Elkin Mathews' Shilling Garlam 
 
 Price One Shilling, net y each part. 
 
 No. I. LONDON VISIONS: Book I. By 
 
 rence Bin yon. {Second Edition. 
 
 "Mr. Binyon leads off in Mr. Elkin Mathews' new poetical 
 series . . . with a book of new verses, * London Visions,' and 
 .there seems. to me to be no question about the uncommon worth of 
 'these. . . . They are twelve genuine things cut out of the heart 
 of London life, and some of them are poems of a big Order. . . . 
 The stuff of poetry is in him, as it is in few of ieur pleasant verse 
 writers to-day ; and I doubt if any of the London poets — 1 am not 
 forgetting Mr. Henley— has put so much of , actual" London into his 
 poetry. " — Sketch. 
 
 No. 2. PURCELL COMMEMORATION ODE, 
 other Poems.. By Robert Bridges. 
 
 [Second Edition. 
 
 No. 3. CHRIST IN HADES, and other Poems. By 
 Stephen Phillips. \Tkird Edition, 
 
 " It is a wonderful dream, a. dream that stirs the heart in 
 almost every line, though Christ himself never utters a word, 
 throughout the poem, but only brings his sad countenance and 
 bleeding brow and torn hands into that imaginary world of half 
 Ganeeiyed and chaotic gloom."— Spectator. 
 
 " This much at least is certain, that here we have, a new and 
 powerful individuality, standing quite alone among ' our ypunger , 
 poets, and one who has- the courage to attempt a. sustained effort on 
 a great theme. . y , . We welcome this poem as a high perforr 
 seriously undertaken and powerfully carried through, and as d« 
 -felt as it is vividly imagined "-^Saturday Review. 
 
 4 'The solemn music is matched by majestic words. The 
 poignancy of feeling which is in the^title-poem cries from the lyrics 
 also."— Speaker, 
 
 No. 4. AEROMANCY, and other Poems, By Margaret, 
 L. Woods. Second Edition, 
 
 • { Mrs. Woods is a poet of great power and originality."— 
 Globe. . 
 
FANCY'S GUERDON 
 
Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 in 2012 
 
 http://archive.org/details/fancysguerdonOOcole 
 
FANCY'S 
 GUERDON 
 
 BY ANODOS 
 
 LONDON 
 
 ELKIN MATHEWS, VIGO STREET 
 l8 97 
 
) 
 
NOTE 
 
 The verses, page I to page 23, have been reprinted, 
 by kind permission of Mr. Daniel, from "Fancy's 
 Following." 
 
FANCY'S GUERDON 
 
 " To thine own self be true ; 
 And it must follow, as the night the day, 
 Thou canst not then be false to any man." 
 
 True to myself am I, and false to all. 
 Fear, sorrow, love, constrain us till we die. 
 But when the lips betray the spirit's cry, 
 The will, that should be sovereign, is a thrall. 
 Therefore let terror slay me, ere I call 
 For aid of men. Let grief begrudge a sigh. 
 "Are you afraid?"— "unhappy?" "No!" The 
 lie 
 
 About the shrinking truth stands like a wall. 
 "And have you loved?" "No, never!" All the 
 while, 
 
 The heart within my flesh is turned to stone. 
 Yea, none the less that I account it vile, 
 The heart within my heart makes speechless 
 moan, 
 
 And when they see one face, one face alone, 
 The stern eyes of the soul are moved to smile. 
 
8 
 
 FANCY'S GUERDON 
 
 TWO WALKING TOGETHER 
 
 All around was dumb and still, 
 Dumb and still as any stone. 
 We went together over the hill, 
 But I came back alone. 
 
 All around was gray and dun, 
 Gray and dun by sea and shore. 
 When twilight fell, my love saw one, 
 Where she saw two before. 
 
 All around was barren ground, 
 Barren ground lay far and near. 
 I left him with a gaping wound, 
 And what had I to fear ? 
 
 When she asks me what befell, 
 What befel on Lady Day, 
 I, her lord, that love her well, 
 Whisper in her ear and say : — 
 
 "All around was dumb and still, 
 Dumb and still as any stone. 
 We went together over the hill, 
 But I came back alone." 
 
FANCY'S GUERDON 
 
 9 
 
 A MOMENT 
 
 The clouds had made a crimson crown 
 Above the mountains high. 
 The stormy sun was going down 
 In a stormy sky. 
 
 Why did you let your eyes so rest on me, 
 And hold your breath between ? 
 In all the ages this can never be 
 As if it had not been. 
 
IO 
 
 FANCY'S GUERDON 
 
 MASTER AND GUEST 
 
 There came a man across the moor, 
 Fell and foul of face was he. 
 He left the path by the cross-roads three, 
 And stood in the shadow of the door. 
 
 I asked him in to bed and board. 
 
 I never hated any man so. 
 
 He said he could not say me No. 
 
 He sat in the seat of my own dear lord. 
 
 " Now sit you by my side ! " he said, 
 <c Else may I neither eat nor drink. 
 You would not have me starve, I think." 
 He ate the offerings of the dead. 
 
 " I'll light you to your bed," quoth I. 
 " My bed is yours — but light the way ! " 
 I might not turn aside nor stay ; 
 I shewed him where we twain did lie. 
 
FANCY'S GUERDON 
 
 I 
 
 The cock was trumpeting the morn. 
 He said : " Sweet love, a long farewell ! 
 You have kissed a citizen of Hell, 
 And a soul was doomed when you were born. 
 
 Mourn, mourn no longer for your dear ! 
 Him may you never meet above. 
 The gifts that Love hath given to Love, 
 Love gives away again to Fear." 
 
12 
 
 FANCY'S GUERDON 
 
 IN THE BRERA 
 
 Full many a painter in the early days 
 Dreamt that he saw the Lord, and dreaming 
 smiled. 
 
 Yet saw he nothing save a little child, 
 The baby angels round him singing praise ; 
 Nothing he saw except the heavenward gaze, 
 The pure compassion of the undefiled : 
 Or else a man of sorrows, patient, mild, 
 His thoughts our thoughts, his ways our human 
 ways. 
 
 Thou only, Leonardo, didst behold 
 That which their eyes, desiring, sought in vain ; 
 And if — since thou wert cast in mortal mould — 
 Not all thy hand might do was free from stain, 
 All that was not immortal, making old, 
 Time painted out, and left the vision plain. 
 
FANCY'S GUERDON 
 
 13 
 
 OUR LADY 
 
 Mother of God ! no lady thou. 
 Common woman of common earth ! 
 Our Lady ladies call thee now. 
 But Christ was never of gentle birth ; 
 A common man of the common earth. 
 
 For God's ways are not as our ways. 
 
 The noblest lady in all the land 
 
 Would have given up half her days, 
 
 Would have cut off her right hand, 
 
 To bear the Child that was God of the land. 
 
 Never a lady did he choose, 
 Only a maid of low degree, 
 So humble she might not refuse 
 The carpenter of Galilee. 
 A daughter of the people, she. 
 
 Out she sang the song of her heart. 
 Never a lady so had sung. 
 She knew no letters, had no art ; 
 To all mankind, in woman's tongue, 
 Hath Israelitish Mary sung. 
 
14 
 
 FANCY'S GUERDON 
 
 And still for men to come she sings, 
 
 Nor shall her singing pass away. 
 
 " He hath filled the hungry with good things " — 
 
 O listen, lords and ladies gay ! — 
 
 " And the rich He hath sent empty away" 
 
FANCY'S GUERDON 
 
 15 
 
 FOR A PICTURE BY BURNE JONES, CALLED 
 "THE MERCIFUL knight" 
 
 The Knight is kneeling before a large Crucifix. 
 His enemy, riding away, looks back at him. 
 
 " Merciful Christ, from Thee it was not hid, 
 Merciful Christ, Who saw'st what this man did ; 
 This man in Thine own image — Christ forbid ! 
 
 " In Thine own image ? Nay ! this image here 
 
 Hath more of Thee I never yet knew 
 
 fear ; 
 
 I tremble lest that soul to Thee be dear ! 
 
 " Yet, an Thou lov'st all souls, Thou lovest this. 
 Thy life Thou gav'st that it might live in bliss, 
 Although it should betray Thee with a kiss. 
 
 cc How oft shall I forgive ? Seventy times seven ? 
 I had rather have lost my life here than forgiven. 
 I had rather have lost my life there, in Thy 
 Heaven, 
 
i6 FANCY'S GUERDON 
 
 " My heart is stone and doubts. Hast Thou a 
 heart ? 
 
 See, I forgive ! — With Thee I have no part. 
 A painted corpse — a thing of wood Thou art ! " 
 
 Thereat he saw no more a thing of wood. 
 Thereat Christ came into the Holy Rood. 
 Thereat he knelt and knew that Christ made 
 good. 
 
 The foe, whose hatred love could never tire, 
 Looked on a sudden back, with fierce desire, 
 And felt forgiveness burn like coals of fire. 
 
FANCY'S GUERDON 
 
 DEAD OF NIGHT 
 
 There was not a moon, but half a moon, 
 And the stars were faint and few. 
 There were clouds full soon at the night's high 
 noon, 
 
 And a rollicking wind that blew. 
 
 There were three that bled, there was one that 
 led, 
 
 Where they fought with four and three. 
 The silvery swords were crimson red, 
 And the grass was a sight to see. 
 
 They laughed as they fell, and they died right 
 well, 
 
 And they called to their foes for more. 
 
 " We will go to Hell, but the tale we'll tell 
 
 Of the seven that fought with four ! " 
 
 H 
 
8 
 
 FANCY'S GUERDON 
 
 THE DEVIL'S FUNERAL 
 
 The Devil is dead, good people all ! 
 Who are the bearers that bear the pall ? 
 
 One of them thinks he has slain God too, 
 With the self-same sword that Satan slew. 
 
 One of them thinks he has saved God's life, 
 The Devil was ever the God of strife. 
 
 A purple pall above him spread ! 
 
 A king it is that is that is lying dead. 
 
 The worst of kings never ruled so well 
 As this magnificent King of Hell. 
 
 What is the guerdon of all his pains ? 
 He is dead himself but Hell remains. 
 
 He forged his coffin before he died. 
 
 'Twas made of gold that was seven times tried 
 
 The glittering golden words of those, 
 Who counted themselves his chiefest foes, 
 
FANCY'S GUERDON 
 
 19 
 
 Where will you bury him ? Not on earth ! 
 In poison flowers he would come to birth. 
 
 We will not cast him into the sea. 
 
 The winds and the waves would set him free. 
 
 Lay him out straight on the funeral pyre, 
 All his life he has lived in fire. 
 
 And lo ! as the crackling flame burns bright, 
 Satan transformed to an angel of light, 
 
 That he may work more utter woe, 
 Than ever he worked when he dwelt below. 
 
 B— 2 
 
20 
 
 FANCY'S GUERDON 
 
 THE OTHER SIDE OF A MIRROR. 
 
 I sat before my glass one day, 
 And conjured up a vision bare, 
 Unlike the aspedls glad and gay, 
 That ert were found reflected there — 
 The vision of a woman, wild 
 With more than womanly despair. 
 
 Her hair stood back on either side 
 
 A face bereft of loveliness. 
 
 It had no envy now to hide 
 
 What once no man on earth could guess. 
 
 It formed the thorny aureole 
 
 Of hard, unsanctified distress. 
 
 Her lips were open — not a sound 
 Came through the parted lines of red, 
 Whate'er it was, the hideous wound 
 In silence and in secret bled. 
 No sigh relieved her speechless woe, 
 She had no voice to speak her dread. 
 
FANCY'S GUERDON 
 
 21 
 
 And in her lurid eyes there shone 
 
 The dying flame of life's desire, 
 
 Made mad because its hope was gone, 
 
 And kindled at the leaping fire 
 
 Of jealousy and fierce revenge, 
 
 And strength that could not change nor tire. 
 
 Shade of a shadow in the glass, 
 
 O set the crystal surface free ! 
 
 Pass — as the fairer visions pass — 
 
 Nor ever more return, to be 
 
 The ghost of a distracted hour, 
 
 That heard me whisper : — cc I am she ! " 
 
22 
 
 FANCY'S GUERDON 
 
 A HUGUENOT 
 
 O, a gallant set were they, 
 
 As they charged on us that day, 
 
 A thousand riding like one ! 
 
 Their trumpets crying, 
 
 And their white plumes flying, 
 
 And their sabres flashing in the sun. 
 
 O, a sorry lot were we, 
 As we stood beside the sea, 
 Each man for himself as he stood ! 
 We were scattered and lonely — 
 A little force only 
 
 Of the good men fighting for the good. 
 
 But I never loved more 
 
 On sea or on shore 
 
 The ringing of my own true blade. 
 
 Like lightning it quivered, 
 
 And the hard helms shivered, 
 
 As I sang : " None maketh me afraid ! " 
 
FANCY'S GUERDON 
 
 23 
 
 A DAY-DREAM 
 
 The murmur of the city sounded on 
 Below the plaintive murmur of a hymn 
 That Sabbath day ; the edge of life was gone, 
 A veil of smoke made all the houses dim. 
 My eyes forgot to see — and lo, they saw 
 A sight that filled my shaken soul with awe ! 
 
 For I was in a land where all lay clear 
 Betwixt the sunshine and the shining sand. 
 And nothing far there was and nothing near — 
 You might have touched the mountains with your 
 hand — 
 
 And yet I looked upon them o'er a plain 
 Vast as the vastness of the untravelled main. 
 
 Tall rows of pillars — stems of flowering stone 
 Sprang up around me in their ordered growth. 
 Here sat a maid — and there an ancient crone — 
 The straight, bright shafts of light illumined both. 
 No shadow was there and no sound — the hum 
 Of brooding silence kept the temple dumb. 
 
2 4 
 
 FANCY'S GUERDON 
 
 Three tombs of Kings, each with his corners three. 
 Shut out three spaces of the golden sky. 
 Clear, flat, and bright, they hid no mystery, 
 But painted mummies, of a scarlet dye, 
 That lay embalmed there many a long term, 
 Safe from unkindly damp and creeping worm. 
 
 Deep set beneath a sibyl's wrinkled brow, 
 The ancient woman's eyes were full of song. 
 They held the voice of Time ; and even now 
 I mind me how the burden rolled along, 
 For I forgot the music of the birds, 
 And music's self, and music knit to words. 
 
 Then did I turn me to the maiden ? s eyes, 
 And they were as the sea, brimming and deep. 
 Within them lay the secret of the skies, 
 The rhythmical tranquillity of sleep. 
 They were more quiet than a windless calm 
 Among the isles of spices and of balm. 
 
 Now music is an echo in mine ear, 
 And common stillness but the lack of noise, 
 For the true music I shall never hear, 
 Nor the true silence, mother of all joys. 
 They dwell apart on that enchanted ground 
 Where not a sb^dow falls and not a sound. 
 
FANCY'S GUERDON 
 
 25 
 
 I ASK OF THEE 
 
 I ask of thee, love, nothing but relief. 
 
 Thou canst not bring the old days back again ; 
 
 For I was happy then, 
 
 Not knowing heavenly joy, not knowing grief. 
 
26 
 
 FANCY'S GUERDON 
 
 SUN AND STORM 
 
 Open your gates, ye skies, and let the host 
 Of gathered waters fall, and drown the earth ! 
 Your hour of utmost terror is the ghost 
 Of that when Grief had birth. 
 
 The all-resplendent Spring, the pomp of May, 
 Through white and golden flowers the virgin 
 light, 
 
 Are but a thin gray shadow of the day 
 When Joy was at her height. 
 
FANCY'S GUERDON 
 
 27 
 
 l'oiseau bleu 
 
 The lake lay blue below the hill. 
 O'er it, as I looked, there flew 
 Across the waters, cold and still, 
 A bird whose wings were palest blue. 
 
 The sky above was blue at last, 
 The sky beneath me blue in blue. 
 A moment, ere the bird had passed, 
 It caught his image as he flew. 
 
FANCY'S GUERDON 
 
 JEALOUSY 
 
 " The myrtle bush grew shady 
 
 Down by the ford." — 
 
 "Is it even so ? " said my lady. 
 
 " Even so ! " said my lord. 
 
 " The leaves are set too close together 
 
 For the point of a sword." 
 
 " The arras in your room hangs close, 
 
 No light between ! 
 
 You wedded one of those 
 
 That see unseen." — 
 
 " Is it even so ? " said the King's Majesty. 
 " Even so ! " said the Queen. 
 
FANCY'S GUERDON 
 
 29 
 
 SHADOW 
 
 Child of my love! Though thou be bright 
 as day, 
 
 Though all the sons of joy laugh and adore thee, 
 Thou canst not throw thy shadow self away. 
 Where thou dost come, the earth is darker for 
 thee. 
 
 When thou dost pass, a flower that saw the sun 
 Sees him no longer. 
 
 The hosts of darkness are, thou radiant one, 
 By thee made stronger. 
 
FANCY'S GUERDON 
 
 PROSPERITY 
 
 Thy blessings are an armed band. 
 With a javelin and a dart, 
 With a spear to wound the heart, 
 Round about they stand. 
 
 Soul in honour glorified, 
 Be thou ware of deadly sin ! 
 Cruelty's the javelin, 
 The spear is pride. 
 
»< Aeromancy'is a fine poem, but there. are others in the slim 
 volume' likely to be more popular, 'The Mariner's Sleep by the 
 ^SnS, and still more so, 'T^Oxild Alone '^-the latter 
 a delightful picture of an imaginative child. Sketch, 
 
 "It fAeromancy] contains some very beautiful verses, but to 
 the. uninitiated reader they are somewhat incoherent. . . . 
 The gems of the small selection are 'An April Song and The 
 Child Alone.' The former is the very life and breatn of April at 
 its best.- . • . The. latter is an exquisite sketch. . . . It 
 would be impossible to express the elaborate and buoyant make- 
 believe of an imaginative child's reverie; with: more force and 
 humour than are given in these spirited verses. —Spectator, 
 
 No. 5. SONGS AND ODES. By Richard Watson 
 Dixon (Author of "Mano"). Selected by 
 Robert Bridges. 
 
 "The Odes have a sonorous stateliness, and a warmth of 
 \ colour which not infrequently reminds us of great masters."— 
 I Speaker. ( \ '-A 
 
 ^ c£ The present shilling book of lyrics shows the author at "his 
 ; best and should do something towards procuring him his due-rank 
 i among living poets. The poems are short and there are not many . 
 I of them but them, but they are insufficient to reveal the originality 
 I of thought and feeling, the loftiness of attitude, and the fine 
 I observation which mark Canon Dixon's work."— Saturday Revieiv. 
 
 I No. 6. THE PRAISE OF LIFE. By Laurence 
 
 I : L BlNYO*N. \ 
 
 " Mr Binyon is one of the most genuine and interesting of the 
 younger poets. He is not facile, not popular, and he may never 
 >am to be either. But he is of those about whom you never ask 
 *vhy he writes poetry. As a craftsman he is worth study. He 
 makes interesting and often successful^ experiments in metre. — 
 ketch. \ _ - - p ' „ 
 
 •'- "All are written with a solemn and a stately music of words. 
 -Scotsman, ' 
 
 No. 7. FANCY'S GUERDON. By Anodos (Author of 
 <f Fancy's Following "}• 
 
 '■* # * Other Volumes in preparation. < 
 
 LONDON : VIGO STREET, W. 
 
SHILLING GARLAND 
 
 NUMBER VII