet, my love, not yet ! " Then suddenly 
 
 She came where hid between two shouldering heights. 
 
 All stony-lipped, a tiny lakelet lay. 
 
 Unknown, unseen, save when the heights were reached ; 
 
 Reflected in the still clear water shone 
 
 The icy peaks ; she hngered on its edge. 
 
 And new-sprung mosses spread a carpet 'neath 
 
 Her feet. Surely her task was almost o'er ! 
 
 Enwrapped in fantasy she stayed ; the day 
 
 Passed by ; in silence sped the cool grey eve ; 
 
 Then came the night ; low restless voices moaned 
 
 Amid the jagged peaks and dark ravines, 
 
12 PERSEPHONE. 
 
 And steel-blue clouds banked up the northern sky, — 
 
 Denser and denser grew their mass, to sweep 
 
 In stately majesty across the heavens. 
 
 Then rushed the shrieking whirlwind from his cave, 
 
 And sprang from crag to crag, from glen to glen. 
 
 The dash of down-poured waters filled the air, 
 
 As though the reservoirs of heaven had burst ; 
 
 The glacier streams with swelling voices rushed 
 
 Together in a seething torrent's roll, 
 
 That leapt adown the mighty precipice. 
 
 And heralded by crash and roar, rushed through 
 
 The storm-tossed groves, and seething, boiling, swept 
 
 The giant trees like straws upon its flood. 
 
 Weird flashes played upon the mountain sides ; 
 
 The mighty forces of the nether world 
 
 Thundered in sullen ominous roll ; then burst 
 
 The shivering rocks ; the gaping chasms forth-belched 
 
 Thick sulphurous flames, and myriad fire-stones shot 
 
 Aloft, to fall in hissing showers : last came 
 
 A mighty rushing blast, and deafening roar. 
 
PERSEPHONE. 13 
 
 And 'gainst the leaping, flashing light, I saw 
 
 A woman's form, that for a moment swayed 
 
 On a black brink, her arms outstretched, her face 
 
 lUumin'd as by a sacred crowning joy : 
 
 Then followed blackness as of hell : but sweet 
 
 And clear as silver bells, Persephone's 
 
 Glad tones rang forth : — " He calls ! I come, my lord, 
 
 I come ! " 
 
 I waked to hear 
 The sullen mutterings of a rising storm. 
 To see the lightnings play, and dark clouds drift 
 Across the stars, and wandering homewards, mused 
 On Life, Self-sacrifice, and Love. 
 
GOOD-NIGHT, SWEET HEART. 
 
 |OOD-NIGHT, Sweet Heart! The dusky 
 shadows he 
 On tilth and lea, and Night with velvet tread 
 Comes o'er the distant hills, and aspens sigh 
 
 Above the stream whose dimpling smiles have fled. 
 The new-Ut taper from the cotter's home 
 
 With timid gleam salutes the parting day, 
 Full soon bright stars will sprinkle heaven's dome 
 And flicker o'er the pool where night-flies play. 
 
 Good-night, Sweet Heart ! The tired skylark sang 
 Its good-night lay to thee and me ; our souls 
 
 Yet vibrate to the melody that rang 
 Through leafy woods and o'er the swelling knolls : 
 
 Like some sweet Angelus it rose and fell 
 While lingering sun-rays gilded the grey leas. 
 
GOOD-NIGHT, SWEET HEART. 15 
 
 And thy true words like its bright cadence dwell 
 Within my heart, its unrest to appease. 
 
 Good-night, Sweet Heart ! Amid the russet corn 
 
 Where we two wandered, poppies droop in sleep. 
 Their dark eyes curtained till the summer dawn 
 
 Shall bid them, too, an early vigil keep. 
 The night winds softly come and go ; they bear 
 
 The music of the darkling waves. I see 
 No more the sunset glow upon thine hair 
 
 Nor the bright love-light in thine eyes for me. 
 
 Good-night, Sweet Heart ! Ah, yes ! with long delay 
 
 I'd linger o'er those words of parting pain. 
 Good-night, Sweet Heart ! My faltering lips would pray 
 
 For naught but good to thee, that ne'er again 
 Dark sorrow with her hovering wings should shade 
 
 An hour of thy fair life. And though the light 
 Of day hath gone from hill-side, mead, and glade. 
 
 New dawn will break ; and so, again. Good-night ! 
 
SOCRATES. 
 
 \ OW peacefully he sleeps ! His gentle breath 
 Would scarce disturb a floating thistle-down. 
 And now he smiles, as dreamers smile who greet 
 Some happy vision mirrored on the glass 
 Of phantasy. His hands, age-worn and thin. 
 Repose as quietly as infant's palms. 
 My heart is loth to rouse him, but the dawn 
 Now breaks, and never more will earthly dawn 
 Break on his tranquil eyes, and, as the day 
 Strides onward pitiless, it bears with it 
 His numbered hours. To wake is pain and joy ; 
 To sleep is an oblivion of both ; 
 Which, then, is better ? Who can say ? But see ! 
 He stirs, and now doth wake, and, as his eyes 
 
SOCRATES. IT 
 
 Light on us, greets us with his wonted smile : 
 " What do ye here, my friends ? The morn but now 
 Begins to chase the shadows of the night 
 From out my cell. Ah ! why so silent all ? 
 Why do ye look with sorrowing far-off gaze, 
 As though beyond ye saw some dreaded scene 
 In which ye know I soon must bear a part, 
 And fain would rescue me ? I know the tale 
 That lingers yet unspoken on your tongue. 
 Since love and sorrow stay its utterance. 
 But eyes betray what lips refuse to speak. 
 Crito, I know that thou would'st say the ship. 
 The Salaminian, lies since yester eve 
 Moored in Pirsus, and with its return 
 Hath brought the awaited Jiour for me to die. 
 But cease thy grief for me : I only feel 
 The foretaste of eternity, and long 
 For freedom from the circumscribing faults 
 Of earthly being. In this passing world 
 We but inhale a weakened, tainted breath 
 c 
 
i8 SOCRATES. 
 
 Of those eternal essences, and catch 
 
 Discoloured glimpses, vague outshadowings 
 
 Of things Divine. 'Tis true that beauty breathes 
 
 From many a fragrant flower and budding tree ; 
 
 That limpid streams are dimpled with the smiles 
 
 Of purity ; that loadstones draw the iron ; 
 
 The dove's soft cooing thrills and melts the heart 
 
 Of its enamoured mate ; woman to man. 
 
 Mother to child, is linked we know not how 
 
 By bonds invisible ; each breathing life 
 
 Is all instinct with strange affinity 
 
 That draws like unto like. And this is love. 
 
 Yet what are Beauty, Purity, and Love 
 
 Such as the Immortals know them ? The absolute. 
 
 The ideal perfections, the realities, 
 
 Whereof these are but poor blurred types, subsist 
 
 In the calm after-life where mind alone, 
 
 Serene, keen-visioned, looks upon the truth. 
 
 Here we but struggle 'neath some fierce desire, 
 
 Some strong dominion of the sensual needs, 
 
SOCRATES. 19 
 
 That dims our mental vision, and destroys 
 
 Our insight into things of purer mould. ', 
 
 Why then this dread of Death ? I crave for those 
 
 Untroubled regions where no gathering mists 
 
 Of stormy passions, no illusive scenes 
 
 Miraged before our eyes by earthly thirsts 
 
 Obscure the glorious ray of perfect truth. 
 
 Ah, wife, why weakly dost thou sob and weep 
 
 Such bitter tears ? Nay, rather joy with me 
 
 That ere this day be done my soul shall know 
 
 The inmost mysteries of perfectness. 
 
 For what is death that thou or I should grieve ? 
 
 Either it is a blank of nothingness. 
 
 An endless slumber undisturbed by dreams — 
 
 And what more blissful than unbroken sleep ? — 
 
 Or else it is a life where we shall meet 
 
 The souls of great men gone before, and hold 
 
 Rich converse with the sages of the past. 
 
 What joy to list to Homer's rolling verse, 
 
 Or those bewitching strains of Orpheus' lyre. 
 
20 SOCRATES. 
 
 To see Achilles once again repeat 
 
 His valorous deeds in mimicry of war. 
 
 The wise shall follow still in wisdom's paths 
 
 And shine among the stars whose beacon-light 
 
 Led on their steps to truth's serenest heights. 
 
 And when we reach the borders of that world 
 
 Wherein the finite in the infinite 
 
 Is lost, and space and time illimitable 
 
 Before us lie, we veil our eyes and bow 
 
 Our heads, awaiting death with thankfulness. 
 
 For as we emanate from the Divine 
 
 So long we to return to it, and merge 
 
 Our being in the essence that infused 
 
 Such noble thoughts and true, such higher zeal 
 
 And heaven-drawn aspirations as the soul 
 
 Feels even in its earthly tenement. 
 
 Who then would grudge the striving soul the wings 
 
 To bear her to such bliss ! 
 
SOCRATES. 21 
 
 " What sayest thou, friend Crito ; that the sun 
 
 Is still beneath the hill-tops ; that I yet 
 
 May wait a while before I drain the cup. 
 
 Nay, bid it not ; the vital part of me. 
 
 My soul's desire, hath passed already on 
 
 Unto the deathless land. What boots it then 
 
 To linger here with but the grosser parts ? 
 
 Kind gaoler, bring the hemlock. Nay, man, smile 
 
 As if 'twere wine. No cruel deed is this 
 
 Of which thou art the unwilling instrument. 
 
 Thou dost me kindness. Stint me not the dose. 
 
 Thou sayest 'tis but enough ; I may not spill 
 
 A drop of this nectareous drink, nor pour 
 
 The due libation to delivering Zeus. 
 
 I only pray the Omnipotents to grant 
 
 A prosperous journey to that other world. 
 
 And may I not have proved a wand-bearer 
 
 Only upon this earth, for I would fain 
 
 Have been a mystic of the living Truth. 
 
 Why make ye such a strange outcry ? Be still. 
 
SOCRATES. 
 
 A. man should die in peace. Give me the cup, 
 For not more gladly would a captive loose 
 His galling chains than I would break away 
 From these dark gropings to the eternal light 
 Of sinless liberty." 
 
GWEN. 
 
 LUE-EYED little maiden, 
 With thine eyes soul-laden 
 Beaming into mine, 
 Tell me of the gladness. 
 Free from taint of sadness, 
 That in them doth shine. 
 
 Clasp of tiny fingers. 
 How it fondly lingers 
 
 In my hand, the while 
 Little footsteps patter, 
 And thy baby chatter 
 
 Wins an answering smile. 
 
24 GWEN. 
 
 Like the flight of swallow 
 Over hill and hollow, 
 
 Touching here and there, 
 So thou prattlest brightly 
 As thy mind flits lightly 
 
 Through a region fair. 
 
 For thy joy the sages. 
 All the lore of ages 
 
 Gladly would resign ; 
 Thou dost fear no sorrow, 
 Heeding no to-morrow 
 
 With the present thine. 
 
 To some unfound treasure. 
 Some elusive pleasure, 
 
 We look ever on, 
 Finding not the beauty 
 In our daily duty 
 
 Till the day is done. 
 
GWEN. 25 
 
 Failing to unravel 
 Tangles as we travel 
 
 On the road to fame, 
 We ourselves keep weaving 
 Denser webs, believing 
 
 Fate alone to blame. 
 
 Webs of dark suspicion, 
 Cruel supposition. 
 
 Faith and peace destroy ; 
 Misbelief impedes us. 
 Wilful error leads us, 
 
 From the path of joy. 
 
 Striving yet for greatness. 
 Wearied by the lateness 
 
 Of the promised praise. 
 Nought can still the longing, 
 Or the thickly thronging 
 
 Fears that fill our ways. 
 
26 GWEN. 
 
 Love that nestles by us 
 With sweet cords would tie us 
 
 To the joys we hold ; 
 And the love denied us 
 Long we for beside us 
 
 With desire untold. 
 
 Empty phantoms beckon, 
 And no cost we reckon, 
 
 Pressing heedless on ; 
 Passing by the real 
 On to an ideal. 
 
 But to find it gone. 
 
 Blue-eyed little maiden. 
 With thine eyes love-laden, 
 
 Thine the truest bliss ; 
 Dreading no to-morrow, 
 Every pain and sorrow 
 
 Healbd by a kiss. 
 
HERO AND LEANDER. 
 
 f ITHIN a tower, 
 
 Moss-grown and weather-worn, near where 
 the fane 
 Of Sestos looms upon the Thracian shore, 
 Reclines a priestess, through the noonday heat 
 That fills the dreamy soul with listlessness. 
 And faint upon her careless ear there falls 
 The soft, low lapping of the summer waves. 
 That woo with frequent kiss the unmoved shore. 
 The zephyrs murmur as they dally light 
 Round bronzed sedge and crispfed leaves, and bear 
 Ambrosial odours from the poppied fields. 
 The filmy vapours dance along the sands 
 That gleam like molten gold : the dazzled eye 
 
28 HERO AND LEANDER. 
 
 Seeks rest amid the nestling shades, wherein 
 
 Embowered love-birds twitter each to each, 
 
 And drowsy owlets veil their shrinking orbs. 
 
 She dreams the love-dream that makes life as blithe 
 
 As happy idylls, rhymed in sunny meads ; 
 
 And, as the hours creep by, the thoughts that spring 
 
 From her heart's well flow forth in utterance : 
 
 " What do the wavelets sing, 
 
 Merrily glancing ? 
 
 What do the blue-flowers ring. 
 
 All their bells dancing ? 
 
 Love's in the balmy air. 
 
 Kissing the sea. 
 
 Come thou, O Love, and find 
 
 Love waiting thee. 
 
 " What says the southern breeze, 
 Bringing the swallow ? 
 What say the whispering trees 
 Down in the hollow ? 
 
HERO AND LEANDER. 29 
 
 Heart of the blushing rose 
 Welcomes the bee. 
 Love in my heart o'erflows 
 Richly for thee. 
 
 " What breathes the thirsty flower 
 
 To cloudlets o'er sailing ? 
 
 When the cool raindrops shower 
 
 Freshness unfailing ? 
 
 So when the shades of night 
 
 Creep o'er the sea, 
 
 Come thou, my heart's delight, 
 
 Come thou to me ! " 
 
 And now the gloaming deepens into night, 
 The strengthening North breathes colder o'er the dells, 
 And half-closed jasmine eyes dew-beaded weep 
 The day's good-bye. She wearies for the hour 
 When the black wings of night shall shadow earth, 
 And fan all jealous eyes to sleepfulness. 
 
30 HERO AND LEANDER. 
 
 'Tis then Leander dares to breast the rush 
 
 Of the swift Hellespont, to keep his tryst, 
 
 His never-broken tryst, while Eros nerves 
 
 His sinewy arm to cleave the opposing brine. 
 
 It is the hour of Love which draws the soul 
 
 Frorn self ; when hand seeks hand in lingering clasp, 
 
 And through the swimming eyes a steadfast light 
 
 Shines like a beacon of the love within. 
 
 Then over Hero's pure pale face there flits 
 
 The light of joy expectant chased by fear, 
 
 As shades of floating island-clouds pursue 
 
 The sunbeams falling on the billowy grass. 
 
 And, as the shy bird hovers round its nest 
 
 Wherein its azure treasures hide, nor leaves 
 
 Them far, so ever circle her fond thoughts 
 
 Round him she loves. " And now the beacon-light 
 
 Beams on the sea and marks a pathway clear ; 
 
 And now above, the twinkling stars peer through 
 
 Their fleecy veil, and fleck his way with smiles. 
 
 Oh haste then ! haste, Leander, for I wait. 
 
HERO AND LEANDER. 31 
 
 The lagging day is done, the brooding night 
 Brings naught but light and joy to thee and me. 
 But hark ! methinks I hear his signal-call ! 
 Beat soft, my heart, and let me listen. Nay, 
 'Tis but the cry of sea-birds skimming o'er 
 The ever-mounting, ever-sinking wave. 
 Then circling far. Yet Ust ! methinks I hear 
 The step of holy men, who may, perchance. 
 Have spied our secret tryst, and come to tear 
 Me from my love. Ye shall not, cruel ones ! 
 I say ye shall not sever us. But hush ! 
 Wild words, 'tis naught but rustling owls that wake 
 Among the ivy boughs that hug my tower. 
 They say for me to love is sin ! Ah no ! 
 It is not so. For have not they, the Gods 
 Infallible, by whose creative will 
 We are, entwined this love within our souls, 
 Weavingjits woof through all the warp of life ? 
 'Tis love that bears us in her bosom safe 
 Through helpless infant days ; 'tis love that guides 
 
32 HERO AND LEANDER. 
 
 Our childhood's tottering feet, and threads with us 
 The tangled maze of youth. If thus we take, 
 May we not also give and joy therein ? 
 In youth we know not what we will or want. 
 Desire grows with us as we grow. If love 
 Be sin, shall we not curse the mortal needs 
 Immortals gave ? A shallow current stirs 
 The calm of tideless childhood ; but to break 
 The ebb and flow of passion's surging sea, 
 In the deep soul of womanhood mature, 
 Is impotent and vain. Naught then avail 
 Their holy words to stem my love's full tide. 
 Chained though I be with bonds inseverable. 
 And solemn vow of consecrated days. 
 My soul hath not the wings to bear it up 
 Above an earthly love. My heart would rest 
 Below, and its affections dwell amidst 
 The toil of life, among the hearts that joy 
 And sorrow in the world. Better to share 
 With one strong soul the earth-born ecstasies. 
 
HERO AND LEANDER. 33 
 
 Than pine upon the altar-steps alone. 
 Ye Gods, forgive me, if my woman's love. 
 My human weakness, sully aught of high 
 And pure and holy, due from maiden hands 
 To your celestial shrines. The purest gem 
 Is born of soil most gross, yet flashes clear 
 As yon empyreal essence of your stars. 
 So may my service at your altar shine 
 As bright, my love though worldly born and fed 
 Rise purified before the ethereal gods : 
 It is my treasure trove. I yield it not 
 To any mortal power, for 'tis a gift 
 Immortal." While those words impetuous 
 Poured from her coral lips, the voice she loved 
 Breathed music in her ear, and prayer and fear 
 Alike were lost within Leander's arms. 
 
 Again 'tis night. The sudden gathering clouds 
 Roll o'er the starless dome their pitchy mass, 
 Driven by the wrathful breath of Boreas, 
 i) 
 
34 HERO AND LEANDER. 
 
 The jagged shafts of Zeus send gleaming rifts 
 
 Athwart the livid sky, above the abyss 
 
 That fearsome yawns 'twixt seething heights of surge, 
 
 Whose foaming crests lash the far sounding shore, 
 
 Or high o'erblown, rain down in flaky showers. 
 
 Crash upon crash of thunder shakes the earth. 
 
 The aerial tongues of land and sea lament 
 
 In one great grief, as though the treacherous storm 
 
 Had wrought some grievous woe unutterable. 
 
 But darkest shades oft herald brightest dawn, 
 
 Ajid fiercest storm serenest calm : so now 
 
 King .^olus recalls the revelling winds, 
 
 And chains them down within his hollow den, 
 
 Whence echo fitful moans and sullen sobs. 
 
 And there afar, where sky and ocean blend. 
 
 The blushing light outbreaks in timorous smiles, 
 
 Aurora guides her fresh-yoked car aloft 
 
 The Orient ; and high and higher mount 
 
 Her foam-flecked steeds, scattering with hoofs of flai 
 
HERO AND LEANDER. 35 
 
 The ruddy trails of the yet lingering clouds. 
 The billows smooth their long-drawn swell, and spray 
 The glistening cliflfs in silvery sheen : the birds 
 Peer from their sheltered nooks, and greet the morn 
 With twittering acclaim ; the rock-girt pools 
 Outspread their weedy tracery to the sun. 
 While living arrows shoot and gleam beneath. 
 Sweet symphonies float on the balmy air — 
 The gleeful strains that blend from waking earth. 
 And sky, and sea ; for Morn has brought a gift 
 Within her glowing hands, the gift of life 
 Renewed. 
 
 And see with lightsome step there comes 
 That vestal priestess o'er the shining strand, 
 Herself as joyous as the joyous morn. 
 For now hath passed the pitiless storm that kept 
 Her love away, all dark foreboding fled 
 With its cruel winds. And, ere begin the works 
 Of sacred hours, she fain would breathe the clear 
 
36 HERO AND LEANDER. 
 
 Fresh air, and from the gladsome world around 
 
 Find the sweet sympathy her spirit craves. 
 
 " Oh, Mother Earth, your happy voices stir 
 
 Harmonious melodies within my heart : 
 
 Nature herself is not more glad than I, 
 
 Her gladsome child. Ye rolling biUows, chant 
 
 Poseidon's praises in an endless hymn, 
 
 And wash your brightest pearls unto my feet. 
 
 Pure as the dews of eve, that I may deck 
 
 Me fair to greet my love to-night. O tell, 
 
 Thou laughing spray, what message would'st thou speak 
 
 Perchance ye bear sweet kisses from his lips ; 
 
 Perchance ye bring some promise, that no more 
 
 The ruthless waves shall part my love and me : 
 
 Nay, rather that their helpful rise and fall 
 
 Shall bear Leander safe, again to keep 
 
 His tryst." 
 
 Is it but fancy that she hears 
 A voice, that, sweet as Amphitrite's own, 
 
HERO AND LEANDER. 37 
 
 Replies, " We bear him safe to thee ? " Whereon 
 
 Moving in tranced wonderment, she nears 
 
 The pebbled margin of the shore, her eyes 
 
 Far searching all the heaving waste. What dread 
 
 Of coming anguish fills her heart, what cry 
 
 Upon her pallid lips is stayed, as stays 
 
 The sound of harp-string snapt beneath some swift 
 
 Destroying touch ? Pale as the foam that laves 
 
 Her feet, she stands awhile unconscious, still. 
 
 Then, with one tearless sob, as if the power 
 
 To suffer had again returned and burst 
 
 The flood-gates of her overflowing pain, 
 
 She heedless rushed into the waves and clasped. 
 
 In frenzied love, the lifeless form they bore 
 
 Unto her outstretched arms. 
 
 With hollow moan 
 The sea received the twain to its embrace ; 
 Its soundless depths their trysting-place ; its dirge 
 Their bridal song. 
 
LOVE'S SONG. 
 
 'HAT is this love that thrilleth, 
 To whose sweet voice 
 Each heart Hsts as Love willeth, 
 
 And knows no choice ? 
 Then to the coming ages 
 
 And our to-day, 
 To lowly ones and sages 
 Love sang this lay : 
 
 "I am a hope to the dreary, 
 A watchword to the strong, 
 
 A flawless woof for the weary 
 When all life's threads go wrong ; 
 
 A tireless foot for the flying 
 Along Time's shifting sands. 
 
LOVE'S SONG. 39 
 
 A cooling fount to the dying 
 
 In barren parchfed lands ; 
 A fadeless crown for the victor 
 
 In sin and sorrow's strife ; 
 A deathless joy, when the longed for 
 
 Smiles not upon our life ; 
 A plea against the sentence 
 
 Each one must meet alone, 
 A help to the soul's repentance, 
 
 To deeds, that sins atone ; 
 A trust in the mystic Being 
 
 No soul can understand, 
 A link to the great All-seeing 
 
 Who holds us in His hand." 
 
 Ay, such is the love that Ungers 
 Around our mortal days, 
 
 And tunes with an Angel's fingers 
 Our ceaseless song of praise. 
 
MEMORIES. 
 
 |H ! memories of the bygone years, that fall 
 On wearied hearts, soft as the misty rain 
 )n arid fields, return to us and call 
 For harvests free from pain. 
 
 ["wo children playing 'neath the shade of yews 
 Where flickering sunbeams through the branches pass, 
 
 ^nd flowers peer, their sweet eyes wet with dews. 
 Above the long-grown grass. 
 
 Their voices mingle with the streamlet's purl 
 That o'er the rounded pebbles glistening flows ; 
 
 Their feet dance lightly as the leaves that whirl 
 When breath of autumn blows. 
 
MEMORIES. 41 
 
 The laverock greets their rising with her song, 
 
 And myriad gnats dance round their noon-tide play, 
 
 And cawing rooks are building all day long 
 Mid feathery tree-tops' sway. 
 
 Thus year by year in ever-deepening flow 
 
 Their two lives mingle. Every quickening spring, 
 
 Ripe summer, leafy fall, and winter's snow 
 Sees their love strengthening. 
 
 Fostered with happiness. Grief's sable wings 
 Their spirits fan unfelt, for all the zests 
 
 Of new-born hopes, from never-failing springs 
 Upwelling, fill their breasts. 
 
 Glad days' of childhood, whose delights enfold 
 The little seeds that spring in later years 
 
 To bear abundant fruit ! Oh ! bliss untold 
 Purchased with after tears ! 
 
 The fragrance of your long since fading flowers 
 Is wafted to us still : our weary feet 
 
42 MEMORIES. 
 
 Would fain once more be loitering where the hours 
 Joy-wing'd were all too fleet. 
 
 * # # # « 
 
 A shadowy dark'ning creeps o'er all the land ; 
 
 The wakeful nightingale renews her lay 
 To Cynthia pale, who, fresh-lit lamp in hand, 
 
 Bids farewell to the day. 
 
 Welcome the twilight hour, when languor soft 
 Steals o'er the heart and limbs, and yearning thought 
 
 Wings on its dreamy flight ! 'Tis then that oft 
 Regrets for deeds unwrought 
 
 Rise ghostlike in the gloom, haunting the heart ; 
 
 Our nestling hopes grow into full desires. 
 Bright gleams of bliss upon the rapt soul dart 
 
 Like marsh-lights' fitful fires. 
 
 Uncertain sounds fall on the ear. From far 
 Soft chimes are on the breezes borne, and deep 
 
 In the clear vault above each studding star 
 Its silent watch doth keep. 
 
MEMORIES. 43 
 
 And in the night's profounder loneliness 
 The brooding heart fills with a deeper sense 
 
 Of hope and fear, and coming griefs distress 
 With anguish more intense. 
 
 'Tis well that healing sleep will close the eye 
 
 Heavy with unshed tears, — when the flushed cheek 
 
 And quivering lip tell how the morn's good-bye 
 Will wring the heart to speak. 
 
 To part ! 'Gainst that decree the spirit strives 
 Aghast. When love reveals itself, and breaks 
 
 With fullest meaning on two fate-link'd lives, 
 Then is it passion wakes, 
 
 And cries against a doom, which in its power 
 
 Is cruel as the hoar-frost's early blight, 
 Whose baneful beauty steals upon the flower 
 
 Ere comes the morning light. 
 
 So on those twain the pain of parting lies. 
 Though yet no grief of future days they see, 
 
44 MEMORIES. 
 
 For mercy holds a veil between our eyes 
 And what is yet to be. 
 
 As hand to hand in closest clasp is strained, 
 And clinging lips send thrill from heart to heart, 
 
 Oh ! what avails the glory to be gained 
 That tears their lives apart ! 
 
 A trackless plain whereon the blazing sun 
 Beats ever pitiless. No moment's shade 
 
 Of passing cloud creeps o'er, no limpid run 
 Of waters 'midst a glade. 
 
 The sapless grass droops thirsting for the rain. 
 
 The crisp'd leaves crackle down as seared by blight; 
 
 The hills in dim haze trembling crave again 
 The soft cool touch of night. 
 
 And there is heard the clang of warring steel, 
 As men ride on to glory or to doom 
 
MEMORIES. 45 
 
 Through hurtling spears, the rifle's rattling peal, 
 And cannon's sullen boom. 
 
 And one, the foremost in the strife, inspired 
 By far-oif love, seeks no wide-bruited praise, — 
 
 Her pride the guerdon by his soul desired. 
 Her love his crown of bays. . 
 
 But when along the slowly-darkening west 
 The blood-red sun sinks in the lurid sky. 
 
 Prone on a foreign land's ungenial breast 
 He lies alone — to die. 
 
 * * # # # 
 
 Oh ! weary is the lingering thro' long years. 
 
 When those we cherish from our grasp are torn, 
 
 Remembrance only stays the starting tears 
 And cheers the heart forlorn. 
 
 Oft in the deepening of the twilight gloom 
 
 When shadows creep and hearth-fire fitful plays. 
 
 Thought bridges o'er the hours that part the tomb 
 From early sun-lit days. 
 
5 MEMORIES. 
 
 And like the treasures of the ocean bed, 
 
 That deep-stirred waves wash forth upon the shore, 
 
 We gather mem'ries of delights long dead 
 Brought back in dreams once more. 
 
 Yes, surely dear ones from thfe shadow-land 
 
 Soothe with their mystic presence those who mourn. 
 
 And hover o'er us as we longing stand 
 Gazing beyond life's bourn. 
 
 For often in the silent brooding hour, 
 
 Some subtle sweetness mingles with our pain, 
 
 And, warm in fancy, long-lost kisses shower 
 Upon our lips again. 
 
 And eyes long closed gaze with their olden light. 
 And heart replies to heart in thrilling tone ; 
 
 We hear love's echoes from the eternal night. 
 And are not all alone. 
 
LORDS AND LADIES. 
 
 I HE lords and ladies in the hedge 
 Had wakened with the Spring,— 
 They opened wide their pale-green hoods, 
 To hear the blackbirds sing. 
 
 A lord unto a lady said 
 
 " Red flush I with the thought, 
 
 That I to thee dare lift mine eyes 
 When I no wealth have brought. 
 
 " Thou art so sweet and pure, that I 
 
 Do love thee beyond gold, 
 I tremble with delight, and yet 
 
 How can I be so bold ! 
 
 " And I would give a sceptre rare 
 Into thy hands to wield, 
 
48 LORDS AND LADIES. 
 
 But I can only give thee, dear, 
 A throne in this green field." 
 
 The lady smiled in sweet content, 
 Her heart was glad and free ; 
 
 In silence — bent her stately head, 
 Then answered prettily. 
 
 " No sceptre is so great as love. 
 No kingdom half so grand. 
 
 Dear lord, I will not say thee nay. 
 But give to thee my hand." 
 
 Then off he threw his pale-green hood. 
 And stepped with courtly grace 
 
 Down from his shady bramble-bower 
 To kiss her dainty face. 
 
 The hyacinths all opened wide 
 Their blue eyes in surprise, 
 
 " Ah me ! these lords and ladies fair 
 Are most uncommon wise ! " 
 
EDELWEISS. 
 
 I HE love I wed with mine," the maiden said, 
 " Shall be no untried love. A peerless fame 
 And hero deeds must set my heart in flame. 
 
 " If thou wouldst light that flame, go scale yon crags. 
 And near the fields of everlasting ice 
 Cull me the rarest blooms of Edelweiss. 
 
 " Seek them, nor heed the valley's richer flowers, 
 Not one, but many, shalt thou bring to me. 
 The chosen blooms of spotless purity." 
 
 He made no pause, but turned him to the hills — 
 Hope full-assured flashed in his strong grey eye : 
 He spake no other word but soft " good-bye." 
 
 E 
 
50 EDELWEISS, 
 
 On past the level ways of groundling folk, 
 
 On past the pleasure haunt, the revelling throng. 
 
 Hastes he with swerveless feet, and like a song 
 
 Is ringing through his throbbing brain the while, 
 " The Edelweiss for her and love for me ! 
 Beloved, what laden hands I'll bring to thee." 
 
 How cool the valley and the bosky glen 
 Where brooklets murmur their enticing lay. 
 And bid the wanderer seek the shaded way. 
 
 And 'mid the lush-grass sink to dreamless sleep. 
 A low voice breathes " How far the snow ! 
 And see what lovelier flowers bloom below ! 
 
 " Sweeter to rest and wreathe the lowly buds 
 
 In odorous woods, where wind-flowers trembling raise 
 
 Their pure, pale lips, and wingfed gorse blooms blaze. 
 
 " 'Tis but the few shall mount those summits high, 
 'Tis but the few shall reach the untrod ice. 
 Or cull the stainless blooms of Edelweiss." 
 
EDELWEISS. 51 
 
 Though cold and rough the blasts, with dauntless mien 
 The heights he gains and feels nor toil nor care, 
 And many snow-white blossoms he doth bear. 
 
 Quick downward from the lonely wilds he comes. 
 
 Eager to lay them at her feet and hear 
 
 Her soft voice answering him in accents clear, 
 
 To see the rose-flush mantle her pale cheek ; 
 To see the love-light in her eyes outshine 
 When he shall murmur softly, " These are thine. 
 
 " Each one was sought for thy dear sake, each one 
 Was sheltered white and pure, for well I knew 
 Thy word like Edelweiss was ever true." 
 
 The maiden took those blossoms hardly won. 
 And gently placed them in her throbbing breast, 
 " Thy love, not Edelweiss, my life hath blest." 
 
SIC ITUR AD ASTRA. 
 
 WILD storm-beaten coast, whereon 
 Are strewn afar the fragments torn 
 From many a wreck. The rocks are worn 
 By fretting waves of winters gone ; 
 
 And in their clefts the briny weed 
 Like tattered banners flaps the tide, 
 And screams of sea-gulls flitting wide 
 
 Sound shrill as rustic's untuned re^d. 
 
 A maiden wanders there, whose heart 
 Is desolate as that drear shore ; 
 She thinks upon the fate that bore 
 
 Her life from joy and love apart. 
 
SIC ITUR AD ASTRA. 53 
 
 Her hopes are broken as the crests 
 Of those tumultuous waves that roll 
 Towards her feet, yet on her soul 
 
 Henceforth a calm for ever rests. 
 
 The calm that follows fierce despair, 
 That comes when noble thoughts and true 
 Have conquered self, and light anew 
 
 Breaks through the clouds that dulled the air. 
 
 And, as she paces to and fro, 
 
 Amid the thunder of the seas 
 
 Are borne away upon the breeze 
 The words she murmurs soft and low — 
 
 " The winter's day is darkening fast ; 
 
 Sharp frosts have pent the welling spring ; 
 
 But in my soul clear echoes ring 
 From glowing days of summers past. 
 
 " Again the breath of woodland flowers 
 Wafts a faint fragrance round me, till 
 
54 SIC ITUR AD ASTRA. 
 
 I climb with thee the breezy hill, 
 And murmur at the fleet-winged hours. 
 
 " And in our hearts such joy doth flow 
 As makes the bird burst into song, 
 And thrill the air the whole day long 
 
 With music, that his mate doth know 
 
 " And answer in responsive trills. 
 We hear the wild notes, you and I, 
 And swift from heart to heart doth fly 
 
 The spark of love that fires our wills, 
 
 " Draws each to other till we find. 
 The fires ablaze that weld our lives 
 In oneness, that no sorrow rives. 
 
 In faith that needs no chains to bind. 
 
 " Again methinks our hands entwine ; 
 
 Thy soulful voice dispels my fears ; 
 
 Why shed I now these love-born tears ! 
 Deep joy and grief alike are mine. 
 
SIC ITUR AD ASTRA. 55 
 
 " I love thee still with love as pure 
 As waters from a crystal fount, 
 High thoughts of thee still higher mount 
 
 Knowing thy purpose, ever sure 
 
 " That through all scenes, and year by year, 
 Thou wilt but move to higher ends. 
 Thou wilt but use the gifts God sends 
 
 To good, through thine ordained career. 
 
 " This is thy watchword, ' ever on ' : 
 On past the surging crowd and strife, 
 On past the lowly walks of life, 
 
 Till crowning heights afar be won. 
 
 " Soaring as royal eagle's flight. 
 Keen as his eye that scans the sun, 
 Thy ardent hopes before thee run. 
 
 And lead the soul with surer sight 
 
 " Of great things to be done, to work 
 High as the vault where star gems glance, 
 
i6 SIC ITUR AD ASTRA. 
 
 Boundless as ocean's broad expanse ; 
 For deep within thy heart there lurk 
 
 " Cravings to mount above the plain 
 Of billowy sand-waste stretching far, 
 That, bound by the horizon bar. 
 
 In sameness palls the wearied brain. 
 
 " Though myriad sunbeams on it play, 
 The golden level tires thy feet ; 
 Thou hasten'st on with steps more fleet, 
 
 Eager to climb some steeper way — 
 
 " A way untrod by man before — 
 To reach some rarer height of fame, 
 Whereon to trace in words of flame 
 
 A scroll of deep and noble lore. 
 
 " Take then thy fill of joy, great soul, 
 Struggling to breathe serener air. 
 Mount up to things more noble, fair, 
 
 Press onward to that golden goal, 
 
SIC ITUR AD ASTRA. 57 
 
 " Where fame shall greet thee with a crown 
 Of laurels green. Then wilt thou rest, 
 Then only take unto thy breast 
 
 The calm content of full renown." 
 
ECHO AND NARCISSUS. 
 
 'S once I chanced to roam in Thessaly 
 Adown Peneus' bank, towards Tempe's vale, 
 There broke upon mine ear a silvery voice 
 Re-echoing from the hills in melody, 
 Then trembling into silence. Soon again 
 It on the Zephyrs came, uncertain, faint, 
 As fitful light of summer's evening star. 
 So dying, thrilled my heart and touched a chord 
 Of answering pain. 
 
 I wondering mused what meant 
 Those strangely varying sounds, when lo ! methought 
 From out the far-off years I heard a voice 
 Breathe the sad tale of that fair spy of Zeus, 
 Who merged her life in grief for him she loved. 
 
ECHO AND NARCISSUS. 59 
 
 Unloved herself the while. 
 
 'Twas early year, 
 When Spring-tide's genial call awaked the land, 
 Quickening the frost-bound clods with budding life : 
 When showerets nursed the violet, and air 
 Was filled with balmy fragrance, and the woods 
 With stir of life and song. The roseate clouds 
 Were trailing round the footsteps of the dawn. 
 Changing anon to gold ; beneath the firs 
 Cool waters roamed through odorous shades, and stole 
 The dew-beads from the grass. 
 
 Above them leaned 
 A youth, in beauty like a sculptor's dream, 
 Faultless of face, firm-wrought of limb, and fair 
 As Dian's self: who, as he stooped to dip 
 His cup into a crystal pool, did pause. 
 And straightway lost himself in wonderment, — 
 Chase, stag, and hound forgotten, and his spear 
 Fallen unheeded, — for a mirrored charm 
 Held all his soul. 
 
6o ECHO AND NARCISSUS. 
 
 The garish eye of noon 
 Peered through the tree-tops, until waves 
 Of vaporous heat rose quivering from the earth : 
 Yet still he lingered, filled with ravishment. 
 And soon o'er hill and dale the uncertain rays 
 Of opal eve shed through the woodland depths 
 Mysterious long-drawn shades ; when lo ! there stole. 
 Like some shy tender fawn, from forth the grove 
 A maiden beauteous as the Dryads' queen. 
 Her dark eyes swam with yearning, and her brow. 
 Whereon the mantling blushes came and fled. 
 Told how the alternate rush of hopes and fears 
 Quickened and dulled her heart. She wistful gazed. 
 As one who pines to know, but cannot ask ; 
 For on her tongue the vengeful Queen of Heaven 
 Had laid a spell, which, when she most did yearn 
 To utter that which well-nigh burst her heart, 
 Still stemmed the impatient torrent of her speech : 
 And yet when some chance voice fell on her ear. 
 Some shriek of bird, some call of man or beast. 
 
ECHO AND NARCISSUS. 61 
 
 There came another spell, forcing her lips 
 Against her mind's consent to ope themselves 
 And mock response, uttering the self-same cry 
 In self-same tones : thus was she to her tongue 
 A helpless slave, obeying when it bade, 
 Bidding it never. Therefore mute she stood, 
 ■ Her eyes all eloquent with speechless love. 
 
 The dimpling shallows purled their liquid notes 
 Melodiously ; from leafy mass o'erhead 
 The aerial minstrelsy with russet throats 
 Trilled one blithe song of love : the meadow-sweet, 
 A feathery fringe, fanned and caressed the stream, 
 As gently o'er it crept the vernal breeze. 
 
 But list ! at length he speaks, yet not to her. 
 But to that luring image in the pool : 
 " O fair one, fairest of all things that be ! 
 Thy coy sweet beauty ravishes my soul. 
 Thine eyes, more deep than any Naiad nymph's. 
 
62 ECHO AND NARCISSUS. 
 
 Gaze on me with that look I oft have marked — 
 
 But heeded not — when one of those fond maids 
 
 (Who after, as they told me, pined away 
 
 And died for me, though wherefore knew I not,) 
 
 Meeting me in the woods, stood all transfixed, 
 
 As now thou seem'st. Yet not so bright their eyes, 
 
 So liquid, or of such strange potency. 
 
 For those thine orbs send forth some mystic power 
 
 That changes all my being. Am I he, 
 
 Am I Narcissus, he whose only joy 
 
 Was in the chase ? whose one supreme delight 
 
 Was in that moment when the boar at bay 
 
 Lunged at me with his tusks ? Or am I he 
 
 To whom each beauteous form of youth was such 
 
 As marble sculpture is, a lovely thing 
 
 To glad the passing eye — no more ? But now. 
 
 What is this strange wild thrilling of the nerves. 
 
 This throbbing of the heart, this yearning zeal 
 
 To pour my inmost being out to thee ? 
 
 Is this that Love of which I hear men tell ? 
 
ECHO AND NARCISSUS. 63 
 
 They oft did warn me that the Cyprian Queen 
 
 Is jealous of her dues, and, soon or late, — 
 
 The later all the crueller — claims her own. 
 
 But I was all for Dian. Art thou then 
 
 The instrument of Aphrodite's wrath, 
 
 Sent here to make me feel what I have made 
 
 Others to suffer, — though without my will ? 
 
 Nay ! not to suffer, for I see in thee 
 
 Soulful response : I see thy lips, thine eyes. 
 
 Thine agitated breast, thy pleading hands, 
 
 All answering to mine own. Oh let us then 
 
 Mingle our souls in all the boundless bliss 
 
 Of fullest union evermore ! Oh come ! 
 
 And I will meet thee coming. Come, my love ! " 
 
 Then with the self-same passion of the voice. 
 
 The self-same tenderness and fearful hope, 
 
 Came back the tremulous answer, " Come, my love ! " 
 
 Not once, but oft repeated ; for the maid 
 
 Had loosed her tongue, which, moving as 'twas wont 
 
 Without her will — though not against her will 
 
64 ECHO AND NARCISSUS. 
 
 Now, as so oft — still murmured " Come my love ! 
 My love." 
 
 With start of joy and passionate bliss 
 Of crowning hopes, he bent down o'er the stream. 
 Pleading tumultuously : " Speak yet again. 
 And say thou mock'st me not. Nay ! come to me ! 
 Think but of all the fathomless delights 
 That would be ours, and make our every day 
 A round of rapture, more replete with joys 
 Than those old days of Saturn, or than theirs 
 Who walk the Elysian fields of asphodel. 
 Hand locked in hand we'd roam along the hills. 
 The springtide's voices not so blithe as ours. 
 April's new songs are ringing in mine ear, 
 The cuckoo calls, theswallow on the wing 
 Wooes his soft mate, and hyacinths' wild bells 
 Send down the breeze a nuptial melody. 
 'Tis love-time : come ! for ever to be mine ! " 
 The amber daffodil nods sweet assent. 
 As to his ear, though not from out the stream, 
 
ECHO AND NARCISSUS. 6.? 
 
 Comes sighing thrice " Be mine ! Be mine ! Be mine ! ' 
 Yet each time fainter, for sad Echo finds 
 But such weak voice as some exhausted one 
 Who, drowning, fondly hopes his feeble cries 
 Reach far. 
 
 Then silently he turned and gazed 
 On her, as one who, rousing from deep sleep, 
 Seeks for he knows not what, his dreamy eyes 
 Seeing, yet seeing not. She, all abashed. 
 And shrinking from the coldness of his gaze, 
 As shrinketh one who from a hand beloved 
 Receives his death-wound, turned and fled afar 
 Into the inmost twilight of the wood. 
 The breeze moaned with the burden of her sobs. 
 And aspens' quivering sympathy disturbed 
 The stillness of the hour. His heart unmoved 
 By any thought of her. Narcissus still 
 Bent o'er the Umpid pool and dreamed. 
 
 O youth. 
 
66 ECHO AND NARCISSUS. 
 
 Who in your dreams of happiness, or love, 
 
 Or fame, see but yourselves : ye waste your strength, , 
 
 If naught but self reflects in all ye see ! 
 
 Strength ever grows through love, and when 'tis merged 
 
 Into some other life outside your own, 
 
 It straight forgets its selfish aims, and seeks 
 
 To work a wider good : perchance to raise 
 
 A helpful arm for weaklings of the earth : 
 
 Perchance to rouse with winged words of fire 
 
 A sluggish nation's pride, or on its wrath 
 
 Pour counsels soft as flakes of winter snow : 
 
 Perchance through manly use of deeper lore 
 
 To shed abiding influence on a land 
 
 That still shall bless your name. A great man's fame 
 
 With clarion sound is heralded from age 
 
 To age, and as the centuries roll on 
 
 And myriads of lesser lives pass by 
 
 And are forgot, his name yet lives on lips 
 
 Of men, sounding through all hereafters. 
 
ECHO AND NARCISSUS. 67 
 
 On a wild autumn night, 
 Swift lowering scud swept o'er the sky and chased 
 With mad delight the moonbeams, which through rifts 
 Of ragged cloud still struggled fitfully. 
 The stone-pine's knotty arms hugged fast the gloom 
 And wooed the rough winds with a sough of joy, 
 As they who loved its passion, and to whom 
 Its anger was fierce rapture. The dark stream 
 Swelled till its waters over-rushed the banks, 
 Which erst they laved and loved : while broken rocks 
 Were rolled and dashed from point to point in wrath. 
 The murky depths yawned treacherous, and swirled, 
 And downward sucked the sodden yellow leaves. 
 As in that deadly pass Charybdis whelms 
 In its weird black abyss all them that shun 
 O'er-cautiously fell Scylla's dismal cave. 
 The night-birds shrieked and fiercely flapped the air : 
 Nature's wild mood was on her, yet amidst 
 Her bursts of tumult rose one great accord, 
 A rolling chant of thunder, blasts, and rains. 
 
68 ECHO AND NARCISSUS. 
 
 In grandest harmony. 
 
 On the soaked earth 
 Narcissus lay, outstretched and motionless, 
 His head upon his arm laid low, despair 
 And misery upon his upturned face. 
 On which would fall a faint and glimmering light, 
 Then leave but deeper darkness. The fierce storm 
 Had driven away and hid from him his love : 
 No longer he beheld the witching face. 
 That hour by hour and day by day he watched 
 All soul-entranced. 
 
 Dreaming, ay, dreaming on : 
 The pleasure is so sweet ! What matters it 
 If other hearts are broken as we dream ? 
 The lotus-flowers are so fair to cull. 
 Their perfume is so sweet. 
 
 Still now of hope bereft 
 He waited yearning, till despair's fell grip 
 Seized on him. For a moment's space the moon 
 Poured her full radiance on the pool : he turned. 
 
ECHO AND NARCISSUS. 69 
 
 And lo ! again that face : but ah ! how changed ! 
 Whereon with cry of anguish blent with joy 
 He leaped to her embrace : " To thee, O love ! 
 To thee ! " — and o'er his head the waters foamed 
 And eddied for a while, then boiled along. 
 
 Then she who watched, — for love o'ercoming shame, 
 
 And some small spark of still surviving hope, 
 
 Had brought her back once more, — wailed piteously, 
 
 " To thee, O love, to thee," and from the scene 
 
 Where love, hope, all, were whelmed, she fled afar, 
 
 And ever fading pined her life away : 
 
 Though yet the gods did make her voice live on 
 
 In immortality of restlessness. 
 
 And thus it is, where trackless moor and glen 
 
 In lonely stillness lie, where climbing peaks 
 
 In grandeur tower o'er fathomless abyss. 
 
 E'en midst the haunts of toiling men, is heard 
 
 That voice of Echo ever and anon." 
 
THE CHILDREN'S HOUR. 
 
 I HE cawing rooks fly to their nests ; 
 
 Again the song-birds hush their lay ; 
 O'er all the world a stillness rests, 
 
 And twilight shadows dance and play. 
 The book is closed, hands folded o'er. 
 
 The work, that rests the while, undone ; 
 See ! glad young faces at the door, 
 
 And hark ! the peals of mirth and fun. 
 Yes, 'tis the children's hour. 
 To waiting arms they run. 
 
 The little faces vie to press 
 
 Warm kisses on our willing lips. 
 
THE CHILDREN'S HOUR. 71 
 
 While loving prayers, unspoken, bless 
 
 The sunny heads, and finger tips 
 Pass gently o'er the cheek's soft bloom — 
 
 That seems as stolen from the rose ; 
 Then merry voices fill the room, 
 As round the fire-lit hearth we close, 
 For 'tis the children's hour, 
 Which naught but brightness knows. 
 
 " Play with us, play ! " Ah, yes, young hearts, 
 
 Well that your voices coax, and make 
 Us for awhile forget the smarts 
 
 Of striving day for your brief sake. 
 " Sing with us, sing ! " and youthful notes 
 
 Rise shrill in some time-hallowed strain, 
 Discord — sweet discord round us floats. 
 
 And ageing hearts grow young again — 
 It is the children's hour. 
 That knows nor care nor pain. 
 
72 THE CHILDREN'S HOUR. 
 
 " Now tell us stories, mother, dear ! " 
 
 How sweet the old and matchless word ! 
 Sweeter than aught that else we hear 
 
 From children's lips. What memories stirr'd 
 By that loved name rush o'er the soul ! 
 
 For sheltering arms we once more yearn 
 Now folded 'neath the grassy knoll. 
 
 Or marble sculptured urn. 
 Would that the children's hour 
 For her, too, could return. 
 
 " Come, children, nestle close to me 
 
 And question with your lips and eyes, 
 For, as ye listen, I would see 
 
 The starting flush and sweet surprise 
 At tales of brownie and of fay 
 
 That hide within your favourite glen. 
 And 'neath the moonlight's flickering ray 
 
 Bring fairy gifts to slumbering men." 
 
THE CHILDREN'S HOUR. 73 
 
 Sweet lore of children's hour, 
 Why need we further ken ? 
 
 Ah ! little ones, ye hold us fast 
 
 And thoughts of you like joy-bells chime 
 Around our lives, and link the past 
 
 And present in one long sweet rhyme. 
 And slumbering echoes wake anew, 
 
 For purity glows in your eyes, 
 And truth from out them shines so true 
 
 That from our hearts all falseness flies. 
 It is the children's hour 
 When purest thoughts arise. 
 
 The years roll by and leave their taint 
 
 Of sin upon us, and the weight 
 Of self-wrought grief, until we faint 
 
 Beneath the burden grown so great. 
 Fretted by sight of others' pain. 
 
 The voiceless suffering of the weak ; 
 
74 THE CHILDREN'S HOUR. 
 
 " Wherefore ? " we cry, but all in vain, 
 No answering oracle doth speak. 
 And in the children's hour 
 We fain for peace would seek. 
 
 Far off like some grand snowy height 
 
 That gleams anon through driving mist, 
 Some great End flashes on our sight ; 
 
 And on that peak the sun hath kissed, 
 Could we but stand, thence gazing back 
 
 Perchance heaven's echoes we might hear, 
 Perchance heaven's light upon our track 
 
 Might show the good of every tear, 
 And in the children's hour 
 Life's riddles read more clear. 
 
 Speak to our hearts, each bright young heart, 
 Perfect in love and faith, and bid 
 
 Us know that e'en as petals part 
 To breathe the fragrance 'neath them hid, 
 
THE CHILDREN'S HOUR. 75 
 
 So do ye breathe around life's hours 
 
 The sweetness naught can steal away 
 The sweetness of our cherished flowers. 
 
 Then ope bright blooms upon our way, 
 And make the children's hour 
 With beauty crowned each day. 
 
 Play on, ye little ones, play on, 
 
 And cheer us with your guileless mirth ; 
 Too soon your careless days are gone 
 
 And later years see sorrow's birth. 
 We love your bright eyes' merry glance, 
 
 We love your voices' gleesome ring ; 
 To trip with you th' unrhythm'd dance 
 
 Again doth childlike rapture bring. 
 It is the children's hour. 
 Sing on, ye children, sing. 
 
 Ye cradle our lost dreams anew. 
 Ye make love's echoes ceaseless sound, 
 
76 THE CHILDREN'S HOUR. 
 
 And, if for some the stretching yew 
 O'erguards a tiny daisied mound, 
 They have but laid their treasure where 
 God's angels tread with sacred feet ; 
 They have but heavenward sent a prayer 
 That, lisped before the mercy seat. 
 In God's own children's hour 
 Shall win an answer sweet. 
 
LULLABY. 
 
 1ST, my little ones, over the lea 
 Glad sounds are calling to you and to me, 
 Father is near, flocks haste to their fold. 
 Give father welcome with kisses untold. 
 
 Sleep, my little ones, through the long night 
 Angels shall greet you with visions of light ; 
 Wake, my little ones, through the long day 
 Father and mother will chase tears away. 
 
PAOLO AND FRANCESCA DI 
 RIMINI. 
 
 "Amor condusse noi ad una morte." — Dante. 
 
 LING closer to me, dearest ; 
 Would God that I could bear 
 For thee this whirlwind's fury, 
 For thee this murky air. 
 
 Wind thy soft arms around me — 
 I clasp thy murdered form ; 
 
 My love, by sorrow chastened, 
 Shall shield thee from the storm. 
 
 Together, aye together, 
 Though in the realm of shades, 
 
PAOLO AND FRANCESCA DI RIMINI. 79 
 
 Still this remains for us, dear, 
 One bliss that never fades : 
 
 Had some good angel whispered 
 
 My joy would be thy pain, 
 Would I have lingered near thee 
 
 Till I thy love did gain ? 
 
 Ah, no ! I loved thee fondly. 
 
 Thy converse, pure and sweet, 
 Like nectar thrilled my pulses, 
 
 And ofttimes would we meet 
 
 Where the olive and the citron 
 Their bowering leaves o'er-waved. 
 
 Or where the rippling waters 
 Their meadow margins laved. 
 
 The bees with honey laden 
 
 Droned on their drowsy song. 
 Where 'neath the starry jasmine 
 
 We watched the shades grow long. 
 
8o PAOLO AND FRANCESCA DI RIMINI. 
 
 Thy mind was like a garden 
 Where wealth of blossoms wild, 
 
 Untrained, unculled, uncared-for. 
 In rare profusion smiled. 
 
 We dreamt not that the tendrils 
 Of affection soon would grow, 
 
 Like creepers o'er the hedgerows 
 That the passion-flowers throw. 
 
 And silently around us 
 A web of love was spun ; 
 
 We knew not in what idle hour 
 Its threads were first begun. 
 
 Ah, dear, why dost thou shudder 
 At the voices of the wind ? 
 
 Naught but a fiend would whisper 
 To thee of aught unkind. 
 
 " Rest," didst thou say ? How gladly 
 I'd give to thee that rest. 
 
PAOLO AND FRANCESCA DI RIMINI. 8r 
 
 Tho' torments of the lowest sphere 
 For ever rack my breast. 
 
 Yet surely of all torments 
 
 That one is chief and worst, 
 To know that for our dearest 
 
 Life is by us accurst ; 
 
 Life and the dim Hereafter, 
 
 Unthought-of and unknown, 
 Within whose joyless regions 
 
 Our souls their sins atone. 
 
 Gaze in my eyes, my loved one, 
 
 Dost thou not therein see 
 A sun to cheer thy darkness. 
 
 My heart's true love for thee ? 
 
 Tell me thou hast forgiven 
 
 Aught that I caused of ill. 
 I hear thy words unspoken, 
 
 I feel thy kisses chill. 
 G 
 
82 PAOLO AND FRANCESCA DI RIMINI. 
 
 So clasp me closer, closer, 
 Press thy pale face to mine ; 
 
 When adverse winds rush o'er us 
 Do thou thine arms entwine 
 
 Fast around him who loves thee 
 With love that passeth death ; 
 
 That finds its heaven in thee, dear, 
 Nor ends with mortal breath. 
 
THE OLD GARDEN. 
 
 KNOW a garden where untrimmed 
 The rose-wreaths o'er the pathways sweep, 
 Where giant oak-trees tower thick-limbed, 
 And long and vagrant branches creep. 
 
 Grey hchens fringe the shrubs, and take 
 The hfe from many a stem and bud, 
 
 And spring-winds dreary echoes wake. 
 And dead cones fall with muffled thud ; 
 
 The daisies bright with tender reds 
 Hide 'neath the hyacinth's blue bells ; 
 
 The faint scents rise from hidden beds 
 Of primroses in brambled dells. 
 
84 THE OLD GARDEN. 
 
 And there two sisters wander now 
 
 With heads close bent and arms entwined, 
 
 Holding sweet converse, soft and low 
 As whisperings of the summer wind. 
 
 They speak of many a varied track 
 
 They've trodden since their childhood's days, 
 
 Of longings which have drawn them back 
 To see these old familiar ways. 
 
 They love those moss-grown walks, so long 
 And winding, — dear the sheltered nooks ; 
 
 More sweet to them the blackbird's song 
 Than poet's verse in gilded books. 
 
 The pillared aisles of oak and elm, 
 
 The glories of fair Nature's fane 
 And winged choir, their beings whelm 
 
 With a mixed sense of joy and pain. 
 
 Ah here, in careless, happy hours. 
 They raced with joyous footsteps round ! 
 
THE OLD GARDEN. 85 
 
 And here, each grew her favourite flowers 
 In some well-tended, sheltered ground. 
 
 " Surely the world has lost its song 
 
 Of brightness since those days gone by," 
 
 One sister murmurs, " and the strong 
 And simple faith of youth doth die. 
 
 " The faith that deemed all things so fair. 
 
 That saw no flaw in nature here ; 
 But now the rank weeds flourish where 
 
 The flowers throve, and dark blights sear. 
 
 " And this old garden seems so small, 
 That in my memory loomed so vast ; 
 
 The dimpled stream, the grey-stone wall — 
 All things are less than in the past. 
 
 " Is this the same loved place where we 
 
 First saw the crocus-cups of gold ? 
 The violets culled, and laughed in glee 
 
 Our purple treasures to behold ? 
 
86 THE OLD GARDEN. 
 
 " Is this the pool o'er which we hung 
 To watch the speckled trout ? I see 
 
 No beauteous depths, and yet I sung 
 Full often of their charms with thee. 
 
 " I see the marshlands, silent, cold, 
 Where fairy voices used to call ; 
 
 I see the iris-flags of gold 
 
 Wave o'er their lances green and tall ; 
 
 " And as of yore the sun-shafts play 
 On willow-wands and stunted trees, 
 
 Where winds the river on its way 
 'Mid mossy islets to the seas : 
 
 "But the low rustling of the reeds 
 Speaks only of the dear dead past. 
 
 When to me from the wind-swept meads 
 Bright petals eddied on the blast. 
 
 " The world has lost its song, 'tis not 
 The same bright world I erewhile knew ; 
 
THE OLD GARDEN. 87 
 
 Come, sister, let us go ! Forgot 
 Be those bright pictures that I drew. 
 
 " I thought to mourn that this old home 
 Should pass into a stranger's hands ; 
 
 But all is changed, and we may roam 
 Again to those far distant lands. 
 
 " Where new ties beckon ; where, we went 
 To meet the gifts the new years bring ; 
 
 Where we may live in sweet content, 
 And the old songs with new songs sing. 
 
 " Perchance 'tis after all the love 
 
 That daily clasps our hand, that makes 
 
 The whole earth fair. See ! dear, above, 
 The greyness from the blue sky breaks : 
 
 " We'll cull some fragrant flowers, and still 
 
 Find beauties as we pass along ; 
 And hark ! a lark mounts up, to fill 
 
 At eventide, the world with song." 
 
VERONICA. 
 
 E little flowers, like flecks of blue 
 
 From star-gemmed sky dropped down, 
 Ye gave the earth a glory new, 
 
 The morn-lit hill a crown. 
 Scentless and faded now ye be. 
 
 Your beauty fresh I miss. 
 But fresh there lies 'twixt you and me 
 The memory of a kiss. 
 
 The skylark thrilled the air with song, 
 Lost in blue depths above. 
 
 Then fell to earth on poisfed wing, 
 Ended — his song of love. 
 
VERONICA. 89 
 
 But ye were culled, sweet flowerets blue, 
 
 And though his song I miss, 
 Within my heart love's music stays 
 
 The memory of a kiss. 
 
 The pitiless blast and driving rain 
 
 Will beat the wintry wold. 
 Thy home, O flowers, be lone and far. 
 
 That hill-top gray and cold. 
 But ever to my eyes ye'U be 
 
 The fairest flowers of bliss. 
 For in my heart ne'er cold can be 
 
 The memory of a kiss. 
 
THE BELLS. 
 
 HE bells, the bells, I hear them brightly ring, 
 They tell of hopes the glad new year may 
 bring. 
 But in my heart sad memories crowd to-day. 
 For years but give, for years to steal away. 
 
 The snow, the snow, is falling everjwhere. 
 And covers earth with mantle bright and fair. 
 Ah, snow ! fall gently on the new-turned sod 
 Where I have left my cherished one with God. 
 
PENELOPE. 
 
 " Vetulam prsetulit immortalitati." 
 
 iTEALING the hours from restful sleep, 
 A woman's aching hands outfray 
 The web she wove throughout the day ; 
 And nightly doth she toil and weep — 
 
 Weep for lost years of wedded bliss, 
 With drooping head, like poppy bent 
 'Neath rain of many days. For blent 
 
 With pain she feels again that kiss. 
 
 When she a veilbd bride was borne 
 Unto her waiting bridegroom's love, 
 The while the merry dancers move 
 
 To gleeful notes of flute and horn. 
 
92 PENELOPE. 
 
 She sees the torchbrand's smoky light, 
 Hears the loud " lo Hymen" fill 
 The air : no shade of future ill 
 
 Falls o'er the present's full delight. 
 
 She breathes the calm of following years, 
 When, in their child, their mutual pride 
 And love flow on in mingled tide. 
 
 But now despondence only sears 
 
 The unburst buds of hopeful ways. 
 That they together trod. Alone ! 
 Shall aught of future bliss atone 
 
 The anguish of these waiting days ? 
 
 So, as she toils for his dear sake. 
 
 Her thoughts are borne, now here, now there. 
 Like swallow circling through the air 
 
 Seeking afar its missing mate. 
 
 And pictures she the shady grot, 
 
 Where oft the summer hours they spent. 
 
PENELOPE. 93 
 
 The feathery palm that o'er them bent, 
 Yes, all is there ! But he is not ! 
 
 She sees the vale slope toward the shore, 
 And there the bubbling waters meet, 
 Where oft they roamed in converse sweet, 
 
 Or conned the doughty deeds of yore. 
 
 "Again within the citron-grove 
 
 Soft petals fall like flakes of snow 
 
 Upon the perfumed earth below. 
 Where he and I were wont to rove. 
 
 " And amorous leaflets pitying bend 
 O'er golden hearts left bare and lone ; 
 And night winds sigh with gentle moan, 
 
 That beauty's day so soon must end. 
 
 " Our mossy seat the glow-worm marks 
 
 With mimic lantern all ablaze ; 
 
 And fireflies through the leafy maze 
 Flash like a shower of meteor sparks. 
 
94 PENELOPE. 
 
 " They tell me that thou hast forgot 
 Our sea-girt isle : that never mor^ 
 Thine hollow ship will seek the shore, 
 
 And that for thee our past is not. 
 
 " But oh ! I know that cannot be ! 
 
 So long our wedded lives were one. 
 
 It may be, e'er this night is done. 
 Thou wilt return to love and me. 
 
 " And while my hand unweaves and weaves 
 Each night and day the endless thread; 
 I listen for the strengthful tread 
 
 I welcomed in those bygone eves. 
 
 " As seeks the hunted bird its nest, 
 As longs the prisoner for the light, 
 As craves the blind one moment's sight. 
 
 So yearns my soul for thee and rest. 
 
 " And ofttimes in the silent night 
 Sweet dreams from Morpheus' ivory gate 
 
PENELOPE. 95 
 
 Bring all the rapture I await ; 
 But, when dawn puts the stars to flight, 
 
 " The vision fades, the dreary void 
 
 Alone remains, and all the pain 
 
 Born of thy absence lives again j 
 Yet faith in thee stands undestroyed. 
 
 " I watch the snow-white sail outspread 
 
 Afar on Tethys' azure plain. 
 
 It nears the shore. ' He comes again,' 
 I cry, ' he comes, he is not dead ! ' 
 
 " ' Alas ! not yet he comes ! ' And oft 
 I watch the sphere of heaven move round, 
 And pay rich vows on holy ground, 
 
 Still crying to the powers aloft : 
 
 " Send him, ye gods, or make my pain 
 Soften the stony hearts of those. 
 Who do but mock my bitter throes. 
 
 And fain would force me wed again. 
 
96 , PENELOPE. 
 
 " My constant love, once by thee won, 
 Glows bright as fire upon the shrine ; 
 My honour, which is thine, shall shine 
 
 Pure as the light that feeds the sun. 
 
 " Ye birds, that come from lands afar ; 
 
 Where stays my lord and king so long ? 
 
 With strains as sweet as siren's song 
 Draw him to me. Oh ! golden star 
 
 " Of love itself, do thou outshine 
 All other stars ; and let thy light 
 Direct his vessel's onward flight. 
 
 Swift cleaving through the seething brine ; 
 
 " And bring him home. Ye altars, burn 
 ' Your choicest incense, till it roll 
 In clouds to him, and steep his soul 
 
 In visions of a gUd return. 
 
 " Ye summer winds, oh, quickly bear 
 My cry to him ! Ye gods on high, 
 
PENELOPE. 97 
 
 Will your omnipotence deny 
 To grant a lone wife's deaseless prayer ? " 
 
 What beggar at the gate doth stand, 
 Unkempt, in sorry garments clad. 
 And, leaning on his staff, with sad 
 
 Grey eye surveys the glutton band ? 
 
 Lo ! from within fall on his ear 
 
 Loud song and strains of lute and lyre ; 
 Scarce bridles he his rising ire 
 
 At the rude scoff and ribald jeer. 
 
 He scans the revellers round, as one 
 
 Who knows, and yet knows not, the throng 
 Of faces, and who, absent long, 
 
 Returns to find some changed, some gone. 
 
 Maybe he is himself forgot J 
 Maybe no place in home or heart 
 H 
 
98 PENELOPE. 
 
 Is kept for him ! He has no part 
 In that gay scene, they know him not. 
 
 And now with scorn they call him nigh : 
 But see, the blind old hound, that lies 
 Before the ashen threshold, tries 
 
 To lick his hand, as he goes by. 
 
 The feasters' song is hushed, and groans 
 And sudden vengeance heard ! Then falls 
 Strange silence on the blood-stained halls. 
 
 Broken by feeble, fitful moans. 
 
 Lo ! him who begged, the court obeys — 
 Lord of his realm and long-left love. 
 And, in a turret-room above, 
 
 The shuttle rusts, the web decays. 
 
YOUNG LOVE. 
 
 H ! Young Love is so sweet, so sweet, 
 We fain would speed his dallying feet j 
 And Young Love is so fair, so fair, 
 We'd twine rare roses in his hair. 
 And bid age give a greeting meet 
 When Young Love trips along the street. 
 
 For age can see with clearer eyes. 
 And knows true love in every guise ; 
 And age can live past joys afresh, 
 And fain would wind the golden mesh 
 Around young hearts, and sorrow flies 
 When Young Love's happy carols rise. 
 
THE DEATH OF HYACINTH. 
 
 HLLED with unrest 
 And ill at ease, for sleep had bid mine eyes 
 Farewell — I rose and wandered through the wood 
 Where last year's fallen leaves clung round my feet. 
 It was the hour, the heavy hour that creeps 
 Its chilly course before the dawn — when e'en 
 The youngest life-blood flows more sluggishly — 
 That time when most the impatient soul breaks free 
 From that which clogs its flight unto the gods. 
 The uight-winds made their ghostly moan amid 
 The solemn pines, and heavy rain-tears hung 
 A beaded fringe along their hoary boughs. 
 The cries of night-birds echoed through the glen 
 Like mournful calHngs of remorseful souls 
 
THE DEATH OF HYACINTH. loi 
 
 That in the twilight gloom of Hades dwell : 
 
 Afar, the restless tide upon the shore 
 
 Toll'd forth a rolling dirge, that rose and swelled, 
 
 Sank slowly back and trembled to an end : 
 
 And, sweet as lute the gods have blessed, the voice 
 
 Of moss-lipped rills sung from their bosky depths. 
 
 The pallid stars peeped through the misty clouds, 
 
 And cradled song-birds twittered 'mid the leaves. 
 
 I lingered where the wood and moorland met : 
 
 I watched the huge black shades grow less, the forms 
 
 Of rock and shrub steal forth to clearer shape. 
 
 And whispered to my heart, " The glorious morn 
 
 Doth come, and griefs shall fly like these same shades.'' 
 
 And with that thought my heart was comforted. 
 
 Then fell a golden light on hill and vale. 
 
 As of some god who visited the earth, 
 
 But coming, hid as yet from mortal eyes 
 
 His dazzling glory 'neath a veil of gold. 
 
 And such it was : for o'er the windless wold 
 
 Came one, all beauteous ; whose young limbs of strength — 
 
102 THE DEATH OF HYACINTH. 
 
 Straight, fashioned in the mould of good — were clad 
 
 In shining drapery, more silvery, soft. 
 
 Than filmy clouds that cling around the moon. 
 
 His eyes, tear-moistened, shone like softest stars 
 
 Reflected in a mountain tarn. The torch 
 
 Of day was in his hand, gilding the trunks 
 
 Of fir with ruddy gold, wakening the birds 
 
 To hear his song. Alas ! not bright was it. 
 
 That song which fell from fair Apollo's lips 
 
 And thrill'd my soul : " Fair Hyacinth is dead ! " 
 
 Then ceased his voice in sobs, only again 
 
 To rise, repeating o'er the self-same plaint 
 
 In heart-wrung tones — " Fair Hyacinth is dead ! 
 
 Pale, cold, and motionless I saw him lie 
 
 Where the grim cypress waves its shadowy arms, 
 
 And hemlocks breathe their poison. The rank weeds 
 
 Grow at his very lips, and night dews dank 
 
 Fall on his lovely head : dazed with my grief 
 
 I left him thus, alone ! Come forth, ye nymphs. 
 
 And bear him gently where the breezes play. 
 
THE DEATH OF HYACINTH. 103 
 
 And fragrant buds and blossoms welcome spring. 
 Oh, Zephyrus ! hadst thou but known the love — 
 Closer than brother's love — that linked our souls, 
 Thou wouldst not thus on him have dared to 'wreak 
 Thy cruel jealousy, and make my hand 
 To be the instrument to slay my love ; 
 Nay, rather hadst thou blessed our lives. But thou 
 Art dead, fair Hyacinth ! No more thou'lt hurl 
 The shining quoit, nor swift of limb pursue 
 The roe : no more thy voice uplift in song, 
 'Mid boon companions 'neath the olive shades ; 
 The jealous god hath stilled thy rippling laugh ; 
 The glow of summer suns shall no more shine 
 Within thine eyes — eternal stillness rests 
 Upon thy glad young soul. And yet not so, 
 Zeus cannot take again the germ he gives 
 Of life, for Immortality remains 
 Though all things else fade out like Iris' bow. 
 The fair with all things fair shall blend ; thy locks 
 Shall tinge earth's starry cups with deeper gold. 
 
104 THE DEATH OF HYACINTH. 
 
 Thy pale cold lips shall kiss the dust, and life — 
 
 Young life — ^from death shall spring ; in budding vale 
 
 The bursting sod thy being shall renew, 
 
 Where sunlit ripples dance, or building birds 
 
 In song rejoice, there we thy presence still 
 
 Shall feel, shall, in the sunshine, see but thee. 
 
 Thy spirit blessing earth, and wave, and sky. 
 
 In vernal hours the leafy glade shall burst 
 
 In richer bloom, the meads and thickets team 
 
 With happier, merrier life, and all the woods 
 
 Be carpeted with blossoming bells — less blue 
 
 Than the blue depths of thy loved eyes — sweet bells 
 
 That scent the air and ring, ' Fair Hyacinth 
 
 Is here, he comes with each returning spring 
 
 To make the world rejoice.' The bending boughs 
 
 Shall tell it to the brooks ; the honey bees 
 
 Shall hum it to the flowers ; the streams shall bear 
 
 The glad news to the sea, where wavelets dance 
 
 And myriad smiles awake. And when at eve 
 
 The drooping bells ring faint, the listening heavens 
 
THE DEATH OF HYACINTH. 105 
 
 Through endless space shall echo that same song." 
 
 He ceased, and round him fairest nymphs appeared 
 
 With sorrowing mien, who at his call had come. 
 
 And o'er the shining wold and through the fields 
 
 I watched them go to where young Hyacinth 
 
 Rested so fair and beauteous e'en in death. 
 
 They laid him where the pale-lipped wind-flowers sway'd. 
 
 And 'mid the golden dafiFodils he loved ; 
 
 Then, slowly wending, sought their secret haunts 
 
 In mountain, spring, and tree. Meanwhile, with light 
 
 More glorious, shone the Sun-god on their way, 
 
 And glowing vapours danced around their feet, 
 
 Till they were lost afar in shining haze. 
 
 No more I saw the sorrowing throng, but heard 
 
 A whisper from the sky, " In life is death, 
 
 But death is life triumphant evermore." 
 
 And thro' the toiling days, the lonesome nights 
 Of earth, that whisper gives my heart content. 
 
LIFE. 
 
 I OW sweet to live, surely they err who cry 
 That men are born but to be tried and die, 
 That life is but a pilgrimage of cares 
 And all its pleasures self-deluding snares. 
 
 I fain would lift the veil round things to be 
 And know the secrets of eternity. 
 But I would meanwhile cull the myriad bloom 
 That sweetly scents our pathway to the tomb. 
 
 Why heedless pass the manifold delights 
 That daily greet us : rapturous sounds and sights 
 That should entrance our ears and charm our eyes 
 From earth and sea and glory-laden skies ? 
 
LIFE. 107 
 
 Why pine for some unknown transcendent light 
 Yet find no splendours in the day or night, 
 Pass 'neath the stars that cluster round the pole, 
 Nor feel their beauty sink into the soul ? 
 
 Again 'tis spring-time, hear ye not a voice 
 That sings melodiously "Rejoice, Rejoice;" 
 And whispers fruitful promises to earth 
 Whose ruddy fallows teem with emerald birth. 
 
 I live, oh sweet pulsation : and I breathe, 
 
 O air Divine ! What ecstasies enwreath 
 
 All souls of living things, what rapture thrUls 
 
 All hearts, when from their shrouds the snow-clad hills 
 
 Come forth, and ice-bound streams break forth in glee, 
 When gentle warmth is breathed o'er tilth and lea. 
 Fostering the infant shoots that coyly creep 
 From nooks where seedlings wake from winter sleep. 
 
 Who hath not watched the swelling buds unsheath 
 Their tender leaves, and in a verdant wreath 
 
io8 LIFE. 
 
 Enfold the rosy stem, which seeks to hide 
 From the strange eye of day, like blushing bride 
 
 Beneath her veil, and with each gentlest breath 
 Bends to and fro. Who broods on sin and death 
 When ferns uncurl their golden-crested fronds 
 From cool and mossy thrones like fairies' wands. 
 
 When the pale primrose gems the freshened glade 
 And violets' saffron eyes peep from the shade, 
 When elm-tops rock the cradle of the rooks 
 And speckled trout leap in the dimpling brooks. 
 
 The bleating lambs disport their wanton rounds 
 Amid the buttercups that star the mounds. 
 And downy nestlings chirp their tiny lay, 
 And feathered songsters pipe the live-long day. 
 
 How sweet to listen to the streamlet's purl, 
 In dingles where the alder stems unfurl 
 Their tasselled foliage to the waving breeze. 
 To hear the coo of ringdoves in the trees 
 
LIFE. 109 
 
 Hidden amidst the bowerage of the leaves, 
 That sprout from knotted oaks where ivy weaves 
 Over the crumbling bark a varied sheen 
 Of living lace-work wrought in tender green. 
 
 To let our thoughts be wafted here and there 
 Like aimless thistle down upon the air : 
 Joying to be, and with delicious sigh 
 In breathing life, forget that aught can die. 
 
 The zephyrs play soft tunes upon the reeds. 
 The willow catkins shed their golden seeds 
 Along the bank, and ox-eyed daisies throw 
 Their flakey petals on the brook below. 
 
 These imaged beauties of Spring's mirror bright 
 Steep all our tender souls in sweet delight. 
 But ah ! what full rich splendours overflow 
 The dazzled world in Summer's lavish glow. 
 
1 10 LIFE. 
 
 Intenser joy upon our spirit breaks, 
 Intenser sympathy of soul awakes, 
 All earth is carpeted with gorgeous flowers 
 And fullest foliage hides the woodland bowers. 
 
 Summer is here, and myriad joyous things 
 Wake to more beauteous life : their gauzy wings 
 Glance lightly to and fro with opal hues 
 Changeful as rainbow tints on early dews. 
 
 From morn till eve of all the long-lit days. 
 What choir of song bursts from the leafy maze, 
 The bees hum drowzily about the lime 
 Or warn our footsteps from the lowly thyme. 
 
 Hot brows are fanned by breezes from the west. 
 
 The mossy banks invite to cushioned rest, 
 
 Soft shadows beckon to the leafy nook 
 
 Where beechen boughs o'er-arch the shallow brook. 
 
 We stretch our limbs upon the yielding grass, 
 And watch the toying sunbeams softly pass 
 
LIFE. 1 1 1 
 
 O'er blue flowers opening wide their shining eyes, 
 To match the azure glory of the skies. 
 
 Where sooty-flowered sedges thickly grow, 
 The water-hen conceals her nest below, 
 And dainty dragon-fly in silent flight 
 Gleams for a moment, then is lost to sight. 
 
 And o'er the new-mown fields of scented hay 
 
 Is heard the voice of children at their play, 
 
 And from their romping groups, now here, now there, 
 
 A merry laugh comes ringing through the air. 
 
 The sleepy kine drink where the cool shades lie, 
 And round them dancing clouds of midges fly. 
 Across the stretch of varied fields we gaze 
 To where the hill-tops faint amid the haze. 
 
 We watch the shades of wandering cloudlets sweep 
 The wheat whereon the cornbind's tendrils creep. 
 Or view the placid ocean's wide expanse 
 Where diamond pointlets ceaseless gleam and glance. 
 
112 LIFE. 
 
 And hear the murmurings of the nearing night 
 When bronzfed beetles wing their drowsy flight. 
 And in the scented depths of summer grass 
 Soft hummings mourn that summer-time must pass. 
 
 Then sunset rays pour from their molten source 
 To tinge with deeper gold the vagrant gorse. 
 And paints the bracken's heavenward-pointing spire 
 'Mid thick entanglements of creeping briar. 
 
 Or from the West outbreaks a crimson flood, 
 And poppy petals stain the field like blood, 
 And restless aspen leaves that glimmered white, 
 Blush rosy 'neath the sun's last amorous light. 
 
 And unsung melodies float everywhere — 
 In quivering leaves and rills and moving air. 
 Earth's tremulous harp with countless golden strings 
 As touched by phantom fingers throbs and rings. 
 
 But as the weeks flit by in wingbd speed 
 A mellow glory bursts o'er hill and mead. 
 
LIFE. 113 
 
 The purpling berries shine amid the leaves, 
 And ripened corn is bound in rustling sheaves. 
 
 With autumn tints the woods are all aglow, 
 And autumn splendour fills the vales below ; 
 Masses of saffron gold and russet red 
 Like gorgeous mantles o'er the fields are spread. 
 
 And in their yellow folds the summer days 
 Have left a legacy of golden rays, 
 We wade through fallen leaves that thickly strew 
 The mossy sward where late the daisies grew. 
 
 How joyously the tillers of the soil 
 Reap the rich harvest of their care and toil, 
 With well-worn hook they stride beside the wain 
 That creaks beneath the weight of precious grain. 
 
 The startled pheasants rise with screech and whirr. 
 Then dash to thicker coverts 'neath the fir ; 
 And kingfishers shoot by like sapphire gleams. 
 Or brood on lichened posts beside the streams. 
 I 
 
114 LIFE. 
 
 And past the weedy banks, through bouldered ways, 
 With swish and swirl the eddying current plays, 
 Tossing in joy the broken twigs that fall 
 From thorny thickets where the ouzels call. 
 
 On burrowed banks the plaj^ful rabbit feeds, 
 'Neath brown-edged bracken lined with amber seeds, 
 Or frighted darts into his sandy maze 
 And then peers forth abroad with wary gaze. 
 
 And on the moor where undulating hills 
 Outstretch their heathery purple, blithesome trills 
 Gladden the wanderer's heart, as soaring high 
 The larks' exultant music fills the sky ; 
 
 We watch them rise and fall, the ceaseless song 
 Renewed now near, now far, the whole day long ; 
 What happy fancies and what dreams of love 
 With those sweet notes fall round us from above. 
 
 A changeful stir fills all the earth and sky, — 
 The fitful showers across the valley fly, 
 
LIFE. 115 
 
 And through the mists the glistening gleams outbreak 
 On freshened upland and on roughened lake. 
 
 And later when the hoar-frost decks with gems 
 The rigid furrows and the naked stems, 
 And by the wayside in a silent row 
 Rise ghost-like forms in winding-sheets of snow. 
 
 A diamond crust grows o'er the tiny blades 
 That fringe the grassy pathways through the glades. 
 Our pulses leap with life-joy as we tread 
 Where silvered branches glisten overhead. 
 
 We love the merry crackle 'neath our feet 
 Where myriad crystal lances cross and meet, 
 And 'mid a solemn silence that is heard, 
 What subtle pleasure in our heart is stirred. 
 
 And from the sun-touched trees that edge the copse, 
 We hear the patter of the falUng drops. 
 The flutter of the blackbird 'neath the hedge 
 Or distant call of moor-hen in the sedge. 
 
n6 LIFE. 
 
 The bright-eyed redbreast trills his short-lived lay 
 And o'er the snow-drift picks his silent way, 
 Where frost-nipped crimson berries bead the ground, 
 And acorn cuplets fall without a sound. 
 
 And when a warmer air or sunshine thaws 
 The wintry world, the noisy rooks and daws 
 Make merrier gossip in the swinging trees 
 And shed stray plumes of ebon down the breeze. 
 
 What beauty in the emerald isles that grow 
 Broader and broader in the sea of snow, 
 In pale-veined ivy whose festooning trails 
 O'er monumental trunks and crumbling rails. 
 
 The sombre yews against the grey old church, 
 The polished columns of the silver birch, 
 The bearded fir trees on the mountain side 
 With fang-like roots outstretching far and wide. 
 
 Throw off their veils to meet the balmier breeze 
 That whispers to the forest and the leas. 
 
LIFE. 117 
 
 The soothed billows cease their angry roar 
 And with repentant pleadings woo the shore. 
 
 Meanwhile the river in eternal flow 
 Proclaims with solemn voice, now loud, now low, 
 A voice that as the countless ages rolled 
 Its one unchanging message still has told. 
 
 That as the seasons in unfailing round 
 Pour each their gifts of beauty on the ground, 
 So each upon the heart that feels aright 
 Pours its own ecstasy of new delight. 
 
 When wandering in life's springtime through the grove, 
 The hearts that love us and the hearts we love 
 Put forth their buds of hope and tender flowers, 
 And with sweet fragrance fill the happy hours. 
 
 And 'mid the steadfast bliss of linked days 
 A fuller, richer gladness round us stays, 
 
ii8 LIFE. 
 
 As glows the summer sun and sings the bird 
 Love joys in warmer deed and kinder word. 
 
 And in our later years though joy and pain 
 May fleck our life like autumn sun and rain, 
 Love's mellow glory lights our waning days, 
 Its ripened fruits enrich our bending ways. 
 
 O Love ! beyond all treasures rich and rare ; 
 O Love ! beyond all beauties ever fair ; 
 Shining as shine the stars' eternal light 
 Into the utmost depths of sorrow's night. 
 
 Beneath thy melting rapture sadness flies 
 As sweep the gloomy mists from sunlit skies. 
 We know the rose must fade, the violet die, 
 We do not long to see them withered lie ? 
 
 To hear lost voices when the breezes blow. 
 To see lost faces in the sunset glow. 
 To hear lost laughter in the rippling streams, - 
 All this is comfortless as empty dreams. 
 
LIFE. 
 
 119 
 
 Ah no ! give me the beauteous breathing life 
 Give me the joys I know, though pain and strife 
 May mar some portion of our few short years ; 
 Life none the less I ask, despite its tears. 
 
DEAR. 
 
 EAR, draw my lips to thine in sweetest bliss. 
 Apart, they tremble only with the pain 
 Outshadowed from the future, if in vain 
 They crave the solace of thy loving kiss. 
 
 Dear, hold thy hands in mine, apart they lack 
 That which makes life all perfect. Let thy voice 
 Bid me to stay with thee, and so rejoice 
 That sunshine sweeps across life's shadowy track. 
 
 Dear, take my heart to thine, then shall it sing 
 Of love no words can mete. Apart, the sigh 
 Would rise for life half lived, for sunlit sky 
 That shines no more on joy's sweet blossoming. 
 
DEAR. 121 
 
 Dear ! look into mine eyes, as one who sees 
 Their happiest love-light burn for him alone. 
 When thou art near all discord is unknown 
 And life is tuned to sweetest harmonies. 
 
 Dear lips, dear hand, dear heart ! I need them all 
 That homeliest hours may lavish gifts divine. 
 And deathless blooms be showered on love's shrine, 
 And echoing music ever rise and fall. 
 
BY THE SALT SEA WAVES. 
 
 JH, come down to the shore, sister, the brown 
 sails are unfurled ; 
 I hear the merry voices of the busy fisher-world. 
 They hurry to and fro, and take the buoys and nets 
 
 aboard, 
 For all the folk are now astir who serve the herring-lord. 
 
 The yellow sunset floods the bay, the gentle breezes kiss 
 The little waves that rock the boats, and now on board, I 
 
 wis, 
 The sailor laddies watch to see the kerchiefs waving, 
 
 where, 
 Red houses nestle on the cliffs, above the rock-cut stair. 
 
BY THE SALT SEA WAVES. 123 
 
 Ohj haste, dear sister, I would bid my fisher-lad good- 
 bye, 
 
 And you, too, as of old, still love to see the winged boats 
 fly 
 
 Along their golden pathways, till they're lost in lustrous 
 haze. 
 
 E'en as you watched our father's boat in happy bygone 
 days. 
 
 And now we stand upon the rocks, we're not too late, for 
 
 there 
 Beside the mast, the dying sun lights up my sweetheart's 
 
 hair. 
 He waves his hand ! He throws a kiss ! Ah, sister, 'tis 
 
 for me, 
 ' He knows my prayers will follow him across the darkling 
 
 sea. 
 
 The saucy boats leap out, and now like joyous sea-birds 
 breast 
 
124 BY THE SALT SEA WAVES. 
 
 The calm and peaceful swell, and make towards the misty 
 
 west : 
 And now the voices fainter grow : and now dark sails dip 
 
 far, 
 Until like flecks of night they seem, where rises eve's pale 
 
 star. 
 
 Come, let us rest awhile. I love to feel the salt air blow 
 Across the weedy rocks, and watch the ebbing wavelets 
 
 throw 
 Soft spray upon the shore; to hear the distant splash 
 
 beside 
 The little pier, whose beams are worn by many a winter's 
 
 tide. 
 
 And as the twinkling lights shine out in cottage homes 
 
 above, 
 I think this world an Eden is, and God's name only 
 
 Love; 
 For all around is fair, and nought doth Speak of grief or 
 
 shame, 
 
BY THE SALT SEA WAVES. 125 
 
 And in my heart I softly breathe, " all hallowed be His 
 Name." 
 
 And oft at night my thoughts fly far, where on the silent 
 
 deep. 
 The fishing cobbles rock, and men their living harvest 
 
 reap, 
 Where shines the red light at the mast, tUl redder shines 
 
 the moon. 
 And sleepy waters round the sides sing on their soft, 
 
 low croon. 
 
 And silent e'en the skipper's voice, till in the fitful light 
 He sees a waving gleam draw near, and knows the shoal 
 
 in sight ; 
 And when the nets are struck, the quick, sharp "haul 
 
 away ! " is heard, 
 And all is life and bustle where before was ne'er a word. 
 
 And so full oft I picture them when you are fast asleep. 
 And in the early dawn, sister, my lonely watch I keep ; 
 
126 BY THE SALT SEA WAVES. 
 
 Till on the amber flood I see the laden boats come in, 
 And hear, methinks, one dear voice sound above the stir 
 and din. 
 
 I take my creel and go down too, to fill it with the rest, 
 And gaily chat the girls and I, as up the steps abreast 
 We climb; and when the fish are packed, and nets 
 
 spread out to dry. 
 And on the dimpling sands at last, the fishing-boats 
 
 drawn high, 
 
 With willing hands I toil, and list for footsteps on the 
 
 path. 
 And for a bright " Good mom, my lass," and merry 
 
 ringing laugh. 
 
 But when the herring-season's o'er — ah, sister, bend you 
 
 low — 
 He says that I must be his wife, for that he loves me so. 
 
 I know you'll miss me, sister mine, but when the week is 
 done. 
 
BY THE SALT SEA WAVES. 127 
 
 We three will walk together where the little path doth run 
 Over the cliffs, unto the dear old churchyard by the sea, 
 Where father and where mother lie — you have been both 
 to me. 
 
 And when the village lies so still on slumberous after- 
 noons. 
 
 You'll bring your work and sit with us, and sing the 
 well-known tunes. 
 
 While I shall mend the nets : and we no other bliss shall 
 crave, 
 
 Than you and I and Charlie know beside the salt sea 
 wave. 
 
 But see, the thickening mists have spread, no stars light 
 
 up the sky, 
 And round the cliffs with eerie screech the stormy 
 
 petrels fly. 
 We'll trim our lamp to-night, sister, to light our window 
 
 frame ; 
 
128 BY THE SALT SEA WAVES. 
 
 Perchance 'twill guide some laddie to his mother's home 
 again. 
 
 MORNING. 
 
 Oh, sister, wildly blows the gale, but morn at last is here, 
 And listen to the angry waves that lash the rocks and 
 
 pier. 
 The long, low shore is lined with foam and dark with 
 
 driven wrack, 
 I strain mine eyes across the waste — the fishers are not 
 
 back. 
 
 All night the storm-wind whistled loud around our 
 
 cottage eaves, 
 And at each sudden squall there fell the sodden, dying 
 
 leaves. 
 I could not sleep for thinking of my lad upon the sea. 
 My heart was full, I could but pray, " Oh, send him back 
 
 to me." 
 
BY THE SALT SEA WAVES. 129 
 
 I see afar the foaming waves against the inky sky, 
 And hear the North Wind shrieking as their crests before 
 him fly ; 
 
 And to the shore the mothers haste, and sires with feeble 
 
 gait 
 Go there. " God help the boats," they cry, and bid the 
 
 younger wait 
 
 Within their homes. Yet well they know that it is 
 
 harde far. 
 To wait beside the hearth-stone, than to watch the 
 
 raging bar. 
 And now I see some tossing masts, and now they're lost 
 
 once more 
 Amid the seething heights that rush so madly to the 
 
 shore. 
 
 Good-bye, dear sister, I must stand amid the throng 
 below. 
 
 Where you and I but last night watched the fishing- 
 cobbles go. 
 
 K 
 
130 BY THE SALT SEA WAVES. 
 
 For I would be the first to clasp on shore one well-loved 
 
 hand: 
 Mayhap I, too, can pull a rope to help the boats to land. 
 
 * * * * * 
 
 And now the tossing boats come near, and anxious 
 
 hearts beat fast, 
 As still more furious lash the waves, and fiercer howls 
 
 the blast. 
 "Ah, see, one boat is overturned! No, no! she rights 
 
 again," 
 And with her clinging men she's shot athwart the boiling 
 
 main. 
 
 Now in the abyss, now on the heights of mighty waves, 
 
 till near 
 The shore she's driven, and ropes are thrown, and hearty 
 
 voices cheer. 
 Then silence — savefor sobbings, as a mother greets her boy. 
 Or wives round husbands cling. Ay grief is near akin 
 
 to joy. 
 
BY THE SALT SEA WAVES. 131 
 
 Another and another boat comes safe at last to land, 
 But who amid the happy group doth see one watcher 
 
 stand 
 With white, despairing face, and set, as though the 
 
 storm had chilled 
 Her very life blood, and her heart with deathly horror 
 
 filled. 
 
 His boat is there ! She's dreaming not. Yes ! on the 
 
 shore it lies — 
 The " Dark Girl," battered, mastless, yet safe before her 
 
 eyes. 
 But where is he, her fisher-lad, who should be by her 
 
 side? 
 Oh, surely he will come to her, to her his promised bride. 
 
 He must be hidden 'midst the crowd, he has not seen her 
 
 there. 
 And with her hands, all wet and cold, she parts her 
 
 streaming hair, 
 
132 BY THE SALT SEA WAVES. 
 
 And moves towards the questioning folk who've round 
 
 the skipper met. 
 " Yes, Charlie ! He has gone, poor lad, 'twas when the 
 
 boat upset. 
 
 " She righted, but he was not there. He has no mother ? 
 
 Ay, 
 
 'Tis for the best ; 'tis hard to know our children ta'en 
 
 away." 
 None noticed her who listened near, then climbed the 
 
 rock-cut stair 
 To where the little cottage stood, to sink in still despair 
 
 Upon the humble doorstep. Then, her soul filled with 
 
 alarms, 
 A sister bids her sob out all her misery in her arms. 
 She, moaning faintly, raised her eyes with mute appeal 
 
 above. 
 And murmured, " Only yester eve I said His name was 
 
 Love." 
 
BY THE SALT SEA WAVES. 133 
 
 From morn to morn with restless feet she paced the 
 
 shingly strand, 
 And watched the floats and broken nets the long waves 
 
 washed to land. 
 With brain distraught and babbling tongue, she would 
 
 not leave the shore, 
 " I wait for him," she cried, " I know the fishing season's 
 
 o'er, 
 
 " And he will come to claim me soon, and I must make 
 
 me fair." 
 So she cuU'd the shining sea-weed and wreathed it in her 
 
 hair. 
 And gathered shells, and listened for the messages -they 
 
 told, 
 And wandered, singing happily, to where a headland 
 
 bold 
 
 Did jut into the waves ; and 'neath its bare and wave- 
 
 splash'd walls 
 A little sunny inlet hid, where soft the footstep falls. 
 
134 BY THE SALT SEA WAVES. 
 
 And there upon the sand he lay as if in happy sleep, 
 His matted curls all gleaming with the salt tears of the 
 deep. 
 
 She did not weep, but gently knelt beside the quiet dead, 
 And, smiling tenderly, she laid her hand upon his head : 
 Then kissed him softly, whispering, "My love, I'm by 
 
 your side, 
 The fishing season's gone, I know you've come to claim 
 
 your bride." 
 
 And where a new-made mound is bright with growing 
 
 grass and flower, 
 The sisters wander often at the mellow sunset hour : 
 But she, the love-lorn, asks not why, but in a low voice 
 
 craves 
 To watch the herring boats go out, beside the salt sea 
 
 waves. 
 
A FARM IDYL. 
 
 |HE was a maiden rosy — bright as any summer 
 posy, 
 
 He was nothing but a plough-boy rough and strong — 
 But he loved to walk beside her, where the drooping 
 boughs could hide her. 
 And the daffodils kept nodding aU day long ! 
 
 No Queen he thought was fairer — no grace was ever 
 rarer. 
 As she carried her bright pail and milking-stool, 
 But ah! he could not utter what he thought, but only 
 stutter. 
 And the daffodils kept nodding " He's a fool ! " 
 
 One day as he was sitting close to Molly busy knitting, 
 She dropped a stitch just in the stocking-heel. 
 
136 A FARM IDYL. 
 
 He blurted out, " A lover should that lost stitch recover ! " 
 And the daffodils kept nodding " He should kneel." 
 
 But in his clumsy fingers, the needle stiffly lingers. 
 
 Till Molly, all impatient of delay, 
 Said "If you really are my lover, why do you not 
 discover, 
 
 That I mean far more than any girl can say." 
 
 He laid the knitting lightly on the settle shining brightly. 
 
 As he looked into the pretty hazel eyes. 
 And he sighed "If you do love me, don't speak, but 
 gently shove me." 
 
 And the daffodils kept nodding in surprise. 
 
 So red as any clover, she got closer to her lover, 
 And looked into the embers burning low. 
 
 And her blushes said "I'd miss ye, Johnny dear, why 
 don't you kiss me ? " 
 And the daffodils they nodded " Ay, just so ! " 
 
ENGLAND'S JUNE. 
 
 ENDER leaflets, tender blossoms, 
 Tender sunshine everywhere ; 
 Tender white of wandering cloudlets 
 
 Gleaniing in the azure air. 
 Wealth of beauty, red-rose garlands 
 
 Hanging 'twixt the earth and sky — 
 Wealth of blue eyes mid the rushes 
 Where the cool stream singeth by. 
 
 Joyous choir of feathered songsters. 
 Joyous insects on the wing — 
 
 Joyous music in the woodlands 
 Where the merry crickets sing. 
 
138 ENGLAND'S JUNE. 
 
 Happy voices, children tossing 
 Fresh-mown hay upon the air ; — 
 
 Bean-fields rich in scented blossom, 
 Gaily-painted wealth of tare. 
 
 Myriad tiny fruit-hearts swelling, — 
 
 Promise-laden orchard trees ; 
 Myriad vagrant gorse-blooms dropping 
 
 Showers of gold on stretching leas. 
 Countless branches, green sap springing, 
 
 Ceaseless growth of shoot and flower — 
 Countless grass-plumes richly scatt'ring 
 
 Winged seedlets every hour. 
 
 Shade of lime trees, tasselled blossoms. 
 Perfume as of incense rare — 
 
 Busy bees the honey seeking, 
 Softly droning here and there. 
 
 Cushioned turf, young mosses springing. 
 Dark-leaved brambles arching round — 
 
ENGLAND'S JUNE. 139 
 
 Peeps of blue sky thro' green curtains^^:- 
 Is this not love's hallowed ground ? 
 
 Happy laughter, loving touches, 
 
 Music of two beating hearts — 
 Pretty whisperings — coy responses — 
 
 Joy approaching, doubt departs. 
 Wealth of colour, wealth of beauty. 
 
 Wealth of promise ! hearts attune ! 
 Tender hopes, and love's sweet madness, 
 
 Such thy joys, O tender June. 
 
UGOLINO. 
 
 " Ahi Pisa, virtuperio delle genti ! " 
 
 DUNGEON dank and cold, where mossy 
 slime 
 
 Befouls the weeping stones, and in the gloom 
 Imprisoned souls forget the rounds of time, 
 ! Themselves forgot within their living tomb. 
 
 Through narrow eyelets in the walls o'erhead 
 The timorous sunbeam scarely dares to play 
 'Mid rusted bars ; and Day and Dark are wed 
 Within that cell, where youthful hair turns grey. 
 
 And there four human forms are crouching, worn 
 And hollow-eyed, and each to each doth cling 
 
UGOLINO. 141 
 
 From cold, and passionate dread lest they be torn 
 Apart — the only woe fate yet can bring. 
 
 Faint as a dying voice a distant hum 
 Steals from the world without. Far-echoed noise 
 And tramp of struggling life doth fitful come 
 And go. Without are myriad pains and joys 
 
 Of those who move unfettered in the world, 
 
 Of those who banquet, and of those who fight ; 
 
 Kings made and fall'n, thrones raised and downward 
 
 hurled : 
 Within, one weary blank of changeless night. 
 
 For sire and manly sons, and infants twain. 
 Racked with the pangs of hunger and of thirst, 
 From mom till eve, from eve till morn again 
 Together lie. But yet not all accurst 
 
 Their fate, if they but knew the crueller pain 
 Some souls are called to bear, when in doom's hour 
 
142 UGOLINO. 
 
 No stronger will the weaker doth sustain 
 Or nerve him to resist grief's crushing power. 
 
 As hour drags after hour with leaden pace, 
 The father draws with anguish to his breast 
 His youngest boy, kissing the wasted face 
 That like a rosebud once on down did rest. 
 
 He feebly grasps the cup, wherein are yet 
 The last remaining drops that none will take, 
 And with his bony fingers seeks to wet 
 Those pale and withered lips that oft did make 
 
 Sweet prattle on his knee ; he smooths the hair 
 Whose sunny rings are clammy with the dews 
 Of death : " My child, sleep on ; would I could bear 
 For thee the pain each waking hour renews. 
 
 " Would I could soothe thee to thy lasting rest, 
 For oh ! I could not call thee back to hear 
 Thee cry to he upon thy mother's breast. 
 Nor in thy dark eyes see the pleading tear. 
 
UGOLINO. 143 
 
 I 
 " No sword could pierce like thy reproachful look 
 
 When thou dost cry in bitterness to me 
 
 That ' Mother gave thee food and drink, and took 
 
 Thy tired head to rest upon her knee.' 
 
 " Almighty God, I pray that he may sleep ; 
 I pray that never more he may awake ; 
 What hath he sowed, my baby boy, to reap 
 Such bitter suffering ? For her dear sake 
 
 " Who gave him life, like to the mounting lark 
 Let his young soul now wing its upward flight 
 To Paradise. Oh take the flickering spark 
 To shine in brighter worlds with purer light. 
 
 " Ah me ! what frenzied words send I above ? 
 What if his mother heard me as I cry. 
 That he, who late within the tender love 
 Of her sweet arms lay cradled, thus should die ! 
 
 " No ! No ! I cannot plead for that ! Oh give 
 Him life and liberty, e'en though I share 
 
144 UGOLINO. 
 
 Them not with him ; e'en though I may not Uve 
 To see her face beside which none is fair. 
 
 " He sleeps ! perchance he sleeps for aye ! No more 
 His childish lips shall give their sweet caress ; 
 No more shall he at eve come bounding o'er 
 The threshold of our home, mine eyes to bless. 
 
 " No more his loved voice ring with bUthesome tone 
 That tuned our hearts to joy. Father on high, 
 My mad brain reels. Ah ! leave me not alone 
 In this mine hour of deepest agony. 
 
 " Thy mercy crowns my prayer. The prison walls 
 Grow dim ; blest visions float before mine eyes 
 Of wife and home, and on my spirit falls 
 Strange peace as from the past those mem'ries rise. 
 
 " Nay, vex me not, ye doubting thoughts, I know 
 These are no fancies of a frenzied brain ; 
 I hear the music of the streamlet's flow. 
 And bend me o'er the dimpled pool again 
 
UGOLINO. 145 
 
 " Where oft-times she and I would fondly dream 
 O'er hope's fair vistas opening far and wide, 
 Of lives long wedded in one peaceful stream, 
 Nearing the great Hereafter's boundless tide. 
 
 " Yes ! lives are like the springs that upward flow 
 Through golden sands that lightly dance and play ; 
 We know not whence they come, nor whither go. 
 We can but follow on their changeful way. 
 
 " Follow with eager hearts and burning feet, 
 By rocky glen and wealth of fertile meads ; 
 By leafy dell, where youth and maiden meet ; 
 By busy towns, that teem with human needs. 
 
 " On with the swelling floods that mightier grow. 
 Then leap into the unknown sea afar. 
 To sink for ever in its ceaseless flow. 
 Lost, as from heaven's floor the fallen star. 
 
 " Ah ! welcome is the sound of that vast sea, 
 Beating its waves on the eternal shore, 
 
 L 
 
146 UGOLINO. 
 
 Which fast I near and near. But list, to me 
 Reproachful voices rise above its roar ! 
 
 " ' What hast thou done with thy brief life, O soul, 
 Granted to thee with all its powers for good ? 
 Hast thou striven upwards to the glowing pole. 
 Or crept amid the baser multitude ? 
 
 " ' Know that the streamlet filtering through the sand. 
 
 Shallow and traceless, soon shall be forgot ; 
 
 The torrent that inchannels deep the land 
 
 Shall echoing sound. Which, then, thy chosen lot ? ' 
 
 " Cease ! cease ! ye voices, with your mocking taunt. 
 Brief life for me is o'er ; I hear the sighs 
 Of dear ones dying round ; why will ye flaunt 
 Ambition's sins before my pain-racked eyes. 
 
 " But see what vision breaks upon my sight. 
 With loving arms outstretched ! Yes ! yes ! sweet wife. 
 Once more we meet, and love's undying light 
 Shall throw its halo round my parting life. 
 
UGOLINO. 147 
 
 " No vain illusion this, to fade in gloom : 
 Thou'rt come to fold us in thy restful arms, 
 And press fond kisses on our lips ; the tomb 
 Has now no fear for us, no dread alarms — 
 
 " We joy to pass its portals dark with thee 
 Beloved wife ! Why is thy gaze thus sad ; 
 Why dost thou still elude my grasp ? Ah me ! 
 The vision fades ! Oh God ! I'm mad ! I'm mad ! " 
 
 # # # # « 
 
 And now the dawn steals forth with kindly light, 
 And brings to men their varied joys and cares ; 
 The earth is smiling through the tears of night. 
 And trembling bell-flowers chime their matin airs. 
 
 Bright Day out-trails her ruddy locks, and leaves 
 Her golden prints where groves of citrons smile ; 
 Then, gliding through the dim cathedral, weaves 
 Thin films of light athwart the sacred aisle. 
 
 She touches with her flaming finger tips 
 The marble statues, till with life they glow, 
 
148 UGOLINO. 
 
 And passing on doth kiss the children's lips 
 And wake them with her laughter rippling low. 
 
 She creeps around the old grey tower, and peers 
 Into the dungeon's gloomy depths, to see 
 The accustomed fall of ineffectual tears. 
 And hear the unheeded cries of misery. 
 
 But when she sees what lies within the cell 
 Hot tears upwelling dim her shining eye. 
 And like an echo of the passing bell 
 She breathes upon the air a long-drawn sigh. 
 
 A sigh for childhood's happy promisings, 
 
 A sigh for youthful strength snapped in its prime, 
 
 A sigh for manhood's high imaginings. 
 
 All vanished to the fruitless past of time. 
 
 For there in stiffened clasp the captives cling 
 Each unto each, in death e'en as in life ; 
 But peace eternal on her azure wing 
 Has borne their souls beyond all pain and strife. 
 
NIOBE. 
 
 FANE majestic, stately, in whose courts 
 The lute-led hymn of praise resounding rose 
 And silent prayers were breathed. The marble walls 
 And many-fluted columns glistened white 
 As virgin snow, save where the orient sun 
 With heavenly alchemy traced frets of gold, 
 Or where an azure shade was resting soft 
 As shed by angel's wing. In massive grace 
 The architraves that stretched from pier to pier 
 Upheld a roof whereof the perfect lines 
 Led on the eye till lost in shadowy space. 
 And, pure and beauteous as the heavenly shapes 
 Sculptured in Parian stone, were ranged a band 
 Of virgin priestesses, on holy rites 
 
150 NIOBE. 
 
 And choric chant intent. Their flowing robes 
 Of purest white, weighed down with Phrygian gold, 
 Betrayed the symmetry of rounded limbs ; 
 And softly-moulded arms and sandalled feet 
 Gleamed pearl against the white. Meanwhile around 
 The voiceless multitude that filled the court. 
 Moved by one mystic impulse, swayed and surged, 
 Straining all eyes and ears in wonderment 
 AVaiting some revelation. 
 
 For at eve. 
 When all the rush of busy life was stayed 
 And open doors and loving outstretched arms 
 Gave welcome to the toilers, swiftly passed 
 Through groups that loitered in the Theban streets 
 Manto the prophetess. In ringing tones, 
 That heralded possession of some god. 
 She cried : " O progeny of Cadmus, hear ! 
 For 'tis not I, but Leto, who commands. 
 That special pomp and sacrifice be done 
 
NIOBE. 151 
 
 To her, and those twin gods that come of her, 
 Long-locked Apollo of the silver bow, 
 And Artemis, the shield of chastity. 
 Haste then toward the temple at the hour 
 When Eos draws with rosy fingers back 
 The curtains of the day." 
 
 The worshippers 
 Came thronging to the shrine in festal robes. 
 And priests and priestesses with boughs of bay. 
 Alternate rose and fell the measured chant 
 Holding enchained with some strange influence 
 All lawless passions, all mean thoughts, till faith 
 Ennobled, purer, soared afar and reached 
 The confines of immortal blessedness. 
 And high the clouds of incense eddying rolled 
 Veiling in fragrant mist the forms of them 
 That stood upon the sacred altar-steps ; 
 When on a sudden, while the uplifted soul 
 Waited some present glory from the gods. 
 
152 NIOBE. 
 
 Came Niobe, the consort of their king, 
 
 With royal indignation on her brow, 
 
 And through the breaking crowd moved stately on, 
 
 Her maidens following. 
 
 The adoring hymn 
 Faltered, and sank and died. In hushed amaze 
 Priesthood and people stood, as tall and proud 
 Upon the middle altar-step she faced 
 The multitude alone. Like some rare gem 
 That concentrates all lustre in itself, 
 Yet flashes beams of dazzling light around, 
 So shone she in transcendent loveliness 
 Of womanhood mature. Her oval brow 
 Was circled with a crown of purest gold. 
 Her auburn tresses glowed in shimmering waves 
 Through a transparent veil, and full and white 
 Her neck like polished marble shone beneath. 
 Her broidered robe blazed with inwoven gems 
 And Tyrian dyes. Divinely fair, she seemed 
 
NIOBE. 153 
 
 Like Hera's self revealed in human shape. 
 And thus in clear far-reaching tones she spake : 
 "My people, all;-though most within your hearts, 
 Ye mothers of fair children, these my words 
 Shall find acceptance — for ye too have known 
 The pangs and bHss of motherhood : the touch 
 Of baby hands, the infant's cry, have stirred 
 A passion in your souls before unwaked. 
 And as the life you gave, dearer than self. 
 Unfolds in riper years, do not your hearts 
 Beat with responsive throbs, as fierce zeal burns 
 In the young breast to win a country's love ? 
 Gleam not, through all the dim uncertainties 
 Of years to come^some visions glorious 
 Of power and hard-earned fame and victor's wreaths 
 Crowning the brow which once had resting-place 
 Within your arms ? For in our children's lives 
 May not our best selves live again, more great, 
 More noble, grasping all that we have missed, 
 Doing the good we fain ourselves had done ? 
 
154 NIOBE. 
 
 And through the tangled web of each day's cares 
 
 Still run those all-enduring golden threads 
 
 Of hope and pride. What if our country claim 
 
 Our dearest for a saving sacrifice ? 
 
 Is not her honour ours, and she most rich 
 
 Who hath the most to give ? 
 
 And have not I 
 Seven sons and seven fair daughters, noblest crown 
 Of life ? Let songs of praise resound for me. 
 And not for Leto, mother of but twain. 
 Let sacrificial pomp and holy rites 
 Be done for Niobe ! 'Tis I deserve 
 Your laurel wreaths, I, victor over all. 
 Supreme in glorious motherhood." 
 
 She ceased, 
 And for a moment's space deep silence reigned. 
 And then the pent-up sympathy burst forth 
 And made the temple ring with " Niobe ! " 
 She, passing forth, sought once again the halls 
 
NIOBE. 155 
 
 Of the Cadmeum. 
 
 Blistering rays of noon 
 Glared on the earth, that quivered 'neath their gaze, 
 Its russet hues athirst : the pulsing life 
 In shrub and flower was stayed : from dark-group'd firs 
 Whose tapering heads flouted the brazen sky. 
 The sapless spikelets fell, clothing the ground 
 With golden carpeting. 
 
 All Nature slept. 
 Save where the hum of insects came and went 
 Like changing cadences of elfland songs. 
 
 But hark, what sudden clamour ! 
 
 Yonder see ! 
 Where lichened rocks stand out like sentinels 
 Guarding a rugged pass, the frenzied boar 
 Bursts forth, his white tusks gleaming in the sun. 
 His red eyes blazing 'neath his shaggy hair, 
 And swift Molossians after : shouts arise. 
 
156 NIOBE. 
 
 And spears are held aloft and steeds urged on 
 To utmost speed. Who knows not what the wild 
 Excitement of the chase, when the swift rush 
 Through the brisk air, the courser's bounding flight, 
 Madden the pulse and lure to hardy feats 
 In calmer hours undared ! Nor did they heed, 
 -Their eyes all fixed upon the nearing prey, — 
 That, hindmost of th6 field, too rashly spurred, 
 Young Damjasichthon's steed o'er-trod the edge. 
 That breaking 'neath his feet sent man and horse 
 Rolling and crashing down the precipice. 
 And there, without a mother's lips to kiss 
 The paling brow, without her arms to cling 
 Around her loved one in a fierce d^air. 
 Ebbed his young life in loneliness away. 
 On, onward rush pursuer and pursued. 
 And clattering hoofs and baying hounds sweep by. 
 First in the chase, as in all rivalries, 
 Swift as a storm, three sons of Niobe, 
 Alphenor, Tantalus, and Ilioneus, 
 
NIOBE. 157 
 
 Pressed hard upon the boar, who, almost spent. 
 Fled like black scud before the driving blast, 
 Nor saw the black abyss that sudden yawned 
 Across his path : — In 'mid-air o'er the gorge 
 Was shot the quivering mass, then downward hurled 
 Into the boiling depths. 
 
 Those foremost three 
 Gripped desperate the reins : for one swift beat 
 Was seen a flash of steel, and forms confused, 
 And then a deadened cry and thud were heard. 
 Followed by silence, awe-full. 
 
 But not they 
 Alone were seized by doom inexorable, 
 For, where the plain spreads round those city walls 
 Raised by the god-given magic of his lyre, 
 Amphion waited, umpire of the race 
 Proclaimed that day for all the youth of Thebes. 
 The compeers mounted their emblazoned cars : 
 The sun-glints danced upon the wheels of bronze 
 
158 NIOBE. 
 
 And silver rails ; and golden-frontleted 
 
 The snorting steeds impatient reared and strained 
 
 Upon the ivoried reins, — then forward flew 
 
 In swift career, like greyhounds from the leash. 
 
 Thrice swept they round the oval course of sand ; 
 
 The fourth time and the last, when near the goal 
 
 Three foremost cars disputed inch by inch 
 
 The ground that flew beneath them, and the wheels 
 
 Glowed on their burning axles, Metrocles, 
 
 The outermost, drew on the inner rein 
 
 Eager to round the post. Whereon befell 
 
 A crash of wheels confused, a struggling heap 
 
 Of steeds and charioteers, and stiffled cries 
 
 That fainter grew and fainter, till they ceased 
 
 In groans — then deathly stillness. 
 
 And one there, 
 Amphion, he whose eyes but now had shone 
 With pride to know his sons so far excel 
 The Theban chivalry, felt all his heart 
 Grow cold and dull as lead, then sudden fell 
 
NIOBE, 159 
 
 Lifeless, as some grand patriarchal tree 
 Scathed by the fire of heaven. 
 
 What tongue shall bear 
 The tidings to the Queen ? 
 
 Ah daresome soul ! 
 That think'st to vie with the Omnipotents 
 In honours more than mortal ; know, all life 
 Exists but by their will, each quickening germ 
 Floats where 'tis guided through the silent air : 
 The rising sap but seeks a course ordained : 
 The vaporous clouds that silent form, descend 
 To bless the thirsty earth, or swept by blasts 
 Are whirled, and ope their inky depths to hurl 
 The levin-brand, whose path is marked by death 
 And desolation irresistible. 
 
 The shadow of brooding grief hangs like a pall : 
 
 The mourners smite their breasts, and rend their robes, 
 
i6o NIOBE. 
 
 And long, slovTsobbingliirges swell and die 
 
 Through the Cadmeum's halls. Hardening her heart, 
 
 Or numbed in stupefaction of her pain, 
 
 Proud Niobe along the marble floor 
 
 Still paces to and fro, her tearless eyes. 
 
 Grey as the orbs of Pallas, fixed and cold 
 
 Beneath their heavy lids, her hands tight clenched, 
 
 Her quivering lips held firm by high disdain, 
 
 Though in her heart raged tumults of despair : 
 
 " Never again to listen for the tread 
 
 Of manly steps that hasten to her side ! 
 
 Never again to watch the kindling eye 
 
 And cheeks aflame at well-earned words of praise. 
 
 That fire the brave to feats of chivalry. 
 
 Only the life-long fretting of her pain, 
 
 Only the hopeless blank that fills a soul 
 
 Forlorn upon a tideless sea, enringed 
 
 By one dark drear horizon of despair." 
 
 Yet, o'er her heart's rebellious impotence. 
 
NIOBE. 161 
 
 Like some swift gleam of sunset shot athwart 
 
 A bank of darkening clouds, new comfort soon^ 
 
 Dawned in the memory of her gentler hopes, 
 
 Her seven fair daughters : for if now no more 
 
 In manly strength, yet in their maiden grace 
 
 She still would shine peerless 'mid all who boast. 
 
 On earth or in Olympus, to have borne 
 
 A noble progeny to God or man. 
 
 Thus warmed by happier thoughts her pale brow glowed. 
 
 And once again the faltering step grew firm. 
 
 But see, what form, all trembling as a dove 
 
 Just 'scaped the hawk's cruel talons, or as one 
 
 Pursued by some dread phantom of the tomb. 
 
 Speeds breathless through the doors, and frantic clings 
 
 As suppliant at the shrine of sanctuary 
 
 To Niobe, on whom a nameless dread 
 
 Of some mysterious impending doom 
 
 Falls like the hand of Death ! Her youngest child, 
 
 For she it was, thrice ope'd her pallid lips, 
 
 M 
 
162 NIOBE, 
 
 Thrice closed them voiceless : then in broken gasps : 
 
 " Mother, alone I fly to thee, alone 
 
 To thee am left. My sisters all are slain 
 
 By some dire visitation of the Gods. 
 
 As wearied and forspent with endless grief 
 
 And lamentations for our brothers slain 
 
 We breathed the court's pure air, while one would cry 
 
 Upon that brother whom she most did love, 
 
 Ismenus, Damasichthon, Patrocles, 
 
 And yet another on another's name, 
 
 Sudden our eldest, tall Charmione, 
 
 Pressed on her heart her trembling hands, and cried, 
 
 ' I faint, I fall, there flashes through my ken 
 
 A vision of a goddess, on whose brow 
 
 Sit anger and revenge ; — she draws her bow, 
 
 Till meet its golden tips ; and stretched athwart 
 
 A fiery shaft points hitherward, and lo ! 
 
 I faint, I die.' Thus one by one they fell 
 
 Ere in their panic flight their trembling limbs 
 
 Could bear them to the refuge of thine arms ; 
 
NIOBE. 163 
 
 And twain e'en on the palace steps lie dead. 
 I, I alone, have sped my way to thee, 
 Their moans, their long-drawn sighs of ebbing life 
 Yet sounding in mine ear. O, mother, save 
 Me, me, your only child." 
 
 A moment passed 
 And Niqbe was still, though years of pain 
 Were gathered in that moment, — then a wail, 
 Piteous and long, hushed all the clamorous grief 
 Of crowds fast pouring through the doors. Firm-locked 
 Within her arms the stricken mother clasped 
 Her child, and gazing heavenwards cried aloud, 
 " Ye Gods, in mercy leave her, leave this one, 
 My last lone hope, my gentlest, latest born. 
 So fair that e'en the passing zephyr's breath 
 Was all too rough to fan her tender cheek. 
 Oh, leave this one bright ray to beam amidst 
 My endless night, this one last link to bind 
 My soul to joy of life, my stubborn will 
 To worship of the Powers who from' their heights 
 
i64 NIOBE. 
 
 Compel the homage that we grudging pay. 
 
 Is not my pride laid low unto the dust ? 
 
 In self-abasement yield I all. My power, 
 
 My wealth, my boasted fame, I humbly give. 
 
 Uncircumscribed your sway,o'er blazing orbs 
 
 Innumerable, that wander at your will 
 
 Beyond all ken. Let not your vengeful ire 
 
 Be hurled to crush one floweret yet in bud. 
 
 Nay, rather sun her in your gracious smiles 
 
 To full perfection of sweet loveliness. 
 
 What need the gray Elysian fields this one 
 
 Half-opened flower, where myriad fragrant blooms 
 
 Bedeck the spangled mead ? What need have crowns 
 
 Immortal of one earthly gem ? Oh stay 
 
 Thy thunderbolt of death : grant me this life. 
 
 This one sweet unoffending life. My child ! 
 
 Ye gods, oh spare her ! spare my child ! " 
 
 She ceased : 
 E'en as she ceased the clinging arms unloosed ; 
 The trembling form grew cold ; the sad eyes gazed 
 
NIOBE. 165 
 
 Beseechingly, as gaze the dying fawn's, 
 
 Then closed to ope amid the elysian shades 
 
 And in the blest abode of pure-lived souls 
 
 Beyond the gloom of Styx. 
 
 Then prostrate fell 
 
 The stricken Queen, and for brief space the gods 
 
 In mercy gave oblivion. Who then 
 
 May dare to raise the veil that covers grief 
 
 Like hers ? 
 
 Dawn in its waking splendour crowns 
 
 The rested earth : the fleecy clouds unroll 
 
 Where mighty peaks climb snow-capped to the sky 
 
 And pierce the veil of opal mist to woo 
 
 Aurora's golden kiss. In nebulous depths 
 
 Of wild ravines boulders and trees loom strange 
 
 Like shifting phantom-shapes men see in dreams. 
 
 But from their midst, towering in majesty 
 
 And wreathed about with strands of mist, one rock 
 
i66 NIOBE. 
 
 Shews like a human fonn beneath a veil, 
 
 That, not concealing, lends it awe ; and down 
 
 Its grey unchanging face rain ceaselessly 
 
 Pure lustrous drops like tears of penitence. 
 
 And gazing on the mystery of that rock 
 
 The soul is filled with undefined woe 
 
 And sympathy, and from the shadowy past 
 
 Rise memories of that all-transcendent grief 
 
 Of Niobe, proud Queen of Cadmus' realm. 
 
 Who, crowned with peerless wealth of children, dared 
 
 Vainglorious to match herself with gods, — 
 
 Witless that heavenly favour did but lend 
 
 That lustre to her diadem. And when. 
 
 Their vengeance sated, all alone she stood, 
 
 Bereft of husband, daughters, sons, of all 
 
 That made life dear, her very heart's blood froze 
 
 Within her veins, her labouring pulses slowed 
 
 Until they ceased to beat, the nerveless frame 
 
 In adamantine numbness changed to stone, 
 
 Then by a whirlwind lifted through the air 
 
NIOBE. 167 
 
 To mountain solitudes afar was borne. 
 
 And such the legend of the Weeping Rock 
 That stands in Sipylus. 
 
THE THREE GUESTS. 
 
 ALE Sorrow was a guest with me, 
 And lay upon my breast, 
 I had no power to say her nay, 
 And yet, I longed for rest. 
 
 Her swimming eyes were soft and deep 
 
 As blue sky at the noon, 
 I said, " Why did you haste to me, 
 
 Pale Sorrow, oh, so soon ? " 
 
 " To those I love full soon I come," 
 She said, " I shall not stay, 
 
 E'en now to you is hastening 
 Another on her way. 
 
THE THREE GUESTS. 169 
 
 " Who will for ever linger near 
 
 And heal in tenderness, 
 The aching wounds which I must give, — 
 
 Their pain I can but guess. 
 
 " Her name is Peace and she doth hold, 
 
 A sister by the hand, 
 Who'll guide thy feet unerringly 
 
 Unto the deathless land." 
 
 " Good bye, pale Sorrow ! I will take 
 
 Sweet Peace unto my breast. 
 And unto those fair Sisters' arms 
 
 Will turn for perfect rest." 
 
 So Sorrow passed onwards ; 
 
 And I loved those Sisters twain, 
 For when doth come sweet Peace and Death, 
 
 Sorrow comes not again. 
 
IN SUFFOLK. 
 
 N^ what are yew a dewin' on, 
 
 Johnny bor' among t' hay ? " 
 "A tossin' it that haird," saa he, 
 " Yew mind I dew not play." 
 
 " Are yew a goin' to wark all day, 
 Johnny bor* ? Dew stop an' ate, 
 
 I ha' brought an apple dumplin' 
 In a han'kercher' soo nate.'' 
 
 " An' what's te apple dumplin' 
 Mary maw'r, if yew wull stay 
 
 Down hinder in t' bean-field ? 
 'Tain't half soo swate as hay ; 
 
IN SUFFOLK. 17 1 
 
 " An' I bain't a warkin' in't. 
 
 WhooUy in yar hairt sure-ly, 
 Safe as t' apple in t' dumplin', 
 
 I dew hanker fur to lie." 
 
 "The daus are cooin' saftly noo 
 
 Up in the oold elm tree. 
 Come an' list to they a' talkin' 
 
 Johnny bor, and sit by me.'' 
 
 " An' that I wull. Tha come t' Squoire, 
 
 But maw'r, I would na stand 
 In his high-lowSj for all he hev, 
 
 If yew wull howld my hand. 
 
 " An' we'll hev te apple dumplin', 
 
 Soo swate t'wuU be, noo doot, 
 An' if I'm once inside yar hairt 
 
 Yew'll nivir git me oot." 
 
 "^^^^ 
 
MOTES. 
 
 ^HE ages sing the world is old, 
 The heart sings it is ever young 
 As long as matin songs are sung, 
 Or swelling buds unfold. 
 
 The rested wings outspread with morn 
 In strength renewed for soaring flight. 
 The fruit-heart ripens, tho' the night 
 
 The tender bloom hath shorn. 
 
 Changeless thro' many a wintry hour 
 The germ beneath the sodden mould 
 Lies hid, but spring sees all the wold 
 
 Reclothed in blade and flower. 
 
MOTES. 173 
 
 The aged hawthorns bloom, and fling 
 In showers their flaky petals round ; 
 Beneath them on the whitened ground 
 
 The tender treelings spring. 
 
 In 'scutcheoned hall or thatchfed cot 
 New baby-voices croon : .and cries 
 Are still'd 'neath soothing lullabies, 
 
 And infant griefs forgot. 
 
 And thoughts too deep for utterance fill 
 The mother's heart — what hidden powers 
 With youth may grow ? In manhood's hours 
 
 What strength for good or ill ? 
 
 Shout upon shout rise through the hall— 
 And mine the name on every tongue, 
 And mine the victory that's sung. 
 
 But ah ! this is not all. 
 
174 MOTES. 
 
 I covet : still before me rise 
 Ambition's heights ; but dim and far 
 As faintly shines the morning star 
 
 On early waking eyes. 
 
 What ecstasy to know begun 
 
 The task-work set for all our days, 
 To hear the words of hard-won praise, 
 
 To hear the earned " well done." 
 
 I hearken to the mighty roll 
 Of organ notes ; for me are lost 
 All time and space : for tempest tost 
 
 It bears along my soul. 
 
 As on the swelling rhythm I mount 
 
 Past the roofs vault to boundless space 
 I gaze down on the toiling race. 
 
 And know how far the fount 
 
 Of bliss doth lie to which we reach : 
 I see the countless worlds unroll — 
 
MOTES. 175 
 
 A mighty awe sinks in my soul. 
 How poor the creeds we teach ! 
 
 Mere moving specks of dust are we, 
 That swiftly come and wandering go ; 
 Yet to each one his weal or woe 
 
 Seems an immensity. 
 
 My pulses throb with quicker flow, 
 A yearning and unrest doth seize 
 My heart. Are they in vain all these 
 
 Fierce strivings here below ? 
 
 Ah, no ! As fuller swells the strain 
 
 A wider end dawns on my mind, 
 
 A vaster good for all mankind ; 
 No unit lives in vain. 
 
 The harmony of matchless might 
 From single notes is blent, the bow 
 That paints the sky with varied glow 
 
 Is made pf raindrops' light. 
 
176 MOTES. 
 
 The music faints and falls ; my eyes 
 Are dim with welling tears, I know 
 Not why their quick unconscious flow, 
 
 Nor why sad thoughts arise. 
 
 Perchance, upborne on music's wings, 
 The soul mounts nearer Wisdom's throne. 
 Where meet the unknown and the known, 
 
 To learn of higher things. 
 
 The pebble on the shore is cast ; 
 We cannot gauge the depths from whence 
 It came, nor, washed again from thence, 
 
 Know where 'twill rest at last. 
 
 The finite from the infinite 
 
 We come ; around us surge earth's tides 
 Of night. 'Tis Love the future hides 
 
 From our imperfect sight. 
 
MOTES. 177 
 
 come, sweet memories, enhance 
 The short-lived joys of bygone days. 
 Again I see the yule log blaze, 
 
 1 join the merry dance. 
 
 Again I greet the Christmas morn,; 
 
 On the bare hedge the robin trills. 
 
 And on the everlasting hills 
 The glorious light is born. 
 
 Over the earth the virgin snow 
 Lets fall her flaky veil, with bright 
 And fairy robes the fields are dight, 
 
 Where'er the frost-winds blow. 
 
 The osiers wave their blushing rods 
 
 Where we twain watch the weir, the sedge 
 Sings o'er the pool, and by its edge 
 
 The tufted bulrush nods. 
 
 Again the berried boughs are wreathed 
 To deck the raftered hall, and hands 
 
 N 
 
178 MOTES. 
 
 Meet o'er the shining ivy bands 
 And 'mid their leaves are breathed 
 
 Sweet words that like soft music fall : 
 Ah me ! what visioned joys appear 
 That vanished with the passing year, 
 
 Vanished beyond recall. 
 
 At eve the bells' long music shakes 
 
 The old church-tower, then spreads afar 
 To where the sea upon the bar 
 
 A mightier music makes. 
 
 And 'mid their melody sublime, 
 
 As on the shore the wild waves beat, 
 Methinks I hear dead voices greet 
 
 Me o'er the lapse of time. 
 
 Who hath not lost a well-loved strain 
 To know it rise in after days. 
 
MOTES. 1 79 
 
 Like some old friend that comes and lays 
 His hand in ours again ? 
 
 And with warm touch wakes from their rest 
 Old longings that we deemed dead, 
 Till feelings that for long had fled 
 
 Run riot in the breast. 
 
 The years glide by, and from us pass 
 Our best beloved, as fades the light 
 Of stars beneath the clouds of night, 
 
 Or sunbeams from the grass. 
 
 Ring on, sweet bells ! Bloom-scented lime ! 
 Young hearts and old ye yet shall cheer, 
 And make the glad hours of the year 
 
 Remembered for all time. 
 
 The lichened church looms dark and gaunt 
 Against the changeful sky ; the spring 
 
i8o MOTES. 
 
 Has come, and cuckoo-calls outring 
 From many a hidden haunt. 
 
 And tender hues the woodland flush, 
 And to the heart all things are fai- 
 ^nd melody is everywhere. 
 
 In mead, and sky, and bush. 
 
 And brightly smiles each golden eyt 
 Upon the springing grass, where glows 
 The kingcups shining bloom o'er those 
 
 Who in God's garden lie. 
 
 Beauteous the gifts that Spring, O dead, 
 Doth lavish on your tombs ! The years 
 May give us peace — though 'tis thro' tears 
 
 Our grief to peace is led. 
 
 And Easter hands have decked the church 
 With choicest offerings of the glade. 
 Culled where the morning breezes played 
 
 Beneath the quivering birch. 
 
MOTES. 181 
 
 The window sills, embrasured deep, 
 Bloom with thb purple violet. 
 And primrose-stars with dew-beads wet 
 
 From dainty grasses peep. 
 
 The monuments still changeless stand 
 
 While human lives pass to and fro, 
 
 And many bands of children go 
 Unto the silent land. 
 
 The marble mother kneeling there 
 
 Amid the sculptured cherub throng. 
 
 Listening to ceaseless years of song. 
 To ceaseless years of prayer, — 
 
 Now smiles again on Easter flowers 
 
 Wreathed round each little white stone head, 
 And little lifeless feet that tread 
 
 The buds of April hours. 
 
 Yes, hand in hand, O Life and Death, 
 We meet you in the festooned aisles, 
 
i82 MOTES. 
 
 Where Nature gifts her lavish smiles 
 And breathes her balmy breath. 
 
 Deck on young hands, and footsteps light 
 Trip o'er the grass, although your tread 
 May echo o'er the quiet dead ; 
 
 For you not yet 'tis night. 
 
 And e'en for me this Easter morn 
 
 Hath touch'd the dayspring of my soul, 
 Hath chased the clouds that o'er me roll 
 
 And ushered in the dawn. 
 
 How calm the night ! The crescent moon 
 Like to a silver bark doth ride 
 Upon a sapphire sea, whose tide 
 
 Is stayed : the gentle croon 
 
 Of ringdoves in the copse that wake. 
 The splash of moor-hens in the reeds. 
 
MOTES. 183 
 
 Or frogs amid the floating weeds, 
 Alone the silence break. 
 
 Sweet peace enfolds me ; for the still 
 And pulseless beauty of the night 
 My surging passions lull : the breezes light 
 
 Waft from the wooded hill 
 
 The pine trees' healing scent. I breathe 
 Their incense pure ; my soul doth rise 
 From earth unto the star-lit skies, 
 
 And love-born fancies wreathe 
 
 Around those dwellers in the land 
 Of death, who've passed the mystic line 
 That shadows, but cannot define. 
 
 The dim eternal strand. 
 
 " He giveth His beloved sleep ! " 
 If life would be a waking pain. 
 Would we then call our dead again 
 
 With us such watch to keep ? 
 
i«4 MOTES. 
 
 Like blessings o'er our days broadcast, 
 Like echoes of a well-loved strain, 
 Or whispered prayers in holy fane. 
 
 They sanctify our past. 
 
 Sweet Love ! then come our feet to lave 
 Throughout our little round of years ; 
 E'en though you bless through mists of tears 
 
 The cradle and the grave. 
 
SONNETS. 
 I. 
 
 HROUGH mazy branches gazing to the sky, 
 I see Heaven's tapers twinkling in the blue ; 
 And glow-worms' tiny lamp's are flickering nigh, 
 Lighting their mossy beds that gleam with dew. 
 I dream of what those ageless orbs could tell 
 Of worlds unknown that roll through boundless space, 
 And wonder what the strange resistless spell 
 That drew each atom to its ordered place. 
 What soul can read the mysteries of the sky. 
 Or count the ages of Time's ceaseless round ? 
 Or grasp the nearer truths that round us lie — 
 The secrets of the ever-quickening ground ? 
 Burn on, ye stars ! let your unfailing light 
 Awe earth-bom souls with God's all-wondrous might. 
 
i86 
 
 II. 
 ^HAT! bliss in calm! Ah no! give me the 
 crash 
 
 Of storm-winds tearing thro' the breaking woods ; 
 The rush of Nature in her wildest moods, 
 When on the rocks the restless surges dash. 
 More grand the beauty of the Ughtning's flash, 
 Than pallid moon-rays silvering the woods ; 
 More music in the swirl of fighting floods, 
 Than when soft wavelets curl with tinkling splash. 
 I love no still cold waters ; let me feel 
 The wild spray's kisses on my lips, my eyes. 
 The onward sweep of waves till senses reel, 
 As o'er their foaming crests the vessel flies. 
 No heights ! no depths ! no passions' after joy ! 
 Eternal peace ! what can it do but cloy ? 
 
i87 
 
 III. 
 
 ^S by the wayside some coy blooms may hide, 
 Whose fragrance only of their presence tells, 
 So thoughts of thee, which e'en thou could'st not chide. 
 Hide in my heart where love for thee e'er dwells. 
 And if with heedless eye thou passest by 
 The flowers of love that bloom for thee alone, 
 Then will they fade in loneliness and die. 
 No other hand shall cull them but thine own. 
 Or if thou deign'st awhile them close to hold 
 Unto thy Ups, and then dost let them fall 
 Beneath thy feet, to gather on the wold 
 Some fairer, richer bloom, let this be all. 
 If fragrance and delight to thee they give. 
 Sweeter to die than far from thee to live. 
 
i88 
 
 IV. 
 
 |ES, we have climbed the height, together 
 stood 
 
 Upon the cloudless summit, hand in hand. 
 And heart to heart responded, while a flood 
 Of feeling swept like wind across the land. 
 Over our heads love's star shone clear and bright, 
 We could but love its light, dear, you and I, 
 Such radiance fair had never blessed our sight, 
 Tho' o'er us oft has shone a summer's sky. 
 No need of words, the chords of being drew 
 Us close and closer still as soul met soul. 
 The utmost depths were stirred, and well we knew 
 No other joy so full could o'er us roll. 
 Ah ! cold would be that height with thee away, 
 I want no other love but thine alway. 
 
189 
 
 V. 
 JORGIVE me, dear ! the sudden clouds of night 
 Enveloped all the heights, I could not see 
 Where led my way, and from my timorous sight 
 Thy face was hid — thy clasping hand to me 
 Unstretched — I was alone ! I could but hear 
 The valley voices rising through the gloom, 
 And mocking at my loneliness and fear, 
 For by thy onward path there seemed no room. 
 Maybe there was no need to dread the might 
 Of massing clouds — no need for any sigh — 
 No need to mark the storm-bird's passing flight, 
 Tho' thy dear presence was no longer by. 
 Let thy love be my light in darkest hours. 
 And turn the tempest into passing showers. 
 
1 90 
 
 VI. 
 WAYWARD cloudlet, born of virgin snow, 
 Escaping skyward from the ice-clad height, 
 Shaped by wild winds and blushing in the glow 
 Of sunny air, in drifting glory bright. 
 Lighter than sea-foam blown across the lea, 
 Fairer than curling mists of moonlit spray, 
 Into the azure depths in fearless glee, 
 It floated 'midst the infinite to play. 
 It witched the eye with ever-changing grace. 
 Unfolding tender beauties to the sun. 
 And coy, repelled the north wind's strong embrace. 
 Then faded died, ere life was well begun. 
 And so, O cloudlet, thou hast gained the rest 
 That waits for all on Nature's throbbing breast. 
 
igi 
 
 VII. 
 J {AUGHT can resist the touch of drear decay, 
 That which most beauteous is must fall in dust, 
 The cheek's fair bloom, the sunlight of to-day 
 Alike must pass, the mind's bright powers rust 
 Beneath the mists of age. But know we still 
 That nothing can be lost. Each thing we deem 
 As dead, transformed by an almighty will. 
 Shall live again, perchance not as we dream 
 In low estate, but in some higher scene. 
 The passing years grow ever richer by 
 The garnered harvests of what once hath been. 
 The living work of sages dead shall cry 
 To sleeping men with an awakening blast ; 
 Though worlds decay, the soul's rich fruits shall last. 
 
192 
 
 VIII. 
 WEET is the breath of morn, the grey clouds 
 break 
 
 In golden splendour o'er the low dark hills ; 
 The silver aspens tremblingly awake 
 To hymns uprising from soft tinkling rills. 
 The dreaming flowers on the earth's soft breast 
 Offer their hidden graces to the sun, 
 And meads and woods by gloomy hours opprest 
 Laugh in their glee to know the night is done. 
 Good-day ! ay, yes, good-day ! from downy cot 
 To greet the morn the jolly infant hies, 
 And brightens life, for toil is all forgot 
 While children's kisses fall on waking eyes, 
 
 So dark our life, if wanting Love's Good-day ! 
 
 So dark our life, the little ones away. 
 
 CHISWICK PRESS :— C. WHITTINGHAM AND CO., TOOKS COURT, 
 CHANCERY LANE, LONDON. 
 
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