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 the Cornell University Library. 
 
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 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924013483106 
 
THE COUNTY PALATINE, 
 
THE COUNTY PALATINE, 
 
 anD otW poems. 
 
 SACRED AND SECULAR, 
 ORIGINAL AND TRANSLATED. 
 
 G. S. HODGES, B.A., 
 
 Vicar a/ Coppenkall and Dureston. 
 
 LONDON : 
 HOULSTON & SONS, PATERNOSTER SQUARE. 
 
 MDCCCLXXVI. 
 
 5t 
 
K. ^'YA^lu-'A 
 
 UNWtK HEOTHERS, PRINTERS BY WATER POWER. 
 
THE AUTHOR'S PREFACE. 
 
 FEW of these Poems appeared ten years ago 
 in a small volume which had only a private 
 circulation, and is now almost out of print ; 
 a few have been used in magazines and other 
 publications. But most of the contents of this volume 
 are now printed for the first time. Many of the Poems, 
 however, are from ten to twenty years old, exceeding 
 the long limit assigned by the Horatian canon, — 
 
 ' ' Nonumque premantur in annum 
 Membranis intus positis.". 
 
 Some explanation seems to be required for including 
 between the same covers pages so incongruous as the 
 Poems which compose the Second Part and the transla- 
 tion of a fantastic Greek Comedy. 
 
 The latter was intended for separate publication, but 
 
vi PREFACE. 
 
 when Professor Kennedy's admirable version came out, 
 it seemed to make any rival efTort superfluous and pre- 
 sumptuous. 
 
 Perhaps I ought to have adopted the course so ruth- 
 lessly hinted in the conclusion of the passage already 
 quoted from the " de Arte Poetica," — 
 
 " delere licebit 
 Quod non edideris." 
 
 True, I might have done this, but natural pity stayed my 
 hand, and so, as a sort of compromise, " The Birds " were 
 consigned to this safe but more obscure asylum. 
 
 Perhaps some of my friends may think that their 
 pleasant warblings relieves a book somewhat in need of 
 sunshine, and others less indulgent may mutter with 
 
 Peisthetserus, tovtX Th irpdyfia (popnov Sdrai TTcpuiv. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 ifir0t ^aarn 
 
 DEDICATION 
 
 PAGE 
 
 xi 
 
 THE COUNTY PALATINE. 
 
 
 I. The Red Rose 
 
 II. Religion 
 
 III. Work 
 
 IV. Play 
 
 V. Sunday Schools 
 
 VI. Good Templars 
 
 t 
 S 
 9 
 
 13 
 ... 17 
 
 22 
 
 fecconti ^art* 
 
 
 SACRED POEMS. 
 
 
 The Strait Gate 
 
 Ascension 
 
 SS. Simon and Jude ... 
 Home Sickness. A Ballad : 
 I. Before the Battle ... 
 II. By the Anny Chaplain 
 
 31 
 37 
 39 
 
 41 
 44 
 
Vlll 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 The Epistle and Gospel, fob the Feast o? All Saints.. 
 The Still Small Voice... 
 Christian Womanhood ... 
 The Lamb and the Dove 
 
 The Shipwreck. A Ballad 
 
 The Faithful Pastor. A Ballad 
 
 A True Incident 
 
 Nature's Cathedral 
 
 Hope 
 
 The Poor Wise Man ... 
 The Prodigal's Omission ... 
 Forgiveness. A Ballad ... 
 
 The Seven Stars 
 
 Night Thoughts 
 
 The Last Words of David 
 A Child's Questions 
 
 The Virtuous Woman ... ... 
 
 The Angel's Tale. A Ballad : 
 
 I. Self-wiU 
 
 n. " Thy will be done " 
 
 Ruth. A Sacred Idyll of Harvest-time 
 
 Water 
 
 The Holy Childhood 
 
 The Choral Funeral : 
 
 I. The House 
 
 II. The Church 
 
 III. The Grave 
 
 Consolation : A Ballad. The Steward's Tale 
 
 " See, here is Water " 
 
 "Out of Egypt have I called My Son" 
 
 QlLGAL. An Allegory 
 
 JiPIPHANY 
 
 Mater Dolorosa. A Ballad 
 
 The Snowdrop , 
 
 Mors Victa. By J. S. G 
 
CONTENTS, 
 
 IX 
 
 HYMNS AND PSALMS. 
 
 "Te LUCIS ANTE TERMINUM." Translated 
 "Te LUCIS ANTE TERMINUM." A Secoiul Version 
 
 "Jam LUCIS oeto sidere." Translated 
 
 For the Old People's Festival (at Wingates) 
 "Salvete FLORES. MARTYRUM." Translated ... 
 Psalm I. 
 
 I. For Lent and Passion-tide 
 11. For Easter-tide 
 
 Wednesday in Holy Week 
 
 For Holy Week 
 
 Psalm in. 
 
 For Easter-eve 
 
 Psalm IL 
 
 For Easter-tide 
 
 Psalm CXXVL 
 
 For Asoension-tide ... 
 
 The Transfiguration. August 6th 
 
 "Veni, Creator Spiritus." Literally Translated 
 For the Twenty-fifth Sunday after Trinity 
 The Holy Eucharist. — "Ye do shew the Lord's death 
 The Holy Eucharist. — " Comfortable Words " 
 The Holy EucHARiST.-^Psalm iv. ... ... 
 
 The Consecration of the Holy. Eucharist 
 "Jesu DULCIS MEMORIA." Translated ... 
 
 The Holy Eucharist. — Psalm xxiii 
 
 The Holy Eucharist at Passion-tide 
 
 For a School Sermon ... , 
 
 Thanksgiving Hymn ... ... 
 
 For Children. — "Hosanna, wesing." 
 
 Confirmation , ... ... ,.. 
 
 Holy Matrimony. — Psalm cxxriii 
 
 THE Last Hymn in a Church to be Rebuilt 
 For the Opening of a School-house 
 Eucharistic Litany 
 
 
 .. 163 
 
 
 164 
 
 
 .. 16s 
 
 
 166 
 
 
 .. 168 
 
 
 170 
 
 
 • 171 
 
 
 172 
 
 
 ■• 173 
 
 
 I7S 
 
 
 .. 176 
 
 ... 
 
 1,77 
 
 
 .. 178 
 
 
 ?8q 
 
 
 .. 182 
 
 j death " 
 
 184 
 
 ,.. 
 
 ?8S 
 
 
 .. i86 
 
 
 187 
 
 
 ■., 189 
 
 
 191 
 
 
 .. 192 
 
 
 
 194 
 
 
 .. 196 
 
 
 
 19B 
 
 ••^ 
 
 •■ 199 
 
 
 200 
 
 
 .. 202 
 
 
 203 
 
 
 . 205 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CERTAIN ENGLISH HYMNS IN LATIN RHYME. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Una Teina Deitas 208 
 
 Cor meum, fertur cantus Angelorum 209 
 
 In Amplexu Iesus .. 211 
 
 sieculorum pro me fissa 213 
 
 TOTA Creatura GEMIT 214 
 
 Ter beat^ dulces hor^ 215 
 
 O DOMUS, HiERUSALEM ! 217 
 
 Ovid's Christmas Carol. Translated 
 
 SECULAR POEMS. 
 
 Senex inter floees. a Monologue 
 Ode to a Lancashire Skylark 
 
 Colour 
 
 Maximilian 
 
 The Rhone and the Arve 
 
 Ode to M^cenas. Horace, Od. iii. i6 
 
 October loquitur 
 
 The Talking Walnut-Tree. Translated. 
 Philemon and Baucis. Translated 
 Camilla. A Virgilian Episode. Translated. 
 Epigram 
 
 225 
 228 
 230 
 231 
 233 
 23s 
 237 
 239 
 253 
 2S7 
 266 
 
 THE BIRDS OF ARISTOPHANES, 
 English Readers 
 
 jFoutt!) ?@arn 
 
 in English Rhyme for 
 
 267 
 
DEDICATION. 
 
 HAT records of the solemn Past, 
 
 Invisible to stranger's eye, 
 
 Embalmed between these covers lie : 
 Some twenty years from first to last : 
 
 Records of places long unseen. 
 
 Of friends beloved, or lost or dead. 
 Of vows too often seconded 
 
 By eiforts weak or issues mean. 
 
 For here sea breezes bleached a page, 
 And there adheres the factory grime ; 
 This verse was writ in youthful prime. 
 
 And that in sober middle-age. 
 
DEDICATION. 
 
 The bard who cannot hold his part 
 In loftiest themes, as he may list, 
 Is fain to be a plagiarist, 
 
 And copy from his own full heart. 
 
 Some souls of high poetic tone 
 Can guide Imagination's car 
 Thro' glowing realms of thought, afar 
 
 From joys and sorrows of their own. 
 
 Our Milton, king of men, reclined 
 In peace among primeval bowers. 
 And lived creation's sunniest hours, 
 
 Nor knew that he was sad and blind. 
 
 But when some feebler soul would rise 
 
 Beyond the cloud that bounds its view, 
 To travel regions strange and new. 
 
 And self is fading from its eyes : 
 
 Some glimpse of beauty, some bright word, 
 In contrast with its own poor crown 
 Of life so sullied, drags it down 
 
 To self again, like fettered bird ; 
 
 Who, urged to sing by instinct strong, 
 Chirps only feeble plaints of pain. 
 Lamenting for the heavy chain 
 
 That cripples every flight of song. 
 
DEDICATION. 
 
 So, since too much in monotone 
 
 I fear this harp of mine doth ring, 
 Save when I touch a lighter string, 
 
 Or echo fancies not my own, 
 
 I wili not beg the great or wise 
 
 Of this unsympathising age 
 
 To grace a' dedication page. 
 Or turn a leaf with careless eyes. 
 
 But you who love me — I have five, 
 
 Five darlings^ — wife and children four — 
 Who when this hand can write no more 
 
 (God grant it !) may be yet alive, 
 
 To you I dedicate my best. 
 
 As I have always loved you well. 
 And wish no better than to dwell 
 
 In your dear hearts, when I shall rest 
 
 So goes my book to stand or fall. 
 
 My solace many nights and days ; 
 But whether critics scorn or praise, 
 
 No matter : it is past recall, 
 
 WiNGATEs Vicarage, 1875. 
 
PART I. 
 
 Ci)e Countp palatine. 
 
THE COUNTY PALATINE. 
 
 THE RED ROSE. 
 
 yXvidi Kal ttoiovvti irnpav 
 iv a«av6ivai£ drapvoic 
 
 OME nooks within the County Palatine 
 Still redden with her cognizance, the Rose ; 
 But here the south-west wind, abandoning 
 His native gentleness, assumes the mask 
 And blustering tones of wild Euroclydon ; 
 And rioting among the garden-beds 
 Makes playthings of our roses ere their prime. 
 Or if maternal Summer, undisturbed 
 By murd'rous blasts^ be left awhile in peace 
 To rear her nurselings, brooding o'er their sleep 
 With smiles, and tears, and soft jiEolian airs. 
 That woo them to unclose their baby eyes. 
 And laugh into her face : shortlived, alas. 
 The climax of her bliss ; such frequent clouds 
 Of black voluminous incense puffed and curled 
 From Trade's capacious temples chimney-spired, 
 
THE COUNTY PALATINE. 
 
 Are blown at random by the changeful wind, 
 Which earthward borne, begrime fair Nature's face, 
 And hide her flowery train in funeral gear ; 
 As if she mourned the summer days of old, 
 That showed the native blushes of her rose 
 On garden bloom, and blooming maiden face 
 Unsullied by the sooty hand of Trade. 
 
 For paler now, yet comely still, the cheeks 
 That gleam among the whirling factory wheels 
 From early morn till evening shadows fall. 
 They mark with watchful eye the fleecy lengths 
 Drawn out and wound upon the dizzy reels : 
 And ever and anon as some mishap 
 May snap the subtile thread, you see them flit 
 Barefooted and alert, this side or that, 
 With ready hand to seize and re-unite, ' 
 By dext'rous twist, the severed filament. 
 A not unhappy throng, with liberal wage 
 To cheer a life of intermittent toil ; 
 But how unlike in stature and in bloom 
 Their sisters of the farm, inured to tread 
 The upturned clods and quaff the morning air ; 
 Daughters of Anak, towering above ^ 
 The puny mincing maidens of the towns ; 
 As hardy as the teams they drive a-field ; 
 As wholesome as the odour of their hay ; 
 Possessing strength exceeding maidenhood ; 
 Yet feminine withal, with graceful forms, 
 Such as the sculptor covets, who would carve. 
 Greater than human. Here's sumptuous charms • 
 And liberally dowered with nobler grace 
 Of nature kindly, loving, womanly. 
 
THE RED ROSE. 3 
 
 Ah, human hearts of teeming Lancashire, 
 Your roses still are blooming everywhere, 
 Red, rich, and fragrant ; in the factory, 
 Upon the farm, and fathoms deep beneath. 
 He who loves only things inanimate, 
 And pines for odorous airs, and velvet lawn 
 Medallioned with choice flowers, and stately trees. 
 The confed chestnut', and the balmy lime ; 
 Whose ear fastidious must be satisfied 
 By Philomela's liquid cadences 
 And elegiac gurglings ; or the coo 
 Of brooding doves among the distant woods, 
 Stiller than silence ; who " is not ashamed 
 To take a solid portion from the day,'' 
 And listen for the shrill cicada's whirr 
 Now here, now there, supine in summer grass ; 
 Would roam at eventide through dewy glades 
 High over-arched with leaves and pendent bloom. 
 And watch the stars that glitter through the roof 
 Repeated in the soft phosphoric gleam 
 That marks the glow-worm's tiny hermitage ; 
 He finds no roses here, let him depart ! 
 For here the plaining nightingale is mute ; 
 No merry grasshopper plays hide-and-seek 
 Among the buttercups ; at eventide 
 No glow-worm lights' her sanctuary lamp. 
 Let him depart, and spread his silken tent 
 Where Summer lingers, and with partial hand 
 Inverts her brimming Cornucopia. 
 
 But one whose heart is throbbing stroke for stroke 
 Responsive to his fellows, who is bound 
 By sympathetic bond of brotherhood 
 
THE COUNTY F4LATINE. 
 
 To all that's human ; who has skill to gaze 
 
 Upon the homeward collier's sooty brow, 
 
 And through the smut trace out the honest man ; 
 
 And holds his sideway nod more eloquent 
 
 Of true regard than southern courtesies 
 
 Of bended knees, or ready hand upraised 
 
 Mechanical to touch the obsequious brim ; 
 
 Who hears a music in the harsher tones 
 
 And Doric dialect of Northern men ; 
 
 O why 'should he go hence to search elsewhere 
 
 For nature's Roses ? Everywhere abounds 
 
 For him the blood-red, wild, Lancastrian Rose, 
 
 Well worth the gathering, though beset with thorns. 
 
II. 
 
 RELIGION. 
 
 " FANATICTJS ERROR." 
 
 IGH soil, deprived of tilth and wholesome 
 Seed, 
 Strong in spontaneous receptivity, 
 From passing breeze, and migratory bird 
 Will gather to it's bosom waifs and strays, . 
 Each inly freighted with the latent power 
 Of re-production — ay, a thousand-fold. 
 For good things in this evil world of ours 
 Are slow of increase : vile things thrive apace ; 
 A fungus ripens in a single night, 
 The perfect oak scarce in a hundred years. 
 But, looking at that wild luxuriance 
 And tangled undergrowth, the farmer smiles 
 A sage far-seeing smile, like one who knows 
 That constant toil and cunning husbandry 
 May reap rich guerdon here, and many a field 
 That wastes its innate energy on weeds. 
 Patient of culture, may be taught to gild 
 A waving harvest in the Autumn breeze. 
 
THE COUNTY PALATINE. 
 
 So let it be ! For every sect has pitched 
 Its tabernacle in the midst of us, • 
 And yearns with zealot eagerness to stretch 
 It's canvas wider. Hence the frequent cry, 
 "Lo here ! lo there ! " from' myriad brazen throats 
 Outrings the chime of quiet Sabbath bells. 
 And lures the simple artisan astray. 
 He, severing his cable from the ark. 
 And drifting o'er opinion's heaving sea. 
 Can find no stable footing whence to mete 
 The line that severs Truth from phantasy — ' 
 Eternal Heaven from the shifting deep. 
 For his untutored ear, content to take 
 A downright statement for a downright truth. 
 Nor sharpened to discern the genuine ring 
 Of sterling metal, holds Pretension's dross 
 For coinage stamped in Truth's imperial die : 
 So, going from Dan to Bethel, easy man, 
 He thinks all true alike and very good ; 
 Till being cajoled by mistress or by friend 
 He shifts his side, and thinks with equal cause 
 That all are false alike and very vile ; 
 Then lends his ear to whispered poisoijings, 
 '' A leperous distilment," more abhorred 
 Than that which made the elder Hamlet ghost. 
 And ruminating like the sage of old, 
 " Nought comes of nought, and nought to nought 
 
 returns.'' 
 Prodigious lucubrations of the brain, 
 He styles himself " free-thinker " when most bound 
 By soul-enslaving error, and blasphemes 
 The Truth he never J^new. Unhappy man ! 
 Ah, wherefore leariit he not from sponsor lips, 
 
RELIGION. 
 
 Or better still at Christian mother's knee, 
 
 The meaning of the Credo he professed, 
 
 Belief in One Church, Holy, Catholic ? 
 
 She stands a leaguered city in the land ; 
 
 And round about her foes extend their lures 
 
 To take her children : not in Gospel net. 
 
 For that restrained the fishes it enclosed, 
 
 And haled them strugghng to the mystic shore. 
 
 But these, so loose and flexible their folds. 
 
 Present slight check to §inful wanderings ; 
 
 And souls entangled there own no constraint. 
 
 Such sins as in the days of discipline 
 
 Would separate the doer from the flock. 
 
 Are lightly treated, if reproved at all. 
 
 As venial slips that merit little blanie 
 
 Beyond a feeble shaking of the head. 
 
 Relieved from overmuch austerity 
 
 By the incipient glimmer of a smile : 
 
 And he who grants indulgences to-day. 
 
 Will claim them for his favourite vice ere long ! 
 
 'Tis thus a people's moral sense declines 
 
 Upon a lower level ; thus the vile, 
 
 Unawed by public reprobation, run 
 
 To great excess of riot ; thus the weak 
 
 Are hurried to their fall ; and men deride 
 
 Good faith and women scoff at purity. 
 
 " To sin is human : " to repent of sin 
 
 Is Christian : but to name one's eyil good, 
 
 And justify the villainy, and walk . 
 
 With head erect and flaunt it in the face 
 
 Of Virtue, unabashed — can only bear 
 
 The name of the Progenitor of Lies. 
 
 By whom comes such offence except by him 
 
THE COUNTY PALATINE. 
 
 Who dares to sever, though for pious ends, 
 The faith of Christian from whatever things 
 Are pure and honest and of good report ; 
 And trembles to pronounce " a spade a spade " 
 Lest fewer voices shout his Shibboleth ? 
 'Twere better far that ancient idols claimed 
 Their ghastly fee, than Christian men should link 
 The name they bear with lewdness or with wrong 
 Mezentian * horror ! living chained to dead. 
 
 O Bride of Christ, arise ! for Thou alone 
 Hast Power from on high ; forsake the bed 
 Of sloth ; bind on thy sandals ; let thy feet 
 Be beautiful, tmn messengers of peace ; 
 Unbar thy chamber doors ; oh, fling them wide, 
 And welcome all thy children, rich and poor, 
 With equal love, as all are loved by Him. 
 Nay, seek them, seek the lost in street and lane. 
 And thou shalt surely win them back again 
 To veneration for the Things of God, 
 And self-respect, and reverence for man. 
 Proclaim the Faith, delivered once for all, 
 Thy grand Deposit ; and confirm the word 
 With mighty signs and wonders in the land, 
 The virtue of thy Sacramental Dower, 
 Making rough smooth, and crooked places straight 
 And through the very mountain heart of pride 
 A highway for thy Meek and. Lowly King. 
 
 * See Virgil, ^n. viii. 485, &c. 
 
III. 
 WORK. 
 
 "fervet opus." 
 
 LL honour to the knightly hearts that dared 
 Molest the monster Greed within his den, 
 To rescue human souls and bodies kept 
 In dungeon deep, like Samson in the mill, 
 And doomed to grind, in darkness and despair. 
 Dear life away. Armed with the magic lance 
 Of Edict Parliamentary, and strong , 
 In justice and in mercy forth they rode, 
 And summoned from the black Cimmerian pit 
 A captive horde of women and of girls. 
 To see the light and breathe the air of God : 
 Else had they toiled till now beneath the earth, 
 And, plunged in moral gloom " that might be felt," 
 Lost" all the delicate blossom of their sex, 
 And learnt- no higher lesson than to add 
 To woman's craft the grossness of the man. 
 
 Of such past swinish trampling on the pearl 
 Of womanhood a relic still remains, — 
 Vivandifere-like bands who ply their task 
 In light of day, beside the pendent cage 
 And iron-braided rope on whose frail length 
 
no THE COUNTY PALATINE. 
 
 A husband's or a brother's safety hangs : 
 For these are clad in masculine attire, 
 And imitate man's slouching stride, and purse 
 Their lips in sibillations loud and clear ; 
 Redeemed from utter manliness by skirt, 
 Like hussar's jacket, more for sign than use, 
 , And trill of girlish laughter, dulcet sound. 
 That manly lungs are powerless to produce. 
 Ambiguous beings, riddles for the gaze 
 Of passing stranger, harder to be solved 
 Than Gnidian Gyges * with his curls unbound. 
 
 But not from subterranean pit alone 
 They set the helpless free, their challenge bold 
 Reverberated through the Factory. 
 It glittered nightly with a hundred lamps. 
 Like fairy palace in Arabian tale ; 
 Stately without, but hideous within ; 
 For this was Mammon's Temple, where he slew 
 By slow degrees in one fell sacrifice 
 The mother and the child: where women drooped 
 In fetid atmosphere and twelve hours' toil ; 
 Prolonged, when craving richer offerings 
 The cruel idol nodded on his throne. 
 Till eyes grew dim, and brain and sinew failed ; 
 Where little ones, ill-favoured and diseased. 
 Of six and seven, but old beyond their years. 
 Toiled while they could, then closed their weary lids. 
 And found within a pitying Saviour's arms 
 The rest denied them here. Accursed love 
 Of gold, that drew from fragrant country air 
 An eager multitude, content to cast 
 
 * See Horace, Carm. ii. 5, v. 20 to the end. 
 
WORK. 
 
 Their souls and bodies, nor themselves alone, 
 
 But, O unnatural horror ! their sweet babes 
 
 Before the wheels of British Juggernaut ! 
 
 Sights such as these, they say, may still be seen 
 
 At Gallic Lille, not now on English soil ; 
 
 For champions of the people interposed 
 
 To save them from the tyrant and themselves. 
 
 Who striking down that despicable guard, 
 
 " Let be, and wrong will right itself some day," 
 
 O'erthrew the idol, purified the shrine. 
 
 And checked by kind restraint of wholesome law 
 
 These cruelties that blurred the fame of Trade. 
 
 And now the child of tender age goes forth 
 
 At early morn with satchel on his arm. 
 
 And face aglow with happiness and health ; 
 
 Then, school-hours over, mingles with a crowd 
 
 Of equals, all intent on boisterous play, 
 
 And shouts, an infant Stentor, in the streets. 
 
 But not till age has knit the sturdy frame. 
 
 And education kindled light within 
 
 To look around with shrewd intelligence. 
 
 And gather stores of knowledge through the eye. 
 
 May children add their earnings to the wage 
 
 That keeps the wolf from the paternal door ; 
 
 Nor then by toil severe, or negligence 
 
 Of culture, issuing in dreary dearth 
 
 Of qualities that dignify mankind ; 
 
 But o'er their lives from ten to thirteen years 
 
 The school and factory claim alternate sway. 
 
 Benevolent design ! Ah, can it be 
 
 That parents, all unworthy of the name, 
 
 Are vile enough, pressed by no urgent need. 
 
 To lie before High Heaven, and to rob 
 
12 THE COUNTY PALATINE. 
 
 Their helpless offspring of a natural right, 
 
 Confirmed by human law, and law divine ; 
 
 But rendered null and void by futile test 
 
 Of counted teeth, like horse's at a fair. 
 
 Hence tiny hands too oft anticipate 
 
 The days of toil, and earn a paltry wage 
 
 To slake a father's ever-growing lust 
 
 For vile potations, or a mother's thirst 
 
 To add a weekly tribute to the store 
 
 Unjustly hoarded, and unblest by God. 
 
 Shall all that patriots battled for and won 
 
 Be thus despised and trampled under foot. 
 
 By those for whom they fought, while they conspire 
 
 To cheat the child, who climbs upon their knee. 
 
 Of knowledge, freedom, health, and piety ? 
 
 Turn we to brighter scene. At close of day, 
 When the slow hand has journeyed half its round,* 
 Or on the sixth, primaeval Sabbath rest. 
 When twice since noon the clock has chimed the hour, 
 The giant piston ceases from its thud. 
 The thousand wheels are still, as olden bards 
 Fabled Ixion's wheel in Tartarus,t 
 When Orpheus touched his wonder-working lyre. 
 But these are stayed by no diviner sound 
 Than screeching whistle. Then through open doors 
 The crowd pours forth, and clanking clogs provoke 
 The stony pavement with their wooden soles. 
 In twos and threes they pass, each lass with head 
 Mantilla-veiled, and thus with quip and laugh 
 Beguile their homeward way to food and rest. 
 
 * Since this was written, the hours of labour have again been shortened. 
 + See Virgil, Georg. iv. 484. 
 
IV. 
 
 " PLAY." 
 
 OME part of that quick spirit which, the Bard 
 Of Avon tells us, dwelt in Antony, 
 Has emigrated northward, and possessed 
 "The lads" who work our cotton, silk, and 
 coal. 
 Some quickly seek the summer cricket-ground. 
 And plant the triple wickets face to face, 
 Pacing with measured strides the interval. 
 And soon, at signal given, the bowler runs. 
 And, tracing through the air a rapid arc, 
 .Whirls shoulder-high the well-sewn crimson ball. 
 Like stone propelled by Roman catapult : 
 It strikes the sod, and thence by sudden shoot. 
 Or leap bail-high, assails the guarded wood ; 
 But not unmarked by patient adversary, 
 Who foils by bat obliquely interposed 
 The dangerous missile ; till at length with glee 
 
14 THE COUNTY PALATINE. 
 
 His practised eye discerns an erring ball, 
 Short-pitched, or bowled in wild hyperbole : 
 With might and main he strikes the sounding orb : 
 It skims the leaguered plain : with one consent 
 The batsmen flash across from goal to goal : 
 But if by chance he drives the ball mid-air, 
 Describing there a parabolic curve. 
 Some subtle foeman glides with palms upraised 
 And intercepts it in its swift descent ; 
 Uproarious shouting hails the bold success. 
 With shouldered arms the vanquished seeks his tent 
 And sad at heart unclasps the padded greaves. 
 
 Others meanwhile, averse to manly game. 
 Produce from inner pouch, with crumpled plumes, 
 A pigeon kidnapped from some distant cote 
 To gratify a passion strong alike 
 In Peer and Peasant, urging one to stake 
 A thousand guineas on his Pegasus, 
 The other, shillings five on racing bird. 
 But how can I upbraid the Pitman rude 
 For risking thus the coins for which he toiled 
 At perH of his life, and ought to store 
 For evil days, or slow decline of age ; 
 Unless the lash of indignation first 
 Assail the noble gamesters on " the Turf," 
 Who lead blind Fortune's band, a hope forlorn ? 
 
 I hold the pigeon equal to the horse 
 In speed and beauty, and her natural flight 
 Beyond the reach of jockey, whip, and spur. 
 Surpassing his, as much as aery realm, 
 Uncramped by barrier, shows a nobler course 
 
''PLAY.' IS 
 
 Than Epsom Down or royal Ascot Heath. 
 
 But while we speak, the pigeon, whirled aloft 
 
 And scared by sudden freedom, tries her wings, 
 
 Circling around in wild and aimless haste ; 
 
 Then poised awhile, and motionless as bird 
 
 On painted canvas, views the far-off scene : 
 
 Till guided by some instinct of a heart 
 
 Athirst for callow brood, or treasured hope 
 
 Of eggs unhatched, or comfortable mate. 
 
 She beats the yielding air with rapid wing, 
 
 And steers direct for home, now dimly seen 
 
 A lighter speck beneath the distant cloud. 
 
 Now seen no more : but still the gaping crowd, 
 
 With skyward faces shaded from the glare 
 
 By arching arm, survey the empty blue. 
 
 Thus, said the fable, stood the royal twins 
 
 Apart on Palatine and Aventine, 
 
 Encircled each by angry partisans. 
 
 And searched with flashing eyes the morning sky, 
 
 Till augury of birds should set at rest 
 
 Their rivalry, and give a king to Rome. 
 
 Part shun the noisy crew : their soul disdains 
 
 To make unconscious bird, to other men 
 
 A sign of peace, occasion of dispute ; 
 
 Nor dare they wrong themselves and those they love 
 
 By ruinous gaming, or profanely mix 
 
 Unholy gain with increase fairly got 
 
 By honest hands. Seeking a grateful change 
 
 Of occupation, in a sheltered nook 
 
 Of garden ground they delve the trenched bed 
 
 To blanch the celery stalk, or under glass 
 
 Uprear the choice exotic, gladiolus, 
 
 Dark-leaved camellia, or the pallid rose 
 
i6 7 HE COUNTY PALATINE. 
 
 That droops with its own sweetness, and compels 
 The momentary wish that every sense 
 Were gathered into smelling, and inhaled 
 To sweet inebriation such perfume. 
 
 And part emancipate the inner man 
 From six days' rust, and jarring accident 
 By music's universal sympathies : 
 So fingers, darkened by the ingrained dust 
 Of carbon, lightly move the agile bow ; 
 Or waken silvery chimings from the keys 
 Of sweet piano, or the deeper tones 
 Of mimic organ rich in harmonies. 
 
 Thus in the twilight plays the dreaming boy 
 And marvels at the dream his music shows : 
 His mother sits apart and holds her babe, 
 And knows not that her tears are falling fast ; 
 For that familiar strain has borne away 
 Her simple spirit to " Jerusalem 
 The Golden," all her own are gathered in ; 
 Witfi folded wings she sees her baby come. 
 The tiniest of the angels, baby still. 
 With baby kisses, and her collier lad 
 Is dressed in white, and strikes a harp of gold. 
 
V. 
 
 SUNDAY SCHOOLS. 
 
 HE early bell rings in the Sunday mom ; 
 And finds its echo in all Christian hearts 
 That hail the sound, as of a Mother's voice 
 Bidding her children seek within her home 
 The comfort of a Heavenly Father's love. 
 But as the spirit of Music hath no tale 
 To whisper in the unenamoured breast 
 Of him whose ear is closed to harmony ; 
 So dullard souls skill not to read aright 
 Their mother's message, and the bell at prime 
 To them is sounding metal — nothing more ; 
 Or at the most an index of the hour, 
 A sign that bids them turn upon their beds, 
 And close their eyes, and fold their hands to sleep. 
 To save the young from fatal lethargy, 
 And train the ear within to apprehend 
 The sweetness of the Gospel symphonies. 
 We tend with constant care the Sunday School. 
 3 
 
1 8 THE COUNTY PALATINE. 
 
 But whence came this fair tree with weekly fruit, 
 And balmy leaves to heal a nation's wounds ? 
 It sprang indigenous in that sweet vale 
 Where fair Sabrina rolls her lucent wave ; 
 But all unlike the plants of weaker growth 
 That flourish only in their native soil, 
 It spans its broadest girth afar from home, 
 And reaches o'er the vast Lancastrian plain, 
 Briareus-like, a hundred helping arms. 
 Some poisonous things may lurk beneath its shade ; 
 Not therefore must we fell the noble stem, 
 And rend the foliage, where a myriad host 
 Of birds and bees find harbourage and food : 
 But strong in patient wisdom disentwine 
 The parasite, and prune, where need may be, 
 Its arrogant luxuriance of shade. 
 So shall its roots strike deeper, till they reach 
 The Living Rock ; and each aspiring bough 
 Adorn, and not conceal, the steeple-cross 
 Gleaming mid-air, but point the self-same way. 
 
 This verdant tree, alive with humming bees 
 And singing birds throughout the sacred day, 
 We show with pride to Southron sojourner. 
 " But who are these ? " " Our children." For he 
 
 sees 
 Among the elder scholars bushy chins. 
 And maiden forms matured to womanhood. 
 Nor only such, but duly ranged around 
 In listening circles, many a lad and lass, 
 Descending by a graduated scale 
 To tender infants, with their pattering feet. 
 And lisping speech attempting text and hymn. 
 
SUNDA V SCHOOLS. 19 
 
 No spurious dignity of early teens 
 
 That scorns forsooth the childishness of school, 
 
 Is here at work to draw our youth away. 
 
 Their hearts, unchecked by force centrifugal 
 
 Of evil fashion, keep the impulse true 
 
 That leads their footsteps to the old school-door. 
 
 The lad increased in stature may o'ertop 
 
 His teacher by the head ; or, quick to learn. 
 
 May far outgrow his narrow round of thought, 
 
 And know his well-worn maxims all by rote. 
 
 Yet fill a scholar's place, and yield to all 
 
 The admonitions of authority : 
 
 Till he himself assumes the curule chair. 
 
 And hands to younger generations down 
 
 The " milk for babes " that he imbibed long since 
 
 Upon that very bench, a little child. 
 
 As doves frequent the self-same rocky cleft, 
 
 Till threatening snare invade their snug retreat ; 
 
 Our duteous maidens thus will flock to school. 
 
 Till solemn banns, to be proclaimed one day. 
 
 Foreshadowing the matrimonial net, 
 
 And dread of " cause or just impediment " 
 
 Shall scare them fluttering from their ancient haunts 
 
 To thickest shade, impervious to the light. 
 
 O Sunday Teachers, true philanthropists. 
 Right noble is the station where you watch. 
 And build the wall of Sion, as of old 
 They built who in the left hand held the spear 
 And with the right hand laboured at the work, 
 " From rising day till evening stars appeared." 
 In later days so laboured Aquila, 
 Priscilla, blameless pair ; and sisters four, 
 3* 
 
3 THE COUNTY PALATINE. 
 
 True yoke-fellows, the virgin progeny 
 
 Of Philip the Evangelist, who dwelt 
 
 At Csesarea ; and his hand who wrote 
 
 To little children and to strong young men, 
 
 For he had heard the Risen Master bid 
 
 His comrade, " Feed my sheep " and " Feed my 
 
 lambs.'' 
 Lay-preachers are ye ; leaders of the blind ; 
 Instructors of the foolish ; ministers, 
 Each to his own, of the good Word of God. 
 'Tis yours to leave the signet of the cross 
 Imprinted on the warm soft hearts that bring 
 To you with guileless, wistful confidence 
 Their mute appeal for aid. 'Tis yours to guide 
 The feet that long to tread the narrow way 
 But fear to wander in the good old paths 
 Worn by the steps of martyr and of saint. 
 From Font, through Holy Confirmation Rite, 
 To Sacramental oneness with the Lord. 
 Nor deem your charge fulfilled, when by your side 
 The trembling spirit sighs, in ecstasy, 
 " My Lord, my God," and feeds with faith on Him 
 But guide, rebuke, instruct, encourage still, 
 Smile with the glad, and weep with them that weep. 
 Ah, some will fall away in spite of care. 
 Perchance the best beloved, the trusted one, 
 The child of fairest promise. Such a loss 
 Is grievous as the travailing mother's pain. 
 Who looks upon the babe, for which she yearned, 
 A dead cold thing. Yet in your sorrow, hope. 
 The Truth you teach, a spark of Life Divine, 
 Is quick with latent power to relume 
 The darkened spirit after many days. 
 
SUNDA Y SCHOOLS. 2 1 
 
 Have faith in God ! Though here you never see 
 The change for which you long, and weep, and pray, 
 What rapture will be yours to meet again 
 The sometime wanderer on the King's Right Hand,' 
 And hear the well-known voice, " Safe, safe, dear friend ; 
 You taught me : I repented : He forgave." 
 
VI. 
 
 GOOD TEMPLARS. 
 
 " A land of slaves shall ne'er be mine, 
 Dash down yon cup of Samian wine." 
 
 TAND here a minute, friend, and see them 
 pass 
 In long procession, half amused, half shamed. 
 At broidered collar and mysterious badge, 
 " The sign of their profession," men and boys, 
 A straggling column, not reduced by drill 
 To measured step and nicely-balanced form ; 
 Yet trudging briskly to the even time 
 Of martial music, which a youthful band. 
 With cheeks distended, vigorously puffs 
 From brass sonorous, and reverberates 
 With ceaseless beats upon the hollow drum. 
 Good Templars all ! But, ah ! how changed from those 
 Who bore that name when Lion-Heart was king j 
 Such as Sir Walter painted on the page 
 Of " Ivanhoe," shouting their battle-cry. 
 Beau Seant ! and couching lance invincible 
 Within pavilioned lists ; or, saturnine, 
 
GOOD TEMPLARS. 23 
 
 Pacing with haughty step and folded arms 
 The sounding courts of feudal Templestowe : 
 The fairest Flower of Chivalry ; if so 
 Red Cross and snowy mantle were true signs 
 Of knightly honour, faith, and chastity. 
 
 How changed from those ! And yet a high resolve 
 Gleams under this ungraceful mimicry 
 Of pageant mediaeval, which redeems 
 Its bravery from utter childishness. 
 Not theirs to save the Holy Sepulchre 
 From Christian wrangling, as the olden knights 
 From Paynim hordes. Few of these Templars good 
 Would draw a sword or raise a hand to keep 
 The Wood of the True Cross, could It be found, 
 Dark with the blood of Christ, from common use. 
 So many blows at Superstition aimed 
 Have missed their mark and fall'n on Reverence, 
 That Reverence is dying day by day. 
 Hence grand Cathedrals turned to concert halls, 
 And " O Baal, hear us !" impious refrain, 
 Chorussed before the Altars of our God. 
 Hence Churches levelled, and God's acre ploughed 
 By screaming engine, heedless of the hearts 
 That burn indignant for the outraged dead. 
 
 Utilitarian Templars these, who march, 
 Drum, fife, read resolutions and amend, 
 Petition, lavish native eloquence, 
 To burst the chain a fiend has rivetted 
 Around the Anglo-Norman, else were he 
 The unrivalled master of this modern world. 
 This is the rescue that they meditate 
 
24 THE COUNTY PALATINE. 
 
 To save themselves and save their countrymen 
 
 From poisonous pollution ; aye, to wrest 
 
 The fiery cup from the sot's trembling clutch, 
 
 And make him free against his craven will. 
 
 Shall we not laud their zeal ? Aye, more, not less, 
 
 Because their thoughts are clothed in barbarous phrase. 
 
 Because the applauding hands are rough with work. 
 
 And fitter for the pick than for the pen. 
 
 March on, good men, your cause at least is just ; 
 
 'Twere ill for us to blame such earnestness 
 
 In furthering Good, altho' we deem the means 
 
 Ill-suited to the end. For we contrast 
 
 Your peaceful demonstration, pure intent. 
 
 With that fierce multitude across the Strait, 
 
 Whose drumming means no tilt at moral wrong ; 
 
 But atheism, outrage, sacrilege. 
 
 Petroleum, and the murderous fusillade. 
 
 The king ye would decapitate is Vice ; 
 
 And vice so hideous, 'tis no marvel if 
 
 The hate wherewith ye hate it overleap 
 
 At times the boundaries of common sense. 
 
 No marvel : for ye see what ravages 
 
 The demon Drunkenness makes in the homes 
 
 And brains and hearts of working Englishmen. 
 
 Alas for populous Lancashire, 'tis here 
 
 The monster holds his den. On every side 
 
 He scatters fatal trophies, ghastlier far 
 
 Than human fragments in the ogre books 
 
 That terrified our childhood ; here a hand 
 
 Cut off which earned the starving children's bread ; 
 
 Arid there the long fair hair of womanhood 
 
 Begrimed with mire ; lost honour, body, soul. 
 
GOOD TEMPLARS. 25 
 
 Would you behold it with your eyes ? Come, then, 
 Visit the workman's quarter ; come to-night. 
 'Tis rife with typhoid-sporules, but fear not. 
 They find slow settlement in well-fed frames, 
 And what we seek is easy to be found. 
 Hark ! what a piercing shriek ; now enter ; see ; 
 Stop, madman ! spare the woman ! Ah, she's down. 
 Just Heaven ! that iron clog has cut its way 
 Into the very brain ! Pah ! come away : 
 See, the police have bound the maniac. 
 The patient surgeon binds the woman's wounds ; 
 Here's nothing new or strange ; she shares this lot 
 With many thousand sisters. All could show 
 Their "poor dumb wounds," appalling evidence. 
 Against the evil these Good Templars hate. 
 You say the truth ; 'twere hard to find a brute 
 So savage towards his mate in Afric wilds. 
 But Circe's cup has changed kind men to beasts ; 
 Turning the human current of the blood 
 To bestial, and then maddening the brute. 
 
 To leave a nobler picture on your mind 
 Of English manliness, as we return 
 To regions civilised, hear me relate 
 A doughty deed, accomplished on the heights 
 Of Inkermann,* some twenty years ago. 
 
 That morn a common soldier, Bancroft, stood 
 Within the Sand-bag Battery : in front 
 The Russians swarmed : our Red-coats were but few. 
 It came to pass that this said grenadier. 
 Following the impulse of his valiant heart, 
 
 * See Mr. Kinglake's description of the battle. 
 
26 THE COUNTY PALATINE. 
 
 Had joined a desperate sortie, and now fought, 
 Cut off from aid, alone amid fierce foes. 
 Then might you see the force of British pluck. 
 His bayonet slew the first ; but in the act 
 Of slaying, off his guard, a Russian blade. 
 Transfixing either jaw, pinned cheek to cheek. 
 He staggered for an instant, but the next 
 Had shot the Russian dead who wounded him. 
 A third foe fell : but still he found a fourth 
 And fifth assailant, one on either side. 
 A second bayonet pierced him, and he fell : 
 But, like Antaeus, fresh from mother-earth 
 To rise once more and lay a foeman low. 
 One now remained to wage an equal fight. 
 Yet most unequal : for the prostrate man, 
 Not slain, but sorely wounded, twined his arms 
 Around brave Bancroft, dragging him to earth. 
 Then fighting for dear life against such odds. 
 And parrying as he could the front attack, 
 To free himself from this disabling grasp 
 He kicked (as who would not ?) the clinging foe. 
 A sergeant chanced to see him fighting thus. 
 And rushing to the rescue, cried aloud. 
 His honest English heart disdaining aught 
 Of foul or cowardly, " Enough, forbear. 
 Strike him not, Bancroft, for the man is down." 
 
 Such is the untaught Briton at his best : 
 Here you may see him so debased by drink. 
 That while one kicks his moaning wife to death. 
 Some dozen ruffians stand unheeding by ; 
 'Tis no affair of theirs to interpose. 
 Drum therefore, O ye Templars, drum such rogues 
 
GOOD TEMPLARS. 27 
 
 Out of the land, or rather bring them back 
 
 At once to manhood and sobriety. 
 
 Our English stock is sound, but mar the best. 
 
 And oftentimes you change it to the worst. 
 
 You hesitate, dear friend, you cannot quite 
 
 Commend these efforts. Doubtless (you admit), 
 
 Bacchus is one with Belial ; and his host 
 
 Of Satyrs, one part human, two parts brute. 
 
 Express the degradation, not the woe. 
 
 Which drunkenness entails : but these good men 
 
 Will hardly mend the matter, for you deem 
 
 Good Templars undisceming fanatics 
 
 Who pull the house down to destroy the rat ; 
 
 Who wildly misinterpret holy texts 
 
 To suit their purpose, and pronounce unclean 
 
 What God hath blest, the produce of the vilie ; 
 
 The wine that gladdeneth the heart of man ; 
 
 The wine that cheered the bridegroom and the bride 
 
 Of Cana, and is Symbol of the Blood 
 
 Which pleads our pardon at the Throne of God. 
 
 You tell me Temperance is the higher life, 
 
 And that we need no new society, 
 
 No mimicry of mediaeval pomp. 
 
 We Christians, who were pledged as soldiers true 
 
 To fight against the Devil and the flesh ; 
 
 Not only drunkenness, but avarice, 
 
 And all impurity of act or thought. 
 
 You warn us while we shrink from all abuse 
 
 Of God's sweet bounty, that we 'count it not 
 
 Unclean, but use it well, for it is good. 
 
 Who can gainsay your words ? And yet methinks 
 
 I would not stay that drumming if I might. 
 
 When men are roused by misery and wrong 
 
28 THE COUNTY PALATINE. 
 
 To set things right, you cannot draw a line 
 Just so far ofif, and hold them on this side ! 
 A mountain-evil needs a giant's force 
 To move it ; and the giants of these days 
 Are all enthusiasts, who surge towards 
 Their object heedless of the paths they tread. 
 The drowning man blames not the violence 
 Of the curled wave that whirled him like a straw 
 And dashed him high upon the rocky strand ; 
 It bruised his limbs withal, but saved his life. 
 
PART 11. 
 
 %acre0 poems. 
 
SACRED POEMS. 
 
 THE STRAIT GATE. 
 
 TRAIT is the gate." This was the preacher's 
 
 text. 
 Reluctant at the first the stream flowed out, 
 As if its unseen impetus were vext 
 By rocklike obstacles, that lurked about 
 The door of utterance, and half confined 
 The thoughts that welled to light from unknown depths 
 of mind. 
 
 But still we listened : for we knew ere long 
 Those slow uncertain gushes would expand 
 Into a river, rolling fresh and strong 
 Its brimming water through the thirsty land, 
 Inviting all that human is to drink 
 The 'diamond drops of love that sparkled at its brink. 
 
32 SACRED POEMS. 
 
 And so it come to pass : the accents clear, 
 The avalanche of words, the kindling glance, 
 Compelled the all but earless dolt to hear, 
 Then rapt the hearer to a holy trance : 
 And when the last sublimest climax rose, 
 " Strait is the Gate," was still the cadence at its close. 
 
 That night I dreamt a dream. I seemed to see 
 The images that preacher's sacred art 
 Had wrought by heavenly photography 
 Upon the fleshly tablets of my heart, 
 Stand out before me. Dream so clear and plain 
 I never dreamt before — shall never dream again. 
 
 Methought I saw a distant city stand 
 Above dark mountains piled about its base. 
 Stately and fair, upon a table land ; 
 Like some cloud city, radiant with a grace 
 Reflected from within, and lovelier far 
 Than ever gleamed from sun, or rounded moon, or star. 
 
 And as I gazed, there stirred a little breeze 
 That wafted to the spot whereon I stood 
 A summer fragrance from ambrosial trees. 
 Of bloom, and dropping balm, and odorous wood ; 
 And strains of harping floated on the blast ; 
 I could but bate my breath, and listen while they past. 
 
 " Would God," I said to one who lingered near, 
 " Some clue might lead me to a home so fair ; 
 No labour I should grudge, no peril fear, 
 So I might gain at length my freedom there." 
 " Go, ask," he answered, " yonder multitude, 
 That throng, like swarming bees, yon gate and Holy 
 Rood." 
 
THE STRAIT GATE. 23 
 
 I sought the crowd ; and lo ! an open door, 
 Through which a well-girt traveller might march 
 With pilgrim staff in hand, and nothing more. 
 Bending his head beneath the narrowing arch ; 
 So entered, while I gazed, but two or three : 
 Around the portal swarmed a niurmuring company. 
 
 And in their midst I was aware of one. 
 Arrayed in white, whose voice and face I knew, 
 That preacher, and his eyes with pity shone 
 To see the passage traversed by so few ; 
 And ever and anon above the hum 
 He hfted up his voice : " The door is open, come I " 
 
 " Good sir," I cried in haste, " if so I may. 
 How gladly will I pass this blessbd gate ! 
 Tell me at once the price that I must pay ; 
 The road is long ; I fear to be too late." 
 Smiling, he said, " The way to Paradise 
 Is open now to all, for One has paid the price.'' 
 
 I stood amazed ; " Ah, wherefore then," I said, 
 " The tarrying of this multitude, who stand 
 With gloomy brow, or sadly shaking head. 
 And clutch their burdens with a tightening hand. 
 Why this dejection, if the way be free ? " 
 " Behold,".he said, "and thou mayst solve the mystery." 
 
 I stood aside, and marked a gentle youth, 
 A very " rose of youths," so fair and wise ; 
 His brow was whitened by the hand of Truth ; 
 And Hope had stored her azure in his eyes 
 Intent upon the city far away, 
 And brightening like the east with glow of coming day. 
 4 
 
34 SACRED POEMS. 
 
 To whom the Warder, and he spake as one 
 Who loved him well : " I set an open door 
 Before thy face : delay not, O my son. 
 To tread the path all saints have travelled o'er ; 
 Not one of all that band, with joy elate. 
 But trod this narrow way, and passed this lowly gate." 
 
 Then he assayed to pass with hurried pace, 
 As though athirst with saintly ones to mix ; 
 But lo ! his casket, borne with dainty grace. 
 Was roughly jostled by a Crucifix, 
 Whose thorn-crowned Brow, and piercfed Feet and Side, 
 And outstretched bleeding Hands for love and pity cried. 
 
 Vain was his utmost striving ; all in vain 
 The toil with lightened burden he pursued ; 
 Returning, but to be repelled again, 
 And baffled by the stern, unyielding Rood. 
 The swimmer thus resolved some wreck to reach 
 Relentless waves fling back despairing on the beach. 
 
 Then spake the Warder pit3dngly : " My son, 
 Thou and thy cherished casket first must part ; 
 Cast all those pearls away — the darling one 
 That thou art hiding nearest to thy heart ; 
 For He, whose Image writhes on yonder Tree, 
 Gave Pearls and Rubies, yea. His Tears and Blood for thee. 
 
 Once more the prospect of the city wall 
 Bedewed his eyes with drops of fond regret ; 
 But that most precious casket held his all ; 
 He could not cast it from him. No, not yet ! 
 Ah, craven spirit, shrinking from the cost. 
 Poor gain is all this world, if thine own soul be. lost ! 
 
THE STRAIT GATE. 35 
 
 I mused thereon, and weeping, lo, I heard. 
 Or seemed to hear upon the sighing breeze 
 Those angel-harpers strike a minor chord 
 Amidst the joyance of their harmonies ; 
 " Return, dear boy, why wilt thou die ? " they say, 
 But he, with drooping head, goes slowly on his way. 
 
 And now the roll of wheel, and tramp of hoof, 
 And dusty whirlwind curling up the street, 
 Warned the expectant multitude aloof, 
 And claimed their homage and obeisance meet 
 For Fashion's daughters, rich in silken fold, 
 And braided towers of hair, and ears distort with gold. 
 
 " Throw open wide the gate," a courier cried, 
 " Their ladyships would visit yonder town ; 
 All other pleasant places they have tried. 
 And hitherward are drawn by the renown 
 Of those eternal fountains, which men say 
 O'er groves of fairest fruit disperse a rainbow spray." 
 
 The Warder answered : " Yonder arch of stone 
 May not be entered in such lordly guise, 
 Both rich and poor may make those joys their own, 
 But few of this world's wealthy, great, and wise. 
 Will bend the lofty brow of pride so low. 
 As through this narrow gate, beneath the Cross, to go. 
 
 " Strip off, fair dames, those weeds of vanity ; 
 Reject those purchased tresses ; vail your own ; 
 Unclasp the bracelet, let both hands be free 
 To wash the saints' feet Thus 'tis yours alone. 
 Through self-denial, lowliness, and strife. 
 To reach the Rainbow Fount, and pluck the Fruit of Life. 
 
36 SACRED POEMS. 
 
 " Descend ! No chariot rolls these walls between, 
 'Tis a steep /o<?t-wa.y rising to yon cloud, 
 
 On foot the Lord Himself, and our dear Queen " 
 
 Thus far they listened ; then their laughter loud 
 Could be supprest no longer. " Turn," they cried, 
 " Along the broad highway, and through the portals wide.'' 
 
 Then I awoke, to cast my treasure down : 
 " Thy way, not mine, O Lord," I weeping said, 
 " I ask no more the Saints' illustrious crown 
 And home of glory ; let me only tread 
 In Thy meek footprints ; see "Thy servant stand 
 As Jacob stood of yore by Jordan, staff in hand. 
 
 "I see Thine arms of love extended wide ; 
 I look upon the Blood that Thou hast shed ; 
 Surely this world to me is crucified. 
 And I henceforth to joys of sm am dead. 
 Live Thou alone in me, O Life Divine, 
 And teach this heart to beat in unison with Thine." 
 
 So with the hands of faith and love I claspt 
 His bleeding feet, nor thought of other bliss, 
 But only how my Jesus' love surpast 
 All love of men or angels. This, oh this, 
 To sinner, such as I, was very Heaven, 
 To kneel beneath the Cross, and weep, and be forgiven. 
 
 And thus I past the Gate with earnest will ; 
 And as I journey, gleams I sometimes see 
 Of that bright home, that all my spirit thrill ; 
 But oftener clouds and darkness compass me. 
 It may be that the darkness will increase. 
 But Thou art with me, Lord, and a// Thy way is peace. 
 
ASCENSION. 
 
 NTWINE thy pink white chaplet, May; 
 Gush forth mid-air thy Uquid lay, 
 
 Bird-spirit sky-ascending ; 
 Ring out, church-bells, your loudest chime, 
 And honour well this holy time. 
 
 Your eight-fold voices blending. 
 
 The hawthorn blossoms as before ; 
 The lark is here to sing and soar 
 
 Across the morning ether. 
 So high, as scarce to hear the bells 
 Whose brazen-throated music swells 
 
 A thousand feet beneath her. 
 
 But May's fair dewy wreaths will fade ; 
 The quiring lark that heaven assayed, 
 
 Fall voiceless mid the clover ; 
 And those brave notes, rung out so fast, 
 And multiplied upon the blast, 
 
 When sinks the wind, be over. 
 
38 SACRED POEMS. 
 
 So, gathered in the Sacred Fane, 
 We wake the high Ascension strain 
 
 With voice and heart and fingers ; 
 'Tis joy ; and yet not joy alone, 
 A cadence sad, an undertone 
 
 Around the anthem lingers. 
 
 'Tis joy, for bliss awaits Him now ! 
 'Tis joy, for crowns adorn His brow ! 
 
 But while we hear the story, 
 And see those faithful bosoms swell, 
 And sink beneath His last farewell, 
 
 We half forget the glory. 
 
 Then faithful hearts begin to yearn. 
 Impatient for our King's return. 
 
 And that long-promised morrow. 
 Whose dawning, ne'er to fade again. 
 Shall disentwine our triumph strain 
 
 From every note of sorrow. 
 
 But while we watch and long and pray, 
 Oh, haste we to prepare IJis way 
 
 By acts of loving duty ; 
 Content to toil till life be past. 
 So He shall glad our eyes at last. 
 
 The King in Royal Beauty. 
 
 
SS. SIMON AND JUDE. 
 
 P^nj ^KELL us, twin champions, souls to Jesus dear, 
 ^ "On what wild coasts ye dared the cross uprear ; 
 What victories ye won, what perils past, 
 And how ye gained your martyr-palms at last. 
 We ask and listen : empty echoes sweep 
 Through caverns where unstoried ages sleep ; 
 No voice replies, or broken sounds that seem 
 The undistinguished mutterings of a dream ; 
 Or mimic ocean tides that ebb and swell 
 Within the spiral hollows of a shell : 
 Tradition's dubious witness, and no more. 
 That Simon won his crown on Britain's shore ; 
 But neither cross nor cromlech marks the spot, 
 Or if there be, its meaning is forgot. 
 No matter : for the King shall come again ; 
 And every eye behold that Faithful twain 
 Enthroned beneath the Royal Oriflamb, 
 Two of the Twelve Apostles of the Lajnb ; 
 And all brave deeds, unchronicled by men. 
 Will be proclaimed to earth and heaven then ! 
 
40 SACRED POEMS. 
 
 O Christian, inmate of life's shadiest vale, 
 O hero of an unrecorded tale 
 Too homely to embellish history's page, 
 Too tame to wake the .high poetic rage ; 
 What if, like theirs, thy duties simply done 
 Be writ in light more glorious than the sun, 
 Congenial fruit of apostolic stem. 
 Upon the walls of New Jerusalem ? 
 If pitying alms, forgotten soon as given. 
 Be stored for thee a hundred-fold in heaven ? 
 If silent tapers burnt at Jesus' shrine 
 Illume a glory that shall soon be thine ? 
 Though Amorites may lord it for a day, 
 And Abraham's seed sojourn in tents : yet stay 
 Till darkness and confusion pass away. 
 Then shall the meek, in right of royal birth, 
 Possess the ransomed heritage of earth ; 
 Then shall the day-spring from on high reveal 
 What diamonds earth's envious depths conceal, 
 And lilies, by the world's hard heel down-trod, 
 Shall blossom in the bosom of their God. 
 
 r«J> 
 
HOME SICKNESS. 
 
 A BALLAD. 
 
 Part I. 
 
 BEFORE THE BATTLE. 
 "Here we have no abiding city." 
 
 (WAY in the far Crimsea, when shades of 
 evening fell, 
 No sight, but the gleaming bayonet of moon- 
 lit sentinel ; 
 
 No sound, but his murmured challenge and heavy cease- 
 less tramp, 
 And the distant songs of the camp-fire betoken a British 
 camp. 
 
 That night on the alien hill-side, in sad and thoughtful 
 
 mood, ■ 
 Apart from their jesting comrades, two youthful soldiers 
 
 stood, 
 
42 SACRED POEMS. 
 
 And earnestly spake of Scotland, the country of their 
 
 birth, 
 Their kindred, and their affection — the dearest spot on 
 
 earth. 
 
 They spake, and the patriot spirit, like eagle or fugitive 
 dove, 
 
 As swift as the aery monarch, as true as the emblem of 
 love; 
 
 Away from the trumpet and banner, and tread of march- 
 ing men, 
 
 Escaped to the blossoming heather, the mist-mantled 
 mountain and glen. 
 
 Hark ! 'tis the voice of the younger, his summers are scarce 
 
 seventeen. 
 Heaven shield his fair head in the warfare he wages for 
 
 country and queen ; 
 " My soul is athirst for Scotland — athirst — but in vain, in 
 
 vain, 
 I shall never set foot upon heather and climb the grey 
 
 crags again. 
 
 " To-morrow I carry the colours : fear not that I shall 
 
 shame 
 The land of our brave forefathers and Scotland's warrior 
 
 fame ; 
 My sword is unfleshed with slaughter, but never will I 
 
 shrink back 
 From the post of duty and glory, the front of the fierce 
 
 attack. 
 
HOME SICKNESS. 43 
 
 " Yet a voice I cannot silence — I think it is sent from on 
 
 high- 
 Is repeating its solemn warning, ' To-morrow thou must 
 
 die; ' 
 It comes like the shrouded fingers in King Belshazzar's 
 
 hall, 
 When 'Mene, Mene, Tekel,' was blazoned upon the 
 
 wall. 
 
 "So, if I should fall in the battle (God's will, not mine, 
 
 be done ! ), 
 You know that she is a widow, and I am her only son; 
 Give her this farewell letter, and this beloved book, 
 The same that at my departure from her dear hand I 
 
 took. 
 
 " Say it has been my companion whatever soil I trod ; 
 At first for her sake I read it, and then for myself and 
 
 God. 
 And tell her those dear old lessons she taught me with 
 
 patient prayer. 
 Came back with marvellous power when she was no 
 
 longer there. 
 
 " Then add, for that will give comfort, the tale of this 
 
 moonlit hill, 
 How here like brother with brother, in the evening calm 
 
 and still, 
 We bent the knee to our Father, commending, on hostile 
 
 sod, 
 Ourselves, and her, and Scotland, and all we held dear 
 
 to God. 
 
44 SACRED POEMS. 
 
 "Say, while we were reading together, I felt my spirit 
 
 bum 
 Within me to hear of pilgrims who never might return 
 To earthly kindred and nation ; but lo ! the I>ord had 
 
 given 
 ' A city which hath foundations,' a better home in 
 
 heaven." 
 
 Part II. 
 
 BY THE ARMY CHAPLAIN. 
 "We seek one to come." 
 
 N front, far up the trampled hill they found 
 him, — 
 They found him where he fell. 
 With broken blade and colours folded round 
 him 
 Keeping his boast too well 
 
 Now bleeding, fainting, piteously wounded 
 
 In his own tent he lay ; 
 The brave young life that through his limbs had bounded 
 
 Was ebbing fast away. 
 
 Water, more water, cools the lips so blackened. 
 
 So tortured at the first ; 
 Ah, blessed draught ! The agony is slackened, 
 
 Yet murmurs he, " I thirst — 
 
HOME SICKNESS. 43 
 
 " Not now for Alma's wave, but Scotland's fountains, 
 All else to me is dry ; 
 
 that 'twere mine to see the dear blue mountains 
 
 Once more before I die I 
 
 " Ah ! mother, reft of life's supremest treasure, 
 
 If I could hear thee speak, 
 If I could only feel thy lip's soft pressure 
 
 Upon my dying cheek ! " 
 
 Poor gallant boy ! we wept to see him lying, 
 
 Too young for such fell strife. 
 His home affection even in death undying. 
 
 Instinct with endless life 1 
 
 1 spake of Jesus, and His Crucifixion ; 
 
 " For thee, dear boy, He died. 
 And now He bids thee hide thy soul's affliction 
 Within His Wounded Side." - 
 
 He thanked me for the word, with meek behaviour ; 
 
 " Ah, His was sorer loss, 
 To thirst in vain for God, my Blessed Saviour, 
 
 And die upon a cross." 
 
 That day we ate and drank in calm Communion 
 
 The quickening Wine and Bread, 
 The souls sweet bond of Sacramental union 
 
 With our ascended Head. 
 
 That so the Lamb, once led to death and slaughter. 
 
 Might soothe this yearning pain ; 
 For whoso drinketh of His living water 
 
 Shall never thirst again. 
 
46 SA CUED POEMS. 
 
 Brief space before he died, the mist of fever 
 
 O'erspread his lucid mind 
 With thronging images, as fresh as ever. 
 
 Of scenes long left behind. 
 
 Startling the watchers with strange names of places, 
 
 In homely Scottish phrase ; 
 And scraps of song which memory interlaces 
 
 With childhood's happy days. 
 
 And still, wherever fitful fancy bore him, 
 
 He seemed to hear a knell. 
 And conjure up familiar things before him. 
 
 Only to say, farewell. 
 
 At last a burning wish, before unspoken, 
 
 For he had deemed it wrong, 
 
 As soon as Reason's silver cord was broken, 
 
 \ Burst forth in utterance strong. 
 
 "Not here," he pleaded ; " leave me not, dear mother. 
 Here on this blood-stained strand ; 
 
 Lay me beside my father, and my brother, 
 At home, in fair Scotland." 
 
 It could not be ! Beside the Russian river. 
 
 Wrapped in his tartan plaid. 
 To sleep afar from home, but not for ever, 
 
 The hero boy we laid. 
 
 And grandly rose that evening in September 
 
 His chanted requiem ; 
 " Fail this right hand, ere I no more remember 
 
 Thee, O Jerusalem !" 
 1856.- 
 
THE EPISTLE AND THE GOSPEL FOR 
 ALL SAINTS' DAY. 
 
 N the dim nave I take my far-off station, 
 A man of sullied heart and stammering lip, 
 Nor dare to claim on this high celebration 
 A portion in your choral fellowship. 
 
 The CoTect prayed, I listen to the story ^ 
 Wherein the youngest of the Seers has told, 
 
 Triumphant Saints, what mystery of glory 
 
 Your palms and glistening robes and crowns enfold. 
 
 I hear beneath the rapture of your voices 
 A tenderness that singing Angels miss ; 
 
 My lips are mute : yet, O, my heart rejoices 
 To hear my King extolled in song like this ! 
 
 Show me, I pray you. Choristers immortal, 
 The tenor of your way in former years ; 
 
 Say, did ye never falter at the portal. 
 
 Or wander, and retrace your steps with tears ? 
 
 ' For the Epistle- -Rev. vii. 2-12. 
 
48 SACRED POEMS. 
 
 Such saintliness your heavenly lot evinces, 
 
 With such a royal radiance ye shine, 
 Methinks ye must have moved, like God's own Princes, 
 
 Afar from such an erring course as mine. 
 
 A burst of praise ! and then the calm evangel ' 
 
 Distilled a balmy answer on my heart, 
 As if some dear compassionating angel 
 
 Had flown from Heaven to talk with me apart. 
 
 No splendid gifts, no superhuman graces. 
 
 Marked out these Blessfed from their fellow-men ; 
 
 Those who sit foremost now in heavenly places 
 Were counted as the least and lowest then. 
 
 They were the Meek, the Gentle, the Pure-hearted, 
 Peace-loving souls still yearning peace to make, 
 
 The Persecuted, who serenely parted 
 With darling treasures for the Kingdom's sake. 
 
 And some, on beds of downy dalliance sleeping, 
 
 Were startled in the middle of the night, 
 To rise, and kiss the Piercfed Feet with weeping, 
 . Till Blood and Water washt their raiment white. 
 
 " Glory, O Lord, to thee " for these Good-tidings, 
 And for the hope these Benedictions shed. 
 
 That contrite hearts, recovered from back-slidings 
 Among All Saints may yet be comforted. 
 
 All hail, sweet souls, strangers to me no longer. 
 
 Lambs of my flock, my neighbours and my friends, 
 Whom I have watched in meekness waxing stronger. 
 
 And ripening for the bliss that never ends. 
 
 ' See the Gospel St. Matthew v. 1-12. 
 
ALL SAINTS' DA V. 49 
 
 Calm, patient forms, on beds of anguish lying, - 
 How often have I claspt your pallid hand, 
 
 And pointed through the restless strife of dying 
 To peaceful mansions in the Fatherland. 
 
 Mourners for sin, how oft your supplication, 
 Your sad confession has gone up with mine ; 
 
 Ye souls athirst for Christ and His salvation, 
 Together we have drunk the Mystic Wine ! 
 
 Pray for me, dear companions, I entreat you, 
 For one who often falls and quickly faints ; 
 
 For one who weeps to think he may not meet you. 
 To keep in Heaven this Festal of All Saints. 
 
THE STILL SMALL VOICE. 
 
 'ER the granite crags of Horeb swept the 
 Tempest, Earthquake, Flame j 
 Then " a still small Voice," and with it 
 The Shekinah came ! 
 
 Rolled the ages wild and bloody, then the counterpart 
 was heard 
 In the still small Voice of Jesus, 
 God's Incarnate Word. 
 
 And that voice of gospel sweetness, far away thro' mart 
 and street, 
 Jesu's Bride, and Jesu's Spirit, 
 Everywhere repeat. 
 
 But the day of grace is waning, see its beams are pale 
 and wan, 
 Wliile the night of tribulation 
 Darkly loometh on. 
 
 See beneath the falling night-cloud white wings of the 
 Holy Dove, 
 And her stilly note is shaken 
 With foreboding love ; 
 
THE STILL SMALL VOICE. 51 
 
 Ere she speed her flight reluctant to the fair home 
 whence she came, 
 Leaving this doomed world to Earthquake, 
 Hurricane, and Flame ! 
 
 O my soul, be up and doing, let not that sweet Dove 
 depart. 
 Weave for her a nest embowered 
 In thy duteous heart. 
 
 If with hand and voice thou win her to abide thy willing 
 Guest, 
 In the midst of tribula,tioa 
 She will give thee rest 
 
 So when rocks are rent asunder at that final Tempest 
 blast, 
 Thou shalt " close thy doors about thee " 
 Till the storm be past. 
 
 So when Godless thrones are reeling at the heaving 
 Earthquake shock, 
 Thou shalt plant thy feet unswerving 
 On the changeless Rock. 
 
 So the Fire that burns before Him like Vesuvius' lava-bed. 
 Shall but wreath its lambent glories 
 Round thy sheltered head. 
 
 Till, the days of vengeance shortened, sounds agaia 
 the still small Voice, 
 " Come, thou good and faithful servant, 
 With thy Lord rejoice." 
 4* 
 
CHRISTIAN WOMANHOOD. 
 
 " Now Jesus loved Martha and her sister." 
 
 LOVING Lord, of woman born, 
 And fed at woman's breast, 
 
 Whose heart by man's rebellion torn 
 In woman's love found rest. 
 
 O clothed by woman's pitying hand 
 
 In marvel of the loom, 
 By women watched — a faithful band — 
 
 Beside the Cross and Tomb. 
 
 Direct each Christian woman's heart, 
 That widow, maid, and wife, 
 
 By cleaving to the better part, 
 May gain eternal life. 
 
 Lead them to learn in maidenhood 
 
 Of Mary, maiden mild. 
 Who like a fragrant lily stood 
 
 In meekness undefiled ; 
 
CHRISTIAN WOMANHOOD. 53 
 
 And grew in beauty day by day, 
 
 With dew celestial blest, 
 Until the World's Creator lay 
 
 Upon her virgin breast ; 
 
 That they, subduing wayward pride 
 
 By holy Rite and Prayer, 
 May kneel at Holy Altar-side, 
 
 And feel Thy Presence there. 
 
 And when the silvery-sparkling rime 
 
 Of maiden's early years 
 Shall melt into the golden time 
 
 Of matron smiles and tears ; 
 
 When cares and pleasures intervene 
 
 " An undistinguished throng," 
 And swiftly whirl thro' shade or sheen 
 
 Her stream of life along ; 
 
 Whatever action, thought, or sense 
 
 Within her being have part, 
 Distil Thy holy influence 
 
 On hand, and head, and heart ; 
 
 That so no darling child's embrace. 
 
 No husband of her choice. 
 Retard her new-bom fruits of Grace, 
 
 And hide the Bridegroom's voice ; 
 
 Nor fashion's ever-shifting tide. 
 
 Nor daily household care. 
 Allure her from Thy sheltering side. 
 
 Or wean her soul from prayer. 
 
54 SACRED POEMS. 
 
 And when at length the shades of night 
 Are closing round her head, 
 
 Her children scattered from her sight, 
 The one, who loved her, dead ; 
 
 In that long lonely eventide, 
 
 That weary waiting-hour, 
 Haste, Son of Mary, to abide 
 
 With her in love and power, 
 
 And bid her failing spirit bear 
 
 All solitude and pain. 
 In hope of Home Eternal, where 
 
 Her dead shall live again. 
 
 But some have chosen Mary's part, 
 And wear the Virgin weed 
 
 For Thee, the Virgin Lamb, who art 
 'Midst lilies wont to feed ; 
 
 Content to labour day and night. 
 With love that never faints, 
 
 To weave the Raiment fair and white, 
 To wash the feet of Saints ; 
 
 To watch alone while others sleep. 
 While others laugh to pray. 
 
 And trim the silver lamps they keep 
 All burning until Day. 
 
 For them no bridegroom's tender kiss. 
 No babe's caressing hand ; 
 
 Life's flowery paths they calmly miss. 
 Like strangers in the land. 
 
CHRISTIAN WOMANHOOD. 55 
 
 But such pure souls in heaven above 
 
 Thy kindred soul will choose, 
 And recompense with sweeter love 
 
 The love they now refuse. 
 
 For Thou wilt teach Thy virgin choirs 
 
 The Song no Saint can learn, 
 And jewels set of purer fires. 
 
 On purer brows to bum. 
 
 I hear Thy voice in gentle tone 
 
 To each sweet sister say, 
 " Rise up, my love, my bride, my own. 
 
 Rise up, and come away. 
 
 " Lo ! after weary winter glooms. 
 Thy Sun has chased the showers ; 
 
 Now thy eternal home assumes 
 Its beauty of spring flowers. 
 
 " " The time of singing birds comes on, 
 The ring-dove coos her lay, 
 Rise up, my fair, belovfed one. 
 Rise up, and come away." 
 
 Then those chaste souls who patient trod 
 
 A barren path below, 
 Shall follow Thee, the Lamb of God, 
 
 Wherever Thou mayst go. 
 
 Through gorgeous worlds beyond the sky, 
 
 Through such a dream of bliss. 
 That every wondering voice shall cry, 
 
 " What poet imaged this ? " 
 
56 SACRED POEMS. 
 
 Yet no created place or thing, 
 No heights of fair renown, 
 
 To these enraptured souls will bring 
 Their joy's supremest crown. 
 
 But all their glory, all their pride, 
 To hear the Bridegroom say, 
 
 " Rise up, my fair, my love, my bride. 
 Rise up, and come away.'' 
 
THE LAMB AND THE DOVE. 
 
 ITH a lily in her hand, 
 With her infant like the others. 
 See a youthful matron stand, 
 Meekest of the Hebrew mothers. 
 This is Mary, undefiled, 
 Mary and the Holy Child. 
 
 Some would offer gifts of price. 
 Keeping thus the law of Moses, 
 Spotless lambs, in sacrifice, 
 Chapletted with leaves and roses. 
 Mary, with the poorest sort, 
 Only milk-white turtles brought. 
 
 Not a lamb. Yet Mary knew. 
 If she heard the Message rightly ; 
 If the glowing hymns were true. 
 Angels whispered round her nightly, 
 All the lambs at altars shown 
 Were but shadows of her own. 
 
58 
 
 SACRED POEMS. 
 
 Dear to us, indeed, Thou art. 
 Holy Mother, Lowly Maiden, 
 Pondering marvels in thine heart ; 
 With the world's salvation laden ; 
 Lamb to take our sins away. 
 Dove within our souls to stay. 
 
THE SHIPWRECK. 
 
 A BALLAD. 
 
 Scene -.—A Fanfily Party in a Collage, on Christmas Eve. 
 
 Father. 
 MERRIE Christmas ! A merrie Christmas \ 
 
 May God's good blessing comfort all ! 
 We fare as merrily here in the cottage as oui" 
 good Squire and his friends at the hall. 
 
 First Child. 
 
 See how baby and Ellen are sitting, the firelight flickering 
 
 over head ; 
 It makes me think of the Virgin Mary and Jesus in the 
 
 cattle-shed. 
 
 Second Child. 
 
 I wish we could see the three Wise Men and all, their 
 
 slaves come in at the door, 
 With crowns of gold, and purple raiment, and all the 
 
 beautiful gifts they bore. 
 
6o SACRED POEMS. 
 
 Mother. ' 
 
 You're thinking of the Christmas Carols ; we shall dream 
 
 about them, I believe, 
 To me they were like the voices of angels rejoicing on 
 
 this Holy Eve. 
 
 Children. 
 Mother, may we be Carol singers when Christmas-tide 
 
 comes round once more. 
 And stand and sing to you and father, like little angels, 
 
 outside the door ?. 
 
 Mother. 
 
 The children are quite worn-out with playing, and early 
 
 hours are the healthiest. 
 Now kneel we down and thank our Father before the 
 
 little ones go to rest. 
 
 \They kneel, and tlie Father prays. 
 
 Father. 
 
 Now to bed, and up in the .morning ! Up, and out in the 
 
 frosty weather. 
 We shall muster a goodly party trooping off to the church 
 
 together. 
 
 \The little Children retire. 
 
 Mother. 
 
 Husband, why did thy firm voice falter ? Wherefore saw 
 
 I the starting tear ? 
 Surely we ought to be very happy with all our children 
 
 around us here. 
 
THE SHIPWRECK. 6i 
 
 Father. 
 
 Trembled my soul at the children's question ; rose un- 
 bidden a doubting pain, 
 
 While they were speaking of luxt year's Carols, whether 
 we all might hear them again. 
 
 Mother. 
 
 Courage ! let us trust our Father : faith makes all things 
 
 clear and bright ; 
 Let the Past enlighten the Future 1 Is not William with 
 
 us to-night ? 
 
 Father. 
 
 Draw we now our circle closer, friends and kinsmen 
 
 loving and true ; 
 William shall tell, while the yule-log blazes, all the perils 
 
 God brought him through. 
 
 WILLIAM'S STORY. 
 
 On board the luckless " Ocean Queen," 
 
 Luckless the hand that wrought her 1 
 We gUded past the woodland screen 
 
 That skirts Southampton Water. 
 'Twas my first voyage ; and years before 
 
 I made a childish boast 
 Of heart-felt longings to explore 
 The wonders.of each unknown shore, 
 
 Each undiscovered coast : 
 But then my heart was full of care 
 For home and kindly faces there. 
 
62 SACRED POEMS. 
 
 I thought of father and of mother, 
 
 How loving they had been ; 
 And still more fondly of another 
 
 Whom I had lately seen, 
 And loved for ever ; whose affection 
 
 Will hallow all my life. 
 Dear Ellen, now you sit beside me, 
 And if I praise, your eyes will chide me, 
 
 My own belovfed wife ! 
 But, Ellen, you will let me say 
 I thought of you — it made me pray. 
 
 We sailors seem a jovial set, 
 
 As light as ocean-foam, 
 But in our hearts we ne'er forget 
 
 The dear ones left at home. 
 And when we keep the midnight watch. 
 
 The home stars overhead. 
 And listen to the quiet tide 
 Rippling against the vessel's side, 
 
 Full many a tear is shed ; 
 And yet our messmates never see 
 This tribute paid to memory. 
 
 Toil-harden'd, dissolute, untaught, 
 
 Ours was a godless crew ; 
 So every calmer purer thought 
 
 Was given to Heaven and you ; 
 Yet not quite all : for there was one, 
 
 A younger lad than I, 
 Still quite a child, the skipper's son. 
 Whose gentle speech and bearing won 
 
 Kind looks from every eye. 
 
THE SHIPWRECK. 63 
 
 He flourish'd like a blossom fair 
 Perfuming pestilential air. 
 
 Good angels spread a covering 
 
 Around this lonely child, 
 To ward off every hurtful thing, 
 
 And keep him undefiled. 
 For him the skipper school'd his tongue, 
 
 And smooth'd his surly mood. 
 So knowing not the Apostle's plan, 
 " Simple of ill," a course he ran, 
 
 " But wise in all things good." 
 Yes, angels watch by land and sea. 
 Where'er Christ's little ones may be I 
 
 He knew, for he had learnt by love. 
 
 What books cannot impart. 
 Wisdom which cometh from above, 
 
 God's teaching in the heart — 
 And nothing more — so I became 
 
 His teacher day by day ; 
 But Heaven works by whom it will. 
 And, mother, I remembered still 
 
 Those prayers you heard me say, 
 'Twas while we prayed he understood 
 That Jesus saves us by His Blood. 
 
 And very soon he'seemed to know 
 More truths than I could tell ; 
 
 The Bible says it shall be so. 
 For I remember well 
 
 ^ow Jesus thanked the Lord of Heaven 
 
64 SACRED POEMS. 
 
 Who shows to infant eyes 
 Those mysteries of the Better Land 
 Which others may not understand, 
 
 Though prudent men and wise. 
 Baptized anew he seemed to be 
 Within the cloud and on the sea ! 
 
 So while the " Ocean Queen " sped on 
 
 Through calm or stormy weather, 
 The Love that " seeketh not her own " 
 
 Knit our two souls together ; 
 And every day young Robert grew 
 
 In holiness apace, 
 I saw celestial sweetness rise, 
 Like parting glow from sunset skies, 
 
 And mantle o'er his face. 
 He stood prepared in early spring 
 A sheaf for God's ingathering. 
 
 There is a bank of shifting sand 
 
 Off from the mainland rent ; 
 In olden days 'twas Godwin's land 
 
 The kingly Earl of Kent. 
 It stretcheth many a league at sea, 
 
 A dismal waste and dry 
 When tides recede ; but hid from sight, 
 Oft as the usurper claims his right 
 
 With white crest foaming high. 
 Our bark was steered by drunken hand. 
 We drifted on the dangerous strand. 
 
 A ship may strike on sunken rock, 
 And yet come safe to shore ; 
 
THE SHIPWRECK. 65 
 
 Capsized by sudden tempest shock, 
 
 May right herself once more ; 
 But, fallen on stern Earl Godwin's coast, 
 
 God help the good ship then ! 
 'Twould force the hardest eyes to weep 
 Could those dank dungeons show their heap 
 
 Of buried ships and men. 
 Of hands outstretcht in wild despair, 
 Or claspt in penitential prayer ! 
 
 Our sailors quickly understand 
 
 The inevitable woe ; 
 The keel, embedded in the sand, 
 
 Lies rocking to and fro, 
 Dragged down, as by some demon hand, 
 . To horrid gulfs below. 
 " The Goodwin Sands ! The Goodwin Sands ! 
 
 The quicksand sucks us in ! " 
 We rise and struggle for dear life. 
 Ah, vain the effort, vain the strife ; 
 
 Already waves begin 
 To sweep at will the shuddering deck, 
 And scream above the sinking wreck. 
 
 We looked for aid, but aid was none 
 
 For our ill-fated bark ; 
 We had no boat, no signal-gun. 
 
 The night was wild and dark. 
 Yet knew we where the life-boat lay 
 
 Upon the beach at Deal ! 
 O could ye only, only know. 
 
 Deal boatmen true as steel. 
 Right soon your mighty measured row 
 
 Would lift the milk-white keel, 
 6 
 
66 SACRED POEMS. 
 
 To glide like silver-breasted dove 
 Upon a holy quest of love ! 
 
 Athwart the mist, against the blast 
 
 Our eyes and ears we strain, 
 But only see the shortened mast, 
 
 And hear the bellowing main. 
 " Some bark may now be sailing past ! " 
 
 We shout, but shout in vain. 
 Hope is long-lived ; it seldom fails 
 
 Save with the failing breath. 
 Hope struggled on, then died, and then- 
 I saw full forty godless men 
 
 Stand front to front with death ! 
 What things I saw it were not well 
 For you to hear or me to tell. 
 
 No, let me rather speak of him — 
 
 The boy so young and true ; 
 I watched him in the flickering gleam 
 
 A hanging lanthorn threw. 
 In the ship's bows, apart from all. 
 
 Apart from all save one. 
 With pleading face I saw him stand 
 And clasp his father's rough right hand 
 
 Fondly between his own : 
 The father looked with troubled eye. 
 The child was speaking earnestly. 
 
 In truth it was the strangest scene. 
 Where all was strange and wild. 
 
 The strong man with dependent mien, 
 The weak yet fearless child. 
 
THE SHIPWRECK. 67 
 
 The shepherd tended by the lamb ; 
 
 The leader gently led ; 
 The bold encouraged by the meek; 
 The strong supported by the weak ; 
 
 But have ye never read, 
 " More than my teachers, Lord, I know; 
 And wiser than the aged grow ? " 
 
 Just then upon his upturn'd brow 
 
 A fuller light was given ; 
 'Twas ever a sweet face — but now 
 
 Like angel's fresh from heaven ! 
 He heeded not the inky sky. 
 
 Nor heard the billows roll ; 
 The day-spring of Eternity 
 
 Was rising in his soul ! 
 The father gazed : his pride gave way. 
 And on the deck he knelt to pray. 
 
 Some childish, half-remembered prayer 
 I saw his lips repeat ; 
 
 deem not it was lost in air. 
 For Robert knelt beside him there 
 
 In intercession sweet. 
 Such as good angels love to bear 
 
 Up to the Mercy-seat. 
 The dying cry of such a son 
 
 Was surely heard in Heaven ; 
 And this poor sinner's pardon won, 
 
 His many sins forgiven. 
 Such was my thought that fearful night, 
 
 1 know not if the thought be right. 
 
 6 * 
 
68 SACRED POEMS. 
 
 The impious crew — ah ! where were they ? 
 
 But few remained on deck ; 
 For some the waves had washed away, 
 And others hoped to float till day 
 
 On fragments of the wreck. 
 My last long prayer had now been said, 
 
 I thought my hour was come : 
 And, not because I felt afraid, 
 But, yearning for my plighted maid 
 
 And parents dear at home, 
 I did kneel down, and beg once more 
 My God to bring me safe ashore. 
 
 Just then, while prayer rekindled hope, 
 
 I saw a chest float past. 
 To which with many a coil of rope 
 
 I bound me safe and fast : 
 " Lord, to Thy hands I now commend 
 
 My soul and body too. 
 For in the uttermost of the sea 
 Thy Spirit good can comfort me 
 
 Thine angel guide me through. " 
 Thus in resigned and trusting mood 
 I floated round where Robert stood. 
 
 " The chest is large, it fleateth high ; 
 
 'Twill bear the child's light weight," 
 I cried aloud ; " to live or die. 
 
 Dear Robert, share my fate ! " 
 The skipper saw, and urged him sore. 
 
 Begging it might be so ; 
 But filial love had mastered fear, 
 I saw (his words I could not hear) 
 
THE SHIPWRECK. 69 
 
 That Robert still said " No." 
 And then he stretcht his arms to me, 
 As if to embrace me o'er the sea, 
 
 And I was forced to go. 
 
 A little moment on the deep 
 
 I wished that I might die ; 
 Even now that parting makes me weep ; 
 
 And yet I know not why 
 We mourn for those that fall asleep 
 
 To wake beyond the sky, 
 Whose mortal is for ever clothed 
 
 With immortality : 
 While we are uttering faithless moan, 
 They stand in white before the throne ; 
 
 And " Holy, Holy " cry. 
 Could we but hear that perfect strain, 
 Our tears would never flow again. 
 
 Adieu ! Adieu ! fair " Ocean Queen," 
 
 Thy latest voyage is o'er, 
 A Uttle hour, and thou art seen 
 
 By mortal men no more. 
 I floated, gazing still at him, 
 
 The friend my soul loved best : 
 As if beyond all thought of harm, 
 He lay within his father's arm 
 
 And nestled in his breast. 
 Death had no power to spoil the charm 
 
 Of that unwonted rest : 
 And so they vanished in the gloom 
 That closed about them like a tomb. 
 
70 SACRED POEMS. 
 
 And I was left alone ! alone 
 
 Upon the darkling main ; 
 Sometimes all hope of life was gone, 
 
 Then it revived again. 
 And once methought I spied a sail 
 And gathered all my strength to hail ; 
 
 'Twas but the foamy billow ; 
 No answer ! but the cruel gale 
 
 That shrieked around my pillow, 
 And seemed to say, " No help is nigh, 
 Thy prayer is vain, despair and die." 
 
 But still I trusted in His love, 
 
 And found my trust repaid 
 With consolation from above 
 
 And unexpected aid. 
 I felt no more the chilling spray. 
 
 Yet sleep it could not be ; 
 I seemed to watch the earliest streak 
 Of morning gleam across the lake 
 
 Of distant Galilee ; 
 I saw our dear Redeemer make 
 
 A pathway o'er the sea, 
 And mount a storm-tost vessel's side. 
 And bid the voyagers' fear subside, 
 
 And wind and wave " be still ; " 
 Then billows bowed, and tempest died, 
 
 Subservient to His Will ; 
 And left the ship in peace to glide 
 
 Beneath the sheltering hill. 
 Awake, I cried, " Remember me. 
 Good Jesu, Lord of air and sea." 
 
THE SHIP WRECK. 7 r 
 
 I lay ; but lo ! no longer tied, 
 
 As if in penal pain 
 Condemned till day of doom to ride 
 
 The storm steeds of the main. 
 For God had all my need supplied, 
 
 And turned my loss to gain ! 
 At early dawn a friendly crew 
 
 Had succoured me half-dead, 
 And brought me home ; and, mother, you 
 And Ellen dear, and father too, 
 
 Were kneeling round the bed. 
 Offering in joyful, tearful mood 
 Meet sacrifice of gratitude. 
 
 Ellen. 
 But, William, you forgot to tell us how ill for many a 
 
 week you lay. 
 And how the pitiless wind and water had almost bruised 
 
 your life away. 
 
 Mother. 
 And what a wonderful nurse was Ellen, and how her hand 
 
 upon one's head 
 Is better for bruises than all the physic of all the 
 
 doctors — so William said. 
 
 Ellen. 
 But, mother, dear, you know when people are ill they 
 make such silly speeches. 
 
 William. 
 Silly or wise, it is honest truth — your nursing cured me, 
 and not the leeches. 
 
72 SACRED POEMS. 
 
 Mother. 
 
 O that dreadful, dreadful morning! Never until my 
 
 dying day 
 Shall I forget how the sailor came to tell us that William 
 
 was cast away. 
 
 Father. 
 Soon they brought us happier tidings : and yet I think 
 
 more tears were shed, 
 When we saw him so pale and corpse-like, almost risen 
 
 again from the dead. 
 
 First Kinsman. 
 Dearly I loved that little Robert — I am so sorry that he 
 
 died, 
 How sweet it would be to see him sitting here to-night at 
 
 William's side. 
 
 William. 
 Dearer the Side where he is sitting, sweeter the Home his 
 
 shelter now, 
 A little while and we all shall see him — the martyr's 
 
 coronal on his brow. 
 
 Second Kinsman. 
 Robert's father was very wicked, and yet so penitent he 
 
 grew, 
 I can't help thinking, as William told us, that he is 
 
 forgiven and resting too. • 
 
THE SHIPWRECK. 73 
 
 Mother. 
 We may not doubt, we may not doubt it : the tear of 
 
 penitence is a gem 
 That seals the deed of the sinner's pardon through Jesus 
 
 born at Bethlehem. 
 
 Father. 
 Well said, wife ! for I was fast forgetting to-morrow is 
 
 Christmas Day ; 
 William's untimely, doleful story has driven our festival 
 
 mirth away. 
 
 Mother. 
 Nay, but to speak to one another of His dear love who 
 
 came from heaven, 
 Purifies our Christmas feasting from every blemish of 
 
 earthly leaven. 
 
 Father. 
 So, good night, and Christ be with ye ! Old time never 
 
 gives us warning, 
 He has stolen a march upon us ! See, already 'tis 
 
 Christmas morning. 
 
 Mother. 
 Good night all ! and if .William's story has filled our eyes 
 
 with unwonted sorrow. 
 Let it kindle a grateful spirit to sing to the Lord in church 
 to-morrow. 
 
 \Exeunt omnes. 
 
THE FAITHFUL PASTOR.' 
 
 A BALLAD. 
 
 ^O a vision glides before me, beautiful exceedingly; 
 I would tell of one whose story vibrates in the 
 
 memory, 
 Like harmonious music stealing o'er the soul on 
 Holy Day, 
 Living in the hallowed feeling kindled ere it passed away. 
 Which thro' many years of sorrow on the mindful ear will cast 
 Prophecies of tearless morrow in sweet echoes of the Past. 
 
 Christ-like he in pure behaviour, Christ-like he in charity 
 Lived, and died in Christ pur Saviour when his years were 
 
 thirty-three. 
 Kind and gentle was his bearing to the aged, sick, and poor ; 
 Every day new troubles sharing brought him to the cottage door. 
 Knowing well each strong temptation, pointing out each 
 
 treacherous path. 
 Oft his heart felt exhortation, spoken at the poor man's hearth. 
 
 ■ For the facts alluded to in this poem, see the 
 Suckling," by the Rev. Isaac Williams. 
 
 ' Life of the late R. A. 
 
THE FAITHFUL PASTOR. 75 
 
 Moved some bruisfed, sinking spirit from the depth, to raise his 
 
 eyes 
 Up to Him whose perfect Merit healeth our infirmities. 
 Hear his earnest sermon stirring sinner vile and pubhcan ; 
 See him leading home the erring as the holy only can ; 
 Like a brother many a sister he thro' penitential pain 
 (While a thoughtless world but hissed her) won to self-respect 
 
 again. 
 Most of all he knew a pleasure in the children God had given, 
 Jesus' lambs, entrusted treasure, washed, regenerate, forgiven, 
 Dowered with the Spirit's measure, sanctified, and sealed for 
 
 Heaven. 
 Upon such his sweet affection like a holy unction fell ; 
 They obeying the direction of the Priest they loved so well. 
 Grew around him and were savfed, walking stedfast in the truth. 
 Lads as bold as holy David, maidens sweet and pure as Ruth. 
 
 Where a little child lay dying he was bending o'er the bed. 
 Whispering of a land by crying, pain, and death unvisited ; 
 Saying — " Thou, dear boy, art going far from Satan's toils and 
 
 harms." 
 Then he prayed, to Jesus bdwing, " Lord, embrace him in Thine 
 
 arms. 
 Clothe him in Thy stainless vesture" — lastly on that drooping 
 
 head 
 Laid his hands with loving gesture, blessing him in Jesus' stead. 
 He departing felt that Blessing, and upraised on elbow weak. 
 Clasped the Pastor's neck impressing dying kisses on his cheek. 
 
 Fails my hand — ye choirs immortal celebrate that spirit blest. 
 Tarrying at your heavenly Portal on the earthly shepherd's breast. 
 Happy both ! for that dear parting was the infant's latest pain ; 
 Pastor, dry the tear-drop starting — ^thou and he will meet again ! 
 Ah, too soon ! For o'er him brightening, daily fell such gleams 
 
 of grace. 
 That the poor said — " He is ripening to behold the Master's face.'' 
 
76 SACRED POEMS. 
 
 Like sweet incense round his presence rose the influence of 
 
 prayer ; 
 Where he came the rudest peasants seemed to breathe a purer 
 
 air, 
 And the palace owned a pleasance which by nature dwelt not 
 
 there. 
 So the sun at evening hour maketh every tongue confess, 
 Every spirit feel the power of its passing loveliness. 
 
 Hear the ending of the story : he had counted '' all things loss,'' 
 Had he not whereof to glory ? yea, but only in the Cross ! 
 Cross-wise, like the Saviour, lying, thinking of His dying day. 
 He endured the pains of dying thro' the Cross his only stay. 
 No vain-glorious ostentation, empty boast of fight unwon, 
 Marred his meek assimilation to the Everlasting Son : 
 But a holy patience ever growing as his pains increase, 
 Word, and look, and motion showing Jesus' never-failing Peace. 
 
 Surely 'twas no dream bewildering, but a heavenly vision fair. 
 Bright-robed groups of little children thronging round about 
 
 him there. 
 " Who are these ? " " Hast thou forgotten," Jesus answers, 
 
 " servant dear, 
 Whom in Me thou hast begotten, loved, and tended year by year? 
 These are they thro' tribulation whom thy gentle guidance led, 
 Now they take their willing station watching o'er thy dying bed, 
 Waiting to conduct thy spirit, when the weary body dies, 
 To the Rest that they inherit— Rest with Me in Paradise." 
 
A TRUE INCIDENT. 
 
 PASSED at eve the churchyard ground, 
 
 Where sleep the village dead, 
 And saw two children climb the bound 
 That guards each simple cross and mound 
 From wanton touch or tread. 
 
 They paused beside a new-made grave, 
 
 As if intent on play ; 
 And I, its sanctity to save. 
 Had raised a threatening arm to wave 
 
 The little ones away. 
 
 But when the elder maiden bent 
 
 And, kneeling, kissed the sod. 
 Remorseful on my way I went. 
 And for the little orphans sent 
 
 Heart-pleadings up to God. 
 
NATURE'S CATHEDRAL. 
 
 'This is none other than the House of God." 
 
 UR Father Jacob, fleeing from the rage 
 
 Of Esau and his fratricidal mood, 
 Halted at night beijeath the foliage 
 Of an outspreading wood. 
 
 'Twas holy ground ; for God the Architect 
 
 Had laid on teeming Nature His commands, 
 " For glory and fOr beauty " to erect 
 
 " A house not made with hands." 
 
 THE NAVE AND ARCHES. 
 
 So alttlond-trees, with branches interlaced, 
 Had built twelve arches exquisitely tall, 
 Enwreathed with pink-white blossoms, as if graced 
 For some high festival. 
 
NATURrS CATHEDRAL. 79 
 
 THE PILLARS. 
 
 They rest on living pillars, stems that stand 
 
 Front against front, to gleam and whiten soon, 
 Like granite columns fresh from sculptor hand, 
 Beneath the pendent moon. 
 
 THE FLOOR. 
 
 She, slowly climbing, polishes, where light 
 May pierce the roof of undulating shade, 
 A tesselated pavement, malachite 
 
 And marble white inlaid : 
 
 THE FONT. 
 
 And sparkles on a fountain farther west. 
 
 With basin lily-margined, and above 
 Circles with silver in sequestered nest 
 The iris of a dove. 
 
 ,THE SCREEN. 
 
 A branching vine, whose plumes of tender green 
 
 Bow lowlier as the west wind waxes higher, 
 Is interposing a transparent screen 
 
 Across the eastern choir ; 
 
 THE CRUCIFIX. 
 
 And twined around twin oaks on either side, 
 
 And hanging from their leafy arch o'erhead. 
 It holds on high, where Holy Rood should bide, 
 Five clusters ruby-red ; 
 
8o SACRED POEMS. 
 
 THE ALTAR AND FRONTAL. 
 
 And eastward stands the Altar, where a cleft 
 
 Distils sweet water, one primeval stone. 
 With velvet moss and parasital weft 
 
 Of wild flowers overgrown. 
 
 THE SERVICE. 
 
 Incense is here and music ; for the breeze 
 
 Is burdened with the breath of meadow bloom, 
 And swings the silver censers of the trees. 
 And scatters their perfume ; 
 
 THE CHORISTERS, 
 
 Then harmonized, among the foliage dim. 
 
 With bubbling fount and melody of birds. 
 It whispers to High Heaven a vesper hymn 
 That needs no human words. 
 
 THE SANCTUARY ROOF. 
 
 And over all a dome, divinely blent 
 
 With gold and azure, stretches up afar 
 The boundless concave of the firmament. 
 Enriched with many a star. 
 
 THE PRESENCE. 
 
 Lo ! from the zenith, brighter than the sun. 
 
 More tender than the moon's pale imagery. 
 More purple than the bow when day is done. 
 That paints the eastern sky, 
 
NATURE'S CATHEDRAL. 8i 
 
 A Radiance gorgeous, delicate, and warm 
 
 Streams down, as if the sun, the moon, the bow 
 Had each combined its own peculiar charm 
 In superhuman glow ! 
 
 O can it be a gleam of angel wings 
 
 Outspread in adoration o'er the shrine, 
 A living, heaven-high canopy, that brings 
 A glory so divine ? 
 
 It crimsons all the cleft within the Rock, 
 
 It turns to Blood the water where it ran, 
 It rests upon the lowly Altar-block, 
 Uniting God with man. 
 
 
HOPE. 
 
 ' I should utterly have fainted, but that I believe verily to see the 
 goodness of the Lord in the land of the living." — Ps. xxvii. 15. 
 
 EATH'S arrows around me are flying, 
 
 Death crumbles the earth that I tread, 
 
 While I speed through the Land of the Dying, 
 
 Passing on to the Land of the Dead — 
 
 The region of Darkness and Dread. 
 
 Some heav'n-kindled Thought of the Poet 
 
 From soul unto soul leapeth on, 
 But the heart that would triumph to know it, 
 
 Whence the lightning Promethean shone, 
 Is wasted with sorrow — and gone. 
 
 I stand where in arches monastic 
 ■ Religion still holdeth her own : 
 
 wise master builder — O plastic 
 Creator of Beauty from stone. 
 
 In the Crypt thou art lying alone. 
 
 While echoing Evensong lingers 
 In sadness, or swells into mirth ; 
 
 1 know that the brain, and the fingers, 
 That charmed the sweet strain to its birth. 
 
 Are nothing but ashes and earth. 
 
HOPE. 83 
 
 Where art thou, my brother brave-hearted ? 
 
 I yearn for the clasp of thy hand : 
 Alas ! for the day when we parted, 
 
 Alas ! for the Indian strand, 
 And the mound in the far-away land ! 
 
 Ah ! my spirit had utterly fainted, 
 
 Weighed down by the horror and gloom, 
 
 But that Hope,' like a flower untainted 
 By the sickening breath of the tomb. 
 Rose before me in beauty and bloom. 
 
 It enamelled the path of the weepers, 
 It illumined the grave's grassy mound. 
 
 It encircled the brow of the sleepers 
 As they slept in their beds under ground 
 That slumber so rigid and sound. 
 
 And it told of the Season appointed 
 And the Jubilee-trump to be blown. 
 
 When the King by His Father Anointed 
 Will sit on the Great White Throne, 
 And the Dead will come back to their own ; 
 
 Come back — and our eyes will behold them. 
 Our lost ones, the dearest and best ; 
 
 We shall hear their own voices, and fold then) 
 With laughter and tears to our breast — 
 O hasten — sweet Sabbath of Rest ! 
 
 ' " Hope, their unfading flower."— Christian Year 
 
84 SACRED POEMS. 
 
 Tho' we wept when we spake of that meeting 
 On the verge of Death's shadowy main, 
 
 'Twill but add " tender grace " to our greeting 
 On the shore, where remembrance of pain 
 Is like fragrance that foUoweth rain. 
 
 Then, brothers, do battle with sorrow, 
 
 How desolate ever your way, 
 The Night is far spent — and the morrow 
 
 Is tinging the orient grey 
 With glory which heralds the Day ! 
 
 Pressing onward thro' dead and thro' dying. 
 
 The living, the living are we ; 
 True pilgrims, our souls are relying 
 
 All the Love of our Father to see 
 Unveiled in our own countree. 
 
 And the hope of our Mansion Immortal 
 " In the Land of the Living" shall hold 
 
 Our souls undismayed, when the portal 
 Of iron shall slowly unfold : 
 We enter, and lo ! it is Gold. 
 
 All hail to thee ! mystical flower, 
 Best blossom of sorrow's dark rod. 
 
 Thou hast changed by celestial power 
 Each loathsome funereal sod 
 Into garden-ground blessfed of God ! 
 
THE POOR WISE MAN. 
 
 ECCLES. ix. 14, 15. 
 
 [ N ancient king, with a mighty power, 
 Assailed a city small, 
 And threatened with rampart and rival tower 
 The ill-defended wall :• 
 " Yield, and be slaves," his challenge ran. 
 Now there dwelt in the city a Poor Wise Man 
 
 This Poor Wise Man deliverance wrought, 
 
 Before their wondering eyes ; 
 He by His Wisdom to folly brought 
 
 The tactics of the wise ; 
 He vanquished the foe ; He broke the ban ! 
 O how will they honour this Poor Wise Man ? 
 
 For His naked Breast was their shield in the strife, 
 
 His Fearing calmed their fears ; 
 His Dying resummoned their dead to life ; 
 
 His Weeping wiped their tears ! 
 Thus courage accomplished Wisdom's plan : 
 O how will they honour this Poor Wise Man ? 
 
86 SACRED POEMS. 
 
 Alas, when the day of His death came round, 
 
 No eye with tears grew dim, 
 The citizens all their pleasure found : 
 
 Who cared to weep for Him ? 
 By road and by rail the people ran, 
 And none would remember that Poor Wise Man ! 
 
 Good Friday. 
 
THE PRODIGAL'S OMISSION. 
 
 " Make me as one of thy hired servants." 
 
 HE light within still faded, till I found 
 Among the loathsome swine my fitting seat, 
 
 And struggled with them on the miry ground 
 For trampled husks that I was fain to eat. 
 
 Then the scales fell ! I watched at break of day 
 The visions of my frenzied soul depart, 
 
 And, like a messenger from home, a ray 
 Of holy sunlight pleaded with my heart 
 
 And when I knew myself of such a sire 
 The darling son, companioning with swine, 
 
 I flung away the husks of base desire ; 
 
 Come life, or death, such food should not be mine. 
 
 I said, with breaking heart, " I will arise, 
 And stand, a beggar, at my father's door ; 
 
 It may be, when he sees my famished eyes. 
 He will not let me hunger any more. 
 
88 S ACHED POEMS. 
 
 " For he will call to mind a rosy face 
 That beamed a kindlier radiance, if he smiled, 
 
 When morn and eve I sought his calm embrace 
 An innocent and tender-hearted child. 
 
 " I will arise : — but, feed me though he may, 
 An honoured son I never more can be ; 
 
 ' I am not worthy, father,' I will say, 
 ' To be thy son, — but let me work for thee.' " 
 
 So I came home ; and fainting when I heard 
 My father's footstep, leant, I know not how. 
 
 Upon his bosom : and he spake no word. 
 But kissed my matted hair and heated brow. 
 
 " O father, mine has been a sinful part, 
 Unworthy of thy love," — thus far I said ; 
 
 But when I felt the yearning of his heart, 
 And his sweet blessing o'er my drooping head ; 
 
 I could not ask the servile hireling's lot. 
 So tender the forgiveness I had won ; 
 
 The thought conceived afar I uttered not. 
 
 But sobb'd, " My father," and he said, " My Son.'' 
 
FORGIVENESS. 
 
 A BALLAD. 
 
 READ those words again," he said, 
 
 And strangely moved was he ; 
 " Read them again, and when I'm dead, 
 On a wooden cross above my head 
 Engraven let them be." 
 
 " Father, forgive them," Jesus cried, 
 " They know not what they do " — 
 
 Into his Being they seem'd to glide, 
 A soul-refreshing dew. 
 
 He took his Bible from the shelf, 
 The print was pale with age, 
 
 And lo ! it opened of itself 
 Upon that very page. 
 
 And then I noticed that it bore 
 The marks of many years, 
 
 And that its lines were blotted o'er 
 With penitential tears. 
 
90 SACRED POEMS. 
 
 " I used to read the Book and pray ; 
 
 But now my eyes are dim, 
 I cannot read ; yet, night or day. 
 These sacred words I love to say. 
 
 Which brought my soul to Him. 
 
 " I fain would tell a history 
 Hath never yet been told ; 
 
 What profit if it lie with me 
 Forgotten 'neath the mould ? 
 
 " But if you write it when I'm gone 
 
 (I have n©t long to live). 
 It may subdue some heart of stone, 
 And humble it before His Throne, 
 And teach it to forgive. 
 
 " They say that scorn and hatred burn 
 Cain's mark upon the brow ! 
 
 I was not always sad and stern 
 As you behold me now. 
 
 " I used to toil from morn to night. 
 In a village near the sea ; 
 
 But I was strong, my heart was light, 
 And what was toil to me ? 
 
 " For tho' I lost my dear young wife 
 Full fourteen years before, 
 
 I had one child — my very life : 
 Her mother's name she bore, 
 
FORGIVENESS. 91 
 
 " And eyes, and hair, and voice ; and when 
 
 My Alice spake or smiled ; 
 It seemed the mother lived again 
 
 In this her only child. 
 
 " And rich and poor, and great and small. 
 
 Had some kind word for her ; 
 She tamed the rudest of them all. 
 
 She was so gentle, sir. 
 
 " The parson asked one day, and smiled. 
 
 What made my heart so light ; 
 I said it was my own sweet child, 
 With her sunny hair, and her voice so mild. 
 
 And her laugh so merry and bright. 
 
 " My comrades oft agreed to roam 
 
 To fair or revelry ; 
 I told them I had one at home 
 
 Was waiting then for me. 
 Waiting to pour, when I should come, 
 
 The cup of fragrant tea. 
 
 " How bright the winter logs would burn, 
 
 While we in chimney-nook. 
 Together verse and verse in turn 
 
 Read chapters from the Book. 
 
 " I would at church, among the choir, 
 
 You, sir, had heard her voice, 
 Had heard her chant with holy fire 
 Or swell the solemn anthem higher ; 
 
 It made my soul rejoice ! 
 
92 SACRED POEMS. 
 
 " Ah ! now sometimes at midnight dreary, 
 
 A voice and tone I know, 
 The waiUng of a miserere 
 
 Around the house doth go ; 
 
 " And then I pray for Christ's dear grace 
 
 That she will come to me. 
 And leaye her quiet resting-place 
 
 In the churchyard by the sea, 
 That ere I die her angel face 
 
 These aged eyes may see. 
 
 " My words are wild : good sir, forgive 
 A father's maddening pain, 
 
 My sufferings, I do believe, 
 
 Have somewhat warped my brain. 
 
 And in telling the tale I seem to live 
 The dear old life again. 
 
 "A shipwreck ! 'Midst the tempest's breath 
 The life-boat cleaves the wave ; 
 
 Our hearts are stout, but scarce from death 
 One single soul we save. 
 
 " I rescued one from surges rude 
 
 (For I could dive and swim) ; 
 I brought him home, and warmed his blood, 
 
 And chafed the deadened limb ; 
 Ah ! well he paid for the shelter and food 
 
 Which I bestowed on him ! 
 
FORGIVENESS. 93 
 
 " He lived ; and still he lingered by 
 
 Our cottage near the sea ; 
 His gentle speech, and bearing high, 
 
 Soon won my child and me. 
 
 " And oft at eve upon the sands, 
 
 While Alice walked between. 
 He told us tales of foreign lands, 
 
 And marvels he had seen. 
 Of pirate-hordes and robber-bands ; 
 And showed upon his head and hands 
 
 Where sabre-cuts had been. 
 
 "My work was done : I sought my cot. 
 The hearth was cold and bare ! 
 
 ' Why, Alice dear, have you forgot ' 
 
 But Alice was not there. 
 
 " I drove the shuddering fear away, 
 And soon the bright blaze shone ; 
 
 I listened — then aloud did say, 
 ' She's to the village gone : 
 
 She found the sun too hot to-day, r 
 She will be here anon.' 
 
 " And then the fear returned again, 
 
 ' She's gone for evermore ! ' 
 I went and looked along the lane 
 
 Which passed our cottage door. 
 
94 SACRED POEMS. 
 
 " I could not sit — I could not wait — 
 My heart beat fast with woe : 
 
 I hastened through the garden-gate : 
 ' I'll to the village go 
 
 And bring her home — it grows quite late. 
 Where can she linger so ? ' 
 
 " I walked at first : my steps grew fast — 
 
 I ran with all my might, 
 And prayed, at every turn I past, 
 
 That she might come in sight. 
 The shops' reflecting panes at last 
 
 Showed that my face was white. 
 
 " She had not been there all that day, 
 
 I listened with a groan ; 
 ' The Stranger ? ' I found heart to say — 
 
 The Stranger, too, was gone. 
 O sir, I weep, as well I may. 
 
 But then my heart was stone. 
 
 " I hastened home in wild despair. 
 And knew not how nor why ; 
 
 The neighbours all were gathered there. 
 And not a cheek was dry : 
 
 But I could only stand and glare 
 With red and tearless eye. 
 
 " O sir, that night — that fearful night ! 
 
 I wandered to and fro, 
 And up and down, hke troubled sprite, 
 
 Up-stairs and down below. 
 
FORGIVENESS. 95 
 
 " Pacing ever up and down, 
 
 And pacing to and fro, 
 With fiendish thoughts, and never a h'ght 
 
 From Heav'n to soothe my woe. 
 
 "And then I vowed a wicked vow, 
 
 May the good Lord forgive ! 
 With such a heart I marvel how 
 
 He suffered me to live. 
 
 " I vowed to slay him and his race 
 
 (It shames my tongue to tell), 
 Or at the Judgment face to face 
 To cast him out of Heaven's grace 
 
 And drag him down to hell. 
 
 " And then I recollect no more : 
 
 They tell me I was mad, 
 And wandering along the shore. 
 
 With all the strength I had, 
 Cried ' Alice ! Alice ! ' evermore 
 
 In tones now fierce, now sad. 
 
 " And when I next awoke to sense. 
 
 Within a gloomy cell 
 I lay, in shackled impotence, 
 
 With chain and manacle. 
 
 " And one, an aged priest, was there 
 
 With peaceful holy look. 
 And in his hand, O sir, he bare 
 
 My own — this very Book 
 Which I so often read with her 
 
 Within the chimney-nook. 
 
96 SACRED POEMS. 
 
 " I snatched the book and read straightway 
 
 With dark remorseless eye 
 The story of the Judgment-day, 
 And what the Almighty King will say 
 
 To souls condemned to die. 
 
 " But when I closed the book again 
 And looked at him once more, 
 
 I saw a cloud of grief and pain 
 I had not seen before. 
 
 " He took my hand : ' Poor man, poor man, 
 
 Thy hair has turned to grey ; 
 Thy form is bent, thy cheek is wan .; 
 
 Oh, cast such thoughts away ! 
 Extend forgiveness while you can. 
 
 And seek it while you may.' 
 
 " I said : ' The soul is stern and strong 
 
 Tho' flesh and blood decay, 
 I never wi7I forgive that wrong — 
 How long, O Righteous God, how long 
 Before the Judgment-day ? ' 
 
 " He gently took the Book, and then 
 (God bless him evermore ! ) 
 
 He read about the Nazarene, 
 And all the woe He bore. 
 
 For us the sinful sons of men, 
 On Palestina's shore. 
 
FORGIVENESS. 97 
 
 " How on His guiltless head was laid 
 
 The guilt of such as I j 
 How coward dread of sufifering made 
 
 His dearest friends deny ; 
 How one who ate of His own Bread, 
 For gain his loving Lord betrayed, 
 
 And gave Him up to die ; 
 
 " And how when He was crucified, 
 His feet and hands pierced thro', 
 
 He in the midst — on either side 
 The malefactors two — 
 
 ' Father, forgive them,' Jesus cried, 
 ' They know not what they do.' 
 
 ' Victorious Cross ! thy making power 
 
 Took my hard heart away. 
 I knelt upon the dungeon floor, 
 
 And I could weep send pray — 
 I prayed for Aim — O blessed hour, 
 I had never shed one tear before, 
 
 Since Alice went away ! 
 
 " Another fortnight, and I stood 
 
 A broken man— but free ; 
 And wandered back in lowly mood 
 
 To my cottage near the sea. 
 I said, ' The Lord is very good : 
 
 She may come back to me ! ' 
 
 " And, sir, she came one stormy night : 
 
 I started up and said. 
 Her featutes were so ghastly white, 
 
 ' O Alice, thou art dead.' 
 8 
 
98 SACRED POEMS. 
 
 "She was no ghost, — I heard her speak 
 
 Amid the tempest's din ; 
 ' Father,' she said, in accents weak, 
 With quivering lip and pallid cheek, 
 
 ' Dear father, take me in.' 
 
 " 'Alice ! thank God, that thou art come. 
 That thou art come at last ; 
 
 I've waited for thee, dear, at home, 
 Well-nigh this twelvemonth past ! 
 
 O say thou never again wilt roam : ' 
 In my arras I held her fast. 
 
 " ' See — every night, my wandering lamb, 
 
 I set thy cup for thee. 
 Thy cup and chair — the very same, 
 
 Just where it used to be. 
 
 " ' My precious child — O do not weep ! 
 
 The past — ^nay, let it go ! 
 Let it lie buried fathom-deep 
 
 With all its weight of woe. 
 
 "Yes — yes, I suffered for a while ; 
 
 Thou too hast borne much pain. 
 Hush, darling, let me see the smile — 
 
 All will be well again.' 
 
 " She smiled. Ah 1 not the smile of old- 
 
 But thro' my heart it went, 
 As plain as if her tongue had told — 
 
 I constmed all it meant ! 
 
FORGIVENESS. 99 
 
 " Dread confirmation of the fear 
 
 I read in cheek and eye : 
 She had not long to tarry here, 
 
 She sought a place to die ! 
 
 " That night I watched beside her bed 
 
 The while my darling slept, 
 And bowed the knee and worshipped 
 And prayed for pardon on her head, 
 ' 'Tis better — better so,' I said. 
 
 And thanked my God, and wept 
 
 " Again within the chimney-nook, 
 
 Reclining day by day, 
 She used to read this Holy Book — 
 
 .To read the Book and pray. 
 
 " To read about the Magdalene, 
 
 Her tearful, loving woe. 
 And how the scarlet of her sin 
 
 Became as white as snow. 
 
 " Like little child she all one day 
 
 Had sat upon my knee ; 
 Had said she thought she heard Him say, 
 
 ' Lo ! I have pardoned thee.' 
 Her head upon my bosom lay. 
 And so her spirit passed away — 
 
 She passed away from me. 
 
 " The linnet had not built its nest 
 
 When she came back to me. 
 She had white roses on her breast 
 When we laid her in her lowly rest, 
 
 In the churchyard near the sea." 
 8 * 
 
THE SEVEN STARS. 
 
 ' He had in his right hand seven sis!s.''^Apocalypse i. i6. 
 
 VISION of sweet comfort sent from heaven 
 Entranced the spirit of the Evangelist, 
 Who saw the Angels of the Churches seven 
 Like Pleiads glitter in the Hand of Christ ! 
 
 From that High Seat of safety and of glory — 
 The fostering Hand of Jesus throned above — 
 'Tis theirs to utter Calvary's wonder-story, 
 And show the bleeding Stigma of His love ; 
 
 To sound, like heralds, from their vantage station 
 Where War extends his desolating rod, 
 Where peoples join in peaceful federation, 
 " The glory" and " the handiwork " of God.* 
 
 Shine on ! with changeless light the faithful guiding 
 Thro' blinding mists that flit athwirt the land, 
 List to no tempter— fear no foeman's chiding ; 
 So none shall pluck you from that sheltering Hand ! f 
 
 • Ps. xix. I, 4. t St. John x. 28. 
 
THE SEVEN STARS. loi 
 
 None, save yout own base will — if haply scorning 
 The hidden glories of your high estate, 
 Ye sully, like th' apostate son of Morning,* 
 The fires of heaven with flames of lust and hate. 
 
 Wait, watch, illume ! nor deem your mission ended, 
 Till gilding all the azure of your night,t 
 The Day breaks — and your lesser rays are blended 
 And lost in streams of Uncreated Light. 
 
 Then the fair| Moon and all her stars shall render 
 Eternal homage to their Central Sun, 
 And glow with sheen more radiant and tender, * 
 Reflected from the happy souls they § won. 
 
 * Is. xiv. 12. + Gen. i. i6. % Cant. vi. lo. § Dan. xii. 3. 
 
NIGHT THOUGHTS. 
 
 HEN Evensong was ended, 
 
 And sermon and hymn were o'er, 
 The priest was hastening homeward 
 Across the darkened moor ; 
 
 From the Mission Chapel homeward : 
 But his heart was heavy as lead, 
 
 For the bark of the Puritan ban-dog 
 Had scattered the flock that he fed. 
 
 For years he had striven to win them 
 To reverence, faith, and prayer ; 
 
 But the Popery-tocsin had sounded, 
 And the seats ot his Chapel were bare. 
 
 So his heart was heavy within him, 
 
 By anger and pity tossed. 
 And he turned to his God, like Elias, 
 
 And mourned for his labour lost. 
 
NIGHT THOUGHTS. 103 
 
 And marvelled that God Almighty 
 Spake not from yon cloudy throne, 
 
 To silence the mad blasphemer, 
 And comfort the souls of his own. 
 
 So he gazed on the eastern horizon, 
 
 And straightway saw uprise, 
 Like a lurid orb of crimson. 
 
 Suspended from the skies, 
 
 The moon — a blood-red portent ! 
 
 And he cried in ecstatic mood ; 
 " The sun is turned into darkness, 
 
 The moon is turned into blood ! " 
 
 Thus flashed from the height of heaven. 
 
 That old prophetic scroll 
 Was blazoned by angel fingers 
 
 On the wall of his inmost soul : 
 
 And he read the interpretation, 
 
 And knew that it was sent, 
 A token from God his Saviour, 
 
 To rebuke his discontent. 
 
 " Thou art the Sun, O Master, 
 
 And Thine the Beauty and Glow ; 
 The moon, with a borrowed radiance. 
 
 Is the sign of Thy Church below. 
 
 " Our Sun was turned into darkness, 
 
 And straightway from the Rood 
 Marched forth the army of Martyrs — 
 
 The Moon was turned into blood. 
 
104 SACRED POEMS. 
 
 " And now once more the gloaming 
 
 Of unbelief is begun ; 
 And human imaginations 
 
 Are quenching the Light of out Sun. 
 
 " The Light that enlighteneth all men 
 Is shrouded with impious scoff; 
 
 So their light is turned into darkness, 
 And great is the darkness thereof ; 
 
 " What marvel, when Jesu's Glory 
 Is scorned and rejected again, 
 
 If the band of His faithful servants 
 Be evil-entreated and slaiii ? 
 
 " They are coming — they are coming— 
 
 Those anti-Christian days, 
 When the snow-white chrism must redden 
 
 In persecution's blaze ; 
 
 "And once more, ere the .^on closes, . 
 
 Will Joel's word hold good, 
 ' Tiie sun shall be turned into darkness. 
 
 And the moon shall be turned into blood.' 
 
THE LAST WORDS OF DAVID. 
 
 A PARAPHRASE OF ^ SAM. xxiii. 1-5. 
 
 ) HESE are the last words of David : this is the 
 last of his lays ; 
 Ere the music ceased for ever, ere the harp 
 from his fingers fell ; 
 David the son of Jesse, whom Heaven delighted to raise, 
 David, Jehovah's Anointed, sweet singer of Israel. 
 
 In the passionless calm of dying, as I turn my face to 
 the wall, 
 The scenes of my life are repeated, and the many 
 songs I sung ; 
 And I marvel at so much mercy, for even after my fall 
 " The Spirit of God spake by me, His Word was in my 
 tongue." ' 
 
 I see a rock in the desert, and sheep reposing around. 
 And myself an innocent stripling, reclining beneath the 
 shade ; 
 
io6 SACRED POEMS. 
 
 Hush ! 'tis the olden warnLog : there is thunder in the 
 sound ; 
 But that is only the echo my sinful life has made. 
 
 The Voice, as in youth I heard It, was awful, but very 
 sweet. 
 Not to be heard with the ear, but like a pulsation 
 within : 
 " He that ruleth a kingdom, and sits on the judgment-seat. 
 Must rule iti the fear of Jehovah, abhorring injustice 
 and sill. 
 
 And lie shall be bright as the morning that looks from the 
 Eastern hill, 
 Cloudless, andchaseth the Jlying shadows across the plain : 
 And His presence like tlie odours that breathing flowers 
 distil. 
 When the tender grass- spires glisten in sunshine after the 
 rain." 
 
 But the warning was all unheeded ; the glory can never 
 
 be mine ; 
 
 I and my house have sinned : I am neither pure nor 
 
 just; 
 
 My life was lurid and stormy, and cloudy my life's decline, 
 
 O lay me low, my children, and let me die in the dust. 
 
 And yet I trust I'm forgiven, and the Covenant standeth 
 fast ; 
 " Thy Throne shall endure for ever, 2hy Sceptre shall 
 not depart:" 
 
THE LAST WORDS OF DAVID. 107 
 
 What this may mean I know not, but He will fulfil it at 
 last, 
 And the yearning anticipation upholdeth my failing 
 heart. 
 
 Through the vista of years I see Him, my Saviour and 
 yet my Son, 
 And the snow of his vesture is sullied by never a guilty 
 stain ; 
 Like dawn outspread on the mountains, He reigneth the 
 Peerless One, 
 And His grace illumines the nations like sunshine after 
 the rain. 
 
A CHILD'S QUESTIONS. 
 
 ' ABUT NON OBIIT : PR^IIT NON PERIIT, ' 
 
 ERE, mother, let us take our seat. 
 
 This sunny mom in May. 
 I love to hear the lambkins bleat. 
 And watch them at their play. 
 
 " And will they always gambol so, 
 
 And always leap and run, 
 With fleece that shines like winter snow 
 
 Beneath the happy sun ? 
 
 " They seem to talk in varied tone 
 
 Of question or command ; 
 Have they a language of their own 
 
 I cannot understand ? 
 
 " That pretty lamb, how sportively 
 
 It seeks its parent ewe ; 
 I wbnder if it feels what I, 
 
 Dear mother, feel for you ? 
 
A CHILD S QUESTIONS. 109 
 
 " The shepherd now, with crook in hand, 
 
 Is opening yonder door ; 
 It leads into a pasturp-land 
 
 I never saw before. 
 
 " How smooth those upland meadqws seem ! 
 
 How sweet the scent of limes ! 
 'Tis very like a golden dream 
 
 That comes to me sometimes. 
 
 " What mass of bloom those chestnuts show, 
 
 The joy of humming bees ; 
 What coqling breezes seetp to go 
 
 Athwart the waving trees. 
 
 " What silver brooklets fertilise 
 
 The green untrodden grass, 
 And soften with prismatic dyes 
 
 The sunbeams as they pass. 
 
 " 'rhe merry birds are carolling 
 
 Among those bowers of bliss ; 
 Oh, mother, when the angels sing, 
 
 Is it more sweet than this ? 
 
 " Right glad the woolly flock will be 
 
 To pass that iron gate ; 
 These lower slopes seem dull to me. 
 
 And almost desolate. 
 
 " But see, the sheep are all afraid ; 
 
 They crowd with anxious look, 
 And strive on all sides to evade 
 
 The shepherd's gentle crook. 
 
SACRED POEMS: 
 
 " Could they but view those happy fields, 
 
 And hear the waters glide, 
 Such joys that bright enclosure yields, 
 
 They could not turn aside. 
 
 "At length they enter, and are hid : 
 
 Already some are gone : 
 Why, mother, does the Shepherd bid 
 
 Them pass the gate alone ? 
 
 " See what a little lamb comes next ! 
 
 But he is forced to go : 
 The ' mother sheep ' looks sore perplext, 
 
 And rushes to and fro. 
 
 " Then others quickly come between. 
 And while she stands in doubt, 
 
 Her little laub is no more seen. 
 And she is left without 
 
 " Poor mother sheep ! I hear her voice 
 
 Of lamentation rise ; 
 How can her litde one rejoice 
 
 If he can hear her cries ? 
 
 " But wherefore comes he not again 
 Through that mysterious door, 
 
 To soothe his bleating mother's pain. 
 And bid her weep no more ? 
 
 " Oh, can it be his brighter lot 
 
 So occupies his mind 
 That he, alas ! remembers not 
 
 The dam he left behind ? 
 
A CHILD S QUESTIONS. 
 
 " Dear mother, should /chance to come, 
 While you were forced to stay. 
 
 To such a new and happy home, 
 I could not laugh or play ; 
 
 " I could not, like that silly sheep, 
 
 Bird, brook, or flower enjoy. 
 For I should hear my mother weep. 
 
 Lamenting for her boy. 
 
 " And I would ask that Shepherd true, 
 
 So gentle he appears, 
 To ope' the gate and let me through, 
 
 To wipe my mother's tears." 
 
 Alas, before a single week 
 
 Fulfilled its rapid round. 
 The Shepherd called that child to seek 
 
 The higher pasture-ground. 
 
 He vanished from his mother's sight, 
 
 Her hope for future years, 
 And many a weary, weary night 
 
 Her couch was wet with tears. 
 
 But never more, ah, never more. 
 
 She saw by night or day, 
 Her pretty one repass that door, 
 
 To wipe her tears away. 
 
THE VIRTUOUS WOMAN. 
 
 PROV. XXXI. 
 
 ISE the Saws and full of meaning, Saws remem- 
 bered long and well, 
 Which his mother, sage in maxims, spake unto 
 King Lemuel. 
 
 12. 
 
 IS- 
 17- 
 
 26. 
 
 27. 
 
 Who can find a virtuous woman, he has won a priceless gem, 
 
 Richer than the glowing rubies in a monarch's diadem ! 
 
 For her husband's heart may trust her, that, eschewing wordy 
 
 strife, 
 She will be a faithful partner and the blessing of his life. 
 In the dawning, ere the busy sun hath risen, riseth she, 
 Strength for girdle claspeth round her, and for bracelets Industry ; 
 Then she dealeth equal portions, doles of corn and wine and oil 
 To her servants and her maidens, and to all their daily toil ; 
 Words of wisdom, words of kindness flow like honey from her 
 
 tongue. 
 While she watches well her household, checking idleness and 
 
 wrong. 
 
THE VIRTUOUS WOMAN. 113 
 
 1 3. Wool she cardeth, flax she spinneth, working deftly with her hands ; 
 
 14. Seeketh, like a stately vessel, sustenance from distant lands ; 
 16. Reapeth fruit of all her labours ; in her wisdom buys a field, 
 
 And at harvest plucks the clusters which her ample vineyards yield. 
 
 18. Thus rejoicing in her bargain she re-seeks her secret bower ; 
 
 1 9. Plies the spindle, plies the distaff, trims the lamp at midnight hour, 
 
 20. Weaving garments for the naked, and the needy on her lands ; 
 Warming weary hearts with comfort when she stretcheth forth her 
 
 hands ; 
 
 21. Thread she twines with nimble fingers, knitting coats and scarlet 
 
 hose. 
 Meet protection for her household ere the fall of winter snows ; 
 
 23. For her husband noble raiment, costly ornaments of state, 
 Praised by all men when he sitteth with his equals in the gate ; 
 
 24. Ever and anon she frameth girdles of a rich device. 
 Many-folded, and of linen rare and precious merchandise ; 
 
 22. For herself embroidered garments wrought in purflM tapestry. 
 Eastern silk and Tyrian purple, pleasing to her husband's eye ; 
 
 25. But a fairer grace than raiment clothes her now and evermore. 
 Loving wife, discerning mistress, fostering mother of the poor ! 
 
 28. Lo ! her children call her blessfed, moulded by her blameless life, 
 And her husband's spirit glories in his true and faithful wife : 
 
 29. Saying : "Many other daughters wise and virtuous stand confest, 
 Thou beyond all other women art most virtuous, wisest, best ! 
 
 30. Favour is a faithless dower. Beauty fadeth soon away ; 
 Holy women, wives and mothers, who are magnified as they ? 
 
 31. All thy handiwork remaining shall perpetuate the fame 
 
 Of ' the Good and Virtuous Woman' — this thine everlasting name." 
 
THE ANGELS' TALE. 
 
 A BALLAD. 
 
 PART I. — SELF-WILL. 
 " We know not what we should pray for." 
 
 YING she lay, passing away 
 
 With the passing of the night : 
 Angels three, waiting were we 
 To carry her soul to the Light. 
 
 At the foot, at the head of her little bed 
 
 We listened for the token, 
 The word of release, " Depart in peace," 
 
 By the Mouth of God to be spoken. 
 
 Dreamily smiled the dying child, 
 
 For her eyes were open to see 
 Three angels of love bending down from above, 
 
 And cheerily back smiled we ; 
 
THE ANGELS' TALE. 115 
 
 And we soothed her pain with a sweet refrain 
 
 From the children's Paradise. 
 But her mother knelt there : it was hard to bear 
 
 The passionate gleam of her eyes ! 
 
 Worn were her knees with litanies, 
 
 And still she wrestled on, 
 All night, all day, she would pray, pray, pray, 
 
 With never, "Thy will be done." 
 
 Now shrill and high in her agony, 
 
 And now in an undertone, 
 " Great God, spare, spare ; " till the dread despair 
 
 Of her cry went up to the Throne. 
 
 For the Master knows all human woes 
 
 And the anguish of every tear. 
 And He thought of His prayer in the garden there, 
 
 And His sorrowful mother so dear. 
 
 And ere long we heard His pitying Word 
 
 Soft as the snow-flakes fall. 
 While we bowed to the ground at the solemn sound. 
 
 At the voice of the Lord of All. 
 
 " Fond heart, believe Me ; 
 
 Wild heart, be still ; 
 Trust Me a little. 
 
 Yield to My wilL 
 Lend Me thy sweet one. 
 
 My Love is best j 
 Think of her bright home, 
 ' Think of her rest. 
 
1 1 6 SA CRED POEMS. 
 
 Dark though the world be, 
 
 Love rules on high ; 
 Whoso believeth 
 
 Never shall die." 
 
 For a little space at the message of Grace 
 She wept — her brow grew mild : 
 
 Till again she gazed on the film that glazed 
 The sweet blue eyes of her child. 
 
 Ah, then once more on the chamber floor 
 She urged her rebellious prayer, 
 
 Till we shuddered again at the wild refrain, 
 " Spare her, Great God, O spare ! 
 
 " Let come what will — be it good, be it ill — 
 
 For the sake of Thy dear Son, 
 Save, O save, from the cold damp grave, 
 
 My darling — my only one ! " 
 
 The death-film fell from the sweet, blue eyes, 
 
 The glory fled from the morning skies, 
 
 Closed were the portals of Paradise. 
 
 And then a Voice — the Voice we know — 
 
 A voice of pity, a wail of woe : 
 
 " Ascend, and leave the babe below." 
 
 PART II. — "THY WILL BE DONE." 
 
 Pure was the rime of her childhood's prime, 
 And angels came down to bless her ; 
 
 But it melted away when the garish day 
 Of pleasure began to caress her. 
 
THE ANGELS' TALE. 117 
 
 Her beauty so bright to the outward sight 
 
 Was the mask of dissembled sin ; 
 A sepulchre fair, but the dead was there, 
 
 And the slime of the serpent within. 
 
 We welcome home manj^ souls that roam 
 
 When the signal is past to rejoice ; 
 And right gladly we bring the best robe and the ring 
 
 At the sound of the pardoning Voice. 
 
 But no warrant is given to the choirs of heaven 
 
 To waken their harps of gold 
 For one who is scorning the Shepherd's warning 
 
 Afar from the heavenly fold. 
 
 See where she lies with hard cold eyes. 
 
 Her life-sand is well-nigh run. 
 Yet never a prayer will tremble there 
 
 On the lips of the sinful one. 
 
 " Cease, mother, to read what I cannot heed. 
 
 The story you taught me before. 
 If a heaven there be, it is shut against me, 
 
 For ever and evermore. 
 
 " Twin shapes of dread lurk round my bed, 
 
 No guardian angels they. 
 But spirits unblest to realms of unrest 
 
 Impatient to drag me away." 
 
 Less bitter the moan of Rachel ' lone 
 
 Bewailing her infants slain ; 
 Or the cry that sped from the sackcloth-bed 
 
 Of Rizpah '' over the plain, 
 
 'Jer. xxxi. 15, =2 Sam. .\xi. 10. 
 
ii8 SACKED POEMS. 
 
 When pitying night had hid the sight 
 
 Of gibbet and of chain, 
 The vile disgrace of the royal race, 
 
 And her murdered offspring twain. 
 
 Less cruel the throe of ^gyptia's ' woe 
 When her firstiing bloom lay dead. 
 
 Than the poison smart of remorse in the heart 
 Of the reader beside that bed. 
 
 " Ah, selfish heart that would not part 
 
 With its idol at Mercy's call ! 
 Ah, faithless fear that bound her here 
 
 To sin, and suffer, and fall ! 
 
 " Would God she had died ere she sipped the tide 
 
 Of passion's poisoned water ; 
 And now that I in her place might die — 
 
 My daughter — O my daughter ! " 
 
 No hope ? O Thou all-pitying Son, 
 Boundless the Grace Thy Blood has won : 
 Thy Will is Love : Thy Will be done ! 
 
 ' Exod. xii. 30. 
 
RUTH. 
 
 A SACRED IDYLL OF HARVEST-TIDE. 
 
 " Ruth amid the golden corn." — ^Lokgfkllow. 
 
 "She broke out in praise 
 "To God who helped her in her widowhood." 
 
 Tennyson. 
 
 I. 
 
 N the great famine, when the Judges ruled, 
 A man of Bethlehem-judah left the land, 
 Impatient of the drought, — Elimelech, 
 He with his wife, Naomi, and two sons, 
 Mahlon and Chilion, — and long sojourned 
 In Moab, where he died ; and then the lads 
 Took wives of Moab's daughters : Orpah one. 
 The other Ruth. Soon after they too died ; 
 And thus Naomi stood bereft of all, — 
 Husband and children gone. Then she arose 
 To leave the land of Moab, and to seek 
 Her native fields again, and issued forth, 
 The women with her, one on either hand. 
 Some way they walked in silence ; then she paused, 
 
SACRED POEMS. 
 
 And said : " For me ye shall not leave your kin ; 
 Let each find shelter in her mother's home ; 
 And Israel's God deal kindly with you both, 
 As ye have dealt with me and with the dead. 
 For you a brighter future yet may smile, 
 And little children play around your knees : 
 Farewell, I go alone : the hand of God 
 Is raised against me.'' 
 
 Thus she spake, and kissed 
 Both Ruth and Orpah, and the women three 
 Wept long together, thinking of the dead. 
 
 Then Orpah, after much entreaty, kissed 
 Naomi once again, and so went back 
 To Moab, and her parents and their gods ; 
 But Ruth clave to her, and with claspfed hands, 
 " Entreat me not," she cried, " to go away 
 And leave thee in thy lonely widowhood : 
 For whither thou art going, I will go ; 
 And where thou lodgest, there I too will lodge ; 
 Thy people shall be mine ; thy God my God ; 
 And where at length thou diest, I will die. 
 And share one grave, mingling my dust with thine. 
 The Lord do so to me, and more — yea, add 
 Woe unto woe — if any hand but Death's 
 Shall pluck me from thee." Thus did Ruth prevail. 
 
 So they two went together, till they came 
 To Bethlehem, Naomi's ancient home. 
 But lo ! they ^new her not, so bowed her form, 
 Her face so seamed with trouble ; and they said, 
 In pity and amazement, " Is it she ? — 
 
RUTH. 12 
 
 Is this Naomi ? " whispering as she passed. 
 
 She raised her head, and said : " Ah, call me not 
 
 Naomi (which is pleasant), O my friends, 
 
 But call me Mara (bitter) ; for the Lord 
 
 Hath made me drink a cup of bitterness. 
 
 I wandered forth when all the fields were bare, 
 
 But I was rich in husband and in sons ; 
 
 Now I return, the land with harvest smiles. 
 
 And I alone am like a barren field." 
 
 II. 
 
 So Ruth the Moabitess comforted 
 The sorrowing widow in her low estate. 
 And when their store was failing fast, she said : 
 " It is the time of harvest : let me go 
 And glean the ears of corn where I may find 
 Some gentle heart that will not say me nay." 
 And when Naomi gave her leave she went. 
 And knowing not the law of Love Divine 
 That Moses gave, " Let no man glean his field, 
 But leave it for the stranger and the poor," 
 She begged of favour what was hers of right, 
 And gleaned among the sheaves from dewy morn 
 Till the hot sun rode monarch of the sky, 
 Following the reapers ; then a little space 
 She rested in the tent ; but soon again 
 Went forth to glean,r until the noontide sun 
 Beheld her bending still among the sheaves ; 
 Nor knew she that the owner of the field 
 Was Boaz, kinsman of Elimelech, 
 A mighty roan of substance in the land. 
 
SACRED POEMS. 
 
 Before mid-day he came from Bethlehem, 
 And stood among his reapers while they reaped, 
 And said, " The Lord be with you ! " One and all 
 Gave him obeisance meet (for courtesy 
 Meets with its like), and bade God bless him too. 
 Then seeing Ruth, he asked, " Whose damsel this ? " 
 And soon a servant told him all he knew : 
 " That this was Ruth, the Moabitish girl. 
 Who for Naomi's sake had left her home ; 
 How, knowing not the gleaner's privilege. 
 She humbly begged to glean among the sheaves ; 
 And how from early morn, with diligence 
 Following the reapers, she had toiled till then. 
 Save that erewhile she sought beneath the tent 
 Some brief repose, but only to renew 
 Her pious toil, until the noontide sun 
 Had found her bending still among the sheaves." 
 He went and stood beside her, and his heart 
 Yearned for his kindred, while he kindly said : 
 " Hear me, my daughter : Go not from my field. 
 But follow still my maidens where they reap. 
 Fear not my young men, for I charge them now 
 That they forbear by rude licentious mirth 
 To vex thy gentle spirit. Go not hence : 
 And when the noontide sun shall parch thy brow. 
 Go quaff the cooling draught my reapers share.'' 
 
 But she, confounded at the kindly tone 
 (For strangers hear few words of gentleness). 
 Fell down in grateful homage at his feet. 
 Her country's custom ; then, with faltering breath, 
 " Wherefore, my lord, such favour shown to me, 
 A stranger woman, and in face and speech 
 
RUIH. ia3 
 
 Unlike the maids of favoured Israel ? " 
 
 "No stranger, Ruth," he said, "for well I know 
 
 Thy kindness to Naomi since the day 
 
 Thy husband died, and how for love of her. 
 
 Leaving thy father and thy mother and 
 
 Thy native country, thou art -come to us, 
 
 A people all unknown to thee before. 
 
 The Lord, beneath Whose wings, abandoning 
 
 The gods of Moab, thou hast fled for aid. 
 
 Requite thy piety a hundredfold." 
 
 And then in courteous phrase he bade her sit 
 
 1' the midst, and share the harvesters' repast. 
 
 And gave her parchfed corn and homely wine. 
 
 An honourable portion ; so she ate 
 
 And drank, then rose to glean again till dusk, 
 
 CJathering great spoils of bearded barley-ears, 
 
 For Boaz bade his servants go by stealth. 
 
 And scatter, where the damsel's eye would light, 
 
 Large handfuls taken from the bursting sheaves. 
 
 And when the night-cloud fell she threshed it out. 
 
 And found that she had gathered grain enough 
 
 To furnish forth their frugal board with bread 
 
 For five whole days : thus God had prospered her. 
 
 Then scarcely bending 'neath the lightened load. 
 With steps responsive to her joyful heart, 
 She glided homeward through the darkening streets. 
 And when Naomi poured upon the floor 
 The heap of grain, and knew that she had wrought 
 In Boaz' field, she gave loud thanks to God, 
 And blessed the man who had compassion on 
 The living, and showed kindness to the dead. 
 " The man is near of kin to us," she said, 
 
124 SACRED POEMS. 
 
 " One of the twain that may redeem our land." 
 Then answered Ruth : " Moreover, he enjoined 
 That I should gather daily doles of grain, 
 Following his reapers, till the fields are reaped 
 And all the harvest garnered." She replied, 
 "'Tis well, my daughter; what he bade thee, do." 
 
 So while the pale gold plots of barley fell, 
 And while the sickle glittered in the wheat. 
 The Moabitess gleaned among the sheaves, 
 Following the reapers till the fields were reaped 
 And all the harvest safely gathered in. 
 
 III. 
 
 There was an ancient law in Israel, 
 
 If one died childless, that his next of kin 
 
 Should take the widow and preserve his name ; 
 
 And if the heritage were pledged or sold. 
 
 He should redeem it : this Naomi knew, 
 
 And, harvest ended, calling Ruth, she said : 
 
 " My daughter, shall I hug a bootless grief, 
 
 Nor care to find a peaceful home for thee ? 
 
 That were an ill requital of thy love ; 
 
 Do therefore my behest Thou knowest well 
 
 That Boaz is our kinsman, and should do 
 
 A kinsman's part to thee and to the dead. 
 
 To-night he winnoweth barley in the barn ; 
 
 Go, therefore : bide the time : and when his heart 
 
 Is merry, gazing on the heaps of corn, 
 
 And he has risen sated from the feast 
 
 To seek repose, approach, and lay thee down 
 
 In silence at his feet, and wait the end," 
 
RUTH. 125 
 
 But Ruth was inly troubled, and her blood 
 Soon startled from its even flow by dread 
 Of doing aught unwomanly, suffused 
 Her cheek with crimson flush, then left it pale, 
 And fled as seeking counsel from her heart ; 
 Yet, being meek, she dared not disobey 
 Naomi's will, so promised all she wished. 
 
 When night came on, she sought the granary 
 With failing heart that feared to do amiss 
 And mar the honest lustre of her name ; 
 But filial love and duty mastered fear 
 And strengthened her resolve to execute 
 Naomi's will — the Will of God to her. 
 
 Darkling she stood, and veiled from head to foot. 
 Biding her time, until she saw the man 
 Rise sated from the harvest feast, his heart 
 Merry within him (for he gazed around 
 With brightening eye on heaps of golden corn) ; 
 Then seeking rest, at peace with all the world. 
 Smile as he slumbered on the yielding grain. 
 Him Ruth approached, and softly laid her down 
 Beside his feet, and only heard the sound 
 Of measured breathing and her own loud heart ; 
 The bright beams of the harvest moon poured in, 
 And she slept not, and all the land was still. 
 
 At midnight he awoke with sudden start ; 
 And conscious of a presence where he lay, 
 Listened with bated breath ; but all was still ; 
 Then, rising on his elbow, was aware 
 Of a veiled figure lying motionless 
 
126 SACRED POEMS. 
 
 Beneath the moonlight, pure, ethereal. 
 
 " Who art thou ? " and a trembling voice replied, 
 
 " Thy handmaid Ruth ;" and then in fainter tone. 
 
 Remembering all Naomi bade her say, 
 
 " I pray thee spread thy garment over me, 
 
 And chide me not, for thou art near of kin." 
 
 Then Boaz cried in haste, " Heav'n bless thee, Ruth, 
 My daughter, now as ever kind to me ! 
 While others of thine equals meditate 
 On marriage feasts and youthful bridegroom, thou, 
 Preferring others' weal to selfish bliss. 
 Art loyal still to thine adopted kin. 
 Fear not the tongue of slander thro' this deed, 
 Naomi's bidding ; for our city knows 
 That thou art wise and chaste beyond reproach ; 
 And future generations shall repeat 
 How bravely thou hast pleaded for the dead. 
 'Tis true, I am thy kinsman ; but there lives 
 Another nearer still in blood than I : 
 If he refuse to do a kinsman's part, 
 How gladly will I claim thee ! God above, 
 Who hears us both, be witness of my words. 
 And now lie down again and calm thy breast 
 With needful sleep, the sleep of innocence." 
 She, for his words breathed truth, in simple trust 
 Lay down again where she had lain before. 
 And slept securely till the moon went down 
 And slanting sunbeams roused her and the birds 
 Twittering beneath the eaves : then she arose. 
 And waited with Naomi for the end. 
 
RUTH. 137 
 
 IV. 
 
 Nor waited long : for when the sun was high, 
 
 Sat Boaz in the Gate of Bethlehem, 
 
 Until he saw the man of whom he spake 
 
 Pass through (his daily wont) to till his farm 
 
 Without the Gate. " Ho ! such an one," he cried, 
 
 " Sit down and hear me ; it concerns thee much : " 
 
 Then called ten Elders of the city, men 
 
 Wise and of good report, and bade them sit. 
 
 They sat attentive, five on either side. 
 
 While Boaz looked his kinstrian in the face, 
 
 And, scorning labyrinths of winding words. 
 
 Without preamble uttered all his mind. 
 
 " Naomi, now returned from Moab, sells 
 
 A plot of ground that was Elimelech's ; 
 
 To thee as next of kin belongs the right 
 
 To buy it and redeem thine heritage. 
 
 If thou wilt buy this land, redeem it now 
 
 Before the Elders sitting in the Gate. 
 
 If thou wilt not redeem it, tell me straight, 
 
 For after thee I am the next of kin.'' 
 
 He said, "I will redeem." Boaz replied, 
 
 " Whoso shall buy this land must take to wife 
 
 The Moabitess Ruth, wife of the dead, 
 
 And raise up seed on his inheritance." 
 
 The kinsman answered, " I will not redeem ; 
 
 I may not mar mine own inheritance. 
 
 Do thou redeem it." Speaking thus, he plucked 
 
 His shoe from oif his foot, and gave it him : 
 
 A sign before the Elders in the Gate 
 
 (For so the custom was in Israel) 
 
 That he renounced the privilege of kin. 
 
128 SACRED POEMS. 
 
 And Boaz said, rejoicing in his heart, 
 Before the Elders and the people all 
 Assembled in the Gate : " Be witnesses, 
 That I have purchased all the heritage 
 Which was Naomi's, and whate'er belonged 
 To Mahlon and to Chilion her sons, 
 And with it Mahlon's wife, to be my wife 
 (That our dead kinsman's name be not cut oft 
 Among his brethren in the City Gate), 
 The Moabitess Ruth." 
 
 With one accord 
 The Elders echoed, "We are witnesses ;'' 
 And added (for they loved the man and Ruth), 
 " Jehovah make this woman in thy house 
 Like Rachel and like Leah, Jacob's wives, 
 Twin pillars of the House of Israel ! 
 And make the offspring she shall bear for thee 
 Like Pharez' Seed, whom Tamar bare of old 
 To Judah — ^blessfed of the Lord our God." 
 
 So Boaz married Ruth : and when again 
 The pale gold barley rustled in the breeze 
 She bare a son. 
 
 Straightway the women ran 
 With eager joy to bring Naomi word, 
 And cried : " No longer art thou desolate, 
 Or like a barren stock in Israel, 
 For Ruth, who clave to thee in evil times, 
 Who has been better than seven sons to thee, 
 Hath borne a child — thy son — to give thee back 
 Thy pleasant days and cherish thee in eld." 
 Naomi went to Ruth ; who, when she saw 
 
RUTH. 129 
 
 Her coming, half in smiles and half in tears, 
 With quivering lip, held out the sturdy boy. 
 Then laid him nestling on her yearning heart. 
 Arid she became his nurse, and all her woe 
 Was like a frightful dream, when one awakes 
 And sees the sunshine and the happy fields. 
 Thus while Naomi nursed the child of Ruth 
 He smiled away the aching from her heart, 
 And all her pleasant days came back again, 
 And all her comely looks, as she had looked 
 Before she went to sojourn in the Land 
 Of Moab ; and her latter days were Peace. 
 
 <^ 
 
WATER. 
 
 P^"^b|1HE patriarch bowed beside his altar fire, 
 1^ (\ _ While the Creator swore 
 
 To overwhelm with waterfloods of ire 
 This world no more. 
 
 No more should infants on the cold expanse, 
 
 Wave-cradled, tempest-driven. 
 Appeal supine with marble countenance 
 
 Upturned to Heaven. 
 
 At eventide our Sun of Glory shed 
 
 His radiance on the flood. 
 Thenceforth an arch of promise overhead 
 
 Leads up to God ! 
 
 And water the destroyer learns to save, 
 
 The spoiler to increase, 
 Instead of death is life : for angry rave 
 
 Of breakers— peace ! 
 
 Bright drops poured duly with the Mystic Word 
 
 Upon a baby brow, 
 A dew of benison from Christ the Lord, 
 
 " Doth save us now." 
 
 And evermore across the water's face 
 
 Returns that Gentle Dove, 
 Who brings the threefold olive branch of grace, 
 
 Faith, Hope, and Love. 
 
THE HOLY CHILDHOOD. 
 
 |E grew in silent beauty on the hills of Galilee, 
 Like the star when daylight fadeth, like the 
 
 moon-path on the sea, 
 Like the treasure of the wild red rose, 
 maturing hour by hour, 
 That rounds a perfect circle and perfumes its native 
 bower. 
 
 But once the breath of heaven blew the sheltering screen 
 
 aside, 
 And showed what vermeil promise that enfolded blossom 
 
 \ dyed ; 
 But once our nursing Lily let a sunbeam interpose 
 For faithful spirits to adore her half-developed Rose. 
 
 But once : and then we see Him, for a little moment's 
 
 space, 
 The Son, the Everlasting in His Father's holy place ; 
 We hear the Word Incarnate speak : His voice's gentle 
 
 tone 
 Falls soft as wintry snow-flakes on the slopes of Lebanon. 
 
 10* 
 
132 SACRED POEMS. 
 
 Conversing with the Rabbins grave who sit beneath the 
 
 dome, 
 Grace from His Lips distilleth, as the honey from the 
 
 comb; 
 His Voice a childish treble ; yet the ruby cannot reach 
 The depths of Godlike wisdom that are glowing in His 
 
 Speech. 
 
 They wondered : but their hearts were blind. Would 
 
 God that they had known 
 In Him Messias, Juda's God, come down to save His 
 
 own, 
 To do His Father's business, psalm and prophet to fulfil. 
 And subdue with David's sceptre all creation to His Will. 
 
 We know Thee, know Thee who Thou art, our Saviour 
 King, and God ; 
 
 With tears we kneel to kiss each spot Thine infant foot- 
 steps trod ; 
 
 O, by that home at Nazareth, and Mary Undefiled, 
 
 Teach our proud hearts Humility — speak to us. Holy 
 Child. 
 
THE CHORAL FUNERAL. 
 
 PART I. — THE HOUSE. 
 
 OLL ! In a thousand hearts the bell's vibration, 
 The muffled moaning of that iron tongue, 
 Awakes-an answering thrill of lamentation 
 Far as its voice is flung ! 
 
 Toll ! All the hamlet mourns : yet the departed 
 Could boast no storied name, no high degree ; 
 A youth of lowly birth, but gentle-hearted — 
 A village teacher he. 
 
 An honest, happy boy he grew before us ; 
 When work was done, alert at comrades' call 
 With hearty mirth to swell the tuneful chorus, 
 Or urge the bounding ball. 
 
 But when the bell, whose melancholy voicing 
 Invites the mourners to his funeral bier. 
 Proclaimed some sacred Feast of high rejoicing 
 
 To Christ's own children dear ; 
 
134 SACRED POEMS. 
 
 To him a warm and filial heart was granted, 
 To heed our Mother's oft-neglected calls, 
 And bow the knee where prayer and praise are chanted. 
 Within the Chancel walls. 
 
 How often will arise a tearful yearning, 
 Evoked by hymns he sang with us of yore. 
 The while we keep each Feast and Fast returning ; 
 But he returns no more ! 
 
 And yet our truer spirit is confessing. 
 That were affection's voice endued with power 
 To call our dead from yonder home of blessing. 
 We would not for an hour 
 
 Renew, by importuning supplication, 
 
 "The thousand natural ills" of vanished years. 
 
 Or mar the resting soul's emancipation 
 
 From travail and from tears. 
 
 PART U. — THE CHURCH. 
 
 Toll ! Lift the white-cross bier with tender caution ; 
 Toll ! Bear him gently from his father's door ; 
 Toll ! Let the strain, " Brief life is here our portion," 
 Float sweetly on before. 
 
 He comes ! No more, O bell, of tolling sadness ; 
 Ring out, ring out a welcome from afar, 
 For mothers greet their hero sons with gladness, 
 Though wounded in the war. 
 
THE CHORAL FUNERAL. 135 
 
 Stricken to death ! His wounds, ah ! who can number ? 
 Hark ! " My Redeemer liveth" ; at His Word 
 These sealed eyelids shall shake off their slumber, 
 And gaze upon the Lord ! 
 
 Home, home at last ! No pagan pomp of mourning 
 
 Is here to scorn the faith our hearts believe. 
 
 But Christmas wreaths, and hopeful texts adorning 
 
 The Church this New Year's Eve. 
 
 Peace, all is peace ; the chant serenely flowing, 
 "The Prince of Peace" emblazoned on the wall. 
 The flowers on the coffin, and the glowing 
 
 Utterance of Blessfed Paul ! 
 
 And now in turn we sing before the Altar, 
 Where first he knelt to eat the Living Bread, 
 " Dixi custodiam,'' but our voices falter 
 
 Above the quiet dead : 
 
 Thinking how one, who oft in Christian union 
 Ate and drank with us in the year gone by. 
 Had craved at midnight hour his Last Communion, 
 Then laid him down to die. 
 
 PART III. — THE GRAVE. 
 
 For the last time beneath the sacred portal. 
 Along the churchyard path the mourners wound. 
 To sow in hope another seed immortal 
 
 In Jesus' garden-ground. 
 
136 SACRED POEMS. 
 
 And still we hear the bold refrain repeated, 
 " What aileth thee, that thou hast fled, O Sea ? 
 Wherefore, O Jordan, have thy waves retreated. 
 And left the passage free ? 
 
 " The Lord is here ! His Presence ne'er forsaketh 
 The pilgrim host of happy Israel, 
 Before His Face the desert flint outbreaketh 
 Into a springing well." 
 
 Silent at length the ancient Hebrew Paean ; 
 Around the grave on either side we stand ; 
 Above, the slowly darkening empyrean. 
 
 Beneath, the snow-clad land. 
 
 But as the sun's bright chariot hastes to leave us, 
 Narrowing its course across the face of day. 
 Yet nature only bids him thus bereave us. 
 
 To illume the Far-away ; 
 
 And wake beneath his equatorial splendour 
 A fairer landscape with a brighter glow, 
 And nourish blossoms odoirous and tender, 
 
 That fear no frost and snow ; 
 
 And evening fades to morning ! So the setting 
 Of earthly suns amid this wintry strife 
 For Christian souls is evermore begetting 
 
 Clear morns of endless life. 
 
 Our night is falling ; but a cloudless morrow 
 
 In Paradise is orient for him. 
 
 Around whose rest in no ungrateful sorrow 
 
 We chant the " Evening Hymn.'' 
 
THE CHORAL FUNERAL. 137 
 
 Some ministering angel bade him bring it, 
 The offering of his dying Hps to God ; 
 And therefore to the self-same tune we sing it 
 Above the upturned sod. 
 
 At peace with Thee, at peace with all, we leave him ; 
 Secure " beneath the shadow of Thy wings,'' 
 Now and at that great Judgment Day receive him, 
 Lord Jesu, King of Kings ! 
 
 R. I. P. 
 
 1^ 
 
 T. D. 
 
CONSOLATION. 
 
 A BALLAD. 
 
 THE STEWARD S TALE. 
 
 ROSE has climbed the southern wall 
 And blushing seeks regard to win, 
 Why doth the Lady at the Hall 
 Refuse to let its fragrance in ? 
 The shadows sweep across the hill, 
 
 The waters in the valley play, 
 Why is the manor-house as still 
 As death itself to-day ? 
 
 And all within is wrapt in gloom, 
 
 The servants move with shrouded brows 
 And voices husht in darkened room. 
 
 As if a corpse were in the house. 
 Why doth the Lady kneel apart 
 
 Before an open book to-day. 
 And press it to her lips and heart. 
 
 And fast, and weep, and pray ? 
 
 ^ A sequel to " Home Sickness," p. 41. 
 
CONSOLATION. 139 
 
 You wonder. Yes, the rose is fine ; 
 
 But one grew here more fair and tall ; 
 The sun upon the hill doth shine, 
 
 But he was sunshine in the Hall. 
 One voice hath faltered parting word 
 
 Will utter greeting word no more, 
 One welcome footfall ne'er be heard 
 
 Beside his mother's door. 
 
 This was the day ! Ten years ago 
 
 That bloody victory was won 
 On Alma's height. God willed it so, 
 
 My Lady lost her only son. 
 And ever as the months roll round 
 
 She keeps this sad September-day 
 For him who lies in alien ground. 
 
 Unheeded, far away. 
 
 That book she gave with trembling hand 
 
 When last she kist him at the door, 
 They sent it home from Russian land. 
 
 And she will keep it evermore. 
 A ghastly crimson stain beneath 
 
 Those well-worn covers scarcely hide, 
 He blest it with his parting breath, 
 
 And claspt it when he died. 
 
 Ah, 'twas a vision one might see 
 
 Upon a restless fever-bed. 
 My Lady in her agony 
 
 When first she knew her son was dead. 
 
140 SACRED POEMS. 
 
 She listened for the postman's horn, 
 She met the tidings at the door, 
 
 And fainting fell — O woeful morn ! 
 Upon the marble floor. 
 
 Then while we bathed her forehead pale, 
 
 And knew that she was free from pain, 
 We almost dreaded to prevail 
 
 And win her back to thought again. 
 Too soon, too soon she raised her head. 
 
 And uttered but one bitter cry — 
 No more — yet we who heard it said 
 
 'Twere better far to die. 
 
 Thro' many a weary, weary night 
 
 With unclosed eyes she watched for day, 
 But when she saw the dawning light. 
 
 Loathing she turned her face away. 
 At morn, at noon, at eventide, 
 
 " Ah, me," she said, " he cannot come. 
 Would God," she said, "that I had died 
 For thee, my son ; " as David cried 
 
 For fallen Absalom. 
 
 So when her mourning found no end. 
 
 And time no solace seemed to give ; 
 We prayed kind Heaven some help to send, 
 
 Or that my Lady might not live. 
 How wonderful are all His ways ! 
 
 How graciously He works His will ! 
 In darkest gloom of evil days 
 
 He thinks of mercy still. 
 
CONSOLATION. 141 
 
 It happened thus : a youthful wife 
 
 Dwelt in a cot a mile away, 
 Her husband gone to join the strife 
 
 When the fierce Cossack stood at bay. 
 Dread tidings came. He too was gone. 
 
 Her bridal flowers were scarcely dead ! 
 And now she sat and wept alone 
 
 Beside her widowed bed. 
 
 My Lady comes of haughty line ; 
 
 She was right generous with her gold, 
 But seldom would her heart incline 
 
 To list the story Misery told. 
 She was not loved : where'er she went 
 
 The peasants bowed and stood aloof, 
 Rarely, if ever,. she unbent 
 
 Beneath a poor man's roof. 
 
 But when she heard of Elsie's woe, 
 
 She cast her plaid about her straight. 
 And sought that night the glen below 
 
 With earnest look and hurrying gait. 
 I followed her ; for hill and dale 
 
 Lay buried deep in drifted snow, 
 'Twere all unfit for one so frail 
 
 Through such a night to go. 
 
 She glided on with motion swift, 
 A shadow o'er the pathless white, 
 
 And little recked the dangerous drift 
 Or biting keenness of the night. 
 
142 SACRED POEMS. 
 
 Across the wild and wintry land 
 (So silently she knew it not) 
 
 I followed ; and I saw her stand 
 Before poor Elsie's coL 
 
 The mourner rose in wild surprise, 
 
 And reverence made with bended knee, 
 Then strove to dry her streaming eyes 
 
 And check the sob of misery. 
 " Poor child, would God that I could cure 
 
 Thy aching wound," the Lady said ; 
 " Full well I know 'tis hard to endure 
 
 This yearning for the dead ! 
 
 " I've been to blame ! My heart was cold ; 
 
 Within my soul compassion slept ; 
 I thought to solace grief with gold, 
 
 I never wept with those who wept. 
 And then the Master sent me woe ; 
 
 But, child, I dare not now repine, 
 If thus He taught these tears to flow 
 
 In sympathy with thine. 
 
 " My boy, my boy ! the punishment 
 
 Was greater than my soul could bear, 
 Till He in sweet compassion sent 
 
 A voice to rouse me from despair. 
 ' Go, wipe the tear from sorrow's cheek. 
 
 Go, hush the wounded spirit's moan ; 
 Each burden lifted from the weak, 
 
 Shall surely ease thine own.' 
 
CONSOLATION. 143 
 
 " And so, remembering that dread hour 
 
 Which blasted with its bitter breatli 
 My only one, my darling flower, 
 
 And left me but a living death, 
 I come, poor Elsie, widowed bride, 
 
 Intreating thee to let me stay 
 A fellow-mourner by thy side, 
 
 To pity and to pray." 
 
 And then she spake of that fair home, 
 
 Jerusalem, the city blest, 
 Where brave and noble spirits come 
 
 And enter into perfect rest 
 " They have no sorrow there," she said ; 
 
 " Would God we two were with them now ; " 
 And as she spake, her hand she laid 
 
 On Elsie's burning brow. 
 
 And patient in her blessfed toil, 
 
 My Lady lowly vigil kept, 
 Pouring with gentle hand the oil 
 
 Of comfort, till the mourner slept 
 To. see her condescending thus, 
 
 A shepherdess to this poor lamb, 
 It made me think of Lazarus 
 
 Consoled by Abraham ; 
 
 And how, when this world is no more, 
 
 The rich in faith and poor in pride 
 Shall all join hands on yonder shore, 
 
 And be together glorified. 
 A sudden blaze leaps up, and flings 
 
 A halo from the hearth around, 
 'Tis like a gleam of angel wings 
 
 O'ershadowing holy ground. 
 
"SEE, HERE IS WATER." 
 
 Thoughts arising from a comparison of the two Evening 
 Lessons for January i^th in the New Calendar. 
 
 ERUSALEM to Gaza ; that is it 
 
 Which compasseth Beersheba, desert land 
 
 Unmarked by time, save where the Spirit writ 
 
 Two fadeless histories in the shifting sand. 
 
 And Mother Church, sagacious to divide 
 The Word of God, on that untrodden scene 
 
 Displayeth these life-dramas, side by side, 
 Albeit two thousand summers intervene. 
 
 I see a Syrian mother leave her child 
 Beneath a stunted shrub, and wait alone 
 
 A bowshot off; her eyes with anguish wild 
 Pleading in concert with her darling's moan. 
 
 I see a chariot passing by that way, 
 And one who reads a volume in his hand 
 
 With look perplexed and sad, as who should say, 
 " I read, my God, but cannot understand." 
 
" SEE, HERE JS l^ATEJi." 145 
 
 First that, then this ! how diverse to the sight ! 
 
 Yet, like twin sun-prints in the stereoscope. 
 The incongruous lines harmoniously unite, 
 
 And form one perfect picture, bright with hope : 
 
 One picture of a thirsting heart that pleads, 
 
 Lost in a wildering desert, for relief, 
 The same, within whatever breast it bleeds, 
 
 Of swarthy slave-girl or of car-borne chief. 
 
 And of Of!te High Impartial Comforter, 
 Alike for mean or noble, bond or free. 
 
 To open healing fountains, and confer 
 
 Enduring treasures and the heavenly key.' 
 
 " See, here is water ! " — water sent to save 
 The drooping life of Hagar's outcast child : 
 
 " See, here is water ! " — a baptismal wave 
 To wash the Ethiop white and undefiled. 
 
 Flow on, swift runlet, to the western main ! 
 
 Thy storied waters teach me while they roll 
 That mourners' cry ascendeth not in vain 
 
 For suffering body or for thirsting soul. 
 
 God hears and answers all : like golden chains 
 That bind His Heart to earth, nor space can sever, 
 
 Nor centuries corrode, His love remains 
 Unchanging yesterday, to-day, for ever. 
 
 'Acts viii. 27. 
 
" OUT OF EGYPT HAVE I CALLED MY SON." 
 
 ALLED out by Voice of thunder, 
 
 Through tears, and blood, and flame, 
 Through billows rent asunder. 
 Thy son from Egypt came — 
 Thy Israel, Thy " first-born," 
 When visited by Thee, 
 A ransomed band 
 Marched from the land 
 Of bondage and were free. 
 
 A gentler warning given 
 
 From Egypt called Thy Son, 
 The Incarnate King of Heaven, 
 
 The Sole-Begotten One ; 
 
 When angel-guards encircled 
 
 The Lily of the Vale, 
 
 To shield from foes 
 
 Our Sharon's Rose, 
 
 And cool the desert gale. 
 
''OUT OF EG YPT." 147 
 
 And now through mystic waters, 
 
 To seek a Father's home, 
 Thy Gentile sons and daughters 
 
 Thou callest, and we come ! 
 
 O feed us, else we perish. 
 
 With Manna as we go ; 
 
 And from the Side 
 
 Of Him who Died, 
 
 Bid streams of mercy flow. 
 
 And lest the foe enthrall us 
 Again on Egypt's shore, 
 O Love Paternal, call us. 
 And call us evermore : 
 Add fervour to the spirit, 
 And courage to the heart ; 
 We too are sons. 
 Thy chosen ones, 
 And Thou our Father art 
 
 How long, like faithful Moses, 
 
 Must we, regarding not 
 Egyptia's dainty roses, 
 
 Endure the pilgrim's lot ? 
 
 Call us once more, O Father, 
 
 And bid Thy wanderers see 
 
 The joyful rest. 
 
 The City Blest, 
 
 Jerusalem and Thee. 
 
GILGAL. 
 
 AN ALLEGORY. 
 
 ' They took twelve stones out of the midst of Jordan unto the place 
 where they lodged, and laid them down there." 
 
 • ETHOUGHT I stood within the camping- 
 ground 
 Where Israel's myriad warriors slept that 
 night 
 
 They crossed the Jordan, ere their eager sight 
 Had searched the fruitful valleys spreading round. 
 
 With helm unclasped they lay, and loosened mail, 
 Each in his rank : and, seeing not their breath, 
 A shudder chilled my heart ; so like to death 
 
 Those forms recumbent and those faces pale. 
 
 I saw twelve mighty boulders ; side by side 
 Their ghastly whiteness glimmered in the dark ; 
 Each on its rounded surface showed the mark 
 
 Of that fierce river's ever-fretting tide. 
 
GILGAL. 149 
 
 They stood memorials of the might of God, 
 Which, when high Jordan flooded all the lands 
 At harvest-tide, brought Israel's tired bands 
 
 Across the rocky river-bed dry shod. 
 
 For when the ripples, lapping at the brim, 
 
 Bedewed with spray the High Priest's naked feet, 
 The shrinking river fled its ancient seat. 
 
 The bafiled billows bowed the knee to him. 
 
 Mid channel stayed the Ark while all passed o'er ; 
 And Jordan's watery wall at Zaretan 
 Stood firm ; till Judah first and rearward Dan 
 
 Had furled their darkling banners on the shore. 
 
 Methought I saw the weary pilgrims rest 
 Upon " the lap of earth : '' ere long the day 
 With trumpet-call would rouse them, and display 
 
 The goodly land " with milk and honey blest." 
 
EPIPHANY. 
 
 HE sun, long since uprisen, waits o'erhead 
 In seas of living lustre islanded : 
 In vain ! for earth enfolds herself in grey, 
 Cold mist, impervious to the cheering ray : 
 
 The noon-tide hour is past ! Ah, will there be 
 
 From dawn to sunset no Epiphany ? 
 
 The gloom is not unbroken ; here and there 
 Through azure rift the sun's pale golden hair, 
 At first in eastern clime, then farther west, 
 Is trailed aslant on tree and mountain crest 
 That glows cross-crowned, a distant Calvary, 
 Enaureoled in brief Epiphany. 
 
 But envious fogs, exhaled from dank lagoon. 
 Enshroud with dusk-expanding wings too soon 
 The pure light struggling through each gilded spot ; 
 'Tis lost, and darkness comprehends it not ! 
 Till waiting eyes wax weary, strained to see 
 The glorious Sun, and His Epiphany. 
 
EPIPHANY. 151 
 
 For like the tongue of flame that shouteth war 
 From cliff to headland furiously and far; 
 As lightning leapeth from the eastern haze 
 And scares the west with one continuous blaze ; 
 So, Light of Light, shall Thy appearing be, 
 The sevenfold sun of Thine Epiphany ! 
 
 But not till earth's dark cloudy day is o'er. 
 Till wanes this sun, and time shall be no more, 
 Till spirits of the air and shapes of night 
 Fly shrieking from the Presence of that Light 
 Which maketh all things new, may watchers see 
 The outburst of that grand Epiphany. 
 
 Not of the things-that-be did seers behold 
 Foreshadowed gleams of beauty manifold ; 
 This busy earth, like one vast funeral pyre, 
 Waits but the breath of God to melt in fire ! 
 Then out of Chaos Life, the world-to-be. 
 The golden City, the Epiphany. 
 
MATER DOLOROSA. 
 
 A BALLAD. 
 
 pm^™S|,IS sad to see the yellow leaf when winter days 
 
 And sadder when the hoar frost nips the 
 promise of the year ; 
 But when untimely blasts uproot, or cankering mildews 
 
 blight 
 The vine in her summer fruitfulness — that is the saddest 
 sight. 
 
 She is almost gone : five years a wife ; four years of 
 
 wedded bliss, 
 And then one year of calm decay ; and now it is come 
 
 to this. 
 I've knelt by many a dying bed of happiness or woe. 
 But death has seldom had the power to move my spirit so- 
 
 For I am old, and she is young, and I knew her long 
 
 before, 
 When she sat a child in the warm twilight and sang at her 
 
 father's door ; 
 
MATER DOLOROSA. 153 
 
 And I gave her hand to the hand she loved ; but that has 
 
 past away : 
 It seems so strange that I should live to see her burial day. 
 
 Through all last year unmurmuring she bent beneath the 
 
 rod, 
 And gathered, as her strength declined, increasing faith 
 
 in God ; 
 Till all her will was blent with His : and now the hour is 
 
 nigh. 
 She looks to Jesus' Cross alone to teach her how to die. 
 
 He breathes a peace the world knows not, as Holy Scrip- 
 ture saith, 
 
 He tempers for his dying lamb the chilly airs of death. 
 
 " O sir," she said, "did I not know my Lord's dear love 
 for me, 
 
 What other comfort could I find in this extremity?" 
 
 Another sleepless night is past, another sun is risen, 
 Her gentle spirit lingers yet within its shrunken prison, 
 But lo ! her cheek is wet with tears, her bosom heaves 
 
 with woe. 
 And strengthened by some mortal grief she tosseth to 
 
 and fro. 
 
 " Dear daughter, hath some early sin forgotten, unconfest. 
 Disturbed the Dove of holy peace which made thy 
 
 labour rest ? 
 Take heart again ; look up ; believe that thou wilt 
 
 enter in ; 
 The Blood of Jesus Christ our Lord hath cleansfed all 
 
 thy sin. 
 
154 SACRED POEMS. 
 
 " But yesterday, upborne by hope which death could not 
 
 affright, 
 Thoii didst but wait till He should come, and faith be lost 
 
 in sight ; 
 And now — Good Jesus, suffer not this soul to fall away 
 From Thee through any pains of death" — thus did the 
 
 old man pray. 
 
 It is not that: the upward sign, the look of trusting love. 
 Are tokens of an anchored hope which Satan cannot 
 
 move; 
 It is not that, but a faintest sound of voices far away 
 (Ah, how it vibrates in her heart) of her little ones at 
 
 play. 
 
 O mother's heart, O mother's love, so tender and so sure i 
 All other earthly loves may fail, but a mother's will en- 
 dure; 
 How often when the prodigal with selfish, sinful will 
 Has tried it to the uttermost, that love remaineth still ! 
 
 And when his sin has found him out, and he, as good as 
 
 dead. 
 Can find no shelter where to hide his poor, degraded 
 
 head. 
 Can gain no word of pity, but only scorn and blame, 
 A mother is a mother still in spite of sin and shame. 
 
 O mother's love, dear mother's love, how strong to soothe 
 
 and bless ! 
 She only sees her own dear boy and all his wretchedness. 
 She only thinks of holy paths his infant feet once trod. 
 And trusts that she will win him back to virtue and to 
 
 God. 
 
MATER DOLOROSA. 155 
 
 Dear mother's love, so oft deceived, yet full of trust again. 
 Least worthless type our world can show of Jesus' Love 
 
 for men ; 
 'Tis wringing now her failing heart; it chokes her parting 
 
 breath. 
 The mother's yearning for her own is mightiest in death. 
 
 " Their voices ! hush, their voices, sir ! I know the pro- 
 mise true, 
 But, O my pretty little ones, how can I part from you ? " 
 I wept with her, but what avails to stay the mother's moan. 
 No human tears, no human words, save Jesus' words 
 alone. 
 
 I pointed to the Saviour's Cross, His Cross of utter woe. 
 And bade her mark the drooping form that waited there 
 
 below. 
 And see how they were parted — That Mother and That 
 
 Son; 
 That so her soul might gather strength to say, " Thy Will 
 
 be done." 
 
 " 'Mid scomers and blasphemers His dear Brow she could 
 
 not kiss. 
 She could not hold His nailbd hand — was ever death like 
 
 His? 
 For thee and thine He suffered all : and now He bids 
 
 thee sip 
 The chalice of this bitter grief with uncomplaining lip.^' 
 
 His " Son, behold thy mother,'' she remembered that 
 
 dear word, 
 And pleaded in her agony, " Behold, Thy children, Lord, 
 
iS6 SACRED POEMS. 
 
 The children Thou hast given me : they bear Thy Holy 
 
 Sign, 
 And now I bring them back to Thee to be for ever Thine. 
 
 " 1 die content ; for Thou wilt love them better far, and 
 
 keep 
 My lambs with more than mother's care, when I am laid 
 
 asleep ; 
 By Mary's woe beneath the Cross, protect the babes I 
 
 leave ; 
 By that Farewell on Calvary, my dying charge receive. 
 
 " And when Thy jewels are made up from among the sons 
 
 of men, 
 I shall look for all my pretty ones to see their faces then ; 
 They may be little children still, or men and women grown. 
 But my heart will point them out to me, and I shall know 
 
 my own." 
 
 She slept and never woke again, a token of the rest 
 That soothes her tender spirit in the regions of the Blest, 
 Where the Good Shepherd feeds His flock, and leads to 
 
 fairer bowers. 
 And cooler streams, and sunnier fields, and sweeter 
 
 homes than ours. 
 
 You would hardly deem her a mother, if you never before 
 
 had known 
 That form so wasted and faded which Death has made 
 
 his own, 
 For the young look has come back again, the same sweet 
 , look she wore 
 When she used to sit in the warm twilight and sing at her 
 
 father's door. 
 
THE SNOWDROP. 
 
 HERE is a snowy blossom 
 That opens in the spring, 
 Whose transient beauty withers 
 Before the linnets sing. 
 Such was her soul's expansion, 
 
 Such was her early fall ; 
 
 The Favourite of the village, 
 
 The Darling of the hall. 
 
 A fierce unsparing tempest 
 
 Came sweeping o'er her bower, 
 And smote our tender Snowdrop 
 
 For many a weary hour ; 
 And trampled out her sweetness 
 
 With unrelenting foot. 
 And scattering all her leaflets, 
 
 Left but a faded root. 
 
 We planted it with weeping. 
 But hope illumed our tears, 
 
 Forecasting all the glory 
 Of the consummated years. 
 
iS8 SACRED POEMS. 
 
 We knew she was but sleeping 
 The slumber of the Blest, 
 
 Whereby He sweetly giveth 
 His own beloved rest. 
 
 So sleepeth now our Snowdrop 
 
 Within her guarded bed ; 
 She doeth well that sleepeth, 
 
 We will not call her dead. 
 Dead things are dead for ever. 
 
 Dead things can never rise ; 
 But our dear buried Snowdrop 
 
 Will open her sweet eyes. 
 
 When the weary winter passes, 
 
 And the singing birds rejoice ; 
 When within the leafy covert 
 
 Is heard the turtle's voice ; 
 When the renovating zephyr 
 
 Dissolves the chilly snow ; 
 When the world puts on her raiment, 
 
 Such as faded long ago ; 
 
 When the Lord of Flowers cometh 
 
 To breathe upon the earth, 
 And all our sleeping blossoms 
 
 Are springing into birth ; 
 When the thorn and brier perish. 
 
 And the rose and myrtle rise ; 
 Our little buried Snowdrop 
 
 Will open her sweet eyes ! 
 
THE SNOWDROP. 159 
 
 But now, when lamps are lighted 
 
 To chase the winter gloom, 
 And her dear ones all are gathered 
 
 Within the curtained room ; 
 When the cares of day are over, 
 
 The anxious heart at ease, 
 And the fair-haired children clamber 
 
 About their parents' knees : 
 
 They miss the loving-kindness 
 
 Of touch and look and tone, 
 Breathings of home-affection. 
 
 Which won her all their own ; 
 And they miss the rippling music 
 
 Of her master-melodies. 
 And the flashing of her fingers 
 
 Across the sounding keys. 
 
 The soul's unsated yearning 
 
 For loved ones gone before 
 Is like an angel leading 
 
 Toward the Better Shore. 
 I see His track of glory 
 
 Across Death's misty sea ; 
 He draws aside the curtain 
 
 Which hid the Blest from me ! 
 
 Lo ! in the midst a maiden, 
 With tresses golden bright, 
 
 A jewelled crown, a palm-branch, 
 And robes of lustrous white, 
 
i6o SACRED POEMS. 
 
 And a dear hand beckoning ever, 
 And a pleading look of love, 
 
 And a gentle voice, " Oh, hasten 
 To this happier home above," 
 
 God help us ! We will hasten, 
 
 We cannot say thee nay ; 
 O pray for us, sweet spirit, 
 
 And speed us on our way ; 
 Till, sin and sorrow over. 
 
 We wander at thy side. 
 Where the Tree of Life is growing. 
 
 Where the Living Waters glide ; 
 
 Till we hear the rippling music 
 
 We remember float along. 
 Attuned to golden harping, 
 
 Attuned to silvery song ; 
 Till we see thee meekly leaning 
 
 On the Tender Shepherd's breast, 
 And behold thy word's full meaning, 
 
 " Yes, in heaven there is rest" 
 
 R. I. P. 
 
 ^ 
 
 J.F. 
 
MORS VICTA, 
 
 ' We sorrow not as others which have mo hope." 
 
 iEEDS must we mourn our loved ones past 
 avay ; — 
 Bid not our tears to cease, though well we 
 know 
 
 Their home is now in realms of nightless day, 
 Far, far from earth's unceasing round of woe. 
 
 We may not yet a strain of triumph sing, 
 
 While in our hearts the grave's dull echo lingers ; 
 
 And, wet with falling tears, each tuneful string 
 
 Would thrill discordant 'neath our trembling fingers. 
 
 'Tis on the rain-cloud's curtain dark and dreary, 
 Not on bright skies, the Bow of Hope is bom ; 
 
 And we must chant our Lenten " miserere " 
 Before we hail the joyous Easter morn. 
 
 ,The skies, when sinks their Sun in darksome night, 
 
 On earth's cold breast weep tears of orphaned sorrow, 
 Though he on other lands is beaming bright. 
 And soon will rise to bring the gladsome morrow. 
 
 12 
 
i62 SACRED POEMS. 
 
 So will we weep : and as the freshened earth 
 
 Puts forth new flowers beneath the night-fall'n dew, 
 In our parched hearts some plant of heavenly birth, 
 ■ That long hath drooped, may bud and bloom anew. 
 
 Fond mortals, hoping, doubting sons of clay, 
 We shrink and shudder at the lifted dart ; 
 
 When Faith's strong hand might pluck thy mask away, 
 Grim Death, and show thee, as indeed thou art, 
 
 No conqueror proud — a weak and trembling slave. 
 Who marks with fainting heart and anxious eye 
 
 Each grain of dust that through the narrow grave 
 Drops down from Time into Eternity. 
 
 These are the sands that measure in God's glass 
 Thy term of triumph : but a few grains more 
 
 Of that swift ever-running stream must pass, 
 And thy brief hour of tyranny is o'er. 
 
HYMNS AND PSALMS. 
 
 TRANSLATED FROM THE LATIN. 
 
 'TE LUCIS ANTE TERMINUM. 
 
 EFORE the daylight fades away, 
 Creator of the world, we pray, 
 Olet Thy wonted Mercy stand 
 Our wakeful guardian nigh at hand. 
 
 Let no defiling dream molest. 
 No darkling sprite approach, our rest ; 
 Confound our deadly foe's design 
 To stain these bodies that are Thine. 
 
 Father Omnipotent, afford 
 This help through Jesus Christ our Lord, 
 Who with the Holy Ghost and Thee 
 Doth live and reign eternally. 
 
 Amen. 
 
TRANSLATED FROM THE LATIN 
 
 "te lucis ante terminum." 
 
 (A Second Version.) 
 
 E whom Thou hast made, 
 Ere the light be ended, 
 
 With Thy wonted aid 
 Pray to be defended 
 
 Let no darkling sprite, 
 
 No foul dreams, beguile us ; 
 Check our foe to-night, 
 
 Lest his arts defile us. 
 
 Grant all this, we pray. 
 
 Through Christ Jesu's merit, 
 Who with Thee for aye 
 
 Reigns, and with the Spirit. 
 
 Amen. 
 
TRANSLATED FROM THE LATIN. 
 
 " JAM LUCIS ORTO, SIDERK" 
 
 OW that the risen sun we see," 
 Beseech we God, on bended knee, 
 In every action of the day 
 To keep us from each hurtful way. 
 
 To place a bridle on the tongue. 
 Lest the alarm of strife be rung ; 
 To vail the eyes that vainly rove 
 With holy influence from above. 
 
 To keep our spirits pure within 
 From thoughts of passion and of sin, 
 While we by spare and simple food 
 Subdue the pride of flesh and blood. 
 
 So when,-, the day forsakes our sight, 
 And changeful nature brings us night, 
 No discords of the world shall dim 
 The " gloria " of our vesper hymn. 
 
 Thee; Jesu Virgin-born, we praise. 
 Father, to Thee our song we raise. 
 Thee, Holy Spirit, we adore 
 For ever and for evermore. Amen. 
 
FOR THE OLD PEOPLE'S FESTIVAL, 
 
 HELD IN THE AUTHOR'S PARISH 
 
 ON SAINT JOHN THE EVANGELIST'S DAY. 
 
 " Forsake me not in my old age." 
 
 ORD, in these sacred courts a band 
 Of pilgrims full of years we stand : 
 To glorify the New-bom Son, 
 And keep the Feast of good Saint John. 
 
 Accept the tribute of our praise 
 For goodness that has crowned our days ; 
 From infant years to life's last end 
 Thou art our Father and our Friend. 
 
 Whene'er we strayed with sinful will. 
 Thy loving-kindness sought us still ; 
 And when we bent the suppliant knee, 
 We gained a pardoning smile from Thee. 
 
 We could not see from day to day, 
 But Thou hast brought us on our way, 
 And, rough or smooth, Thy way is best. 
 It leads through hope to perfect rest. 
 
FOE THE OLD PEOPLE'S FESTIVAL. 167 
 
 The hoary brow, the failing strength, 
 Remind us of our journey's length; 
 We hear the River's solemn flow 
 Louder and louder as we go. 
 
 Like John the agfed may we be ; 
 Our hearts so full of love for Thee, 
 That we, like him, may cry, " O come. 
 Come quickly, Jesu : take us home." 
 
 We tarry but for Thee to guide 
 Our trembling feet o'er Jordan's tide. 
 And to our fond embrace restore 
 Belovbd friends who passed before. 
 
TRANSLATED FROM THE LATIN. 
 
 FOR THE FEAST OF THE HOLY INNOCENTS. 
 
 " SALVETE FLORES MARTYRUM." 
 
 AIL, garland of martyrs, 
 Whom Christ's persecutor 
 On Light's very threshold 
 Swept off, as a whirlwind 
 Might ravish the rose-buds. 
 
 First victims for Jesus ! 
 Like lambkins meal-sprinkled, 
 In front of the altar 
 Ye guilelessly sported 
 With palm knd with chaplet ! 
 
 From crime so accursed 
 What profit to Herod ? 
 Lo ! One among many. 
 Our Jesus, uninjured 
 Is rescued from slaughter. 
 
2HE HOL Y INNOCENTS. 169 
 
 Unhurt amid torrents 
 Of infantine bloodshed, 
 The Child of the Virgin 
 Evaded the sword which 
 Made young mothers childless. 
 
 Thus Moses in old time, 
 Who rescued His people, 
 Prefiguring Jesus, 
 Had baffled the bootless 
 Commandment of Pharaoh. 
 
 Sing praise to your Captain 
 In joy and destruction, 
 In health and in sickness — 
 In death, for from henceforth 
 Man dieth no longer ! Amen. 
 
PSALM I. 
 
 FIRST PART.— Verses i and 2. 
 
 For Lent and Passion-tide. 
 
 LESSED Thou wert before 
 Creation's work began, 
 And Blessfed evermore 
 We hail Thee, Son of man. 
 
 Our Second Adam, Thou 
 Didst conquer in the wild ; 
 No cruel scorn could bow 
 Thy Manhood undefiled. 
 
 For in temptation's day, 
 And death's long torturing nighty 
 God's ^ Word was still Thy stay, 
 Thy study, Thy delight 
 
 All glory, Lord, to Thee 
 Most tempted, tortured most ; 
 With God the Father be,' 
 And God the Holy Ghost 
 
 'See Deut. viii. 3 ; vi. 16 ; x. 20 ; and Ps. xxii., which our Lord, it 
 is thought, recited while on the Cross. 
 

 u 
 
 
 S 
 
 
 K^ 
 
 PSALM I. 
 
 SECOND PAST.— Verses 3 and 4. 
 
 For Easter-tide. 
 
 JESU, Tree of Life 
 O'ershadowing holy ground, 
 Where gracious gales are rife, 
 Where healing streams abound; 
 
 Fruits, in due season ripe, 
 Thy noble branches lade ; 
 And, of Thy words the type, 
 Green leaves that never fade. 
 
 Expand from sea to sea, 
 Still prosper and increase ; 
 We fly, like birds, to Thee 
 For shelter, food, and peace. 
 
 All glory. Lord, to Thee 
 Most Highest, lauded most, 
 With God the Father be. 
 And God the Holy Ghost. 
 
WEDNESDAY IN HOLY WEEK. 
 
 'Is it I?" 
 
 STREAMING Blood, O wounded Flesh, 
 
 Of Jesus on the cursbd Tree ! 
 Can I constrain to bleed afresh 
 
 The wounds that plead in heaven for me ? 
 
 How can I set at nought again 
 
 The patient Lamb who meekly died ; 
 
 Or slay once more the Victim Slain, 
 And crucify the Crucified ? 
 
 Forbid it, Lord. Enough that one 
 
 Kissed and betrayed his God and Friend ; 
 
 I pray for grace such guilt to shun : 
 O save me from the traitor's end. 
 
 Great is my sin ! " Lord, is it I ? " 
 This burdened soul is forced to say : 
 
 Have mercy, Jesu, and reply, 
 
 " Lo, I have put thy sin away." Amen. 
 
FOR HOLY WEEK. 
 
 tXaffftyri fiot Tip ^jiapTtaiKt^ 
 
 LL my sins uprising now 
 Wring my heart and brand my brow ; 
 Bold, presumptuous sins of youth, 
 Despite done to Grace and Truth : 
 
 Is there Mercy left for me ? 
 
 " Jesus died : He died for thee J" 
 
 Deeds and words and fancies vain 
 Darker, deadlier made the stain 
 On the Record kept on high. 
 On my soul condemned to die : 
 Is there cleansing left for me ? 
 " Jesus bled : He bled for tliee ! " 
 
 Ah, my heart is hard within, 
 Callous through repeated sin. 
 When I fain would kneel and pray, 
 Satan steals the power away : 
 Tell, what hope remains for me? 
 "Jesus prayed: He prayed for thee." 
 
T74 SACRED POEMS. 
 
 Once far back in vanished years 
 I bedewed my couch with tears ; 
 Now no gracious drops will flow 
 From my deeper fount of woe : 
 Death and judgment wait for me. 
 " Jesus wept : He wept for thee ! " 
 
 Dare I lift my shameful face, 
 I who trampled on His grace ? 
 Dare I seek the Lord of Light 
 Where His saints are clad in white ? 
 How they all would shrink from me ! 
 " Jesus stoops : He stoops to thee ! 
 
 " Jesus died to make thee whole ; 
 Jesus bled to wash thy soul ; 
 Jesus prayed, and thou hast part ; 
 Jesus wept to break thy heart ; 
 Jesus stoops : poor sinner, see ; 
 Rise, look up, He calleth thee ! " 
 
PSALM III. 
 
 VSRSES 2, 3, 4, 5, 8. 
 
 Easter Eve. 
 
 O help for Him in God ! " 
 The ruthless mocker said ; 
 
 But Thou, O Father, wilt lift up 
 Thy Son's Anointed Head. 
 
 His soul He now consigns 
 To Thy Paternal care. 
 And Thou in highest heaven hast heard 
 His commendation-prayer. 
 
 So Jesus laid Him down 
 To sleep in Joseph's grave ; 
 A little while, and He will rise 
 A Victor strong to save. 
 
 Salvation to our God, 
 No other name we know 
 \N\yo lifts in heaven a Piercfed Hand 
 To bless His Church below. 
 
PSALM IL— Verses i, z, 6, 7, 8. 
 
 Easter-tide. 
 
 GAINST the Lord's Anointed, 
 
 Against our holy King, 
 The heathen and the people 
 Their furious counsel bring. 
 Against the Holy Jesus 
 
 Uplift an impious hand, 
 False Pilate with his soldiers, 
 And Herod with his band. 
 
 But He in Sion's city 
 
 Shall sit in royal state. 
 Enthroned by God the Father, 
 
 The Only Potentate ! 
 Then Herod from his palace, 
 
 And Pilate from his hall. 
 Shall bow the knee to Jesus, 
 
 And own Him Lord of alL 
 
 To-day, through heathen kingdoms, 
 
 The heritage He won. 
 Let heralds of salvation 
 
 With gospel-tidings run : 
 While Heaven and Earth adore Him, 
 
 From that new Tomb new-bom, 
 The Son of God, Begotten 
 
 This holy Easter morn. 
 
PSALM CXXVL— Verses 3, 4, 5, 6, 7. 
 
 Ascension-tide. 
 
 RE AT things for them already," 
 
 We hear the heathen say ; 
 " Great things for us already," 
 Our lips repeat to-day : 
 Great things for us and glorious 
 
 Hath God Incarnate done ; 
 And manifold the Graces 
 By His Ascension won. 
 
 As rivers from high mountains 
 
 Released from icy chain 
 Roll down refreshing fountains 
 
 Through thirsty southern plain : 
 Descend, O Lord ; come quickly 
 
 To set Thy people free, 
 That all who mourn in Sion 
 
 May share like joy with Thee. 
 
 For he who now goes weeping 
 
 And sowing precious grain, 
 May sleep before the reaping ; 
 
 But he shall wake again, 
 And doubtless come rejoicing 
 
 With golden harvest-store, 
 And pile his sheaves of glory 
 
 On heaven's garner-floor. 
 13 
 
THE TRANSFIGURATION. 
 
 AUGUST SIXTH. 
 
 ' With Him in the Holy Mount." 
 
 NE Tabernacle, Lord, not three. 
 
 Wherein Thou dwellest still. 
 Descending, out of heaven we see 
 Upon Thy holy Hill ; 
 Our covert from the noontide heat, 
 
 Our refuge from the cold, 
 Where brethren in the body greet 
 The hero-saints of old. 
 
 What if the crowd beneath the Mount 
 
 With hard unloving eyes 
 For visionary fables count 
 
 The Mysteries we prize ; 
 What if Thy beauty, far away 
 
 Through " earth-born " vapours seen. 
 Be slighted as the mean array 
 
 That marks the Nazarene ? 
 
THE TRANSFIGURATION. 179 
 
 Help us to climb in mind and heart 
 
 Where stood Thy favoured Three, 
 For there " we know Thee who Thou art," 
 
 And all Thy glory see : 
 By faith we see Thy Vesture bright 
 
 With more than mortal grace. 
 And all the Godhead's Living Light 
 
 Is radiant in Thy Face. 
 
 'Tis thus our Hope that passeth hope 
 
 Has " sure and certain '' grown. 
 To soar beyond Mount Tabor's slope 
 
 Transfigured to Thy Throne ; 
 Where Moses meek, EUas strong, 
 
 With Peter, John, and James, 
 Extol in spiritual song 
 
 The Name above all names. 
 
 ^ 
 
 13* 
 
A LITERAL TRANSLATION FROM THE LATIN. 
 
 " VENI, CREATOR SPIRITUS." 
 
 SPIRIT, O Creator, come, 
 Visit the minds of us Thine own ; 
 Fill with celestial Grace the breasts 
 Thou didst Thyself create. 
 
 Thou who art called the Paraclete, 
 The Gift of Deity Most High, 
 The Living Fount, the Fire, the Love, 
 The Unction spiritual. 
 
 Thou in Thine office sevenfold, 
 
 The Finger Thou of God's Right Hand, 
 
 The Father's solemn Promise Thou, 
 
 Enriching tongues with speech. 
 
 Our senses brighten with Thy Light, 
 Thy Love within our hearts outpour. 
 Confirm with lasting energy 
 
 Our bodies weaknesses. 
 
''VENl, CREATOR SPIRITUS." i8i 
 
 Drive farther off the enemy, 
 And give us peace henceforth for aye, 
 Through Thee our Guide preventing thus 
 May we escape all harm. 
 
 Enable us through Thee to know 
 The Father, and to know the Son, 
 And Thee, the Spirit, to believe 
 Of Both for evermore. 
 
 Praise to the Father with the Son, 
 Likewise to Holy Paraclete, 
 And let the Son send unto us 
 
 The Holy Spirit's Boon. 
 
 Amen. 
 
FOR THE TWENTY-FIFTH SUNDAY AFTER 
 TRINITY. 
 
 " I will raise unto David a righteous branch." 
 
 UDA'S majestic tree 
 
 Was crumbling down to earth, 
 When David's Righteous Branch arose 
 To give it second birth ; 
 Joseph's increasing bough 
 Was trembling to its fall, 
 When David's Righteous Branch outspread 
 It's tendrils o'er the wall. 
 
 A barrier built between 
 
 Made Jew and Gentile twain, 
 Till Christ, our Branch, o'ershadowing both, 
 
 United them again. 
 
 Now strife the Fold within 
 
 Disturbs our holy calm. 
 Dear Healing Branch, rain far and near 
 
 Thy reconciling balm. 
 
2sTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 183 
 
 O wonder-working Branch, 
 
 In whom all virtues meet, 
 Float crosswise over Mara's wave 
 
 Till bitter turn to sweet : 
 
 Be Thou our sheltering Branch 
 
 When evil tempests lower. 
 And keep our undefended heads 
 
 In Persecution's hour. 
 
 The noon-tide sun is fierce, 
 
 We faint amid the waste ; 
 Vine-branch of Eshcol, yield Thy Fruit 
 
 Refreshing to our taste : 
 
 And bid our gladdened hearts 
 
 Anticipate that shore. 
 Where we shall sit with great delight 
 
 And leave Thy shade no more. 
 
THE HOLY EUCHARIST. 
 
 "Ye do shew the Lord's death." 
 
 HAT offering dare we sinners lay 
 
 Before Thee, Holy God, 
 Who knowest every wicked way 
 Our erring feet have trod ? 
 
 A New and Living Sacrifice 
 Which Thou wilt not disown, 
 
 A Victim of uncounted price. 
 We show before Thy Throne. 
 
 And for the sake of His pure Flesh, 
 Of His dear Blood, we pray ; 
 
 Receive and comfort us afresh. 
 Take all our sins away. 
 
 Beside Thy Son's Great Sacrifice 
 We place our worthless part, 
 
 Thus hoping Thou wilt not despise 
 A broken, contrite heart. 
 
THE HOLY EUCHARIST. 
 
 " Comfortable Words." 
 
 INNERS escaping the shadow of death, 
 Listen to Jesus, what sweet words He saith : 
 " Come, ye disconsolate, lean on My Breast, 
 Weary one, laden one, I am thy Rest 
 
 " Know that the Sovereign Creator of all, 
 Pitying His creatures condemned by the Fall, 
 Gave His Son Only-Begotten to die. 
 Sinner, believest thou ? Lo, it is I ! " 
 
 Sinners escaping the shadow of death. 
 Listen to holy Paul, hear what he saith : 
 " Faithful the saying is, faithful and true, 
 Jesus Christ Crucified died to save you." 
 
 Sinners escaping the shadow of death. 
 Hear the belovfed John, hear what he saith : 
 " Jesus our Advocate, next to the Throne, 
 Ransoming souls from death, offers His own." 
 
 Threefold the witness, the comfort is one : 
 Here He bestows what His Suffering won ; 
 He is the Victim, and He is the Priest, 
 His the Voice bidding you. Come to the Feast. 
 
PSALM IV. 
 
 VERSES 6, 7, 8, 9. 
 
 The Holy Eucharist. 
 
 HILE this world vainly asks for good, 
 Give us, O Lord, Thy Flesh, Thy Blood, 
 'Tis "good for us to" rest awhile 
 Beneath the comfort of Thy smile. 
 
 Send down The Spirit, Oil Divine, 
 To sanctify this Bread and Wine, 
 While duly we, with gladdened eyes. 
 Present our frequent Sacrifice. 
 
 And when all earthly good is past, 
 When we have eat and drunk our last. 
 Do Thou these souls and bodies keep 
 In peace and safety while we sleep. 
 
THE CONSECRATION OF THE HOLY 
 EUCHARIST. 
 
 " Eye hath not seen nor ear heard." 
 
 IKE the sunbeams glowing 
 
 Silently around, 
 Is Thy Coming, Jesu j 
 For we hear no sound : 
 Light of Light, drive far away 
 Darkness from our souls to-day. 
 
 Like the rose's perfume 
 
 In some woodland grot. 
 Thou art Present, Jesu, 
 Though we see Thee not : 
 Rose of Sharon, Heart of Love, 
 Let us all Thy Sweetness prove. 
 
 Whom the ear perceives not. 
 
 Eye can never trace, 
 Sinful men repenting 
 Tremblingly embrace : 
 Humble faith and holy fear 
 Hear Thee, see Thee, feel Thee near. 
 
i88 
 
 SACRED POEMS. 
 
 Dearest Lord, Who bought us, 
 
 Hearts within us bum 
 When, as Thou hast taught us. 
 We Thyself discern : 
 Yet we seek one higher grace, 
 To behold Thee face to face. 
 
translated from the latin, with a 
 euchariStic intention. 
 
 "JESU DULCIS MEMORIA." 
 
 ESUS in thought alone to greet, 
 Attunes the heart to joyful song, 
 But pleasures more than honey sweet, 
 Around a Present Saviour throng. 
 
 How softly flows the sacred strain, 
 What soothing accents charm the ear, 
 How dear the thoughts we entertain, 
 When Jesus, God's own Son, is near ! 
 
 O Jesu, hope of mourners meek ; 
 To prayer of penitents how kind ! 
 How good Thou art to all who seek ! 
 But what art Thou to those who find ? 
 
 No tongue is able to declare. 
 No ready-writer's pen can show, 
 But faithful souls who taste Him there 
 Alone the love of Jesus know. 
 
igo SACRED POEMS. 
 
 O Jesu, wonder-working King, 
 O Victor noble in Thy might, 
 O Sweetness past all uttering, 
 O perfect Fountain of Delight ! 
 
 Abide with us, Good Lord, we pray. 
 In fulness of Thy grace divine, 
 And when dark night is chased by day. 
 Bring forth Thy sweetest Bread and Wine. 
 
 In Thee, O Lord, we make our boast. 
 The Virgin- Mother's Virgin Son, 
 With Father and with Holy Ghost, 
 While never-ending ages run. 
 
 Amen. 
 

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 PSALM XXIII. 
 The Holy Eucharist. 
 
 ESU, Good Shepherd, Thou art all 
 
 Thy faithful people need, 
 To raise us kindly when we fall, 
 To comfort and to feed. 
 
 In life Thou art a present aid ; 
 
 In death so vast Thy grace ; 
 Thy Chastisement our peace is made, 
 
 Thy Cross our resting-place. 
 
 This Table Thy dear Hand has spread. 
 Our safeguard from the foe ; 
 
 Here the anointing grace is shed. 
 Here blessings overflow ; 
 
 Here daily is our strength renewed, 
 
 And all our sins forgiven, 
 Until we feast on angels' food, 
 
 And drink the cup of heaven. 
 
THE HOLY EUCHARIST AT PASSION-TIDE. 
 
 ■ On either side of the river was there the tree of Ufe." 
 
 AIL ! Tree of Life, in beauty bending. 
 Fair Queen of Eden's wood, 
 To our 'first father's hand extending 
 Thy sweet mysterious food : 
 Too soon the guilt of his ti-ansgression 
 
 Unsheathed a vengeful brand, 
 To whirl around Life's lost possession 
 And flame on every hand. 
 
 Hail ! Tree of Death, on Calvary planted, 
 
 Accursfed, blessfed Tree ; 
 To thy twin arms and stem 'twas granted 
 
 New Tree of Life to be ! 
 Such Red Fruit hangeth on thy branches, 
 
 All bruised by nail and thorn. 
 That three long hours the sunlight blanches 
 
 Earth's pitying heart is torn. 
 
 The Cherub sword, no longer glowing, 
 Was quenched in that full Tide 
 
 Of mingled Blood and Water flowing 
 From Jesus' gracious Side. 
 
, E UCHARIST A T PASSION-TIDE. 1 93 
 
 So " guilty souls by thousands stealing " 
 
 Around thy sacred stem, 
 Pluck off the Fruit and Leaves of healing 
 
 Their Lord redeemed for them. 
 
 Hail ! Sacrament of grace, abiding 
 
 In Holy Church's shrine ; 
 Hail ! nobler Tree of Life, dividing 
 
 Refreshment all divine ! 
 The Cup is blessed ; the Bread is broken; 
 
 We kneel with bated breath, 
 And weep to view each awful token 
 
 From Calvary's Tree of Death. 
 
 We know the Tree of Life is springing 
 
 On that fair River-bank, 
 Where sit the happy Angels singing, 
 
 Each in his shining rank ; 
 For this immortal Fruit partaking, 
 
 We learn their grand refrain, 
 And leave our " de profundis " waking 
 
 That " in excelsis " strain. 
 
 Hark ! Holy Church below rejoices 
 
 With Heaven's high company, 
 Angelic, Archangelic voices. 
 
 Our God to magnify ; 
 All chanting. Holy, Holy, Holy, 
 
 To Father and to Son 
 And Blessfed Spirit, worshipped solely, 
 
 Three Persons, Godhead One. Amen. 
 
 14 
 
FOR A SCHOOL SERMON IN A MINING 
 DISTRICT. 
 
 ' If a man love Me, he will keep My words : and My Father will love 
 him, and We will come unto him, and make Our abode with him.'' 
 
 ORD, Thy lambs, to be defended 
 From the serpent's guile, 
 To Thy Church Thou hast commended 
 By Thy voice and smile ; 
 Hence to-day Thy Temple filling, 
 Lo, our willing 
 Alms we pile. 
 
 Thou the Donor art, our Father, 
 
 Thou whose Hand benign 
 Giveth all things richly : — rather 
 
 We restore Thee Thine, 
 Wealth of commerce, or dark treasure. 
 Without measure. 
 Of the mine. 
 
FOR A SCHOOL SERMON. 195 
 
 Thus in these dear children loving 
 
 Thee the children's Lord, 
 Thus for Thee our poor love proving, 
 
 Keeping thus Thy word, 
 Seek we grace all grace excelling, 
 Thy in-dwelling 
 God adored ! 
 
 O Most Merciful, who deignest 
 
 To forgive our sin. 
 And o'er souls forgiven reignest 
 
 Sweetly shrined within. 
 Such communion, ere death reach us, 
 Teach, O teach us. 
 How to win. 
 
 14* 
 
THANKSGIVING HYMN AFTER THE 
 COTTON FAMINE. 
 
 " Lo ! the winter is past ; the rain is over and gone ; the flowers 
 appear on earth ; the time of the sipging birds is come ; and the voice 
 of the turtle is heard in our land." 
 
 E who late in silent sadness 
 Desert pathways trod, 
 Utter now with voice of gladness 
 Praises to our God. 
 Now no more the land shall languish, 
 Smit with anguish, 
 'Neath the rod, 
 
 ■ 
 
 Not the mammoth engine's power. 
 
 Not the craftsman's skill, 
 Warded off in evil hour 
 Famine's deadly ill : 
 'Twas the gentle law of Jesus 
 That could ease us, 
 Warm, and fill. 
 
THANKSGIVING HYMN. 197 
 
 While our Red-rose o'er the waters 
 
 Wafts her fresh perfume, 
 Say, Lancastrian sons and daughters, 
 
 What restored the bloom ? 
 Prayer-won blessing sent from heaven, 
 Freely given 
 On the loom. 
 
 Mindful of our preservation, 
 
 Father, Saviour, King, 
 Hymns of choral adoration 
 
 In Thy courts we sing. 
 And the first-fruits of our treasure^ 
 Copious measure. 
 Gladly bring. 
 
FOR CHILDREN. 
 
 ' The children crying in the Temple, and saying Hosanna.' 
 
 OSANNA we sing, like the children dear, 
 In the olden days when the Lord lived here ; 
 He blessed little children and smiled on them, 
 While they chanted His praise in Jerusalem. 
 
 Alleluia we sing, like the children bright. 
 With their harps of gold and their raiment white, 
 As they follow their Shepherd with loving eyes 
 Thro' the beautiful valleys of Paradise. 
 
 Hosanna we sing, for He bends His ear 
 And rejoices the hymns of His own to hear ; 
 And we know His heart will never wax cold 
 To the lambs that He feeds in His earthly fold. 
 
 Alleluia we sing, in the church we love. 
 Alleluia resounds in the church above ; 
 To thy little ones, Lord, may such grace be given 
 That we lose not our part in the song of Heaven. 
 
 Amen. 
 
 Note. — The copyright of this hymn belongs to the proprietors 
 of " Hymns Ancient and Modem," through whose courtesy it is here in- 
 serted by the Author. 
 
CONFIRMATION. 
 
 "O mulier magna est fides tua.'' 
 
 EHOLD these children, Gracious Lord, 
 New-born of Water and the Word, 
 Whom Holy Church, our Mother fair. 
 To Thee the heavenly Bridegroom bare. 
 
 For Thou of old didst not disown 
 A heathen mother's plaintive moan; 
 Although Thy mercy tarried long. 
 She conquered, for her faith was strong. 
 
 Regard with no less gracious eyes 
 Our faithful Mother's tears and cries ; 
 For these, Thine own, she kneels to pray 
 That Thou wilt keep them Thine alway. 
 
 Thine by a fixed unswerving faith. 
 Thine by a love more strong than death, 
 Thine own while earthly life is given, 
 Thine own in endless life of Heaven. 
 
 Amen. 
 
PSALM CXXVIII. 
 
 (Elegiac.) 
 
 Holy Matrimony. 
 
 ' LESSED art thou that obeyest the Lord, and 
 walkest uprightly, 
 Keeping His laws divine, fearing to err from 
 His ways ; 
 
 Thou in the work of thy hands shalt rejoice, and plenti- 
 ful earnings, 
 Com and oil and wine gather in prosperous days. 
 
 See the luxuriant vine that embraces the wall of thy 
 dwelling, 
 Thus shall thine own good wife cleave to thee, fruitful 
 and fair; 
 Like the rich branches of olive, the evergreen pride of 
 the garden. 
 Children thy bread and the rife cup of thy blessing 
 shall share. 
 
 Thou shalt be blessed of God out of Sion, His own 
 habitation, 
 Joying in all her weal, seeing her beauty increase ; 
 
PSALM CXXVIII. 201 
 
 Yea, thou shall see thy sons of the third and fourth gene- 
 ration, 
 And upon Israel His Benediction of Peace. 
 
 Glory, O Father, to Thee, and Glory to Thee. O Redeemer; 
 
 Glory, O Holy One, Spirit Eternal to Thee; 
 Thine was the glory of old ere heaven and earth were 
 created. 
 
 Thine is the glory alone. Thine shall it evermore be. 
 
THE LAST HYMN IN A CHURCH TO BE 
 REBUILT. 
 
 LITTLE while, and then, O Lord, 
 
 Our worship here must cease ; 
 We but await the parting Word 
 That bids us go in peace. 
 In peace ! but, ah, with fond regret 
 
 We leave the ancient fane 
 Where we and our forefathers met 
 In times of joy and pain. 
 
 Thus David passed o'er Kedron's brook, 
 
 Still weeping as he went, 
 And turning still a wistful look 
 
 On Sion's shining tent 
 Ah, must this House lie desolate, 
 
 With no adoring throng. 
 No matin-bell, no open gate ? 
 
 How long, O Lord, how long? 
 
 Send down the spirit from above 
 
 That moved our sires of old 
 To offer with a liberal love 
 
 Their silver and their gold. 
 So we, beholding with our eyes 
 
 The beauty of Thy shrine, 
 Will bring our thankful sacrifice ; 
 
 All glory, Lord, be Thine. Amen. 
 
FOR THE OPENING OF A SCHOOL-HOUSE. 
 
 JOME, let us join, in loud acclaim, our voices 
 one and all, 
 To grace with strains of holy joy this opening 
 Festival, 
 
 To praise the Giver of all Good, by whose benignant aid 
 And gracious Benediction our Foundation-stone was laid. 
 
 Praise Him, who over all our plan stretched out His Hand 
 
 to bless. 
 Shielded our labourers from harm, and gave their work 
 
 success. 
 Until we " brought the Head-stone forth," and after many 
 
 days 
 Now keep our Dedication Feast : to God be all the 
 • praise ! 
 
 Praise Him, ye parents, grateful songs ye well may sing 
 
 for this. 
 The answer to your frequent prayer, the earnest of your 
 
 bliss — 
 To see your sons like comely plants, your daughters pure 
 
 and fair, 
 Like polished comers which adorn our Holy Homes of 
 
 Prayer. 
 
204 SACRED POEMS. 
 
 Sing out, ye children, evermore your hymns shall here 
 
 resound, 
 Your jubilant hosannas from this lofty roof rebound ; 
 Nay, pierce the roof, and cleave the sky, and circle round 
 
 the throne 
 The incense of the fresh young heart which God delights 
 
 to own. 
 
 Good Christians, mingled with your praise let supplication 
 rise. 
 
 That He who grew in Wisdom, yet was God the only- 
 Wise, 
 
 May deign to bless this House, for which we laud His 
 name to-day, 
 
 In generations yet to come, when we have passed away. 
 
 Here, hungering after righteousness, may lowly scholars 
 
 meet; 
 Here teachers, taught by God Himself, sit down at Jesu's 
 
 feet. 
 And glorify with worthier praise the Father and the Son, 
 To Whom, with Holy Paraclete, be ceaseless worship done. 
 
 Amen. 
 
EUCHARISTIC LITANY. 
 
 ESU, unto Thee we call, 
 See us at Thy footstool fall, 
 Hear us now, and save us all, 
 Jesu, Lord, have mercy. 
 
 Very God, indeed Thou art, 
 Yet within Thy Sacred Heart 
 All Thy faithful have a part, 
 
 Jesu, Lord, have mercy. 
 
 Very Man, who drawest nigh 
 Full of tender sympathy. 
 Wiping tears from every eye, 
 
 Jesu, Lord, have mercy. 
 
 Saviour, who hast deigned to be 
 One with sinful man, that we 
 May be ever one with Thee, 
 
 Jesu, Lord, have mercy. 
 
 Sweetest Manna, daily given, 
 Of eternal life the leaven, 
 Bread of God, come dowri from heaven, 
 Jesu, Lord, have mercy. 
 
2o6 SACRED POEMS. 
 
 O when we ourselves present, 
 Low in adoration bent, 
 At Thy Holy Sacrament, 
 
 Jesu, Lord,. have mercy. 
 
 From an unbelieving soul. 
 Hard, impatient of control. 
 Save, for Thou canst make us whole, 
 Save us, Holy Jesu. 
 
 From the hypocrite's offence. 
 From presumption and pretence, 
 Coldness and irreverence. 
 Save us, Holy Jesu. 
 
 By Thy Precious Life-Blood spilt 
 To atone for all our guilt 
 (Thou canst save us, and Thou wilt), 
 Save us. Holy Jesu. 
 
 By Thy Royal Majesty, 
 By Thine intercession-cry. 
 By Thine Offering on high. 
 Save us. Holy Jesu. 
 
 By Thy love, and by Thy power. 
 By the Spirit's seven-fold dower. 
 By Thine own sweet Presence-hour, 
 Save us. Holy Jesu. 
 
 Jesu, hanging on the Rood, 
 Jesu, with all might endued, 
 Jesu, given to be our food. 
 Save us. Holy Jesu. 
 
EUCHARISTIC LITANY. 207 
 
 Bless Thy Holy Church, and keep, 
 In Thy pastures large and deep. 
 All Thy shepherds, lambs, and sheep. 
 Hear us, O good Jesu. 
 
 Visit all who worship here, 
 Keep them in Thy holy fear ; 
 When they call upon Thee, hear, 
 Hear us, O good Jesu. 
 
 Bless Thy people, bless Thy priest 
 In the Eucharistic Feast, 
 Bless the greatest and the least. 
 Hear us, O good Jesu. 
 
 Help all lowly souls who fear, 
 Yet desire to meet Thee here. 
 Bid, O bid them all draw near. 
 Hear us, O good Jesu. 
 
 Break asunder every chain. 
 Bring all wanderers back again. 
 Ere repentance be in vain. 
 
 Hear us, O good Jesu. 
 
 Pardon all our sinful past. 
 Let Thy mercy hold us fast, 
 Till we see Thy face at last, 
 Hear us, O good Jesu. 
 
 While we live, not we but Thou 
 Live and rule within us now, 
 To Thy Holy Will we bow, 
 
 Hear us, O good Jesu. 
 
 Amen. 
 
"THREE IN ONE AND ONE IN THREE."" 
 
 NA Trina Deltas, 
 Ponto, terris, imperas, 
 Sacrum tamen audias 
 Melos cantuum. 
 
 Lux de Luce, cum dies 
 Redit, nos illumines, 
 Atque caritatis des 
 
 Almse balsamum. 
 
 Lux de Luce, vespere . 
 Absolutos scelere 
 Impleat, Custode Te, 
 Pax ccelestium. 
 
 Una Trina Deltas, 
 Culta hie per tenebras, 
 Spem foveraus ferre eras 
 
 Sceptrum palmeum. 
 
 " Hymns Ancient and Modem," 163. 
 
"PILGRIMS OF THE NIGHT."' 
 
 OR meum, fertur cantus angelorum 
 Per prata, littus per undisonum, 
 Res valdb dulcis hunc inspirat chorum, 
 Vita futura, scelus mortuum ! 
 
 Angeli Jesfis 
 
 Lucis soboles 
 
 Cantu salutant 
 
 Nocturnes exsules. 
 
 Vadimus ultrb carmen auscultantes : 
 " Fessi venite : Jesus invitat ; " 
 Et per tenebras gratb resonantes 
 Vocis dulcedo donium nos vocat. 
 Angeli Jesus. 
 
 Procul serarum instar campanarum 
 TerrH marique sonat, "Jesus sum ; " 
 Teque clam quserunt mille animarum, 
 Pastor benigne, poenitentium. 
 Angeli Jesfls. 
 
 ■ " Hymns Ancient and Modem," 223. 
 
 IS 
 
o SACRED FOE MS. 
 
 Veniet quies : longum li cet iter ; 
 Sol orietur, fugietque nox : 
 Via fessorum osculis finitur, 
 Domusque cceli recludetur mox ! 
 Angeli Jesus. 
 
 Tibi solatrix Fides sit, lucendo/ 
 Ut super undis luna pelagi ; 
 Mentem dejectam toUes audiendo 
 Quanto te cantu vocent Angeli. 
 Angeli Jesus. 
 
 Fragmenta Laudis superae canatis, 
 Angeli, vestras per excubias ; 
 Nos laboramus, donee flendi satis 
 Noctemque mundi vincet caritas. 
 Angeli Jesiis. 
 
 Stanza not printed in " Hymns Ancient and Modem: " — 
 
 Cheer up, my soul ! Faith's moonbeams softly glisten 
 
 Upon the breast of life's most troubled sea, 
 
 And it will cheer thy drooping heart to listen 
 
 To those brave songs which Angels mean for thee. 
 
SAFE IN THE ARMS OF JESUS. 
 
 N amplexu lesus, 
 
 Sinu tutum Benigno, 
 Ejus amore tegendum 
 Spiritum meum resigno. 
 En, voces Angelorum 
 
 Campos super nitentes 
 Super iaspidis mare 
 Transeunt ad me canentes. 
 
 In amplexu lesfls 
 
 Careo curis molestis, , 
 Mundi tentatione 
 
 Insidiisque scelestis : 
 Nulla doloris rubigo, 
 
 Nee locus hie dufeitandi, 
 Quid superest? Brevis hora 
 
 Pugnandi — ^lacrymandi. 
 
 lesu, carum Tutamen, 
 
 Me propter as Crucifixus ! 
 In Te Rupe Saeculorum 
 
 Spiritus erit innixus. 
 Hie patienter manebit, 
 
 Nocte donee fugiente, 
 Crastina lux exhibebit 
 
 Littore se splendente. 
 IS* 
 
" ROCK OF AGES, CLEFT FOR ME." ^ 
 
 OCK of Ages, cleft for me. 
 Let me hide myself in Thee ; 
 Let the water and the blood, 
 From Thy wounded side which 
 flowed, 
 Be of sin the double cure, 
 Save from wrath and make me pure. 
 
 " Nothing in my hand I bring. 
 Simply to Thy Cross I cling ; 
 Could my tears for ever flow. 
 Could my zeal no languor know. 
 All for sin could not atone. 
 Thou must save and Thou alone. 
 
 " While I draw this fleeting breath. 
 When mine eyelids close in death, 
 When I rise to worlds unknown. 
 See Thee on Thy judgment throne, 
 Rock of Ages, cleft for me. 
 Let me hide myself in Thee." 
 
 'Hymns Ancient and Modem," 150, former edition. 
 
S^CULORUM, PRO ME FISSA. 
 
 ^CULORUM, pro me fissa, 
 Me xecondas, Rupes scissa, 
 Latere ex vulnerato 
 Duplex flumen me lavato ; 
 Sanguinis, absolvat reum, 
 Aquffi, mundet pectus meum. 
 
 Adsum, nil in manu ferens, 
 Cruci Tube totus h»rens ; 
 Si nee modus asset flendi, 
 Si nee languor obsequendi ; 
 Heee non possent expiare ; 
 Tuum, Tuum est Salvare. 
 
 Vitse spiritum trahendo, 
 Morte palpebras claudendo, 
 Orbes ad novos surgentem, 
 Judicemque Te videntem ; 
 Sseculorum, pro me fissa, 
 Me recondas, Rupes scissa ! 
 
"ALL CREATION GROANS AND TRAVAILS."' 
 
 >OTA creatura gemit : Deus audies 
 gementem ; 
 Nam totius creaturse confitemur Te 
 potentem. 
 
 Pigeat Te tot insontes cum mortalibus dolere : 
 
 Ob peccata cadunt nostra ; fas per preces sit valere. 
 
 Intuere, miserescens Patriae calamitatis, 
 
 Angeloque Mortis dicens : " Siste manum : nunc est satis." 
 
 Fundos, valles, atque prata morbis libera molestis ; 
 Procul arvis quse dedisti lacrymosa cedat pestis. 
 
 At memento, Deo Nate, animo benigniore 
 Tua factos in figura, Tuo salvatos cruore. 
 
 Annuas precationi, thuris instar redolentis. 
 
 In diebus quadraginta usque Ccelos ascendentis : 
 
 Matribus pro viduatis, proque liberorum chore, 
 Ope speque destitutis, ni peperceris thesauro. 
 
 Ut, Te dum quotidiano cantu vocat grex tuorum, 
 Greges nostri mille decem gignant in viis agnomm ; 
 
 Ut bos fortis ad laborem nil vietum extimescat ; 
 Sileatque vox querentis : atque lues evanescat. 
 
 Desque servis post abstersas huj.us lacrymas setatis, 
 Trinitas .Sterna, Tuae portionem Civitatis. 
 
 '"Hymns Ancient and Modern," 374, former edition. 
 
' SWEET THE MOMENTS, RICH IN BLESSING." > 
 
 ER beatae dukes horas 
 Juxta Crucem, dum divinge 
 Potior in Salvatore 
 Vitae, pads, medicinae. 
 
 Pronus hie cruentis cemo 
 Stellis Gratiam fluentem, 
 Meque aspersum cum ^terno 
 Pace stabili jungentem. 
 
 O beatam Stationem ! 
 Subter crucem sic jacere, 
 Et commiserationem 
 Ore languido videre. 
 
 Domine, teneto gratum 
 Cor Te semper contemplando, 
 Dum tuebor invelatum 
 Plenum Poculum gustando. 
 
 ' "Hymns Ancient and Modern," log. 
 
JERUSALEM, MY HAPPY HOME. 
 A Song by F. B. P. 
 
 [From Manuscript in the British Museum.) 
 
 ERUSALEM, my happy home, when shall I come 
 
 to thee? 
 When shall my ~ sorrows have an end? thy joys 
 
 when shall I see ? 
 
 O happy harbour of the saints, O sweet and pleasant soil. 
 In thee no sorrow may be found, no grief, no care, no toil ! 
 
 In thee no sickness may be seen, no hurt, no ache, no sore ; 
 There is no death, no ugly devil, but Life for evermore. 
 
 No dampish mist is seen in thee, no cold nor darksome night ; 
 There every soul shines as the sun, there God Himself gives light. 
 
 There lust and lucre cannot dwell, there envy bears no sway ; 
 There is no hunger, heat, nor cold, but pleasure every way. 
 
 Jerusalem ! Jerusalem ! God grant I once may see 
 Thy endless joys, and of the same partaker aye to be ! 
 
O DOMUS, HIERUSALEM. 
 
 IDEM LATINE REDDITUM. 
 
 DOMUS, Hierusalem ! beata, 
 
 quando te 
 Licebit, infortuniis finitis, 
 
 cemere ? 
 
 Sanctorum felix static, amabilis recessus. 
 Nemo in te sollicitus, nee tristis, nee defessus ! 
 
 Non multitude vulnemm, morborum, aut dolorum. 
 Nee mors, nee iste Sathanas ; sed vita sseculorum ! 
 
 Nee nubes tibi humida, nee atra nox impendet, 
 Sed saneti pares solibus, sed Deus Ipse splendet. 
 
 Nee livor seeptrum retinet, nee luerum, nee libido, 
 Non fames, sitis, frigus, at voluptas ciiique fido. 
 
 Hientsalem ! Hierusalem ! ah, utinam tuorum 
 Speetator atque particeps nune fiam gaudiorum ! 
 
2i8 SACRED POEMS. 
 
 Thy walls are made of precious stones, thy bulwarks diamonds 
 
 square ; 
 Thy gates are of right orient pearl, exceeding rich and rare. 
 
 Thy turrets and thy pinnacles with carbuncles do shine ; 
 
 Thy very streets are paved with gold, surpassing clear and fine. 
 
 Thy houses are of ivory, thy windows crystal clear ; 
 
 Thy tiles are made of beaten gold — O God, that I were there ! 
 
 Within thy gates no thing doth come that is not passing clean ; 
 No spider's web, no dirt, no dust, no filth may there be seen. 
 
 Ah, my sweet home, Jerusalem, would God I were in thee ! 
 Would God my woes were at an end, thy joys that I might see ! 
 
 Thy saints are crowned with glory great, they see God face to face; 
 They triumph still, they still rejoice; most happy is their case! 
 
 We that are here in banishment continually do moan ; 
 We sigh and sob, we weep and wail, perpetually we groan. 
 
 Our sweet is mixed with bitter gall, our pleasure is but pain ; 
 Our joys scarce last the looking on, our sorrows still remain. 
 
 But there they live in such delight, such pleasure, and such play, 
 As that to them a thousand years doth seem as yesterday. 
 
 The vineyards and thy orchards are most beautiful and fair. 
 Full furnishfed with trees and fruits exceeding rich and rare. 
 
 Thy gardens and thy gallant walks continually are green; 
 There grow such sweet and pleasant flowers as nowhere else 
 are seen. 
 
DOMUS, HIERUSALEM. 219 
 
 Gemmata lucent maenia lapidibus quadratis, 
 Ex margeritis ostia sub sole comparatis. 
 
 Corona summa turrium carbunculis clarescit, 
 Munitse auro platese, cui lumen irridescit. 
 
 CEdes eburnse, crystallo fenestrse expolit'se, 
 Auro retuso tegulae : — me taedet hujus vitse ! 
 
 Nil, nisi quod purissimum, admittunt intra portas, 
 Non lutum, non araneas illuvie exortas. 
 
 Ah, domus, Hierusalem, jucunda, utiham, 
 Finitis his doloribus, te tandem videam. 
 
 Deum beati gloria tuentur invelatum, 
 
 Gaudent, triumphant jugiter : ah, casum fortunatum ! 
 
 At nos telluris exsules continue dolemus, 
 Perpetuis suspiriis singultibusque flemus. 
 
 Commista nostro gaudio pars fellis est amari ; 
 Dum intuemur vanuit Quid restat ? Lacrymari. 
 
 Sed tantis illic vivitur deliciis, amore, 
 
 Ut transeat millennium, hesternse velut horae. 
 
 PulcherriniEe sunt vinese, sunt hortuli formosi, 
 Qua crebrse virent arbores fhictusque pretiosi. 
 
 Ex ordinatis saltibus non decidunt capilli. 
 Nee serta rubent alibi, nee flores sicut illi. 
 
2 20 SACRED POEMS. 
 
 There nectar and ambrosia flow : there musk and civet sweet ; 
 There many a fair and dainty drug are trodden under feet. 
 
 There cinnamon, there sugar grow, there nard and balm abound : 
 What tongue can tell or heart containthe joys that there are found? 
 
 Quite through the streets, with silver sound, the flood of life 
 
 doth flow; 
 Upon whose banks, on every side, the Wood of Life doth grow. 
 
 There trees for evermore bear fruit and evermore do spring. 
 There evermore the angels sit and evermore do sing. 
 
 There David stands, with harp in hands, as master of the quire, 
 Ten thousand times that man were blest that might this 
 musing hear. 
 
 Our Lady sings Magnificat with tones surpassing sweet, 
 And all the virgins bear their part, sitting about her feet. 
 
 ' ' Te Deum ' ' doth Saint Ambrose sing, Saint Austin doth the like ; 
 Old Simeon and Zachary have not their songs to seek. 
 
 There Magdalene hath left her moan, and cheerfully doth sing 
 With bless-.ed Saints, whose harmony in every street doth ring. 
 
 Jerusalem, my happy home, would God I were in thee ! 
 Would God my woes were at an end, thy joys that I might see ! 
 
O DOMUS, HIERUSALEM. 2 
 
 Sunt nectar et ambrosia, sunt fmtices olentes, 
 Herbaeque magno pretio sub pedibus jacentes. 
 
 Sunt cinnamon et saccharum, opesque balsamorum, 
 Quis numeret aut sentiat delicias sanctorum ? 
 
 Per plateas vivificans susurrat aqua rite, 
 
 In cujus ripis undique frondescit Lignum Vitas. 
 
 CEternum crescunt arbores, et fructibus gravantur, 
 CEternum sedent angeli, musasque meditantur. 
 
 Stat David, manu citharam tenens, Magister Chori, 
 Beatus essem millies, si vox contigat auri. 
 
 '■^Magnificat" dulcissimo Maria fundit sono, 
 Aguntque partes virgines sedentes subter throno. 
 
 Ambrosius, Augustinus, " Te Deum" canunt duo, 
 Zacharias et Simeon utuntur cantu suo. 
 
 Relicto tandem gemitu, triumphat Magdalena, 
 Cum Sanctis, quarum vocibus est omnis via plena. 
 
 O domus, Hierusalem, beata, utinam 
 Finitis infortuniis, te laetus videam ! 
 
OVID FASTI III. 183. 
 
 VJE fuerint nostri si quaeris Regia Nati, 
 Aspice de canna straminibusque domum ; 
 In stipula placidi carpebat munera somni, 
 Et tamen ex illo venit in astra toro." 
 
 OVID'S CHRISTMAS CAROL. 
 
 (7'ranslated.) 
 
 SKEST thou what Palace Royal 
 Entertained Tke Son ? 
 See in yonder reed-thatched hovel 
 All the rest He wori. 
 In the straw He sweetly slumbered, 
 
 Yet the Babe Divine 
 Rose from such a couch to Heaven, 
 Where the stars do shine. 
 
PART III. 
 
 secular Poems. 
 
SENEX INTER FLORES. 
 
 A MONOLOGUE. 
 
 REE, shrub, and blossom, day by day 
 
 I watch them, and care for them all ; 
 It gladdens my spirit to see them gay. 
 And darkens it when they fall. 
 
 I cared but little for these sweet things 
 When the sun of my life was high ; 
 
 In the ardour of youthful imaginings 
 I heedlessly passed them by. 
 
 But in childhood I was wont to walk, 
 
 And sober my natural glee. 
 At the side of my father, by serious talk 
 
 In the garden of flower and tree. 
 
 How strange, when the body is weary and worn. 
 
 These earlier tastes should glide 
 Back to the soul, like the dew of morn 
 
 Returning at eventide ! 
 
 Not quite the same — for a saddening shade. 
 Unknown to those fresh young hours, 
 
 Has stolen in since, and overlaid 
 My love for the selfsame flowers. 
 
 New fancies too have crept into my mind ; 
 
 They seem to reason and feel ; 
 Against the roystering autumn wind 
 
 To utter their mute appeal. 
 i6 
 
226 SECULAR POEMS. 
 
 And they bless (I imagine) the faithful hand 
 That turns with compassionate touch 
 
 The spray of the fountain where they stand, 
 Should the sun burn overmuch. 
 
 And I say, " O flowers, who daily prove 
 
 My zeal to nurture and tend. 
 Surely ye render me love for love. 
 
 And reckon me for your friend. 
 
 As for the world, too fast for me 
 
 Its fashions and changes fly ; 
 The world delights in the things that be, 
 
 And I in the things gone by." 
 
 So chewing the cud of my passionate life. 
 
 Its mingled bitter and sweet, 
 The morning joy, the meridian strife, 
 
 And evening sense of defeat ; 
 
 Away to the flowers my steps I bend. 
 
 To the flowers I open my mind. 
 And evermore in each listening friend 
 
 A delicate sympathy find. 
 
 If I tell a love-story, the bower is husht. 
 
 Then amorous sighs prevail ; 
 The rose's cheek is more rosily flusht, 
 
 The passionate lily more pale ; 
 
 The warm-hearted sunflower, moved by my speech, 
 
 Forgets to worship the sun ; 
 The briony, ceasing her rings to upreach, 
 
 Bends down from the heights she has wen ; 
 
SENEX INTER FLORES. 227 
 
 Scarce the campanula calms her bells, 
 
 All tremulous with emotion ; 
 The breast of my " love-lies-bleeding " swells 
 
 With a rapture of self-devotion; 
 
 If the " early-closers " unshuttered keep 
 
 Their stores, 'tis not for the bees — 
 Those murmuring customers all are asleep, 
 
 Not a hum, not a buzz, on the breeze. 
 
 But when the crown of my woes I tell. 
 And my green leaf changed to sere ; 
 
 From the depth of many a sensitive cell 
 Distilleth a diamond tear ; 
 
 And rustling thuribles wave around 
 
 Their multiplied fumes, to steep 
 In anodyne the re-opened wound. 
 
 And to charm the pain asleep. 
 
 Nodding they listen ; and then in turn 
 
 My yearning spirit appease 
 With lessons intelligent flowers learn 
 
 From natural harmonies ; 
 
 In tempest, and in thunder shocks. 
 
 No less than in sun and rain, 
 That this previous life is a paradox 
 
 That the after life will explain. 
 
 When pleasure and pain will be found combined. 
 
 Like shadow and light, in the plan 
 By the hand of a merciful God designed. 
 
 For the final perfection of man. 
 r6* 
 
ODE TO A LANCASHIRE SKYLARK. 
 
 TT^ OLIAN harp, not seen but heard, 
 ILL My blessing on thee, tiny bird, 
 And on that carol, wild and free. 
 Which some good angel teacheth thee ; 
 For when the chilly mists of earth 
 
 Around me rise and roll. 
 Thy tuneful gladness gives new birth 
 To sunshine in my soul. 
 
 Long since in fairer Italy 
 
 An English poet learnt of thee ' 
 
 To utter music in a tone 
 
 As sweet and soaring as thine own ; 
 
 Of all the songs that charm Leghorn 
 
 He chose to copy thine ; 
 What wonder if in clime forlorn 
 We deem thee half divine ? 
 
 I look below, 'tis bleak and bare ; 
 No myrtle groves are waving there. 
 No fireflies flash a mazy sheen 
 About their native hedgerows green ; 
 
 ■ See Shelley's "Ode to a Skylark." 
 
ODE TO A LANCASHIRE SKYLARK. 229 
 
 I look above, and mists bespread 
 
 What else were paler blue ; ' 
 The dome that arches overhead 
 
 Is hidden from my view. 
 
 Then say what beauty moves thee thus 
 To chant thy choicest lays for us ? 
 For never more melodious rain 
 Enlivened that Italian plain 
 
 Than pours from yonder smoky cloud 
 
 Where thou thyself dost hide, 
 To flood with music sweet and loud 
 Our duller country side. 
 
 No outward beauty tunes thy part. 
 But love that sings within the heart, 
 A love, unconscious though it be. 
 For Him whose wisdom fashioned thee : 
 And love for her thy feathery mate. 
 
 Who cowers with patient breast 
 Five speckled eggs to incubate 
 Within your grassy nest 
 
 Thus am I taught to be content. 
 And blithe, where'er I pitch my tent. 
 Among soft valleys in the South, 
 Or at the sterile coalpit's mouth. 
 
 For two heart-joys to me are given 
 
 To cheer me as I roam : 
 I own a loving God in heaven, 
 On earth a loving home. 
 
COLOUR. 
 
 Copied from Naturp, December io, 1867. 
 
 SUNSET in December ! See, how fair 
 The curtains of the firmament unfold, 
 And, save the summer blaze of dazzling gold, 
 No charm is wanting there. 
 
 Shaded by shifting banks of ghostly sand 
 Unearthly gleams of emerald appear, 
 As green oasis in Sahara drear 
 
 Might mock some toil-worn band. 
 
 Isles of delicious blueness intervene, 
 A Delos each 'mid fairer Cyclades, 
 Becalmed on waveless depths of orange seas 
 
 That glow and pale between. 
 
 The earth-line mingles with a crimson mist. 
 Shaded, as toward the south it floats away, 
 To luminous purple and severer grey 
 
 By solar beams unkist 
 
 Such colours children view with loud surprise, 
 Who stare awhile the day-star in the face. 
 Then press their dazbd lids, and watch a race 
 Of suns in rainbow guise. 
 
MAXIMILIAN. 
 
 ROM West to East the rumour blast 
 Of treason and of murder past, 
 Till kindred Europe stood aghast 
 
 At slaughtered MaximiliaiL 
 
 Then Gallia laid her pageants by, 
 To weep with weeping Germany ; 
 And Britain joined the startled cry : 
 
 Alas, for Maximilian ! 
 
 Alas ! for her, who far away. 
 
 In Europe, ceased not, night and day, 
 
 To intercede, and toil, and pray 
 
 For gallant Maximilian ; - 
 
 Who meekly left her hero's side 
 
 To crave the aid by all denied. 
 
 His "poor Carlotta" — Empress— Bride— 
 
 The Bride of Maximilian. 
 
 Alas for her, if she shall know 
 In years to come how Mexico 
 Transfixed with parricidal blow 
 
 The heart of Maximilian; 
 
232 SECULAR POEMS. 
 
 If ever with unclouded eye 
 She sees the curl that used to lie 
 Above the forehead calm and high 
 
 Of knightly Maximilian. 
 
 Yet her true heart, through all its pain, 
 Would throb with queenly pride again, 
 To know that honour crowned the reign 
 
 Of peerless Maximilian. 
 
 Who scorned with summer friends to fly 
 
 Before the flag of anarchy, 
 
 Who could not conquer, but could die. 
 
 Our martyr Maximilian. 
 
 Who fearless faced the rifle ball, 
 And fell as Christian heroes fall, 
 Undaunted, and forgiving all. 
 
 The Emperor Maximilian ! 
 
 Let Lopez count his Judas gains, 
 Juarez forge his country's chains, 
 Unsullied evermore remains 
 
 The wreath of Maximilian. 
 
 Restore, ye slaves, for whom he bled, 
 The sacred ashes of the dead. 
 His fatherland were fittest bed 
 
 For Hapsburg Maximilian. 
 
THE RHONE AND THE ARVE. 
 
 I EARY at heart with the passionless rest, 
 She broke from her beautiful nurse's breast, 
 
 Fair Leman's foster-daughter ; 
 And rippled and raced to the far-stretching 
 plain, 
 Melodiously murmuring a wild refrain 
 
 That the Alpine torrents had taught her. 
 
 Floated her fleecy attire of blue 
 
 On the channel she merrily bounded through, 
 
 Fair Leman's foster-daughter. 
 And loudly she laught at the muddy brown hair 
 Of the lover who leapt from his mountain lair, 
 
 To sully her radiant water. 
 
 The Son of the Snow-white King was he, 
 And he glode from his glacier impetuously. 
 
 And shouted with glee, as he caught her, 
 That his deed of betrothal was signed long ago 
 By an icicle pen on a parchment of snow 
 
 With Leman's foster-daughter. 
 
234 SECULAR POEMS. 
 
 But she tossed her light tresses in high disdain, 
 And bade him flow up to his fountain again 
 
 Or rue the rash hour when he sought her ; 
 Was she to be bartered and bought and sold 
 By a dubious document, icy and cold. 
 
 Lake Leman's foster-daughter ? 
 
 But the roystering river of tawny hue, 
 Crept side by side with the virgin blue 
 
 Of Leman's foster-daughter ; 
 And he laught at her anger and whispered it down, 
 Till he changed her bright blue to his own muddy brown. 
 
 And sullied her radiant water. 
 
 So away to the ocean, through shadow and sun, 
 ('Tis an old, old story) the twain made one 
 
 Rolled on their mingled water; 
 But the Rhone must be washt in. the deep blue sea, 
 Ere her turbulent bosom assoilfed be 
 
 From the shame that the Arve has wrought her. 
 
 (^ 
 
TRANSLATED FROM HORACE, OD. III. i6. 
 
 TO M^CENAS. 
 
 '^^^^'^^ HE brazen tower, oak portals strong. 
 And watch-dogs baying all night long, 
 Had guarded Danae from wrong 
 
 Of lovers bold, 
 If Jove and Venus had not laught 
 At pale ACrisius and his craft. 
 And cleared a passage "fore and aft" 
 
 By showering gold. 
 Gold penetrates the thick array 
 Of hired guards, and breaks away 
 Through walls of stone, with mightier sway 
 
 Than lightning-flash. 
 An overwhelming ruin brought 
 The Argive prophet's house to nought ; 
 But gold the fatal secret bought 
 
 That caused the crasli. 
 By gold the Man of Macedon 
 Clove city gates, and, marching on, 
 All rival monarchs trampled down 
 
 Beneath his feet 
 E'en rough sea captains but await 
 Their chance to gorge the golden bait. 
 And, turning traitors to the State, 
 
 To sell the Fleet. 
 
236 SECULAR POEMS. 
 
 Cares multiply, and greed is fed 
 On growing wealth : I justly dread 
 Among the rich to lift my head, 
 
 O noble Knight ! 
 Heaven gives the most to Self denied ; 
 So from the Camp of Wealth I glide 
 Deserter-like, and join the side 
 
 Whose wants are slight. 
 Thus richer on my poor estate 
 Than if ApuUa made me great. 
 And I among my granaries sat 
 
 A needy wight. 
 Pure flows my little river-flood, 
 I own a rood or two of wood. 
 Nor trust in vain for wholesome food 
 
 My harvest-plot. 
 The Potentate whose glittering hand 
 Rules vast domains of fertile land 
 In Afric, fails to understand 
 
 My happier lot. 
 Though owning no Calabrian bees 
 No vintage mellowing on its lees. 
 In pasturing Gaul no thickening fleece 
 
 Like snowy drift. 
 Yet Want ne'er clamours at my door ; 
 And you, if asked, would give me more ; 
 But I prefer my scanty store 
 
 To stretch by thrift, 
 Than Asian plain annex to plain ; 
 For wants keep pace with human gain : 
 A bare Enough from Heaven obtain 
 
 And bless the gift 
 
OCTOBER LOQUITUR. 
 
 OT mine the luscious green of summer bowers, 
 The spring's delicious freshness is not 
 mine; 
 The swallows leave me ; and the humid' 
 flowers 
 Droop scentless in the circling year's decline. 
 
 I may not dance, for chilly airs are sighing. 
 And withered leaves impede the joyous step ; 
 
 I may not dance, while nature lies a-dying. 
 Though utter desolation is not yet. 
 
 But if I sought a garland to encircle 
 
 My thoughtful brow, what stem was ever bent 
 
 Into a chaplet, be it rose or myrtle. 
 
 More graceful than the hop festoons of Kent ? 
 
 Go, watch the swarthy vineyard-dressers muster, 
 The tendrils of their southern vine to prop. 
 
 And grant that Bacchus never ripened cluster 
 To bear the palm of beauty from the hop; 
 
238 SECULAR POEMS. 
 
 Or owned such merry pickers, bin surrounding, 
 To strip the slanting pole with busy hands ; 
 
 I little reck, their tuneful voices sounding, 
 If feathered songsters fly to brighter lands. 
 
 Brighter — and yet no pine-clad hill surpasses 
 Our English woodland, when declining day 
 
 Irradiates the manyrtinted masses 
 
 Of autumn boughs, most lovely in decay ; 
 
 Likest a life of holy resignation. 
 
 Not wildly gay, nor bathed in useless tears, 
 But smiling in untroubled contemplation 
 
 Of dying nature, and the Eternal years. 
 
THE TALKING WALNUT-TREE. 
 
 BY P. OVIDIUS NASO. 
 [Freely TraTislated.'] 
 
 " I found him garrulously given, 
 A babbler in the land." 
 
 The Talking Oak. 
 
 ' Angliacas quercus docuit me reddere voces 
 Dulce loquax : quercum voce jninore sequor.' 
 The Talking Walnut-Tree. 
 
 I. 
 
 The Walnut-Tree stateth her piteous case. 
 
 WAYSIDE Walnut-tree' am I, 
 And guiltless every whit ; 
 
 The mark of every passer-by, 
 With every missile hit. 
 
 Such punishment might overwhelm 
 A wretch condemned to die, 
 
 Should indignation seize the helm. 
 And public rage wax high. 
 
 But I of every crime stand clear; 
 
 Unless to yield in season 
 Fruit to my owner every year 
 
 Be counted for high-treason. 
 
240 SECULAR POEMS. 
 
 I've seen in happier times than these 
 
 A generous strife arise 
 Which of the fruit-producing trees 
 
 Should win the first fruit-prize. 
 
 When farmers came with festive flute 
 
 And garland in their hands, 
 To crown the gods who spread such fruit 
 
 Profusely o'er their lands. 
 
 When Bacchus saw with glad surprise 
 
 What clusters he possest, 
 And Pallas with admiring eyes 
 
 Her olive-berries prest. 
 
 And but for stout supporting prop 
 That stayed the branches under, 
 
 The too luxuriant Apple-crop 
 Had split the tree asunder. 
 
 But when we saw the barren Plane 
 Enriched with honours, more 
 
 Than any other tree could gain, 
 Whatever fruit she bore ; 
 
 We Fruit-trees (if that company 
 
 My humble self receives) 
 Began to run to wood, and try 
 
 What we could do in leaves. 
 
 Hence apples now in orchard-bower 
 
 At intervals are seen ; 
 Hence grapes are gathered small and sour, 
 
 And olives poor and lean. 
 
TBE TALKING WALNLfT-TREE. 241 
 
 II. 
 The Walnut-Tree regretteth her Fruitfulness. 
 
 O that I grew a barren root ! 
 
 Far happier iny life ! 
 A speech which, by the way, would suit 
 
 King Agamemnon's wife. 
 
 What if I told the Olive-tree 
 
 Or Vine how matters stood ? 
 Each dame would slay her progeny. 
 
 Would crush her swelling bud. 
 
 Such doleful news as this would make 
 
 The Apple and the Pear 
 Their homes within the croft forsake, 
 
 And leave their nurseries bare. 
 
 Or if I told black, white, or red, 
 
 Or variegated Cherry, 
 'Twould tremble at the words I said. 
 
 And rhyme no more to merry. 
 
 Nay, I am not in churlish mood : 
 
 Say, are these missiles thrown 
 At any tree within the wood 
 
 Producing leaves alone ? 
 
 No; you can view them branch and stem 
 
 In unmolested row ; 
 They bear no natural cause on them 
 
 To make them suflfer so. 
 17 
 
242 SECULAR POEMS. 
 
 My limbs meanwhile are knocked about, 
 
 For every stone a mark, 
 Until my naked wood peeps out 
 
 Beneath the ragged bark. 
 
 Not because people hate me more, 
 
 Since everybody knows 
 If other trees my produce bpre 
 
 They too would bear my blows. 
 
 Just so we often see that man 
 
 Defendant in a suit, 
 From whom, if beat, the plaintiff can 
 
 Extort unbounded loot. 
 
 And so that traveller only fears 
 The sight of robber crews. 
 
 Within whose purse a sum appears 
 'Twere ruinous to lose. 
 
 And so these stones are thrown at me 
 Because my nuts are good ; 
 
 While other fruitless trees you see 
 Uninjured in the wood. 
 
 III. 
 The Walnut-Tree answereth an Objection. 
 
 You urge perhaps that other shrubs 
 Which grow in soil adjacent 
 
 Have met with corresponding rubs 
 And usage non-complaisant. 
 
THE TALKING WALNUT-TREE. 243 
 
 Quite true ; but nothing of their own 
 
 Has caused their misery ; 
 ■ They suffer thro' the casual stone 
 That glances off from me. 
 
 Before you undertake to scoff 
 
 At this unlikely story, 
 See how those others farther off 
 
 Retain their natural glory. 
 
 If these could speak, and understood 
 
 The cause of their condition, 
 How they would curse me, leaf and wood. 
 
 For holding this position ! 
 
 Ah, wretched fate that adds this woe 
 
 To all my other labours. 
 And makes me odious to the row, 
 
 A nuisance to my neighbours. 
 
 The Walnut- Tree justly complaineth of the Farmer. 
 
 What does the Farmer, pray, bestow 
 
 On me except this station — 
 What care or toil ? To him I owe 
 
 No mighty obligation. 
 
 In the worst field of all his farm, 
 
 This plot wherein I stand, 
 I grew unaided by his arm 
 
 On almost public land. 
 17 * 
 
244 SECULAR FOEMS. 
 
 * 
 For, fearing I might shade his plants 
 
 (This senseless charge they urge), 
 He pushed me, heedless of my wants, 
 
 Up to the very verge. 
 
 And never pruner dipt the shade 
 
 Injurious to my fruit, 
 Nor delver broke with careful spade 
 
 The clods that cramp my root. 
 
 They see me drooping in the sun. 
 With heat and drought half-dying. 
 
 And bid no cooling fountain run 
 My urgent need supplying. 
 
 But when my walnuts crack the rind 
 And show their ripened treasure. 
 
 This side and that, before, behind, 
 'Yh&y flog me without measure. 
 
 And wounds terrific intervene. 
 Till I confess with groaning 
 
 There is not much to choose between 
 This sticking and that stoning. 
 
 My walnuts fall ; some at dessert 
 The master's palate tickle ; . 
 
 My frugal mistress will convert 
 The larger sort to pickle. 
 
THE TALKING WALNUT-TREE. 245 
 
 V. 
 
 The Walnut- Tree envieth the condition of other Trees. 
 
 How fortunate the trees that still 
 
 Year after year afford, 
 Afar from blows and usage ill, 
 
 Due tribute to their lord. 
 
 They hear no accents harsh and loud. 
 
 No din of rumbling wheels ; 
 No steaming dust from heated crowd 
 
 Their verdant leaf conceals. 
 
 They please their owner more and more. 
 
 And every fruitful autumn 
 Delight with undiminished store 
 
 The soul of him that bought 'em. 
 
 Alas, my walnuts seldom crown 
 
 His table in their prime, 
 For vagabonds will knock them down 
 
 Before the nutting-time. 
 
 Sad loss for me, and useless quite 
 
 To him who bags the plunder ; 
 While yet the shell is soft and white. 
 
 And milky pulp is under. 
 
 Yet scamps there are, who yearly come 
 
 To play this empty trick. 
 And carry unripe walnuts home 
 
 By dint of stone and sticL 
 
246 SECULAR POEMS. 
 
 And if my master weighed his share 
 Against the depredator, 
 
 The portion stolen unaware 
 Would prove by far the greater ! 
 
 VI. 
 
 The Walnut-Tree deprecateth popular Censure. 
 
 When folk behold my naked head 
 
 Which nature clad so fair, 
 Some say the northern blast has sped 
 
 And carried off my hair. 
 
 And some remark, " how frost has cut. 
 
 And some, " how sun or hail 
 That luckless Walnut-tree whose nut 
 
 Is known so oft to fail." 
 
 'Tis not the wind, 'tis not the hail, 
 
 'Tis neither sun nor frost. 
 That makes my widowed boughs bewail 
 
 The honours they have lost. 
 
 No, my misfortune is my fruit ; 
 
 My being a wealthy tree 
 Is cankering at this sorrow's 'root ; 
 
 My riches ruin me ! 
 
 Nor only me : young Polydore 
 
 Was murdered for his gold, 
 And Eriphyle furthermore 
 
 Her gentle husband sold. 
 
THE TALKING WALNUT-TREE. 247 
 
 The orchard of the Hesperides 
 
 Had flourished safe enough, 
 But for that one of all the trees 
 
 Which vaunted golden stuff. 
 
 Briers and brambles, only made 
 
 To torture and destroy. 
 Of no avenging hand afraid, 
 
 Impunity enjoy. 
 
 VII. 
 
 The Walnut- Tree hinteth at Retaliation. 
 
 I wear no thorn to work men woe 
 And tear their coats in twain. 
 
 And they assault me, for they know 
 I cannot turn again. 
 
 Suppose at length vindictive made, 
 
 When next the sun is hot 
 And they come crowding to my shade, 
 
 I entertain them not ? 
 
 Or when surprised by storm they crave 
 
 A shelter from the rain, 
 I haughtily my branches wave, 
 
 And let them seek in vain ? 
 
 No, friendly to my utmost power 
 
 I meet their every need. 
 And in return receive a shower 
 
 Of stones for each good deed ! 
 
248 SECULAR POEMS. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 The Walnut-Tree is indignant at the Farmer's blamt. 
 
 When my complaining master came 
 And marked the pebbles thrown, he 
 
 Observed he held me much to blame 
 Because his field was stony ! 
 
 Collecting them with angry hand 
 
 He flung them in the lane, 
 Ready for every passing band 
 
 To fling them back again. 
 
 Ah me ! on every side opprest 
 By spite, and split, and splintet, 
 
 My friends may like the summer best, 
 But I prefer the winter. 
 
 For then I naked stand and stark. 
 
 Obeying nature's fiat. 
 And so present no tempting mark 
 
 For idle boys to " shy at." 
 
 But when beneath the vernal gale 
 
 I burgeon in my joyance, 
 Forthwith my shower of summer hail 
 
 Resumes last year's annoyance. 
 
 The Walnut-Tree ridiculeth the claim that she is 
 public property. 
 
 What ! Say you that my precious load 
 
 Is "publico pro bono," 
 Because I join the public road? 
 
 I boldly answer — O no ! 
 
THE TALKING WALNUT-TREE. 249 
 
 If so, go strip the Olive-trees, 
 
 And cornfields when they harden ; 
 
 Go, cut what cabbages you please 
 In your next neighbour's garden. 
 
 And since you plead a poor pretence 
 
 Of right to rob this one tree, 
 Extend that plea of impudence 
 
 To town as well as country. 
 
 Let A purloin a silver dish, 
 
 With none to let or hinder ; 
 Let B indulge his harmless wish 
 
 For jewels in the window. 
 
 Let C appropriate fine gold, 
 
 Or diamonds oriental, 
 And seize whatever else is sold 
 
 In shop-fronts ornamental 
 
 No ; goods are safe, for Caesar live^ 
 
 And rules this happy clime. 
 And every shop-lifter receives 
 
 The guerdon of his crime. 
 
 And not within the city wall 
 
 Alone his laws extend ; 
 But every creature, great,, or small. 
 
 Has Caesar for a friend. 
 
 But who will be a friend to me. 
 
 Poor persecuted waif; 
 Beaten by daylight, publicly. 
 
 And not one walnut safe ? 
 
250 SECULAR POEMS. 
 
 No birds will sing or build a nest 
 
 About my lonely stem, 
 And yet I always do my best 
 
 To make a home for them. 
 
 Only a stone will sometimes dwell 
 Wedged in some fork, a victor ; 
 
 As though he stayed to guard me well, 
 And watch me like a lictor. 
 
 X. 
 
 The Walnut- Tree discloseth her Avenger. 
 
 Some villanies beneath the sun 
 
 May stoutly be denied. 
 Some crimes in midnight darkness done. 
 
 Darkness itself may hide. 
 
 Against the manglers of my bark 
 
 A lasting witness lingers. 
 That brown and never-fading mark 
 
 Imprinted on their fingers. 
 
 It is my blood : fall where it may 
 That spot will still remain ; 
 
 Whole rivers cannot purge away 
 The livid, murderous stain. 
 
 XI. 
 
 The Walnut-Tree contemplateth Suicide. 
 
 Ah me ! how often have I said. 
 
 When weary to the pith, 
 " I would that I were sere and dead, 
 
 hx^d. firewood forthwith." 
 
THE TALKING WALNUT-TREE. 251 
 
 I've prayed the whirlwind hurtling past 
 
 To tear me up by root ; 
 The wrathful thunder-bolt to blast 
 
 And char me — leaf and fruit. 
 
 I often beg the winds to take 
 
 My walnuts for their mirth; 
 Or half resolve myself to shake 
 
 And rain them down to earth. 
 
 That having murdered my increase, 
 
 And sacrificed my gains, 
 I might at length enjoy in peace 
 
 The little that remains. 
 
 XII. 
 
 The Walnut-Tree beviaileth her helplessness. 
 Her last appeal. 
 
 The traveller picks up a stone, 
 And sights with stedfast eye 
 
 The branch at which it will be thrown : 
 What courage then have I ? 
 
 I cannot fight ; and roots below 
 
 Are such a close restraint, 
 I cannot even ward the blow 
 
 By any dodge or feint ; 
 
 And so no more resistance make 
 Than some poor captive tied. 
 
 And shot while fastened to the stake, 
 By a barbarian tribe. 
 
252 SECULAR POEMS. 
 
 Ay, as the heifer stands amazed 
 Beneath the butcher's knife, 
 
 And shudders at the axe up-raised 
 To rob it of dear Ufe ; 
 
 So, when you deem the wanton wind 
 
 My cause of perturbation, 
 I'm trembhng to my outer rind 
 
 With mental agitation. 
 
 If I am justly treated so 
 
 No mercy I require. 
 Burn down my stump, my brstnches throw 
 
 To feed a smoky fire : 
 
 If I am justly treated so, 
 
 Bring axe and bid me fall, 
 And take the shell of final woe 
 
 And crack it once for all. 
 
 But if you know no reason why 
 
 To burn me or to slay, 
 As you would prosper, friends, pass by. 
 
 And spare me from to-day. 
 
PHILEMON AND BAUCIS. 
 
 A SIMPLE STORY. 
 {Translated from Ovid.)- 
 
 ' EASURELESS is the Might of heaven ; and limit 
 
 knows it none ; 
 The gods above pronounce their Will, and it is 
 
 forthwith done. 
 
 In proof whereof an Oak and Lime stand on the Phrygian hills, 
 The space within a ruitied wall their mingled shadow fills. 
 With my own eyes I saw the spot (by Pittheus' order sent 
 To Pelops' country, where his sire late held the government) ; 
 And not far off a vast lagoon, once rife with busy men, 
 But now a reedy haunt for gulls and many a water-hen. 
 
 Upon a time' came Jupiter, and visited the land 
 In mortal guise ; and Mercury, caduceus in hand. 
 Accompanied his mighty sire ; his wings were laid aside. 
 Before a thousand homes they stood, and piteously cried 
 For warmth and rest : a thousand homes the simple boon denied. 
 Yet there was one, a lowly roof of straw and rushes made, 
 Which entertained the wanderers and tendered needful aid. 
 There kind old Baucis and her mate Philemon, old as she. 
 Had been united in their youth a loving pair to be ; 
 And still within those cottage walls, wten their sweet youth was gone. 
 They lived and loved together till old age came creeping on. 
 Making no shame of poverty, they felt its burden light, 
 And sweet contentment always kept their simple dwelling bright. 
 Ask you for master, mistress, man, or maid .' No matter : they 
 Are only two, and both command, and both in turn ohef. 
 
254 SECULAR POEMS. 
 
 Now when the denizens o£ heaven knocked gently at their door, 
 And bowed their lofty heads to pass the lowly threshold o'er ; 
 Philemon bade them rest their limbs upon the couch he set, 
 On which attentive Baucis spread a home-spun coverlet. 
 Then busy at the hearth she moves the useless ash away, 
 And lights with arid bark and leaves the fire of yesterday, 
 And fans the flame with aged breath. This done, she chops with toil 
 Sere boughs and pine-logs from the roof to make the kettle boil. 
 She next a cabbage from the hands of her good man receives, 
 Cut in their watered garden, and pares off the outer leaves. 
 He no less hospitably bent, lifts down on two-pronged fork. 
 From blackened beam whereon it hung, a well-cured side of pork, 
 Cuts a small portion from the chine he long had joyed to save. 
 And sinks the bacon severed thus beneath the bubbling wave. 
 
 Lest the delay might irksome prove, the courteous pair meanwhile. 
 With simple entertaining talk the lagging hours beguile. 
 There was a tub well-wrought in beech suspended from a hook 
 By a curved handle : from its place this tub Philemon took. 
 Filled it with water warm and soft, then bared their tired feet, 
 And washed away the travel-stains, and soothed the throbbing heat. 
 Soft sedge they piled upon a couch supported on a frame 
 Of common willow ; underneath, the legs were of the same ; 
 And this with hangings they concealed, not often thus displayed. 
 Except to grace some festival, yet they were old and frayed, 
 And with the couch of willow-wood a famous match they made. 
 The gods reclined. The aged dame, with gown tucked up before, 
 And trembling hands, proceeds to place a table on the floor. 
 Three legs were long and one was short, and so a tile was found. 
 And dexterously wedged between the short leg and the ground. 
 Thus when the sloping side was raised, and all was levelled well. 
 They rubbed it over with fresh mint to give a pleasant smell. 
 Then olives of the purest kind, and green with twofold shade. 
 And autumn cherries soaked in wine upon the board were laid, 
 With endive and with radishes, and clotted cream to spare. 
 And eggs among slow embers poached and lightly turned with care. 
 
PHILEMON AND BAUCIS. 255 
 
 But everything on earthenware : and after these they lay 
 A goblet chased by skilful hand, but likewise formed of clay ; 
 With cups of manufactured beech, such as the makers line 
 With a smooth coat of yellow wax to glorify the wine. 
 
 No tedious delay is here : the viands leave the pot. 
 And straightway from the fire upon the table are placed hot. 
 The wine a little space removed can boast no wealth of years. 
 Yet after the dessert is served a second time appears. 
 Ah, here are walnuts, figs, and dates within the rugged shell. 
 And plums, and in a basket broad ripe apples sweet of smell. 
 With purple grapes in bunches rare, fresh gathered from the vines. 
 While virgin honey in the midst of all this bounty shines ; 
 The beaming faces of the hosts smile welcome over all, 
 And seem to say, " We do our best, altho' that best is small." 
 
 Meanwhile the goblet, emptied quite, they see replenished stand, 
 And the wine secretly increase unpoured by human hand ; 
 The host and hostess terrified, with pallid faces stare. 
 Astonished at a sight so strange, and mutter many a prayer. 
 With supplicating hands, that their illustrious guests would deign 
 Excuse their ceremonial scant and a repast so plain. 
 
 There was a gander, only one, the hissing sentinel. 
 Which kept their tiny farm from theft, and guarded it right well : 
 This bird they now resolve to slay, their visitors to grace ; 
 But swift of wing he still escapes and mocks their tardy pace. 
 At length, as if entreating help, close to the gods he flies. 
 And they, in pity for the bird, forbid the sacrifice. 
 " And we are gods," they said, " come down to bring destruction due 
 Upon this wicked neighbourhood, but we will care for you ; 
 Only consent to leave your home and follow while we guide 
 Your steps to find a safe retreat on yonder mountain side." 
 Obedient both to the command with trembling limbs they went, 
 And leaning on their trusty staves toiled up the steep ascent. 
 
 A bowshot from the top they turned, and saw the lower plains 
 All deluged by a spreading lake : their roof alone remains. 
 
2S6 SECULAR POEMS. 
 
 And while they stand in wonder lost, and mourn the sudden fate 
 Of their drowned friends, they see the cot, their humble home of late, 
 Transformed into a temple fair. Twin columns meet their view. 
 Instead of wooden props ; the thatch assumes a yellow hue ; 
 Pavement of various marble now conceals the earthen floors ; 
 And roofs of glittering gold appear, and richly graven doors ! 
 Then spake these words, great Saturn's son ; his voice was kind 
 
 and low : 
 " Say, good old man and worthy wife, what boon shall we bestow ? " 
 A little while Philemon spake in Baucis' ear apart. 
 And then revealed their mutual wish, and opened all their heart. 
 " The priest and priestess let us be, your sacred shrine to guard. 
 And since our years together spent no discord ever marred, 
 Let the same moment take us both^ that I may never see 
 My darling's grave, and she likewise may never weep for me." 
 
 The gods kept faith : they had their wish — were guardians of 
 the fane 
 So long as it was theirs to live. One day by chance the twain 
 Were standing, quite worn-out with years, the temple-steps before. 
 Telling the story of the place so often told before. 
 When Baucis saw Philemon into branches burgeon out, 
 At the same time Philemon saw his faithful Baucis sprout ; 
 And now, before the lengthening stem o'er their two faces grew. 
 They faltered mutual farewells — " Dear husband — wife — adieu ! " 
 And while they spake, a leafy veil was hiding them from view. 
 
 But still the Cappadocian shows two trunks which, side by side, 
 Are joined in close companionship that Time cannot divide. 
 I heard the story from the lips of seniors wise and true : 
 Why should they wish to cozen me, or I to cozen you ? 
 And I myself saw garlands gay suspended overhead, 
 So fastening my own fresh wreath upon the boughs, I said : 
 " The Powers Above descend from Heaven to help the good and 
 
 kind. 
 And whoso courtesy extends, like courtesy shall find." 
 
CAMILLA. 
 
 A VIRGILIAN EPISODE. 
 Freely Translated. 
 
 HER CHILDHOOD. 
 Virg. M-a. xi. 539. 
 
 HEN Metabus, driven from his throne through 
 
 hate 
 Born of oppression, issued from the gate 
 Of old Privernum, through the perilous fight, 
 He bore an infant partner of his flight, 
 Camilla, heiress of her mother's name 
 Casmilla, partly altered, part the same. 
 Seeking the woodland crown of mountain wild 
 He carried in his bosom this sweet child : 
 But hostile weapons gleamed from every glen. 
 And round the pathway scoured the Volscian men. 
 Thus, fleeing for dear life, he sees at length 
 The Amisenus foaming in full strength. 
 Swollen by the rain that deluged all around. 
 And overleaping its accustomed bound. 
 Prepared at once to swim the waters wide, 
 A moment more will see him breast the tide ; 
 But lo, he pauses ; for that daughter dear, 
 His tender burden, moves his soul with fear. 
 18 
 
258 SECULAR POEMS. 
 
 What shall he do ? A hundred projects past, 
 
 He hit upon this bold resolve at last : 
 
 It chanced that in his giant hand he bore 
 
 A mighty spear, some knotted oak tree's core ; . 
 
 At first he swathed the babe from side to side 
 
 With cork-tree bark, and then securely tied, 
 
 Midway between the iron and the haft, 
 
 The living burden to the oaken shaft. 
 
 Poising the spear he made its balance true. 
 
 Then looked to heaven, and prayed before he thre-,' 
 
 " O gentle virgin, goddess of the grove, 
 
 Latona's daughter, heed a father's love. 
 
 Protect the child devoted to thee here. 
 
 Who ilying clasps the shaft thou boldest dear. 
 
 An infant suppliant — O, accept this care. 
 
 And guide her dangerous voyage through the air.'' 
 
 Then drawing back his arm, with sudden force 
 
 He launched the weapon on its venturous course. 
 
 The angry torrent roared; but far o'erhead 
 
 The whizzing spear and hapless maiden sped. 
 
 Then Metabus, the foremost foeman near, 
 
 Swims o'er the stream and hastens to the spear ; 
 
 Torn from the turf, he sees, through Dian's grace. 
 
 The babe unhurt, and smiling in his face. 
 
 And, since no roof, no wallfed city, gave 
 
 The shelter his proud soul disdained to crave ; 
 
 Thenceforth among the lonely hills he went, 
 
 And spent his days beneath the shepherd's tent ; 
 
 And fed his babe, in cave and woodland lair, 
 
 By pressing from the teat of willing mare 
 
 The milky stream : his little maiden quaff 'd 
 
 With pouting lips the invigorating draught. 
 
 And when her tiny feet could scarcely stand, 
 
 He placed a little javelin in her hand, 
 
CAMILLA. 259 
 
 And o'er her shoulder slung a baby bow, 
 With baby arrows in a glittering row. 
 No golden ornament bedecked her hair, 
 No stately robe the royal child might wear ; 
 !B.ut tiger skin, arranged in savage taste. 
 Confined her locks and girt her tender waist. 
 She, thus equipped, began betimes to fling 
 The dart, or round her head to whirl the sling. 
 And strike the Thracian crane in rapid flight, 
 And slay the wild swan in his aery height. 
 Then through the Tuscan cities many a dame 
 Each for her son preferred an eager claim ; 
 But the wild maiden scorned the nuptial call, 
 And loved her mistress Dian more than all, 
 And laughed — and shook her arrows at the foe. 
 And lived a virgin huntress, pure as snow. 
 
 HER WOMANHOOD. 
 Virg. ^n. vii. 803. 
 
 Next came Caniilla, leading from afar 
 Her glittering ranks caparisoned for war, 
 Girl-cavalry beneath a manly mask. 
 Like flowers blooming into plume and casque. 
 A warrior maiden she, of Volscian race. 
 Whose slender fingers never used to grace 
 The distaff, or Minerva's gentle care 
 Of household duties, meet for lady fair. 
 Her chiefest joy to lead the fierce attack. 
 Give blow for blow, then, wheeling, turn her back. 
 And fly more swiftly than the envious wind. 
 And leave the baffled foeman far behind. 
 t8* 
 
26o SECULAR FOEMS. 
 
 So fleet of foot, that where she chanced to pass 
 She scarcely bent the topmost blades of grass, 
 Or bruised the tender heads of yellow grain 
 That only bowed and gazed at her again ; 
 A form, so fairy-like, might almost fleet 
 Above the billow with unmoistened feet. 
 From grange and fields she drew a rustic throng 
 Of youths and maidens as she marched along. 
 The gaping crowd admired, with simple mind, 
 Her crimson mantle fluttering in the wind, 
 A gleam of rounded shoulders ivory fair, 
 The golden clasp that held her flashing hair. 
 The quiver rattling at her horse's tread, 
 The myrtle shepherd-staff with iron head. 
 
 HER PROWESS. 
 Virg. ^n. xi. 649. 
 
 With breast half bare, where crimson rivers run, 
 Camilla, quiver-bearing Amazon, 
 Hurls a thick hail of javelins at her foes. 
 Then grasps her axe and deals unwearied blows. 
 Her bow of flashing gold is slung behind. 
 And Dian's arrows rattle in the wind. 
 Or if compelled a moment to retreat, 
 O'erpowered by numbers, turning in her seat. 
 Her bow reversed, she pulls the twanging string. 
 And floats a cloud of arrows on the wing. 
 Meanwhile a band of chosen friends are seen, 
 Italian women, clustering round their queen ; 
 Tarpeia, with her hatchet flashed in air, 
 I.arina, spotless maid; and Tulia fair; 
 
CAMILLA. 261 
 
 In peace and war the first in her regard, 
 
 Once maids of honour, now her body-guard. 
 
 Like Thracian Amazons, beside the stream 
 
 Thermodon, when the rival sunrays gleam 
 
 On their enamelled armour, as they throng 
 
 Around Hippolyta, or lead along. 
 
 With shrilly war-cries echoing o'er the fields, 
 
 And brazen clashing of their moon-shaped shields, 
 
 Penthesilea, frowning in her car. 
 
 The warlike daughter of the god of war. 
 
 Who first, who last, was slain by thee, fierce maid ? 
 How many warrior forms were prostrate laid ? 
 Eumenius fell the first : her spear of pine, 
 Piercing his chest, protruded from the spine ; 
 He gasped forth blood, then falling gnawed the ground, 
 And writhed in death about his gaping wound. 
 Liris unhorsed, and tugging at the rein 
 To raise his wounded charger from the plain, 
 And Pagasus extending from on high 
 A hand too slow to save, together die. 
 To them she adds the son of Hippotas 
 Amaster. Now, with all the strength she has, 
 She flings her javelins forth ; they light upon 
 Tereus, Harpalycus, Demophoon, 
 And Chromis. Every spear the virgin sped 
 Laid on the earth one Trojan warrior dead. 
 In armour strange, on an Apulian horse, 
 The hunter Ornitus pursues his course ; 
 His shoulders broad arrayed in tough bull-skin, 
 His crest a wolf's head with a ghastly grin. 
 For hideous jaws are visible beneath, 
 Bristling with rows of alabaster teeth. 
 Mid-rank he rides, with hunting-blade in hand. 
 
262 SECULAR POEMS. 
 
 And by a whole head overtops the band. 
 
 Him she encountered when the broken rank 
 
 Had cleared her way, and soon her spearpoint sank 
 
 Within his breast ; then bending o'er the dead, 
 
 In ho'stile tones the victor maiden said : 
 
 " How, Tuscan, hast thou made thy vaunting good. 
 
 To hunt us down like wild beasts in the wood ? 
 
 The day is cotne to prove such language vain, 
 
 And see thee fall, by woman's weapon slain. 
 
 Yet to ancestral shades thou goest down, 
 
 Killed by Camilla's spear — no slight renown !" 
 
 Followed two stalworth men of Trojan race, 
 Orchilochus and Butes. Face to face, 
 Her lance slew Butes, stabbed between the mail 
 And helmet, where the iron fastenings fail 
 Above the buckler hanging on his left. 
 And show the rider's neck through tiny cleft. 
 Orchilochus comes next. She turns her face. 
 And in a wily circle leads the chase ; 
 Then swiftly veering, through the centre rides. 
 Pursuing her pursuer ; — on she glides. 
 Then rising, with her battle-axe strikes full 
 With crashing force through helmet and through skull : 
 His praying and beseeching all in vain, 
 A ghastly wound pours forth his reeking brain. 
 
 The son of Aunus from the windy pines. 
 His home among the cloud-capt Apennines, 
 While craft could parry death, held no mean fame 
 Among the warriors of Ligurian name. 
 Camilla in the fray he chanced to meet. 
 And stood aghast, for terror bound his feet. 
 Hope of escape or rescue there was none : 
 
CAMILLA. 263 
 
 All chance of safety lay in craft alone. 
 
 Thus he began : " I see no wondrous force 
 
 Of valour in a girl who trusts her horse 
 
 To bear her scatheless ! Dar'st thou, maiden, stand 
 
 With me on foot and battle hand to hand ? 
 
 Thou dar'st not ! Else right quickly thou shouldst know 
 
 Which side the bhst of changeful fame would blow." 
 
 She, maddened by the insult, cast her rein 
 
 To her next friend, and leapt upon the plain ; 
 
 Fearless she stood, nor other arms would wield 
 
 Than naked sword and unemblazoned shield. 
 
 But when he saw the trustful maid alight, 
 
 He turned the rein, and urged his steed to flight ; 
 
 Deep in the charger's side the rowel sank. 
 
 And stained with blood the foam-flake on his flank ; 
 
 Forward he sprang : the recrea,nt rider laught. 
 
 And gloried in the triumph of his craft. 
 
 But, lo ! a voice pursued him o'er the plain ; 
 
 " Boast not, Ligurian; all thy guile is vain, 
 
 Like sire, like son ; but deem not such deceit 
 
 Will bring thee safe to wily Annas' feet" 
 
 Thus cried Camilla ; crying thus she ran, 
 
 Outstripped the steed, and faced the astounded man ; 
 
 Then seized the rein, subdued his plunging horse, 
 
 And struck the coward down a bleeding corse. 
 
 As easily as when below, above. 
 
 The royal hawk pursues a trembling dove, 
 
 And swooping down like lightning on his prey. 
 
 With beak and crooked talons tears away 
 
 Her quivering heart : she dies : and lo ! a rain 
 
 Of bloody feathers fluttering to the plain. 
 
2 64 SECULAR POEMS. 
 
 HER DEATH. 
 Virg. JE.n. xi. 759. 
 
 Then might be seen the fore-doomed Aruns wind 
 With sharpened spear, and still acuter mind, 
 Around the maid, till fortune should bestow 
 The lucky chance to strike a fatal blow. 
 Where'er she charged, her squadron at her back, 
 He crept behind and hung upon her track ; 
 Where'er she issued victor from the fray. 
 He drew the rein and sidled round that way ; 
 And aimed, at every turn, the coward dart 
 That sought an open passage to her heart 
 Chloreus, just then in Phrygian armour shone, 
 A priest of Cybele in days bygone, 
 Spurring a steed encased from plume to tail 
 In seasoned hides, o'erwrought with frequent scale 
 Of polished steel, and braced at every fold 
 And seam throughout with studs of solid gold. 
 He, clad in purple robe of dusky hue, 
 Shot Cretan arrows from his Lycian yew ; 
 And on his shoulder bore a second bo\\', 
 Golden ; a golden helmet pressed his brow ; 
 A golden clasp held in a knot behind 
 His saffron vestment vaunting to the wind 
 - Its rustling folds, and showed a tunic graced 
 With needlework, and greaves of barbarous taste. 
 This man, once seen, she singled out alone 
 From all the field, and destined for her own. 
 Perchance she longed to see such armour shine 
 Within her own Diana's woodland shrine ; 
 Perchance that sh^ herself might go arrayed 
 In all that gold to hunt the forest glade. 
 
CAMILLA. 265 
 
 Whate'er the cause, with woman's strong desire, ' 
 She burnt to spoil him of his brave attire ; 
 And dared along the hostile line to ride. 
 Heedless of danger, blind to all beside. 
 
 Then subtle Aruns seized the fatal chance, 
 And through the air propelled his sounding lance ; 
 By either host its onward flight was seen, 
 And all the Volscians gazed upon their queen ; 
 But she, unconscious of the peril nigh, 
 Nor heard nor saw its passage through the sky ; 
 Till deep beneath her naked breast it stood 
 And quivered, thirsting for her virgin blood. 
 Her trembling guard sprang forward, clustered round. 
 And saved their falling mistress from the ground. 
 The dying girl, regardless of the pain 
 Dragged at the cruel shaft, alas ! in vain ; 
 Imbedded firmly in her tender side. 
 The iron barb her utmost strength defied. 
 She faints, and from her cheeks the purple breath 
 Of youth fast fades, her eyelids close in death. 
 Yet, ere she quite expires, from all the rest 
 She singles Acca, who had loved her best, 
 The sharer of her every hope and fear : 
 " Thus far," she falters; " Acca, sister dear, 
 My own right hand has seconded my will ; 
 Thus far, no farther---it will soon be still ; 
 My wound will slay me : everlasting night 
 Falls fast, and hides thee from my loving sight. 
 Weep not, but swiftly bear with faithful heed 
 My latest word to Turnus : bid him speed. 
 Charge the base Trojan with his utmost power. 
 And hurl the bandit backward from the tower : 
 
266 SECULAR POEMS. 
 
 And now, farewell." Forthwith the charger's rein 
 Falls from her grasp unheeded to the plain ; 
 Graceful in death she floats serenely down, 
 Like blossom blighted by the tempest's frown ; 
 The icy hand of fate creeps slowly on, 
 Colder and colder, she is almost gone ; 
 Upon her bosom droops her queenly head ; 
 Her hand unclasps the javelin : she is dead ! 
 And her reluctant spirit forced to go. 
 With groan indignant, speeds to shades below. 
 
 EPIGRAM. 
 
 Ah, muliebre genus, quae vos insana cupido 
 Urget stultitia dedecorare decus ? 
 
 Simplex munditiis, Metabo vivente, Camilla ; 
 Sed, patre submoto, vestis amore perit. 
 
PART IV. 
 
 €-he l5irD0 of an0topf)ane.s, 
 
 IN ENGLISH RHYME FOR ENGLISH READERS. 
 
TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE. 
 
 HIS Translation of "The Birds," carried on 
 at intervals as a recreation in the midst of 
 work in a mining parish, has of necessity 
 been "long in the baking." When it was 
 quite ready for the press, the Translator was introduced 
 by a friend to the recent work of Professor Kennedy. 
 Had he known that the Professor was travelling along 
 the same line in an express train he would surely have 
 resigned his third-class ticket at an early station. 
 
 Since the perusal of Professor Kennedy's Translation, 
 although sorely tempted to make corrections here 
 and there, he has, for reasons which will be obvious 
 to one who reads both versions, scrupulously abstained 
 from altering one single word. 
 
 He is delighted to find that the two do not occupy 
 precisely the same ground. This Translation is more 
 diffuse, and expands the text sufficiently to avoid the 
 multiplication of footnotes without verging on the 
 domain of pharaphrase. Moreover, rhyme is used 
 throughout in the ordinary dialogue as well as the 
 
2 70 THE BIRDS. 
 
 choral portion; and (not the least observable dif- 
 ference) the Anapaestic Tetrameter, despised by- 
 Professor Kennedy, is here retained. Without it 
 Aristophanes is hardly himself. Whether, with ' the 
 embellishment of double rhymes, it runs heavily, the 
 reader must judge. 
 
 The Translator begs to acknowledge the great assist- 
 ance received from the School Edition, with Notes, 
 published by Messrs Parker. These Notes, with 
 " Siivern's Essay," constitute all " The Birds " literature 
 from which help has been derived. 
 
 In conclusion he begs to state, in self-defence, that 
 he has made no attempt in the following pages to dis- 
 play an erudition which he does not possess ; but simply 
 to reproduce in a dress thoroughly English, for the 
 pleasure of the many who are unacquainted with Greek, 
 an s.-ac\tJ\t jeu-d' esprit of marvellous vivacity. 
 
 Feiruary, 1875. 
 
ARGUMENT OF "THE BIRDS." 
 
 ^WO elderly Athenians shrewd, eloquent, and 
 witty, 
 Aggrieved by debt and suits at law, forsake 
 their native city ; 
 By Crow and Jackdaw led they come, with circumam- 
 
 bulation. 
 Where Hoopoo, who was Tereus once, had fixed his 
 
 habitation. 
 His fellow-birds, enraged at first to see this brace of 
 
 strangers. 
 Are pacified; and then the pair, escaping farther dangers. 
 Propound to the assembled flocks, in language lofty- 
 sounding, 
 A project of aggrandisement preposterous, astounding ! 
 To fortify a city in an aery situation, 
 And seize the kingdom which the gods enjoyed by 
 
 usurpation. 
 The city built, the plan succeeds : rebellion follows 
 
 treason ; 
 The gods deprived of sacrifice at length are brought to 
 
 reason. 
 • So birds are henceforth kings of men, their ancient right 
 
 possessing. 
 And far and wide on every side spread health and wealth 
 
 and blessing. 
 
THE BIRDS. 
 
 DRAMATIS PERSONS. 
 
 EuELPiDES, ) Two Athenians seeking a 
 
 Peisthet/erus, / new home. 
 
 Trochilus. Footman-bird to Hoopoo. 
 
 Hoopoo. An influential bird, once Tereus. 
 
 Priest. 
 
 Poet. 
 
 Diviner. 
 
 Surveyor. 
 
 Inspector. 
 
 Edict-monger. 
 
 Parricide. 
 
 CiNESiAS. A dithyrambic poet. 
 
 Informer. 
 
 Iris. 
 
 Prometheus, \ 
 
 Poseidon, > Olympian deities. 
 
 Hercules, J 
 
 Triballus. a barbarian god. 
 
 Messengers, Herald, Chorus of Birds. 
 
 SCENE. — A wild spot in Attica, with rocks and wooa. 
 
THE BIRDS OF ARISTOPHANES. 
 
 Gained the Second Prize about B.C. 414. 
 
 PART I. 
 
 EuELPiDES carrying a jFackdaw, PeistheTjERUS a Crow. 
 
 EuELPiDES. \To his yackdaw. 
 
 HAT ! Go straight on where yonder tree 
 stands out ? 
 
 Peisthet^erus'. \To his Crow. 
 
 Hang you ! This creature croaks a right-about. 
 
 EuELPiDES. [7b his yackdaw. 
 O rascal bird, uncertain where to go, 
 Why do we thus meander to and fro, 
 Tost Hke a pair of shuttles in the loom, 
 Till, having lost our way, wtjind our doom ? 
 
 Peisthet^rus. 
 To think that I Crow-piloted should stretch 
 My legs a thousand furlongs, luckless wretch! 
 19 
 
2 74 THE BIRDS. 
 
 EUELPIDES. 
 
 That I Jackdaw-directed, man of woes, 
 Should tear the very toe nails from my toes ! 
 
 PEISTHETiERUS. 
 
 But where on earth we now are, I know not. 
 
 EUELPIDES. 
 
 Could you find out our city from this spot ? 
 
 Peisthet^rus. 
 No ! Exekestides would never do it ' 
 
 EUELPIDES. \In fresh difficulties. 
 Alas! 
 
 PeISTHETjERUS. 
 
 Come, take this path, friend, and pursue it. 
 
 EUELPIDES. 
 
 That man of birds, that poulterer, mad sick 
 
 Philocrates, played us a shabby trick ! 
 
 This brace would show us (so he pledged his word) 
 
 Where Tereus lives, who, changed into a bird, 
 
 Yxom flighty Athens, is the Hoopoo named : 
 
 And for this Daw an obolus he claimed, 
 
 A braggart bird, like Tharrelides' heir ; 
 
 And three for yonder Crow : a charming pair — 
 
 For pecking is the only art they know ! \To the Raven. 
 
 And now what dost thou gape at ? Must we go 
 
 Over those rocks, for here the path is done ? 
 
 Peisthet^rus. 
 And footprint here, by heaven, is there none ! 
 
 EUELPIDES. 
 
 But which way does your Crow appear to guide ? 
 
 ' Exekestides was a foreigner, who was ambitious to be reckoned 
 a native Atlienian. 
 
THE BIRDS. 27s 
 
 Peisthet.erus. 
 Her caws are inconsistent, first this side 
 Then that. 
 
 EUELPIDES. 
 
 In what direction now ? 
 
 Peisthet^rus. 
 
 She lingers 
 To scream, and say she means to peck my fingers. 
 
 Euelpides. 
 Strange, is it not, that you and I should go 
 A-begging to the crows, and furnished so 
 With guides, in spite of their assistance, stray. 
 And be unable to regain our way ? 
 
 [Addressing the audience. 
 For know, all men who hear Us now converse, 
 We labour under the opposing curse 
 To that of Sacas ; alien by birth. 
 He pushes in ; we, citizens of worth 
 In tribe and kin, without a soul to harry us. 
 Are flying off fast as both legs will carry us ; 
 Not hating that same city, our fair mother. 
 Nor censuring her polity as other 
 Than naturally prosperous and great, 
 With common rights of wasting onds estate 
 At laiv. The grasshoppers, from which they spring. 
 Among the shrubs a month or two will sing, 
 But the Athenians all their lifetime long, 
 Chirp at their lawsuits a forensic song. 
 We therefore "cut it," and in travelling guise. 
 With basket, bag, and flappers for the flies, 
 Wander to find some corner we may own, 
 Where suits are not and business is unknown ; 
 19* 
 
276 THE BIRDS. 
 
 There we would settle, there our lives would end. 
 So to the Hoopoe Tereus now we bend 
 Our steps, to ask if he has chanced to find, 
 While flying, any city of this kind. 
 
 Peisthet^rus. 
 Ho! Sir. 
 
 EUELPIDES. 
 
 What now ? 
 
 Peisthet^rus. 
 
 My Crow here all this while 
 Is signalling aloft. 
 
 Euelpides. 
 And in like style 
 My Jackdaw .gapes with a communication. 
 Some b.rds have doubtless made this spot their station. 
 But we shall soon know, if we raise a shout. 
 
 [Euelpides shouts. 
 Peisthet^rus. 
 'T!s plain you know not what you are about, 
 Make good use of your leg, and kick tne rock. 
 
 Euelpides. 
 You of your head — so raise a double knock. 
 
 PeISTHET/ERUS. 
 
 Well, strike then with a stone. 
 
 Euelpides. 
 
 So 't pleases you. \Knocks. 
 Ho ! ho ! 
 
 Peisthet^rus. 
 Why " Ho " ? Nay, call the Hoopoo, " Hoo:' 
 
 Euelpides. 
 Hoo ! Hoopoo ! Will you make me knock once more ? 
 Hoo ! Hoopoo ! \Enter Trochilus. 
 
THE BIRDS. 277 
 
 Trochilus. 
 Who are knocking at the door ? 
 Who is it calls so loudly for the master ? 
 
 EUELPIDES. 
 
 Oh, what a beak ! Heaven shield us from disaster ! 
 
 Trochilus. 
 Two bird-catchers arrived, by all that's evil ! 
 
 EUELPIDES. 
 
 The taunt is groundless and not over civil 
 
 Trochilus, 
 You'll hang for it ! 
 
 EUELPIDES. 
 
 What, you suppose us men ! 
 We're nothing of the sort. 
 
 Trochilus. 
 
 What are you then ? 
 
 EUELPIDES. 
 
 I am a Libyan bird of quaker-\x&?.A. 
 
 Trochilus. 
 Nonsense ! 
 
 EUELPIDES. 
 
 Look at my feet; 'tis so, indeed. 
 
 Trochilus. 
 What bird is he, then ? Speak ! 
 
 PeisthetjErus. 
 
 Why, look you here, 
 I'm of the pheasant tribe, dissolve-with-fear. 
 
 Euelpides. 
 But I conjure you, name your savage stock. 
 
.278 THE BIRDS. 
 
 Trochilus. 
 I am a slave-bird. 
 
 EUELPIDES. 
 
 Has some fighting-cock 
 Defeated you ? 
 
 Trochilus. 
 
 Not so : but when my lord 
 Was changed into a Hoopoo, he implored 
 The gods to make me bird, that I might fill 
 The place of follower and attendant still. 
 
 EUELPIDES. 
 
 How can a bird need an attendant, pray ? 
 
 Trochilus. 
 He does, because he was a man one day. 
 Sometimes for sardines he may feel a wish, 
 And then I run for sardines with a dish : 
 Sometimes he craves pea soup, and then I'm seen 
 Hast'nihg to fetch his ladle and tureen. 
 
 EUELPIDES. 
 
 This is a footman-bird. Come ! footman, faster ! 
 What are you doing ? Go and call your master. 
 
 Trochilus. 
 He fell asleep just now — I tell no lies — 
 After a meal of myrtle-fruit and flies. 
 
 EUELPIDES. 
 
 Then go and rouse him. 
 
 Trochilus. 
 
 Well enough I know 
 He will be vexed, but to please you I go. 
 
 \Exit Trochilus. 
 
THE BIRDS. 279 
 
 Peisthet^rus. [7J»Trochilus. 
 Hang you ! You'll be the death of me through fright. 
 
 EUELPIDES. 
 
 Bad luck ! My Jackdaw, too, has taken flight 
 Through terror. 
 
 Peisthet^rus. 
 O thou whitest-livered ape ! 
 Hast thou in panic let the Daw escape ? 
 
 EUELPIDES. 
 
 Didst thou not fall and lose thy Crow too, eh ? 
 
 Peisthet^rus. 
 Of course not. 
 
 EUELPIDES. 
 
 Then where is she ? 
 
 Peisthet^erus. 
 
 Flown away ! 
 
 EUELPIDES_ 
 
 Oh, then, it wasn't you who let her go. 
 It couldn't be, Sir Valiant, oh dear no ! 
 
 Hoopoo. [ Within. 
 
 " Unsport the oak,^' and make my passage clear. 
 
 [Enter Hoopoo. 
 
 EUELPIDES. 
 
 O Hercules ! what^monster have we here? 
 What plumage has he, and what curious crest, 
 With three-peaked top-knot ! 
 
 Hoopoo. 
 
 Who are making quest 
 For me ? 
 
 EUELPIDES. \Aside. 
 
 The twelve gods, in their furious passion. 
 Seem to have treated you in sorry fashion ! 
 
28o THE BIRDS. 
 
 Hoopoo. 
 Are you two jeering at me while you scan 
 My plumage ? Don't, for I was once a man. 
 
 EUELPIDES. 
 
 'Tis not at you we're laughing. 
 
 HooPoo. 
 
 Then at what ? 
 
 PeISTHETjERUS. 
 
 We can't resist the funny beak you've got. 
 
 HooPOO. 
 I'm subjected to similar abuse 
 By Sophocles in plays ; I, great Tereus ! 
 
 EUELPIDES. 
 
 You Tereus ! Are you fowl or are yon fool? 
 
 Hoopoo. 
 I'm fowl. 
 
 EUELPIDES. 
 
 Then, if you follow nature's rule. 
 Where are your plumes ? 
 
 Hoopoo. 
 
 All fallen off, alas ! 
 
 EUELPIDES. t 
 
 Did some disease bring matters to this pass ? 
 
 Hoopoo. 
 No ; all we birds, for some mysterious reason, 
 Moult, and are fledged again each winter season. 
 But tell me who you are. 
 
 EUELPIDES. 
 
 You mean us two ? 
 A brace of men. 
 
THE BIRDS. 281 
 
 Hoopoo. 
 And of what race come you ? 
 
 EUELPIDES. 
 
 Ours is the country of the fair triereme. 
 
 Hoopoo. 
 Not jurymen ? 
 
 EUELPIDES. 
 
 The contrary extreme : 
 We abjure juries. 
 
 Hoopoo. 
 Do they sow this kind ■ 
 Of seed there ? 
 
 EUELPIDES. 
 
 In the country you might find 
 Some little. 
 
 Hoopoo. 
 For what purpose is this visit ? 
 
 EUELPIDES. 
 
 To seek an audience. 
 
 Hoopoo. 
 Your intent, what is it ? 
 
 EUELPIDES. 
 
 Because you were a man, like us, one day. 
 
 Like us, owed money and had none to pay ; 
 
 Like us, rejoiced to find some clever way 
 
 To do your duns ; and then, being changed, you took 
 
 The nature of a bird, to overlook. 
 
 Circling in aery height, both sea and land, 
 
 A bird to soar, a man to understand I 
 
 Therefore we two as suppliants are come. 
 
 Hoping that you may recommend some home. 
 
 An easy-going city, lined within 
 
 For rest, as cosy as a beaver-skin. 
 
282 THE BIRDS. 
 
 Hoopoo. 
 Seek you a city larger than the last ? 
 
 EUELPIDES. 
 
 No ; but one more adapted to our taste. 
 
 Hoopoo. 
 You want an aristocracy, I see. 
 
 EUELPIDES. 
 
 Not I ! No aristocracy for me ! 
 
 I hate (though otherwise exempt from blame) 
 
 The son of Skellias simply for his name.' 
 
 Hoopoo. 
 What sort of city, then, would you prefer ? 
 
 EUELPIDES. 
 
 One where our greatest trouble would occur 
 
 After this fashion : In the morn, before 
 
 You're out of bed, a friend knocks at the door. 
 
 " By all that's best and sacredest," he cries, 
 
 " I beg you and your family to rise. 
 
 And come to me straight from your morning toilet ; 
 
 I give a wedding-breakfast — do not spoil it 
 
 By a refusal. If you do, to-morrow 
 
 I'll scorn your aid, if I should be in sorrow." 
 
 Hoopoo. 
 Good heavens ! What mighty hardships you would brook ! 
 
 And you ? \To PEISTHETiERUS. 
 
 PEISTHETiERUS. 
 
 Th's kind of thing just " suits my book." 
 
 Hoopoo. 
 
 Explain. 
 
 ' Aristocrates. 
 
THE BIRDS. 283 
 
 PEISTHETiERUS. 
 
 To meet the father of a child 
 In whom wealth, youth, and grace are reconciled, 
 And hear him say, " A pretty friend you are. 
 To meet my daughter leaving the bazaar. 
 And not accost her, or present your hand, 
 And seek to win her love ! And yet you stand 
 Among our oldest friends." 
 
 Hoopoo. 
 
 O coward heart. 
 That loves to play this most unworthy part ! 
 But such a place there is, and prosperous, too. 
 Beside the Red Sea. 
 
 EUELPIDES. 
 
 That would never do ! 
 The Salaminia,' if we went there, 
 Might some fine day " pop '' on us unaware, 
 With constable on board : that were a pity ! 
 Now can't you recommend some Grecian city ? 
 
 Hoopoo. 
 Why don't you go and live at Lepreum, 
 In Elis ? 
 
 EUELPIDF.S. 
 
 That shall never be my home. 
 By all the gods I solemnly protest ; 
 Not that I've seen the city, but detest 
 The name of leper for Melanthius'^ sake. 
 
 Hoopoo. 
 Well, there's another city : go and make 
 Opuntii of Locris your abode. 
 
 ' A state galley used to bring prisoners home for trial. 
 ^ Melanthius was a poet afflicted with leprosy. 
 
284 THE BIRDS. 
 
 EUELPIDES. 
 
 I would not be Opuntius ' for a load 
 
 Of golden treasure. But, sir, please to tell 
 
 What life the birds lead, since you know it well. 
 
 Hoopoo. 
 For rubbing smoothly on it might be worse : 
 Firstly, we have no need to wear a purse. 
 
 EUELPIDES. 
 
 Thus loads of life's base metal you decline. 
 
 Hoopoo. 
 In gardens on white sesame we dine. 
 With myrtle-berries, mint, and poppy-seed. 
 
 EUELPIDES. 
 
 You lead a very jovial life indeed, 
 A constant kotiey-moon ! 
 
 Peisthet^rus. [Musi/i^/y. 
 
 Hum ! Ha ! I spy a plan by which you birds 
 May rise to power if ycu obey my words. 
 
 Hoopoo. 
 Obey in what ? 
 
 PeISTHETjERUS. 
 
 In what ! First cease to stare, 
 And gape, and flutter here and everywhere. 
 For this is a disreputable way : 
 And I allege, in proof of what I say. 
 That if the question there with us were heard 
 About such flutterers : " Who is yonder bird? " 
 Teleas would forthwith have this answer ready : 
 " A flighty creature, fickle, and unsteady; 
 
 ' Opuntius, a one-eyed man, is here ridiculed. (See line 1,294.) 
 
THE BIRDS. 285 
 
 You never know the proper place to find him, 
 Now here, now gone, leaving no mark behind him." 
 
 Hoopoo. 
 Quite true, by Bacchus, there you hit us hard ; 
 What can we do ? 
 
 Peisthet^rus. 
 
 One city build and guard. 
 
 Hoopoo. 
 Birds build a city ! Shouldn't we " make a hash " ? 
 
 Peisthet^erus. 
 Indeed ! O talker of most arrant trash, 
 Look down. 
 
 Hoopoo. 
 All right ! I follow your direction. 
 
 PeISTHETjERUS. 
 
 Look up. 
 
 Hoopoo. 
 I've not a shadow of objection. 
 
 PeISTHETjERUS. 
 
 Now look around and twist your neck about. 
 
 Hoopoo. 
 Pleasant, if I should put my windpipe out ! 
 
 Peisthet^rus. 
 Did you see aught ? 
 
 Hoopoo. 
 •Nothing but earth and sky. 
 
 PEISTHETiERUS. 
 
 Well, is not this the Birds' Pole 1 
 
 HooPOO. 
 
 Birds' Pole ! Why ? 
 
286 THE BIRDS. 
 
 Peisthet^rus. 
 For "Pole" read space ; and space being much frequented 
 By birds, the name was naturally invented. 
 Which, if at once you wall and fortify, 
 " Birds' Pole " will thus become Birds' Polity. 
 So will you lule men like the locust nation, 
 And waste the gods with Melian' starvation. 
 
 Hoopoo. 
 But how ? 
 
 Peisthet^rus. 
 The air is in the midst, you know, 
 Between the heavens above and earth below. 
 Now just as we, to Delphian temple bound, 
 Must beg a passport through Boeotian ground ; 
 So, when mankind would offer sacrifice. 
 Unless the gods will pay you your own price, 
 You won't permit one savoury whiff to clear 
 Your foreign city in the atmosphere. 
 
 Hoopoo. 
 Hurrah ! Hurrah ! 
 
 By earth ! by snares ! by clouds ! by nets so fine ! 
 I never heard a daintier design; 
 Done ! I will found this polity with you, 
 If all the other birds consent thereto. 
 
 PeISTHETjERUS. 
 
 Who then shall make the explanatory speech ? 
 
 Hoopoo. 
 Yourself; for I've contrived in time to teach 
 The erst barbarian birds I live among 
 To speak and understand the Attic tongue. 
 
 ■ Alluding to the reduction of Melos by famine, two years before 
 Aristophanes wrote " The Birds." 
 
THE BIRDS. 287 
 
 Peisthet^rus. 
 But how can you assemble them? 
 
 Hoopoo. 
 
 With ease. 
 I hop forthwith within this grove of trees ; 
 Then having roused my own dear nightingale, 
 We summon them : and as they hear our hail, 
 Whole flocks will hasten hither at full sail. 
 
 PeISTHETjERUS. 
 
 O dearest of the birds, make no delay : 
 Go, I entreat you, with what speed you may ; 
 Retire within the grove, as you propose. 
 And rouse your nightingale from her repose. 
 
 [Exit Hoopoo. 
 
 PART II. 
 
 Hoopoo. \Chants within. 
 
 Come, sweetest mate, arise, awake ; 
 
 Shake off thy silent slumbers ; 
 Set free, dear singer, for my sake. 
 
 The charm of thy mystic numbers. 
 
 Pour forth through tawny throat divine 
 The strain a world's delight is, 
 
 Our common sorrow, mine and thine. 
 The death of long-wept Itys. 
 
 Unbroken thrills the echo fair, 
 Through shade of leafy yews, 
 
 Unbroken through the hstening air, 
 Up to the throne of Zeus. 
 
2 88 THE BIRDS. 
 
 Where Phoebus, with the locks of gold, 
 
 Takes up his ivory lyre, 
 And harps the harpings manifold, 
 
 Thine elegies inspire. 
 Then bids the choirs celestial sing, ' 
 
 In answering intonation ; 
 Till heaven itself is chorusing 
 
 Thy musical lamentation. 
 
 \The Nightingale sings. 
 
 Peisthet^rus. 
 Zeus, O Lord, what a brave song is this ! 
 It steeps the very grove in honey-bliss ! 
 
 EUELPIDES. 
 
 You, sir ! 
 
 Peisthet^rus. 
 What now? 
 
 EUELPIDES. 
 
 Pray stop your prating vein ; 
 The Hoopoe tunes his note to sing again. 
 
 Hoopoo. [ Within. 
 
 Epopopopopopopopopopoi ! 
 lo, io, ito, ito, ito ito ! 
 Hither, fly hither, companions mine. 
 On the fat comlands ye who dine : 
 Ye whose myriad families eat 
 Seeds of barley and seeds of wheat 
 Hither, come hither, and be not mute. 
 Warble in flying your soft salute ; 
 As many as chirp and sing around 
 The upturned clods of fertile ground. 
 Twittering so, 
 Tio, tio, tio, tio, tio, tio, tio, tio. 
 
THE BIRDS. 289 
 
 And all who live in your gardens merry, 
 And feed among boughs of the ivy-berry ; 
 Ye too who batten and shelter thus 
 On the mountain-olive and arbutus, 
 List to my song ; fly hither quick, 
 
 Trioto, trioto, totobric. 
 Ye who in hollows and marshy flats 
 Are hunting the swarms of stinging gnats, 
 And ye o'er dewy meads who run, 
 And the lovable plains of Marathon ; 
 Thou, too,' bird of mottled feather, 
 Woodcock, woodcock, hasten hither ! 
 And ye who with the halcyons sweep 
 Over the surge of the billowy deep, 
 Hither away to the news we bring. 
 For all our tribes are gathering ; 
 AH the tribes of the long-necked birds 
 Flock to listen to the words 
 Of a senior keen of mind. 
 Who is come, as you will find, 
 To discover notions new 
 And unheard-of deeds to you. 
 Therefore thus I perch and call 
 To the conference one and all. 
 Hither, hither, hither, hither, quick ! 
 Toro-toro-toro-toro-tic ! 
 
 Kikkabau ! kikkabau ! 
 Toro-toro-toro-toro, lilililix ! 
 
290 THE BIRDS. 
 
 PART III. 
 
 Peisthet^rus. 
 See'st thou a bird ? 
 
 EUELPIDES. 
 
 By PhcEbus, no, not I, 
 Though all this time I've gaped up at the sky. 
 
 PeISTHETjERUS. 
 
 So then it seems the Hoopoe went in vain 
 Into the grove and mocked the Curlew's strain. 
 
 Flamingo. \In the distance. 
 
 Torotix, torotix. \Enter Hoopoo with Flamingo. 
 
 Peisthet^rus. 
 Lo, our friend !. and I declare some other bird to pay a visit. 
 
 EUELPIDES. 
 
 Sure enough a bird ! What is he?' Not the peacock's 
 plumage, is it ? 
 
 Peisthet^rus. 
 That our friend himself shall tell us. What bird is it 
 comes this way ? 
 
 Hoopoo. ■ 
 This is not a common-fledgeling such as you see every day, 
 But a holiday bird. 
 
 PEISTHETiERUS. 
 
 How fine andyfrtOT^-coloured he is, by jingo I 
 
 Hoopoo. 
 Not at all unlikely, is it, when his title is Flamingo ? 
 
 EUELPIDES. 
 
 Prithee, look you here ! 
 
 Peisthet/erus. 
 
 Why call me? 
 
THE BIRDS. 291 
 
 EUELPIDES. 
 
 Here's a bird of different nature. 
 
 Peisthet/erus. 
 Different indeed ! I warrant this is some outlandish 
 
 creature. 
 What can be this bird ridiculous, dunghill- strutting, 
 omen-crowing? 
 
 Hoopoo. 
 He is called the Persian. 
 
 PeISTHETjERUS. 
 
 Persian ! Hercules, 'tis well worth knowing 
 How he flew without his camel zX^ the way from east to west. 
 
 Euelpides. 
 Lo, another T)ird approaches with an elevated crest. 
 
 Peisthet^rus. \To the Hoopoo. 
 Strange ! Then you are not the only Hoopoo : here's a 
 second one ! 
 
 Hoopoo. 
 He's the son of Philocles, and Philocles is Hoopoo's son. 
 Hence you seeI'mhisgrandfather,asitoften comes to pass, 
 Kallias begets Hipponicus and Hipponicus Kallias. 
 
 Peisthet^rus. 
 Kallias he is for certain ; since his plumage is so scant. 
 
 Hoopoo. 
 Being noble, he is therefore plucked by every sycophant ; 
 And his lady-birds, moreover, know the way to pluck 
 him well. . 
 
 PEISTHETiERUS. 
 
 O Poseidon ! here's another ; isn't this a gorgeous swell ? 
 What is his name ? 
 
 Hoopoo. 
 He's called the Glutton. 
 
292 THE BIRDS. 
 
 Peisthet^rus. 
 
 That must be Cleonymus ! 
 Or is there a second glutton added to the one with us ? 
 
 EUELPIDES. 
 
 How can this be our Cleonymus, since his top-knot is 
 unshorn ? 
 
 PEISTHETiERUS. 
 
 Tell me, by the way, the reason why these mountain- 
 crests are worn. 
 Are they coming to the races ? 
 
 Hoopoo. 
 
 Rather say that they prefer 
 Mountain-crests in Carian fashion for security, good sir. 
 
 PEISTHETiERUS. 
 
 What a plague of birds, Poseidon ! See their mingled 
 masses pour. 
 
 EUELPIDES. 
 
 Such a cloud, O King Apollo, I can scarcely see the 
 
 door. 
 
 Peisthet^erus. 
 Here a Partridge and a Halcyon, there a Woodcock and 
 
 a Teal. 
 
 EUELPIDES. 
 
 Who is that bird close behind her ? 
 
 Hoopoo. 
 
 If I must his name reveal, 
 'Tis the Razor-bill. 
 
 EUELPIDES. 
 
 What say you ? Can a barber be a bird ? 
 
 PEISTHETiERUS. 
 
 Is not Sporgilus an instance ? Here's the Owl, upon 
 my word. 
 
THE BIRDS. 293 
 
 EUELPIDES. 
 
 Owl/ say you? What dolt to Athens ever- thinks of 
 
 carrying owls ? 
 
 Peisthet^rus. 
 Enter Jay, Dove, Lark, and Buzzard ; Pigeons too, and 
 
 Water-fowls, 
 Kite, Hawk, Cuckoo, Ringdove, Redstart, Porphyry, 
 
 and Crimson-Foot, 
 Ocean-Eagle, and Tree-Creeper, Falcon, Finch, and 
 
 Diving-Coot 
 
 EuELPiDES. \Taking alarm. 
 
 Oh dear, what flocks of birds ! 
 
 Blackbirds, I declare ! 
 How they chirp and chatter. 
 
 Hopping here and there ! 
 You and me they menace. 
 
 Else what makes them thus 
 Gape with beaks distended. 
 
 Glowering at us ? 
 
 PeISTHETjERUS. 
 
 Yes, I really think it is so. 
 
 Chorus of Birds. 
 
 PopopoiJopopopou ! 
 Please inform me who has called me, where he feeds, 
 and when, and how ? 
 
 Hoopoo. 
 Here I am, the same as always. I desert my friends? 
 no, never ! 
 
 ' The image of the owl, the bird of Pallas, was as common at Athens 
 as bears at Bern. So that carrying owls to Athens would correspond 
 to our own proverb about carrying coals to Newcastle. 
 
294 THE BIRDS. 
 
 Chorus. 
 Titititititi ! tell me what kind message you deliver. 
 
 Hoopoo. 
 One that's public, prudent, righteous ; pleasant and 
 
 expedient is it : 
 For two men, shrewd calculators, have arrived here on a 
 visit. 
 
 Chorus. 
 Wliere, O where ? What say'st thou ? 
 
 Hoopoo. 
 This — that hither from the haunts of man, 
 Have arrived two reverend persons to divulge a monster 
 plan. 
 
 Chorus. 
 O thou most transcendent sinner seen since I was 
 
 hatched a bird ! 
 What is this that thou art saying ? 
 
 Hoopoo. 
 
 Don't be startled at a word. 
 
 Chorus. 
 Say what evil thou hast done me. 
 
 Hoopoo. 
 
 I have entertained two men 
 Who were eager for this meeting. 
 
 Chorus. 
 Thou hast done this action then ? 
 
 Hoopoo. 
 Yes, and I am glad I've done it. • 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 Also are this precious brace 
 Here amons; us at this moment ? 
 
THE BIRDS. 295 
 
 Hoopoo. 
 
 Yes, if I am in this place. 
 
 Chorus. 
 Alas, alas ! we are betrayed ! 
 
 Ah, treatment most unholy ! 
 For one who show of friendship made 
 
 Has played the traitor wholly. 
 Erewhile disporting at our side 
 
 He pecked the selfsame plain. 
 But now, our ancient rules defied. 
 
 And bird-oaths all in vain. 
 He has enticed me to the snare, 
 
 Betrayed me to the foe, 
 Accursfed race ! without compare 
 The bitterest I know. 
 But there's time enough hereafter to adjust accounts with 
 
 him. 
 Now, I vote, we pay these seniors and divide them limb 
 from limb. 
 
 PeisthkTjERUS. \In consternation. 
 So we're done for ! 
 
 EuELPiDES. \Savagdy. 
 
 'Tis your doing ! yes, the blame is all your own. 
 Wherefore bring me from my country ? 
 
 PEISTHETiERUS. \Coolly. 
 
 I dislike a tour alone. 
 
 EUELPIDES. 
 
 To my bitter weeping. 
 
 PEISTHETiERUS. 
 
 Nonsense ! you are daft to make this rout : 
 For your weeping must be ended when your eyes are both 
 torn out. 
 
396 THE BIRDS. 
 
 Chorus. \Bellicosdy. 
 
 Ha ! ha ! begin the fierce attack, 
 
 Lead on the bloody charge ! 
 Surround the foe, a circle make 
 
 With outstretched pinions large. 
 For these two mortals are our prey, 
 
 A fierce revenge to wreak, 
 Till they shall groan their souls away 
 
 Beneath our torturing beaK. 
 No shadowy cave on mountain-side. 
 
 No spot in the foaming sea. 
 No cloud that in aery height doth ride 
 Shall shield their lives from me. 
 Let us now delay no longer, but proceed to pluck an i 
 
 bite ; 
 Where's the General of Division ? Let him forthwith 
 lead the right. 
 
 EUELPIDES. 
 
 It is come to this ! Ah, whither can I fly ? 
 
 Peisthet^rus. 
 
 Stand still, I say. 
 
 EUELPIDES. 
 
 Yes, till I am pecked to atoms. 
 
 Peisthet^rus. 
 How d'ye think to escape them, pray? 
 
 EUELPIDES. 
 
 Ah, I know not ! 
 
 PeISTHETjERUS. 
 
 Then I'll tell you, we must make a plucky stand, 
 And engage in battle, holding earthen pitchers in our 
 hand. 
 
THE BIRDS. 297 
 
 EUELPIDES. 
 
 How will pitchers help ? 
 
 PeISTHETjERUS. 
 
 The Owl will see her portrait and forbear. 
 
 EUELPIDES. 
 
 Ah, those crooked-taloned creatures 
 
 Peisthet^rus. 
 
 Seize the spit that's lying there, 
 Hold it with firm grasp before you. 
 
 EUELPIDES. 
 
 Ah, but how about our eyes ? 
 
 PeISTHET/ERUS. 
 
 Take d. cup, or vinegar-saucer, and protect them buckler- 
 wise. 
 
 EUELPIDES. 
 
 Clever fellow, you have planned it like a general of 
 
 forces ; 
 Nicias himself out-shooting in invention of resources. 
 
 Chorus. 
 EUeleleu ! with beaks presented, charge ! delay not at 
 
 the call. 
 Drag them, pluck them, strike them, skin them. Break 
 
 their pitchers first of all. 
 
 HooPOO. [Interposing. 
 
 Vilest of all savage creatures ! Tell me why this fell 
 
 intent. 
 Suffering no provocation, to destroy the innocent ? 
 Will you tear two men in pieces in unreasonable strife, 
 When they both are fellow-tribesmen and near kinsmen of 
 
 my wife ? 
 
298 THE BIRDS. 
 
 Chorus. 
 Why should we in pity spare them more than wolves and 
 
 beasts of prey ? 
 Could we ever punish any dyed with blacker crimes than 
 they? 
 
 Hoopoo. 
 What if enemies by nature, yet in disposition friends, 
 They are come to teach us something which will vastly 
 serve our ends ? 
 
 Chorus. 
 How can we expect to gather any useful lore from those 
 Who have been for generations our hereditary foes ? 
 
 Hoopoo. 
 Yet the wise may many lessons from their enemies 
 
 procure ; 
 As an instance, take the proverb, " Make assurance 
 
 doubly sure." 
 This your friend would never teach you in whatever 
 
 way you turn it ; 
 But your eiumy will straightway by experience make you 
 
 learn it 
 Here's a case in point : their foes and not their friends 
 
 compel the States 
 To expend their wealth and labour in providing walls 
 
 and gates. 
 And obtaining armfed vessels ; yet such preparations are 
 Means of safety for the children, house, and goods in 
 
 case of war. 
 
 Chorus. 
 Well, I think it may be useful first to hear what they 
 
 propose. 
 For we may learn something clever though the teachers 
 
 be our foes. 
 
THE BIRDS.. 299 
 
 PeistheTvErus. \Aside to Euelpides. 
 As their fury seems to slacken, comrade, you may stand 
 at ease. 
 
 Hoopoo. \To Chorus. 
 
 Yes, and gratitude should teach you in my case to try 
 and please. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 - Granted : but, indeed, we never did oppose you 
 heretofore. 
 
 PeisthetjErus., \_To Euelpides. 
 Signs of settlement pacific are appearing more and more. 
 Therefore you 
 Pile arms ! Your dish and saucers two, 
 A barricade ! 
 Then screened by it. 
 We shoulder spit. 
 Spear ready-made ; 
 And o'er the rim, 
 Like sentries grim. 
 Bold face display. 
 And never, never run away ! 
 
 Euelpides. 
 AU vastly fine ; but should we chance to perish. 
 Where shall we find a giave ? 
 
 PeISTHET/ERUS. 
 
 The Ceramicus such a pair would cherish. 
 
 And we should surely have 
 A public funeral at the city!s cost. 
 For (so we'll tell the generals) we lost 
 Our lives contending with a hostile band 
 In Feather-land. 
 
300 THE BIRDS. 
 
 Chorus. 
 Fall back ! and as before form line, 
 
 Your passion steady ! 
 As soldiers on their spears recline, 
 Rest, but be ready ! 
 And let us ask these men to tell their name, 
 And what their errand is, and whence they came. 
 Hoopoo, I'm calling you ! Hallo ! 
 
 Hoopoo. 
 Well, what do you desire to know ? 
 
 Chorus. 
 Who they are — whence come these fellows. 
 
 Hoopoo. 
 Guests of rnine from clever Hellas. 
 
 Chorus. 
 What mischances 
 
 To the jays 
 (As we might say) 
 
 These gentry drew? 
 
 Hoopoq. 
 Fervent fancies 
 
 For your ways, 
 To dwell, and stay 
 
 For good with you. 
 
 Chorus. 
 Indeed? Report their words in brief. 
 
 Hoopoo. 
 Such words as beggar all belief. 
 
THE BIRDS. 301 
 
 Chorus. 
 Sees he some gain here worth the stay, 
 Whereby he hopes to find a way 
 To compass through our aid his ends 
 In conquering foes or helping friends ? 
 
 Hoopoo. 
 He paints prosperity too great 
 For one to credit or relate, 
 Asserting that the earth and air 
 Above, below, arid everywhere, 
 Belong to you, your just dominion ; 
 And I incline to this opinion. 
 
 Chorus. 
 Do you consider him insane? 
 
 Hoopoo. 
 Oh, no ! he has a power of brain. 
 
 Chorus. 
 Some spark of shrewdness in his mind ? 
 
 Hoopoo. 
 The subtlest fox that you could find, 
 Dodger, trickster, sharper, cheat, 
 Pohshed, perfect, and complete. 
 
 Chorus. 
 Bid him utter, bid him utter this communication. 
 Since you spake my pinions flutter with anticipation. 
 
 Hoopoo. 
 \To PeistheTjERus cmd Euelpides. 
 Now you, and you, sirs, take your weapons back, 
 Suspend them for good-luck behind the jack 
 Within the chimney corner, and commence 
 The reason why I called this conference. 
 
302 THE BIRDS. 
 
 Peisthet^erus. 
 By Phoebus, they shall hear no word from me, 
 Unless to that agreement they agree 
 Which was agreed, to put an end to strife. 
 Between the monkey-armourer and his wife : 
 " Neither to pluck nor claw in any wise " 
 
 Chorus. 
 No, no, of course not. 
 
 Peisthet^rus. 
 
 I allude to eyes. 
 
 Chorus. 
 Agreed ! 
 
 Peisthet^rus. 
 Then seal the compact with an oat^. 
 
 Chorus. 
 Well, if I keep it, may I conquer both 
 By vote of audience and the judges all. ' 
 
 Peisthet-erus. 
 Yes, that will do. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 But should I ever fall 
 From my agreement, may the prize be won 
 By barely a majority of one. 
 
 Peisthet^rus. 
 Hear, all ye people. Let this armed array 
 Put up their weapons now and march away ; 
 But let them all observe with watchful care 
 The notice-boards and what we publish there. , 
 
 \Exeimt populace. 
 
 ■At the festival of Dionysia five judges were chosen by ballot to avtard 
 the prize to the best Tragedy and Comedy. 
 
THE BIRDS. 303 
 
 PART IV. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 Mankind are traitors every way, 
 
 By birth and education ; 
 Yet speak, if knowing, as you say. 
 
 Some plan to aid our nation. 
 It may be you have seen in me 
 
 Advantages omitted, 
 As they may very likely be 
 By one so slender-witted ; 
 But you can see them, so declare 
 
 Whatever you have spied. 
 And know that you yourself shall share 
 The blessings you provide. 
 But why you are come thus far from home ; induced by 
 
 what mental persuasioh ; 
 Explain and be bold, for till all be told the truce shall 
 not suffer invasion. 
 
 PElSTHETiERUS. 
 
 I've a speech in the making : nought hinders the baking : 
 
 by heaven, I'm hot to begin it. 
 Boy, bring me a fillet, and water (don't spill it) to make 
 
 a lustration this minute. 
 
 EUELPIDES. 
 
 Are we going to sup ? or what is now up ? 
 
 Peisthet^rus. \To Euelpides. 
 
 I desire to commence my oration, 
 
 Something ancient and gross, rhodomontade verbose, to 
 
 astonish the nerves of the nation. \To the Birds. 
 
 Thus, friends, for your sake, lamentation I make, who 
 
 formerly having been n ckoned 
 Kings 
 
304 THE BIRDS. 
 
 Chorus. 
 Kings, do you say ? Who acknowledged our sway ? 
 
 PeISTHETjERUS. 
 
 I for one, and my friend for a second ; 
 Nay, all things, e'en Zeus ; for I mean to produce good 
 
 proof, which I hope you will swallow, 
 Of anterior birth to Sun, Saturn, and Earth 
 
 Chorus. 
 What, to Earth ? 
 
 Peisthet^rus. 
 
 Yes, to Earth, by Apollo ! 
 
 Chorus. 
 By Zeus ! not one word of all this have I heard. 
 
 PeISTHETvERUS. 
 
 Why not ? You are slow at your learning. 
 And from morning to night all business you slight, when 
 
 your .^sop you ought to be turning ; 
 He has solemnly stated, ere earth was created, that a 
 
 Lark first rose in the stillness. 
 And it came to pass, that her father, alas ! fell ill, and 
 
 died of his illness. 
 But the earth was not, so she found no spot for burial 
 
 devices. 
 And he lay in state till the fifth day late, and matters 
 
 came to a crisis. 
 Till the poor Lark gave her own head for a grave, and 
 
 therein she buried her father. 
 
 EUELPIDES. 
 
 So this father, dead, still lies buried at Head ! ' 
 
 ■ The village of Attica mentioned is Kephalse, which means head. 
 Perhaps read : " Still lies at Spithead." 
 
THE BIRDS. 305 
 
 Hoopoo. 
 
 He reasons d. fortiori 
 That the Birds by birth bein^ before the Earth, were 
 
 before tlie gods in story, 
 And the kingdom is theirs as the most ancient heirs : no 
 argument could be stronger. 
 
 EUELPIDES. 
 
 By Apollo! your right must be. won by fight; so keep 
 
 your beaks in good order : 
 For I cannot suppose, without some blows, King Zeus 
 
 will cross the border. 
 And resign his exchequer to King Woodpecker ! 
 
 PEISTHETiERUS. 
 
 Yet the truth of my allegation 
 That the rulers of men were not gods, but Birds then, 
 
 who were kings in their generation, 
 I can easily show by proofs that you know and within 
 
 your own observation. 
 Let me claim your attention while foremost I mention 
 
 the Cock, who will surely amaze us. 
 For he called the throne of Persia his own ere Darius 
 
 and Megabazus, 
 And he takes by reversion the title of Persian,^ a sign 
 
 of his anc ient dominions. 
 
 EUELPIDES. 
 
 And therefore in state, like a monarch great, he plumes 
 
 his royal pinions. 
 Or lifts his head with a dignified tread, and proudly carries 
 
 upon it. 
 Alone of his sect, the comb erect, in the shape of a Persian 
 
 . bonnet. 
 
 ' The dunghill cock was in Aristophanes' days called the Persian 
 bird, in the same way as a kindred brood recently imported are called 
 Cochin China. 
 
3o6 THE BIRDS. 
 
 Peisthet^rus. 
 For his influence then, and his power over men, a fact to 
 
 this present day vouches ; 
 When in earliest morning he crows out his warning, all 
 
 leap up to work from their couches, 
 Each after his manner, the tinner, the tanner, the cobbler, 
 
 the bather, the baker, 
 The burner of tiles, and shields-of-all-styles-and-musical- 
 
 instrument maker. 
 They have no time to lose ; so they slip on their shoes, 
 
 and away in the dark. 
 
 EUELPIDES. 
 
 I can tell you 
 A tale apropos, for I lost by his crow, to my sorrow, a 
 
 cloak of much value. 
 At a feast in the city I drank, more's the pity, a little too 
 
 much without knowing. 
 So I dozed like a sinner till, just before dinner, this 
 
 rascally Cock began crowing, 
 Then I woke in a fright, thought I'd slept all the night, 
 
 and set off to Alimys trotting. 
 When, peeping about, the town wall without, a thief on 
 
 his rounds garotting 
 Gave me such a whack with his club, on my b9,ck, thai I 
 
 fell and was going to cry " murther,' 
 When he snatched off my cloak, and concluded the joke, 
 
 for he did not molest me further. 
 
 Peisthet^rus. 
 Greeks acknowledged the right of their sovereign the 
 Kite, and he was the king of that nation. 
 
 Hoopoo. 
 Of the Greeks do you say ? 
 
THE BIRDS. 307 
 
 Peisthet^rus. 
 And he taught them the way to salaam to each Kite his 
 relation. 
 
 EUFLPIDES. 
 
 Yes, and I, luckless wight, once salaamed to a Kite, and 
 
 gaping his swift flight to follow, 
 I leant too far back, and managed, alack ! my very last 
 
 sixpence to swallow, 
 Then sneaked home the worse for an empty purse. 
 
 PeISTHETjERUS. 
 
 But again over Egypt and Sidon 
 And the country around the Cuckoo is found his govern- 
 ing powers to have tried on ; 
 And wherever, look you, their king sang " Cuckoo J^ then all 
 
 the Phoenicians early 
 In the corn^(^6.s would meet to harvest the wheat and 
 gather the bearded barley. 
 
 EUELPIDES. 
 
 Whence beyond all doubt the proverb, " Come out to 
 the plain ; 'tis the Cuckoo, Phoenicians." 
 
 Peisthet^rus. 
 And their rule, it is clear, was so severe, that where men 
 
 held royal commissions. 
 As they did, by lease, in cities of Greece, Agamemnon 
 
 or Menelaus, 
 A bird used to hop on their sceptre-top for your share of 
 
 what folk might pay us. 
 
 Euelpides. 
 This fact, I must own, was to me unknown, and it ofteii 
 struck me with wonder 
 
 21 * 
 
3o8 THE BIRDS. 
 
 When some Priam' appeared, with a bird upreared, among 
 
 the tragedians yonder, 
 Who perched at his ease, and when Lysicrates took a 
 
 bribe, would observe it and ponder. 
 
 PEISTHETiERUS. 
 
 Now this next proof I call the most cogent of all, that 
 
 Zeus in his character regal 
 Always bears on his pate, in solemn state, a bird — the 
 
 majestic Eagle; 
 And his daughter an Owl; while as slave to the fowl, 
 
 Apollo sustains a Falcon. 
 
 EUELPIDES. 
 
 But wherefore, I pray, this curious array ? (By Geres ! 
 how glibly you talk on.) 
 
 PeISTHETjBRUS. 
 
 When each offerer stands, and puts into the hands of the 
 
 gods (for 'tis thus they adore them) 
 Any morsel that's nice of the sacrifice, that the Birds may 
 
 devour it before them. 
 And nobody swore by a god before, but the name of 
 
 some Bird repeating. 
 As Lampon to this day calls a Goose (people say) to 
 
 witness when he is cheating. 
 So sacred and great was the Royal State universally held 
 
 by this meeting ! 
 
 But now they will not own you. 
 You are dolts and fools and mad ; 
 
 And like scarecrows they will stone you 
 Where stones are to be had ; 
 
 ' Perhaps the actor who personified Priam was noted for his avarice. 
 
THE BIRDS. 309 
 
 Even near the sacred temples, 
 
 Each wily fowler sets 
 His gins, and snares, and lime twigs, 
 
 And traps, and wires, and nets. 
 And when they thus have caught you, 
 
 They sell you in a lot, 
 And the customers who bought you 
 
 Feel how much breast you've got 
 This scurvy treatment brooking, 
 
 You might expect some peace. 
 And being consigned to cooking 
 
 To be roasted and to cease. 
 No ! they get vile cheese and grate it, 
 
 Oil, vinegar, and cress j 
 They then manipulate it 
 
 To a greasy, sticky mess ; 
 And when at length 'tis boiling, 
 
 They take the reeking stew. 
 As if you were but carrion. 
 
 And dash it over you. 
 
 Chorus. 
 'O man, thy words are hard to bear ; 
 
 So very hard indeed. 
 
 It makes my spirit bleed 
 To know how base my fathers were. 
 For they abandoning the right 
 
 Their ancestors entailed, . 
 
 In my day it has failed, 
 And brought me to a wretched plight 1 
 But thou art come by chance divine 
 
 To save. So, while I live. 
 
 Into thy charge I give 
 My fledgelings, and whatever else is mine. 
 
3IO THE BIRDS. 
 
 But teach us, being here, what course we must steer ; for 
 
 life is not worth retaining, 
 Unless, as before, we completely restore to the Birds 
 
 their position of reigning. 
 
 PEISTHETiERUS. 
 
 My first exhortation is centralisation ! One Bird-City 
 
 I would set eyes on ! 
 You must then fortify all space between sky and earth, 
 
 to the circling horizon. 
 With bricks, every one baked hard in the sun, like the 
 
 blocks of the Tower of Babel. 
 
 Hoopoo. 
 O Kebrion old ! O Porphyry bold ! Ye giants renowned 
 
 in fable ! 
 How grimly will frown our fortified town ! 
 
 Peisthet^rus. 
 Then, as soon as the battlements rise, you 
 
 Ask Zeus to restore your dominion of yore ; which re- 
 quest, if his godship denies you. 
 
 And cannot see why he should " eat humble pie" you 
 issue a proclamation 
 
 Of a grand crusade and a strict blockade against him 
 and his every relation. 
 
 And sternly refuse Poseidon or Zeus a passage via your 
 portals 
 
 When their godships are fain, in an amorous vein, to 
 visit their loves among mortals. 
 
 Their Alkmenes, Alopes, Semeles ; and should they per- 
 sist in scorning 
 
 Your royal command, fix upon them a brand which vi ill 
 -furnish the rest with a warning. 
 
THE BIRDS. 311 
 
 You must also send word by a herald-bird to mankind 
 
 with the following advices : 
 That the Birds again have begun to reign, and from 
 
 henceforth require sacrifices : 
 So the gods must be reckoned, not first, but second ; and 
 
 say they should class and assign them. 
 Bird and god two and two, as 'tis seemly to do, and 
 
 similar natures incline them. 
 Who for dame Aphrodite performs holy rite, he must 
 
 offer the Cootwheaten rations ; 
 Who gives Neptune a lamb, must first make his salaam 
 
 to the Dmk with his barley oblations. 
 Or, if Hercules he is wishing to please, the Gull must 
 
 have honey cakes kneaded ; 
 If a ram one should bring unto Zeus as his king, let him 
 
 know that King Wren has succeeded, 
 For whom, before Zeus, it is right to produce agnatoft/te 
 
 masculine gender. 
 
 EUELPIDES. 
 
 A sacrificed gnat ! Well, I'm tickled at that, in spite of the 
 
 Thunder-sender. 
 
 Hoopoa 
 But how will mankind ever tutor their mind as gods, and 
 
 not Daws, to hold us ? 
 We are fluttering things, and our shoulders bear wings. 
 
 PeISTHET/ERUS. 
 
 What folly to talk about shoulders ! 
 Look at Hermes ! He flies, and has wings likewise : and 
 
 a number of other gods, stupid ! 
 As Victory bold, with her pinions of gold, and at least 
 
 you have oft heard of Cupid. 
 
312 THE BIRDS. 
 
 Then the fluttering Dove, coming down from above, old 
 Homer matches with Iris. 
 
 Hoopoo. 
 
 And I shouldn't wonder if Zeus sent thunder, and taught 
 us what wingld fire is ! 
 
 Peisthet/erus. 
 
 But if men should refuse to allow us our dues, and so, 
 
 through ignorance, crimp us, 
 And unjustly bestow the worship they owe to us on these 
 
 gods of Olympus, 
 We must send down crowds of Sparrows, like clouds, 
 
 when the seedsowin^-time o the year is, 
 To peck up their grain, till they famish again, and then 
 
 let them go to Ceres ; 
 And let her, if she can, devise some plan to succour each 
 
 famishing nation, 
 And measure out corn from her copious horn to relieve 
 
 a world's starvation. 
 
 EUELPIDES. 
 
 With thanks she'll decline, I strongly opine, and present 
 them with specious excuses. 
 
 Peisthet^erus. 
 
 Then shall Ravens do battle by blinding their cattle for 
 agricultural uses ; 
 
 And peck the eyes out of the sheep round about each home- 
 stead, as fast as they stock it ; 
 
 And Apollo may cure all the wounds they endure, since 
 he puts all the fe'es in his pocket. 
 
THE BIRDS. 313 
 
 EUELPIDES. 
 
 But not till I get a good price for that pet pair of oxen 
 I've so much relied on. 
 
 PeISTHETjERUS. 
 
 But if they acknowledge in you the whole college of 
 
 gods, Kronos, Earth, and Poseidon, 
 Rich blessings shall fall on the heads of them all. 
 
 Hoopoo. 
 Just mention, I pray you, one blessing. 
 
 Peisthet^rus. 
 No locust brood shall eat the young wood and the shoots 
 
 of the vines they are dressing : 
 One detachment of fowls, either Falcons or Owls, will be 
 
 strong enough to defeat them ; 
 And their figs shall not fall, through wood-louse or gall ; 
 
 one covey of Thrushes shall eat them. 
 
 Hoopoo. 
 But now teach us whence to confer opulence; 'tis for 
 gold they are grievously pining. 
 
 PeISTHET/ERUS. 
 
 Birds- of divination shall give information what diggings 
 
 will pay them for mining : 
 And to which distant port it were best to resort with 
 
 money-making intention. 
 Then no skipper will be any more lost at sea. 
 
 Hoopoo. 
 By what novel mode of prevention ? 
 
 Peisthet^rus. 
 Some soothsaying Bird will just whisper a word to the 
 
 sailors, either remarking, 
 " Don't sail, for I spy a hurricane nigh," or, " Now's the 
 
 right time for embarking." 
 
3 '4 THE BIRDS. 
 
 EUELPIDES. 
 
 Then Til purchase a ship, and set out on a trip ; with 
 you I'll not linger at leisure. 
 
 PEISTHETjERUS. 
 
 They will likewise unfold chests hidden of old, for they 
 
 know all deposited treasure. 
 Whence the proverb oft heard, " Not a soul but a Bird 
 
 my S3i&-ht(iden hoard could discover.^' 
 
 EUELPIDES. 
 
 I'll sell my canoe, and purchase a hoe, and be turning 
 these treasure-pots over ! 
 
 Hoopoo. 
 So much then for wealth : but will you give them health, 
 when the gods can alone bestow it ? 
 
 PEISTHETiERUS. 
 
 If good-luck run strong, can health be far wrong ? I tell 
 
 you, although you must know it. 
 That the man who is " down in his luck,'' and " done 
 
 brown" must admit his unwholesome complexion. 
 
 Hoopoo. 
 But how will they reach good old age, since to each life 
 
 is under Olympian direction ? 
 Must they wither and die in their infancy ? 
 
 Peisthet^rus. 
 By Zeus, no ! the birds through addition 
 Their years will increase to three hundred apiece / 
 
 Hoopoo. 
 Indeed ! and by whose permission? 
 
 Peisthet^rus. 
 "By whose," do you ask? 'Tis the Birds' proper task. 
 Oh, where is your observation, 
 
THE BIRDS. 3'S 
 
 If you really don't know that the carrion Crow 'survives 
 to the fifth generation ? 
 
 EUELPIDES. 
 
 Three hisses for Zeus ! let him go to the deuce ! and 
 three cheers for the Birds' coronation. 
 
 Pkisthet/erus. 
 Oh, yes ! for birds, poor mortals 
 
 No marble fanes must build, 
 And their majestic portals 
 
 With precious metals gild. 
 The birds will dwell contented 
 
 In any hedge or tree, 
 And a simple branch of olive 
 
 Will be shrine for a grandee ! 
 If we ever v, ish to offer 
 
 A sacrifice or so. 
 To Ammon or to Delphi 
 
 We shan't be forced to go ; 
 But beneath the oleasters, 
 
 Or the arbutus to stand, 
 In the presence of our masters. 
 
 And upreaching either hand ; 
 For a little wheat and barley, 
 
 And a few brief words of prayer, 
 They will grant us in their blessings 
 
 A considerable share ! 
 
 Chorus. 
 O dearest to me of all elders that be ! O loved one, 
 
 whom lately I hated ! 
 No powers shall make me ever forsake the excellent 
 
 plan thou hast stated. 
 
3i6 THE BIRDS. 
 
 But in thy speech exulting, 
 
 I have threatened with an oath, 
 If to me in faith and honour 
 
 Thou wilt frankly plight thy troth, 
 And proceed against the gods with 
 
 Consentaneous design, 
 They shall quickly cease to meddle 
 With the sceptre that is mine. 
 What depends upon force, we Birds of course will make 
 
 ourselves ready to bide it, , 
 
 But if need should arise of wit to advise, and subtle' y, 
 you must provide it 
 
 Hoopoo. 
 And now I swear by Zeus, this is no day 
 For us to shilly-shally and delay. 
 Prompt action is the word ! But first, sirs, rest 
 Awhile within ray thatched and reedy nest, 
 And tell your names. 
 
 PEISTHETiERUS. 
 
 With pleasure, sir ; my name 
 Is Peisthetserus. 
 
 Hoopoo. 
 His? 
 
 Peisthet/erus. 
 
 As known to fame, 
 Euelpides of Chrius. 
 
 Hoopoo. 
 
 Welcome both ! 
 
 Peisthet^rus. 
 And we accept your kindness nothing loth. 
 
THE BIRDS. 317 
 
 Hoopoo. 
 Walk in, I beg. 
 
 Peisthet^rus. 
 Come on. \To Euelpides. 
 
 Pray go before, \To Hoopoo. 
 And guide our entrance through the narrow door. 
 
 Hoopoo. 
 Pinter ! 
 
 PeISTHETjERUS. 
 
 But, What's-your-name, put back and tell 
 How we are able, he and I, to dwell 
 Wingless with wingld creatures. 
 
 Hoopoo. \Turiiing back. 
 
 Amply able ! 
 
 PeISTHETjERUS. 
 
 But let me draw your notice to a fable 
 Of ^sop, how a fox once came to grief 
 Through his alliance with your Eagle chief. 
 
 Hoopoo. 
 Fear not : there is a certain little root ; 
 You shall both eat it, and your wings will shoot. 
 
 Peisthet^rus. 
 If that may be, lead on. [Come, Manodorus 
 And Xanthias, carry the beds beforfe us.'] 
 
 Chorus. 
 Sir, I call you, I call ! 
 
 Hoopoo. 
 But wherefore thus bawl ? 
 
 ■ These words seem to be addressed to the stage attendants, and have 
 little force. 
 
3 '8 THE BIRDS. 
 
 Chorus. 
 Take and breakfast these men at your leisure, 
 ■Only bring out and leave the Sweet Songstress of Eve, 
 the Muses' delight, for our pleasure. 
 
 Peisthet^rus. 
 Yes, I entreat you, listen to their prayer. 
 And lead the dear Bird from the rushes there. 
 
 EUELPIDES. 
 
 Oh, lead her forth ! For pity's sake, don't fail. 
 That we may both behold the Nightingale. 
 
 \Enter Procnk. 
 PeistheTjERUS. [ With rapture. 
 
 Heav'ns ! what a lovely Bird ! How soft and fair ! 
 With heavy gold chain such as virgins wear ! 
 
 EUELPIDES. 
 
 Methinks I'll steal a kiss ; yes, that I will ! 
 
 PEISTHETiERUS. 
 
 Stop, wretched dolt, beware ^ex pointed bill ! 
 
 EUELPIDES. 
 
 All right ! for like a boiled egg when you peel it, 
 I'll put her mask' aside before I steal it. 
 
 Hoopoo. , 
 
 Now let us go. 
 
 PEISTHETjERUS. 
 
 Lead on, we follow thee. 
 'Tis needful for good luck. So let it be ! 
 
 \Exeiint Hoopoo, Peisthet^rus, Euelpides. 
 
 ' The Nightingale was represented by a graceful actress in abird-mask. 
 
THE BIRDS. 3 1 9 
 
 PART V. 
 Chorus. 
 
 O sweet brown bird, I love thee best, 
 
 Dear fellow-songstress hail ! 
 Thou art come, thou art come, and my 
 eyes are blest 
 
 To behold thee, Nightingale : 
 Oh, wed thy gurgling voice with mine 
 And we will sing our hymns divine. 
 
 Ah, tune for me that silvery quill 
 
 To its melodious ring, 
 And warble free and loud and shrill 
 
 The minstrelsy of spring. 
 Begin, begin the rapturous feast 
 Of ;thy stately musical anapaest. 
 
 [Chorus, with Nightingale accompanivient. 
 
 Come, O mankind, by nature bhnd, like leaves in your 
 
 generation, 
 O do-little clan of clay-kneaded man ! O fleeting and 
 
 shadowy nation ! 
 Callow brood of a day, yet in misery grey, like a dream 
 
 that dissolves in the morning. 
 Unbar your soul-portals, hear us the immortals, whose 
 
 day knows nor setting nor dawning ; 
 Us the tenants of air, never old up there, like the death- 
 less designs that we ponder. 
 That receiving thus true accounts from us of the glowing 
 
 firmament yonder, 
 Of the Birds' procreation, the gods' generation, whence 
 
 Chaos' and Erebus' source is, 
 
320 THE BIRDS. 
 
 ■ You may Prodicus ' slang, and bid him go hang with his 
 
 cosmogonical forces. 
 First Chaos we mark, Night, Erebus dark, and Tartarus 
 
 broadly flowing. 
 But no Earth was there, neither belt of air, nor heaven 
 
 its bright stars showing. 
 Then Night did rest on the fathomless breast of Erebus, 
 
 and, conceiving, 
 The black-winged dame a mother became, a wind-egg 
 
 behind her leaving ; 
 And the hours rolled on till she hatched a son, the dar- 
 ling of all beholders, 
 'Twas Eros bold, and his pinions of gold, like whirlpools, 
 
 flashed on his shoulders. 
 Then, on Tartarus wide, he won for his bride Chaos with 
 
 the ebon tresses, 
 And they with despatch proceeded to hatch the produce 
 
 of their caresses ; 
 Thus an exit winning we had our beginning, and he to 
 
 the light did upbear us. 
 But the gods, I wist, did never exist till all things were 
 
 mingled by Eros ; 
 From which collusion^ — heterogeneous fusion — proceeded 
 
 both Ocean and Heaven, 
 And Earth ; and the happy gods had birth and immor- 
 tality given. 
 In this way we are the most ancient by far of the gods ot 
 
 every description. 
 But that Eros bright is our sire by right many arguments 
 
 prove to conviction ; 
 Like him we have wings and those fluttering things, the 
 
 Loves, are for ever around us ; 
 
 ' A philosophical ancestor of- Mr. Darwin. 
 
THE BIRDS. 321 
 
 Rejected swains, when the season wanes, of the greatest 
 
 assistance have found us, 
 KXiA, when hope was past, have succeeded at last in over- 
 coming aversion 
 By the gift of a Quail, Porphyry, Goose, or the tail of a 
 
 Cock of the genus Persian. 
 Each principal blessing that men are possessing, we Birds 
 
 have undoubtedly brought 'em : 
 In the first place we show how the seasons go, the spring, 
 
 the winter, the autumn. 
 'Tis seed-time again when the screaming Crane departs 
 
 on her Libyan excursion ; 
 Then the pilot may look at his helm on a hook, and 
 
 slumber without exertion ; 
 And Orestes should note the right time for his coat to 
 
 be woven by honest labour ; 
 Nor have recourse to physical force, and strip off the 
 
 coat of his neighbour. 
 When the Kite on the wing gives the signal of spring, 
 
 'tis time for wool-combing and shearing ; 
 But as soon as the Swallow skims over the hollow, you 
 
 must sell the greatcoat you are wearing, 
 And array yourself in something airy and thin, and all 
 
 because of the Swallow. 
 Next, we are, without gammon, your Delphi and Amraon, 
 
 Dodona, and Phoebus Apollo : 
 For you learn the Birds' mind, and then turn to each 
 
 kind of pursuit without fear of miscarriage. 
 Your cash to invest, or to feather your nest, or to settle 
 
 a suitable marriage : 
 And your omens all by one title you call, a word with a 
 
 Bird derivation : 
 'Tis ever the same, you "Augury"' name the voice of divine 
 
 revelation. 
 
327 THE BIRDS. 
 
 Augury is the token, whether sneezed, seen, or spoken ; 
 convulsion and vision and saying ; 
 
 And the servant you meet as you walk down the street, 
 and the donkey portentously braying, 
 
 Are Augury still ! so object as you will, no other con- 
 clusion can follow. 
 
 Than the truth of my words that you look to the Birds 
 when you want a soothsaying Apollo. 
 
 Then do but give the worship 
 
 That you impiously refuse, 
 And 'tis yours to seek the counsel 
 
 Of each fortune-telling muse ; 
 And enjoy in moderation 
 
 All the seasons, as they fleet, 
 Summer, winter, pleasant breezes. 
 
 And the sun's attempered heat. 
 Nor will we, your gods, avoid you 
 
 In an isolation proud, 
 Like Zeus, for instance, perching 
 
 Under folds of envious cloud ; 
 But be near at hand, and ready 
 
 Choicest blessings to renew 
 To yourselves, your little children. 
 
 And your children's children too — 
 Health and wealth and happy living. 
 
 Peace, youth, laughter, sweetness, light. 
 Dainty banquets, merry dances. 
 
 And the cream of Birdi delight. 
 Till at length your numerous blessings 
 
 And your riches will be such, 
 As almost to overload you, 
 
 And delight you ovej-much / 
 
THE BIRDS. 323 
 
 Strophe. 
 
 woodland muse, pied Nightingale, 
 
 Tio-tio-tio-tio-tio-tio-tiotinks ! 
 
 1 perch enamoured at thy side, 
 
 Tio tio-tio-tiotinks ! 
 On mountain top, or wooded vale. 
 Amid the ash's leafy pride, 
 
 Tio-tih-tio-tiotinks ! 
 And pipe with thee from tawny breast 
 The sacred strains that Pan loves best. 
 Or stately tread in shady cover 
 Slow measures to the mountain mother : 
 
 Toto-toto-toto-toto-totinks ! 
 Whence Phrynicus " the honey-sweet 
 Was wont with tuneful lips to eat 
 The fruit of that ambrosial strain, 
 And breathe it in each soft refrain. 
 
 Tio-tio-tio-tiotinks ! 
 
 [Addressing the audience. 
 
 Is there one of you, spectators, who would twine the life 
 
 before him 
 With our gay and jovial bird-life ? let him come ; we're 
 
 ready for him. 
 And he'll find that sundry doings, here as crimes by law 
 
 withstood. 
 Are by us, the Birds, accounted meritorious and good. 
 If, for instance, here 'tis shameful lawlessness one's sire to 
 
 beat. 
 There with us 'tis reckoned honest, if your father you 
 
 should meet, 
 
 ' An ancient tragic poet, often praised by Aristophanes. 
 22 ''' 
 
324 THE BIRDS. 
 
 Having run at him and pecked him, to accost him thus, 
 
 " Good sir, 
 If you feel incUned for fighting, I'm your chicken, raise 
 
 your spur." 
 Should a runaway among you have been branded with a 
 
 stripe, 
 He with us would gain the title of the " variegated 
 
 Snipe." 
 " Every Turk would be a turkey ; " even Exekestides, 
 Though he be but slave and Carian, might adopt 
 
 ancestral trees, 
 And, begetting his own grandsire, join a club and live at 
 
 ease. 
 If the son of Peisias wishes to betray ' the doors to those 
 Whom, as excommunicated, citizens esteem their foes. 
 Let him turn into a Partridge, since we deem it not unjust 
 For the chick of such an old bird to de-J>art and leave 
 his trust. 
 
 Antistrophe. 
 Such strains as these the wild swans sing, 
 
 Tio-tio-tio-tio-tio-tio-tiotinks ! 
 Upon the banks of Hebrus' river, 
 
 Tio-tio-tio-tiotinks ! 
 With mingled voice and flapping wing, 
 Who praise Apollo, bounteous Giver ! 
 
 Tio-tiotio-tiotinks ! 
 Their psean cleaves yon aery cloud, 
 The listening ocean-wave is bowed 
 In breezeless calm ! The beasts of prey 
 All panic-stricken steal away ! 
 
 Toto-toto-toto-toto-tinks ! 
 
 ' i.e., to admit them into the theatre. Peisias was probably a door 
 keeper who abused his trust. 
 
THE BIRDS. 32s 
 
 Olympus' distant summit rings ! 
 A speechless wonder holds its kings ! 
 But Grace and Muse take up the strain 
 And waft the music back again ! 
 Tio-tio-tio-tiotinks ! 
 
 YTo the audience. 
 Nothing in the world is better, or a sweeter pleasure 
 
 brings, 
 Than to set to work in earnest and produce a pair of 
 
 wings. 
 Now, for instance, just suppose that one of you who sit 
 
 before us, 
 Having wings, was bored when hungry by some tire- 
 
 ' some tragic chorus, 
 He could fly straight home to luncheon, and return a 
 
 happier man. 
 Satisfied in mind and body when our comedy began. 
 Or, suppose one loved a maiden, and his happy lot befalls 
 To behold his rival boxed up in the magisterial stalls ; 
 On the wings of love he hastens to the maiden's secret 
 
 bower. 
 Steals a march upon the other, and flies back within the 
 
 hour. 
 Is not wing-producing, therefore, worth the pains one 
 
 thus employs ? 
 Why, Diitrephes, who only fashioned wings for willow- 
 toys. 
 Colonel first and then commander, reached the top of 
 
 his profession. 
 And the upstart still bestrides a yellow cock-horse in 
 procession. 
 
 \Re-enter Hoopoo, with Peisthet^rus and 
 EuELPiDES luinged. 
 
32 6 THE BIRDS. 
 
 PeisthetjERUS. [Laughing. 
 Well, this will do ! Never, by heav'n, I swear, 
 Saw I a more ridiculous affair. 
 
 EUELPIDES. 
 
 What makes you laugh ? 
 
 Peisthet^rus. 
 
 Those lengthy quills of thine, 
 You're like a Gander daubed upon a sign ! 
 
 EUELPIDES. 
 
 And you with yon bald pate, I do declare, 
 
 Are like a Blackbird with his crown plucked bare. 
 
 Peisthet^rus. 
 Bird-likenesses we have adopted thus 
 By the authority of .^schylus. 
 And, as he sings, " these feathers were not grown 
 On other shoulders, they are all our own." 
 
 Hoopoo. 
 Come now, what business does our care demand ? 
 
 PEISTHET.ERUS. 
 
 First, we must call our city by some grand 
 And noble name ; then to the gods new-made 
 I vote we sacrifice. 
 
 EUELPIDES. 
 
 Well said ! 
 Hoopoo. 
 Come, take we then into consideration 
 The subject of our city's appellation. 
 
 PEISTHETiERUS. 
 
 How say you ? Shall we take this title great 
 From Lacedsemon's city, and create 
 Another Sparta ? 
 
THE BIRDS. 327 
 
 EUELPIDES. 
 
 No, by Hercules ! 
 No Spartan nomenclature, if you please ! 
 This Sparta means a rope; now could I find 
 No other, such a rope should never bind 
 My broken bedstead. 
 
 PeISTHET/ERUS. 
 
 But how name the place ? 
 
 EUELPIDES. 
 
 Hence from the clouds of heaven, and empty space 
 'Twixt sky and earth, a name will we compound 
 To make one gape ! 
 
 Peisthet^rus. 
 
 What say you to the sound, 
 Cloud-Cuckoo city ? 
 
 Hoopoo. 
 Hurrah ! Hurrah ! I say ; 
 'Tis a fair name ; a great name every way. 
 
 EUELPIDES. 
 
 Cloud-Cuckoo ! Surely in that selfsame spot 
 Theogones invests what wealth he's got ; 
 And ^schines is also building there 
 A whole array of " castles in the air ! " 
 
 PeISTHETjERUS. 
 
 Its story will in gasconade outdo 
 The plain of Phlegra, where a braggart crew 
 Of gods harpooned, from vantage ground defiant. 
 The sons of earth, each heaven-scaling giant. 
 
 EUELPIDES. 
 
 Ah, 'tis a dainty scheme, this town affair ! 
 Which god or goddess shall be patron there ? 
 To which shall we devote the broidered gown ? 
 
328 THE BIRDS. 
 
 PEISTHETiERUS. 
 
 Why not Atheiie guardian of the town ? 
 
 EUELPIDES. 
 
 How could a town, think you, well-managed te. 
 Where stands a lady-god armed cap-t-pie, 
 And Cleisthenes is weaving like a miss ? 
 
 PeISTHETjERUS. 
 
 But who shall rule in our Acropolis ? 
 
 Hoopoo. 
 One of ourselves ; that bird of Persian nation, 
 Who everywhere has earned the reputation 
 Of the Game Chicken. 
 
 Euelpides. 
 
 Bravo ! Signer Chicken. 
 He'll perch on rocks as tightly as a lichen. 
 
 PeISTHPTjERUS. 
 
 {Rapidly to Euelpides. 
 Come now, bestir yourself and fly mid-air 
 To help the workmen who are building there. 
 Provide the gravel ; strip yourself and mix 
 The mortar ; carry up the hod of bricks ; 
 Slide down the ladder ; set each sentinel ; 
 Enforce the curfew ; bear the watchman's bell 
 In rapid circuit ; tarry there all night. 
 Despatch two hetalds with divergent flight. 
 One upward to the gods, one down to men : 
 All this being done, return to me again. 
 
 Euelpides. [ Vexed. 
 
 And you stay here and hang yourself, say I. 
 
 PEISTHETiERUS. 
 
 Nay, go, good fellow, where I send you ; fly ! 
 Else no work will be done ; no, not the least. 
 
THE BIRDS. 329 
 
 I for my part intend to call the Priest 
 To arrange the ritual,' that I may bring 
 To the new gods their earliest offering. 
 
 \ExU EUELPIDES. 
 
 Now you, and you, boy, bring at my commands 
 The. basket and lustration for our hands. 
 
 Chorus. 
 This plan, by which, in solemn state 
 
 And gorgeous pageantry. 
 You would the gods propitiate. 
 
 Finds full consent in me. 
 A lamb also to sacrifice 
 
 Will be a graceful thing ; 
 So let the Pythian shout arise 
 
 And Chairis bravely sing, 
 
 PeISTHETjERUS. 
 
 [Chairis ivhistles : enter Priest. 
 Pray stop that whistling ! Heav'ns ! what can it mean? 
 Many and strange the sights that I have seen. 
 But ne'er till now a Crow with mouthpiece on ! 
 Priest, to your task. Let sacrifice be done 
 To the new gods. 
 
 Priest. 
 I will do so ! But where 
 Is he who holds the basket ? 
 
 Offer prayer 
 To the bird Vesta, to the Hawk-guardian of the hearth, 
 and to their lordships and ladyships the Birds all and 
 every, both the Cocks and the Hens 
 
 Peisthet/erus. [Responding. 
 
 O Sunian Hawk ! All hail, Pelargic King ! 
 
33° THE BIRDS. 
 
 Priest. 
 Also to the Pythian and Delian Swan, and to Latona 
 of the Island of Quails, and to Artemis the Goldfinch 
 Goddess 
 
 PeISTHETjERUS. 
 
 Goldfinch her name, Coloenis now no more ! 
 Priest. 
 Also to Bacchus the Finch, and to the Ostrich, the 
 
 mother of gods and men 
 
 Peisthet^rus. 
 
 Mistress Cybele, Ostrich ; among us 
 Known as the mother of Theocritus ! 
 
 Priest. 
 That they will grant to the Cloud-Cuckoo towns-folk 
 health and safety for themselves and for theChians ' 
 
 PeISTHETjERUS. 
 
 1 must confess I feel inclined to grin 
 Hearing those Chians everywhere dragged in. 
 
 Priest. 
 To the heroes, and to the sons of the heroes ; to the 
 Porphyry, and to the Pelican, and to the Spoon-bill, 
 and to the Bull-finch, and to the Grouse, and to the 
 Peacock, and to the Owl, and to the Duck, and to 
 the Bittern, and to the Heron, and to the Osprey and 
 to the Black-cap, and to the Goat-sucker. 
 
 PeISTHETjERUS. 
 
 Confound you ! Stop that everlasting whine, 
 Ospreys and Vultures summoned here to dine ! 
 Why, don't you see, one solitary Kite 
 Would seize this meat and bear it out of sight ? 
 
 ' Ridiculing the custom of praying for the Chians as the allies of the 
 Athenians in the "State prayers." (See "Scholiast.") 
 
THE BIRDS. 331 
 
 Be off, you and your garlands every one ; 
 I will perform the sacrifice alone. 
 
 \prives the Priest away. 
 
 Chorus. 
 Then I a second hymn must sing 
 
 In solemn festal tone, 
 And summon to the offering 
 
 One blessfed god alone. 
 And even then 'tis to be feared 
 
 The food will not suffice, 
 For nothing, save some horns and beard, 
 
 Are here for sacrifice. 
 
 PEISTHETiERUS. 
 
 \Commencing the rites. 
 Let us beseech the wingfed deities 
 Whom with our sacrifice we hope to please. 
 \Enter Poet, shabbily dressed. 
 
 Poet. 
 Cloud-Cuckoo, the prosperous city. 
 
 Celebrate, my Muse 
 With thy tuneful ditty. 
 
 Peisthet^rus. 
 What is this object? \Aside. 
 
 Tell me who thou art. \To Poet. 
 
 Poet. 
 Mine the voice that still diffuses 
 Words like honey sweet, 
 
 " Active servant of the Muses " 
 
 See Homer ! 
 
 PeISTHETjERUS. 
 
 A slave ! Then why this long hair flowing aft ? 
 
332 THE BIRDS. 
 
 Poet. 
 No slave. We pupils of the gentle craft 
 
 All "active servants" of the Muses are 
 
 See Homer ! 
 
 Peisthet^rus. 
 Your coat, good sooth, agrees with what you say ; 
 And has done "active service" in its day. 
 But tell me, luckless scribbler, why you came. 
 
 Poet. 
 I have composed full many a dithyramb. 
 Exceeding lovely, also verses fine 
 For maidens' voices, and some odes divine 
 After the pattern of Simonides ; 
 On your Cloud-Cuckoo city I wrote these. 
 
 PEISTHETiTIRUS. 
 
 How along ago wrote you these poems witty ? 
 
 PoET. \Gushingly. 
 
 Long since — long since I eulogised this city ! 
 
 Peisthet^rus. 
 Why, 'tis its dedication ! When you came 
 Our baby-town had j ust received its name. 
 
 Poet. \Quite unruffled. 
 
 But the word of the Muses came with speed, 
 Like the trampling rush of a galloping steed ! 
 
 " O thou whose name \_Quotes Pindar. 
 Breathes of the altar-flame- ! 
 
 Builder of Aitna, Father, ere I go. 
 Whatsoe'er the free soul bringeth, 
 As a dole to one who singeth, 
 
 Do thou on me bestow ! " 
 
THE BIRDS. 333 
 
 Peisthet^rus. 
 This fellow will give trouble. It were best 
 To give him something, and dismiss the pest. 
 \To one of the attendants. 
 You wear a leathern jerkin, and below it 
 A tunic. Strip, and give this to the Poet. 
 
 \To the Poet. 
 There ! take the jerkin and your limbs enfold, 
 You seem to shake all over with the cold. 
 Poet. 
 My mistress Muse unloathing 
 Accepts your gift of clothing. 
 Now ere we part 
 
 This other verse of Pindar learn by heart. 
 Peisthet^rus. [Aside. 
 
 Alas ! the fellow will not make a start. 
 Poet. 
 " All among the nomad Scythians 
 Straton wanders, nipt with cold ; 
 Ah, he wears no closely-woven 
 
 Tunic with its ample fold." 
 Small the glory of a jerkin 
 Which no tunic underlies. 
 A word to the wise ! 
 Peisthet^rus. 
 You want the tunic, too ; of course, I know it. 
 
 \To the Attendant. 
 So strip it off ! We must oblige a poet. 
 Here, take it and depart ! {Giving it. 
 
 Poet. 
 
 The Poet goes ! 
 I'll to the city straight ; and thus compose : 
 
334 THE BIRDS. 
 
 " O golden-throned Apollo, crown 
 With fame this shivery-shaky town ; 
 Through snowy plains spread out afar, 
 Sing, oh, be joyful, here we are !" \_Exit Poet. 
 Peisthet^rus. 
 Nay, now by Heaven, our nice warm tunic taking, 
 I thought you had avoided all this shaking. 
 Whoever would have dreamt this poet-loon 
 Could hear a rumour of our town so soon ! 
 
 \Returning to the Sacrifice. 
 But now once more bear round the lustral water. 
 Be silent ! [Enter Diviner. 
 
 Diviner. [ With authority. 
 
 Sprinkle not the goat for slaughter. 
 
 PeISTHET/ERUS. 
 
 But who are you ? 
 
 Diviner. 
 
 If you desire to know, 
 I'm a Diviner. 
 
 PEISTHETiERUS. 
 
 Go to Jericho ! 
 Diviner. 
 O my good sir, believe me it is best 
 Not to turn sacred subjects into jest, 
 For I declare an oracle of Bacis 
 Affects Cloud-Cuckoo, and no other places. 
 
 PEISTHETiERUS. 
 
 Then why did you not bring these revelations 
 Ere I commenced my building operations ? 
 
 Diviner. 
 Religious reasons such a course forbade. 
 
 Peisthet^rus. 
 Well, let us hear the words that Bacis said. 
 
THE BIRDS. 335 
 
 Diviner. [Pompously reading. 
 " But when wolves and old grey crows, in joint 
 
 habitation, 
 Dwell in the mediate space that lies between Sicyon 
 
 and Corinth." 
 
 PEISTHETiERUS. 
 
 How are Corinthians mixed with my affair ? 
 
 Diviner. 
 Thus Bacis darkly ind^icates the air : [Reads. 
 
 " First, Pandora demandeth a sacrificed ram, with a 
 
 white fleece ; 
 As for the prophet who cometh and first reciteth my 
 
 verses. 
 Him thou must freely reward with a clean shirt and 
 new pair of sandals." 
 
 PeISTHETjERUS. 
 
 Are sandals mentioned ? 
 
 Diviner. 
 
 Take the book and see. [Reads. 
 " Give him a goblet of wine, and fill both his hands 
 with the ram's fry." 
 
 PeISTHETjERUS. 
 
 Is ram's fry mentioned ? 
 
 Diviner. 
 
 Take the book and see. [Reads. 
 " If, my good friend, thou perform all this as I have 
 
 commanded. 
 Eagle enthroned in clouds thou shalt be; but if thou 
 
 refusest, 
 Not even Dove shalt thou be, or Woodpecker, much 
 less an Eagle." 
 
335 THE BIRDS. 
 
 Peisthet^rus. 
 Is all that mentioned ? 
 
 Diviner. 
 Take the book and see. 
 
 PEISTHETiERU.S. 
 
 \Froducing a similar roll. 
 Your oracle by no means then doth follow 
 The one I have here copied from Apollo. 
 
 [Reads in imitation. 
 " When an impostor appeareth unbidden, a vagabond 
 
 fellow, 
 Vexing the priests at the altar and coveting handsful of 
 
 ram's fry, 
 Beat him right well on the parts that lie between shoulder 
 and shoulder." 
 
 Diviner. 
 I guess you're chaffing ! 
 
 PeISTHETjERUS. 
 
 Take the book and see. [Reads. 
 "Spare not, whoever he be, an Eagle enthroned in the 
 
 heavens, 
 Not if he be Lampoon, or even the great Diopeithes." 
 
 Diviner. 
 Is all that mentioned ? 
 
 Peisthet^erus. 
 
 Take the book axid—feel. 
 Be off, you gallows-bird ! [Beats him with t/ie roll. 
 
 Diviner. 
 
 Alas ! forbear. 
 
THE BIRDS. 337 
 
 Pkisthetairus. 
 Out, out ! I say, and prophesy elsewhere. 
 
 \Exit Diviner. Enter Surveyor, 
 
 Surveyor. 
 I've just stept in 
 
 PeISTHETjERUS. 
 
 Behold another pest ! 
 Now what Ao you want? What is your request ? 
 What is your purpose ? What part do you play, 
 That you have cared to travel all this way ? 
 
 Surveyor. 
 To /fl«^-survey your air is my intent. 
 And draw a schedule of apportionment. 
 
 PEISTHETJERUS. 
 
 Good heavens ! Of all strange mortals, who are you? 
 
 Surveyor. 
 My name is Meton ; known all Hellas through 
 And Mount Colonus.' 
 
 PeistheTjERUS. 
 
 Pray explain this treasure 
 You carry with you. 
 
 Surveyor. 
 This is my air-measure. 
 That the air is like an oven needs no proof : 
 So I begin to measure at the roof. 
 And fix this bending rod, from which aslant — 
 You understand me ? 
 
 PeISTHETjERUS. 
 
 No, indeed' I can't. 
 
 ' Which he may have used as an observatory. 
 23 
 
338 THE BIRDS. 
 
 Surveyor. 
 Then I shall use the straight rod here provided, 
 So that your circle will be sub-divided 
 And duly quartered : then your market-place 
 Forming the centre, you correctly trace 
 Your streets straight from it, like the rays that are 
 Divergent from the circlet of a star. 
 
 PEISTHETiERUS. 
 
 Thales himself could not design so well. 
 Meton ! 
 
 Surveyor. 
 Say on. 
 
 Peisthet^rus. 
 
 Dost know I love thee well ? 
 Then take my friendly counsel, and do not 
 Stay here, but sneak off fast as thou canst trot 
 
 Surveyor. 
 But wherefore this advice ? I see no dangers. 
 
 Peisthet^rus. 
 Like Sparta, certain laws affecting strangers 
 Are here in force, and it would be a pity, 
 If kicks and cuffs assailed you in the city. 
 
 Surveyor. 
 Is there a revolution ? 
 
 PEISTHETiERUS. 
 
 Not at all. 
 Surveyor. 
 How is it then ? 
 
 PEISTHETiERUS. 
 
 Why thus, both great and small 
 Have voted to belabour every quack. 
 
 Surveyor. 
 Then I'll forthwith retreat and save my back. 
 
THE BIRDS. 339 
 
 PEISTHETiERUS. 
 
 I scarcely think you've time to get off clear ; 
 For hark ! the angry crowd is drawing near. 
 
 [Meton is beaten by tJu Birds. 
 
 Surveyor. 
 Ah, me ! poor wretch. 
 
 Peisthet^rus. 
 
 1 told you to beware. 
 Will you not measure yourself off elsewhere ? 
 
 \Exit Meton. Enter Inspector. 
 
 Inspector. 
 Where are the foreign Consuls ? 
 
 PEtSTHETjERUS. 
 
 Inform me what 
 Mogul is this ! 
 
 Inspector. 
 I'm here, elect by lot 
 Inspector to Cloud-Cuckoo. 
 
 PeISTHETjERUS. 
 
 Inspector ? Who 
 On such an errand has commissioned you ? 
 
 Inspector. 
 A foolish bill of Teleas. 
 
 Peisthet^rus. 
 
 O those sages ! 
 Then I suppose you want to get your wages, 
 And have no farther trouble, but depart 
 
 Inspector. 
 Yes, I should stay at home to play my part 
 In making a political diversion. 
 In fact, I am in treaty with the Persian. 
 23 * 
 
340 THE BIRDS. 
 
 Peisthet^rus. \Beating him. 
 
 There ! take the pay you merit, and be jogging ; 
 You'll get no other wages but a flogging ! 
 
 Inspector. [Indignantly. 
 
 What was that for ? 
 
 PeISTHETjERUS, 
 
 Only a slight assertion 
 Of interest in your secret with the Persian. 
 
 Inspector. 
 I here bear witness that you violate 
 In me the Inspector sent forth by the State. 
 
 PEISTHEiTiERUS. 
 
 Will you not disappear, and take with you 
 This precious brace of ballot-boxes too ? 
 
 [Exit Inspector. 
 Is it not monstrous that they dare to send 
 Inspectors ere our sacrifices end ? 
 
 [Enter Edict-monger. 
 
 Edict-monger. [Reading pompously. 
 " But if a Cloud-Cuckoo-onian shall assault an 
 
 Athenian " 
 
 Peisthet^rus. 
 What rascal parchment's that ? 
 Edict-monger. 
 
 I come because 
 I sell decrees, and bring you these new laws. 
 
 Peisthet^rus. 
 To what effect ? 
 
 Edict-monger. [Reading. 
 
 " That the same weights, measures, and statutes shall 
 ■be in use at Cloud-Cuckoo-town as among the Olo- 
 phyxians." 
 
THE BIRDS. 341 
 
 PEISTHETiERUS. 
 
 I'll use for you no Hollow-fisi-ian weight. 
 
 [Striking him. 
 Edict-monger. 
 O my good sir, why are you so irate ? 
 
 PeISTHETjERUS. 
 
 If you don't carry all these laws away, 
 You shall have law, and bitter law, to-day. 
 
 [Exit Edict-monger. Re-enter Inspector 
 on the other side. 
 
 Inspector. 
 I hereby summon Peisthetaerus to appear in the month 
 of April next to answer to a charge of assault. 
 
 Peisthet^rus. 
 Indeed, fair sir, so you are there again. 
 
 {Exit Inspector. Enter Edict-monger 
 on the other side. 
 
 Edict-monger. 
 And whosoever shall drive away the magistrates and 
 refuse to receive them according to the statute " 
 
 PeisthetjERUS. [Frantically. 
 
 Ah,, woe is me ! So you are there again. 
 
 [Exit Edict-monger. Re-enter Inspector. 
 
 Inspector. 
 I'll ruin you, and damages will lay 
 At thousands ! Every farthing you shall pay. 
 
 PeiSTHETjERUS. 
 
 At least I'll use my good-luck ere it turns. 
 And smash to atoms thy two ballot-urns. 
 
 [Kicks and breaks them. 
 
342 THE BIRDS. 
 
 Inspector. 
 Who spoilt the tablet of decrees last night ? 
 
 ]^Extt. 
 
 PEISTHETiERUS. 
 
 Bah ! seize him, some one ! Rascal, cease your flight. 
 
 \To Attendants. 
 Let us depart ere other brawls begin. 
 And to the gods do sacrifice within. 
 
 [Exeunt Peisthet^rus, Attendants, and Goat. 
 
 PART VI. 
 
 Chorus of Birds. 
 
 Now to me the All-surveying, 
 All-controUing, everywhere 
 Mortal men shaU come conveying 
 
 Sacrifice, and votive prayer. 
 For I overlook all places. 
 
 And preserve the ripening fruits, 
 Massacreing divers races 
 Of destructive insect-brutes : 
 Gluttons that lurk in branches, and devour 
 The early fruit fresh from its native flower. 
 And I prosecute with rancour 
 
 In the scented gardens these 
 
 Who corrode with blight and canker 
 
 All the promise of the trees. 
 
 Eaters and creepers die of every class 
 
 Wherever my o'ershadowing pinions pass. 
 
 Now whereas a proclamation has been duly made this day, 
 
 " Whatsoever man among you Melian Diagoras shall slay 
 
THE BIRDS. 343 
 
 Will receive therefore a talent, and the like is promisM 
 To the man who kills a tyrant, be he living, be he dead; 
 We therefore proclaim as follows here to-day : " It is our 
 
 will. 
 Whosoever shall among you Philocrates the Poulterer kill, 
 Shall receive a talent ; and an extra sum of talents four, 
 If he bring the said delinquent bound and living to our 
 
 door." 
 For he strings together Finches, selUng them at seven a 
 
 penny ; 
 Blows aside the Thrushes' feathers, treating them with 
 
 ignominy ; 
 Outrages imprisoned Blackbirds, sticking feathers in their 
 
 nose; 
 Likewise keeps entrappfed Pigeons cooped up in his cages 
 
 close. 
 And obliges them to kidnap their companions, as decoys : 
 So we make this proclamation, and we warn all girls and 
 
 boys : 
 " If within your aviaries any sort of bird there be 
 Kept in durance vile, instanter go and set that prisoner 
 
 free; 
 Else, if you refuse compliance, we will pay you tit for tat, 
 Catch and cage you as decoys to capture others — think 
 of that." 
 
 Happy Birds ! We need no dresses 
 When the wintry winds are keen ; 
 Us no solar heat oppresses 
 
 In the torrid summer sheen : 
 For we lurk among the flowers 
 
 Which the sloping meadow weaves ; 
 And inhabit woodland bowers 
 Sheltered by the fanning leaves ; 
 
344 THE BIRDS. 
 
 While the cicadas chirrup, leap, and run, 
 Madly enamoured of the noontide sun. 
 In the winter dreamless slumbers 
 
 We enjoy in cavern lair. 
 Or converse in wanton numbers 
 With the mountain Oreads there ; 
 Then in the spring peck berries from the myrtle, 
 To Graces dear, snow-white as virgin's kirtle. 
 
 Now we wish one word to whisper in the judges' ears like- 
 wise. 
 
 Telling them what boons await them all, if they give us 
 the prize ; 
 
 Richer gifts than Alexander took from Venus, as his due 
 
 For his judgment on Mount Ida, we will give to aU of you. 
 
 First, since ever}' judge among you is for money hanker- 
 ing sore, 
 
 Owl-stampt coins of Laurian silver shall forsake you never- 
 more : 
 
 But within your purses dwelling silver owls their nests 
 shall build. 
 
 Lay, sit, hatch, and the interior with their shining owlets 
 gild. 
 
 In addition to these presents you shall henceforth live in 
 clover. 
 
 Since with comforts snug as birds-nests to the roof we'll 
 ridge you over. 
 
 Should you fill a minor office, and devise some little 
 jobbery, 
 
 In your hand we'll place a clever Falcon to perform the 
 robbery. 
 
 If you give a little dinner bird-crops shall provide the 
 fare. 
 
 But if you decide against us, we forewarn you all to wear, 
 
THE BIRDS. 345 
 
 Statue like, broad brazen helmets, lest your . linen (mark 
 
 ray words), 
 When we see it clean, be spotted by innumerable birds. 
 
 \Enter PEISTHETiERUS. 
 
 Peisthet^rus. 
 The sacrifice, O Birds, has been propitious ; 
 But still it seems to me somewhat suspicious. 
 That we have seen no messenger at all 
 To tell us how things prosper at the wall. 
 Stay ! Hither runs one with a racing puff. 
 
 \Enter Messenger, breathless. 
 Messenger. 
 Where — ^where — where is he ? where ? Be good enough 
 To guide me to our leader Peisthet»rus.. 
 
 PeistheTjErus. 
 I am he ! Well, what message do you bear us ? 
 
 Messenger. 
 Your city wall is finished ! 
 
 PEISTHETiERUS. 
 
 Excellent ! 
 Messenger. 
 A work most splendid, most magnificent, 
 So broad that two of Athens' bragging " chaps " 
 Might pass each other on the top in traps. 
 Each with his pair of horses at full speed, 
 Prodigious creatures, like the Trojan steed. 
 
 PEISTHETiERUS. 
 
 Hercules ! 
 
 ■ Messenger. 
 Its length extends, and this I say 
 Who measured it with my own handa to-day, 
 A hundred fathoms ! 
 
346 THE BIRDS. 
 
 PEISTHETiERUS. 
 
 Poseidon ! what a length ! 
 Who built a wall of such exceeding strength ? 
 
 Messenger. 
 The Birds, and no soul else ! I here declare 
 No mason, joiner, bricklayer, was there 
 From Egypt,' but they built it workman-wise 
 With their own claws, to my intense surprise. 
 First thirty thousand Cranes from Libya stop 
 With a foundation-stone in every crop : 
 Which Corncrakes mason with their beaks so quick ; 
 Meanwhile ten thousand Storks are making brick ; 
 While Coots and all the tribe from river lair 
 Fetched water from below into the air. 
 
 PEISTHEXiERUS. 
 
 Who brought the mortar ? 
 
 Messenger. 
 
 Herons in hods supplied it. 
 
 Peisthet^rus. 
 How into hods did they contrive to slide it ? 
 
 Messenger. 
 O my good sir, in all my life I never 
 Have witnessed a contrivance half so clever. 
 The Geese struck down their legs into the clay 
 Like trowels, and their broad feet in that way 
 Filled up the hods. 
 
 Peisthet^erus. 
 
 O most surprising ^a// 
 
 Messenger. 
 The Ducks, moreover, aproned as 'tis meet, 
 
 ■ Perhaps read " Ireland." 
 
THE BIRDS. 347 
 
 Were carrying bricks up all the time by stacks. 
 The Swallows also bearing on their backs 
 Their trowels baby-wise, and flying oft, 
 Conveyed the mortar in their beaks aloft. 
 
 PeISTHETjERUS. 
 
 Well, after this let him be plagued who likes 
 With hired workmen and their frequent " strikes." 
 Yet tell me now, what birds among them could 
 Work off that portion which is made of wood? 
 
 Messenger. 
 The joiners (and they joinered with a will) 
 Were clever Woodpeckers ; by dint of bill 
 They cut out all the gates ; their frequent knocks 
 Resounded like the hammering in the docks. 
 And now the gates are hung all safe and sound. 
 Their bars secure; the sentries walk their round ; 
 The watch is kept ; the bell is borne about ; 
 The guards are stationed ; and a sharp look-out 
 Kept from the beacon-towers. But I retire 
 To take the bath my heated limbs require. 
 As for the rest, what course we must pursue, 
 The ordering thereof remains with you. 
 
 \Exit Messenger. 
 Chorus. 
 \To PeisthetjERUS, who looks surpnsed. 
 How now? What ails you ? Do you feel amazed 
 Because the wall has been so quickly raised ? 
 
 Peisthet^erus. 
 By Heaven, 1 do ! I well may feel surprise ; 
 It sounds so truly like a pack of lies. 
 But see, a guardsman, with a martial air, 
 Posts hither to announce the doings there. 
 
548 THE BIRDS. 
 
 Second Messenger. \Entering. 
 
 O dear ! dear ! O dear me ! 
 
 PEISTHETiERUS. 
 
 What means this ? 
 Second Messenger. 
 Events have happened dreadfully amiss. 
 One of the gods who favour Zeus' cause, 
 Baffled the vigilance of our Jackdaws, 
 The sentinels by day, and, passing through 
 Our gates, soared into the ethereal blue. 
 
 Peisthet^rus. 
 O dreadful act and execrably done ! . 
 Which of the gods ? 
 
 Second Messenger. 
 
 I can't say ; but 'twas known 
 To carry wings. 
 
 PeISTHETjERUS. 
 
 Then ought you to have thrown 
 Out mounted guards forthwith in hot pursuit. 
 
 Second Messenger. 
 Yea, thirty thousand Hawks did we depute. 
 Horse-archers all, this exigence to meet. 
 Nor only so, for every bird whose feet 
 Is armed with crooked talons. Kite and Crow, 
 Falcon and Vulture, Jay and Eagle go. 
 And still they chase the god : the welkin rings 
 With the wild rush and whirring of their wings. 
 It bears in this direction — it is near — 
 Yea, close at hand. 
 
 PeISTHETjERUS. 
 
 Bring forth then — do you hear ? — 
 Your slings and bows ! Some shoot, and others fling ! 
 Collect the servants. Some one bring my sling. 
 
THE BIRDS. 349 
 
 Chorus. 
 War arises, unspeakable war ! 
 
 The Birds and the gods are wrath. 
 Keep ward in the cloud-girt air afar, 
 Which Erebus brought forth, 
 That never a god, by night or by day, 
 May stealthily enter and pass this way. 
 
 Gather ye, gather ye, merry Birds all ; 
 
 Your vigilant circle keep ; 
 Be ready whatever chance befall ! 
 For listen ! The sounding sweep 
 Of wings, like a whirlwind through the sky, 
 Betokens. that this same god is nigh. 
 
 \Enter Iris, with wings extended, chased by the Birds.] 
 
 Peisthet^rus. 
 Ho ! whither, whither art thou flying, pray ?. 
 Be still ! Move not ! Where thou art standing, stay ! 
 Desist from flight ! Who art thou ? From what part ? 
 'Twere best to say distinctly whence thou art. 
 
 Iris. 
 From the great Gods Olympian I hail. 
 
 PeisthetjErus. 
 What is thy name ? Miss Helmet or Miss Sail ? ' 
 
 Iris. 
 Swift Iris. 
 
 Peisthet^rus. 
 Which state-galley name you thus. 
 The Salaminia or the Paralus ? 
 
 Iris. 
 What means all this ? 
 
 ' Referring to her head-gear and her wings. 
 
35° THE BIRDS. 
 
 Peisthet^rus. \To the Guard. 
 One of you Kites be ready. 
 To fly up and arrest this pretty lady. 
 
 Iris. 
 Arrest me ! Why, what scoundrel makes this fuss ? 
 
 Peisthet^rus. 
 I'll show you to your cost 
 
 Iris. 
 
 Ridiculous ! 
 Peisthet^rus. 
 Confess, accursed creature, through which gate 
 Our city thou hast dared to penetrate ? 
 
 Iris. 
 What do I know or care about your gates ? 
 
 Peisthet^rus. \To Chorus. 
 
 You hear how slyly she prevaricates. 
 Say, didst thou go and ask to see the chief 
 Of the Jackdaws, or enter like a thief? 
 No answer. Art thou furnished with a pass 
 Sealed duly by the Storks ? 
 
 Iris. \Aside. 
 
 Who is this ass .? 
 
 PeISTHETjERUS. 
 
 Hast thou received none ? 
 Iris. 
 
 Are you really sane ? 
 
 PeISTHETjERUS. 
 
 Nor cared from a bird-general to obtain 
 The countersign? 
 
 Iris. 
 Oh no ! Not I, by Zeus ! 
 Nobody gave me anything, you goose. 
 
THE BIRDS. 35 « 
 
 PEISTHETiERUS. 
 
 So through our ahen city, and through chaos, 
 Thou fly'st by stealth. A pretty trick to play us ! 
 
 Iris. 
 Which other way then must we gods now fly ? 
 
 Peisthet^rus. 
 By Zeus ! I neither know nor rare, not I, 
 So that they pass not here. But even now 
 Thou gettest not thy due; for know, if thou 
 Hadst thy desert and justice had its way, 
 Thou wouldst be put to death this very day, 
 If thou wert twenty .Irises in one ! 
 
 Iris. 
 Pshaw ! I'm immortal ! 
 
 Peisthet^rus. 
 
 Yet it would be done ! 
 For we shall undergo, in my opinion, 
 Intolerable wrong, if our dominion 
 Extend o'er others with unquestioned sway, 
 And yet you gods presume to disobey 
 Our edicts, and for your part will not know 
 The weaker to the wall perforce must go. 
 But tell me whither you set sail to-day. 
 
 Iris. 
 Me ? From my sire I fly to men to say 
 That he requires more cattle to be slain 
 In honour of the Gods Olympian 
 On sacrificial altars, and the roads 
 Perfumed with savoury steam. 
 
 PEISTHETiERUS. 
 
 Gods! but what gods? 
 
352 THE BIRDS. 
 
 Iris. 
 What gods ? Ourselves, who in the heavens abide. 
 
 Peisthet^rus. 
 So you're the gods, then ? 
 
 Iris. 
 
 Are there gods beside ? 
 
 Peisthet^rus. 
 Yes ; among men bird-gods are now in use. 
 And they must offer not by Zeus, to Zeus, 
 But to the Birds. 
 
 Iris. ^Magnificently. 
 
 Fool, fool ! hast thou no dread 
 Of divine vengeance falling on thy head ? 
 Lest justice with the spade of Zeus efface 
 In overwhelming ruin all thy race, 
 And bolts from his Licymnian thunder-crashes 
 Thee and thy house reduce to smoking ashes ? 
 
 Peisthet^rus. 
 Now listen, please, to me, and stop this bluster ; 
 Such bogy threats are very well to fluster 
 A Lydian or a Phrygian. I am Greek ! 
 Know, then, if Zeus shall any further seek 
 To harass me, I'll send my Eagle bands 
 To burn to ashes with their blazing brands 
 Amphion's palace ; and against your sire 
 I'll send as high as heaven my birds of fire ; 
 My Porphyries, in skins of leopard clad. 
 More than six hundred strong. Of old he had 
 Sufficient work one Porphyry to subdue. 
 So much for Zeus ; and now I threaten you. 
 His minion, if you dare to harass me. 
 Since you are like a galley, I will be 
 
THE BIRDS. 353 
 
 Like Neptune, with his trident strong and true, 
 To pierce my Lady Iris througli and through. 
 
 Iris. 
 Go hang, you rascal, with your gibberish ! 
 
 Peisthet^rus. \As if scaring a bird. 
 Be off, and vanish quickly, won't you ? Whish ! 
 
 Iris. \Departing. 
 
 My sire shall stop your insolence, I swear. 
 
 Peisthet^rus. {Ironically. 
 
 I am so frightened ! Won't you fly elsewhere ? 
 Your fire and brimstone might some baby scare. 
 
 Chorus. 
 We thus exclude the heavenly powers 
 From passing through this town of ours, 
 
 And never will permit 
 The fume of sacrifice to go 
 Up through our floor from men below 
 
 For Gods to relish it. 
 
 PART VII. 
 
 PEISTHETiERUS. 
 
 Strange if the herald we sent down to men 
 Should never more return to us again. 
 Enter Herald. 
 Herald. 
 Oh, Peisthetaerus, blessfed and most wise, 
 Most famous, wisest, subtlest to advise ! 
 Thrice blessed, oh, command me what to do ! 
 24 
 
354 THE BIRDS. 
 
 Peisthet^rus. 
 What do you mean ? 
 
 Herald. 
 
 Here is a crown for you, 
 A golden crown by all the people sent 
 Your wisdom to reward and compliment. 
 
 Peisthet^rus. 
 Thank you. But why this honour of a crown ? 
 
 Herald. 
 O architect of air's most famous town, 
 Thou knowest not what glory has accrued 
 To thee from men, or what a multitude 
 Profess themselves enraptured with this place. 
 Before you built this city all the race 
 Went Sparta-mad, and vied in imitation 
 Of the Laconian want of cultivation ; 
 Wore long hair, fasted, washed not, played the tricks 
 Of Socrates, took clubs for walking-sticks. 
 But, bird-mad now, they change their note, and try 
 To imitate the Birds in luxury. 
 I,ike us they cut their morning dozes short. 
 And fly to pick up early worms in court ; 
 Then down among the leaves they all alight, 
 And there they peck away at bills till night. 
 This bird-craze now has grown to such a length 
 That many are assuming on the strength 
 Fowl names. A costermonger who is lame 
 Is " Partridge ; " and Menippus took the name 
 Of " Swallow ; '' and Opuntius " One-eyed Raven ; " 
 Philacles the " Lark ; " Thepgones, that craven, 
 " Fox-goose ; " Lycurgus would the " Ibis" play, 
 Chcerephon the "Bat," Syracosius the "Jay;'' 
 
THE BIRDS. 355 
 
 The coward Meidias is surnamed the " Quail," 
 
 For if you punch his head he soon " turns tail." 
 
 I left them warbling, out of love for birds, 
 
 All sorts of songs in which occur such words 
 
 As "Swallow," "Duck," "Goose," "Turtle-dove," or 
 
 "wings," 
 Or some slight reference to " flying things." 
 Thus the world wags. But I should give you warning 
 That more than thousands ten will come this hiorning 
 Petitioning for wings and taloned feet ; 
 Whence will you get enough their wants to meet ? 
 
 Peisthet^rus. 
 Good heavens ! we must stand no longer still. 
 
 \To First Attendant. 
 Go you, as quickly as you can, and fill 
 The tubs and baskets of whatever kind 
 With wings of any sort that you may find. 
 
 \To Second Attendant. 
 You, Manes, bring them out of doors to me, 
 While I receive this coming company, 
 
 Chorus. 
 Some bard ere long 
 Will sing a song. 
 And call our population man ifold, 
 
 Peisthet^rus. 
 Yes, only let our lucky fortune hold. 
 
 Chorus. 
 The love men bear our city waxes stronger. 
 
 Peisthet^rus. \To Manes. 
 
 Bring out the wings at once. Don't tarry longer. 
 24* 
 
356 THE BIRDS. 
 
 Chorus. 
 No wonder they hasten 
 
 To sojourn here, 
 For nothing is lacking 
 
 That man holds dear : — 
 Wit, wooing, with each 
 
 Ambrosial grace, 
 And peace of mind 
 With a smiling face. 
 
 PeisthetjErus. \To Manes, within. 
 How shamefully you serve your master ! 
 Can't you move a little faster ? 
 
 Chorus. 
 Let some one bring the basket quick ! 
 
 Perhaps 'twere best to pass 
 Within the door and use the stick : 
 
 He's slower than an ass. 
 
 Enter Manes, with basket. 
 
 PEISTHETiERUS. 
 
 Ah, Manes always was a lout. 
 
 Chorus. 
 Now take the wings and set them out, 
 Arranging them in order due, 
 Singing, talking, sea birds too ; 
 Then take the claimants man by man 
 And feather them as best you can. 
 
 Peisthet^rus. {To Manes. 
 
 Now, by the Hawks, I won't refrain my hands 
 If thou so loiterest over my commands. 
 
THE BIRDS. 357 
 
 Enter Parricide. 
 Parricide. 
 A high-flying Eagle I fain would be, 
 To cross the desolate waste of sea, 
 
 Till my home I make 
 By the rippling marge of some deep blue lake. 
 
 Peisthet^rus. 
 Our messenger told us no more than truth ; 
 For, lo ! oi Eagles sings this coming youth. 
 
 Parricide. 
 Ah ! there is nothing sweeter than to fly. 
 The customs of the Birds for me, say I. 
 I'm bird-mad, and, on wings of aspiration, 
 My spirit soars to make its habitation 
 Henceforth among you Birds. How I should love it ! 
 To live beneath bird-law is all I covet 
 
 Peisthet/erus. 
 What law ? for birds you know acknowledge many. 
 
 Parricide. 
 Why, all ! But this in preference to any : 
 Among the Birds 'tis counted good and wise 
 To choke one's father, or peck out his eyes. 
 
 PeisthetjErus. 
 Yes, sure enough, a plucky Bird he's holden 
 Who, in his chtck-Yiood, dapper-daws the old 'un. 
 
 Parricide. 
 I therefore entertain a strong desire 
 To migrate hither and to choke my sire, 
 And so inherit all he has below. 
 
 Peisthet^rus. 
 At the same time 'tis well that you should know 
 
,3S8 THE BIRDS. 
 
 We own a law which anciently was writ 
 On the Storks' Tables, whence we copied it, 
 That when the parent Stork, with nursing care, 
 Has taught his baby Storks to take the air. 
 The young brood, if their father's eyes are dim, 
 Shall bring him food, and take like care of him. 
 
 Parricide. [Disgusted. 
 
 Really ! A grand advantage I should gather 
 By coming here, if I must keep my father. 
 
 PEISTHETiERUS. 
 
 No, no, my worthy sir; for since you come 
 With honourable intent to seek a home, 
 To save you from a duty so absurd, 
 I'll feather you in black — an orphan bird. 
 But, my fair youth, let me suggest a rule 
 (Not without reason) which I learnt at school, — 
 " Strike not thy father." Take this wing instead ; 
 For th' other side this spur ; upon your head 
 Conscious of bearing this cockscomb, away ! 
 Enlist, keep guard, and live upon your pay. 
 But spare your father's life. If fight you will, 
 Fly off to Thrace straightway, and fight your fill. 
 
 Parricide. 
 By Bacchus ! I approve your arguments, 
 And will comply. 
 
 Peisthet^rus. 
 So will you show good sense. 
 
 \Exit Parricide. 
 
 Enter Cinesias, Dithyrambic Poet, lean and lame. 
 Cinesias. 
 I soar to Olympus on gossamer wing. 
 And hither and thither I fly as I sing. 
 
THE BIRDS. 359 
 
 PEiSTHETifiRus. \Aside. 
 
 This object needs a whole ship-load of wings. 
 
 CiNESIAS. 
 
 With spirit undaunted, and body too, 
 My course I pursue 
 Through regions new. 
 
 PeISTHETjERUS. 
 
 Hail, linden-light Cinesias, what brings 
 Thy halting foot to circle hitherward ? 
 Cinesias. 
 The desire I have to become a bird : 
 The Nightingale's my choice, 
 With his loud shrill voice. 
 
 PEISTHETiERUS. 
 
 Cease singing, then, and plainly state your prayer. 
 
 Cinesias. 
 Give me some wings that I may float mid-air, 
 Twixt heaven and earth, and from the clouds may cram 
 Some new wind-whirled snow-beaten dithyramb. 
 
 Peisthet^rus. 
 How say you ? Clouds the dithyramb impart ? 
 
 Cinesias. 
 Ay, thence depends the grandeur of our art,' 
 For all the splendid passages that grace 
 The dithyramb derive from cloudy space. 
 That indescribable — that volatile — 
 Aerial, gloomy, lofty-whirling style : 
 But list ! and what I mean you soon will know. 
 
 PEISTHETiERUS. 
 
 Not I. 
 
 ' Another satire on the turgid rant of many tragic or dithjrambic 
 choruses of the day. 
 
36o THE BIRDS. 
 
 CiNESIAS. 
 
 By, Hercules, I'll make you, though — 
 For I will sing you a song of air. 
 And of all the shadows mirrored there. 
 
 Of the flying, aether-racing, long-necked bird 
 
 Peisthet^rus. 
 
 Absurd ! 
 
 CiNESIAS. 
 
 Let me go ! 
 Passing with a leaping motion 
 O'er the race-course of the ocean 
 Swift as breezes blow ! 
 
 Peisthet^rus. \Slily producing a whip. 
 By heaven ! I must lay these breezes low ! 
 
 CiNESIAS. 
 
 Sometimes madly southward steering, 
 Sometimes towards the north careering, 
 
 I am here, I am there. 
 Cutting a furrow thro' havenless air ! 
 
 Brilliant and wise, \To Peisthet^rus. 
 Signor, the notable tricks you devise. 
 
 Peisthet^rus. [ Whipping him. 
 Don't you rejoice in whirling round before us ? 
 
 CiNESIAS. 
 
 What ! strike a master of the cyclic-chorus ? 
 Fought for as I have been by many a tribe ! ' 
 
 PeISTHETjERUS. 
 
 Perhaps then you are willing to abide 
 And teach a chorus of the Birds their hops 
 For Leotropides of the tribe Cecrops? 
 
 ■ Each tribe had in turn to provide a choragia ; the expense was under- 
 talcen by some rich member, who appointed the chorodidaskilos. 
 
THE BIRDS. 361 
 
 CiNESIAS. 
 
 You only gibe at me, that's very plain. 
 
 Yet, let me tell you, here I will remain 
 
 Till I obtain my wings, and, " in high feather," 
 
 Can cleave the air, and laugh at wind and weather. 
 
 \_Exit CiNESIAS ; enter Informer. 
 Informer. \Contempiuously. 
 
 Ah ! here are patchwork birds without a groat ; 
 Ho, long-winged Swallow ! Ho, Sir Motley-coat ! 
 
 PeisthetjErus. 
 This task develops into no slight bore ! 
 Some other rascal muttering. 
 
 Informer. 
 
 As before, 
 Ho ! long winged Motley-coat, I ask for you. 
 
 Peisthet/erus. 
 He seems to troll this ditty with the view 
 Of getting a new coat, but he will need 
 " More than one swallow " ere he will succeed. 
 (Witness the proverb, writing coat, for summer^ 
 
 Informer. 
 Which gentleman be-feathers each new-comer ? 
 
 PEISTHETi«RUS. 
 
 He stands before you ; say what your desire is. 
 
 Informer. 
 Wings, wings, no more ; so make no more inquiries. 
 
 Peisthet^rus. 
 Do you then cqntemplate z. flying visit 
 To the Pellene cloth -works — or what is it? 
 
 Informer. 
 No, I'm an island-bailiff, and a paid 
 Ipformer 
 
362 THE BIRDS. 
 
 PEISTHETiERUS. 
 
 Well, you have a blessfed trade ! 
 
 Informer. 
 And pettifogger ; so these wings I need, 
 That I may run my rounds with greater speed 
 And issue summonses. 
 
 Peisthet.erus. 
 
 Will you be made 
 By wings a jot more clever at this trade? 
 
 Informer. 
 But I shall dread no buccaneer's attack ; 
 And with a flock of Cranes come flying back 
 Well ballasted with pending litigation. 
 
 PeISTHETjERUS. 
 
 But, seriously, is this your occupation ? 
 A hale young man, and yet informing go ? 
 
 Informer. 
 How can I help it? I can't dig, you know. 
 
 Peisthet^rus. 
 Yet there exist employments less like thieving 
 Whence such a man as you should earn his living 
 More suitably, and honourably far, 
 Than patching up these suits of legal war. 
 
 Informer. 
 Don't lecture me, my reverend sir, but wing me. 
 
 Peisthet^rus. 
 I wing you while I talk. 
 
 Informer. 
 
 How can you bring me 
 My wings by prating ? 
 
THE BIRDS. 363 
 
 Peisthet^rus. 
 
 All mankind by word 
 Are xfoAtxtiiL flighty. 
 
 Informer. 
 All? 
 
 PeISTHETjERUS. 
 
 Have you not heard 
 Fathers describing each his hopeful son 
 In barbers' shops ? " 'Tis very odd," cries one, 
 " Diitrephes, by horsy conversation. 
 Has raised my boy on wings of expectation 
 To drive a trap." Another, with delight. 
 Boasts that his son has taken a XoiXxtx flight 
 And hawks at tragedy. 
 
 Informer. 
 
 Mere words, say you. 
 Produce these feathers? 
 
 Peisthet^erus. 
 
 Certainly I do. 
 Through words the soul is lifted up on high 
 And the whole man exalted : wherefore I 
 Sincerely hope, such useful word-wings giving, 
 To tarn you to an honest way of living. 
 
 Informer. 
 But I won't turn. 
 
 PeISTHETjERUS. 
 
 Just so. What will you do? 
 
 Informer. 
 I won't disgrace my family for you. 
 My father's father informations laid, 
 And I but follow my ancestral trade. 
 
364 THE BIRDS. 
 
 So feather me with pinions swift and light, 
 • With wings of Hawk or, if you please, of Kite ; 
 That when I summon strangers to appear, 
 I may return forthwith to cite them here, 
 And then fly back again. 
 
 Peisthet^rus. 
 
 I comprehend 
 The meaning of your words, my honest friend ; 
 The accused cannot arrive in time thus short. 
 So stands convicted of " contempt of court." 
 
 Informer. \_DelighUd. 
 
 You've hit it ! 
 
 PeISTHETjERUS. 
 
 So, while he makes his appearance 
 By sailing here, you fly, and make a clearance 
 Of all his goods ! 
 
 Informer. \Eagerly. 
 
 Precisely ! One must pop 
 Hither and thither like a spinning top ! 
 
 PeISTHETjERUS. 
 
 A whip-to^ ! And to spin it, you require a 
 Nice pair of wings imported from Corcyra.' 
 
 \^Flogs him soundly. 
 Informer. 
 Oh ! 'Tis a whip. 
 
 Peisthet^rus. \Still flogging him. 
 Wings ! wings ! I cannot stop : 
 With this good pair I spin you like a top ! 
 
 Informer. 
 Oh, dear ! oh, dear ! have pity on my back ! 
 
 * That is, hirge two-thonged whips manufactured at Corcyra. 
 
THE BIRDS. 365 
 
 Peisthet^rus. 
 Oh, prince of scoundrels ! Thou shalt either pack, 
 Or to thy bitter cost spin full amends 
 For justice twisted to thy wicked ends ! 
 
 \^Exit Informer. 
 Come, let us take the wings and go, my friends. 
 
 \Exeunt Peisthet^.rus aTid Attendants with 
 baskets of feathers. 
 
 Chorus. 
 The Song of Sycophants and Footpads. 
 
 To many new, wonderful places we've flown. 
 
 And many remarkable incidents known. 
 
 Of species outlandish a tree took a start, 
 
 Kleonymus-tree, with no atom of heart. 
 
 'Tis useful for nothing, as all men may see, 
 
 But only a timbersome, overgrown tree. [reaches, 
 
 In the spring-tide ' it bourgeons, and branches out- 
 
 And ripens a crop of most fraudulent peacJie's. 
 
 In the winter, while others strew leaves o'er the field, 
 
 It shrinks like a coward who throws down his shield. 
 
 We have noted a place in the region of scamps, 
 
 Under darkness that looms out of reach of the lamps ; 
 
 Where mortals may venture so long as 'tis light 
 
 To dine with the heroes.'^ 'Tis unsafe at night. 
 
 For should any poor wight in the darkness around 
 
 Encounter Orestes, that hero renowned ; 
 
 He is robbed of his garments, and glad to run in 
 
 With nothing but hard blows to cover his skin. 
 
 ■ The Sycophants, or Informers, flourish in the spring, when the law 
 suits are decided, but in winter fear the vengeance of those whom they 
 have cheated. 
 
 ' By the heroes he means the footpads, of whom Orestes was the 
 most infamous. 
 
366 THE BIRDS. 
 
 PART VIII. 
 Enter Prometheus. 
 
 Prometheus. 
 
 SJ^ooking timidly around. 
 Oh dear, I trust I am not seen by Zeus. 
 But where is Peisthetserus ? 
 
 PFiSTHETiERUS. \Entering. 
 
 What's this ruse 
 Of muffling? 
 
 Prometheus. 
 Look, and say if you can see 
 One of the Gods behind there watching me. 
 
 Peisthet^rus. 
 Certainly not. But who are you, sir ? Say. 
 
 Prometheus. [ Whispering. 
 
 Please to inform me what's the time of day. 
 
 Peisthetserus. \Impatiently. 
 
 What time ? O, early in the afternoon, 
 But tell me who you are, and that right soon. 
 
 Prometheus. {Cautiously. 
 
 Is it folding-time, or later ? 
 
 Peisthet/ERUS. {Savagely. 
 
 Hateful bore ! 
 
 PROMETHEUSi 
 
 What is Zeus doing ? opening his door 
 Of cloud or shutting it ? 
 
 Peisthet^rus. {Frantically. 
 
 Bad luck to you ! 
 Prometheus. 
 ■ Thus then at length my mufflers I undo. 
 
THE BIRDS. 367 
 
 Peisthet^rus. [Ardently. 
 
 My dear Prometheus ! 
 
 Prometheus. [Timidly. 
 
 Stop, stop, don't exclaim ! 
 
 Peisthet^rus. 
 But why not ? 
 
 Prometheus. 
 Softly ! Don't pronounce my name. 
 For should Zeus see me here, 'twould seal my fate. 
 But that the secrets of our upper State 
 I may disclose, take now, and having spread, 
 This large umbrella, hold it overhead. 
 So that the Gods can't see me. 
 
 PEISTHETiERUS. 
 
 Capital ! 
 Skilfully like yourself you plan it all ! 
 Come under quickly ! Now speak free from fear. 
 
 Prometheus. 
 Then hear me ! 
 
 Peisthet^erus. 
 
 "Speak, for I am bound to hear." 
 
 Prometheus. 
 It's up with Zeus ! 
 
 Peisthet^rus. 
 
 Whence does his ruin date ? 
 
 Prometheus. 
 Since first you founded your aerial State ; 
 For men will now no longer sacrifice 
 To any Gods. No savoury perfumes rise 
 From dainty morsels now this long time past. 
 So we, like votaries of Ceres,^ fast, 
 
 " Literally, as on the Thesmophoria, held in honour of Ceres. 
 
368 THE BIRDS. 
 
 Sans sacrifices ! while the Gods barbarian 
 Shriek, in their famine, like a wild Hungarian, 
 And threaten an invasion from above, - 
 Unless poor Zeus can the blockade remove. 
 And tripe and sausages be forwarded. 
 
 Peisthet^rus. 
 Have you, then, Gods barbarian overhead ? 
 
 Prometheus. 
 Barbarian indeed ! for one of these 
 Is tutelar to Exekestides. 
 
 PeISTHETjERUS. 
 
 By what name are these Gods barbarian known ? 
 
 Prometheus. 
 Triballians. 
 
 Peisthet^rus. 
 Ah, I see the derivation 
 Of the proverbial, " Go to tribulation" 
 
 Prometheus. 
 Decidedly. But let me make this clear : 
 Ambassadors will presently be here 
 From these Triballians overhead, and Zeus ; 
 Intending to negotiate a truce. 
 But make no truce except on this condition, 
 That Zeus forthwith restore their royal position 
 And sceptre to the Birds ; then heal all strife 
 By yielding Basileia as your wife. 
 
 PeISTHETjERUS. 
 
 Who's Basileia ? 
 
 Prometheus. 
 
 Demoiselle most fair, 
 Who keeps his thunderbolts beneath her care 
 And all his other matters under locks. 
 Good counsel, legislation, and the docks, 
 
THE BIRDS. 369 
 
 " The temperance question," payment of the jury, 
 The treasury, and royal expletives oi fury. 
 
 PEISTHETiERUS. 
 
 In fact she seems to be sole stewardess 
 Of his establishment. 
 
 Prometheus. 
 
 She is no less : 
 So if you can induce him to deliver 
 This fair princess, your fortune's made for ever. 
 I came on purpose to propose this plan, 
 For I have always been the friend of man. 
 
 Peisthet^rus. 
 Thro' you alone we get our victuals hot. 
 
 Prometheus. 
 As for the Gods, you know I hate the lot. 
 
 Peisthet^rus. 
 Hating the Gods is quite your natural turn. 
 
 Prometheus. 
 A regular Timon ! But I must return ; 
 So carry the umbrella as before, 
 That if Zeus look, he may suspect no more 
 Than that I wait upon a basket-bearer.' 
 
 PeISTHET/ERUS. 
 
 Carry this camp-stool, and so make it clearer. 
 
 \Exeunt ambo. 
 Chorus. 
 
 Song of the Umbrellas. 
 Where the native Africans use their feet 
 As a broad protection against the heat ; 
 
 ' At the p^reat festival of Pallas, at Athens, young persons of noble 
 families, accompanied by servants, bore offerings to the Goddess in 
 baskets. 
 
 25 
 
370 THE BIRDS. 
 
 A certain nameless lagoon is outspread 
 Where soapless Socrates raises the dead. 
 
 Thither Peisander arrived, and he 
 Requested Peisander's spirit to see. 
 
 For his coward spirit had taken flight, 
 And left him a living and spiritless wight. 
 
 So he brought a lamb of the camel size, 
 And severed the throat of the sacrifice. 
 
 Then, like Ulysses, a space withdrew ; 
 While up to the bleeding victim flew 
 
 From subterranean darkness, pat,. 
 Chserephon — that infernal bat. 
 
 PART IX. 
 
 Scene : A view of Cloud- Cuckoo city. 
 
 PeisthetjERUS, in the background, is preparing certain 
 birds for the spit. 
 
 Enter Poseidon, Hercules, and Triballus. 
 
 POSSEIDON. 
 
 Cloud-Cuckoo-city-ramparts here we see. 
 The object of our common embassy. 
 
 \To Triballus. 
 What now, good sir ! You are a pretty fright ! 
 Your cloak upon the left ! Pray set it right. 
 Yoii dress yourself like some Laispodias.^ 
 
 ' Laispodias was an Athenian general, who concealed some deformity 
 in the' legs by a long cloak. 
 
THE BIRDS. 371 
 
 Democracy, ah, me ! to what a pass 
 Thou bringest us, when deities engage 
 This clumsy fellow for an embassage. 
 
 Triballus. 
 Be quiet, can't yer ? 
 
 Poseidon. 
 
 Hang you ! Of all that set 
 You're the most barbarous God I ever met. 
 Come, Hercules, what next ? 
 
 Hercules. 
 
 You heard me say 
 That my proposal is, without delay. 
 To hang the fellow who is not afraid 
 To make our godships suffer from blockade. 
 
 Poseidon. 
 But we were chosen, good sir, you and \, 
 As truce-bearers. 
 
 Hercules. 
 Another reason why 
 We ought to hang him ! 
 
 Peisthet^rus. 
 [Freiending not to see them, to the A ttendant. 
 Hand me the cheese-grater, 
 Bring cheese and spice ; now poke the fire, waiter. 
 
 Hercules. \To PeisthetjErus. 
 We three — three Gods, the mortal man salute. 
 
 Peisthet^rus. \StiU ignoring them. 
 Now, then, proceed to grate the spice to suit. 
 
 Hercules. \Curiously. 
 
 What meat is this ? 
 
 25* 
 
372 THE BIRDS. 
 
 Peisthet^erus. 
 Oh, certain birds, you see. 
 Rebelled against the Bird-democracy, 
 And were found guilty. 
 
 Hercules. 
 
 Are you spicing these 
 So early ? 
 
 PeisthetjErus. \Coolly. 
 
 Well, how are you, Hercules? 
 Your business here ? 
 
 Hercules. 
 
 Ambassadors we are. 
 Come from the Gods to terminate the war. 
 
 Peisthet^rus. \To Attendants. 
 
 This cruet has no oil — no, not a whit ; 
 Yet birds must be well basted on the spit 
 
 Hercules. 
 We find ourselves no gainers by these quarrels, 
 And you, were we your friends, might fill your barrels 
 With good rain-water, and spend halcyon hours. 
 In all this we're entrusted with full powers. , 
 
 PeISTHETjERUS. 
 
 ' We, in this war, struck not the foremost blow ; 
 And now (supposing that you wish it so^ 
 And are, moreover, willing to submit, 
 Tho' late, to justice) we will settle it. 
 And make a treaty ; on this stipulation, 
 That Zeus do forthwith sign his abdication 
 And hand his sceptre to the Birds. If thus 
 A truce be made, I hope you'll dine with us. 
 
 Hercules. 
 Enough for me ! Agreed 1 
 
THE BIRDS. 373 
 
 Poseidon. 
 
 What, simpleton ! 
 What, glutton \ Rob your father of his throne ? 
 
 PeISTHETjERUS. ' 
 
 Indeed ! Will not you Gods be stronger then, 
 Supposing that the Birds reign over men ? 
 Now hidden by the clouds those mortals dare 
 To call the Gods to witness, yet forswear. 
 But whenyou have the Birds allied to you, 
 If swearing by the Raven and Zeus too, 
 A man swore falsely ; with a secret flight 
 The Raven on his perjured head would light. 
 Peck out an eye, and so impair his sight 
 
 Poseidon. 
 Now, by Poseidon, you bespeak us fair ! 
 
 Hercules. 
 And I approve. 
 
 Peisthet^rus. 
 
 What says your comrade there ? 
 Triballus. 
 
 Nabaiseatreu ! 
 
 PeISTHET/ERUS. 
 
 You hear ? He's quite content 
 Now let me show you how by this event 
 We shall confer on you a farther boon. 
 If any man, who vowed that he would soon 
 Bring to some God a victim, does not pay, 
 But quibbling with his conscience, dares to say, 
 " The Gods can wait a bit," withholding still 
 The gift he vowed ; we'll send a little bill 
 For him to settle. 
 
 Poseidon. 
 
 How ? Explain it, please. 
 
374 THE BIRDS. 
 
 Peisthet^rus. 
 Suppose the fellow sitting at his ease 
 To count his money, or enjoy a wash ; 
 Our Kite forthwith swoops down, and makes a dash 
 At coin or clothes, and carries up to you 
 Instead of one fat sheep the cost of two. 
 
 Hercules. 
 Once more, say I, tis settled in my mind. 
 This sceptre to the Birds must be resigned. 
 
 Poseidon. 
 Ask the Triballian ; let him give his vote. 
 
 Hercules. 
 Triballian, will you please to grunt a note ? 
 
 Triballus. \Offended. 
 
 My stick shall warm thy yed ! 
 
 Hercules. [Interpreting. 
 
 Ay, go ahead. 
 
 Poseidon. 
 So be it, gentlemen, as you have said. 
 
 Hercules. 
 Sir, we agree, the sceptre shall be ceded. 
 
 PeistheTjErus. 
 Ah, I remember one thing more is needed. 
 Herb I yield to Zeus ; but on his side 
 He muEt bestow upon me for a bride 
 Fair Basileia. 
 
 Poseidon. 
 
 You desire no peace. 
 
 Let us go home at once ! [To the othe) two. 
 
 PEISTHET.ERUS. 
 
 Just as you please. 
 Cook, see you make that gravy nice and sweet. 
 
THE BIRDS. 375 
 
 Hercules. \Touchei by the gravy. 
 Whither, good friend Poseidon, in such heat ? 
 Shall we about one woman go and fight ? 
 
 Poseidon. 
 What can we do ? 
 
 Hercules. 
 
 Do ! Set the matter right. 
 
 Poseidon. 
 Why, simpleton, don't you detect the guile 
 With which he has cajoled you all this while ? 
 You're ruining yourself. If Zeus should die. 
 Having resigned to these his sovereignty, 
 You are. a beggar ! But if you take care. 
 To all he dies possessed of you are heir. 
 
 Peisthet^rus. [Interposing. 
 
 Poor fellow ! how he's leading you astray 
 With sophistry ! Just step aside this way. 
 And let me whisper in your ear what's true. 
 
 [They retire. 
 Oh, your designing uncle's gulling you ! 
 Of all your father's property no crumb 
 To you by any accident could come 
 As the law stands. You are a bastard born. 
 
 Hercules. 
 A bastard ! I receive your words with scorn. 
 
 Peisthet^rus. 
 Yet that precisely is your case, I vow. 
 Your mother being a foreigner : and How, 
 Think you, Athenfe could be heiress sole. 
 She being female, and so off the roll, 
 If she- had brothers lawfully begotten ? 
 
376 THE BIRDS. 
 
 Hercules. 
 In this at least your argument is rotten. 
 Cannot my father leave me in his will 
 The bastard's portion ? 
 
 Peisthet^rus. 
 
 Law against you still ! 
 Ay, this Boseidon, who can now cajole, 
 Would urge his claim superior to the whole, 
 Alleging he is Zeus's lawful brother, — 
 I quote the law of Solon and no other : — 
 
 " If there be children lawfully begotten, the principle 
 of kin doth not apply to children not born in wedlock ; 
 but if there be no children born in wedlock, then they 
 shall share the property with the next of kin." 
 Hercules. 
 To me, then, would accrue nor share nor use 
 Of the estates paternal? 
 
 PeISTHETjERUS. 
 
 None, by Zeus ! 
 But tell me now, to test if this be true, 
 Whether your father has yet entered you 
 Among the wardsmen. 
 
 Hercules. 
 
 Not in any wise : 
 And this long since occasioned me surprise. 
 
 Peisthet/erus. 
 Why then stand gaping like a naughty boy ? 
 If you will settle here, you shall enjoy 
 The cream of bird-delights, and be our king. 
 
 Hercules. 
 Again you seem to me just claims to bring, 
 Therefore to yield the damsel I propose. 
 
THE BIRDS. 377 
 
 PElSTHETiERUS. \To POSEIDON. 
 
 And you, sir ? 
 
 Poseidon. 
 I shall vote among the "noes."' 
 
 PeISTHETjERUS. 
 
 The whole thing rests with the Triballian now ; 
 He has the casting vote. What sayest thou ? 
 
 Triballus. 
 The gradely lass, so beautiful and tender, 
 Of yon great King aw to Bird-chap surrender. 
 
 Hercules. 
 He says " surrender." 
 
 Poseidon. 
 Nay, if I could follow, 
 Twas " don't surrender ; " if not, like a Swallow 
 He chatters gibberish. 
 
 Peisthet^erus. 
 
 Therefore, you see, 
 He naturally coincides with me. 
 Who represent the Swallows. 
 Poseidon. 
 
 Well, you two. 
 Since you agree in this, arrange and do 
 Whatever in the bargain must be done. 
 I don't consent, and so I'll hold my tongue. 
 
 Hercules. \To Peisthbt^erus. 
 To all your claims we perfectly agree, 
 So now ascend to heaven with us three, 
 And there receive the kingdom and your Bride. 
 
 PeISTHETjERUS. 
 
 How opportunely these carved rebels died 
 To grace our nuptials. 
 
378 THE BIRDS. 
 
 Hercules. 
 
 Shall I mind the roast, 
 And tarry here while you three travel post ? 
 Poseidon. 
 The roast ! Ah, how your carnal tastes appear ! 
 No ; come with us. 
 
 Hercules. [Reluctantly. 
 
 I should do better here. 
 Peisthet^rus. 
 But ere I go, some of you Birds provide 
 A wedding robe befitting such a bride. 
 
 [Exeufit PEiSTHETiERUs and the three Ambassadors. 
 
 PART X. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 The Song of Pleaders and Gluttons. 
 
 Beside the Clepsydra' there dwells at Phanse" 
 A clique who are wicked as wicked can be. 
 
 A clique rendered infamous all men among 
 For supplying the belly by using the tongue. 
 
 With the tongue in the summer they go out to mow. 
 With the tongue in the seed-time a harvest they sow. 
 
 With the tongue from the vineyards they suck out the wine. 
 With the tongue gather figs 3 when the produce is fine. 
 
 • The Clepsydra was a water-clock, which -marked the time allotted 
 to pleaders in the law courts. 
 
 " Phanse was the name of a promontory, used here from its resem- 
 blance to the Greek word for informing. 
 
 3 Allusion is made to the sycophants, or fig-informers, who gave infor- 
 mation against the exporters oKJigs. 
 
THE BIRDS. 379 
 
 They spring from the vilest barbarian masses, 
 These pestilent Philips and these Gorgiases. 
 
 'Twas from these gormandizers by means of the tongue, 
 These Philips— the custom in Attica sprung, 
 
 That the tongue of the victim, that member accurst, 
 Should be cut out and offered in sacrifice first. 
 
 Enter Messenger. 
 Messenger. 
 O ye who prosper far beyond all words. 
 Thrice happy nation of the winged Birds, 
 Prepare your welcome, for your King is come ; 
 Prepare your welcome to his happy home. 
 For never star enthroned in golden chair 
 Shone put at eve so gorgeously fair, 
 And never sun surveying brightest days 
 Shot forth afar such aureole of rays 
 As his who Cometh, leading in procession 
 A bride whose beauty beggars all expression ! 
 And brandishes in his majestic hand 
 The wingfed bolt of Zeus, his levin-brand ! 
 High heaven is full of incense — odours quite 
 Beyond one's power to name. O charming sight ! 
 For breezes blow the curling smoke aside. 
 And manifest the Bridegroom and the Bride. 
 He comes ! The Muse must sing a sacred song 
 In tones auspicious as they pass along. 
 
 Chorus. \pancing. 
 
 Advance, retire, pass through, expand, 
 
 Surround with exultation 
 Of voice and wing our fortunate King, 
 
 The King of a fortunate nation. 
 
38o THE BIRDS. 
 
 Hurrah for her youth and its budding charms, 
 
 Hurrah for her beauty's power ! 
 O King, you have taken this Bride to your arms 
 
 In a most auspicious hour. 
 
 Auspicious hour for the Birds, I ween, 
 
 Auspicious hour for the city ! 
 Now welcome the King, now welcome the Queen, 
 
 With a hymeneal ditty. 
 
 With such a ditty the Fates did steep, 
 
 In music tender and cheery, 
 The monarch of heavenly thrones asleep 
 
 By the side of Olympian Herfe. 
 
 Hymen ! O Hymenaee ! 
 
 When Eros, golden wingfed boy. 
 
 Came car-borne like a Peri, 
 As Paranymph to crown the joy 
 
 Of Zeus and his fortunate Herh 
 
 Hymen ! O Hymenaee ! 
 
 Pkisthet/erus. \From his chariot. 
 I rejoice in your hymns; in your odes I rejoice ! 
 I delight in your greeting ! But now raise your voice. 
 Invoking the thunder's gigantic mirth. 
 And the terrible lightnings that scorch the earth. 
 Chorus. 
 
 O great and golden lightning blaze ! 
 
 O fiery brand with deathless rays ! 
 
 And thou, O tempest-bearing thunder, 
 
 Rolling, jarring the earth asunder ! 
 
 Thro' you he shakes the world's foundation, 
 
 The sovereign lord of all creation. 
 
THE BIRDS. 381 
 
 And the daughter of Zeus reclines at his side, 
 The fair Basileia, his beautiful bride. 
 Hymen, O Hymenxe ! 
 
 PeisthetjErus. \yovially. 
 
 Come to the marriage, 
 The banquet waits. 
 Feathery flocks 
 
 Of the Birds, my mates ! 
 Haste, O haste 
 
 To the plain of air. 
 And the bridal chamber 
 
 That's garnished there. 
 Stretch out thy hand. 
 Sweet bride so free. 
 And clasp my wings 
 To waltz with me. 
 Thy lovely form I will tenderly bear 
 As we float to the music thro' liquid air. 
 
 \Exeunt waltzing. 
 Chorus. 
 O highest of divinities 
 
 We sing thy triumph-song, 
 Victory ! Hurrah ! Hurrah ! 
 The joyous shout prolong. 
 
 THE END. 
 
UNWIN BROTHERS, 
 
 PRINTERS, 
 
 CHILWORTH AND LONDON.