■'.'.'.'/H- 
 
 >'tr ' !• 
 
 
 
 ^t/'M^^;'/-.^: 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 '/<' 
 
 ' jr/ t^y^i V 
 
 1?^;^ 
 
 r^^-,vj 
 
 ,tr-' 
 
 llE I^IG-HT 
 
 V Vi^ »S"B" 
 
 ,t^ .', 
 
 
 rt4 '- 
 
 
 ^>- 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 i^ 
 
 
 ' - 4-:. 
 
 
/l-//^5 
 
^ 
 
 
 
 The date shows when this volume ^|w taken. 
 
 ^o renew this book copy the call If o raiSd ^^to- 
 
 the libra rian. ' . 
 
 HOME USE RULES. 
 
 All Books subject to Recall. 
 All books -.must' be 
 returned at end of col- 
 lege year for inspec- 
 tion and repairs. 
 
 dents must re- 
 all books before 
 leaving town. Officers 
 should arrange fdr 
 the return of books 
 wanted during their 
 bsence from town. ' ■ 
 oks needed by 
 than one person 
 are held on the reserve 
 list. 
 
 olumes of periodi- 
 fcals and of pamphlets 
 are held in the library 
 as much as possible. 
 For special purposes 
 ■they are given out for 
 a limited time. 
 
 Borrowers should 
 not use -their library 
 privileges for the bene-, 
 fi^of other persons. 
 
 Books of special 
 
 value and gift books, 
 
 when the giver wishes 
 
 it, are not allowed to 
 
 1 circulate. 
 
 Readers are asked 
 to report all cases of 
 books marked or muti- 
 lated. 
 Do not deface books by marks and writloK. 
 
 S9 
 
Cornell University 
 Library 
 
 The original of tinis 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/cu31924013343508 
 
SONGS IN THE NIGHT. 
 
SONGS IN THE NIGHT 
 
 SDt^zv pozms. 
 
 BY THE AniHOE OF 
 
 " CHRISTIAN SCHOOLS AND SCHOLARS." 
 
 
 'Where ia God who made me. 
 Who giveth Songs in the Night?" 
 
 Joe XXXV. 10. 
 
 LONDON : BURNS & OATES, Limited. 
 
 NEW YORK : CATHOLIC PUBLICATION SOCIETY CO. 
 
 1887. 
 
^h( 
 
 oj 
 
 A-l(o57^( 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 The title of this little volume has been chosen from 
 the circumstance that several of the poems here 
 collected were originally suggested by passages in 
 the Spiritual Canticles of St John of the Cross, 
 whose use of the word Night, in a mystic sense, is 
 too well known to require explanation. Where this 
 has been the case, the particular passage is preiixed 
 by way of motto, but (with the single exception of 
 the " Fountain of the Night ") the poems are in no 
 sense a version of the Spanish text. In one re- 
 spect, however, they follow its method, being for 
 the most part written in the first person, as best 
 fitted to convey the experience of each individual 
 soul. 
 
 To the original pieces have been added a few 
 imitations' of our ancient religious poetry, of which 
 
VI PREFACE. 
 
 the most considerable is a portion of Lydgate's 
 " Court of Sapience." In this poem the old writer 
 has expanded the exquisite metaphor of the 84th 
 Psalm into a dramatic narrative, wherein the divine 
 attributes of Mercy, Truth, Peace, and Justice are 
 boldly personified. The modernised version given in 
 this volume has aimed at preserving the substance, 
 and even the phraseology of the original, with only 
 so much alteration as might render it intelligible to 
 modern readers. 
 
 The present reprint will be found to contain a 
 few omissions and additions. "The Three Corona- 
 tions " is contributed by a friend, and is an attempt 
 to render a chapter in the Theologia Mystica of 
 Harphius. 
 
 A. T. D. 
 
 St. Dommio's Convent, Stone, 
 Octoher lith, 1886. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 I. Songg in t}jz i^tgl^t. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 THE FOUNTAIN OP THE NIGHT 3 
 
 THE rAIEEST FAIB . 6 
 
 THE INCENSE OE THE DESEKT 9 
 
 LIGHT ON THE HILL-TOPS 12 
 
 FORGOTTEN AMONG THE LILIES 16 
 
 RETDENING 20 
 
 SDNKISB 25 
 
 ALONE ON THE HILL 29 
 
 ABANDONMENT 31 
 
 THE SHADOW OF THE ROOK 35 
 
 THE TRUE SOLITARY 38 
 
 WHAT THE SOUL DESIRES 43 
 
 THE SEARCH FOB THE BELOVED 46 
 
 FAITH AND SENSE 49 
 
 THE LOST FLOCK 51 
 
via CONTENTS. 
 
 II. iHtacellaneona potma. 
 
 FA6B 
 
 THE FLOCK KESTOKED 57 
 
 SENSIBLE SWEETNESS 61 
 
 THE VALLEY OP ACHOR 64 
 
 DAKTMOOE 66 
 
 LOSS AND SAIN 69 
 
 A LAMENT 75 
 
 CONFIDENCE 79 
 
 DAISIES 81 
 
 HOLT JOT 85 
 
 DISAPPOINTMENT 92 
 
 JOSDE 94 
 
 FOOTPKINTS 98 
 
 OLD THOUGHTS IN VERSE 102 
 
 DnO IN ALT0M 105 
 
 THE ICE-FLOWEE ON MONT OENIS 107 
 
 AN APRIL DAT HO 
 
 DAYLIGHT BENEATH THE WATERS . . . . . .114 
 
 AUTUMN THOUGHTS . 117 
 
 ON READING THE " GRAMMAR OF ASSENT " . . . . 121 
 
 COMPLETENESS IN GOD ....... 123 
 
 THE GIFT OF GOD ... J26 
 
 MAGNIFICAT ANTIPHONS 129 
 
 ^^'^ ' . 132 
 
 THE MOUNTAIN SUMMIT jg^ 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 IX 
 
 LIGHT ON IHE CLOUDS . 
 
 THE LIFE OP LOVE 
 
 WHITSUNTIDE 
 
 THE THREE COEONATIONS 
 
 THE LEGEND OE BLESSED IMELDA 
 
 THE LEGEND OF BLESSED EGIDIUS 
 
 PAQE 
 
 136 
 138 
 139 
 
 141 
 145 
 151 
 
 III. Emitati0n0 of ^tnctent SEngltafj ^oetrg. 
 
 A PRATER TO OUR LADT 163 
 
 ANOTHER 165 
 
 MARIS STELLA 168 
 
 THE FIRST BOOK OF THE COURT OP SAPIENCE . . . 171 
 
I. 
 
 gojMQg IJH THE KlQHT. 
 
Eije fountain of t|je M^t; 
 
 OS., 
 
 THE CANTICLE OF THE SOUL REy DICING TO KNOW 
 GOD BY faith} 
 
 There is a Fount whence endless waters flow, 
 There Zephyrs play and fairest flowerets blow ; 
 Full well that crystal fountain do I know, 
 
 Though of the Night. 
 
 I know the verdant hills that gird it round ; 
 Its source I know not, for no thought can sound 
 The Spring whence all things iirst their being found 
 
 In the dark Night. 
 
 I know no earthly beauty to compare 
 With that mysterious Fount, so calm and fair, 
 All things in heaven and earth are pictured there, 
 
 Though of the Night. 
 
 1 Works of St John of the Cross, Vol. II. p. 415. 
 
THE FOUNTAIN OP THE NIGHT. 
 
 The tide wells forth in many a flowing river, 
 Yet is the Fountain-head exhausted never ; 
 Onward it flows, for ever, and for ever, 
 
 On through the Night. 
 
 No cloud obscures, no passing shadows rest 
 Upon that Fountain's clear unruffled breast. 
 Itself the very source of light confessed. 
 
 Though of the Night. 
 
 Forth from this Spring a sparkling Torrent flows, 
 Who shall the secret of its birth disclose 1 
 And yet I know the source from whence it rose. 
 
 Though of the Night. 
 
 I see from both a mighty river run, 
 
 Yet dare not say when first its course begun, 
 
 For Fountain, Torrent, Eiver — all are One, 
 
 Though of the Night. 
 
 I know that all are ours — all hidden lie 
 In form of Bread, hid from the curious eye 
 To give us life, love ! mystery. 
 
 Of deepest Night. 
 
THR FOUNTAIN OF tHE NIGHT. 5 
 
 And the Life seeks all living things to fill, 
 To quench our thirst with water from the rill, 
 To feed, to guide us, though in darkness still, 
 
 As of the Night 
 
 And ever of that Fount I long to drink, 
 And ever of that Living Bread I think, 
 And linger by that flowing River's brink 
 
 Through the long Night. 
 
Efje Jatost Jatr. 
 
 '* My Beloved is the mountains, 
 The solitary wooded valleys." 
 
 St John of the Cross, 
 [Spiritual Canticle^ Stanza xiv ) 
 
 Mountains, that upwards to the clouds arise 
 
 Odorous with thyme, whereon the wild bees linger. 
 Jewelled with flowers of a thousand dyes. 
 
 Their petals painted by no mortal finger ; 
 How solemn in their majesty they stand ! 
 
 Hills piled on hills, far as the eye can see; 
 Lofty, and strong, and beautiful, and grand, — 
 
 All this and more is my Beloved to me. 
 
 Come forth into the woods ; in yonder valley. 
 
 Where rippling waters murmur through the glade, 
 There, 'neath the rustling boughs of some green alley, 
 
 We'll watch the golden light and quivering shade: 
 Or couched on mossy banks we'll lie and listen 
 
 To song-birds pouring forth their vernal glee ; — 
 Wave on, ye woods ! ye fairy fountains, glisten ! 
 
 But more, far more, is my Beloved to me. 
 
THE FAIREST FAIR. 7 
 
 Know ye the land where fragrant winds awaken 
 
 In spicy forests, hidden from the eye 1 
 Where richest perfumes from the boughs are shaken, 
 
 And flowers unnoticed bloom, and blush, and die ? 
 Sweet is th' eternal spring that there reposes 
 
 On wondrous isles that gem the sunny sea. 
 And sweet the lireeze that sighs o'er beds of roses. 
 
 But sweeter far is my Beloved to me. 
 
 The roaring torrents from the ice-cliffs leaping, 
 
 I see them foaming down the mountain-side ; 
 Through the green dells and valleys onward sweeping, 
 
 They fill the hollows with their mighty tide ; 
 Their voice is as the voice of many waters. 
 
 Onward they rush, rejoicing to be free ; 
 But ah ! their thunder fails, their music falters — 
 
 All this and more is my Beloved to me. 
 
 A gentler sound wakes in the hush of even. 
 
 The whisper of a light and cooling breeze ; 
 It stirs when twilight shades are on the heavens. 
 
 And bows the tufted foliage of the trees ; 
 It fans my cheek ; its music, softly stealing. 
 
 Speaks to my heart in loving mystery; 
 Ah, gentle breeze ! full well thou art revealing 
 
 The joy that my Beloved is to me. 
 
THE FAIREST FAIR. 
 
 Night comes at last, ip mystic shadows folding 
 
 The nodding forests, and the verdant lawn, 
 Till the day breaks, and Nature starts, beholding 
 
 The golden chariot of the coming dawn : 
 Then on the boughs the feathered chanters waking, 
 
 Pour forth their matin-song on bush and tree — 
 Cease, cease your notes, ye birds, my heart-strings 
 breaking 
 
 Lack words to say what Jesus is to me ! 
 
 Yea, all the fairest forms that Nature scatters, 
 
 And aU melodious sounds that greet the ear, — 
 The murmuring music of the running waters. 
 
 The golden harvest-fields that crown the year, 
 The crimson morn, the calm and dewy even, 
 
 The tranquil moonlight on a slumbering sea, — 
 All are but shadows, forms of beauty given 
 
 To tell what my Beloved is to me ! 
 
€})t Mtmst of t!je fficgert. 
 
 " Cease, O killing North Wind I 
 Come, O South Wind, and blow through my garden I " 
 
 {Spiritual Canticle, Stanza xvii.) 
 
 Cease, thou killing North Wind ! 
 In thy touch there is sorrow and death ; 
 The flowers dry up and wither 
 At the blast of thy terrible breath : 
 But come, sweet South Wind, and waken 
 The odours that sleep 'mid the trees ; 
 When their blossoms are gently shaken 
 They'll give forth their scent to the breeze. 
 
 Blow through my garden, thou South Wind, 
 All is scentless and withered there ; 
 Drop down the dew of compunction, 
 Call forth the perfume of prayer : 
 Without Thee, Spirit of sweetness, 
 My heart is all barren and dry ; 
 Without Thee the blossoms of virtue 
 Must close up their petals and die. 
 
lO THE INCENSE OF THE DESERT. 
 
 Too long Thou delayest thy coming, 
 
 How weary and dull seem the years ! 
 
 The soil of my garden grows hardened, 
 
 Its ground is unwatered with tears : 
 
 In the stony and desolate desert 
 
 No plant of fair promise will grow. 
 
 Till the Wind of the South shall sweep o'er it, 
 
 And bid the sweet waters to flovr. 
 
 And yet through these long wintry hours 
 I know that I must not repine ; 
 They teach me how greatly I need Thee, 
 They teach me to know what is mine : 
 I am nought but the wilderness barren, 
 With briars and thorns overgrown ; 
 'Tis from Thee that the increase is given. 
 The briars and thorns are my own. 
 
 Blow through my garden, thou South Wind, 
 Bring the gracious and life-giving rain, 
 And the land of its beauty forsaken 
 Shall burst into blossom again. 
 Even so o'er the dry thirsty desert 
 The streams from the hills sweetly flow, 
 And Araby's sands yield the incense 
 Which Carmel itself does not know. 
 
THE INCENSE OF THE DESERT. II 
 
 incense of exquisite perfume ! 
 Rise, rise from my desolate heart ! 
 No nursling of Eden's green bowers, 
 But a chUd of tlie desert thou art : 
 
 Not from earth dost thou borrow thy sweetness, 
 Thy home is the dry parching sand, 
 But from heaven it drinks in its fragrance. 
 And to heaven its odours expand. 
 
 Even so would I have it be ever, 
 
 Even so would I owe all to Thee ; 
 
 Let all that I have be Thy giving, 
 
 And so 'twill be sweetest for me : 
 
 The showers must drop down from heaven. 
 
 And thence must the warm sunbeams shine ; 
 
 1 yield but the clods of the valley, 
 The light and the fragrance are Thine ! 
 
ILiQljt on tf)E l^tll=Eops. 
 
 " Hide Thyself, my Beloved ; 
 Let Thy face shine on the mountains." 
 
 {Spiritual Ca7iticle, Stanza xix.) 
 
 I KNOW a mountain land, 
 
 k. land of woods and streams, 
 
 Fairer than poet ever drew 
 
 In the light of his waking dreams. 
 
 The valleys laugh and sing, 
 And the fields stand thick with corn, 
 Which bows and waves as the breezes pass, 
 From the mountain-summits borne. 
 
 A northern land, whose sky 
 No changeless azure wears, 
 But varies like a wayward child, 
 And smiles through a veil of tears. 
 
LIGHT ON THE HILL- TOPS, 1 3 
 
 There are mists on the mountain-brow, 
 There are clouds on the summer sky, 
 Casting their shadows o'er the fields 
 As the wild winds sweep them by. 
 
 And often towards the close 
 
 Of a bright October day 
 
 There steals o'er the d3dng autumn woods 
 
 A mantle of pensive grey. 
 
 Then a softened stillness falls 
 
 O'er the faint and fading earth, 
 
 More beautiful far in such chastened mood 
 
 Than in spring-time's garish mirth. 
 
 And sometimes between the clouds 
 
 A sudden sunshine gleams, 
 
 And over the hills, like a sad, sweet smile, 
 
 A passing brightness streams. 
 
 'Tis a thought which in darkest hours 
 With sweetness my spirit fills. 
 Though the shadows in the valley lie, 
 There is light upon the hills. 
 
14 LIGHT ON THE HILL-TOPS. 
 
 I see the dull, dark cloud, 
 
 And I feel the heavy air; 
 
 But I lift my eyes to the mountain-top. 
 
 And I know there is sunshine there. 
 
 Sun of my soul ! there are days 
 
 When I cannot see Thy face, 
 
 When I cannot feel the touch of Thy hand 
 
 Nor the sweetness of Thy grace. 
 
 I am hound by the chain of sense. 
 And vainly I strive to rise ; 
 Yet Thy smUe stUl rests upon the heights 
 Where I lift my weary eyes. 
 
 Oh for the wings of the Dove ! 
 To carry me far away. 
 Up to the peaks of the snowy hills 
 Where the rosy sunbeams stay. 
 
 The wings of the Dove may fail, 
 But the life of faith can bear 
 My spirit up to the mountain-top, 
 And its free, unclouded air. 
 
LIGHT ON THE HILL- TO PS. IS 
 
 Then hide Thyself, my Beloved, 
 If such be Thy gracious will, — 
 Hide Thyself from this lower world, 
 But shine on the lofty hill. 
 
 Shine on, and I will not ask 
 
 The sun on my path to see ; 
 
 The cloud of Faith is the home of Love, 
 
 And the dark shall be light to me. 
 
 The gleam on the mountain-brow, 
 The shadow around me cast ; 
 Courage, the sunset-hour will come, 
 And the clouds will disperse at last ! 
 
Jorgotten among i^t M«s. 
 
 *' I fainted away abandoned ; 
 And amid tlie lilies forgotten 
 Threw all my cares away/' 
 
 (TAe Obscure Night, Stanza viiL) 
 
 Through the dark night I wander on alone, 
 And, as one blinded, grope my weary way, 
 Without a lamp to shed its guiding ray ; 
 I wander on unseen, and seeing none, 
 And caring to behold but only One. 
 
 I see not, yet my heart will give me light, 
 And safer than the noonday sun will guide 
 To where the Bridegroom waiteth for the Bride ; 
 So walking on in faith and not by sight, 
 I cannot fear but He will guide me right. 
 
 Darkness ! thou hast beauties as the morn ; 
 The quiet pensive stars are all for thee ; 
 They veil their eyes what time the shadows flee. 
 And their bespangled mantle is withdrawn 
 Before the rosy brightness of the dawn. 
 
FORGOTTEN AMONG THE LILIES. I J 
 
 To Thee the night-flowers yield their sweet perfume 
 Thou hast Thy music too, the gentle breeze 
 And the low waving of the cedar-trees, 
 Whose giant branches through the dimness loom, 
 A mystic twilight, most unlike to gloom. 
 
 I wander on, scarce knowing how I dare 
 Thus brave the terrors of the lonely night. 
 Ah me ! what stirs before my dazzled sight ? 
 From yonder turret in the dark-blue air 
 I see a shadow as of waving hair ! ^ 
 
 Art Thou then near ? Oh speak, and let me know ! 
 I see Thee, hear Thee not ; is this Thy hand ? 
 And dost Thou by the waving cedars stand ? 
 And does the night-breeze on Thy forehead blow 1 
 Wilt Thou depart ? Oh, answer ere I go ! 
 
 And did He answer ? Ask me not to say ; — 
 I only know He left me, and I lie 
 As one forgotten, yet who cannot die ; 
 And here I found myself at break of day. 
 Forgotten 'mid the lilies by the way. 
 
 ' Stanzas vi., vii. 
 
FORGOTTEN AMONG THE LILIES. 
 
 It is a weary thing to be forgot — 
 
 A tearful, weary, melancholy thing 
 
 To lie here like a bird with wounded wing ; 
 
 Yet there is something, though I know not 
 
 what, 
 That makes me lie at rest, and love my lot. 
 
 Forgotten 'mid the lilies ; for I feel 
 
 Their gentle blossoms wave above my head ; 
 
 I breathe the magic perfume which they shed, 
 
 As though my bleeding wounds they fain would 
 
 heal. 
 And from my heart its aching sorrow steal. 
 
 A sad, sweet lot — I needs must call it sweet ; 
 My cares, like withered buds, I cast aside, 
 And reck but little what may next betide ; 
 The days and years fly past on pinions fleet. 
 Amid these lilies crushed beneath His feet. 
 
 Forgotten and abandoned ; — yet withal 
 Leaning my heart upon my only Love : 
 Nay, raise me not, I do not care to move ; 
 Soon I shall hear His gentle footstep fall, 
 And lift my eyes, and answer to His call. 
 
FORGOTTEN AMONG THE LILIES. I9 
 
 Till then among the lilies let me lie ; 
 See, I have cast my idle cares away : 
 Howe'er it be, I am content to stay 
 Until once more the Bridegroom passes by, 
 And hither turns His gracious, pitying eye. 
 
 Blame not my folly, for I know full well 
 My words can nought but idle babbling seem, 
 The madness of a fond and foolish dream : 
 Bear with my folly, for the thoughts that swell 
 This burning heart, I cannot, dare not tell. 
 
 Know only this^I suffer, yet I rest : 
 For all my cares and fears are cast away, 
 And more than this I know not how to say j 
 f'orgotten though I be, I own it best 
 And 'mid the lilies lie in perfect rest. 
 
Returning. 
 
 " When Thou didst regard me, 
 Thine eyes imprinted Thy grace in me." 
 
 (^Spiritual CanticU, Stanza xxxii.) 
 
 Once more beside the sea, once more 
 I stand upon the pebbly shore j 
 The billows as they idly play 
 A thousand welcomes seem, to say, 
 And time rolls back, and I could deem 
 These twenty years an idle dream. 
 
 Yes, fair as ever is thy smile 
 As when of old thou didst beguile 
 The weariness of self that found 
 In Nature's every sight and sound 
 A charm that tamed its humours wild, 
 And soothed it like a tired child. 
 
 I know there is a something fled — 
 Old hopes, old joys, for ever dead ; 
 
RETURNING. 21 
 
 Old memories that have buried lain, 
 And now have lost their power to pain, 
 For in a deeper sea I've cast 
 The thoughts and troubles of the past. 
 
 Something is gone, but something too 
 O'er flood and forest sparkles new — 
 A Presence that is more divine 
 Seems in their beauty now to shine. 
 And on each crested wave I see 
 The footprints of a mystery. 
 
 'Twas so of old ; but far away 
 I caught the dim and flickering ray, 
 I feel it now more strangely near ; 
 And in the shadows broad and clear 
 That rest upon that silv'ry tide 
 It seems to hover at my side. 
 
 Old Ocean, with thine eye of blue. 
 Whence didst thou steal that glorious hue % 
 Whence was this magic o'er thee thrown. 
 For well I see 'tis not thine own : 
 The whispers of thy voice declare 
 Thou dost but borrowed splendour wear. 
 
22 RETURNING. 
 
 Here, as beside thy shore I stand, 
 
 Within the hollow of my hand 
 
 I scoop the dancing waves, and try 
 
 To cage their sapphire brilliancy : 
 
 But ah ! all colourless and clear, 
 
 No sapphired gems are prisoned here. 
 
 Whence does the azure beauty flow ? 
 Lift but thine eyes, and thou may'st know 
 Thou wUd and melancholy Sea, 
 It is not — cannot be from thee ! 
 Thou canst but mirror back to heaven 
 The gifts so richly, freely given. 
 
 I fain would think thy wavelets know 
 The gifts and graces that they owe ; 
 And fancy that their thanks they pour 
 Breaking in music on the shore ; 
 StiU chanting on through nights and days 
 The sweet Non nobis of their praise. 
 
 I too have beauty not my own ; 
 Even as the noonday heavens look down 
 And tint the Ocean with a hue 
 Which its own waters never knew ; 
 So on my heart one gentle Eye 
 Hath rested from eternity. 
 
RETURNING. 2^ 
 
 There it imprints its own sweet- grace 
 As on a mirror's stainless face ; 
 Each hue, each feature, traces there 
 Till every line is fresh and fair. 
 Then o'er that beauty seems to brood. 
 And loves it well, and calls it good. 
 
 'Tis this, Master ever kind ! — 
 'Tis this alone that Thou canst find 
 To charm Thy heart and win Thy smile 
 Within Thy creatures poor and vile : 
 Thine eye of mercy rests on me 
 Only Thine own fair gifts to see ! 
 
 Scarred and unlovely as my brow, 
 Thou wUt not, canst not scorn me now ; 
 I care not that Thine eye beholds, 
 Wrapt in Thy mantle's royal folds, 
 A beggar at Thy footstool bent, — 
 I own the truth, and am content. 
 
 Oh, would my heart were calm and clear 
 Even as the waves that murmur here ! 
 Its only thought and wish to bear 
 In sweet reflection imaged there 
 As on these crystal waters' face 
 The impress of Thy tender grace ! 
 
24 RETURNING. 
 
 Would that no wandering, earthborn cloud 
 Might ever Thy sweet Presence shroud, 
 No stormy wind of passion rise 
 To veil Thee from my watchful eyes ; 
 So might I, in that Presence blest, 
 Live on, forgiven, and at rest 1 
 
Sunrtse. 
 
 *• Let us go forth to see ourselves in Thy beauty." 
 
 {Spiritual Canticle, Stanza xxxvl.) 
 
 In the early morn awaking, 
 
 Forth I wandered to the hill, 
 Whilst the golden dawn was breaking, 
 
 And the world lay hushed and still. 
 
 All around on bush and heather 
 Diamond dewdrops glittering lay, 
 
 In their jewelled eyes reflecting 
 Flashes of the coming day. 
 
 Every branch was bright with blossoms, 
 Oh, how joyous did they seem 
 
 As the early summer sunshine 
 
 Touched them with its golden gleam ! 
 
 Let me cuU you, lovely flowers. 
 Sparkling in the morning dew ; 
 
 Ah, could I win back my childhood, 
 Sinless and unstained as you ! 
 
26 SUNSISB. 
 
 Stining ■with baptismal graces 
 That hke dewdrops o'er it lay. 
 
 Ere the world with careless footstep 
 AU its freshness bmshed away. 
 
 Vain the wish ! — but thoughts of sorrow 
 Shall not mix their dark alloy 
 
 With the gladness of this hour, 
 "When the earth is fuU of joy. 
 
 FuU of joy, and fuU of beauty, 
 FuU of worship and of praise, 
 
 Clad in robes all gemmed, and woven 
 With the threads of golden rays. 
 
 Ah, how fair is earth ! yet fairer 
 He who scatters far and wide 
 
 Beauty on the field and forest. 
 Summer sky, or rippling tide. 
 
 On the snow-peaks of the mountains. 
 
 In the valleys far below, 
 In the cool and mossy caverns 
 
 Where the crystal waters flow ; 
 
^UNSISE. 27 
 
 Everywhere it makes its dwelling, 
 
 Everywhere is Beauty found, 
 Charming with its magic finger 
 
 Homeliest sight and lightest sound. 
 
 As of old in Eden's garden, 
 
 'Mid the shadows of the trees. 
 Forms divine were seen, and voices 
 
 Came upon the evening breeze ; ^ 
 
 So a nameless grace and music 
 Hide themselves in earthly things, 
 
 Till in rapturous moments, almost 
 See we still the seraph wings. 
 
 Light Eternal ! touch my eyelids, 
 
 Eend the veil, and let me see 
 Thee in every form of beauty, 
 
 And all beauteous things in Thee. 
 
 Then upon Thy beauty gazing 
 I myself shall beauteous shine ; 
 
 " Gen. iii. 8. 
 
28 SUNRISE. 
 
 Thine shall be my beauty also, 
 And Thy beauty shall be mine.' 
 
 In the morning dew and sunshine, 
 
 In the garlands that I bind, 
 Let my soul Thine unseen Presence 
 
 Ever seek, and seeking, find ! 
 
 1 " Let me be so transformed into Thy Beauty, that being 
 alike in beauty, we may see ourselves both in Thy Beauty. . . . 
 And thus I shall see Thee in Thy Beauty, and myself in Thy 
 Beauty, and Thou shalt see me in Thy Beauty ; — my beauty 
 shall be Thine, and Thine shall be mine." — St John of the Cross, 
 Vol. II. p. 187. 
 
^one on tije ?§tlU 
 
 "While of roses 
 We make a nosegay. 
 Let no one appear on the hill." 
 
 {Spirtiual Canticle, Stanza xvi.) 
 
 Away to the hill 
 Where the purple heather grows ! 
 With the wild hedge-rose 
 
 My arms I will fill. 
 
 Away ere they wake ! 
 Let us steal away unseen, 
 And on the dewy green 
 
 No footprints make. 
 
 Sit we here as we twine 
 Each beautiful wild spray ; 
 I will cast the thorns away, 
 
 For the wreath is Thine. 
 
 Weave them in one by one ; 
 The paler bloom for me, 
 And the red one for Thee, 
 
 Till the wreath is done. 
 
30 ALONE ON THE HILL. 
 
 Let no one come near, 
 I would be with Thee alone ; 
 All the joy would be flown 
 
 If another were here. 
 
 My secret to me ! 
 These garlands that I twine 
 Are for no eyes but Thine, 
 
 They are all for Thee ! 
 
 With Thee by my side, 
 All is so sweet and still, 
 I could linger on the hUl 
 
 Until eventide. 
 
 Alas ! and must we go 1 
 Oh, how brief our holiday ! 
 I thought that Thou wouldst stay, 
 
 But 'tis ever so. 
 
 Why hidest Thou Thy face? 
 What wouldst Thou have me learn ? 
 Eeturn, oh return, 
 
 Sweet day of grace 1 
 
" I ran after Thee, crying ; but Thou wert gone." 
 
 {Spiritual Canticle^ Stanza i.) 
 
 I WANDER through the meadows, 
 
 But their beauty all is gone, 
 And the music of the forest boughs 
 
 Sounds mournful and forlorn. 
 
 The gladness of the summer 
 
 Is departed like a dream. 
 And the blossoms I so lately culled 
 
 Are floating down the stream. 
 
 Float on, float on, ye fairy wreaths. 
 
 And seek on either shore 
 For Him my heart so lately found, 
 
 For Him it finds no more ! 
 
 He came, -and He has gone again. 
 
 And all too late I knew 
 That when His presence is withdrawn 
 
 The sunbeams vanish too. 
 
32 ABANDONMENT. 
 
 They vanisli from tlie mountain-tops 
 And leave them cold and grey, 
 
 And from the happy harvest-fields 
 The brightness fades away. 
 
 And from my heart it fades the while 
 Where late such gladness burned, 
 
 And all my rosy sunset-clouds 
 To leaden gloom are turned. 
 
 Where art Thou fled, Beloved One ? 
 
 Where dost Thou hide Thy face % 
 I miss the music of Thy voice. 
 
 The beauty and the grace. 
 
 I miss the happy tears that flowed 
 When Thou wert by my side, 
 
 And now my heart is hard and cold, 
 The crystal fount is dried. 
 
 I thought not that the mighty joy 
 
 Could ever pass away, 
 And knew not that its lightning-flash 
 
 Was all too bright to stay. 
 
ABANDONMENT. 33 
 
 And then I waked to find Thee gone, 
 
 Gone — and I knew not where, 
 And the bright Eden of my heart 
 
 Lies desolate and bare. 
 
 Is nothing left, no little streak 
 To tell of coming dawn % 
 
 And is no echo of Thy voice 
 Upon the night-wind borne 1 
 
 I know not, yet at times I think 
 A friendly whisper speaks, 
 
 Saying, If blest is he who finds, 
 Blest too is he who seeks. 
 
 And doubly blest is he who waits 
 In patience sweet and still, 
 
 And gladly bears the aching void 
 Which only God can fill. 
 
 And doubly, doubly blest is he 
 Who asks no lover's gifts. 
 
 But upward, with a hero's heart, 
 His fainting spirit lifts ; 
 
34 ABANDONMENT. 
 
 Seeks God alone, and not the joys 
 Which. Love Divine may give, 
 
 Content upon the lover's cross 
 To suffer, and to live ! 
 
** We shall go at once 
 To the lofty caverns of the Rock." 
 
 (Spiritual Caniiclej Stanza xxxvii.) 
 
 My eyes are dazzled with the noontide blaze 
 Of endless splendour over lawn and lea, 
 The very sunbeams form a golden haze, 
 So bright the day, and yet I cannot see. 
 
 Oh for some kindly shelter from the heat ! 
 Some cavern with its cool and dewy air, 
 Some leafy thicket, in whose green retreat 
 Mine eyes might rest from this excessive glare ! 
 
 Light without love ! 'tis all the worldling finds, 
 A scorching sunshine on a barren strand ; 
 A flame that warms not even while it blinds. 
 And calls no flower from the thirsty land. 
 
 Light without love ! a knowledge void and vain, 
 That lacks the kindly dew to keep it green ; 
 No verdure nourished by the gracious rain 
 Decks with its daisy eyes the barren scene. 
 
36 THE SHADOW OF THE ROCK. 
 
 'Twas SO I mused, when came a whispered sound, 
 "Enter within the Eock; " and on my way 
 Amid the burning sands that stretched around 
 The sudden coolness of a shadow lay. 
 
 Before me was a mighty Eock, which threw 
 Up to the clouds its dark majestic crest ; 
 Within its clefts white starry blossoms grew, 
 And wild-birds went and came, and made their nest. 
 
 A lofty cave was there, wherein there strayed 
 Through tangled boughs a green refreshing light. 
 And, flickering on the wall, the shadows made 
 A pleasant dimness to my aching sight. 
 
 But oh ! what mystic beauty lay concealed 
 Within that twOight cave, so stiU and deep ! 
 The wandering sunbeams as I gazed, revealed 
 Things rich and rare where darkness seemed to sleep. 
 
 I saw within the Eocky Hollows gleam 
 The Dove's white plumage and her gentle eye. 
 And fairy lights from sparkling crystal stream 
 Into the depths where gems unnumbered lie. 
 
THE SHADOW OF THE ROCK. 3/ 
 
 Lord, Thy secret things are beauty still ! 
 And if we enter but within the Eock, 
 
 Thou with Thy light our blinded eyes wilt fill, 
 And hidden treasures to our gaze unlock. 
 
 1 ask not, then, to have the veil withdrawn 
 Which wraps our faith in deepest mystery. 
 The clouds will roll away before the dawn ; 
 Till then the stars' mild light sufficeth me. 
 
 I am content in dimness to abide, 
 And with the Dove to make my quiet nest 
 Within the hollow of Thy pierced side, 
 And there to live, and there to find my rest. 
 
STfje €xuz SoUtarg. 
 
 " In solitude she lived, 
 And in solitude built her nest." 
 
 (Spiritual Caniicle^ Stanza xxxv.) 
 
 I BUILT my nest in solitude, 
 
 I built it far away, 
 'Mid cliffs that rise above the sea, 
 
 Where scarce the wild goats stray. 
 
 There, hanging from the purple cliff, 
 The scented woodbine clings, 
 
 And o'er the tangled wilderness 
 Its perfumed treasures flings. 
 
 The cawing rooks above my head. 
 
 Below, the murmuring sea. 
 And busy in the scented thyme 
 
 The low hum of the bee ; 
 
 The stock-dove's melancholy note 
 From out her covert green — 
 
 These are the only sounds that break 
 The stillness of the scene. 
 
THE TRUE SOLITARY, 39 
 
 Here, then, beside the broad blue sea, 
 
 "Which stretches wide its arms, 
 I'll feed a solitary heart 
 
 With Nature's peerless charms. 
 
 And here, forgetful of the past, 
 
 Its fever and its strife, 
 I'll lean upon her quiet lap, 
 
 And rest my weary life. 
 
 Vain were the thought ! not Nature's sweets 
 
 Can yield the healing balm, 
 Restoring to the wounded heart 
 
 Its innocence and calm. 
 
 Not Nature's tenderest voice can soothe 
 
 The human spirit's fret. 
 Or charm to rest the haunted life 
 
 Of memory and regret. 
 
 Vainly we build the lofty nest 
 
 If self may still intrude ; 
 A silence more intense be mine, 
 
 A deeper solitude. 
 
40 THR TRUE SOLITARY. 
 
 Lead me into the wilderness, 
 From my own self apart ; 
 
 Lead me, Thou Master of my life, 
 And whisper to my heart. 
 
 In busy toU, in crowded ways. 
 If Thou art by my side, 
 
 Still into desert paths Thy hand 
 Shall surely, safely guide. 
 
 Thy Presence is the Wilderness : 
 Thy love, alone, supreme, 
 
 Lifts me aloft, and clothes my life 
 With beauty like a dream. 
 
 Thy voice within my listening heart 
 In hours of silence heard. 
 
 Is sweeter far than falling brooks, 
 Or song of woodland bird. 
 
 The freshness of the ocean winds 
 Fans not my fainting brows ; 
 
 I hear not, waving overhead. 
 The rustling of the boughs. 
 
THE TRUE SOLITARY. 4I 
 
 But oh, more gentle than the air 
 
 That stirs the aspen-trees, 
 Thy Spirit steals into my soul. 
 
 Like a soft, dewy breeze. 
 
 I miss the sunset's golden light 
 
 Upon the western hUl, 
 Earth's thousand magic melodies 
 
 Are silent all and stiU. 
 
 But Thou from off Thine Altar-Throne 
 
 Dost send a brighter ray 
 Than ever on the sunset-fields 
 
 In emerald glory lay. 
 
 Then let me buUd my solitude 
 
 Not in the rocky cave, 
 Not where the rose and eglantine 
 
 Their flowery tendrils wave ; 
 
 Nor where the floods lift up their voice. 
 Nor where the searbirds dwell, 
 
 And mountain winds sweep wildly past 
 My lonely hermit cell : 
 
42 THE TRUE SOLITARY. 
 
 But in the garden of Thy Love, 
 Fenced in from all beside, — 
 
 Wherever Thou dost choose my home, 
 So but Thy hand may guide. 
 
 So only from that fostering hand 
 
 My own be never freed, 
 Lead on into the wUdemess, 
 
 And I shall rest indeed ! 
 
OTiiat tije Soul ©estres. 
 
 There Thou wilt show me what my soul desired : 
 
 There Thou wilt give at once, O my Life, what Thou gavest me the other day I " 
 
 (Spiritual Canticle, Stanza xxxviii.) 
 
 Theke is a rapture that my soul desires, 
 There is a something that I cannot name ; 
 I know not after what my soul aspires, 
 Nor guess from whence the restless longing came ; 
 But ever from my childhood have I felt it, 
 In all things beautiful and all things gay, 
 And ever has its gentle, unseen presence 
 Fallen, like a shadow-cloud, across my way. 
 
 It is the melody of all sweet music. 
 In all fair forms it is the hidden grace ; 
 In all I love, a something that escapes me. 
 Flies my pursuit, and ever veils its face. 
 I see it in the woodland's summer beauty, 
 I hear it in the breathing of the air ; 
 I stretch my hands to feel for it, and grasp it, 
 But ah ! too well I know, it is not there. 
 
44 WHAT THE SOUL DESIRES. 
 
 In sunset-hours, when all the earth is golden, 
 And rosy clouds are hastening to the west, 
 I catch a waving gleam, and then 'tis vanished. 
 And the old longing once more fills my breast. 
 It is not pain, although the fire consumes me, 
 Bound up with memories of my happiest years ; 
 It steals into my deepest joys — mystery ! 
 It mingles, too, with all my saddest tears. 
 
 Once, only once, there rose the heavy curtain, 
 The clouds rolled back, and for too brief a space 
 I drank in joy as from a living fountain, 
 And seemed to gaze upon it, face to face : 
 But of that day and hour who shall venture 
 With lips untouched by seraph's fire to tell? 
 I saw Thee, my Life ! I heard, I touched Thee,i — 
 Then o'er my soul once more the darkness fell. 
 
 The darkness fell, and all the glory vanished ; 
 I strove to caU it back, but all in vain : 
 
 ' " Un jour, au detour d'une rue, dans un Beutier solitaire, on 
 s'arrSte, on ^ooute, et une voix nous dit dans la conscience : Voilk 
 J^suB Christ. Moment celeste, oil, aprfes tant de beaut^s qu'elle a 
 gout^es, et qui I'ont d^jue, I'd,me d^couvre d'un regard fixe la 
 beauts qui ne trompe pas ! On pent I'accuser d'etre un songe 
 quand on ne I'a pas vue ; mais oeux qui I'ont Tue ne peuvent plus 
 Toublier " (Lacordaire, Confirmees de Toulouse, p. 165). 
 
WHAT THE SOUL DESIRES. 45 
 
 rapture ! to have seen it for a moment ! 
 anguish ! that it never came again ! 
 That lightning-flash of joy that seemed eternal, 
 Was it indeed but wandering fancy's dream 1 
 Ah, surely no ! that day the heavens opened, 
 And on my soul there fell a golden gleam. 
 
 Thou, my Life, give me what then Thou gavest- ! 
 No angel vision do I ask to see, 
 
 1 seek no ecstacy of mystic rapture. 
 
 Nought, nought, my Lord, my Life, but only Thee ! 
 That golden gleam hath purged my sight, revealing. 
 In the fair ray reflected from above, 
 Thyself, beyond all sight, beyond all feeling. 
 The hidden Beauty, and the hidden Love. 
 
 As the hart panteth for the water-brooks. 
 
 And seeks the shades whence cooling fountains burst; 
 
 Even so for Thee, Lord, my spirit fainteth, 
 
 Thyself alone hath power to quench its thirst. 
 
 Give me what then Thou gavest, for I seek it 
 
 No longer in Thy creatures, as of old ; 
 
 I strive no more to grasp the empty shadow. 
 
 The secret of my life is found and told ! 
 
Wife Scardj for tJ)e Belobetj. 
 
 " In search of my Love 
 I will traverse mountains and strands." 
 
 [Spiritual Canticle, Stanza ilL) 
 
 Through the woods and o'er tlie mountains, 
 
 Seeking for my Love, I pass 
 Where the flocks at noontide gather, 
 
 Nestling in the cool, green grass ; 
 Where the flowers gleam like jewels. 
 
 Where the trees their branches bend, 
 Sadly, tearfully, I wander. 
 
 Seeking for my only Friend. 
 
 Sweetest blossoms, do not tempt me 
 
 With your fragrance to delay, 
 For I have no heart to loiter 
 
 In your rosy paths to-day ! 
 Gloomy woods, ye shall not daunt me 
 
 Where the wild beasts make their home ! 
 Nought can charm and nought appal me 
 
 While in search of Him I roam. 
 
THE SEARCH FOR THE BELOVED. 47 
 
 Forests which His hand has planted, 
 
 Through whose boughs the breezes sigh, 
 Verdant meads all gemmed with daisies, 
 
 Tell me, hath my Love passed by t 
 Surely where His step hath lingered, 
 
 Where His Presence has been seen. 
 There must breathe a sweeter fragrance. 
 
 There must glow a fresher green. 
 
 Then the branches stirred and whispered. 
 
 And a rustling music gave. 
 And I heard the wind pass onward, 
 
 And I saw the blossoms wave ; 
 Thousand sweetest voices answered — 
 
 Yes ! we saw Him pass this way. 
 Through the forest glades He hastened. 
 
 Early, at the break of day. 
 
 And the glance He cast in passing 
 
 Clothed us all with beauty new. 
 Decked the hills with greener verdure, 
 
 Gave the skies a deeper blue. 
 See ! His path is marked with flowers 
 
 That have sprung beneath His feet — 
 Mark you not their hues so brilliant, 
 
 And their scent, so strangely sweet? 
 
48 THE SEARCH FOR THE BELOVED. 
 
 Ah, my Jesus ! so they answer, 
 
 And Thy graces fain would tell, 
 Paint the sweetness of Thy Presence, 
 
 Which my poor heart knows so well. 
 But their voices sound like babMing,^ 
 
 It but adds a deeper woe, 
 For the rapture of Thy beauty 
 
 None can picture, none can know. 
 
 So I Uve as one not living 
 
 In a world all dead and cold. 
 Sighing for the longed-for hour 
 
 When His face I may behold : 
 Sighing for the day of freedom 
 
 When my chain shall be unbound, 
 And in ever-verdant pastures 
 
 At His Feet I may be found ! 
 
 1 " They leave me dying, 
 
 While they babble, I know not what." 
 
 (Spvi-itual Canticle, Stanza vii.) 
 
Jattij anU Sense. 
 
 " In secret, seen of none 
 Seeing nought myself." 
 
 (The Obscure Night, Stanza Hi.) 
 
 Complain not that thou canst not see 
 Or feel the touch of present grace ; 
 Wrapt in their robes of mystery, 
 Divinest Beauties shroud the face. 
 
 Or if the veil a moment part, 
 And yield to sense a rapturous view, 
 The joy which thriUs thy beating heart. 
 Judge thou, than faith, less pure, less true. 
 
 The sunbeams fall through richest glass 
 Yet pale and colourless appear. 
 If the pure air through which they pass 
 No veiling mist should chance to bear. 
 
 But let the incense-cloud arise, 
 And gently catch the jewelled sheen, 
 Each curling wreath before our eyes 
 Grows ruby red or emerald green. 
 
50 FAITH AND SENSE. 
 
 So, if thou prize the inwaxd flame, 
 The quickened pulse, the glistening eye, 
 'Tis well, — for love may fitly frame 
 Her speech to sudden ecstacy. 
 
 Yet on the soul from sense set free 
 The Hidden Grace sheds purer light ; 
 We need not ask to feel or see, 
 'Tis known by faith, and not by sight. 
 
 Unfelt the wings of angel friends, 
 Unheard their footsteps by the ear. 
 Unseen the form which o'er us bends 
 To guard or save, to warn or cheer. 
 
 Through day and night, like heavenly dew, 
 The Gift Divine descends on earth ; 
 We gather it and live, though few 
 The moments when we taste its worth. 
 
 But by a higher sense we know. 
 Or in unknowing tranquil rest ; 
 That light its tints may never show. 
 Faith sees them not, and owns it best. 
 
"When I went forth 
 Over all the plain, I knew nothing ; 
 And lost the flock I followed before." 
 
 {Spiritual Canticle, Stanza xxvi.) 
 
 There was a time when on the dewy hills 
 
 My sheep were wont to stray : 
 I watched and tended them, and at noonday 
 Led them to rest and drink at cooling rills. 
 
 My life was labour ; yet to me it seemed 
 
 Such work was best repose ; 
 Years ebbed away as yonder brooklet flows, 
 And of a sweeter life I never dreamed. 
 
 Then came a day when on the flowery mead, 
 
 Traced in the dew, I saw 
 A Footstep I had never seen before : 
 I followed it, and left my flock to feed. 
 
 Over the mountains and across the plains 
 
 I wandered on, and on ; 
 All memory of earth seemed past and gone ; 
 My cherished flock I never saw again. 
 
52 THE LOST FLOCK. 
 
 I souglit for Him whose footsteps had heen there 
 
 By wood and wave ; 
 On the wild heath, and in the shadowy cave, 
 I sought Him, murmuring ever, " Where, oh where ? " 
 
 And in the shadowy cave I heard a sound 
 
 That thrilled me like a dart ; 
 Thick came and went the pulses of my heart ; 
 My task was done, I sought, and I had found. 
 
 No mortal tones were those, so low and sweet. 
 
 Which called me by my name ; 
 Then knew I whence the wondrous accents came, 
 And entering in, I worshipped at His feet. 
 
 Ask me no longer why I wander here. 
 
 And why no more I'm seen 
 Feeding my flock beside the pastures green. 
 As was my wont through many a careless year. 
 
 And ask me not where I have left my sheep ; 
 
 I know no more 
 Of aU I knew, of all I loved before ; 
 My flocks and herds I never more shall keep. 
 
THE LOST FLOCK. S 3 
 
 In the old time, like other men, I strove 
 
 For honour and renown ; 
 Now, one to me the shepherd's staff, or crown ; 
 I labour still, but all my work is lore. 
 
 Vainly my comrades seek for me and call, 
 
 Tell them that I am lost ; ^ 
 I do not heed their cries, or count the cost ; 
 I lose myself, and yet I gain my all. 
 
 Within that cave I gave myself away, 
 
 I gave myself entire ; 
 I cast my heart into the altar-fire, 
 And to my Master gave myself away. 
 
 Nor do I seek to be again my own ; 
 
 For who more free 
 Than he whose chains are love ? Oh might I see 
 Those blessed chains more fast around me thrown ! 
 
 So o'er the barren moor and flowery mead 
 
 I wander still ; 
 I wander like a lost one o'er the hill, 
 And follow where those fairy Footsteps lead ! 
 
 ^ Stanza xxix 
 
11. 
 
 MlgCEX-tANEOU^ PoEMg. 
 
**Domine, Tu cognovisti omniat novissima et antiqua " (Ps. cxxxviii. s). 
 
 And said I that I ne'er should see again 
 The flock I loved so well 1 
 
 faithless words ! for now 'tis mine to tell 
 How all my foolish fears proved false and vain, 
 And all my fancied losses turned to gain. 
 
 Those cherished sheep, I left them on the hill, 
 
 And not without a tear ; 
 Forgive the folly ; even toil grows dear 
 To weary hearts that kaow not to be still. 
 And work to drive away the sense of ill. 
 
 Not without tears, then, did I turn away 
 
 From all I left behind — 
 But human tears do Uttle else than blind : 
 
 1 could not see what path before me lay, 
 Or guess the brightness of the coming day. 
 
58 THE FLOCK RESTORED. 
 
 I only knew that I must follow on 
 "Where'er those Footsteps led ; 
 My life and all its joys I counted dead, 
 And putting it away as past and done, 
 Pressed on until the weary goal were won. 
 
 And now that it is gained, and I am bound 
 
 Fast to the feet of Him 
 Whom I have followed with my eyes all dim 
 With foolish weeping, know that I have found 
 All things in Him, in whom all things abound. 
 
 All have come back, my loves, my hopes, my 
 joys; 
 I cast a golden grain 
 Into the earth, and lo it springs again. 
 And the rich harvest-fields give forth a voice, 
 "Eejoice, soul of mine ! once more rejoice." 
 
 It must be so, for there was One who said 
 
 The grain of wheat must die — 
 And then its golden ears would multiply ; 
 And so, when all my life lay cold and dead, 
 Out of the grave it raised its buried head. 
 
THE FLOCK RESTORED. 
 
 What had I left? Thou knowest, Lord, alone, 
 
 The deep things of the heart, 
 The things from which 'tis agony to part. 
 All that is most one's life, and most one's own j 
 The first and last to Thee, Lord, are known. 
 
 I left the thoughts, the hidden thoughts of 
 years — 
 A world whose shore 
 No foot of man had ventured to explore — 
 Unuttered to myself its hopes or fears, 
 A hidden world baptized in burning tears. 
 
 1 left some human hearts, most strongly tied 
 
 To mine, as chains will bind ; 
 Hearts noble, gentle, merciful, and kind ; 
 And when my own in parting anguish died, 
 I little dreamed its love had multiplied. 
 
 And now the long-lost flock is mine once more ; 
 
 For He who bids us leave 
 Whate'er is dear, and will not have us grieve. 
 Even while He takes our treasures, can restore 
 And give us back the hundred-fold and more. 
 
 59 
 
6o THE FLOCK RESTORED. 
 
 He gives Himself, gift beyond all price ! 
 
 The riclies of tlie earth, 
 Its loves and memories, are of scanty worth 
 When to the Altar-Throne we lift our eyes, 
 And see a Heart that lives in sacrifice. 
 
 A Heart which once I knew not, but which knew. 
 
 Its own poor erring sheep. 
 And loved it with a love tender and deep, 
 A love than mother's love more kind and true, 
 And the lost wanderer gently, firmly drew ; 
 
 Until it drew me home, and there I find 
 
 AH I have left and lost : 
 soul in error-paths long tempest-tossed ! 
 Cast all the rest upon the idle wind. 
 And thy poor bark unto its anchor bind. 
 
 He gives the former and the latter rain. 
 
 The rain of happy tears, 
 To water all the thoughts of bygone years ; 
 The seed was cast in sorrow and in pain. 
 But joy bears home its sheaves of golden grain ! 
 
S^nsiWe Steetmss. 
 
 A TINY stream, enriched by melting snows, 
 
 That yield to summer's touch their gracious tears, 
 
 Gathering upon its bosom as it flows 
 
 The seeds and relics of forgotten years. 
 
 Swells to a flood, which wider, deeper grows. 
 
 Deeper, but yet more calm, till comes the day 
 
 When the big waters rise, and sweep away 
 
 All landmarks that might tell from whence they rose. 
 
 Then lying on the meadows broad and stiU, 
 
 They glass all heaven on their tranquil face. 
 
 Drowning the parched soil with resistless grace. 
 
 That a new world with riches they may fill, 
 
 And melt the arid heart and mould the stubborn will 
 
62 SENSIBLE SWEETNESS. 
 
 II. 
 
 The flood abates, and gently ebbs away ; 
 
 Lost fields come forth, wliile Nature o'er tbe seen 
 
 Spreads her baptismal robe of freshest green, 
 
 With thousand new-born blossoms sweet and gay. 
 
 Too soon they fade beneath the scorching ray ; 
 
 Too soon the desert sand drifts o'er the plain. 
 
 The tender soil is trodden hard again, 
 
 And the old Wilderness resumes its sway. 
 
 Yet shall all be as though it ne'er had been 1 
 
 Shall we stand idly by the river's shore 
 
 With vain regrets, and memories deep and keen 
 
 Of heavenly sweetness that returns no more ? 
 
 Or with a nobler strength put forth our hand. 
 
 And cast the golden seed, and till the generous land 
 
 ni. 
 
 The joy is over, and the rapture fled — 
 Rise, then, to labour with heroic will ; 
 Thou hast beheld those royal waters fill 
 Each channel of a life once dry and dead, 
 And o'er its barren wastes new freshness shed : 
 
SENSIBLE SWEETNESS. 63 
 
 Count not the days too rapid or too few j 
 
 They passed away, that we our part might do. 
 
 Then forward, gallant heart, nor weakly dread 
 
 The weary task renewed, the noonday sun — 
 
 Cold winter, or sharp frost, or chilUng wind : 
 
 Cast coward fears away, nor look behind. 
 
 For now we know Him we awhile believed,^ 
 
 And, certain of the treasure once received. 
 
 We dare not shrink from work in His dear Love begun. 
 
 1 1 Tim. i. 12. 
 
Wijz Slalles at ^djor. 
 
 ' I will give her tlie Valley of Achor to be the opening of Hope, and shf 
 shall sing to me as in the days of her youth " (Osee ii. 15). 
 
 A DARKENED sky, a weary road to tread, 
 The chilling night-wind, and the driving rain, 
 No shelter where to lay our aching head. 
 No time to lose, for we the end must gain — 
 And all perchance too late, and all in vain ! 
 
 So long we've waited, hoped, believed ; and still 
 The same sad answer echoes as before ; 
 Then lift the Cross, and urge the languid will, 
 The only light that comes is evermore 
 God's hidden ways in darkness to adore. 
 
 Then comes the thought, " It is not so for all. 
 Others have days of sweetness and repose ; 
 Oh ! why on one so feeble should there fall 
 This heavy lot, which only heavier grows 
 As I plod on to my life's wished-for close." 
 
THE VALLEY OF ACHOR. 65 
 
 Courage, poor soul ! the gracious message hear ; 
 Not always in the darkness shalt thou grope, 
 Even now the welcome resting-place is near, 
 The shadowy branches and the verdant slope ; 
 I give thee Achor as a door of Hope ! 
 
 There resting on the dew-besprinkled lawn 
 The quiet calm shall all thy senses soothe, 
 And thou shalt sing as in Life's early dawn, 
 When the heart dreams of Beauty and of Truth, 
 Unfading Summer and Eternal youth. 
 
 The opening of Hope shall Achor bring ; 
 What though the pilgrim may not long remain % 
 Within his heart its memory shall spring, 
 And make the desert blossom once again, 
 Whispering, " All is not lost, all is not vain ! " 
 
I WOULD not always care to dwell 
 
 In pastoral scene or rural dell, 
 
 Where murmuring streams through flowers creep, 
 
 Lulling each manlier sense to sleep : 
 
 Not always would my weak heart dare 
 
 To loiter in a home so fair. 
 
 At times my spirit seems to yearn 
 For scenes more desolate and stern. 
 Some lone and mountain solitude 
 Where she may nurse a generous mood, 
 And brace herself 'neath colder skies 
 For more heroic victories. 
 
 Such desert grandeur met my sight 
 When, standing on the Tor's grey height, 
 I saw the sun set on a world 
 Of granite rocks, all wildly hurled, 
 As if by hand of Titan driven 
 Against the thunderbolts of heaven. 
 
DARTMOOR. 6j 
 
 No soft, voluptuous green was there, 
 Nought but the grey rock, sharp aud bare. 
 Fantastic fragments piled on high. 
 Terrific in their majesty ; 
 Methought the very sunset rays 
 With fires of Sinai seemed to blaze. 
 
 Drink in that scene, soul of mine ! 
 Nor let thy coward nature pine 
 For tranquil sea and leafy Combe, 
 Or the wild orchis' scented bloom ; 
 Wring out the sweetness from thy life, 
 And gird thy loins for nobler strife. 
 
 By rosy cot and vine-clad hill, 
 By greenwood glen and babbling rill. 
 Not always shall thy lot be cast ; 
 The penance-hour shall come at last. 
 And that weak heart must learn ere long 
 To taste the portion of the strong. 
 
 Nor shall the beauty all decay 
 Because thou tread'st a harder way ; 
 StiU o'er each stern and barren height 
 The sun shall shed his parting Ught, 
 
68 DARTMOOR. 
 
 And stars with gentle eye look down 
 As though they held the victor's crown. 
 
 Oh, shrink not from the passing throe ! 
 More pure, more calm thy life shall grow, 
 And kindly sweetness shall be found. 
 Like tufted thyme on rocky ground, 
 And lights between the clouds be given, 
 And tears, the very dew of heaven. 
 
 Content, O Lord, I ask no more. 
 Content to stand as this lone Tor, 
 To turn my back on day-dreams sweet. 
 The snow-drift and the blast to meet ; 
 My shadowy Eden to forget, 
 And quell each rising of regret. 
 
 I ask no more, but gladly bare 
 My forehead to the mountain air, 
 And welcome in its friendly breath 
 The hero's life, the hero's death ; 
 He gives, in answer to thy call. 
 Too poor a gift who gives not all. 
 
ILosg anil ®atn, 
 
 ' What things were gain to me, those I counted loss for Christ." 
 (Phil. iii. 7.) 
 
 I REMEMBER 
 
 A green valley by a sunny bay ; 
 
 How the birds sang there together 
 
 In the beautiful spring weather, 
 All through the livelong day ! 
 The long glades and the evening shades, 
 
 And the voices fuU of glee 
 Floating there on the balmy air, 
 
 How they all' come back to me ! 
 
 I remember 
 My own home in that fairy dell ; 
 
 The look of the dewy lawn 
 
 In the Ught of an early dawn, 
 I mind it all so well ! 
 And still in my ear I seem to hear 
 
 The wind in the old fir-tree, 
 The sounds from the shore, and the dipping oar. 
 
 And the murmur of the sea ! 
 
70 LOSS AND GAIN. 
 
 I remember 
 The church-tower so tall and grey, — 
 
 There it is standing still 
 
 On the brow of its wooded hill, 
 You may see it for miles away : 
 The Sunday chimes in those olden times, 
 
 What a merry sound they bore ! 
 As they came on the breeze through the sweet 
 lime-trees — 
 
 I never shall hear them more ! 
 
 I remember 
 A green field in a shady lane : 
 
 All through the April day 
 
 How I watched the lambs at play. 
 As they never will play again ! 
 There the violets grew of a deeper blue, 
 
 And gave a more rich perfume. 
 And it seems to me that I never shall see 
 
 Such a beautiful hawthorn bloom. 
 
 I remember 
 The long walks on the lonely down ; 
 
 How sweetly the wind used to pass 
 
 Over the whistling grass, 
 And the gorse with its golden crown ! 
 
LOSS AND GAIN. "] I 
 
 Wild and free as the tossing sea, 
 
 My chUd's heart frolicked there ; 
 Ah, could I now but feel on my brow 
 
 The rush of that joyous air ! 
 
 I remember 
 Voices so sweet and low ; 
 
 There was one each morning came 
 
 With its dear familiar name, 
 But it never calls me now : 
 The fireside blaze in those childish days, 
 
 It was all the world to me, 
 And whatever befell it seemed to go well 
 
 When I sat by my mother's knee. 
 
 I remember 
 Dear friends who are dead and gone ; 
 
 The true, the loving-hearted, 
 
 They one by one departed. 
 And left me, sitting alone. 
 
 Now the long grass waves o'er their quiet 
 graves. 
 
 And I think that I do not repine. 
 But I wish each day, as it passes away, 
 
 That the daisies were growing on mine. 
 
72 LOSS AND GAIN. 
 
 So I heard a sad man sing 
 
 As he thought of bygone times ; 
 And many a tear did he shed the while 
 
 As he strung his idle rhymes. 
 Happy and gay th^ bright earth lay, 
 
 But to him it was darkness all, 
 On the track of the past where his eyes were 
 cast 
 
 Lay a shadowy funeral pall. 
 
 Then there came, 
 Over the fields and over the woods, 
 From the murmuring sea and the rippling 
 
 floods, 
 From the tranquil depths of the summer sky, 
 "Was it a voice, or a whispered sigh % 
 
 And it called him by his name. 
 " fond and foolish one ! " it said, 
 " Lingering still with the days that are 
 dead. 
 
 Why dost thou loiter here ? 
 Count up thy losses and thy gains, 
 Thy spring is past, thy summer wanes, 
 But golden autumn yet remains. 
 
 The crown of all the year. 
 
LOSS AND GAIN. 73 
 
 Thou hast lost what can never return, 
 A handful of crumbling earth : 
 Oh what was its weight and worth. 
 Thus to make thy poor heart yearn i 
 The manly soul — the courage high, 
 The firm resolve to do and die 
 
 For Truth and Eight, 
 Be thine, then fix thy steadfast eye 
 Upon the light. 
 
 Count up thy loss and thy gain : 
 Thou hast lost the joys of thy youth ; 
 Thou hast grasped th' eternal truth ; 
 Oh, why shouldst thou reckon the pain ? 
 Knowest thou, weeper ! where thou art ? 
 The morning dawns, the shadows part 
 
 And flee away : 
 Lift up thine eyes, lift up thy heart, 
 Child of the Day ! 
 
 Thou hast wielded the victor's brand ; 
 A pilgrim, weary and grey. 
 Thou hast fought thy bloody way, 
 
 And hast reached the promised land. 
 
74 J^OSS AND GAIN. 
 
 Thy wandering footsteps stand no more 
 Upon the Eed Sea's sandy shore, 
 
 But on the Rock 
 Which neither fears the wild waves' roar, 
 
 Nor tempest's shock 
 
 Thou hast lost what the world holds dear ; 
 Ah, well for thee that it died ! 
 Fold it up and put it aside, 
 And weep for it never a tear. 
 empty heart ! weary breast ! 
 Never below shalt thou make thy nest. 
 
 It must not be : 
 The human home, the earthly rest 
 Is not for thee ! 
 
 But oh ! what hast thou won ■? 
 A love that is ever pure, 
 A love that shall aye endure 
 When the sands of life are run : 
 Then, mourner, from the dust arise ! 
 Thine are no fragile, earthborn ties 
 
 Which part and sever. 
 But Love Divine, which never dies, 
 Is thine for ever ! 
 
a Mmtnt 
 
 Float on, ye white clouds, to the western sky, 
 
 Till by the sun 
 Your goal is gained, your trackless course is run : 
 Ye have done well ; alas ! 'tis only I 
 Who wander in the world, I know not why. 
 
 Fall, gently fall, sweet raindrops, to the earth ; 
 
 There sink, and give 
 The sap which makes each tiny blade to live ; 
 Then rise again in morning's dewy birth. 
 Ah that my life but counted equal worth ! 
 
 Drop, withered leaves, past is your summer reign, 
 
 Drop, sere and red. 
 That men with careless feet may crush and tread 
 Your faded pride ; what then 1 though autumns wane, 
 From your rich soil green woods shall wave again. 
 
 Sweep on, wild winds, I know not whence you blow. 
 
 Nor know I where 
 In haughty haste your eagle pinions bear 
 
76 A LAMENT. 
 
 God's message, hurrying ever to and fro ; 
 Would that my breath were spent but even so ! 
 
 distant stars ! I know not why you shine 
 
 Beauteous and far ; 
 The orbfed eyes of heaven ye surely are ; 
 Some royal law your paths doth intertwine ; 
 Oh that a Master's hand were laid on mine ! 
 
 So speaks my soul, when, struggling in the dark, 
 
 It turns to gaze 
 Upon its own poor life, its works and ways, 
 And sees no aim fulfilled, no guiding spark ; 
 It only feels that it has missed its mark. 
 
 Eternal Lord, I stretch forth unto Thee 
 
 These useless hands ; 
 Thou dost mete out the ever-flowing sands 
 Of days and hours — oh, how fast they flee ! 
 Make Thou my life a nobler thing to be ! 
 
 Must I for ever stand and idly wait, 
 
 Uncalled, unhired. 
 While time ebbs on, and heart and brain grow tired ? 
 Didst Thou but know how weary is the fate 
 To loiter through the day, early and late ! 
 
A LAMENT. 7/ 
 
 Oh, make me not ashamed that leaf or flower 
 
 Should bloom and fade, 
 As though their lives for worthier ends were made ; 
 Hast Thou no better gift, no richer dower, 
 Than Nature sheds abroad on bee or bower ? 
 
 Cease, cease, those sullen words ! our moments lie 
 
 Before His gaze 
 Who all our life in equal balance weighs ; 
 What though on fevered couch enchained we lie f 
 Our silent throbs send forth their piercing cry. 
 
 For thee, not for thy labour, doth He care ; 
 
 Stand then, and see 
 Each workman to the vineyard called but thee ; 
 Stand and endure the noontide's scorching glare, 
 Dost thou not still His badge of service wear ? 
 
 Lord, unto my folly be Thou kind ; 
 
 With folded hand. 
 If such Thy will, here will I all day stand, 
 Unused and useless, poor and weak and blind. 
 Content in loving Thee my end to find. 
 
 Content that all my pride should bleed away. 
 
 And as a dream 
 In the world's eye my empty life should seem ; 
 
78 A LAMENT. 
 
 Content until the closing of tke day- 
 Here in my place all patiently to stay. 
 
 So casting all my being on the tide 
 
 Of Thy dear love, 
 Beseems this drooping heart to beat and move : 
 My little stream of life grows full and wide, 
 As onward to the deep its worthless wavelets glide. 
 
" For the fig-tree shall not blossom, and there shall he no spring in the vines 
 . . . But I will rejoice in the Lord, I will joy in God my Jesus." 
 
 — iHab. iii. 17, 18.) 
 
 The fig-tree may not blossom, 
 
 And the vines may have lost their spring ; 
 
 The corn shall wax pale, 
 
 And the olive fail, 
 Silent the sound of the busy flail, 
 For no sheaves the reapers bring. 
 
 The fields shall be all left barren. 
 And the orchards shall bear no fruit ; 
 
 No flock shall be seen 
 
 On the hill-side green, 
 No cattle over the waters lean. 
 And the grass shall wither at root. 
 
 Yea, the world may grow waste and desert. 
 And the very sunshine fade ; 
 
 All, all may depart. 
 
 But the loving heart 
 
So CONFIDENCE. 
 
 From her true anchor will not start, 
 Her trust that is ne'er betrayed. 
 
 I rejoice in God my Father, 
 He is all the world to me ; 
 
 But 'tis mine to claim 
 
 By a sweeter name 
 The Love that for ever abides the same 
 Through the years of eternity. 
 
 I rejoice in the God who made me. 
 But in Thee, Jesus ! I find 
 
 A joy more sweet 
 
 And the tie complete, 
 Where God and man together meet, 
 And heaven with earth is twined. 
 
 Then as a Conqueror lead me, 
 O'er the craggy rocks I'll spring ; 
 
 Fearless and strong. 
 
 As we move along 
 Sweet fragments of triumphant song 
 Together we will sing ! ^ 
 
 ' " He, the Conqueror, will lead me upon high places, singing 
 psalms." — (fiaJ. iii. 19.) 
 
WuisitS. 
 
 Were I but a nymph or fairy, 
 
 Full of whims and fancy-free, 
 Of all forms in which to hide me 
 
 I would fain a daisy be : 
 Ever fresh on lawn or meadow, 
 
 Ready with its smile to greet 
 Rain or sunshine, bird or dewdrop. 
 
 Or the tread of human feet. 
 
 AH through life to us poor mortals 
 
 Faithful friends the daisies are ; 
 Children on the green grass playing 
 
 Hail their bright eyes as a star. 
 Decked with chains of daisy-blossoms 
 
 Up and down they go like kings, 
 Call its golden eyes their money. 
 
 Cast abroad its silver wings. 
 
82 DAISIES. 
 
 Older grown, upon the green turf 
 
 Many a measure light they tread, 
 Ah ! so light, the friendly daisy 
 
 Lifts unhurt its little head : 
 Days of music and of beauty, 
 
 With a golden halo bright ; 
 How could hearts so gay and happy 
 
 Fail to tread with footstep light ? 
 
 Heavier soon that footstep presses, 
 
 Oh the weary, weary day ! 
 What to them the smile of April ? 
 
 What to them the bloom of May ? 
 'Neath the hawthorn in the meadow 
 
 They would fling them down and die ; 
 In the turf that cools their forehead 
 
 Greets them still the daisy's eye. 
 
 Like a friend it cheers and soothes them. 
 
 Brings their childhood back again, 
 Tni upon the daisy-blossoms 
 
 Fall their tears like welcome rain. 
 Lowly lessons has it whispered. 
 
 Smoothing still the sullen frown ; 
 Not for sorrow or for anguish. 
 
 Must we lay our burden down. 
 
DAISIES. 83 
 
 Life rolls on, and ever onward, 
 
 All things round them fleet and change ; 
 Home and childhood both have vanished, 
 
 They are old, and all is strange ; 
 Only in the early spring-time 
 
 One familiar sight they see, 
 On the lawn the starry daisy 
 
 Bright as it was wont to be. 
 
 Life rolls on, and ever onward, 
 
 Friendly death has come at last ; 
 Weep not, for indeed 'twas welcome. 
 
 And with sign of faith they passed. 
 With the Church's prayers and blessings 
 
 Laid to rest in holy ground. 
 All of earth their mem'ry keeping 
 
 Is one little daisied mound. 
 
 O ye daisies ! well you teach us 
 
 Friendship's holy debt to pay, 
 'Neath the mower's footstep springing, 
 
 Growing by the common way : 
 Moralists would fain persuade us 
 
 Kindly hearts are few and rare ; 
 Never can I learn the lesson, 
 
 For I find them everywhere. 
 
84 DAISIES. 
 
 Up and down our pathway scattered, 
 
 Like the daisies, do they lie ; 
 We need only glance around us 
 
 Would we meet their friendly eye. 
 Pride indeed may overlook them. 
 
 Cold contempt may turn aside. 
 But, believe me, daisies ever 
 
 In the grass their blossoms hide. 
 
 Childlike hands will seek and find them, 
 
 Childlike hearts the treasure prize ; 
 Never wUl they scorn the welcome 
 
 Which they read in daisy eyes. 
 Smile not ; could I choose my calling, 
 
 Nothing sweeter could I see 
 Than to all sad hearts and lonely 
 
 Might I like the daisy be ! 
 
" I bring you good tidings of great joy." — {Luke ii. lo.) 
 
 There are who call this life of ours 
 
 A dark and tearful thing, 
 Where joy but flutters on the flowers, 
 
 And then again takes wing : 
 Where every image Fancy weaves 
 
 Must savour still of pain, 
 Beauteous as autumn's dying leaves, 
 
 Or music's sad sweet strain. 
 
 To Nature it must needs be so. 
 
 Her charms are but decay, 
 And all her joys like wind-flowers blow. 
 
 Borne by the breeze away ; 
 And Art but copies Nature's moods, 
 
 And makes her choicest theme 
 The griefs o'er which the poet broods ; — 
 
 The joys we only dream. 
 
86 HOLY JOY. 
 
 Far different are the ways of Grace, 
 
 She cares not to deny 
 That earth is but a weary place 
 
 Where sinners weep and die ; 
 But yet she knows a secret way 
 
 To draw out good from ill, 
 And vessels framed of fragile clay 
 
 At joy's sweet fount to fill. 
 
 She reads aright the words of life 
 
 By Christ's apostle given — 
 " Leave to the world its woful strife, 
 
 Joy marks the heirs of heaven ; ^ 
 For what though chastening seems to grieve,^ 
 
 And fainting flesh grows weak ? 
 To hearts that, seeing not, believe, 
 
 Come joys they dare not speak." ^ 
 
 When Angels walked the world with men, 
 Joy was the gift they brought. 
 
 ' " The fruit of the Spirit is joy."— (ffaZ. v. 22.) 
 
 "^ " No chastisement for the present Beemeth to bring with it 
 joy." — {Heb. xii. 11.) 
 
 ' "Believing, ye shall rejoice with an unspeakable joy." — (1 Ptt. 
 i. 8.) 
 
HOLY JOY. 87 
 
 And stricken souls from Eaphael's lips 
 
 The heavenly accents caught : ^ 
 The very pledge they seem of all 
 
 For which our sad hearts pine ; 
 It must not, shall not pass away, 
 
 " Joy shall be ever thine." ^ 
 
 When in old time the Prophets woke 
 
 Their highest, sweetest strain. 
 And sang the glories of the Church, 
 
 And her triumphant reign. 
 One accent on their lyre hung. 
 
 Not victory, nor power, 
 But everlasting joy they sang,* 
 
 The Church's double dower. 
 
 Sion, city of the Lord ! 
 
 They hailed thy second birth. 
 And named thee in prophetic word 
 
 The joy of all the earth ; * 
 
 1 " Father, he brought joy ! " — (Tobias xii. 3.) 
 " " Joy be ever with thee."— (Ibid. v. 11.) 
 
 ^ " They shall receive double. . . . Everlaatiug joy shall be unto 
 them."— (/«o. Ixi. 7.) 
 
 * " With the joy of the whole earth is Mount Sion founded." 
 — {Ps. xlvii. 2.) " The city of perfect beauty — the joy of the whole 
 earth." — {Lam. vi. 15.) 
 
88 HOLY JOY. 
 
 And still in dream and vision found, 
 
 They saw the coming year, 
 When souls with joy's sweet garland crowned,^ 
 
 Should wipe each wistful tear. 
 
 It comes at last, the wondrous day, 
 
 When God in human form 
 Bids demons tremble and obey, 
 
 And rules the rising storm ; 
 How shall we bear His awful word — 
 
 " Think not 'tis peace I send, 
 But fire rather, and the sword 
 
 Which severs friend from friend " ? ^ 
 
 Yet mingling with that sterner voice, 
 
 A sweeter hope is given, — 
 " When men shall hate, do ye rejoice. 
 
 Great is your joy in heaven."^ 
 The Man of Sorrows is His Name ; 
 
 But yet from first to last 
 Joy, pressing still with gentle claim. 
 
 Her golden thread hath passed. 
 
 1 "Everlasting joy shall be upon their heads." — {Isa. xxxv. 10.) 
 - " I came not to send peace, but the sword." — {Matt. x. 34.) 
 s "Be glad and rejoice, for great is your reward in heaven." 
 —{LTihe vi. 23.) 
 
HOLY JOY. 89 
 
 For even His unborn presence brought 
 
 A joy 1 so sweet and strange, 
 That in the Baptist's soul it wrought 
 
 A sanctifying change : 
 Nor marvel as though Grrace had here 
 
 Forgot her royal rule ; 
 Where Mary and her Babe appear, 
 
 Both joy and grace are full. 
 
 His Passion-hour draws on, and still 
 
 We catch the selfsame strain, 
 " Let joy each fainting spirit fiU,^ 
 
 I go and come again." 
 Parted from Him their gracious Friend, 
 
 Their full hearts must not break, 
 " I will be with you to the end, 
 
 Your joy shall no man take." ^ 
 
 Life passes : and before us roll. 
 
 The judgment clouds away ; 
 What words are these that greet the soul 
 
 As dawns the Eternal Day ? 
 
 ' " The Infant leaped for joy." — {Luke i. 44.) 
 8 " These things have I spoken, that My Joy may be in you, and 
 your joy may be filled." — (John xv. 11.) 
 ^ " Your joy no man taketh from you." — {John xvi. 22.) 
 
90 HOLY JOY. 
 
 " Thou hast done well ; my Father's home, 
 
 No staining tears alloy, 
 Because thou hast been faithful, come 
 
 And enter into joy ! " ^ 
 
 Ah, Lord ! I seek that blessed track, 
 
 But the heart's soundless deep 
 Gives the same hollow echo back, 
 
 And leaves us still to weep. 
 To pleasure's hall, and wisdom's cave, 
 
 Still seeking have I gone, 
 Till Holy Church the answer gave — 
 
 " Thy joy is God alone." 2 
 
 Well may the blessed Easter sun 
 
 In Paschal glory shine, ^ 
 The darksome hours are past and gone, 
 
 The Paschal joys are mine. 
 
 1 " Enter thou into the joy of thy Lord." — [Matt. xxv. 21.) 
 ' " In Christe nostrum gaudium." 
 
 {Asccnsion-'Day, Hymn for Lauds.) 
 ' " Clare Paschali gaudio 
 Sol mundo nitet radio." 
 
 {Paschal Hymn for Lavds.) 
 
HOLY JOY. 91 
 
 Where should we lift our weeping eyes 
 
 But only unto Thee, 
 That Thou who art our future prize 
 
 Our present Joy mayest be ? ^ 
 
 ^ " Tu esto nostrum gaudium 
 Qui es futurus prsemium ! " 
 
 (Ascension-Day, Hymn for Vespers.) 
 
3Stsa|ipointment. 
 
 AN EPITAPH. 
 
 Stranger ! wouldst thou know 
 Whose dust unhonoured moulders here below ? 
 His was no scutcheon of emblazoned pride, 
 Ask not his name, enough he lived and died. 
 
 His life was vanity : 
 Swift as the rippling tide it floated by ; 
 Its beauty was the beauty of a dream. 
 He gathered flowers to cast them in the stream. 
 
 He won no victor's crown, 
 In Life's fierce combat early smitten down. 
 The tramp of hurrying crowds swept o'er his head, 
 And left him lying there among the dead. 
 
 How could he win the prize f 
 Men counted him as feeble and unwise ; 
 They said he failed in all he had to do, 
 He bowed his head, and meekly owned it true. 
 
DISAPPOINTMENT. 93 
 
 He knew it must be so : 
 Some hearts for chorus-tones are pitched too low ; 
 The strings of his had borne too tight a strain, 
 At the first chord he struck they snapped in twain. 
 
 Dost thou despise him, friend ? 
 Know that each soul is born for its own end ; 
 Nor is success the standard, for in heaven 
 A double bliss to broken hearts is given. 
 
 To broken hearts, that lean 
 As he did on the Arm of the Unseen, 
 And there abiding, patiently and still. 
 Let the sharp arrows pierce them as they will. 
 
 Defeated, yet resigned, 
 The patient heart that Jacked the master-mind. 
 To such as him, what boon had earth to give ? 
 He lived to suffer, and he died to live. 
 
3osu0. 
 
 O'ER Moab's plains, where roll 
 The dark, deep waves of Jordan's southern flood, 
 Lonely and sad the Chief of Israel stood, 
 And to the God of armies poured his soul. 
 
 Lonely, — for e'er the sun 
 On Nebo's top had shed its parting ray, 
 The Prophet of the Lord had passed away, 
 And left him there with Canaan yet unwon. 
 
 There to the West it lies ; 
 He sees the Land with milk and honey flowing, 
 With cornfields and rich olive-gardens glowing. 
 And giant cities fenced up to the skies. 
 
 He gazes on the stream 
 Through which 'twas his to lead the Hosts of God 
 To lead where foot of man hath never trod. 
 And scale those haughty walls that yonder gleam. 
 
josuE. 95 
 
 " For me — is this for me % 
 Lord God of Israel, I am but a child ; 
 The hand that led me through this desert wild 
 For forty years, I never more shall see. 
 
 " I am not like to him : 
 Not mine the hero's strength, the mighty will, 
 The heart whose pulse of love was never still, 
 The quenchless eye not even death could dim.' 
 
 " No more I hear him speak. 
 My heart is fuU of memories gone for ever ; 
 That silver cord, I've watched it part and sever. 
 And I am but a child, alone and weak." 
 
 Weep on awhile, brave heart ! 
 Nor let thy manhood blush to shed such tears ; 
 Loyal hath been thy. love of many years. 
 And love is strong, and it is hard to part. 
 
 But thou art not alone, 
 Mightier than Moses is the Almighty Friend 
 Who o'er thy life unseen shall henceforth bend. 
 And lead thee still, a little further on. 
 
 1 Deut. xxxiv. 7. 
 
96 yosuE. 
 
 Let not thy bruised heart break ; 
 Trust on beneath the shadow of His wing ; 
 For in thine ear the thrice-told accents ring 
 " My love shall never leave thee, nor forsake." 1 
 
 " For ever by thy side, 
 As once with Moses, I will be with thee ; 
 My arm shall hold thee up, and thou shalt see 
 Before thy feet the angry floods divide. 
 
 " Say not that thou art weak. 
 Nor let thy heart to coward faintness yield. 
 For am I not thy refuge and thy shield 1 
 In Me thy strength, thy hope, thy comfort seek. 
 
 " I will be with thee still : 
 For think not, dream not that My gifts require 
 The force of human strength, the heart of fire. 
 The arm of flesh, the dauntless, iron will. 
 
 " Far oftener they belong 
 To those who all their strength in weakness find, 
 Then lift thine heart, nor cast one glance behind. 
 But hear the gracious words, 'Be strong, be strong.'^ 
 
 1 Deut. xixi. 3. 2 Josh. i. 6-9. 
 
, yosuE. 97 
 
 " Fear not, for I will send 
 Another hand thy trembling steps to guide, 
 And thou shalt hear for ever at thy side 
 The rustling pinions of an angel friend. 
 
 " See'st thou his gleaming sword ? 
 Faithful he stood when others fell away, 
 And thousands now his princely rule obey — 
 The Captain of the armies of the Lord." ^ 
 
 Then Josue bent the knee, 
 And veiled his face, not daring to behold ; 
 He felt those angel wings around him fold, 
 And the old words came faltering, "This for me/" 
 
 He knelt and kissed the sod. 
 The land which he must conquer with his sword, 
 Then rose, nor doubted the Almighty word. 
 For to his heart had passed the Strength of God. 
 
 ' Josh. V. 14. According to the note in the Douay Bible, this 
 angel is interpreted to be St Michael. 
 
footprints. 
 
 How beautiful upon the mountains are the feet 
 Of them who to sad hearts good tidings bring ! 
 How beautiful and sweet 
 The Aves that they sing ! 
 
 Through the white almond-trees I see them come, 
 The leafless almonds, that on every slope 
 
 Put forth their snowy bloom, 
 As though t6 bid us hope ! 
 
 How beautiful they stand ! So Raphael seemed 
 When young Tobias saw him by his side ; 
 As yet men had not dreamed 
 Of such an angel guide. 
 
 So Mary rose, and, hastening o'er the hUls, 
 That gracious voice sounds in her cousin's ear ; 
 What saintly rapture fills 
 Their hearts as she draws near ! 
 
FOOTPRINTS. 99 
 
 So shepherds on the mountains watched by night, 
 When angels came and sang "A Child is born !" 
 
 How beautiful that sight ! 
 
 More beautiful than dawn. 
 
 With weary feet One sat beside a well, 
 And to a sinner opened living springs ; 
 
 How could He read and tell 
 Her sad and hidden things ? 
 
 As two disciples walked at eventide, 
 They met a Stranger whom they urged to stay ; 
 He spoke of One who died, 
 And calmed their grief away. 
 
 messengers of peace ! I fain would catch 
 The words of love with which you ever greet 
 The hearts that stand and watch 
 The coming of your feet ! 
 
 Teach me, and o'er the mountains I will speed 
 Bringing good tidings wheresoe'er I go, 
 I wiU not pause or heed 
 The thorns that pierce me through. 
 
lOO FOOTPRINTS. 
 
 Do I not see o'er all tlie hilly land 
 His ruddy path who first those tidings bore ? 
 Would that my feet might stand 
 Where His have gone before ! 
 
 For me they bled, for me all weary trod 
 The sharp, steep rocks of cruel Calvary ; 
 The Footsteps of a God 
 Traced in His Blood I see ! 
 
 Once more He stands upon a mountain high. 
 And the last words of farewell have been said ; 
 A white cloud in the sky 
 Hovers above His Head. 
 
 They kneel and kiss His feet, then see Him rise 
 Through the serenest depths of that blue air ; 
 
 The cloud comes o'er their eyes,— 
 His Footprints still are there ! 
 
 Thrice-blessed prints ! Oh, leave them in my heart 
 Wilt Thou no more Thy sacred Presence show ? 
 
 Oh, why must Thou depart ! 
 
 I will not let Thee go ! 
 
FOOTPRINTS. lOI 
 
 Nay, stand not gazing here : have ye not heard 
 The charge which they who love Me must fulfil ? 
 
 Go forth and preacli My word, 
 
 I will be with you still. 
 
 Go forth into a world of sin and pain, 
 And leave your beautiful footprints far and near ; 
 Then when I come again 
 My welcome you shall hear. 
 
©llr Eljouflfjts in Ferse. 
 
 ' Amor meus, pondus meum." — {St Augustine^ 
 
 The steel to the magnet, 
 The stream to the sea, 
 
 My heart to its centre, 
 Jesus ! in Thee. 
 
 For this Thou hast made us, 
 And thither we tend ; 
 
 No rest till we find Thee, 
 Our rest and our end. 
 
 Beauty Eternal ! 
 
 And art Thou mine own ? 
 Too late have I loved Thee, 
 
 Too late have I known ! 
 
 As the eye for its vision, 
 For hearing the ear. 
 
 So the heart Thou hast fitted 
 With Love for its sphere. 
 
OLD THOUGHTS IN VERSE. 103 
 
 I sought it in wisdom, 
 
 I sought it in joy ; 
 All science but wearies, 
 
 All pleasures but cloy. 
 
 Our days are but sorrow, 
 
 Our nights but unrest. 
 Seeking on, yet not finding 
 
 The highest and best. 
 
 I roam o'er the mountain, 
 
 I roam through the dale ; 
 With a seal on joy's fountain. 
 
 What beauties avail 1 
 
 In the field and the garden, 
 
 'Mid greenwoods and trees. 
 Still bear I this burden 
 
 Which nothing will ease. 
 
 Still longing for something 
 
 Which never is found, — 
 StUl pierced with an anguish, — 
 
 Still hiding my wound. 
 
104 OLD THOUGHTS IN VERSE. 
 
 Full fain would I soothe it 
 As other men do, 
 
 But life is too empty, 
 And love is too true. 
 
 The world is too narrow, 
 Our hearts are too great ; 
 
 On, on to my centre 
 With Love for my weight ! 
 
©uc in ^Itum* 
 
 The hour is come, the break of day 
 
 So calm and briglit ; 
 Fear not thy bark to launch away, 
 
 All will be right ! 
 Fear not the mighty deep to sound, 
 Or loose the cords that held thee bound. 
 The sail is set, the Pilot found, 
 All will be right ! 
 
 Too sweet it were to linger still 
 By that green shore ; 
 
 Our bark beneath the shadowy hill 
 Must rest no more. 
 
 Yet all is right, for He is here 
 
 Whose Voice the stormiest billows fear ; 
 
 His Master hand the helm will steer, 
 We ask no more ! 
 
I06 DUC IN ALTUM. 
 
 What though for weary nights and days 
 
 We've toiled in vain, 
 The anchor at His word we'll raise, 
 
 And try again : 
 With manly hearts forget the past, 
 And launch into the deep, to cast 
 The net by His sweet Cross made fast 
 Yet once again. 
 
 Lord, we believe ; the sail is set, 
 Lead Thou the way ; 
 
 No ties of earth, no fond regret 
 
 Our course shall stay : 
 
 To souls that love Thee all is right ; 
 
 Though dark and long the hours of night. 
 
 To humble souls God sends the light,i 
 And makes it Day ! 
 
 ^ La lumifere vient k qui se soumet (Lacorimri). 
 
W^t Ecc-jRotoer on Jlont Cents, 
 
 Where the snow lies deepest, 
 
 By the frozen lake, 
 There the lovely ice-flow'r 
 
 Doth her station take ; 
 Spreading wide her mantle 
 
 Of delicious blue, 
 Not the midnight heavens 
 
 Boast a deeper hue. 
 
 I had climbed the mountain. 
 
 Leaving with a sigh 
 Chestnut woods and vineyards, 
 
 And a southern sky; 
 Matchless charms resigning, 
 
 Nevermore to see. 
 When, with sweet surprisal, 
 
 Fell my eyes on thee. 
 
I08 THE ICE-FLOWBE ON MONT CENIS. 
 
 Strange thy choice, bright flower, 
 
 Thus 'mid ice to bloom, 
 Shedding life and gladness 
 
 Here, where all is gloom : 
 Had the earth no hedgerow. 
 
 Garden or parterre, 
 Warmer, kindlier shelter 
 
 For a thing so fair ? 
 
 Did no sunbeams linger 
 
 In the vale below ? 
 Seemed their shining brighter 
 
 Here, amid the snow ? 
 Or, with lavish sweetness, 
 
 Wouldst thou fling thy store 
 Like a royal giver 
 
 At the poorest door ? 
 
 Dear to me our meeting, 
 
 And the thoughts it brings, 
 Memories and fancies, 
 
 Sweet imaginings ; 
 Pictures of a friendship 
 
 Not in thoughtless youth. 
 But in sadder manhood 
 
 When we love in truth. 
 
THE ICE-FLOWER ON MONT CENIS. IO9 
 
 Deeper and intenser 
 
 Aie the ties that bind 
 Hearts, whom kindred natures 
 
 Late have chanced to find : 
 Life, it may be, waning, 
 
 Youth long past, — when lo ! 
 One last, precious blossom 
 
 Greets us from the snow. 
 
 In the Eock fast rooted 
 
 It hath found its stay ; 
 Mortal hand shall never 
 
 Tear those roots away : 
 Still through frost and tempest 
 
 It will yield its bloom. 
 And its choicest beauty 
 
 Wreathe around the tomb. 
 
^n ^pril Bag. 
 
 Oh, Earth ! thy smile is all too sweet ; 
 
 Oh, World ! thou art too bright ; 
 Over our fields the April sun 
 
 Pours too intense a Hght. 
 
 The hues that steal o'er bank and brake, 
 
 So exquisitely fair, 
 The rippUng of the merry stream, 
 
 The voices in the air ; 
 
 The dreamy scents that come and go. 
 
 The daisy in the grass. 
 The shadows of the fleecy clouds 
 
 As o'er the hills they pass ; 
 
 Too full of beauty are they all. 
 Too high a strain they wake ; 
 
 The heart that soars to grasp the joy 
 Feels that its chords must break. 
 
AN APRIL DAY. Ill 
 
 Why does the memory of old days, 
 
 Old happy days gone by, 
 Come o'er us like a wave, and bring 
 
 This dimness to the eye ? 
 
 The shadowy lawn, the lilac boughs 
 
 With bright laburnums blent : 
 The mower's scythe, the beehives' hum. 
 
 The sweet syringa scent ; 
 
 The garden-beds beneath the wall, 
 
 With crocus borders gay. 
 Another garden call to mind 
 
 Where I was wont to play. 
 
 And wandering through those pleasant walks 
 
 A childish fancy dreams 
 Of Eden's fresh and dewy bowers. 
 
 Her four majestic streams. 
 
 Or first awaking to the charm 
 
 Of poesy and tale. 
 The desert isle in distant seas — 
 
 The Abyssinian vale ; 
 
112 AN APRIL DAY. 
 
 The pastoral scene, the hermit's grot 
 By turns are pictured there, 
 
 Till homeliest haunts enchanted grow. 
 And magic beauties wear. 
 
 Old tunes seem ringing in my ears, 
 Old books before me lie. 
 
 And ever at my side I hear 
 A voice that will not die. 
 
 beauteous Nature ! unto thee 
 
 My erring youth was given, 
 Thy woods were once my holiest shrines. 
 
 Thy skies my nearest heaven. 
 
 Baptized in tears I see thee now 
 
 Eeflecting in thy face 
 A solemn hght thou hadst not then, 
 
 A more bewitching grace. 
 
 Though middle age has stiUed the pulse 
 
 That once so wildly beat. 
 And dewy eve succeeds at length 
 
 Unto the noontide heat j 
 
AN APRIL DAY. II3 
 
 Yet well I love this sober calm, 
 
 For through the quiet air 
 All earthly loveliness but seems 
 
 More strangely, sweetly fair. 
 
 O Beauty of the Unseen God ! 
 
 For Thee alone I sigh, 
 Thy touch is on the opening woods, 
 
 Thy smile is on the sky. 
 
 'Tis Thou that stirrest in our hearts 
 
 Until they fain would soar 
 Up to Thy rapturous embrace. 
 
 To part from Thee no more. 
 
 Not yet ! not yet ! Wait on, my soul. 
 
 For yet another spring ; 
 The April Day will come at last. 
 
 And all its blossoms bring. 
 
©aglifltt iieneatfj fijz SEaters. 
 
 I CALLED the earth too fair, 
 A home too bright for sinful man to own — 
 Kings of a fallen race and shattered throne, 
 How shall we gaze at Nature, and yet dare, 
 Dust as we are, her diadem to wear ? 
 
 "Within her smile there lies 
 A nameless pain, which pierces while it charms ; 
 Hers is a grace we seek with outstretched arms, 
 But from our grasp all shadow-like it flies, 
 And our most rapturous moments end in sighs. 
 
 Our sinful hands have ploughed 
 Her loveliest features with a thousand scars. 
 The Beauty which man's hand hath touched it 
 
 mars. 
 Her paths are trodden by the trampling crowd, 
 Her hush profaned by voices rude and loud. 
 
VA YLIGHT BENEA TH THE WA TBRS. 1 1 5 
 
 And hence I love to dwell 
 On all things that escape the blasting gaze 
 Of worldly eyes in beautiful byways ; 
 The tiny moss, wreathed in some fairy dell, 
 Half-hidden in the sand, an ocean shell ; 
 
 Or through the billows gaze 
 And mark the strange, mysterious light that falls 
 Like quivering wings about those azure halls ; 
 The waters have baptized our summer rays, 
 And stilled the passion of their noontide blaze. 
 
 That Hght hath never shone 
 On dusty paths fretted by busy trade ; 
 On shop or highway never hath it played, 
 On walls where folly laughs, or sorrow groans. 
 Or gUt the steps of prisons or of thrones. 
 
 Its rays are all too clear 
 To mingle with the daylight that we use 
 To play the game of life, to win or lose ; 
 It hath not looked on sin, or shame, or fear, 
 Eubied in blood, or sparkled in a tear. 
 
Il6 DAYLIGHT BENEATH THE WATERS. 
 
 So whea in faith we bring 
 A newborn soul to fontal mysteries, 
 That stainless Hght first gleams from infant eyes ; 
 Thrice-blessed if our darlings upward spring 
 To seek its source on dew-besprinkled wing. 
 
 But oh ! more blessed far, 
 If youth should pass, and years should come and go 
 And that pure light nor cloud nor shadow know. 
 Through lucid depths still shining like a star ; 
 Such virgin souls there have been and there are. 
 
 Shine on then, oh, shine on, 
 Down in thy water-world, thou blessed light ! 
 Thou hast beguiled me on to visions bright, 
 The blessed end of all, in toil begun. 
 The fight fought out, the Crown of Victory won. 
 
 Shine on — and far away, 
 When as I tread the dry and beaten track 
 Of daily duty, shall I not look back, 
 And in the flashes of that ocean ray 
 Behold a purer Light, a better Day ! 
 
Autumn Eijottg|)ts» 
 
 ' The harvest is past, the summer is ended, and we are not saved." 
 (Jer. viii. 20.) 
 
 The harvest is past and ended, 
 
 The summer is fled away, 
 Gone are the sweet scents blended 
 
 Of the clover and the hay. 
 
 Gone is the royal mantle 
 
 Which the changing woods have worn, 
 The purple of the vineyards, 
 
 And the yellow, waving corn. 
 
 The leaf falls from the forest, 
 The smile fades from the sky, 
 
 And the garden's autumn splendour 
 But tells us it must die. 
 
 The asters and the dahlias 
 Dazzle with scentless bloom ; 
 
 They are springLag from a deathbed. 
 They will lie upon a tomb. 
 
1 1 8 A UTUMN THO UGHTS. 
 
 A weight hangs on my spirit, 
 
 A dulness and a chill, 
 Like the mist upon the river. 
 
 Like the rain upon the hiU. 
 
 I watched them carry the harvest 
 That over the hill-side waved. 
 
 And I felt a strange, sweet gladness. 
 To think of those bright ears saved. 
 
 No thoughts of a spring-time wasted, 
 No sorrow for summer lost ; 
 
 They have laid their sheaves in the gamer. 
 And they fear not the winter's frost. 
 
 They had their beautiful season. 
 And their golden summer pride, 
 
 Then came the call of the reaper, 
 And they bowed their heads and died. 
 
 The harvest is past, and the summer, 
 And oh ! that this soul of mine 
 
 To its home were safely gathered, 
 Like the corn-sheaves and the wine. 
 
AUTUMN THOUGHTS. IIQ 
 
 And oh ! that living or dying 
 
 It had done its work as they, 
 With a beauty in its blossoms, 
 
 And a wealth in its decay. 
 
 So speaks repining Nature, 
 
 Unmanned by coward fears, 
 Gazing on life's fierce conflict 
 
 Through a blinding mist of tears. 
 
 From defeat and failure shrinking. 
 It dares not hope for the crown. 
 
 But ere the battle is ended 
 
 It would fling its weapons down. , 
 
 Cast off thine ill-timed sadness, 
 
 weak and querulous soul ! 
 Lift up the knees that falter, 
 
 And fix thine eye on the goal. 
 
 The winter is lying before thee. 
 It is all that is left of the year. 
 
 And the snow falls thick and heavy. 
 Like the pall on a maiden's bier. 
 
I20 AUTUMN THOUGHTS. 
 
 Short days, and a work that presses, 
 Hard toil amid bitter frost ; 
 
 No matter, our part is taken. 
 We too have counted the cost. 
 
 What though the cold wind pierces ? 
 
 What though the hailstones blind % 
 The path Ues over the mountains, 
 
 And we must not look behind. 
 
 A struggle and a conquest. 
 
 And a march through the winter snows ; 
 Courage ! 'twill soon be ended. 
 
 And the Long Year reach its close. 
 
©n Eealims t^t "Grammar of Assent." 
 
 Within each soul an edifice of thought 
 
 Is built up, stone by stone and year by year ; 
 
 Unseen, impalpable the hands that rear 
 
 Those lofty terraces ; yea, all unsought 
 
 Have they their treasures and their labour brought. 
 
 And built, like coral worms, in secresy : 
 
 We know not when we think, no friendly eye 
 
 Eesting upon our looks, the moment caught. 
 
 When on the first step of a mighty stair 
 
 Our venturous foot we half unconscious laid. 
 
 Amid the round of trivial life we made 
 
 Step after step, and climbed the clouds, and there 
 
 A sudden gust dispels the veihng haze, 
 
 Whilst breaks the great horizon on our startled gaze. 
 
 It breaks like sunrise, and we trembling see 
 The awful heights we've clambered, as in sleep ; 
 And yawning chasms crossed with footsteps free 
 On slippery planks : yet was there One could keep 
 
122 ON READING THE GRAMMAR OF ASSENT. 
 
 A shepherd's eye upon His wandering sheep. 
 Surely on angel's pinions we were home, 
 And gentle, viewless hands were there to warn 
 And guide us blindfold to the giddy steep. 
 It must be so ; life's pendulum swings on 
 As we with busy brain a texture weave, 
 And hour by hour infer, assent, — believe. 
 The earnest eyes of angels by our side 
 Behold the work, and all unseen, they guide 
 The shuttle's fall aright, till the fair web is done. 
 
(ITomjjleteness in ©oU, 
 
 LIFE ! thy chequered web is hard to scan, 
 Each tangled thread a newhorn mystery — 
 We ask the Psalmist's question, " What is man 1 " ^ 
 How read the sense of our own history ? 
 
 A mighty force within a puny sphere — 
 A love that vainly seeks and cannot find — 
 Quenchless desires never granted here, 
 A frame of dust linked to immortal mind : 
 
 A vast machinery whose ceaseless wheels 
 Their strength and cunning art at random spend ; 
 The busy brain that plans, the heart that feels, 
 All incomplete, a tale without an end. 
 
 So to the sceptic's eyes the world must seem. 
 Empty alike its beauty and its pain, 
 The fitful fancies of a restless dream, 
 Action and end, all meaningless and vain. 
 
 ' Ps. viii. 5. 
 
124 COMPLETENESS IN GOD. 
 
 He walks the world, and claims it for his own, 
 Euling with royal hand o'er earth and sea, 
 Solving all problems ; this, and this alone, 
 Unskilled to answer, Why he came to be. 
 
 To be, — the mystery of mysteries ; 
 To be, and then to cease, — and all for nought ; 
 Life and its schemes commenced, the schemer dies, 
 " Alas ! with nothing done ! " his dying thought. 
 
 Not so the feeblest, most untutored soul. 
 Who in meek faith the Church's aisles has trod ; 
 He needs no art to read the open scroll, 
 " Our life, enigma, and its answer, GoD ! " 
 
 God, First and Last — the Principle and End — 
 Unsounded Deep from whom all fulness flows, 
 Towards whom each tiny life must lean and tend ; 
 In whom alone our life completeness knows. 
 
 As to the light the flowers unbidden turn. 
 We feel for God if haply we may find ; 
 Prisoners of Hope, who in their exile yearn 
 For Home, and all with that dear name entwined. 
 
COMPLETENESS IN GOD. 125 
 
 Vain, incomplete, we own, are all things here. 
 Our little life too short its aims to span, 
 In One at length, the only Finisher,^ 
 We find the measure of the perfect man.^ 
 
 ' " So the heavens and the earth were finished." — (Oen. ii. 1.) 
 ' I have finished the work which Thou gavest me to do." — (John 
 xvii. i.) 
 
 2 " Till we all meet in the unity of faith and of the knowledge 
 of the Son of God unto a perfect man, unto the measure of the age 
 of the fulness of Christ." — (Eph. iv. 13.) 
 
E\}t ©ift of ®oIr. 
 
 " If thou didst know the Gift of God I "—{fohn iv. la) 
 
 Athiest and weary, sitting by the brink 
 
 Of waters clear and sweet 
 
 That gush beneath their feet, 
 They hold the chain, and count its every link, 
 Yet, bound by some strange spell, they will not drink. 
 
 parched and fainting souls ! Did they but know ! 
 
 'Tis all our hearts can say 
 
 As by that Well they stray 
 With thirst unquenched, whUe near them, and below. 
 We hear the floods of those deep waters flow. 
 
 Did they but know the Gift beyond all gifts, 
 
 Could but their eyes diseem 
 
 The Beacon whence they turn ; 
 But o'er the desolate waves their vessel drifts, 
 WhUe still the Light its friendly warning lifts. 
 
THE GIFT OF GOD. 12/ 
 
 Oh, look into their eyes, and read the tale 
 
 Of wounds they cannot hide. 
 
 And thirst unsatisfied ! 
 Shall they for ever seek, and seeking fail. 
 With only light their blindness to bewail ? 
 
 Let not the blessing be for us alone, 
 
 We cannot see them die 
 
 And pass unheeding by ; 
 Sing Sion's song of joy, and hear them groan 
 As with sad hearts they worship the Unknown. 
 
 Did they but guess at all we have to tell ! 
 Our hearts' best blood should flow 
 That Gift to make them know ; 
 To draw the blinding veil, to break the spell. 
 And loose the golden chain into the Well ! 
 
 Pray, ever pray, 'tis all that we can do ; 
 Pray when those eyes you meet 
 In throng or busy street ; 
 Pray, lifting holy hands, for were we true 
 Unto our light, their loss we might not rue. 
 
128 THE GIFT OF GOD. 
 
 Pray on and judge not, for a day -will show 
 
 Which soul the guiltier lives ; 
 
 He who the light receives, 
 Yet strays afar with backward step and slow. 
 Or he who missed the path, but did not know. 
 
 Judge not, but trim thy lamp, and hold it high, 
 
 That men the truth may guess 
 
 By its own loveliness ; 
 Oh that its rays might reach some wanderer's eye. 
 Who, did he know the Gift, would love it more 
 than I ! 
 
Sweet tones that do recall as days come round 
 Lost voices, singing sweetly in my ear 
 " Eodie,' " accipite," ^ — once heard so near, 
 Now far, and gone for ever ; at the sound 
 I turn, and think to catch th' angelic smile, 
 The lustrous look that shone on me awhUe. 
 
 High up among the Thrones, pierced thro' with light, 
 
 Pure, gracious, full of worship, and serene : 
 
 If aught of that which once on earth hath been 
 
 Hangs round the Spirit even in God's sight, 
 
 'Tis so she floats in glory, singing still 
 
 Words, whose deep sense the joys of heaven fulfil. 
 
 " 3odie " — for hers is now the long to-day ; 
 
 No sigh of yestern sadness dims the air : 
 
 No changeful morrow brings its weight of care, 
 
 ' First words of Vesper Antiphons for Christmas and Pentecost- 
 
 I 
 
130 MAGNIFICAT ANTIPHONS. 
 
 For past and future, all are fled away, 
 And in the bliss of an Eternal Now 
 The waves of endless being onward flow. 
 
 For ever and for ever flowing on — 
 Secure the Virgin's robe, the Victor's palm, 
 Joy, like a boundless ocean deep and calm, 
 Filling each sense ; life over ; heaven won ; 
 Parting no more ; and through Eternity 
 One sweet word echoing ever, " Accijpe !" 
 
 " Receive the robe, and bear it without stain," 
 "Words uttered when Baptismal grace was given ; 
 " Eeceive the veil which marks the bride of heaven," 
 Thrice blessed choice ! and now she hears again, 
 " Eeceive the crown, the last, best gift receive ; 
 Receive, spouse, aU that the Spouse can give." 
 
 And shall we then mourn o'er the doom that came. 
 
 And like a whirlwind laid our Eden low ? 
 
 Shall we in selfish bitterness say No, 
 
 When He, the Master, comes His own to claim ? 
 
 Shall we refuse to give Him what is His, 
 
 And close the door that ushers her to bliss ? 
 
MAGNIFICAT ANT IP HON S. I3I 
 
 Not SO, pure soul, beloved by God and man ; 
 Live thy true life, tho' severed far from me, 
 Live in the light of God, secure and free : 
 The evening hours are narrowing to a span ; 
 The charm, the grace is gone ; but angels lend 
 The strength to bear life's burden to its end. 
 
©utg. 
 
 Straight and firm mark out the furrow, 
 
 Drop therein the golden grain : 
 Do thy task, and rise to-morrow 
 
 Eeady to begin again. 
 One day like another passing. 
 
 Acts and deeds of little show. 
 Garnered seeds may be amassing 
 
 Whence the harvest field shall grow. 
 
 Bravely, then, the ploughshare driving, 
 
 Faint not, nor withdraw thy hand j 
 Duties done by earnest striving 
 
 Leave their traces o'er the land. 
 Hard the labour, few the pleasures. 
 
 Dull the task no others share ; 
 But each step that Duty measures 
 
 Leads us up a golden stair. 
 
DUTY. 133 
 
 Sing, then, in the early morning, 
 
 Going forth to work alone ; 
 Sing at evening, home returning, 
 
 Counting up a day's work done. 
 Light the footstep ever wending 
 
 Duty's worn and dusty ways; 
 Light the heart, itself expending. 
 
 Dead to thought of human praise. 
 
 Dead to self, intensely living 
 
 In the noble throbs that move 
 Hearts who weary not in giving 
 
 Life for life and love for love ; 
 Love of souls and love of duty, 
 
 Fear of falsehood, hate of wrong — 
 These shall clothe thy life with beauty 
 
 Worthy of the poet's song. 
 
Wijt JHountaln Summit, 
 
 Life passes ; one by one illusions fade, 
 
 A beauteous mirage ; but the Eeal, the True, 
 
 Seen through no veiling mists, in light and shade 
 Charactered strongly, stand before our view : 
 The True, to trust in, and the Eeal, to do. 
 
 We have to climb a Mount, whereof the base 
 Lies bathed in beauty, garlanded with vines ; 
 
 Thence, step by step, our upward path we trace 
 Through tints more sombre, and 'mid sterner lines 
 Of rocky crags, where summer never shines. 
 
 Higher, still higher ; — what ! must we alone, 
 In that dread, lofty solitude abide. 
 
 With nothing left that we can call our own. 
 When all of self has dropped from us, and died, 
 Leaving its dust upon the mountain-side ? 
 
THE MOUNTAIN SUMMIT. I3S 
 
 Fear not, poor soul : the problem of thy life 
 Work bravely out ; for solitude to thee 
 
 With loving mysteries may yet be rife ; 
 
 Nearer to heaven, the more of earth we see, 
 'And serve it better when our hearts are free. 
 
 Nearer to heaven, nearer to the home 
 
 Where garnered lies thine everlasting store, 
 
 Whence fall sweet voices, saying to thee : " Come ! 
 Fight the good fight, which we have fought before, 
 Then come to us, and we shall part no more ! 
 
 " Till then, stand firm and fearless at thy post, 
 And stiU with dying fingers clasp the sword ; 
 
 He wins the prize at last who loses most. 
 Gives forth his life, and asks for no reward. 
 But in the Victor's Book his name is scored !" 
 
3Ltg1)t on tfie CIouUs. 
 
 I QUESTION not their vision keen 
 Who scan the pure transparent air 
 To mark each cloudlet floating there 
 As stains upon the pure serene. 
 
 Such gauzy films are veils, they say, 
 That come between us and our end ; 
 And human lovings do but tend 
 To hide the greater Love away. 
 
 They count the heart a heap of dust 
 To chasten only and deny : 
 I know them holier far than I, 
 And yet I hold another trust. 
 
LIGHT ON THE CLOUDS. 1 3/ 
 
 For I have seen those cloudlets shine 
 "With glory blazoned from above, 
 And I have known a human love 
 Eeflect on earth a ray divine. 
 
Efje %iU of 3Eo&e, 
 
 Feak not to love, although the wound be deep, 
 The burden heavy, and the anguish sore, 
 Have faith, and still love on, not less, but more. 
 Shrink not, although it seem thy life to steep 
 In those sad tears which only hearts can weep. 
 If but thy love be noble, wise, and strong, 
 Yea, strong as Death, as Life Eternal, long — 
 If in thy love thy heart its freedom keep, 
 And own no chains but such as bind to God— 
 If thou wilt rest content to give, nor yearn 
 For fond remembrance or for sweet return, 
 Then love, and fear not, Saints this path have trod. 
 What though all love be suffering?^ freely give 
 Thy love, thy life — to love thus is to live. 
 
 ^ Aimer — c'est souffrir {Mdme. Swetchine). 
 
OTlfiitsuitttKe. 
 
 ** Diinitte nunc peccamina 
 Et da quieta tempora." 
 
 {Hyntn/or the Feast.) 
 
 " Give quiet times " — so breathes the Whitsun prayer, 
 Ask we in those sweet -words for earthly rest 1 
 Some pleasant nook where we may build our nest, 
 The dear home circle, and the vision fair, 
 Calm joys, long years, with loving hearts to share? 
 
 Ask we from weary struggles to be free, 
 
 Defeat and failure never more to know, 
 
 'Neath sunny skies our little bark to row 
 
 To some green islet on a summer sea, 
 
 Where peace may reign, and sorrow far may flee 1 
 
 Ask we that Death no more shall interpose 
 His parting hand to drown our days in tears ? 
 That age may keep the joys of younger years. 
 O'er chill December bloom the July rose, 
 And life flow on, still fragrant, to its close 
 
140 WHITSUNTIDE. 
 
 Vain were tte thought ! It is not thus I pray, 
 Not these the " tranquO times " my heart would claim j 
 There is a peace no mortal tongue may name ; 
 Deep in the inward soul it makes its stay, 
 Man cannot give that peace, nor take away. 
 
 It smiles through suffering, and abides in pain, 
 
 It is the kingdom that is reared within, 
 
 To rule the tempest, and to quell the din 
 
 Of pride and passion : where that peace holds reign 
 
 God's Saints declare " a rest doth still remain." ^ 
 
 Oh that such blessed rest might come to me ! 
 Give me a peace that passes worldly joys ! 
 Give me a silence from the jarring noise 
 Of wills and wishes ; that my heart, set free, 
 May find its only rest, sweet Lord, in Thee ! 
 
 ' " There remaineth, therefore, a rest for the people of God ' 
 (Heb. iv. 9). 
 
STfje Wijxte Coronations* 
 
 "Veni de Libano, Sponsa mea, veni de Libano, veni coronaberis." 
 
 (Cant. iv. 8.) 
 
 Till the day break and shadows all retire 
 
 Up to the mouat I go, 
 The mount of myrrh and suffering desire 
 
 Whence choicest odours flow. 
 
 The Bridegroom when His call to summon me 
 Eings through the midnight air, 
 
 Steadfast in faith, and hope, and charity, 
 Must find me waiting there. 
 
 His hands will give the robe no flashing gem 
 
 But His own Blood adorns : 
 He'll crown me with His royal diadem. 
 
 But 'tis a crown of thorns. 
 
142 THE THREE CORONATIONS. 
 
 O'er me shall pass in those dread heights above 
 
 The billows of His storiiis,i 
 The cleansing flame of that Eternal Love 
 
 Must burn ere it transforms.^ 
 
 The length, the breadth, the sharpness of the Cross 
 
 On heart and flesh must press, 
 The unction of His love draws gain from loss 
 
 And sweets from bitterness. 
 
 Yea, even from His bitterest bitterness 
 
 Such sweetness doth He give, 
 Without that Cross our bleeding hearts confess 
 
 The lover could not live. 
 
 Therefore His guerdons unto faithful souls 
 
 Ai'e labours, pains, and tears ; 
 To shine like sparkling jewels on their stoles 
 
 Thro' the eternal years. 
 
 But when the course of time at last brings round 
 
 The long-expected hour. 
 The threefold call of love again shall sound 
 
 In majesty and power. 
 
 ' Ps. xli. 8. ^ See Dream of Gerontius, p. 36. 
 
THE THREE CORONATIONS. 1 43 
 
 Come from the top of Libanus, come, 
 
 Come from thy mountain height, 
 Receive thy Spousal Crown within the home 
 
 Of never-ending Light ! 
 
 The Church with tenderest yearning doth repeat 
 
 The Bridegroom's thrilling cry, 
 " Go forth, O Christian soul, thy God to meet ! 
 
 Go forth to the Most High ! 
 
 " Go, in His name Who fashioned thee from dust ; 
 
 His name. Who bled and died ; 
 His name, of perfect love, the heart's firm trust. 
 
 Who sealed and sanctified." 
 
 She hears the Spirit and the Bride say, " Come ! " 
 
 Athirst with love replies, 
 Her end, in joys surpassing thought or sum. 
 
 Beholding, as she dies. 
 
 Yet even in death, upon that marble brow 
 
 A royal crown is prest : 
 The thorns have blossomed into roses now. 
 
 And penance yields to rest. 
 
144 THE THREE CORONATIONS. 
 
 But the last Crown remains — the blissful Vision 
 
 Enjoyed eternally, 
 The nameless calm, the deep and full fruition 
 
 To hope no more — but see ! 
 
 The Father and the Son to see, receiving 
 
 From both the Mighty Kiss ; 
 The Breath of Uncreated Love inhaling, 
 
 Breathing it back in bUss ! 
 
 Sinking ever deeper in the ocean 
 
 Of endless, boundless peace, 
 It is, she knows, no passing, brief emotion, 
 
 Thai, Vision will not cease. 
 
 When will the fitful dream of life be over 1 
 When wilt Thou call me home ? 
 
 O my Father, Brother, Spouse, and Lover, 
 When will Thy Kingdom come 1 
 
 My hope is still awhile to wait and wander. 
 
 Until the shadows flee, 
 Then in Eternity's long midday splendour 
 
 Thy face to see ! 
 
Blessed Imelda Lambertini was clothed iu the Dominican habit at Bologna, 
 whilst still a child. On account of her extreme youth, the confessor of 
 the Convent refused her earnest and repeated entreaties to be admitted 
 to Holy Communion. At length, one day whilst the other Sisters were 
 communicating, a brilliant Kost, surrounded with rays of glory, left the 
 altar and stood over Imelda's head. The priest, wonderstruck at the 
 sight, came to the spot, and not daring longer to resist the manifest will 
 of God, communicated the happy child, who, crossing her arms on her 
 breast, expired the moment after in an ecstasy of joy. An inscription 
 over her grave in the church gives a detailed account of this occurrence, 
 which took place in the year 1333. 
 
 It is a dim old churchj whose aisles 
 From many a column's clustered piles, 
 With carved and fretted roof o'erhead, 
 In lofty arch and transept spread ; 
 Soft fall the rays in chequered glow 
 Upon the marble floor below, 
 With a new radiance warm and bright, 
 And pools of gold and azure light, 
 
146 THE LEGEND OF BLESSED I MELD A. 
 
 From the rich casement caught and given, 
 Where glorious shine the saints of heaven. 
 
 The incense-cloud is stealing 
 
 The lofty aisles among, 
 And the choir is softly pealing 
 
 With the swell of sacred song, 
 With the thrice-said " Agnus Dei,' 
 
 For mercy and for peace ; 
 And now the echoes die away, 
 
 As the sounds of chanting cease. 
 Then comes the tone of a single voice ; 
 
 The priest's on the altar-stair. 
 And the Lord of life and glory 
 
 He is holding for worship there : 
 It is the sweet communion hour 
 
 Of holy Easter morn. 
 When the faithful to the altar pour 
 
 To receive the Virgin-bom. 
 And all but one are gone, and she 
 
 A little child of seven, 
 Already clothed in novice-robes. 
 
 And to the altar given. 
 
THE LEGEND OF BLESSED I MELD A. 1 47 
 
 Too young they deem her — young in years 
 
 And in her child-like ways ; 
 But oh ! with them who love like her, 
 
 Grod reckons not by days ; 
 For bright within Imelda's heart 
 
 There burned the saintly flame, 
 The love that like a holy fire 
 
 Straight from the altar came. 
 They knew not that it there had found 
 
 A sanctuary sweet ; 
 They deemed it childish petulance 
 
 When she longed her Spouse to greet ; 
 They heeded not her earnest prayers, 
 
 But left her there alone, 
 Bidding her dry her tears, and wait 
 
 Till she was older grown. 
 
 But oh ! the judgments of the Eternal God 
 
 Are not as man's ; 
 We see the outward signs alone, but He 
 
 The bosom scans. 
 As arrow to the mark, His piercing glance 
 
 FHes quick and true 
 To where it finds the love of saintly souls. 
 
 His chosen few. 
 
148 THE LEGEND OF BLESSED I MELD A. 
 
 child, that love hath made thy little heart 
 
 His pleasant home : 
 Fear not, and weep no more ; for He, thy Spouse, 
 
 Will surely come. 
 
 The people, startled from their prayers, behold a 
 
 wondrous sight — 
 The splendour of a sudden ray, than summer's sun 
 
 more bright, 
 And a sudden awe falls on the priest who holds the 
 
 Sacred Host : 
 One moment It is in his hands, the next he feels It 
 
 lost. 
 What means that path of dazzling light 1 what means 
 
 that shining star. 
 Like that which once to Bethl'em's home led sages 
 
 from afar ? 
 Over Imelda's childish head its heavenly gleam ap- 
 pears ; 
 Her eyes are raised in worship — lo ! it glitters in her 
 
 tears ; 
 Upon that face of glowing love a smUe of rapture 
 
 plays. 
 For she knows Whose mystic Presence dwells amidst 
 
 those wondrous rays. 
 
THE LEGEND OF BLESSED I MELD A. 1 49 
 
 He comes unto His own! Oh, let your doubting 
 
 hearts believe, 
 Who feared to let the little one the Lord of life re- 
 ceive ; 
 See how the radiance of the flame brighter and 
 
 brighter glows. 
 Nor dare with human doubts to part the Bridegroom 
 
 and the spouse. 
 So the priest came from the altar, and the people's 
 
 ranks gave way, 
 And on the crowd a solemn hush of reverent wonder 
 
 lay: 
 With trembling awe he takes the Host — ecstasy of 
 
 bliss ! 
 Imelda has received her Lord, and His espousal kiss. 
 
 They raise her up : her sisters' hearts 
 
 Are pierced with sudden pang. 
 As they feel how heavy on their arms 
 
 Their darling seems to hang. 
 One look into her face tells all : 
 
 It is no common swoon ; 
 Life knows no loveliness like that — 
 
 That smile is death's alone. 
 
I 50 THE LEGEND OF BLESSED IMELDA. 
 
 Her arms are crossed upon her breast, 
 
 To hold her Treasure fast : 
 For ever from that pale young brow 
 
 The look of earth hath passed. 
 A hue like that which flushes o'er 
 
 The early morning sky 
 Rests on her cheek — the token left 
 
 By the sudden ecstasy : 
 For oh ! the joy was all too great, 
 
 The little heart too small ; 
 The love so strong — the frame so weak — 
 
 She could not bear it all. 
 We may not look on God and live ; 
 
 She had not seen alone, 
 But He had come to her in love, 
 
 And made Himself her own. 
 The pang of joy had snapped in twain 
 
 The cord that bound her down ; 
 And the rays that shone above her head 
 
 Formed the first of her glorious crown. 
 The mighty love of that spousal kiss 
 
 Had death's espousals given, 
 And she whose young heart broke with joy 
 
 Had passed from earth to heaven ! 
 
Efje 3Legmt« of IMtmza (I^siliius. 
 
 The lamp was burning long and late 
 
 WifJiin the student's tower, 
 And still its flickering ray was seen 
 
 Far past the midnight hour. 
 It glimmered from the casement 
 
 Of the Spanish stranger's cell, 
 And there was something strange and sad 
 
 In the radiance as it fell. 
 None saw it dimmed, and men had grown 
 
 To watch for it with awe ; 
 Saying an Ave every time 
 
 The star-like gleam they saw ; 
 And there were whispers dark and strange 
 
 And words of evil fame, 
 Which made them shudder as they heard 
 
 Egidius' blighted name. 
 The shadow of some mystery 
 
 Around the stranger lay. 
 
I S 3 THE LEGEND OF BLESSED EGIDIUS. 
 
 Men gazed in wonder on his brow 
 
 And turned aside to pray. 
 The lines were there of lofty thought 
 
 And more than mortal skill, 
 The light of genius blended there 
 
 With the Majesty of Will. 
 Yet its beauty was not beautiful — 
 
 Its glory was not bright — 
 Something upon the lustre hung 
 
 And darkened it to-night. 
 Though from his eye the spirit flashed 
 
 In wild and dazzling rays, 
 A something in the lightning gleamed 
 
 Which made you fear to gaze. 
 
 And now with stern and thoughtful looks 
 
 He sits and ponders o'er his books : 
 
 Strange words and characters are there ; 
 
 He reads nor psalmody nor prayer. 
 
 The sacred sign has scarce been traced 
 
 O'er pages by those Hnes defaced ; 
 
 For holy things can bear no part 
 
 In the dark rites of magic art. 
 
 Silent the night, and dark the room, 
 
 The lamp scarce pierced the midnight gloom, 
 
THE LEGEND OF BLESSED EGIDIUS. 153 
 
 Dimly and wan its lustre burned, 
 As leaf by leaf the Master turned, 
 And save the rustle as they stirred, 
 No echo through the night was heard. 
 
 Why leaps with strange and sudden glare 
 
 The flame within the lamp? 
 What sound is that upon the stair ? 
 
 'Tis an armfed horseman's tramp ! 
 Nearer it comes with solemn tread, 
 
 And it sounds on the turret floor. 
 And with a harsh and sudden crash, 
 
 Bursts wide the chamber door. 
 Egidius raised his head, and turned, 
 
 A giant form was there 
 With lance and shield and plumfed helm, 
 
 As men in tourney wear. 
 A coal-black steed the Phantom rode 
 
 Of vast and awful size. 
 And through the visor bars there gleamed 
 
 The flash of angry eyes. 
 He shook the lance above his head, 
 
 He called the student's name. 
 And a trembling as of palsy shook 
 
 The Master's iron frame. 
 
1 54 THE LEGEND OP BLESSED EGIDJUS. 
 
 They rang into his verj- heart 
 
 Those accents of the grave ; 
 " Change, change thy life ! " the echoing vaults 
 
 A hollow answer gave. 
 And the eyeballs of that helmfed head 
 
 Shot forth a fearful ray ; 
 Then passed the vision from his sight, 
 
 And the echoes died away. 
 
 But human hearts are strangely hard, 
 
 And his was used of old 
 To sights which seen hy other men 
 
 Would turn their life-blood cold. 
 Tor seven years he had lived a life 
 
 It were not good to tell, 
 And his eyes were used to fiendish forms 
 
 His ears to the sounds of heU ; 
 So when the vision passed, he turned 
 
 Back to his books again, 
 Mastering the pulses of his heart 
 
 With a grasp of a iierce disdain. 
 
 Eight days had passed — the night was come, 
 
 And he was musing there, 
 A.nd once again that trampling sound 
 
 Was heard upon the stair ; 
 
TH£. LEGEND OF BLESSED EGIDIUS. 155 
 
 Already twice those clattering feet 
 
 Have sounded at his door, 
 Now ring they louder, and their tread 
 
 Shakes the old turret floor. 
 A blow, as from an iron hand, 
 
 Strikes the panels with hideous din ; 
 Hinges and fast'nings have given way. 
 
 And the horseman gallops in : 
 One bound has cleared the portal wide ; 
 The next, he's by Egidius' side : 
 Curbing his war-horse as it rears. 
 He thunders in those trembling ears — 
 " Change, change thy life, unhappy one ! 
 Thy crimes are full, thy race is run ; " 
 Then o'er his prostrate form they dash. 
 Eider and steed, with one fell crash. 
 
 The hours of that fearful night 
 
 Were rolling sadly by. 
 He rose from out his deadly swoon — 
 
 The dawn was in the sky ; 
 The lamp was broken on the ground, 
 The mystic books lay scattered round ; 
 They caught his glance — with hasty hands 
 He casts them on the smouldering brands, 
 
156 THE LEGEND OF BLESSED EGIDWS. 
 
 And fans them to a flame. 
 AYildly it leapt, and licked the air, 
 While sank with every record there 
 
 Egidius' magic fame. 
 
 He staggered to the window, 
 
 The breeze blew freshly in. 
 But oh ! he felt within his heart 
 
 The gnawing sense of sin. 
 The clear light of the dawning 
 
 Fell full upon his brow, 
 It touched the flood-gates of his heart^- 
 
 Oh ! where was his manhood now ? 
 The world lay all in worship. 
 
 Steeped in the morning rays. 
 And the birds sang loud on every branch 
 
 Their matin-song of praise ; 
 He could not bear that calm, clear light. 
 
 Nor the touch of the gentle breeze, 
 And the first ray of the risen sun 
 
 Has found him on his knees. 
 
 Among the hills of Spain, there stands 
 A fabric reared by holy hands ; 
 
THE LEGEND OF BLESSED EGIDWS. 1 57 
 
 True sons of Dominic were they 
 Who left the world to watch and pray : 
 And there — the white wool on his breast — 
 Egidius sought for peace and rest. 
 
 He bore a weary penance, 
 
 For no ray of comfort fell 
 To soothe his days, or scare away 
 
 The visitants of hell. 
 They stirred not from his side, they stood 
 
 Beside him in his prayer ; 
 Prostrate before the altar steps — 
 
 They gibbered round him there. 
 They told him of a bloody bond 
 
 Which his own right hand had given, 
 And mocked him when he strove to raise 
 
 His weary eyes to heaven. 
 
 'Tis night within the convent church : 
 
 The moonbeams gently shine, 
 Silv'ring the pavement where he kneels 
 
 Before our Lady's shrine. 
 There was the scene of his nightly watch 
 
 His only resting-place ; 
 And he looked up like a tired child 
 
 Into a Mother's face. 
 
158 THE LEGEND OP BLESSED EGIDIUS. 
 
 " Star of Hope," he whispers low, 
 
 " Turn here those loving eyes, 
 "Whose hue is like the gentle blue 
 
 That glows in southern skies ; 
 Say, what more can I give ? My blood 
 
 And the fall of countless tears 
 Have flowed in ceaseless torrents 
 
 O'er those sins of by -gone years. 
 Yet still these demons haunt my path, 
 
 And claim me for their own ; 
 "With bitter gibe and jest they mock 
 
 Each deep repentant moan : 
 They mind me of the written bond 
 
 Which signed my soul away ; 
 Oh ! would that at thy blessed feet 
 
 The bloody paper lay ! 
 Sweet Mother ! let the cause be thine, 
 
 Then surely were it won ; 
 And let one ray of comfort gleam 
 
 On the soul of thy guilty son ! " 
 
 "With childlike sobs Egidius lay 
 
 Upon the marble ground, 
 His heart was full of voiceless prayer, 
 
 "When there came an awful sound ; 
 
THE LEGEND OF BLESSED EGIDIUS. TSQ 
 
 'Twas the cry of bafBed malice, 
 
 And it rang through the vaulted aisles, 
 And the hideous echo seemed to rock 
 
 The convent's massive piles. 
 " There, take thy cursed bond," it cried, 
 
 " Which never had I given, 
 Hadst thou not won Her mighty aid 
 
 Whom thou callest, Queen of Heaven." 
 
 He saw it falling through the air, 
 
 He knew the ruddy token. 
 Once more he grasped it in his hand. 
 
 And the chains of his life were broken. 
 He looked — a dusky demon form 
 
 Fled howling from the light ; 
 He raised his eyes to his Mother's face. 
 
 But the big tears dimmed his sight ! 
 Yet through their veiling mist he gazed. 
 
 And the dull, cold marble smiled, 
 And an aureole of glory played 
 
 Bound the brow of the Eoyal Child. 
 The light was piercing to his heart ; 
 
 But who may his rapture paint ? 
 That hour broke the bonds of hell, 
 
 And gave the Church a Saint. 
 
III. 
 
 Imitation^ of Ancient Enqli^h 
 Poetry. 
 
^ ^rager to our ILalrg. 
 
 ij'he originalis printed in the ** Typographical Aniiguities," vol. ii. p. 13.) 
 
 Mart, Mother ! hail to thee ! 
 Mary, Maiden, think on me ; 
 Mother-maid was never known, 
 Ladye, save in thee alone. 
 
 Sweetest Maiden, pure from stain, 
 Shield thou me from sin and pain ; 
 From all evil guard thou me 
 Of thine endless charity ! 
 
 By thy five joys, Ladye, win 
 Grace that I may fly from sin ; 
 God's commands and Christian faith 
 Let me know, and keep till death. 
 
 Help the souls I hold as dear, 
 Shield us all from hellish fear ; 
 Guard us well from evil fame, 
 And from thoughts and deeds of shame. 
 
164 A PRAYER TO OUR LADY. 
 
 For my friends I pray to thee, 
 Saved for ever may they he ; 
 By the five joys of thy heart 
 May they fly the tempter's dart. 
 
 For my foemen too I pray, 
 Let them find the better way, 
 That nor they nor I may die, 
 Parted from sweet charity. 
 
 Sweetest Ladye ! full of grace, 
 Every good in thee finds place, 
 Thou art flower of all our kind. 
 Help the weak and heal the blind. 
 
 Plead with Jesu as my friend. 
 Lead me to a godly end, 
 That anointed, houseled, shriven, 
 I may win my way to heaven. 
 
 Ladye ! I will trust in thee 
 That my prayer shall granted be ; 
 I shall, Ladye, then be blithe, 
 Thee to greet with Aves five ! 
 
(^he originalis printed in tJie " Reliquiee Aniiguiz" collected by 
 Wright &f Halliwell, p. 102.) 
 
 Mary ! ever-blessed maid, 
 
 Full of heavenly bliss, 
 Sweetest bud of paradise. 
 
 Flower of gentleness ; 
 Beseech, thy Son that in His love 
 
 He grant me this, 
 His grace, wherever I may be, 
 
 Never to miss ! 
 
 Ladye ! to thee mine orison 
 
 I will begin ; 
 True love of Him, thy sweetest Son, 
 
 Teach me to win ; 
 We live in sad and evil days, 
 
 Night closes in, 
 But, Ladye, in thy pity save, — 
 
 Save me from sin ! 
 
1 66 ANOTHER. 
 
 At Mercy's door I needs must knock, 
 
 On thee I call, 
 My flesh is weak, the world is false, 
 
 Look lest I fall. 
 I place within thy Mother's hands 
 
 My trust, my all, — 
 I am thy child, — let me not be 
 
 The foul fiend's thrall ! 
 
 Mine own works, Ladye, 
 
 They bear the ban. 
 All marred and foolish as they are, 
 
 Of fallen man ; 
 Mother ! wilt thou not give thine aid ? 
 
 None other can ; 
 Oh, help thou me, full well thou may'st. 
 
 Thou helpest many a man ! 
 
 Blessed be thy name, Ladye, 
 
 So fair and bright, 
 My hope rests ever upon thee 
 
 By day and night : 
 Oh, let me for thy pity plead ; 
 
 'Tis a child's right. 
 Who fain would see his Mother's face 
 
 In heavenly light. 
 
ANOTHER. 167 
 
 Ah, woe is me ! for I must bide 
 
 The judgment-hour, 
 The sins and follies I have done, 
 
 I rue them sore ; 
 But, Mother mine, I will let go 
 
 Thy hand no more ; 
 My bark is floating on the waves. 
 
 Guide me to shore ! 
 
IKarts Stella.^ 
 
 Mary ! beautiful and bright 
 
 Velut Maris Stella, 
 Brighter than the morning light, 
 
 Parens et Puella ; 
 I cry to thee, look down on me, 
 Ladye ! pray thy Son for me, 
 
 Tarn pia, 
 That thy child may come to thee, 
 
 Maria ! 
 
 Sad the earth was and forlorn, 
 
 Eva peccatrice, 
 
 Until Christ our Lord was born 
 
 De te G-enitrice ! 
 
 1 From the Egerton MSS. (British Museum), No. 613, fol. 2. 
 Slipposed to be of the thirteenth century. 
 
MARIS STELLA. 1 69 
 
 Gabriel's Ave chased away 
 Darksome night, and brought the day 
 
 Salutis ; 
 Thou the Fount whence waters play 
 
 Virtutis. 
 
 Ladye ! flower of living thing, 
 
 Eosa sine spina ! 
 Mother of Jesu, heaven's King, 
 
 Gratia divina ; 
 'Tis thou in all dost bear the prize, 
 Ladye ! Queen of Paradise, 
 
 Electa, 
 Maiden meek and Mother wise, 
 
 Efiecta. 
 
 In care thou counsellest the best, 
 
 Felix fecundata ; 
 To the weary thou art rest, 
 
 Mater honorata. 
 Plead in thy love to Him who gave 
 His Precious Blood the world to save 
 
 In Cruce, 
 That we our home with Him may have 
 
 In luce. 
 
170 MARIS STELLA. 
 
 Well knows He that He is thy Son, 
 
 Ventre quem portasti ; 
 All thou dost ask Him then is won, 
 
 Partum quem lactasti ! 
 So pitiful He is and kind, 
 By Him the road to bliss we find 
 
 Superni ; 
 He doth the gates of darkness bind 
 
 Infemi. 
 
Imitated from John Lydgate, the Monk of Bury. 
 
 The " Court of Sapience" was written by John Lydgate, Monk of Bury, in 
 the reign of Henry V. , and as it would seem, at the command of that 
 monarch. Only the First Book, containing the debate between Mercy 
 and Truth, Peace and Justice, is presented here, in a modernised ver- 
 sion. The Second Book gives a survey of the palace and domains of 
 Sapience, of various natural productions, and of the arts and sciences. 
 Dibdin, who notices the poem in his '' Typographical Antiquities," 
 hazards the conjecture that some vigorously executed stanzas In this 
 Second Book, relating to flowers, trees, and birds, may have supplied 
 Milton with materials for his description of Paradise. It is worthy of re- 
 mark, that in his enumeration of the arts and sciences Lydgate omits 
 LogiC'i and in place of it substitutes Faitk, He has much to say of 
 "Dame Musyk and her ladyes thre," to wit, Armonica, Rkythndca, 
 and Metrica ; and the Latin summary or conclusion of the Book (wherein 
 the poet would seem to have sacrificed his grammar to his rhyme) runs as 
 follows : — '* Explicit Tractatus de Fide, et Cantu famule sue." 
 
 Both as a true poel^ and as one faithful to his profession of regarding Song 
 as the handmaid of Faith, Lydgate deserves to be held in honourable 
 memory. His "Court of Sapience" Is the longest and the scarcest of 
 his poems. It was printed by Caxton, and a copy of the early printed 
 edition is preserved in the British Museum. 
 
 I. 
 
 All busy swimnung in a stormy flood 
 Of vain and fruitless musing sat I late, 
 Until at length methouglit it would be good 
 To utter tbat which I did meditate, 
 That haply some, astray in youth's estate, 
 
172 THE COURT OF SAPIENCE. 
 
 Might mark the things -j^hich them do cause unrest ; 
 And so to hed I went, with thought my guest. 
 
 The chess-player, ere he a man hath drawn. 
 Doth muse and ponder how he may advance 
 His king or queen, his knight, or rook, or pawn, 
 On each of these his careful eye doth glance ; 
 So each estate and worldly governance. 
 Fraught with some peril in my mind I saw. 
 Nor could I guess which piece was best to draw. 
 
 3- 
 
 My first desire was to push my king. 
 
 That he in prosperous wise might make his way ; 
 
 But in this game I noted well one thing, 
 
 "Where he at first is set, the king must stay. 
 
 He moves not till some pawn be drawn away ; 
 
 And so my wits soon found enough to do. 
 
 To guide king, pawn, and other pieces too. 
 
 4- 
 I smiled to see how grave Plulosophy 
 Had ordered all things in my game of chess ; 
 
THE COURT OP SAPIENCE. 1 73 
 
 It seemed a mirror of true Policy, 
 Three parts containing, if I rightly guess : 
 First, man must rule himself, and then possess 
 The mastery o'er his household, ere he can 
 Rule Uke a monarch o'er his fellow-man. 
 
 S. 
 The Grecian sage ^ hath marked these virtues three. 
 And by befitting names each one doth call ; 
 The first he terms domestic policy. 
 Economy the next, and last of all 
 The science that he names poUtical ; 
 I were a foolish chess-player, methought. 
 For none of all the three had I been taught. 
 
 Now o'er the chequered chess-board of my mind. 
 
 As erst I pondered the best move to make. 
 
 First came the world, — but Fortune proved unkind. 
 
 And gave me " check," and hope began to shake 
 
 As I beheld them all my pieces take ; 
 
 And soon they brought the game to such estate, 
 
 That ere I wist, I found myself checkmate. 
 
 ^ Aristotle. 
 
1/4 THE COURT OF SAPIENCE. 
 
 7. 
 
 Then Eeason came, and thus to me she said : 
 
 " "With changing fortune and false worldliness, 
 
 fool, hast thou thy little wit assayed 
 
 To stake thy game, and match with them at chess ' 
 
 Full well thou may'st thy simpleness confess ; 
 
 For if thou hope by skilful art or deed 
 
 To mate their wUes, thou wert a fool indeed." 
 
 Then was I sad ; and so I prayed a grace : 
 " Teach me (I cried) the way to Sapience, 
 That she may take and school me for a space. 
 For well I know my sinful negligence, 
 My foolishness — my utter ignorance ; " 
 So, lone and helpless, I began to weep. 
 And weeping like a child, I fell asleep. 
 
 9- 
 
 Then in my sleep my spirit seemed to pass 
 
 Into a wilderness forlorn and wide. 
 
 I gazed around, but wist not where I was ; 
 
 The tangled wood did darksome caverns hide 
 
 Where hungry beasts stalked in their savage pride. 
 
 O'er hill and dale my weary feet astray 
 
 Still wandered on, all reckless of the way. 
 
THE COURT OF SAPIENCE. 1 75 
 
 lO. 
 
 But soon I heard a shrill and piercing cry, — 
 
 I knew the wild wolves after me, and fled ; 
 
 A little path I faintly could descry, 
 
 Narrow and strait, with thorny briers spread, 
 
 A distant light its feeble glimmer shed ; 
 
 At length I struggled forth, all torn and rent, 
 
 And thanked God for the light which He had sent. 
 
 1 1. 
 And then a fair green meadow I espied. 
 Around whose borders sparkling waters played ; 
 A Lady, with two others by her side, 
 Came forth therefrom, to whom I reverence made, 
 And asked," What stream is this ? " — " It is (she said) 
 The Stream of quiet — I am Sapience, — 
 And with me. Science and Intelligence. 
 
 12, 
 
 " Divers in order, nature, and degree. 
 
 The office which each one of us doth hold ; 
 
 My portion is sublime divinity : 
 
 My sister in her knowledge doth enfold 
 
 In heaven and earth all creatures manifold, 
 
 "Whilst Science in the things of time hath skill ; 
 
 Thus all things high and low our ken do fill. 
 
176 THE COURT OF SAPIENCE. 
 
 13. 
 
 " Of all the three I hold the soTereignty, 
 
 And if ye list mine office to define, 
 
 'Tis I alone who perfect certainty 
 
 Of earthly things possess, and things divine ; 
 
 Aye fresh and green, a youthful heart is mine, 
 
 Youthful in seeming, but yet full of days. 
 
 For -wisdom is of elder hearts the praise. 
 
 14. 
 "The desert through the which I saw thee come, 
 Is the sad wilderness of worldly strife ; 
 Some leave its snares, and dwell with me at home, 
 A home with all delights and pleasures rife, 
 There shalt thou find grace, help, eternal life. — 
 But I have travelled far, and fain would rest, 
 Truly to-day my labour hath been blest." 
 
 IS. 
 Glad was I then, and falling on my knees, 
 With lifted hands I cried, " I am fuU fain 
 Thy slave to be, and thee in all to please ; 
 But, Ladye, mistress mine and soveraine, 
 Tell me, I pray, your labour and your pain." 
 That will I do (she said) full willingly. 
 Therefore give ear, and gladder shalt thou be. 
 
THE COURT OP SAPIENCE. 1 77 
 
 16. 
 
 A certain prince there was, of mighty fame, 
 
 Whose worthy deeds had won him great renown ; 
 
 Four daughters and a son did bear his name, 
 
 And in his house a vassal of his crown 
 
 In kindly love he cherished as his own ; 
 
 He gave him one command, the which he brake, 
 
 Wherefore he now must die, for justice' sake. 
 
 17- 
 Four torturers the king did call to him. 
 And bade one put him in a prison sore ; 
 The next should slowly flay him limb by limb, 
 The third should slay him, and the next devour : 
 The rumour quickly reached his daughters four, 
 Whose names were Mercy, Justice, Truth, and Peace, 
 But Mercy hoped his anger to appease. 
 
 18. 
 Adown she gazed into the dungeon deep. 
 And her loved servant saw she sitting there ; 
 With bleeding heart she tenderly did weep 
 Till her fair cheeks were stained with many a tear 
 And so unloosing her dishevelled hair, 
 She sought her Father, and full piteously 
 Besought his mercy on her bended knee. 
 
 M 
 
178 THE COURT OF SAPIENCE. 
 
 19. 
 " O King of kings ! most merciful ! " she cried ; 
 "Father of pity, Fount of grace divine 
 Unmeasured as the ocean's boundless tide, 
 Eternal Prince ! and Sovereign benign, 
 Whose gift of pity doth resplendent shine, 
 See thy poor slave, who lies iu prison bound, 
 And have thou mercy on my heart's deep wound ! 
 
 20. 
 " O'er all thy creatures thou hast chosen me ; 
 I am the image of thy beauteous face : 
 I am thy child, thy gem most heavenly. 
 The minister of all thy chiefest grace. 
 The food that feedeth poor humanity ; 
 Me thy divinest treasure dost thou name ! 
 O Prince of peace ! grant me the boon I claim. 
 
 21. 
 " Lo ! how I lowly wait on bended knee ; 
 My crystal eyes, see how their tear-drops rain ; 
 See how my rosy Hps all pierced be. 
 My pallid cheeks how sorrow doth distain, 
 Where beauty once, and every grace did reign ; 
 My bosom, too, with piteous sighs is rent, 
 For very grief my spirit waxeth faint. 
 
THE COURT OF SAPIENCE. 1 79 
 
 22. 
 
 " Ah ! if thou grant me yonder prisoner, 
 And give me leave to loose him out of pain, 
 This anguish sore, and all this heavy cheer. 
 To gladness thou shalt see restored again. 
 Thy vengeance. Father, wilt thou not restrain 1 
 Ah, show him grace, for he is penitent ! " 
 With that came Truth, and asked her what it 
 
 meant. 
 
 23. 
 Then spake her Father unto Truth, and said : 
 " I had a servant whom I loved full well ; 
 Him, under pain of death, I strictly bade 
 To keep one law ; but, passing strange to tell, 
 He scorned to keep that one command, and fell ; 
 Yea, on my very crown he cast his eye ; 
 Wherefore I doomed him traitor- like to die. 
 
 24- 
 
 " My daughter Mercy prays, with piteous tears, 
 
 That I would take him to my clemency. 
 
 For, since my love so copiously appears, 
 
 I needs must show it now ; so reasoneth she." 
 
 " Nay," Truth exclaimed, " Father, it may not be. 
 
 For thou art bound to that thou hast decreed : — 
 
 A traitor's doom for every trait'rous deed. 
 
l80 THE COURT OF SAPIENCE. 
 
 25- 
 
 " Bethink thee, I am Truth, thy best-loved child ; 
 'Tis mine to execute all verity ; 
 Without me heaven itself would be defiled, 
 And shorn and weak thine own Divinity ! 
 Thy will is law, what thou hast said shall be ; 
 And since thy word, ay, and thy purpose too. 
 Doom him to death, to death then let him go. 
 
 26. 
 " For truth demands thou waver not in this. 
 Stable thy sentence, and thy judgment just ; 
 Let right be done on him who does amiss : 
 Truth wills the sinner's death, and die he must." 
 Then whispered Mercy, " Nay, he is but dust ! 
 For if no milder rede thou hast to give. 
 What mortal creature may endure to live ? 
 
 27. 
 " Know ye not well that I am named Eternal ? 
 How deem you then my poVr you shall refrain ? 
 For I am Ladye in the realms supernal. 
 Though you on earth be queen and soveraine ; 
 My mighty grace is never void and vain ; 
 Therefore this contrite soul I must release. 
 Save him from death, and our dread Sire appease." 
 
THE COURT OF SAPIENCE. l8l 
 
 28. 
 
 " Eight well," said Truth,"thou dost defend thy part, 
 
 And for thy cause hast offered reasons fair ; 
 
 But to dispute with thee is not my art, 
 
 Truth to uphold is here mine only care. 
 
 I too Eternal am, as ye are 'ware ; 
 
 Of very force my Father must be true ; 
 
 How then your will, good Mercy, will ye do ? 
 
 29. 
 " Perchance thou thinkest that he will not break 
 His truth eterne by yielding thus for once ; 
 But wouldst thou not his very Godhead make 
 T' avow both hastiness and ignorance ? 
 Yea, and thou so wouldst scorn his prescience ; 
 Where were his kingUness, if this be gone ? 
 His Deity itself were all undone." 
 
 so- 
 Then answered Mercy, " Why was Mercy made. 
 If she may never set the captive free % 
 Why was my Father's thought on Mercy laid % 
 Why took he joy in thus creating me ? 
 For know'st thou not mine oflS.ce was to be 
 Of heavenly bliss the Advocate and Queen ? 
 Both men and angels on mine aid do lean. 
 
I 8 2 THE CO UR T OF SAPIENCE. 
 
 31- 
 
 " And if so be that Mercy were destroyed, 
 
 The heavenly courts would seem all dark and lorn, 
 
 My Father's kingdom empty were and void ; 
 
 Strange household would it be were I withdrawn. 
 
 Why of my queenhood, therefore, am I shorn 1 
 
 Yea, I demand it of my very right ; 
 
 Who shall withstand my sov'reignty and might ? " 
 
 32. 
 " Though all day you should argue," Truth replied, 
 
 " Methinks that you would argue fruitlessly; 
 
 No words may set my liberty aside ; 
 
 I am my Father's child as well as ye, 
 
 And Eighteousness,! I trow, will hold with me.'' 
 
 And with that word methought Truth ceased to speak. 
 
 And went her sister Righteousness to seek. 
 
 33- 
 G-oodly and fair, yet fearful to behold, 
 
 Came Eighteousness, all beaming full of light ; 
 
 Ne'er was she known to spare or young or old. 
 
 Her only watchword, to fulfil the right ; 
 
 " My sisters' strife," she said, with voice of might, 
 
 " I will discuss, and hear as they contend. 
 
 That I may bring the cause to righteous end. 
 
 ' Or Justice. 
 
THE COURT OF SAPIENCE. I83 
 
 34. 
 
 " Whate'er my Father had of trust and grace, 
 And kindhness, and goodly charity, 
 He on this servant shed, and made a place 
 Wherein he dwelt in joy and liberty ; 
 O'er earthly things the perfect sov'reignty 
 He gave into this trait'rous vassal's hand. 
 And bade them all incline to his command. 
 
 35- 
 " What thing on earth he could or might devise 
 For the heart's rest or body's sustenance. 
 Smiled on this favoured child in goodly wise ; 
 All things to him made their obeisance ; 
 Exiled from him was all unhappy chance, 
 Adversity and grief he never knew, 
 Whilst to his lord he lived as vassal true. 
 
 36. 
 " Yet one commandment did my Father give, 
 The which if he should break, it was decreed 
 That the foul traitor should no longer live, 
 But prisoned, flayed, and rent, should rue his deed ; 
 This, of such trespass, were his righteous meed ; 
 And both grim fear, and sweeter, gentler love 
 Unto the keeping of this law did move. 
 
1 84 THE COURT OF SAPIENCE. 
 
 37. 
 " Yet spite of all the goodness and the trust, 
 The faith, the love, the care, and kindliness. 
 Dared yonder slave a law so good and just 
 To scorn and break with all ungentleness, 
 And his Lord's will most foully to transgress ; 
 Wherefore of right he dies, as is decreed." — 
 " Ah me ! " quoth Peace, " that were a cruel deed." 
 
 38. 
 And at that word Peace showed her lovely face, 
 Whose person seemed a mirror of all bliss ; 
 With rosy lips smiling, and full of grace. 
 She bowed as though each creature she would kiss ; 
 Phoebus himself with all his beams would miss 
 The radiant brightness of that matchless brow. 
 Whose perfect purity no tongue may show. 
 
 39- 
 And on this wise she thus began to say : 
 " Oh, how is this ? Justice, do ye mean 
 Your sister Peace to banish quite away ? 
 That Mercy too may never more be seen. 
 And so grim Death shall reign alone as queen ? 
 What is it that ye do ? Ye would destroy 
 Our Father's realm, and take his chiefest joy ! 
 
THE COURT OF SAPIENCE. 1 8$ 
 
 40. 
 
 " Since every kingdom that is rent in twain 
 Within itself must needs be desolate, 
 Each one of us should study to sustain 
 Not to destroy, his kingdom and estate. 
 Among us four why should there be debate ? 
 Let Peace and Mercy have their gentle way, 
 It shall but wider spread my Father's sway ! 
 
 41. 
 " His kingdom is not one of strife and war. 
 His rule is all tranquillity and rest, 
 Because of which, his choicest titles are 
 The Prince of Peace, Father of Pity Blest, 
 Of mercy Lord and King he stands confest ; 
 Wherefore no more shall angry words avail, 
 It needs must be that gentle Peace prevail ! 
 
 42. 
 " The chiefest praise of this fair realm and nation 
 Is that it smiles, a paradise of peace ; 
 Then wherefore do ye make long disputation ? 
 I fain would bid your troublous words to cease : 
 My gentle mood with strife but ill agrees. 
 If your debate me from this realm dissever. 
 The quiet of the land is gone for ever. 
 
1 86 THE COURT OF SAPIENCE. 
 
 43- 
 
 " But since indeed there is a trespass done, 
 
 To Mercy let us yield the trespasser ; 
 
 It is her office to redress it soon, 
 
 For trespass as a mirror is to her, 
 
 It makes her goodness but the more appear ; 
 
 Yea, out of evil Mercy draws her might. 
 
 And without sin Mercy hath lack of light ! 
 
 44. 
 " There were no cure if sickness were unknown. 
 No ointment needed if there were no sore, 
 The cooling drink is called by thirst alone. 
 And Mercy needs that trespass go before. 
 But trespass without her were little store ; 
 If trespass there were none her smiles to crave. 
 Her choicest grace fair Mercy could not have. 
 
 45. 
 " Thou, Sister Truth, may'st still as princess reign, 
 If Falsehood ne'er dispute thy sov'reignty ; 
 So too may Eighteousness, fair sisters twain : 
 Yea, without tumult, even Peace may be ; 
 But gentle Mercy hath no property 
 Save out of trespass, whence she draws her might. 
 As from the sun the moon receives her light. 
 
THE COURT OF SAPIENCE. 1 8/ 
 
 46. 
 
 " Wherefore, my sisters, I would thus advise, 
 That Mercy we obey with one accord ; 
 Leave we these vain, contentious subtleties ; 
 For little things, as learned clerks record, 
 Agree with peace, and great things with discord ; 
 Let sharp contention then be pacified. 
 So shall we all incline to Mercy's side. " 
 
 47- 
 " Not so,'' said Truth, " I give not my assent."— 
 " No more," said Righteousness, " will I agree." 
 And with that word Truth to her Father went, 
 And thus she spake : " Constant Verity ! 
 
 Ground of Steadfastness, incline to me ! 
 Uphold the right, the sacred Truth defend, 
 Lo ! Eighteousness her sister doth befriend ! " 
 
 48. 
 Then forth came Righteousness, and kneeling down 
 Said, " Father, since mine office is to give 
 And mete a just reward to every one, 
 Death to all evil, to all virtue life. 
 And for no prayer to pity or forgive, 
 
 1 needs the cause of Truth must justify. 
 And thine own sacred Godhead glorify. 
 
1 88 THE COURT OP SAPIENCE. 
 
 49- 
 
 " Wherefore this case reyolving in my mind, 
 How soon thy servant turned him to offend, 
 How false he was, how cruel and unkind. 
 Ungrateful, too, to thee, his King and Friend ! 
 I am enforced this argument to end. 
 Wherefore my sentence is that he must die 
 The death which he hath earned most righteously." 
 
 50- 
 Now that thou have the full and true extent 
 Of this high cause (said Sapience unto me). 
 Know that this King is God Omnipotent, 
 Eeigning in Godhead one, in Persons three, 
 His Son is Christ our Lord, His daughters be 
 The attributes of His divinity, — 
 The slave is Adam, as ye well may see. 
 
 SI- 
 Return we now unto our tale again : — 
 As that stern doom of Righteousness she heard, 
 Mercy fell down pierced through with mortal pain ; 
 She might not bear so terrible a word. 
 Peace, too, in piteous ecstacy appeared. 
 And at the last, in accents sad and mild, 
 She said, " Alas ! Peace is for aye exiled ! " 
 
THE COURT OF SAPIENCE. 1 89 
 
 S-"-. 
 
 " Oh mercy, Father, see my sister lies 
 
 All faint and wan, dying for lack of breath ; 
 
 False Truth and most unrighteous Eighteousness 
 
 Against us both have given doom of death ; 
 
 I will not rest, but over hill and heath. 
 
 In exile wander, to return here never. 
 
 Father, farewell ! farewell this realm for ever ! 
 
 S3. 
 " Farewell, sweet sister, with thy sad, sweet face ! 
 Ah, weli-a-day that vengeance must prevail ! 
 Farewell, thou beaming light of this fair place. 
 Unto mankind thou may'st no more avail. 
 The shafts of hell thine heart shall now assail ! 
 Oh what a shadow o'er thy radiance fell, 
 Man once was thine, but now the slave. of hell ! 
 
 54. 
 " Ye Seraphim, lay down your armoury ! 
 Ye Cherubim, your glory cast away ! 
 Ye Thrones, henceforth hushed be your melody, 
 O'erthrown and fallen shall ye be for aye ! 
 See how your mistress and your queen doth lie 
 In fatal swoon, and mourn her piteous fate. 
 Farewell, farewell ! your house is desolate ! 
 
I go THE COURT OF SAPIENCE. 
 
 IS- 
 
 " sovereign Dominations, mighty lords, 
 
 Virtues and Powers and Principalities, 
 
 Bright ranks %vho stand around with gleaming swords 
 
 And all the throng of angel hierarchies ! 
 
 Your spouse, sweet Peace, is exiled ; let your eyes 
 
 Weep crystal tears, for she is gone, and all 
 
 Your bright array of orders nine must fall. 
 
 S6. 
 " Farewell, farewell ! for Mercy swoons away, 
 And Truth hath stood th' accuser of mankind ; 
 And Righteousness, whose hand ye may not stay. 
 Dooms him to die as cruel and unkind, 
 Mercy and Peace for him no grace may find. 
 Yet judgment cannot pass whilst Peace is here. 
 Wherefore sweet Peace must never more appear. 
 
 57- 
 " Woe to that reason that is reft of peace ! 
 Woe to the doom where mercy may not be ! 
 Woe to the wrath that knows not when to cease ! 
 Woe to the judgment without equity ! 
 And woe to truth without sweet charity ! 
 Woe to that judge who knows not how to save ! 
 Yea, woe to right that can no pity have ! 
 
THE COURT OF SAPIENCE. IQI 
 
 ■ S8. 
 
 " Farewell, ye starry hosts, radiant and bright, 
 Saturn and Mars, and flaming Mercury ! 
 Farewell, thou shining lady of the night ! 
 I was your guide, but banished now am I. 
 
 cruel Mars ! thy bloody ray I see, 
 Now may it freely shine, and all the ire 
 Of mighty Jove rain forth in darts of fire. 
 
 59- 
 " I was the queen who held you all together, 
 
 1 bridled you, and held you in accord ; 
 But now I go away, I wist not whither. 
 Your harmony shall change into discord. 
 sovereign of war ! mighty lord ! 
 Send now the comet, thy swift messenger. 
 To signify that battle draweth near ! 
 
 6o. 
 " When smiles the spring, and wintry cold is gone, 
 Perchance with mighty Jove thy rays may meet. 
 And June shall wither 'neath the burning sun 
 Which the green herb shall scorch with fiery heat ; 
 Th' infected air no cooling breeze shall greet, 
 But hot and cold, and storm and moist and dry, 
 Contend together for the mastery. 
 
192 THE COURT OF SAPIENCE. 
 
 61. 
 
 " Go then and fight, pour forth your wind and rain, 
 Hencefoi-th unbridled let your courses be, 
 For gentle Peace is gone who did refrain 
 And hold you all in sweet tranquillity. 
 Farewell, ye fields of heaven ! mine own country, 
 Father, farewell ! thy realm shall ne'er iucrease ! " 
 And with that word evanished gentle Peace ! 
 
 62. 
 Then Mercy's Brother, who was joy and bliss 
 Of all the court of heaven, only Son 
 Unto his royal Father, seeing this. 
 Did send for me full hastily to come. 
 " Sapience," he said, " thou surely art the one 
 Who with thy words shalt counsel in this need, 
 For, pierced with grief, my very heart doth bleed ; 
 
 63. 
 " For Peace is fled, and Mercy fainting lies 
 Forlorn and sad, who as a queen did reign : 
 All dreary be these fair empjrreal skies 
 Till Peace return and Mercy rule again : 
 Sapience, give thy counsel, for I fain 
 Mercy and Truth once more would reconcile, 
 And o'er the kingdom see Peace gently smile.'' 
 
THE COURT OF SAPIENCE. 1 93 
 
 64. 
 
 " Dread Lord, and Sovereign Master ! " I replied, 
 " Hard is tke case, and high the help must be 
 That should accord the strifes which now divide 
 This mighty kingdom, making to agree 
 Justice and Peace, stern Truth and Mercy free ; 
 Mercy would save, but Righteousness hath said 
 It must not be, and Peace the while, hath fled. 
 
 65. 
 " Each standeth firm, and fixed in her intent. 
 How may we hope their discord to allay ? 
 How shall their purpose be together blent. 
 Since two to two they stand in firm array "! 
 Whoso the case in studious wise doth weigh. 
 Shall see that he who would the tempest still. 
 Of all four sisters must perform the will." 
 
 66. 
 "But," answered He, "how best to please them all 
 And give to each their claim, do thou express ; 
 First to set free the captive now in thrall. 
 As Mercy wills, and then his guilt redress. 
 Yet not to grieve Truth and Dame Eighteousness : 
 And Peace recall ; ah ! say how may this be 
 Syth we be Godhead One in Persons Three. 
 
194 ^-^^ COURT OF SAPIENCE. 
 
 67. 
 
 " My Father is aye full of lasting might, 
 
 AU wisdom is delivered unto me, 
 
 Whilst goodness, like a blessed heavenly light, 
 
 The Holy Ghost hath as B[is property : 
 
 Yet wisdom, might, and goodness, are all three 
 
 Joined ia one will ; who then shall undertake 
 
 The work so masterful whereof ye spake ? " 
 
 68. 
 Then in deep thought awhile I gathered me, 
 UntU at last, I cried " Master mine, 
 This thing so great and mighty lies with Thee, 
 Full weU I trow the work of peace is Thine, 
 This may I show by arguments divine, 
 A^Tierefore that Thou at length mayst bring accord 
 Dispose Thyself as servant and as Lord ! 
 
 69. 
 " Thy Father's awful might, we well may deem 
 Mercy and Peace may never dare to face ; 
 So too the Holy Spirit, from whom stream 
 Torrents of every good, and every grace, 
 Truth deems too mild to hold the Judge's place, 
 For well she knows that He is Mercy's friend. 
 Wherefore 'tis Thou must bring a happ)' end. 
 
THE COURT OF SAPIENCE. 1 95 
 
 70. 
 
 " Yon slave desired not Thy Father's might, 
 Nor yet the goodness of the Holy Ghost, 
 At wisdom 'twas he aimed, with Thee to fight, 
 He smote Thy shield amid the heavenly host, 
 For which Thyself must answer, for Thou know'st 
 Not by another may the cause be won. 
 The help of all doth lie with Thee alone. 
 
 71. 
 " He then that seeks this strife to pacify, 
 Must be the Son of Man, born of mankind. 
 And for man's guilt, all guiltless he must die, 
 That so the guilty slave he may unbind ; 
 One Son alone the Trinity may find, 
 Which Son Thou art, wherefore it needs must be 
 This solemn act belongeth unto Thee." 
 
 72. 
 When Sapience thus far spake, I cried again, 
 " noble ladye, ere ye shall proceed. 
 Vouchsafe unto thy servant to explain 
 Why wisdom, might, and goodness, as I rede, 
 Unto Three Persons, should in very deed 
 Assigned be, — are they not equal all. 
 And co-eterne, and consubstantial % " 
 
196 THE COURT OF SAPIENCE. 
 
 Ti- 
 
 " My son," she answered, " thou hast rightly said : 
 In might and will and goodness they are Kke : 
 And of one substance of the same Godhead : 
 And yet forsooth thou namest them aright 
 When thou dost call the Father, full of might, 
 The Son, all wise, the Holy Spirit, good : 
 Therein a mystery is understood. 
 
 74- 
 " On earth unto a father doth belong 
 Old age with all its weak infirmity, 
 A son courageous is, mighty and strong, 
 Yet oft times full of instability. 
 And spirit is a name of cruelty. 
 Of stubborn pride and haughtiness unkind, 
 These characters in each one shalt thou find. 
 
 75- 
 " Wherefore in heavenly things, the chiefest might 
 Eests with the Father, on the Son is shed 
 Eternal wisdom's ever-beaming light, 
 Whilst with the Spirit's holy name is wed 
 The property of goodness as of right : 
 Yet greater or more excellent is none 
 But each hath all, and all the Three are One." 
 
THE COURT OF SAPIENCE. 1 97 
 
 76. 
 And now the ending of my story hear ; 
 Dame Mercy's brother, He of whom I spake, 
 On this wise answered : " Thou hast made it clear, 
 Wherefore right gladly will I undertake 
 The thing thou dost propose, for Mercy's sake : 
 Hard though it be for thankless man to die, 
 For Her it shall be done full cheerily." 
 
 n- 
 
 Wherefore He firmly purposed in His will, 
 For the whole race of man to satisfy. 
 Give death for life, and purchase good with ill, 
 And meekly to lay down His sovereignty ; 
 Yea, and the angels too were moved to see 
 Man's low estate, and sought how they might find 
 Some way to help and save poor lost mankind. 
 
 78. 
 Therefore these Holy Ones to council went, 
 The loving Seraphim, the Cherubs sage. 
 All prayed for man ; it was their one intent 
 He might return to his lost heritage. 
 Out from the dark abyss, the gloomy cage 
 Of sin and thraldom, wherein he had lain 
 Four thousand years, — and ne'er fall back again. 
 
igS THE COURT OF SAPIENCE. 
 
 79. 
 
 The hierarchy that stood most near the Throne 
 
 With heavenly voice, piteous and delicate, 
 
 In solemn adoration kneeled them down, 
 
 " God," they said, " on whom all creatures wait, 
 
 Behold us suitors unto Thine estate, 
 
 O hear us as for man we intercede, 
 
 And to our prayer, most mighty God, take heed ! 
 
 80. 
 " Thee to behold it is our highest grace, 
 Our Ufe, our joy, our everlasting bliss, 
 The mighty glory beaming from Thy face, 
 Ah ! no created thing may utter this ! 
 And since that man so like unto Thee is. 
 Yea ! in Thine image formed ; why lies he now 
 Cast out of bliss, in dungeon dark and low ! 
 
 81. 
 " What honour is it to Thy Deity 
 That He, Thy very likeness, who was made 
 The heir of light and Thine own chUd to be. 
 Should droop and languish in the chilhng shade 
 Of that dark prison-house where he is laid % 
 Oh, of that woe what tongue may tell the sharpness 
 And wilt Thou have him ever dwell in darkness ? 
 
THE COURT OF SAPIENCE. 1 99 
 
 82. 
 
 " Wherefore we pray Thee, Lord of love and grace 1 
 Some pity on Thy fallen creature take ; 
 Unloose his bonds, his fettered limbs release, 
 Destroy not him for Thine own honour's sake. 
 Whom in Thy Godlike Image Thou didst make ; 
 Now is the time of mercy and of peace, 
 The hour is come, let Thy vengeance cease ! " 
 
 83. 
 Then knelt them down the second hierarchy, 
 And humbly said : " Sovereign Lord of all ! 
 Us Thou didst make Thy might to magnify, 
 And to observe Thy law imperial ; 
 As vassals true we wait our Master's call, 
 To guard Thy realm and serve Thee as our Sire, 
 Like valiant knights who do their Lord's desire. 
 
 84. 
 " From out our ranks the prince of darkness drew 
 Some captive spirits, lords of each estate ; 
 Then man was made, with whom Thou hadst in view 
 To fill once more these ranks left desolate : 
 But well-arday ! Whereto was he create. 
 Since the fierce lion of all cruelty 
 In his dark hate of him must sovereign be ! 
 
200 THE COURT OF SAPIENCE. 
 
 85. 
 
 " say, how long shall these angelic thrones, 
 These mighty princedoms, void and empty be ? 
 How long wilt Thou keep out Thy chosen ones ? 
 Since Thou art Life, shall death have sovereignty? 
 If Thou be king, to Thine own honour see ! 
 Take man by conquest, and the foul fiend chain. 
 And o'er Thy realm sweet Peace shall once more reign ! 
 
 86. 
 " Four thousand years suffice they not to fill 
 The measure of Thy fallen creatures' woes ; 
 Lo ! hell is populous with souls, — and still 
 Not one is sent to fill our broken rows : 
 O look on man, redeem him from his foes, 
 For now is time of mercy and of peace, 
 The hour is come, let Thy vengeance cease ! " 
 
 87. 
 Th' archangels, then, with all their hierarchy, 
 Knelt down, and said with utterance benign, 
 " Thou knowest, Lord, how quick we are to fly 
 Where'er Thy sovereign wisdom may assign, 
 To do Thy will, all loving and divine ! 
 Yea, 'tis our will, Thy wiU, in all to do. 
 And serve Thee in Thy realm as vassals true ! 
 
THE COURT OF SAPIENCE. 201 
 
 88. 
 " Thy glad and ready messengers we are ; 
 But tlirough Thy realm wherever we be sent, 
 We search in vain, for Peace is fled afar, 
 And Mercy lieth weeping, faint, and spent, 
 For Truth, and Righteousness will not assent 
 To save mankind : thus wheresoe'er we turn, 
 Nought do we see save discord sharp and stern. 
 
 " Our foes meanwhile their triumph may not hide 
 WhUst Thine own children all divided be. 
 Thy power shall never more be glorified, 
 TUl Thou shalt make their discord to agree ; 
 Lord ! Thine elder mercies let us see, 
 All things with Thee are possible ! Eestore 
 Thy fallen child, and bless him as of yore. 
 
 90. 
 " The father's heart should be right pityful. 
 And for his lost and absent children grieve. 
 Wherefore we pray, Prince most merciful ! 
 Let gentle Peace return, and give her leave 
 To greet the captive with a full reprieve, 
 For now is time of mercy and of peace, 
 The hour is come, bid thy vengeance cease ! " 
 
202 THE COURT OF SAPIENCE. 
 
 91- 
 
 Then as they spoke, arose the mighty King, 
 The gracious Father, the all-powerful Lord, 
 The rose of justice ; fountain and well-spring 
 Of every good, by every tongue adored, 
 Holding th' imperial crown, the victor's sword ;— 
 He saw His realm torn by that strife unkind, 
 And in His heart to pity He inclined. 
 
 92. 
 He heard how sad and piteously complained 
 The heavenly court, now rent and desolate ; 
 He saw how Mercy's cheeks with tears were stained, 
 How Peace, his child, was exiled from the state, 
 And how mankind groaned in their lost estate ; 
 Then did His heart for pity's sake wax sore, 
 Longing the wretched captive to restore. 
 
 93- 
 To Mercy first the Sovereign Master turned ; 
 Weeping, she stood as never tongue may tell, 
 how His love, to soothe her anguish, yearned ! 
 His tear-drops as of dew all gently fell ; 
 His blessed Son beheld them, and full well 
 He guessed His Father's will, His purpose knew. 
 And joyous rose prepared that will to do. 
 
THE COURT OF SAPIENCE. 2O3 
 
 94. 
 
 So kneeling down, He said, " Father of might, 
 I am thy Son, with grace and wisdom rife. 
 And well I wot. Thou farest not aright, 
 In that thy children are at war and strife ; 
 Then give the cause to me, Lord of Life ! 
 I will do justice unto each, and win 
 The fallen race of man from death and sin ! " 
 
 95- 
 Then spake the Father thus : " sweetest Son ! 
 Thy ready will, for ever blessed be ! 
 Do what thou wilt to save the fallen one : 
 Th' Eternal Godhead, One, in Persons Three, 
 First made mankind — Th' Eternal Deity 
 Shall now in Thee man's very nature take. 
 And bear the pain of sin, for sinners' sake." 
 
 96. 
 " With humble heart to hear and do Thy will," 
 Eeplied the Son, " with firm and glad desire. 
 Behold me here Thy pleasure to fulfil. 
 Thy love divine to worship and admire ; 
 Th' imperial rights of Thee my royal Sire 
 I will preserve, and do Thy whole intent ; " 
 With that He rose, and to His sister went. 
 
204 THE COURT OF SAPIENCE. 
 
 97. 
 
 Then did He raise her up, and gently kiss 
 
 And press her close unto His heart, and said, 
 
 " Mercy sweet ! princess of all bliss ! 
 
 sister mine ! fair and goodly maid ! 
 
 Say ! why with these salt tears be ye array'd ? 
 
 For I am He shall bid your sorrow cease. 
 
 And save mankind, and bring back gentle Peace ! 
 
 " Raise up your eyes — behold ! I am your Brother, 
 Your life, your hope, your joy, your champion brave. 
 And for your sake, myself shall, and no other. 
 Take flesh and die, and triumph o'er the grave, 
 Mine own right arm poor lost mankind shall save. 
 And bring to you, that so, his ransom paid. 
 He, mortal now, immortal shall be made ! 
 
 99- 
 " This will I do to soothe and comfort you. 
 And your sweet sov'reignty to magnify ! 
 Full manfully I will my devoir do, 
 And think on you as on mine own ladye 
 To fight and gain a glorious victory ! 
 Bring every gift, give truth and right their claims, 
 And lead captivity in captive chains ! " 
 
THE COURT OF SAPIENCE. 205 
 
 loo. 
 Then Mercy raised her gentle head again ; 
 She heard His words like honied ointment pour ; 
 She thanked Him as the cure of all her pain, 
 She kissed Him, and she loved Him more and more ! 
 " Prince ! " she said, " you shall my rights restore. 
 What may I do your kindness to deserve, 
 Ready for my poor sake to live and serve ! 
 
 lOI. 
 
 " my sweet brother ! my chosen knight ! 
 You are my wounded heart's support and rest ! 
 I fain my thanks would utter, and requite 
 Your passing love, but know not what is best, 
 
 prince benignest, — wisest, — worthiest ! 
 
 1 am your own, command me as ye list ! " 
 So all was well, and each the other kissed. 
 
 I02. 
 
 Then counsel took th' Eternal Trinity, 
 And sent their angel messenger to greet 
 Fair Sion's virgin daughter, and to say 
 That to their high behest it seemed meet 
 The Son of God Incarnate should complete 
 The work of man's salvation ; wherefore she 
 Was chosen Mother of her God to be. 
 
206 THE COURT OF SAPIENCE. 
 
 103. 
 
 In lowly wise the message she received, 
 Handmaid of God, prepared to do His will. 
 The Holy Ghost o'ershadowed her, and breathed 
 Into her heart, His Spirit to instil ; 
 The Son of God, her virgin form doth fill, 
 Made flesh of her, man's very flesh doth take. 
 Himself the Saviour of mankind to make. 
 
 104. 
 He knew the cause of his four sisters' strife, 
 And by what sentence man should punished be, 
 First in the prison of this present life, 
 A prey to sickness and adversity. 
 To die at last, and then aU cruelly 
 By worms to be devoured in his grave : — 
 Hard was the doom which sinful man should have. 
 
 105. 
 Therefore was He in darksome prison thrown. 
 All torn with scourges, nailed upon the Rood, 
 To die for sin who never sin had known. 
 His holy flesh was rent and marred with blood. 
 Three days within the grave that flesh abode. 
 Then glorious rose, unloosed the captive's chain. 
 And took Him in eternal bliss to reim ! 
 
THE COURT OF SAPIENCE. 20/ 
 
 Io6. 
 
 And then He raised to heaven, and crowned her queen, 
 Mary ! His sweetest Mother, blessed maid, 
 That she might pray for men, and o'er them lean 
 To shelter and protect them, and He bade 
 Mercy to be her child, whereon she said 
 That she for man would ever intercede, 
 And with sweet Mercy for the sinner plead. 
 
 107. ■ 
 And unto Mercy thus He goodly spake, 
 " To you, my fairest sister, have I brought," 
 With double honour all those for whose sake 
 Whilome ye prayed, and all your will have wrought ; 
 For righteously and truly have I bought 
 Man with my blood ; his ransom was My pain. 
 So truth and right may never more complain. 
 
 108. 
 " If thankless man turn back again to guilt, 
 Against the kindness which I now have done. 
 And truth and right doom that his blood be spilt, 
 Yet your desire ye shall obtain, right soon. 
 If my sweet Mother come and ask the boon. 
 And say, ' My son, think on Thy blood once shed. 
 It was for man you died, for man you bled ! 
 
208 THE COURT OF SAPIENCE. 
 
 109. 
 
 " ' Think how of man I came, and am thy Mother, 
 And thou my Lord, my Maker, and my Child ; 
 Thou too art man, and man is thine own brother, 
 He is right dear unto thy Mother mild ; 
 If therefore man offend with trespass wild, 
 Eemember Thou hast bought him with Thy blood. 
 And for my sake let go Thine angry mood. 
 
 1 10. 
 
 " ' To die for man, and then Thy purchase lose. 
 Ah, sweetest Son ! it were but little gain ! 
 Oh, who in earth or heaven could suppose 
 An act so mighty should be rendered vain, 
 As this would be, if he be lost again ! 
 Surely the precious ransom Thou hast paid 
 Against his sins for ever may be weighed ! 
 
 1 11. 
 
 " ' A double claim Thou hast, of property. 
 In every man for each one Thou didst make. 
 And of redemption, being saved by Thee ; 
 Wherefore if he Thy loving law should break. 
 And dare Thy rule and guidance to forsake, 
 He still is Thine, created first, then bought. 
 And to contest Thy rights availeth nought. 
 
THE COURT OF SAPIENCE. 209 
 
 112. 
 
 " 'The more, methinks, that Thou for man hast done, 
 The more on him should rest Thy loving thought, 
 For by the might of conquest was he won. 
 Amid the strife of battle saved and brought ; 
 More sweet is love, more dearly it is bought, 
 All this if Thou within Thy mind revolve, 
 Thy love for man nothing shall now dissolve ! 
 
 " * But yet the more Thy mercy to excite. 
 Behold me, sweetest Son, on bended knee, 
 Behold this breast wherein with all delight 
 Thy Virgin Mother nursed and cradled Thee, 
 Behold the flesh whereof Thou deign'dst to be, 
 Behold the lap whereon Thou oft hast laid. 
 Behold Thy spouse. Thy Mother, and Thy maid 1 
 
 114. 
 " ' And for all this take pity upon man, 
 For next Thyself to me they dearest are ; 
 Thou knowest how the sword of sorrow ran 
 Eight through my heart, when on the Eood I saw 
 Thy form which bloody wounds did rend and mar ; 
 Since then in pain I had my part with Thee, 
 My prayer for man, sweet Son, grant Thou roe ! ' 
 
210 THE COURT OF SAPIENCE. 
 
 "5- 
 
 " Thus shall My Mother say, if man offend, 
 
 To win the Judge on mercy's side to lean ; 
 
 Yea, I myself his trepass to amend. 
 
 Will show My bleeding wounds, all fresh and green, 
 
 In hands and feet and side they shall be seen ; 
 
 Ah ! if My Father's wrath Hke fire burn. 
 
 Beholding them, to mercy will He turn ! 
 
 n6. 
 " Therefore, sweet sister, glad and joyous be, 
 Here is your man, do with him what ye list." 
 Then knelt she down, and took him thankfully. 
 And lovingly embraced, and oft times kissed, 
 No tongue may tell the joy her spirit wist j 
 She knew not for pure gladness where to go, 
 Her perfect gladness ran all heaven through. 
 
 117. 
 Then forth He went to seek His sister Truth, 
 And said, " Sweet sister, are ye well content 1" 
 " My brother," she replied, " I am full sooth j 
 Though man indeed was proud and negligent, 
 More than I asked hath been his punishment. 
 Then on He passed to find Dame Eighteousness, 
 And asked the sanie of her, who answered thus : 
 
THE COURT OF SAPIENCE. 2 1 1 
 
 Il8. 
 
 " My brother ! man's ingratitude and hate 
 Hath been more punished than myself I sought, 
 Between us then be there no more debate : " 
 And as she spoke the word, as quick as thought 
 Returned sweet Peace ; the work of love w 
 
 wrought, 
 Mercy and Truth once more met face to face, 
 And Peace and Eight did tenderly embrace. 
 
 119. 
 To which embrace, O mighty Prince of Peace, 
 Bring us for whom Thou diedst on the Eood, 
 And in Thy tender pity grant me grace 
 To please Thee, and to utter what is good ; 
 save and gather me from out the flood 
 Of worldly thoughts, that I may find my way. 
 Unto the kingdom of eternal day ! 
 
 [5isr« endeth the First Booh of the " Gourt of Sapience," 
 wherein Mercy and Truth have met together, and Justice 
 and Peace have hissed one another.'] 
 
 BURNS AND OATES, LONDON 
 
II University Library 
 
 PR4627.D45S61887 
 
 Songs in the night, and other poems.By th 
 
 3 1924 013 343 508