_„ ,„ Cornell University Library 
 
 PR 5548.T61 1891 
 
 Poems; collected from notebooks, 
 
 3 1924 013 557 875 
 
The original of tliis bool< 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/cu31924013557875 
 
poems 
 
 BY 
 
 ARTHUR M. C. TAYLOR 
 
 Written between the ages of 16 cmd 23 Years 
 
 BORN JANUARY 12th, 1864 
 DIED DECEMBER 23rd, 1889 
 
 COLLECTED FROM NOTE-BOOKS AND PRINTED FOR 
 PRIVATE CIRCULATION 
 
 I89I 
 
Boreas anb ©rcltb^ia. 
 
 Phcedrus. " Tell rae, Socrates — wasn't it somewhere near here, when 
 one comes to think, that Boreas is Eaid to have carried oif the Nymph 
 Oreithyia?" 
 
 Socrates. " That is the tale." 
 
 Phced. "Was it from this spot, do you think? there's a pleasant 
 look, at all events, about the water ; it's quite clear and transparent — 
 just the place for maidens to play beside." 
 
 Soe. "No, it's two or three furlongs further down, where you cross 
 to the temple of Agra. There 's a temple to Boreas close by there." 
 
 FTiiBd. " I hardly think I've noticed it. But tell me, Socrates, 
 seriously — Do you think this legend is true ? " 
 
 Soc. " Well, if I disbelieve it, like our modem wiseacres, I shouldn't 
 be singular. And I might go on to rationalism, and say that a blast of 
 the northern wind thrust her down the neighbouring crags, as she was 
 playing with Pharmacia, and so having died, she was said to have 
 been flown away with by Boreas ; or, I might say, from the Areopagus. 
 For there's another version of the story to the effect that she was 
 carried off from there, and not from here. For myself, Phsedrus, I 
 think such explanations very pretty." 
 
 From Plato's Fhcedrus. 
 
 Endymion slept upon his marble stairs : 
 Cold was his resting-place but sound his sleep, 
 Tor Cynthia gazed all loving through the night. 
 But soon dreams troubled him ; Aurora's blush 
 Paled Cynthia's cheek with shame for Cynthia's love. 
 Great Aictos' light was lessened, and the stars 
 Sunk one by one into their land of rest. 
 
Boreas and Oreithyia. 
 
 Not long Aurora glowed wjben from the tip 
 
 Of a proud citadel light echoed back, 
 
 Startled. Soon towers came into view, and soon 
 
 Portals and palaces of royal state. 
 
 'Twas Athens— Athens the far-famed for freedom. 
 
 And now Apollo starting on his course 
 
 Made clearer soon, valleys and hills and bays ; 
 
 Valleys where sheep well- pastured, wandering ■ 
 
 Fearless of wolves and robbers, roamed at will ; 
 
 Hills where the goats in steady safety climbed. 
 
 And wondered oft to see their mirrored selves 
 
 Wavering uncertain in the tide below. 
 
 But early still it was : no shepherd's pipe 
 
 Played yet awhile to greet the coming day, 
 
 And near the city all was silent yet, 
 
 Save where Alector from some distant vineyard 
 
 Crowed, but in vain, to wake the sleeping people 
 
 And rouse them to their daily busy tasks. 
 
 Such peace as this, and plenty, ruled the land. 
 
 And were all eyes but thine, O Muse, enchained 
 
 As yet to the influence of all-conquering sleep ? 
 
 fairest Muse ! One maid as fair as thou, 
 
 1 dare to whisper, watched Aurora rise — 
 Sweet Oreithyia risen before the dawn. 
 
 For well she loved, e'en while the shades of night 
 
 Had scarcely fled, to rise from off her couch, 
 
 And from some turret of the mighty pile 
 
 To give her welcome to the coming light. 
 
 And to her well-beloved, her native Athens. 
 
 And yet there was that Oreithyia loved 
 
 Better than coming or departing light, — 
 
 Loved almost as a second father-land. 
 
 The sea it was — the wild despairing ocean, 
 
 Its ceaseless restlessness, its rise and fall, 
 
 Vexed repetitions rung into long changes, 
 
 A thousand, thousand old monotonies. 
 
 And so when she her greeting had bestowed 
 
 First on the morn, and next on lovely Athens, 
 
 Adown the steps she tripped of the high tower, 
 
 And unattended passed (for who would dare 
 
 Molest a royal maiden tho' alone?) 
 
 Along the passages all grimly paved. 
 
 But with such lightness and such softest motion, 
 
 B 2 
 
4 Boreas and Oreithyia. 
 
 That scarce a stone betrayed her presence there. 
 
 At last she came to where the palace door, 
 
 Shut fast, enclosed the slumbering household safe. 
 
 But bolts flew back, urged rather as it seemed 
 
 By love, or by most swift obedience 
 
 To her sweet will than by her finger's force, 
 
 And out she tripped, leaving a trail of light. 
 
 Another flight of steps, and then across 
 
 A space again all paved, and now she came 
 
 Into the garden of her royal father. 
 
 Forming fit home for such a maid as she. 
 
 There spread green lawns of softest mossy turf. 
 
 Inlaid with Daisies irrepressible, 
 
 With Hawkweed and the lesser Celandine, 
 
 And overspread with trees of deepest shade. 
 
 There Cedars, ancient from Mount Libanus, 
 
 Brought by Phoenician sailors in their barks. 
 
 Their tangled branches spread, now to the sun. 
 
 Now to the wind, when Eurus swept the seas. 
 
 As when a band of warriors in the fight 
 
 Sore stricken, and bereft of all defence, 
 
 Stand yet at bay, so stood those Cedars old. 
 
 And, stubborn, still defied the storms of Zeus. 
 
 Southward the lawns spread in uneven slopes. 
 
 And most uneven on the farthest right. 
 
 There Oaks grew, sprung as seedlings from the Oaks 
 
 Of famed Dodona's goddess-haunted groves. 
 
 And not symmetrical : their settled stems 
 
 All tanned and weather-beaten, whilst among 
 
 Their mossy roots in dark recesses bloomed 
 
 The drooping Snowdrop and sweet Violet, 
 
 With Dafi^odils and white Parnassus flowers. 
 
 Here G-arlic, scentless, grew; here Aconite, 
 
 Enchanter's Nightshade, and false Asphodel, 
 
 With hundred heads, such as Demeter's child 
 
 Led to the losing of her liberty. 
 
 Forgot their wiles and aU as sisters bloomed 
 
 With Maidenshair and Heartsease. 
 
 Nor was this all the garden : on the left 
 
 Grew Poplars slim and pointing to the sky. 
 
 So tall were they that scarce Apollo's dart 
 
 Might reach their tips from his own silver bow. 
 
 Hard by the wall those tips and mossy roots 
 
Boreas and Oreithyia. 5 
 
 First caught, then bore the eye in straightest line, 
 
 Perspectively, along horizon-wards. 
 
 Where through these woodlands wild, untouched by hand 
 
 Of any gardener, trickled rivulets 
 
 To join their tiny waters to the flood 
 
 Of swift Ilyssus foaming to the Ocean. 
 
 On such a scene 
 Gazing a moment stood the lovely maid. 
 Surrounded all by flowers of royal hues. 
 By Tulips, Poppies, Crown Imperials, 
 Such as proud Tarquin with his sceptre slew, 
 Mock massacre of nobles, and the heads 
 Scattered broadcast upon their dewy leaves. 
 Not long she stood, but starting on her way 
 Tripped through the portal, and the sleeping guard 
 Smiling she passed, and sweeter were their dreams. 
 There on the right stood Pallas, on the left 
 Poseidon stood, in marble efQgy. 
 Could ye not speak? one word, one tear — but no, 
 Marble is dumb and stony hearts are stUl. 
 So on she thoughtless passed, and omenless 
 Of all her danger, and low singing went. 
 This was the burden of the maiden's song : 
 "O Zeus, I thank thee for my blessed home; 
 "I thank thee for my father and my friends; 
 "I thank thee for my life and liberty!" 
 And thus she sang, not once, nor twice, but oft. 
 Until she reached the summit of the cliff 
 Whither she bent her steps ; and now she turned 
 And looked once more upon her native home. 
 She saw the scene reversed : there stood the Oaks, 
 There were the Poplars, there the lawns, and there 
 The palace front she could descry between 
 The Cedar branches. 
 
 Once again she sang 
 That same short song of gratitude to Zeus. 
 Her heart was full and tears outburst, but why 
 She could not tell ; and quick she turned away 
 To the sea. There met her eyes a well-known sight ; 
 And yet again she wept. 
 
 Danced at her feet 
 The blue Saronic Gulf, and far away 
 .ffigina and a host of little isles 
 
6 Boreas and Oreithyia. 
 
 Eose to the light. In farthest distance too 
 
 Calauria lay, and coasts of Argos, soon 
 
 Famed to the world by deeds of deadliest note. 
 
 And up the shore appeared in nearer view, 
 
 For nobler deeds renowned, fair Salamis. 
 
 Long had the maiden gazed and filled her soul 
 
 With loves and yearnings of the sea and sky, 
 
 For on that sultry day the ocean seemed 
 
 Calmer than e'er before, the summer sky 
 
 Of purer, deeper, blue, all nature seemed 
 
 From storms and tempests of her wayward will 
 
 Besting a sabbath, and no sound was heard 
 
 Save the soft ripple of the breathing sea 
 
 Against the rocks beneath, or where the bees 
 
 Surrounded all the flowers with murmurs low. 
 
 As when a fawn, weary of wandering 
 
 Upon the upland lawns of heathy turf, 
 
 Apart the herd has bent her supple knees 
 
 And softly sunk upon the chosen couch, 
 
 And closed her eyes, tired with the light, and so 
 
 Securely sleeps, until a sudden sound 
 
 As of a huntsman, hound, or savage beast 
 
 Scenting her trail, thus on the listening earth 
 
 And swiftly echoing wakes her practised ear 
 
 And lifts her head to try the friendly breeze : 
 
 So now the maiden, startled as from sleep, 
 
 Turned from the sea and listened towards the North. 
 
 O Muse, thy heavenly aid again I call, 
 
 Daughter of Zeus ! for without help from Heaven 
 
 Vain were my song, and vain my poor attempts 
 
 To tell my tale, if thou be not my guide ; 
 
 Thou art his messenger. O teach me then. 
 
 What sound was that which moved the maiden so 
 
 And called her thoughts from that cabn scene away. 
 
 And troubled them, and with foul fears perplexed ? 
 
 A sound she heard, like to the hollow sound 
 
 Of Boreas' rising when he sweeps the plains 
 
 Of arid Thrace and lays the sand along 
 
 The new-formed ridges, soon obliterating 
 
 All earlier landmarks and the long-drawn tracks 
 
 Of such few creatures as may haunt these wilds, 
 
 Foxes and hares, and mountain rats, and men :> 
 
 These all he sends scudding along the plains. 
 
Boreas and Oreithyia. 7 
 
 All in like' danger, to the nearest cave :' 
 
 And some he overtakes, and still alive 
 
 Buries beneath the sand : they grovelling there 
 
 Struggle in vain to lift that funeral pall, 
 
 And through their stifled nostrils part with Ufe. 
 
 And novf the plains o'er-traversed, in his course 
 
 The rocks he reaches, where up-pUed they rise 
 
 And bar the exit. Then with fury filled 
 
 At such impediment, he draws his strength, 
 
 And struggling up the Hyperborean mountains 
 
 He clasps the boulders, and with power divine 
 
 Whirls them revolving to the plains below, 
 
 And all the hills resound with sullen roar. 
 
 Sounds such as these through the still magic air 
 
 Stmck on the maiden's hearing, and she turned 
 
 Quickly to listen, and the air was now 
 
 No longer still ; but trouble seemed abroad, 
 
 And softly stealing agitation infinite 
 
 Swiftly crept o'er the changing scene around. 
 
 And first she listened to the whispering trees 
 
 Below her, Athens-ward, between her home 
 
 And where she stood, they seemed to tell the approach 
 
 Of some divinity, some God of air. 
 
 While stirring all to greet him and to do 
 
 Hjs bidding ; then she heard the waves awake 
 
 And answer to the warning, and the clouds, 
 
 Before invisible, came trooping up 
 
 Eank after rank, forerunners of the G-od. 
 
 And next the God himself. As from a peak 
 
 Of Tempo's mountains from his eyrie wild. 
 
 Heedless of all the rocking storm below 
 
 And shivering lightnings, heedless of the crash 
 
 Of falling crag, Zeus-struck, and of the rush 
 
 Of weltering waters, heedless of the roar 
 
 Of awful chaos, loud redoubled round 
 
 By all the mountains, launches into space 
 
 The King of birds, and floating onward seeks 
 
 Some new-born lambkin for his hungry brood. 
 
 Soft-bedded on the fair Thessalian plain. 
 
 So now fell Boreas onward, onward, flew. 
 
 Alas for Oreithjda ! thou didst look 
 
 With one impassioned glance toward the home, 
 
 Deep where it lay embosomed in the slopes 
 
8 Boreas and Oreithyia. 
 
 Of Lord Erecktheus' land ; companionless 
 
 Thou, the King's daughter, on the King's own soil 
 
 Must meet the robber wind, the awful God, 
 
 Who roused all nature to the avenging sense 
 
 Of Oreithyia's wrongs. No time for flight, 
 
 Tor unavailing flight, no time to cry 
 
 One unavailing ciy: unheard, unseen 
 
 By eye of man, thou must be wrapt away 
 
 From Athens : now doth Boreas lift thee ; now 
 
 Thy clinging feet at once renounce their hold. 
 
 All effortless ; swiftly across the field 
 
 Of waves, now lashed to furious rage, he bears thee. 
 
 Softly enchained within his winnowy arms. 
 
 Seized with a stronger current of fierce love 
 
 Than he could stem, he clasped the maiden firm 
 
 And flew, over the mountains, shores and sounds, 
 
 With steady wing to penetrate the air. 
 
 Vain were her cries for help to Gods and men. 
 
 Vain was the maiden's strength in such a grip. 
 
 For what could pierce the sounds of Boreas' rush. 
 
 And what can conquer force of love and wind ? 
 
 "0 beauteous Oreithyia, lull thy fears 
 "And rest thee calmly in thy lover's arms : 
 "Well have I loved thee, and I love thee now 
 " Better than e'er before. Be not deceived, 
 "Argue not falsely from this deed of mine, 
 " 'This love is over-rash and will not last, 
 " But as a spark will flash and fade and die : ' 
 " O say not so, sweet maiden ! rather say, 
 "'If so the spark is bright, then what the flame?'" 
 He said, and paused, doubtful, to watch the effect 
 Of these fair words upon the maiden's heart. 
 "O Boreas, for I know full well," she said, 
 "Thou canst none other be, I will not argue 
 "Falsehood but truth from this thy headlong act!" 
 He swiftly wings his way through th' airy realms, 
 And lands at last in Thrace, dry barren Thrace, 
 Where wind and sand in mingled chaos burn. 
 
 She stood and cried 
 Zeus ! Father, save ! and soon she drooped, and leant 
 Her languid head against the barren crag. 
 And so reclined : and dying turned her eyes 
 Homewards. Apollo saw: and Hermes came 
 
9 
 
 And sprinkled dust, and free her spirit fled 
 
 Homewards. And with a glory light the west 
 
 Was golden all, for there Apollo rested, 
 
 "While Phosphorus washed his steeds in waves of ocean 
 
 And led them panting to their glittering cribs. 
 
 And all seemed calm, but soon the night-clouds lowered, 
 
 And with the night's approach the storm arose. 
 
 Cold Boreas came, and Boreas looked on her ; 
 
 Then tossed the waves and wailed the wind and wailed. 
 
 Crossed and recrossed the corpse, all motionless, 
 
 All save the hair, that wild dishevelled hair 
 
 That waved and wantoned in the aimless breeze. 
 
 So Boreas wailed, and so he waileth still 
 While wandering round our coasts companionless. 
 With bitter self-reproaches, now too late, 
 His long-lost maid to mourn for ever doomed. 
 
 1880-82. 
 
 ^vyrj fjbovov irpog fjuovov. 
 
 All Tathee God, who madest earth and air, 
 Sky, rivers, mountains, and the wavy deep. 
 Thou to whom all men bow, who rulest all. 
 Whose kingdom stretches to all height and depth. 
 And all around, to North, South, East, and West, 
 Through Present, Past, and Future, infinite, 
 Alike unending in its space and time ; 
 Hear when I pray, and hearing, grant my prayer. 
 Life dost Thou give me as Thou giVst to all. 
 
 God, I thank Thee for this life, I thank Thee 
 That Thou dost deign to separate a part 
 
 Of Thy great self, and clothe it with this clay. 
 And make it me. O God, I feign would pray^ 
 
 1 feign would pray a prayer, and yet it seems 
 Too great a prayer for me, too much to ask. 
 Yet will I pray it. Thou art infinite, 
 
 And, being infinite, canst condescend 
 
 To infinite mercy on infinite littleness. 
 
 Grant then that I, a part of Thee, may live 
 
 As part of Thee, that I may share Thy Truth, 
 
 Thy Justice, Wisdom, and Thy Liberty, 
 
 Thy boundless Love, that I may share Thine AH, 
 
lO 
 
 Except, O God, except Thy loneliness. 
 
 Yet canst Thou lonely be? falsely I spake 
 
 That word, " to separate," for God is All 
 
 And All is God : and yet no Pantheist 
 
 Am I. Not so, for God must spirit be, 
 
 For Christ has said it. Then this truth I gain, 
 
 God is all spirit, and all spirit is God. 
 
 O truly Father, truly infinite ! 
 
 That within our poor spirits Thou shouldst live, 
 
 Hidden forsooth, yet there that Thou shouldst feel 
 
 All that we feel, shouldst realize each pang 
 
 Of passion, penitence, remorse or joy. 
 
 Is this Thy loneliness? Then grant that I 
 
 May share this also, since Thy loneliness 
 
 Consists, O God, in perfect sympathy. 
 
 1880-82. 
 
 (Tromvoell. 
 
 Go weep, go wail, and give your hearts to pining, 
 For Liberty is dead : dire death hath slain 
 Dear Liberty, by slaying our great chief. 
 Soon shall we be again in tyrant's power, 
 Defenceless we ! Now Cromwell is no more ! — 
 
 — To arms, to arms, with pistol, sword and lead ! 
 To arms, to arms, the regicide is dead ! 
 
 Zl)C 2)eatb of Hlcyanbcr. 
 
 — "0 WINE and women, man-ensnaring bribe!— 
 "With patience hear me, who with truth ascribe 
 " Of all the woes, fair world, that ere were thine, 
 " One half to women and the rest to wine ! 
 " Alexander ! flee these curses twain, 
 "Blessings that might have been, but scarce to man; 
 "And yet all curses may but blessings prove 
 " To those who more than self their fellow-creatures love." 
 Thus sang the Seer, and all in silence sat. 
 O great Achilles ! once by bard divine, 
 Inspired by loftier spirit than the nine. 
 Thy tale was sung in hexametral flow, 
 The rhymeless metre of long years ago. 
 So now Achilles, this my humble strain 
 
ir 
 
 I dare to dedicate to thee again, 
 
 I dare to bid Achilles' shade arise, 
 
 And die once more when Alexander dies. 
 
 Most youthful of the nations, noble Greece ! 
 
 Eenowned in war and celebrate in peace, 
 
 Sure Hebe were the Goddess ruled thy days. 
 
 And all my song shall be in Hebe's praise. 
 
 The youth Achilles o'er the plains of Troy 
 
 Drove deathwards many a Trojan mother's joy; 
 
 He heaped the slain, and when the war did cease 
 
 Immortal rose the fame of mortal Greece. 
 
 So Alexander in his fiercest age, 
 
 A youthful veteran, and a new-born sage. 
 
 Not man on man he piled, but tribe on tribe. 
 
 Until his sword ten-fold outdid his father's bribe. 
 
 And so, fair Hellas ! did he close the roll 
 
 Of all thy victories, the mighty whole 
 
 Of all thy glories, and declare the truth — 
 
 In youth began — thy days did end in youth. 1882. 
 
 A HUNDBED years ago or more 
 Lived a youth who troubled sore 
 All the neighbourhood around. 
 For not far nor near was found 
 One who made such havoc dire 
 Among the ladies of the shire. 
 All the girls without exception 
 Fell in love with his complexion. 
 With his eyes and with his hair, 
 With his frown and smile so fair. 
 But the most provoking part 
 Of these affections of the heart 
 Was that they were all one-sided. 
 This cruel youth the girls derided. 
 "I spurn fond love and coldly rise 
 " Unenchained by lovers' eyes ; 
 "Tho' love o'er others conqu'ror be, 
 "Love! thou shalt not conquer me." 
 This he thought and this he spake, 
 Little deeming he would make 
 Soon a helpless sacrifice 
 Offered up to lady's eyes. 
 
13 
 
 Lady Cleopatra came — 
 
 Such a maid with such a name ! 
 
 Surely even Caesar must 
 
 Kneel before her in the dust ! 
 
 Then he dropped upon his knee — 
 
 "Cleopatra, marry me!" 
 
 "Not for worlds!" the maid replied; 
 
 "Marry you, you who deride 
 
 "All our sex and all our name, 
 
 "Cast a slur upon our fame, 
 
 " Say that love shall never bind 
 
 " Your heart, your eyes, not yet your mind 
 
 " Truly I should like to see 
 
 " Such a fellow marry me ! " 
 
 Then the scornful youth in vain 
 Tried to conquer love's sharp pain : 
 Hard he struggled, but he found 
 Love's strong web his heart enwound, 
 And at last he murmured low, 
 " Cleopatra ! now I know, 
 "Tho' love by others conquered be, 
 "Truly love has conquered me." 
 
 Then judge, good reader, when was he 
 Happier, enchained or free? 
 
 iRaturc witbout (Bob. 
 
 I HEARD a voice as from a serpent's tongue : 
 Softly the words came to mine inmost ear ; 
 "There is no God." And then I walked abroad 
 Under the open sky. The trees were dark. 
 And stars and winds were there, the clouds were drifting. 
 And still the voice kept echoing in my soul, 
 " There is no God : " and then a second voice — 
 Nature's own voice — I heard : "Then what am I? 
 "If God is nought, then Nature too is nought; 
 " Her numbers all are gone, her key is lost ; 
 "Nought, nought remains save sound of broken harps, 
 "Aimless discordances of worlds and time." 
 
 March 27, 1882. 
 
13 
 
 Tend not the flowers upon my grave, 
 
 Tho' flowers are fair to see, 
 Far truer pledges of thy love 
 
 I do -demand of thee. 
 
 2. 
 
 I left the husband of my heart ; 
 Thou art his son and mine, 
 
 act towards him a son's true part 
 And leave my flowers to pine. 
 
 3- 
 
 1 left the daughter of my love ; 
 If thou her brother be, 
 
 act towards her a brother's part 
 And plant no flowers for me. 
 
 4- 
 So shall I know thy heart is true, 
 
 New love will spring from thee, 
 To sow such seeds is better far 
 
 Than planting flowers for me. 
 
 5. 
 
 So shall our Father and our God 
 Eain down with fresher showers, 
 
 He'll be the gardener of my grave. 
 And make it bright with flowers. 
 
 May 21, 1882. 
 
 "0 WHAT can conquer love?" Thus once I mused, 
 
 As, seated in a library, I cast 
 
 Mine eyes around me on the shelves of books 
 
 On many subjects. "Where is the man," thought I, 
 
 " Whose words I here may read who fought with love 
 
 "And conquered? All have fought, but all 
 
 "Have likewise fall'n." I started, as my glance 
 
 Lighted on " Ecce Homo ! " 'Twas enough. 
 
 Love still may conquered be by greater love. 
 
 March, 1883. 
 
14 
 
 What many will not, all could, be, 
 What some few are, I long to see, 
 Shew me what is a man? 
 
 Who looks not forward, nor behind, 
 And slumbers through the present. 
 
 Who shuns whate'er may rouse his mind. 
 Seeks only what is pleasant, 
 
 Who stagnates in a life of ease, 
 
 Nor pains himself a friend to please. 
 Truly is this a man? 
 
 Denies himself, himself to bless ; 
 And counts nought noble but success ; 
 Truly is this a man ? 
 
 Who pushes, strives, and struggles on 
 
 To gain a glorious name. 
 Who tramples down or friend or foe 
 
 Who dare oppose his fame, 
 Who concentrates all life and thought 
 
 That he may outstrip others ; 
 Does what he must, not what he ought. 
 
 Forgets that all are brothers ; 
 
 Who curls his lip and bends his brow 
 
 On poverty and sorrow; 
 Who sinks in self and takes no thought 
 
 Of ought beyond the morrow ; 
 Who hangs his head, nor lifts his eyes 
 
 To clouds or sky above ; 
 Who hates to wonder or to praise ; 
 
 And mocks a woman's love. 
 Is this a man? 
 
 To curse all fame, and throw the glove 
 
 Of challenge to despair — 
 Through life and death to stand the same, 
 
 Through want, through pain, through care. 
 
15 
 
 And, hurt by insult, scorn to strike 
 
 E'en though it touch his fame ; 
 Despise contempt and pity pride 
 
 Of mind, or wealth, or name ; 
 To fix his aims a thousand years 
 
 In front of where he stands, 
 To look o'er intervening space 
 
 Of time, or sea, or lands, 
 And count it nought that doth not raise 
 A soul above the world's mean praise — 
 This, truly, is a man. 
 
 The night winds moan about my head. 
 The clouds athwart the stars are flying. 
 
 The fluttering owlets hoot and scream, 
 
 My strength from out my limbs is dying ; 
 
 And yet my spirit feels no fear, 
 Tho' death itself is drawing near. 
 
 Oft have I sent a quivering shaft 
 To meet the plover's whirling flight, 
 
 And with a cry the bird has dropt 
 And died beneath its slayer's sight. 
 
 And closed its eyes in mortal pain. 
 Nor listed ere to live again.. 
 
 Oft have I chased with pauseless speed 
 And eye that marked its lessening pace 
 
 The lev'ret o'er the even mead. 
 And conquered in the deadly race, 
 
 And tamed it to my hunting-knife. 
 And reft it hopelessly of life. 
 
 No stranger I to deaths like these. 
 
 Where soul and body die together, 
 And yet no terrors vex me now. 
 
 Nor tears bedew my couch of heather: 
 There is a voice within me saith 
 
 Thy spirit ne'er shall bow to death. 
 
 November 25, 1883. 
 
i6 
 
 Prom wandering o'er the ways of men 
 
 Where numerous feet have tracked the road, 
 
 What peace, my soul, thou findest then 
 In silent lane, or field, or wood ! 
 
 There is an evil in the strife, 
 
 Which loads the air with sin and pain 
 
 Deep in the city, and is rife 
 
 Where'er we meet our fellow-men. 
 
 There is an evil in the cold 
 
 Untamed solitude of mind. 
 Which wanders o'er the lonely wold 
 
 False freedom in itself to find ! 
 
 God ! give us strife, but strife for good. 
 And give us love, true love to Thee ; 
 
 Then, joined, shall dash away the flood 
 Of evil from the world and me. 
 
 September 16, 1885. 
 
 Sic VO0 not! vobie. 
 
 At the hour of dawn on the Northern Sea 
 
 Broke the Eagle the chain of sleep, 
 
 His glancing eyelid opened he. 
 
 And longed full deeply his wings to steep 
 
 In the flood of light that the sun poured forth 
 
 Over the waves and the rocks of the North. 
 
 He tosses the snow from his widening wings. 
 And scatters the ice that round them clings, 
 With a cry and a plunge and an upward dash 
 He breasts the air in the sunshine bright. 
 And soars aloft in an ocean of light — 
 With a cry and a plunge, and a flash 
 And a sudden sound 
 Ee-echoed around 
 
 As if the earth had shivered in twain, 
 He drops far down to the sea again. 
 Cried the Captain, "that's one. Boatswain" — quoth he, 
 ' ' You've brought down — Golden Eagle — King of the Sea ! " 
 Such is the cunning of men. 
 
 December, 1886.