THE TRAVELLER'S LIBRARY 
 
 ii tlie Wo 
 I 
 >n Addison, Walpoli 
 
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 ;tnd Gironiere'sPbiuipvini s 
 ii. Coverlby ; and South by's Love sfcrom 
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 i itral History of < 
 
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 s on Lord Byron & the Comk 
 
 I'ARLliAlKNTARY ReEOJRM (18H1 
 
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 lIHl I (TRKEY . 
 AVELLER, Fir? 
 
 and ..... 
 
DUKE 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
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THE TRAVELLERS LIBRA 
 
 rift and also of a character thai 
 
 Voyage Round th< 
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 I 
 - «»n Swift and Richardson ; and . . 
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 i. History of Creai 
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 I NAND &MAX 
 
 Philosopher in Paris 
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 mans of the Si 
 
 i URbS ill the Will. 
 >ma, abridjri-i 
 
 Writi: 
 
 hODKNSTEDT and WaGNKR'S SCHAMYL ; ill 
 
 M'Ci'i. loch's Russia and Tiirkey 
 
 i ;i Traveli.i ii, 1 serii 
 
 An Essay on Mom mom 
 
POEMS. 
 
 MATTHEW ARNOLD. 
 
 SECOKD SERIES. 
 
 LONDON : 
 LONGMAN, BROWN, GREEN, AND LONGMANS. 
 
London : 
 
 A. and G. A. Spottiswoodb. 
 
 New-street- Square. 
 
Ant 
 
 X&03 
 
 <2*t&U- 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGK 
 
 Balder Dead. An Episode 
 
 3 
 
 I. Sending 
 
 II. Journey to The Dead - - " ' 23 
 
 III. Funeral - - - " " " 41 
 The Sick King in Bokhara - - - - 75 
 The Harp- Plater on Etna' - 
 
 I. The Last Glen - - - - " 92 
 
 II Typho 
 III. Marsyas 
 
 95 
 98 
 
 IV. Apollo. - - . - * - 102 
 
 Fragment op an " Antigone " - - - - 108 
 
 Memorial Verses - - - " n ' 
 
 200236 
 
IV CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Revolutions - - - - - -122 
 
 The World and the Qutetist - - - 124 
 
 Faded Leaves --..-- 127 
 
 L The River - - - - - 129 
 
 II. Too Late - - - - - 131 
 
 IIL Separation - - - - - 132 
 
 IV. On the Rhine - - - - - 134 
 
 V. Longing. - - » - - 136 
 . Self-Deception - - - - - 138 
 
 Excuse -..-._ 140 
 
 Indifference - - - • - - -143 
 
 Resignation - - - - - - 145 
 
 Despondency -- - - - -160 
 
 The Philosopher and the Stars - - - 161 
 
 Desire - - - - - - -16 
 
 To a Gipsy Child by the Sea- Shore - - 167 
 
 Obermann - - - - - - 172 
 
CONTENTS. V 
 
 PAGE 
 
 The Buried Life - ... - 184 
 
 The Youth of Nature - 190 
 
 The Youth of Man - - - - - 198 
 
 A Summer Night .--•-- 205 
 
 2G0236 
 
llfieig £e kXeoq olov dKovoy.iv, ovOe tl idfiev. 
 
POEMS. 
 
BALDER DEAD. 
 
 AN EPISODE. 
 
 1. Sending. 
 
 So on the floor lay Balder dead ; and round 
 Lay thickly strewn swords axes darts and spears 
 Which all the Gods in sport had idly thrown 
 At Balder, whom no weapon pierc'd or clove : 
 But in his breast stood fixt the fatal bough 
 Of mistletoe, which Lok the Accuser gave 
 To Hoder, and unwitting Hoder threw : 
 'Gainst that alone had Balder's life no charm. 
 And all the Gods and all the Heroes came 
 And stood round Balder on the bloody floor 
 
4 BALDER DEAD. 
 
 Weeping and wailing ; and Valhalla rang 
 
 Up to its golden roof with sobs and cries : 
 
 And on the tables stood the untasted meats, 
 
 And in the horns and gold-rinim'd sculls the wine : 
 
 And now would Night have fall'n, and found them yet 
 
 Wailing ; but otherwise was Odin's will : 
 
 And thus the Father of the Ages spake : — 
 
 " Enough of tears, ye Gods, enough of wail ! 
 Not to lament in was Valhalla made. 
 If any here might weep for Balder's death 
 I most might weep, his Father ; such a son 
 I lose today, so bright, so lov'd a God. 
 But he has met that doom which long ago 
 The Nornies, when his mother bare him, spun, 
 And Fate set seal, that so his end must be. 
 Balder has met his death, and ye survive : 
 Weep him an hour ; but what can grief avail ? 
 For you yourselves, ye Gods, shall meet your doom, 
 All ye who hear me, and inhabit Heaven, 
 
BALDER DEAD. 5 
 
 And I too, Odin too, the Lord of all ; 
 
 But ours we shall not meet, when that day conies, 
 
 With woman's tears and weak complaining cries — 
 
 Why should we meet another's portion so ? 
 
 Rather it fits you, having wept your hour, 
 
 With cold dry eyes, and hearts compos'd and stern, 
 
 To live, as erst, your daily life in Heaven : 
 
 By me shall vengeance on the murderer Lok, 
 
 The Foe, the Accuser, whom, though Gods, we hate, 
 
 Be strictly car'd for, in the appointed day. 
 
 Meanwhile, tomorrow, when the morning dawns, 
 
 Bring wood to the seashore to Balder's ship, 
 
 And on the deck build high a funeral pile, 
 
 And on the top lay Balder's corpse, and put 
 
 Fire to the wood, and send him out to sea 
 
 To burn ; for that is what the dead desire." 
 
 So having spoke, the King of Gods arose 
 And mounted his horse Sleipner, whom he rode, 
 And from the hall of Heaven he rode away 
 b 3 
 
b BALDER DEAD. 
 
 To Lidskialf, and sate upon his throne, 
 The Mount, from whence his eye surveys the world. 
 And far from Heaven he turn'd his shining orbs 
 To look on Midgard, and the earth, and men : 
 And on the conjuring Lapps he bent his gaze 
 Whom antler'd reindeer pull over the snow ; 
 And on the Finns, the gentlest of mankind, 
 Fair men, who live in holes under the ground : 
 Nor did he look once more to Ida's plain, 
 Nor towards Valhalla, and the sorrowing Gods ; 
 For well he knew the Gods would heed his word, 
 And cease to mourn, and think of B alder's pyre. 
 
 But in Valhalla all the Gods went back 
 From around Balder, all the Heroes went ; 
 And left his body stretch'd upon the floor. 
 And on their golden chairs they sate again, 
 Beside the tables, in the hall of Heaven ; 
 And before each the cooks who serv'd them plac'd 
 New messes of the boar Serimner's flesh, 
 
BALDER DEAD. / 
 
 And the Valkyries crown'd their horns with mead. 
 So they, with pent-up hearts and tearless eyes, 
 Wailing no more, in silence ate and drank, 
 While Twilight fell, and sacred Night came on. 
 
 But the blind Hoder left the feasting Gods 
 In Odin's hall, and went through Asgard streets, 
 And past the haven where the Gods have moor'd 
 Their ships, and through the gate, beyond the wall. 
 Though sightless, yet his own mind led the God. 
 Down to the margin of the roaring sea 
 He came, and sadly went along the sand 
 Between the waves and black o'erhanging cliffs 
 Where in and out the screaming seafowl fly ; 
 Until he came to where a gully breaks 
 Through the cliff wall, and a fresh stream runs down 
 From the high moors behind, and meets the sea. 
 There in the glen Fensaler stands, the house 
 Of Frea, honour'd Mother of the Gods, 
 And shews its lighted windows to the main. 
 
 B 4 
 
8 BALDER DEAD. 
 
 There he went up, and pass'd the open doors : 
 And in the hall he found those women old, 
 The Prophetesses, who by rite eterne 
 On Frea's hearth feed high the sacred fire 
 Both night and day ; and by the inner wall 
 Upon her golden chair the Mother sate, 
 With folded hands, revolving things to come : 
 To her drew Hoder near, and spake, and said : — 
 
 " Mother, a child of bale thou bar'st in me. 
 For, first, thou barest me with blinded eyes, 
 Sightless and helpless, wandering weak in Heaven ; 
 And, after that, of ignorant witless mind 
 Thou barest me, and unforeseeing soul : 
 That I alone must take the branch from Lok, 
 The Foe, the Accuser, whom, though Gods, we hate, 
 And cast it at the dear-lov'd Balder's breast 
 At whom the Gods in sport their weapons threw — 
 'Gainst that alone had Balder's life no charm. 
 Now therefore what to attempt, or whither fly ? 
 
BALDER DEAD. 
 
 For who will bear my hateful sight in Heaven ? — 
 
 Can I, O Mother, bring them Balder back ? 
 
 Or — for thou know'st the Fates, and things allow'd- 
 
 Can I with Hela's power a compact strike, 
 
 And make exchange, and give my life for his ? " 
 
 He spoke ; the Mother of the Gods replied : — 
 " Hoder, ill-fated, child of bale, my son, 
 Sightless in soul and eye, what words are these ? 
 That one, long portion'd with his doom of death, 
 Should change his lot, and fill another's life, 
 And Hela yield to this, and let him go! 
 On Balder Death hath laid her hand, not thee ; 
 Nor doth she count this life a price for that. 
 For many Gods in Heaven, not thou alone, 
 Would freely die to purchase Balder back, 
 And wend themselves to Hela's gloomy realm. 
 For not so gladsome is that life in Heaven 
 Which Gods and Heroes lead, in feast and fray, 
 Waiting the darkness of the final times, 
 
10 BALDER DEAD. 
 
 That one should grudge its loss for Balder's sake, 
 
 Balder their joy, so bright, so lov'd a God. 
 
 But Fate withstands, and laws forbid this way* 
 
 Yet in my secret mind one way I know, 
 
 Nor do I judge if it shall win or fail : 
 
 But much must still be tried, which shall but fail." 
 
 And the blind Hoder answer'd her, and said : - 
 " What way is this, O Mother, that thou shew'st ? 
 Is it a matter which a God might try ? " 
 
 And straight the Mother of the Gods replied :- 
 " There is a way which leads to Hela's realm, 
 Untrodden, lonely, far from light and Heaven. 
 Who goes that way must take no other horse 
 To ride, but Sleipner, Odin's horse, alone. 
 Nor must he choose that common path of Gods 
 Which every day they come and go in Heaven, 
 O'er the bridge Bifrost, where is Heimdall's watch, 
 Past Midgard Fortress, down to Earth and men ; 
 
BALDER DEAD. 11 
 
 But he must tread a dark untravell'd road 
 Which branches from the north of Heaven, and ride 
 Nine days, nine nights, towards the northern ice, 
 Through valleys deep-engulph'd, with roaring 
 
 streams. 
 And he will reach on the tenth morn a bridge 
 Which spans with golden arches Giall's stream, 
 Not Bifrost, but that bridge a Damsel keeps, 
 Who tells the passing troops of dead their way 
 To the low shore of ghosts, and Hela's realm. 
 And she will bid him northward steer his course : 
 Then he will journey through no lighted land, 
 Nor see the sun arise, nor see it set ; 
 But he must ever watch the northern Bear 
 Who from her frozen height with jealous eye 
 Confronts the Dog and Hunter in the south, 
 And is alone not dipt in Ocean's stream. 
 And straight he will come down to Ocean's strand ; 
 Ocean, whose watery ring enfolds the world, 
 And on whose marge the ancient Giants dwell. 
 
12 BALDER DEAD. 
 
 But he will reach its unknown northern shore, 
 Far, far beyond the outmost Giant's home, 
 At the chink'd fields of ice, the waste of snow : 
 And he will fare across the dismal ice 
 Northward, until he meets a stretching wall 
 Barring his way, and in the wall a grate. 
 But then he must dismount, and on the ice 
 Tighten the girths of Sleipner, Odin's horse, 
 And make him leap the grate, and come within. 
 And he will see stretch round him Hela's realm, 
 The plains of Niflheim, where dwell the dead, 
 And hear the roaring of the streams of Hell. 
 And he will see the feeble shadowy tribes, 
 And Balder sitting crown'd, and Hela's throne. 
 Then he must not regard the wailful ghosts 
 Who all will flit, like eddying leaves, around ; 
 But he must straight accost their solemn Queen, 
 And pay her homage, and entreat with prayers, 
 Telling her all that grief they have in Heaven 
 For Balder, whom she holds by right below : 
 
BALDER DEAD. 13 
 
 If haply lie may melt her heart with words, 
 And make her yield, and give him Balder back." 
 
 She spoke : but Hoder answer'd her and 
 said : — 
 " Mother, a dreadful way is this thou shew'st. 
 No journey for a sightless God to go." 
 
 And straight the Mother of the Gods replied : — 
 " Therefore thyself thou shalt not go, my son. 
 But he whom first thou meetest when thou com'st 
 To Asgard, and declar'st this hidden way, 
 Shall go, and I will be his guide unseen." 
 
 She spoke, and on her face let fall her veil, 
 And bow'd her head, and sate with folded hands. 
 But at the central hearth those Women old 
 Who while the Mother spake had ceas'd their toil 
 Began again to heap the sacred fire : 
 And Hoder turn'd, and left his mother's house, 
 
14 BALDER DEAD. 
 
 Fensaler, whose lit windows look to sea ; 
 And came again down to the roaring waves, 
 And back along the beach to Asgard went, 
 Pondering on that which Frea said should be. 
 
 But Night came down, and darken'd Asgard 
 streets. 
 Then from their loathed feast the Gods arose, 
 And lighted torches, and took up the corpse 
 Of Balder from the floor of Odin's hall, 
 And laid it on a bier, and bare him home 
 Through the fast-darkening streets to his own house 
 Breidablik, on whose columns Balder grav'd 
 The enchantments, that recall the dead to life : 
 For wise he was, and many curious arts, 
 Postures of runes, and healing herbs he knew ; 
 Unhappy : but that art he did not know 
 To keep his own life safe, and see the sun : — 
 There to his hall the Gods brought Balder home, 
 And each bespake him as he laid him down : — 
 
BALDER DEAD. \5 
 
 " Would that ourselves, O Balder, we were borne 
 Home to our halls, with torchlight, by our kin, 
 So thou rnight'st live, and still delight the Gods." 
 
 They spake: and each went home to his own 
 house. 
 But there was one, the first of all the Gods 
 For speed, and Hermod was his name in Heaven ; 
 Most fleet he was, but now he went the last, 
 Heavy in heart for Balder, to his house 
 Which he in Asgard built him, there to dwell, 
 Against the harbour, by the city wall : 
 Him the blind Hoder met, as he came up 
 From the sea cityward, and knew his step ; 
 Nor yet could Hermod see his brother's face, 
 For it grew dark ; but Hoder touch'd his arm : 
 And as a spray of honeysuckle flowers 
 Brushes across a tired traveller's face 
 Who shuffles through the deep dew-moisten'd dust. 
 On a May evening, in the darken'd lanes, 
 
16 BALDER DEAD. 
 
 And starts him, that he thinks a ghost went by — 
 So Hoder brush'd by Hermod's side, and said : — 
 
 " Take Sleipner, Hermod, and set forth with dawn 
 To Hela's kingdom, to ask Balder back : 
 And they shall be thy guides, who have the power." 
 
 He spake, and brush'd soft by, and disappear'd. 
 And Hermod gaz'd into the night, and said : — 
 
 " Who is it utters through the dark his best 
 So quickly, and will wait for no reply ? 
 The voice was like the unhappy Hoder's voice. 
 Howbeit I will see, and do his hest ; 
 For there rang note divine in that command." 
 
 So speaking, the fleet-footed Hermod came 
 Home, and lay down to sleep in his own house, 
 And all the Gods lay down in their own homes. 
 And Hoder too came home, distraught with grief, 
 
BALDER DEAD. 17 
 
 Loathing to meet, at dawn, the other Gods : 
 And he went in, and shut the door, and fixt 
 His sword upright, and fell on it, and died. 
 
 But from the hill of Lidskialf Odin rose, 
 The throne, from which his eye surveys the 
 
 world ; 
 And mounted Sleipner, and in darkness rode 
 To Asgard. And the stars came out in Heaven, 
 High over Asgard, to light home the King. 
 But fiercely Odin gallop'd, mov'd in heart ; 
 And swift to Asgard, to the gate, he came : 
 And terribly the hoofs of Sleipner rang 
 Along the flinty floor of Asgard streets ; 
 And the Gods trembled on their golden beds 
 Hearing the wrathful Father coming home ; 
 For dread, for like a whirlwind, Odin came : 
 And to Valhalla's gate he rode, and left 
 Sleipner ; and Sleipner went to his own stall : 
 And in Valhalla Odin laid him down, 
 c 
 
18 BALDEB DEAD. 
 
 But in Breidablik Nanna, Balder's wife, 
 Came with the Goddesses who wrought her will, 
 And stood round Balder lying on his bier : 
 And at his head and feet she station'd Scalds 
 Who in their lives were famous for their song ; 
 These o'er the corpse inton'd a plaintive strain, 
 A dirge ; and Nanna and her train replied. 
 And far into the night they wail'd their dirge : 
 But when their souls were satisfied with wail, 
 They went, and laid them down, and Nanna went 
 Into an upper chamber, and lay down ; 
 And Frea seal'd her tired lids with sleep. 
 
 And 'twas when Night is bordering hard on 
 Dawn, 
 When air is chilliest, and the stars sunk low, 
 Then Balder's spirit through the gloom drew near, 
 In garb, in form, in feature as he was 
 Alive, and still the rays were round his head 
 Which were his glorious mark in Heaven ; he stood 
 
BALDER DEAD. 19 
 
 Over against the curtain of the bed, 
 
 And gaz'd on Nanna as she slept, and spake : — 
 
 " Poor lamb, thou sleepest, and forgett'st thy woe. 
 Tears stand upon the lashes of thine eyes, 
 Tears wet the pillow by thy cheek ; but thou, 
 Like a young child, hast cried thyself to sleep. 
 Sleep on : I watch thee, and am here to aid. 
 Alive I kept not far from thee, dear soul, 
 Neither do I neglect thee now, though dead. 
 For with tomorrow's dawn the Gods prepare 
 To gather wood, and build a funeral pile 
 Upon my ship, and burn my corpse with fire, 
 That sad, sole honour of the dead ; and thee 
 They think to burn, and all my choicest wealth, 
 With me, for thus ordains the common rite : 
 But it shall not be so : but mild, but swift, 
 But painless shall a stroke from Frea come, 
 To cut thy thread of life, and free thy soul, 
 And they shall burn thy corpse with mine, not thee, 
 c 2 
 
20 BALDER DEAD. 
 
 And well I know that by no stroke of death, 
 
 Tardy or swift, wouldst thou be loath to die, 
 
 So it restor'd thee, Nanna, to my side, 
 
 Whom thou so well hast lov'd : but I can smooth 
 
 Thy way, and this at least my prayers avail. 
 
 Yes, and I fain would altogether ward 
 
 Death from thy head, and with the Gods in Heaven 
 
 Prolong thy life, though not by thee desir'd : 
 
 But Right bars this, not only thy desire. 
 
 Yet dreary, Nanna, is the life they lead 
 
 In that dim world, in Hela's mouldering realm ; 
 
 And doleful are the ghosts, the troops of dead, 
 
 Whom Hela with austere controul presides ; 
 
 For of the race of Gods is no one there 
 
 Save me alone, and Hela, solemn Queen : 
 
 And all the nobler souls of mortal men 
 
 On battle-field have met their death, and now 
 
 Feast in Valhalla, in my Father's hall ; 
 
 Only the inglorious sort are there below, 
 
 The old, the cowards, and the weak are there, 
 
BALDER DEAD. 21 
 
 Men spent by sickness, or obscure decay. 
 But even there, O Nanna, we might find 
 Some solace in each other's look and speech, 
 Wandering together through that gloomy world, 
 And talking of the life we led in Heaven, 
 While we yet liv'd, among the other Gods." 
 
 He spake, and straight his lineaments began 
 To fade : and Nanna in her sleep stretch'd out 
 Her arms towards him with a cry ; but he 
 Mournfully shook his head, and disappear'd. 
 And as the woodman sees a little smoke 
 Hang in the air, afield, and disappear — 
 So Balder faded in the night away. 
 And Nanna on her bed sunk back : but then 
 Frea, the Mother of the Gods, with stroke 
 Painless and swift, set free her airy soul, 
 Which took, on Balder's track, the way below : 
 And instantly the sacred Morn appear'd. 
 
 c 3 
 
BALDER DEAD. l2o 
 
 2. Journey to The Dead. 
 
 Forth from the East, up the ascent of Heaven, 
 Day drove his courser with the Shining Mane ; 
 And in Valhalla, from his gable perch, 
 The golden-crested Cock began to crow : 
 Hereafter, in the blackest dead of night, 
 With shrill and dismal cries that Bird shall crow, 
 Warning the Gods that foes draw nigh to Heaven ; 
 But now he crew at dawn, a cheerful note, 
 To wake the Gods and Heroes to their tasks. 
 And all the Gods, and all the Heroes, woke. 
 And from their beds the Heroes rose, and donn'd 
 Their arms, and led their horses from the stall, 
 And mounted them, and in Valhalla's court 
 Were rang'd ; and then the daily fray began, 
 c 4 
 
24 BALDER DEAD. 
 
 And all day long they there are haek'd and hewn 
 'Mid dust, and groans, and limbs lopp'd off, and blood ; 
 But all at night return to Odin's hall 
 Woundless and fresh : such lot is theirs in Heaven. 
 And the Valkyries on their steeds went forth 
 Toward Earth and fights of men ; and at their side 
 Skulda, the youngest of the Nornies, rode : 
 And over Bifrost, where is Heimdall's watch, 
 Past Midgard Fortress, down to Earth they came : 
 There through some battle-field, where men fall fast, 
 Their horses fetlock-deep in blood, they ride, 
 And pick the bravest warriors out for death, 
 Whom they bring back with them at night to Heaven, 
 To glad the Gods, and feast in Odin's hall. 
 
 But the Gods went not now, as other while, 
 Into the Tilt- Yard, where the Heroes fought, 
 To feast their eyes with looking on the fray : 
 Nor did they to their Judgment-Place repair 
 By the ash Igdrasil, in Ida's plain, 
 
BALDER DEAD. 25 
 
 Where they hold council, and give laws for men : 
 But they went, Odin first, the rest behind, 
 To the hall Gladheim, which is built of gold ; 
 Where are in circle rang'd twelve golden chair-. 
 And in the midst one higher, Odin's throne : 
 There all the Gods in silence sate them down ; 
 And thus the Father of the Ages spake : — 
 
 " Go quickly, Gods, bring wood to the seashore, 
 With all, which it beseems the dead to have, 
 And make a funeral pile on Balder's ship. 
 On the twelfth day the Gods shall burn his corpse. 
 But Hermod, thou, take Sleipner, and ride down 
 To Hela's kingdom, to ask Balder back." 
 
 So said he ; and the Gods arose, and took 
 Axes and ropes, and at their head came Thor, 
 Shouldering his Hammer, which the Giants know : 
 Forth wended they, and drove their steeds before : 
 And up the dewy mountain tracks they far'd 
 
26 BALDER DEAD. 
 
 To the dark forests, in the early dawn; 
 And up and down and side and slant they roam'd : 
 And from the glens all day an echo came 
 Of crashing falls ; for with his hammer Thor 
 Smote 'mid the rocks the lichen-bearded pines 
 And burst their roots ; while to their tops the Gods 
 Made fast the woven ropes, and hal'd them down, 
 And lopp'd their boughs, and clove them on the 
 
 sward, 
 And bound the logs behind their steeds to draw, 
 And drove them homeward ; and the snorting steeds 
 Went straining through the crackling brushwood 
 
 down, 
 And by the darkling forest paths the Gods 
 Follow'd, and on their shoulders carried boughs. 
 And they came out upon the plain, and pass'd 
 Asgard, and led their horses to the beach, 
 And loos'd them of their loads on the seashore, 
 And rang'd the wood in stacks by Balder's ship ; 
 And every God went home to his own house. 
 
BALDER DEAD. 27 
 
 But when the Gods were to the forest gone 
 Hermod led Sleipner from Valhalla forth 
 And saddled him ; before that, Sleipner brook'd 
 No meaner hand than Odin's on his mane, 
 On his broad back no lesser rider bore : 
 Yet docile now he stood at Hermod's side, 
 Arching his neck, and glad to be bestrode, 
 Knowing the God they went to seek, how dear. 
 But Hermod mounted him, and sadly far'd, 
 In silence, up the dark untravell'd road 
 Which branches from the north of Heaven, and went 
 All day ; and Daylight wan'd, and Night came on. 
 And all that night he rode, and journey'd so, 
 Nine days, nine nights, towards the northern ice, 
 Through valleys deep engulph'd, by roaring streams : 
 And on the tenth morn he beheld the bridge 
 Which spans with golden arches GialPs stream, 
 And on the bridge a Damsel watching arm'd, 
 In the strait passage, at the further end, 
 Where the road issues between walling rocks. 
 
28 BALDER DEAD. 
 
 Scant space that Warder left for passers by ; 
 But, as when cowherds in October drive 
 Their kine across a snowy mountain pass 
 To winter pasture on the southern side, 
 And on the ridge a waggon chokes the way 
 Wedg'd in the snow ; then painfully the hinds 
 With goad and shouting urge their cattle past, 
 Plunging through deep untrodden banks of snow 
 To right and left, and warm steam fills the air — 
 So on the bridge that Damsel block'd the way, 
 And question'd Hermod as he came, and said : — 
 
 " Who art thou on thy black and fiery horse 
 Under whose hoofs the bridge o'er GialTs stream 
 Rumbles and shakes ? Tell me thy race and home. 
 But yestermorn five troops of dead pass'd by 
 Bound on their way below to Hela's realm, 
 Nor shook the bridge so much as thou alone. 
 And thou hast flesh and colour on thy cheeks 
 Like men who live and draw the vital air ; 
 
BALDER DEAD. 29 
 
 Nor look'st thou pale and wan, like men deceas'd, 
 Souls bound below, mj daily passers here." 
 
 And the fleet-footed Herinod answer'd her : — 
 " O Damsel, Hermod am I calFd, the son 
 Of Odin ; and my high-roof'd house is built 
 Far hence, in Asgard, in the City of Gods : 
 And Sleipner, Odin's horse, is this I ride. 
 And I come, sent this road on Balder'a track : 
 Say then, if he hath cross'd thy bridge or no ? " 
 
 He spake ; the Warder of the bridge replied : — 
 " O Hermod, rarely do the feet of Gods 
 Or of the horses of the Gods resound 
 Upon my bridge ; and, when they cross, I know. 
 Balder hath gone this way, and ta'en the road 
 Below there, to the north, toward Hela's realm. 
 From here the cold white mist can be discern'd, 
 Not lit with sun, but through the darksome air 
 By the dim vapour-blotted light of stars, 
 
30 BALDER DEAD. 
 
 Which hangs over the ice where lies the road. 
 For in that ice are lost those northern streams 
 Freezing and ridging in their onward flow, 
 Which from the fountain of Vergelmer run, 
 The spring that bubbles up by Hela's throne. 
 There are the joyless seats, the haunt of ghosts, 
 Hela's pale swarms ; and there was Balder bound. 
 Ride on ; pass free : but he by this is there." 
 
 She spake, and stepp'd aside, and left him room. 
 Aud Hermod greeted her, and gallop'd by 
 Across the bridge ; then she took post again. 
 But northward Hermod rode, the way below : 
 And o'er a darksome tract, which knows no sun, 
 But by the blotted light of stars, he far'd ; 
 And he came down to Ocean's northern strand 
 At the drear ice, beyond the Giants' home : 
 Thence on he journey'd o'er the fields of ice 
 Still north, until he met a stretching wall 
 Barring his way, and in the wall a grate. 
 
BALDER DEAD. 31 
 
 Then he dismounted, .and drew tight the girths, 
 On the smooth ice, of Sleipner, Odin's horse, 
 And made him leap the grate, and came within. 
 And he beheld spread round him Hela's realm, 
 The plains of Niflheim, where dwell the dead, 
 And heard the thunder of the streams of Hell. 
 For near the wall the river of Roaring flows, 
 Outmost : the others near the centre run — 
 The Storm, the Abyss, the Howling, and the Pain : 
 These flow by Hela's throne, and near their spring. 
 And from the dark flock'd up the shadowy tribes : 
 And as the swallows crowd the bulrush-beds 
 Of some clear river, issuing from a lake, 
 On autumn days, before they cross the sea ; 
 And to each bulrush-crest a swallow hangs 
 Swinging, and others skim the river streams, 
 And their quick twittering fills the banks and shores — 
 So around Hermod swarm'd the twittering ghosts. 
 Women, and infants, and young men who died 
 Too soon for fame, with white ungraven shields ; 
 
32 BALDER DEAD. 
 
 And old men, known to Glory, but their star 
 Betray'd them, and of wasting age they died, 
 Not wounds : yet, dying, they their armour wore, 
 And now have chief regard in Hela's realm. 
 Behind flock'd wrangling up a piteous crew, 
 Greeted of none, disfeatur'd and forlorn — 
 Cowards, who were in sloughs interr'd alive : 
 And round them still the wattled hurdles hung 
 Wherewith they stamp'd them down, and trod them 
 
 deep, 
 To hide their shameful memory from men. 
 But all he pass'd unhail'd, and reach'd the throne 
 Of Hela, and saw, near it, Balder crown'd, 
 And Hela set thereon, with countenance stern ; 
 And thus bespake him first the solemn Queen : — 
 
 " Unhappy, how hast thou endur'd to leave 
 The light, and journey to the cheerless land 
 Where idly flit about the feeble shades ? 
 How didst thou cross the bridge o'er Giall's stream, 
 
BALDER DEAD. 33 
 
 Being alive, and come to Ocean's shore ? 
 
 Or how o'erleap the grate that bars the wall ? " 
 
 She spake : but down off Sleipner Hermod sprang, 
 And fell before her feet, and clasp'd her knees ; 
 And spake, and mild entreated her, and said : — 
 
 " Hela, wherefore should the Gods declare 
 Their errands to each other, or the ways 
 They go ? the errand and the way is known. 
 Thou know'st, thou know'st, what grief we have in 
 
 Heaven 
 For Balder, whom thou hold'st by right below : 
 Restore him, for what part fulfils he here ? 
 Shall he shed cheer over the cheerless seats, 
 And touch the apathetic ghosts with joy ? 
 Not for such end, O Queen, thou hold'st thy realm. 
 For Heaven was Balder born, the City of Gods 
 And Heroes, where they live in light and joy : 
 Thither restore him, for his place is there." 
 
 D 
 
34 BALDER DEAD. 
 
 He spoke ; and grave replied the solemn Queen: — 
 M Herruod, for he thou art, thou Son of Heaven ! 
 A strange unlikely errand, sure, is thine. 
 Do the Gods send to me to make them blest ? 
 Small bliss my race hath of the Gods obtain'd. 
 Three mighty children to my Father Lok 
 Did Angerbode, the Giantess, bring forth — 
 Fenris the Wolf, the Serpent huge, and Me : 
 Of these the Serpent in the sea ye cast, 
 Who since in your despite hath wax'd amain, 
 And now with gleaming ring enfolds the world : 
 Me on this cheerless nether world ye threw 
 And gave me nine unlighted realms to rule : 
 While on his island in the lake, afar, 
 Made fast to the bor'd crag, by wile not strength 
 Subdu'd, with limber chains lives Fenris bound. 
 Lok still subsists in Heaven, our Father wise, 
 Your mate, though loath'd, and feasts in Odin's hall ; 
 But him too foes await, and netted snares, 
 And in a cave a bed of needle rocks, 
 
BALDER DEAD. 35 
 
 And o'er his visage serpents dropping gall. 
 Yet he shall one day rise, and burst his bonds, 
 And with himself set us his offspring free, 
 When he guides Muspel's children to their bourne. 
 Till then in peril or in pain we live, 
 Wrought by the Gods : and ask the Gods our aid ? 
 Howbeit we abide our day : till then, 
 We do not as some feebler haters do, 
 Seek to afflict our foes with petty pangs, 
 Helpless to better us, or ruin them. 
 Come then ; if Balder was so dear belov'd, 
 And this is true, and such a loss is Heaven's — 
 Hear, how to Heaven may Balder be restor'd. 
 Shew me though all the world the signs of grief : 
 Fails but one thing to grieve, here Balder stops : 
 Let all that lives and moves upon the earth 
 Weep him, and all that is without life weep : 
 Let Gods, men, brutes, beweep him ; plants and stones. 
 So shall I know the lost was dear indeed, 
 And bend my heart, and give him back to Heaven." 
 d 2 
 
36 BALDER BEAD. 
 
 She spake ; and Hermod answer'd her, and 
 said : — 
 " Hela, such as thou say'st, the terms shall be. 
 But come, declare me this, and truly tell : 
 May I, ere I depart, bid Balder hail ? 
 Or is it here withheld to greet the dead? " 
 
 He spake ; and straightway Hela answer'd him: — 
 " Hermod, greet Balder if thou wilt, and hold 
 Converse : his speech remains, though he be dead." 
 
 And straight to Balder Hermod turn'd, and 
 spake : — 
 ; ' Even in the abode of Death, O Balder, hail ! 
 Thou hear'st, if hearing, like as speech, is thine, 
 The terms of thy releasement hence to Heaven : 
 Fear nothing but that all shall be fulfill'd. 
 For not unmindful of thee are the Gods 
 Who see the light, and blest in Asgard dwell ; 
 Even here they seek thee out, in Hela's realm. 
 
BALDER DEAD. 37 
 
 And sure of all the happiest far art thou 
 Who ever have been known in Earth or Heaven : 
 Alive, thou wert of Gods the most belov'd : 
 And now thou sittest crown'd by Hela's side, 
 Here, and hast honour among all the dead." 
 
 He spake ; and Balder utter'd him reply, 
 But feebly, as a voice far off ; he said : — 
 
 " Hermod the nimble, gild me not my death. 
 
 Better to live a slave, a captur'd man, 
 
 Who scatters rushes in a master's hall, 
 
 Than be a crown'd king here, and rule the dead. 
 
 And now I count not of these terms as safe 
 
 To be fulfill'd, nor my return as sure, 
 
 Though I be lov'd, and many mourn my death : 
 
 For double-minded ever was the seed 
 
 i 
 Of Lok, and double are the gifts they give. 
 
 Howbeit, report thy message ; and therewith, 
 
 To Odin, to my Father, take this ring, 
 
 D 3 
 
33 BALDER DEAD. 
 
 Memorial of me, whether sav'd or no : 
 
 And tell the Heaven-born Gods how thou hast seen 
 
 Me sitting here below by Hela's side, 
 
 Crown'd, having honour among all the dead. " 
 
 He spake, and rais'd his hand, and gave the ring. 
 And with inscrutable regard the Queen 
 Of Hell beheld them, and the ghosts stood dumb. 
 But Hermod took the ring, and yet once more 
 Kneel'd and did homage to the solemn Queen ; 
 Then mounted Sleipner, and set forth to ride 
 Back, through the astonish'd tribes of dead, to Heaven. 
 And to the wall he came, and found the grate 
 Lifted, and issued on the fields of ice ; 
 And o'er the ice he far'd to Ocean's strand, 
 And up from thence, a wet and misty road, 
 To the arm'd Damsel's bridge, and Giall's stream. 
 Worse was that way to go than to return, 
 For him : for others all return is barr'd. 
 Nine days he took to go, two to return ; 
 
BALDER DEAD. 39 
 
 And on the twelfth morn saw the light of Heaven. 
 And as a traveller in the early dawn 
 To the steep edge of some great valley comes 
 Through which a river flows, and sees beneath 
 Clouds of white rolling vapours fill the vale, 
 But o'er them, on the farther slope, descries 
 Vineyards, and crofts, and pastures, bright with sun — 
 So Hermod, o'er the fog between, saw Heaven. 
 And Sleipner snorted, for he smelt the air 
 Of Heaven : and mightily, as wing'd, he flew. 
 And Hermod saw the towers of Asgard rise : 
 And he drew near, and heard no living voice 
 In Asgard ; but the golden halls were dumb. 
 Then Hermod knew what labour held the Gods : 
 And through the empty streets he rode, and pass'd 
 Under the gate-house to the sands, and found 
 The Gods on the seashore by Balder's ship. 
 
 D 4 
 
BALDER DEAD. 
 
 41 
 
 3. F uner ah 
 
 The Gods held talk together, group'd in knots, 
 Round Balder's corpse, which they had thither borne ; 
 And Hermod came down towards them from the gate. 
 And Lok, the Father of the Serpent, first 
 Beheld him come, and to his neighbour spake : — 
 
 " See, here is Hermod, who comes single back 
 From Hell ; and shall I tell thee how he seems ? 
 Like as a farmer, who hath lost his dog, 
 One morn, at market, in a crowded town — 
 Through many streets the poor beast runs in vain, 
 And follows this man after that, for hours ; 
 And, late at evening, spent and panting, falls 
 Before a stranger's threshold, not his home, 
 With flanks a-tremble, and his slender tongue 
 
42 BALDER DEAD. 
 
 Hangs quivering out between his dust-smear'd jaws, 
 And piteously he eyes the passers by : 
 But home his master comes to his own farm, 
 Far in the country, wondering where he is — 
 So Hermod comes today unfollow'd home." 
 » 
 And straight his neighbour, mov'd with wrath, 
 replied : — 
 " Deceiver, fair in form, but false in heart, 
 Enemy, Mocker, whom, though Gods, we hate — 
 Peace, lest our Father Odin hear thee gibe. 
 Would I might see him snatch thee in his hand, 
 And bind thy carcase, like a bale, with cords, 
 And hurl thee in a lake, to sink or swim. 
 If clear from plotting B alder's death, to swim ; 
 But deep, if thou devisedst it, to drown, 
 And perish, against fate, before thy day ! " 
 
 So they two soft to one another spake. 
 But Odin look'd toward the land, and saw 
 
BALDER DEAD. 43 
 
 His messenger ; and he stood forth, and cried : 
 And Hermod came, and leapt from Sleipner down, 
 And in his Father's hand put Sleipner's rein, 
 And greeted Odin and the Gods, and said: — 
 
 " Odin, my Father, and ye, Gods of Heaven ! 
 Lo, home, having perform'd your will, I come. 
 Into the joyless kingdom have I been, 
 Below, and look'd upon the shadowy tribes 
 Of ghosts, and commun'd with their solemn Queen ; 
 And to your prayer she sends you this reply : — 
 Shew her through all the world the signs of grief : 
 Fails but one thing to grieve, there Balder stops. 
 Let Gods, men, brutes, beweep him, plants and 
 
 stones. 
 So shall she know your loss was dear indeed, 
 And bend her heart, and give you Balder back." 
 
 He spoke ; and all the Gods to Odin look'd : 
 And straight the Father of the Ages said : — 
 
44 BALDER DEAD. 
 
 " Ye Gods, these terms may keep another day. 
 But now, put on your arms, and mount your steeds, 
 And in procession all come near, and weep 
 Balder ; for that is what the dead desire. 
 When ye enough have wept, then build a pile 
 Of the heap'd wood, and burn his corpse with fire 
 Out of our sight ; that we may turn from grief, 
 And lead, as erst, our daily life in Heaven." 
 
 He spoke ; and the Gods arm'd : and Odin 
 donn'd 
 His dazzling corslet and his helm of gold, 
 And led the way on Sleipner : and the rest 
 Follow'd, in tears, their Father and their King. 
 And thrice in arms around the dead they rode, 
 Weeping ; the sands were wetted, and their arms, 
 With their thick-falling tears : so good a friend 
 They mourn'd that day, so bright, so lov'd a God. 
 And Odin came, and laid his kingly hands 
 On B alder's breast, and thus began the wail : — 
 
BALDER DEAD. 45 
 
 " Farewell, O Balder, bright and lov'd, my Son ! 
 In that great day, the Twilight of the Gods, 
 When Muspel's children shall beleaguer Heaven, 
 Then we shall miss thy counsel and thy arm." 
 
 Thou earnest near the next, O Warrior Thor ! 
 Shouldering thy Hammer, in thy chariot drawn, 
 Swaying the long-hair'd Goats with silver'd rein ; 
 And over Balder's corpse these words didst say : — 
 
 " Brother, thou dwellest in the darksome land, 
 And talkest with the feeble tribes of ghosts, 
 Now, and I know not how they prize thee there, 
 But here, I know, thou wilt be miss'd and mourn'd. 
 For haughty spirits and high wraths are rife 
 Among the Gods and Heroes here in Heaven, 
 As among those, whose joy and work is war : 
 And daily strifes arise, and angry words : 
 But from thy lips, O Balder, night or day, 
 Heard no one ever an injurious word 
 
46 BALDER DEAD. 
 
 To God or Hero, but thou keptest back 
 
 The others, labouring to compose their brawls. 
 
 Be ye then kind, as Balder too was kind: 
 
 For we lose him, who smooth'd all strife in Heaven. 
 
 He spake : and all the Gods assenting wail'd. 
 And Freya next came nigh, with golden tears : 
 The loveliest Goddess she in Heaven, by all 
 Most honour'd after Frea, Odin's wife : 
 Her long ago the wandering Oder took 
 To mate, but left her to roam distant lands ; 
 Since then she seeks him, and weeps tears of gold : 
 Names hath she many ; Vanadis on earth 
 They call her ; Freya is her name in Heaven : 
 She in her hands took Balder's head, and spake : — 
 
 " Balder, my brother, thou art gone a road 
 Unknown and long, and haply on that way 
 My long-lost wandering Oder thou hast met, 
 For in the paths of Heaven he is not found. 
 
BALDER DEAD. 47 
 
 Oh, if it be so, tell him what thou wert 
 
 To his neglected wife, and what he is, 
 
 And wring his heart with shame, to hear thy word. 
 
 For he, my husband, left me here to pine, 
 
 Not long a wife, when his unquiet heart 
 
 First drove him from me into distant lands. 
 
 Since then I vainly seek him through the world. 
 
 And weep from shore to shore my golden tears, 
 
 But neither god nor mortal heeds my pain. 
 
 Thou only, Balder, wert for ever kind, 
 
 To take my hand, and wipe my tears, and say : — 
 
 Weep not, Freya, weep no golden tears ! 
 
 One day the wandering Oder will return, 
 
 Or thou wilt find him in thy faithful search 
 
 On some great road, or resting in an inn, 
 
 Or at a ford, or sleeping by a tree. — 
 
 So Balder said ; but Oder, well I know, 
 
 My truant Oder I shall see no more 
 
 To the world's end ; and Balder now is gone ; 
 
 And I am left uncomforted in Heaven." 
 
48 BALDER DEAD. 
 
 She spake ; and all the Goddesses bewail'd. 
 Last, from among the Heroes one came near, 
 No God, but of the Hero-troop the chief — 
 Regner, who swept the northern sea with fleets, 
 And rul'd o'er Denmark and the heathy isles, - 
 Living ; but Ella captur'd him and slew : 
 A king, whose fame then fill'd the vast of Heaven, 
 Now time obscures it, and men's later deeds : 
 He last approach'd the corpse, and spake, and said :- 
 
 " Balder, there yet are many Scalds in Heaven 
 Still left, and that chief Scald, thy brother Brage, 
 Whom we may bid to sing, though thou art gone : 
 And all these gladly, while we drink, we hear, 
 After the feast is done, in Odin's hall : 
 But they harp ever on one string, and wake 
 Remembrance in our soul of wars alone, 
 Such as on earth we valiantly have wag'd, 
 And blood, and ringing blows, and violent death : 
 But when thou sangest, Balder, thou didst strike 
 
BALDER DEAD. 49 
 
 Another note, and, like a bird in spring, 
 
 Thy voice of joyance minded us, and youth, 
 
 And wife, and children, and our ancient home. 
 
 Yes, and I too remember'd then no more 
 
 My dungeon, where the serpents stung me dead, 
 
 Nor Ella's victory on the English coast ; 
 
 But I heard Thora laugh in Gothland Isle ; 
 
 And saw my shepherdess, Aslauga, tend 
 
 Her flock along the white Norwegian beach : 
 
 Tears started to mine eyes with yearning joy : 
 
 Therefore with grateful heart I mourn thee dead." 
 
 So Regner spake, and all the Heroes groan'd. 
 But now the sun had pass'd the height of Heaven, 
 And soon had all that day been spent in wail ; 
 But then the Father of the Ages said : — 
 
 " Ye Gods, there well may be too much of wail. 
 Bring now the gather'd wood to Balder's ship ; 
 Heap on the deck the logs, and build the pyre." 
 
 E 
 
50 BALDER DEAD. 
 
 But when the Gods and Heroes heard, they 
 brought 
 The wood to B alder's ship, and built a pile, 
 Full the deck's breadth, and lofty ; then the corpse 
 Of Balder on the highest top they laid, 
 With Nanna on his right, and on his left 
 Hoder, his brother, whom his own hand slew. 
 And they set jars of wine and oil to lean 
 Against the bodies, and stuck torches near, 
 Splinters of pine-wood, soak'd with turpentine ; 
 And brought his arms and gold, and all his stuff, 
 And slew the dogs which at his table fed, 
 And his horse, B alder's horse, whom most he lov'd, 
 And threw them on the pyre, and Odin threw 
 A last choice gift thereon, his golden ring. 
 They fixt the mast, and hoisted up the sails, 
 Then they put fire to the wood ; and Thor 
 Set his stout shoulder hard against the stern 
 To push the ship through the thick sand : sparks flew 
 From the deep trench she plough'd — so strong a God 
 
BALDER DEAD. 51 
 
 Furrow'd it — and the water gurgled in. 
 
 And the Ship floated on the waves, and rock'd : 
 
 But in the hills a strong East- Wind arose, 
 
 And came down moaning to the sea ; first squalls 
 
 Ran black o'er the sea's face, then steady rush'd 
 
 The breeze, and fill'd the sails, and blew the fire. 
 
 And, wreath'd in smoke, the Ship stood out to sea. 
 
 Soon with a roaring rose the mighty fire, 
 
 And the pile crackled ; and between the logs 
 
 Sharp quivering tongues of flame shot out, and leapt, 
 
 Curling and darting, higher, until they lick'd 
 
 The summit of the pile, the dead, the mast, 
 
 And ate the shrivelling sails ; but still the Ship 
 
 Drove on, ablaze, above her hull, with fire. 
 
 And the Gods stood upon the beach, and gaz'd : 
 
 And, while they gaz'd, the Sun went lurid down 
 
 Into the smoke-wrapt sea, and Night came on. 
 
 Then the wind fell, with night, and there was calm. 
 
 But through the dark they watch'd the burning Ship 
 
 Still carried o'er the distant waters on 
 
 E 2 
 
01 BALDER DEAD. 
 
 Farther and farther, like an Eye of Fire. 
 
 And as in the dark night a travelling man 
 
 Who bivouacs in a forest 'mid the hills, 
 
 Sees suddenly a spire of flame shoot up 
 
 Out of the black waste forest, far below, 
 
 Which woodcutters have lighted near their lodge 
 
 Against the wolves ; and all night long it flares : — 
 
 So flar'd, in the far darkness, Balder's pyre. 
 
 But fainter, as the stars rose high, it burn'd ; 
 
 The bodies were consum'd, ash chok'd the pile : 
 
 And as in a decaying winter fire 
 
 A charr'd log, falling, makes a shower of sparks — 
 
 So, with a shower of sparks, the pile fell in, 
 
 Reddening the sea around ; and all was dark. 
 
 But the Gods went by starlight up the 
 shore 
 To Asgard, and sate down in Odin's hall 
 At table, and the funeral feast began. 
 All night they ate the boar Serimner's flesh, 
 
BALDER DEAD. 53 
 
 And from their horns, with silver rimm'cl, drank mead ? 
 Silent, and waited for the sacred Morn. 
 
 And Morning over all the world was spread. 
 Then from their loathed feast the Gods arose, 
 And took their horses, and set forth to ride 
 O'er the bridge Bifrost, where is Heimdall's watch, 
 To the ash Igdrasil, and Ida's plain : 
 Thor came on foot ; the rest on horseback rode. 
 And they found Mimir sitting by his Fount 
 Of Wisdom, which beneath the ashtree springs ; 
 And saw the Nornies watering the roots 
 Of that world-shadowing tree with Honey-dew : 
 There came the Gods, and sate them down on stones : 
 And thus the Father of the Ages said : — 
 
 " Ye Gods, the terms ye know, which Hermod 
 brought. 
 Accept them or reject them; both have grounds. 
 Accept them, and they bind us, unfulfill'd, 
 e 3 
 
54 BALDER DEAD. 
 
 To leave for ever Balder in the grave, 
 
 An unrecover d prisoner, shade with shades. 
 
 But how, ye say, should the fulfilment fail ? — 
 
 Smooth sound the terms, and light to be fulfill'd ; 
 
 For dear-belov'd was Balder while he liv'd 
 
 In Heaven and Earth, and who would grudge him 
 
 tears ? 
 But from the traitorous seed of Lok they come, 
 These terms, and I suspect some hidden fraud. 
 Bethink ye, Gods, is there no other way? — 
 Speak, were not this a way, the way for Gods ? 
 If I, if Odin, clad in radiant arms, 
 Mounted on Sleipner, with the Warrior Thor 
 Drawn in his car beside me, and my sons, 
 All the strong brood of Heaven, to swell my train, 
 Should make irruption into Hela's realm, 
 And set the fields of gloom ablaze with light, 
 And bring in triumph Balder back to Heaven ? " 
 
 He spake ; and his fierce sons applauded loud. 
 
BALDER DEAD. 55 
 
 But Frea, Mother of the Gods, arose, 
 Daughter and wife of Odin : thus she said : — 
 
 " Odin, thou Whirlwind, what a threat is this ! 
 Thou threatenest what transcends thy might, even 
 
 thine. 
 For of all Powers the mightiest far art thou, 
 Lord over men on Earth, and Gods in Heaven ; 
 Yet even from thee thyself hath been withheld 
 One thing ; to undo what thou thyself hast rul'd. 
 For all which hath been fixt, was fixt by thee : 
 In the beginning, ere the Gods were born, 
 Before the Heavens were builded, thou didst slay 
 The Giant Ymir, whom the Abyss brought forth, 
 Thou and thy brethren fierce, the SonsofBor, 
 And threw his trunk to choke the abysmal void : 
 But of his flesh and members thou didst build 
 The Earth and Ocean, and above them Heaven : 
 And from the flaming world, where Muspel reigns, 
 Thou scnt'st and fetched'st fire, and madest lights, 
 e 4 
 
.56 F.ALDER DEAD. 
 
 Sun Moon and Stars, which thou hast hung in Heaven, 
 
 Dividing clear the paths of night and day : 
 
 And Asgard thou didst build, and Midgard Fort : 
 
 Then me thou mad'st ; of us the Gods were born : 
 
 Then, walking by the sea, thou foundest spars 
 
 Of wood, and framed'st men, who till the earth, 
 
 Or on the sea, the field of pirates, sail : 
 
 And all the race of Ymir thou didst drown, 
 
 Save one, Bergelmer ; he on shipboard fled 
 
 Thy deluge, and from him the Giants sprang ; 
 
 But all that brood thou hast remov'd far off, 
 
 And set by Ocean's utmost marge to dwell : 
 
 But Hela into Niflheim thou threw'st, 
 
 And gav'st her nine unlighted worlds to rule, 
 
 A Queen, and empire over all the dead. 
 
 That empire wilt thou now invade, light up 
 
 Her darkness, from her grasp a subject tear ? — 
 
 Try it ; but I, for one, will not applaud. 
 
 Nor do I merit, Odin, thou should'st slight 
 
 Me and my words, though thou be first in Heaven : 
 
BALDER DEAD. .)7 
 
 For I too am a Goddess, born of thee, 
 Thine eldest, and of me the Gods are sprung ; 
 And all that is to come I know, but lock 
 In my own breast, and have to none reveal'd. 
 Come then ; since Hela holds by right her prey, 
 But offers terms for his release to Heaven, 
 Accept the chance ; — thou canst no more obtain. 
 Send through the world thy messengers : entreat 
 All living and unliving things to weep 
 For Balder ; if thou haply thus may'st melt 
 Hela, and win the lov'd one back to Heaven." 
 
 She spake, and on her face let fall her veil, 
 And bow'd her head, and sate with folded hands. 
 Nor did the all-ruling Odin slight her word ; 
 Straightway he spake, and thus address'd the Gods : 
 
 " Go quickly forth through all the world, and pray 
 All living and unliving things to weep 
 Balder, if haply he may thus be won." 
 
58 T.ALDER DEAD. 
 
 When the Gods heard, they straight arose, and 
 took 
 Their horses, and rode forth through all the world. 
 North south east west they struck, and roam'd the 
 
 world, 
 Entreating all things to weep Balder's death : 
 And all that liv'd, and all without life, wept. 
 And as in winter, when the frost breaks up, 
 At winter's end, before the spring begins, 
 And a warm west wind blows, and thaw sets in — 
 After an hour a dripping sound is heard 
 In all the forests, and the soft-strewn snow 
 Under the trees is dibbled thick with holes, 
 And from the boughs the snowloads shuffle down ; 
 And in fields sloping to the south dark plots 
 Of grass peep out amid surrounding snow, 
 And widen, and the peasant's heart is glad — 
 So through the world was heard a dripping noiie 
 Of all things weeping to bring Balder back : 
 And there fell joy upon the Gods to hear. 
 
BALDER DEAD. 59 
 
 But Hermod rode with Niord, whom he took 
 To shew him spits and beaches of the sea 
 Far off, where some unwarn'd might fail to weep — 
 Niord, the God of storms, whom fishers know : 
 Not born in Heaven ; he was in Vanheim rear'd, 
 With men, but lives a hostage with the Gods : 
 He knows each frith, and every rocky creek 
 Fring'd with dark pines, and sands where seafowl 
 
 scream : — 
 They two scour'd every coast, and all things wept. 
 And they rode home together, through the wood 
 Of Jarnvid, which to east of Midgard lies 
 Bordering the Giants, where the trees are iron ; 
 There in the wood before a cave they came 
 Where sate, in the cave's mouth, a skinny Hag, 
 Toothless and old ; she gibes the passers by : 
 Thok is she call'd ; but now Lok wore her shape : 
 She greeted them the first, and laugh'd, and said : — 
 
 " Ye Gods, good lack, is it so dull in Heaven, 
 
60 BALDER DEAD. 
 
 That ye come pleasuring to Thok's Iron Wood ? 
 
 Lovers of change ye are, fastidious sprites. 
 
 Look, as in some boor's yard a sweet-breath'd cow 
 
 Whose manger is stuff'd full of good fresh hay 
 
 Snuffs at it daintily, and stoops her head 
 
 To chew the straw, her litter, at her feet — 
 
 So ye grow squeamish, Gods, and sniff at Heaven." 
 
 She spake ; but Hermod answer'd her and 
 said: — 
 " Thok, not for gibes we come, we come for tears. 
 Balder is dead, and Hela holds her prey, 
 But will restore, if all things give him tears. 
 Begrudge not thine ; to all was Balder dear." 
 
 But, with a louder laugh, the Hag replied : — 
 " Is Balder dead ? and do ye come for tears ? 
 Thok with dry eyes will weep o'er Balder's pyre. 
 Weep him all other things, if weep they will — 
 I weep him not : let Hela keep her prey ! " 
 
BALDER DEAD. 61 
 
 She spake ; and to the cavern's depth she 
 fled, 
 Mocking : and Hermod knew their toil was vain. 
 And as seafaring men, who long have wrought 
 In the great deep for gain, at last come home, 
 And towards evening see the headlands rise 
 Of their own country, and can clear descry 
 A fire of wither'd furze which boys have lit 
 Upon the cliiFs, or smoke of burning weeds 
 Out of a till'd field inland : — then the wind 
 Catches them, and drives out again to sea : 
 And they go long days tossing up and down 
 Over the grey sea ridges ; and the glimpse 
 Of port they had makes bitterer far their toil — 
 So the Gods' cross was bitterer for their joy. 
 
 Then, sad at heart, to Niord Hermod spake : — 
 " It is the Accuser Lok, who flouts us all. 
 Ride back, and tell in Heaven this heavy news. 
 I must again below, to Hela's realm." 
 
62 BALDER DEAD. 
 
 He spoke ; and Niord set forth back to Heaven. 
 But northward Hermod rode, the way below ; 
 The way he knew : and travers'd Giall's stream, 
 And down to Ocean grop'd, and cross'd the ice, 
 And came beneath the wall, and found the grate 
 Still lifted ; well was his return foreknown. 
 And once more Hermod saw around him spread 
 The joyless plains, and heard the streams of Hell. 
 But as he enter'd, on the extremest bound 
 Of Niflheim, he saw one Ghost come near, 
 Hovering, and stopping oft, as if afraid ; 
 Hoder, the unhappy, whom his own hand slew : 
 And Hermod look'd, and knew his brother's ghost, 
 And call'd him by his name, and sternly said : — 
 
 " Hoder, ill-fated, blind in heart and eyes ! 
 Why tarriest thou to plunge thee in the gulph 
 Of the deep inner gloom, but flittest here, 
 In twilight, on the lonely verge of Hell, 
 Far from the other ghosts, and Hela's throne ? 
 
BALDER DEAD. 63 
 
 Doubtless thou fearest to meet Balder's voice, 
 Thy brother, whom through folly thou didst slay." 
 
 He spoke ; but Hoder answer'd him and said : — 
 " Hermod the nimble, dost thou still pursue 
 The unhappy with reproach, even in the grave ? 
 For this I died, and fled beneath the gloom, 
 Not daily to endure abhorring Gods, 
 Nor with a hateful presence cumber Heaven — 
 And canst thou not, even here, pass pitying by ? 
 No less than Balder have I lost the light 
 Of Heaven, and communion with my kin : 
 I too had once a wife, and once a child, 
 And substance, and a golden house in Heaven : 
 But all I left of my own act, and fled 
 Below, and dost thou hate me even here ? 
 Balder upbraids me not, nor hates at all, 
 Though he has cause, have any cause ; but he, 
 When that with downcast looks I hither came, 
 Stretch'd forth his hand, and, with benignant voice, 
 
64 BALDER DEAD. 
 
 Welcome, he said, if there be ivelcome here, 
 
 Brother and fellow-sport of Lok with me 
 
 And not to offend thee, Hermod, nor to force 
 
 My hated converse on thee, came I up 
 
 From the deep gloom, where I will now return ; 
 
 But earnestly I long'd to hover near, 
 
 Not too far off, when that thou earnest by, 
 
 To feel the presence of a brother God, 
 
 And hear the passage of a horse of Heaven, 
 
 For the last time : for here thou com'st no more." 
 
 He spake, and turn'd to go to the inner gloom. 
 But Hermod stay'd him with mild words, and said : - 
 
 " Thou doest well to chide me, Hoder blind. 
 Truly thou say'st, the planning guilty mind 
 Was Lok's ; the unwitting hand alone was thine. 
 But Gods are like the sons of men in this — 
 When they have woe, they blame the nearest cause. 
 Howbeit stay, and be appeas'd ; and tell — 
 
BALDER DEAD. 65 
 
 Sits Balder still in pomp by Hela's side, 
 
 Or is he mingled with the unnumber'd dead ? " 
 
 And the blind Hoder answer'd him and 
 spake : — 
 " His place of state remains by Hela's side, 
 But empty : for his wife, for Nanna came 
 Lately below, and join'd him ; and the Pair 
 Frequent the still recesses of the realm 
 Of Hela, and hold converse undisturb'd. 
 But they too doubtless, will have breath'd the halm 
 Which floats before a visitant from Heaven, 
 And have drawn upwards to this verge of Hell." 
 
 He spake ; and, as he ceas'd, a puff of wind 
 Roll'd heavily the leaden mist aside 
 Round where they stood, and they beheld Two Forms. 
 Make towards them o'er the stretching cloudy plain. 
 And Hermod straight perceiv'd them, who they were, 
 Balder and Nanna ; and to Balder said : — 
 
 F 
 
66 BALDER DEAD. 
 
 " Balder, too truly thou foresaw'st a snare. 
 Lok triumphs still, and Hela keeps her prey. 
 No more to Asgard shalt thou come, nor lodge 
 In thy own house, Breidablik, nor enjoy 
 The love all bear towards thee, nor train up 
 Forset, thy son, to be belov'd like thee. 
 Here must thou lie, and wait an endless age. 
 Therefore for the last time, O Balder, hail ! " 
 
 He spake; and Balder answer'd him and said : — 
 " Hail and farewell, for here thou com'st no more. 
 Yet mourn not for me, Hermod, when thou sitt'st 
 In Heaven, nor let the other Gods lament, 
 As wholly to be pitied, quite forlorn : 
 For Nanna hath rejoin'd me, who, of old, 
 In Heaven, was seldom parted from my side ; 
 And still the acceptance follows me, which crown'd 
 My former life, and cheers me even here. 
 The iron frown of Hela is relax'd 
 When I draw nigh, and the wan tribes of dead 
 
BALDER DEAD. 67 
 
 Trust me, and gladly bring for my award 
 Their ineffectual feuds and feeble hates, 
 ►Shadows of hates, but they distress them still." 
 
 And the fleet-footed Hermod made reply : — 
 " Thou hast then all the solace death allows, 
 Esteem and function : and so far is well. 
 Yet here thou liest, Balder, underground, 
 Rusting for ever : and the years roll on, 
 The generations pass, the ages grow, M 
 And bring us nearer to the final day 
 When from the south shall march the Fiery Band 
 And cross the Bridge of Heaven, with Lok for 
 
 guide, 
 And Fenris at his heel with broken chain : 
 While from the east the Giant Rymer steers 
 His ship, and the great Serpent makes to land ; 
 And all are marshall'd in one flaming square 
 Against the Gods, upon the plains of Heaven. 
 I mourn thee, that thou canst not help us then." 
 f 2 
 
68 BALDER DEAD. 
 
 He spake ; but Balder answer'd him and said : — 
 " Mourn not for me : Mourn, Hermod, for the Gods : 
 Mourn for the men on Earth, the Gods in Heaven, 
 Who live, and with their eyes shall see that day. 
 The day will come, when Asgard's towers shall fall, 
 And Odin, and his Sons, the seed of Heaven : 
 But what were I, to save them in that hour ? 
 If strength could save them, could not Odin save, 
 My Father, and his pride, the Warrior Thor, 
 Vidar the Silent, the Impetuous Tyr ? 
 I, what were I, when these can nought avail ? 
 Yet, doubtless, when the day of battle comes, 
 And the two Hosts are marshall'd, and in Heaven 
 The golden-crested Cock shall sound alarm, 
 And his black Brother-Bird from hence reply, 
 And bucklers clash, and spears begin to pour — 
 Longing will stir within my breast, though vain. 
 But not to me so grievous, as, I know, 
 To other Gods it were, is my enforc'd 
 Absence from fields where I could nothing aid : 
 
BALDER DEAD. 69 
 
 For I am long since weary of your storm 
 
 Of carnage, and find, Hermod, in your life 
 
 Something too much of war and broils, which make 
 
 Life one perpetual fight, a bath of blood. 
 
 Mine eyes are dizzy with the arrowy hail ; 
 
 Mine ears are stunn'd with blows, and sick for calm. 
 
 Inactive therefore let me lie, in gloom, 
 
 Unarm'd, inglorious : I attend the course 
 
 Of ages, and my late return to light, 
 
 In times less alien to a spirit mild, 
 
 In new-recover'd seats, the happier day." 
 
 He spake ; and the fleet Hermod thus replied : — 
 " Brother, what seats are these, what happier day ? 
 Tell me, that I may ponder it when gone. " 
 
 And the ray-crowned Balder answer'd him : — 
 " Far to the south, beyond The Blue, there spreads 
 Another Heaven, The Boundless : no one yet 
 Hath reach'd it : there hereafter shall arise 
 f 3 
 
70 BALDER DEAD. 
 
 The second Asgard, with another name. 
 
 Thither, when o'er this present Earth and Heavens 
 
 The tempest of the latter days hath swept, 
 
 And they from sight have disappear'd, and sunk, 
 
 Shall a small remnant of the Gods repair : 
 
 Hoder and I shall join them from the grave. 
 
 There reassembling we shall see emerge 
 
 From the bright Ocean at our feet an Earth 
 
 More fresh, more verdant than the last, with fruits 
 
 Self-springing, and a seed of man preserv'd, 
 
 Who then shall live in peace, as now in war. 
 
 But we in Heaven shall find again with joy 
 
 The ruin'd palaces of Odin, seats 
 
 Familiar, halls where we have supp'd of old ; 
 
 Reenter them with wonder, never fill 
 
 Our eyes with gazing, and rebuild with tears. 
 
 And we shall tread once more the well-known plain 
 
 Of Ida, and among the grass shall find 
 
 The golden dice with which we play'd of yore ; 
 
 And that will bring to mind the former life 
 
BALDER DEAD. 71 
 
 And pastime of the Gods, the wise discourse 
 Of Odin, the delights of other days. 
 
 Hermod, pray that thou mayst join us then ! 
 Such for the future is my hope : meanwhile, 
 
 1 rest the thrall of Hela, and endure 
 
 Death, and the gloom which round me even now 
 Thickens, and to its inner gulph recalls. 
 Farewell, for longer speech is not allow'd." 
 
 He spoke, and wav'd farewell, and gave his hand 
 To Nanna ; and she gave their brother blind 
 Her hand, in turn, for guidance ; and The Three 
 Departed o'er the cloudy plain, and soon 
 Faded from sight into the interior gloom. 
 But Hermod stood beside his drooping horse, 
 Mute, gazing after them in tears : and fain, 
 Fain had he follow'd their receding steps, 
 Though they to Death were bound, and he to Heaven. 
 Then ; but a Power he could not break withheld. 
 And as a stork which idle boys have trapp'd, 
 f 4 
 
72 BALDER DEAD. 
 
 And tied him in a yard, at autumn sees 
 Flocks of his kind pass flying o'er his head 
 To warmer lands, and coasts that keep the sun ; 
 He strains to join their flight, and, from his shed, 
 Follows them with a long complaining cry — 
 So Hermod gaz'd, and yearn'd to join his kin. 
 
 At last he sigh'd, and set forth back to Heaven. 
 
THE SICK KING IN BOKHAEA. 
 
75 
 
 THE SICK KING IN BOKIIAKA. 
 
 Hussein. 
 most just Vizier, send away 
 The cloth-merchants, and let them be, 
 Them and their dues, this day : the King 
 Is ill at ease, and calls for thee. 
 
 The Vizier. 
 O merchants, tarry yet a day 
 Here in Bokhara : but at noon 
 To-morrow, come, and ye shall pay 
 Each fortieth web of cloth to me, 
 As the law is, and go your way. 
 
 O Hussein, lead me to the King. 
 Thou teller of sweet tales, thine own, 
 
76 THE SICK KING IN BOKHARA. 
 
 Ferdousi's, and the others', lead. 
 How is it with nay lord ? 
 
 Hussein. 
 
 Alone, 
 Ever since prayer-time, he doth wait, 
 Vizier, without lying down, 
 In the great window of the gate, 
 Looking into the Registan ; 
 Where through the sellers' booths the slaves 
 Are this way bringing the dead man. 
 Vizier, here is the King's door. 
 
 The King. 
 O Vizier, I may bury him ? 
 
 The Vizier. 
 O King, thou know'st, I have been sick 
 These many days, and heard no thing, 
 
THE SICK KING IN BOKHARA. 77 
 
 (For Allah shut my ears and mind) 
 Not even what thou dost, King. 
 Wherefore, that I may counsel thee, 
 Let Hussein, if thou wilt, make haste 
 To speak in order what hath chanc'd. 
 
 The King. 
 O Vizier, be it as thou say'st. 
 
 Hussein. 
 Three days since, at the time of prayer, 
 A certain Moollah, with his robe 
 All rent, and dust upon his hair, 
 Watch'd my lord's coming forth, and push'd 
 The golden mace-bearers aside, 
 And fell at the King's feet, and cried ; 
 
 "Justice, King, and on myself! 
 On this great sinner, who hath broke 
 
78 THE SICK KING IN BOKHARA. 
 
 The law, and by the law must die ! 
 Vengeance, O King ! " 
 
 But the King spoke : 
 " What fool is this, that hurts our ears 
 With folly ? or what drunken slave ? 
 My guards, what, prick him with your spears ! 
 Prick me the fellow from the path ! " 
 As the King said, so was it done, 
 And to the mosque my lord pass'd on. 
 
 Bat on the morrow, when the King 
 Went forth again, the holy book 
 Carried before him, as is right, 
 And through the square his path he took ; 
 
 My man comes running, fleck'd with blood 
 From yesterday, and falling down 
 Cries out most earnestly ; " O King, 
 My lord, O King, do right, I pray ! 
 
THE SICK KING IN BOKHARA. 79 
 
 " How canst thou, ere thou hear, discern 
 If I speak folly ? but a king, 
 Whether a thing be great or small, 
 Like Allah, hears and judges all. 
 
 " Wherefore hear thou ! Thou know'st, how fierce 
 In these last days the sun hath burn'd : 
 That the green water in the tanks 
 Is to a putrid puddle turn'd : 
 And the canal, that from the stream 
 Of Samarcand is brought this way, 
 Wastes, and runs thinner every day. 
 
 " Now I at nightfall had gone forth 
 Alone, and in a darksome place 
 Under some mulberry trees I found 
 A little pool ; and in brief space 
 With all the water that was there 
 I fill'd my pitcher, and stole home 
 Unseen : and having drink to spare, 
 
80 THE SICK KING IN BOKHARA. 
 
 I hid the can behind the door. 
 And went up on the roof to sleep. 
 
 " But in the night, which was with wind 
 And burning dust, again I creep 
 Down, having fever, for a drink. 
 
 " Now meanwhile had my brethren found 
 The water-pitcher, where it stood 
 Behind the door upon the ground, 
 And call'd my mother : and they all, 
 As they were thirsty, and the night 
 Most sultry, drain'd the pitcher there ; 
 That they sate with it, in my sight, 
 Their lips still wet, when I came down. 
 
 " Now mark ! I, being fever'd, sick, 
 (Most unblest also) at that sight 
 Brake forth, and curs'd them — dost thou hear ? 
 One was my mother Now, do right ! " 
 
THE SICK KING LN BOKHARA. 81 
 
 But my lord mus'd a space, and said 
 " Send him away, Sirs, and make on. 
 It is some madman," the King said : 
 As the King said, so was it done. 
 
 The morrow at the self-same hour 
 In the King's path, behold, the man, 
 Not kneeling, sternly fix'd : he stood 
 Right opposite, and thus began, 
 Frowning grim down : — " Thou wicked King, 
 Most deaf where thou shouldst most give ear ! 
 What, must I howl in the next world, 
 Because thou wilt not listen here ? 
 
 " What, wilt thou pray, and get thee grace, 
 And all grace shall to me be grudg'd ? 
 Nay but, I swear, from this thy path 
 I will not stir till I be judg'd." 
 
 Then they who stood about the King 
 Drew close together and conferr'd : 
 
 G 
 
THE SICK KLNG IN BOKHARA. 
 
 Till that the King stood forth and said, 
 " Before the priests thou shalt be heard." 
 
 But when the Ulemas were met 
 And the thing heard, they doubted not ; 
 But sentenc'd him, as the law is, 
 To die by stoning on the spot. 
 
 Now the King charg'd us secretly : 
 " Ston'd must he be, the law stands so : 
 Yet, if he seek to fly, give way : 
 Forbid him not, but let him go." 
 
 So saying, the King took a stone, 
 And cast it softly : but the man, 
 With a great joy upon his face, 
 Kneel'd down, and cried not, neither ran. 
 
 So they, whose lot it was, cast stones ; 
 That they flew thick and bruis'd him sore : 
 
THE SICK KING W BOKHARA. 83 
 
 But he prais'd Allah with loud voice, 
 And remain'd kneeling as before. 
 
 My lord had cover'd up his face : 
 But when one told him, " He is dead," 
 Turning him quickly to go in, 
 " Bring thou to me his corpse," he said. 
 
 And truly, while I speak, O King, 
 I hear the bearers on the stair. 
 Wilt thou they straightway bring him in ? 
 — Ho ! enter ye who tarry there ! 
 
 The Vizier. 
 O King, in this I praise thee not. 
 Now must I call thy grief not wise. 
 Is he thy friend, or of thy blood, 
 To find such favour in thine eyes ? 
 
 Nay, were he thine own mother's son. 
 Still, thou art king, and the Law stands, 
 o 2 
 
84 THE SICK KING IN BOKHARA. 
 
 It were not meet the balance swerv'd, 
 The sword were broken in thy hands. 
 
 But being nothing, as he is, 
 Why for no cause make sad thy face ? 
 Lo, I am old : three kings, ere thee, 
 Have I seen reigning in this place. 
 
 But who, through all this length of time, 
 Could bear the burden of his years, 
 If he for strangers pain'd his heart 
 Not less than those who merit tears ? 
 
 Fathers we must have, wife and child ; 
 And grievous is the grief for these : 
 This pain alone, which must be borne, 
 Makes the head white, and bows the knees. 
 
 But other loads than this his own 
 One man is not well made to bear. 
 
THE SICK KING IN BOKHARA. 85 
 
 Besides, to each are his own friends, 
 To mourn with him, and shew him care. 
 
 Look, this is but one single place, 
 Though it be great : all the earth round, 
 If a man bear to have it so, 
 Things which might vex him shall be found. 
 
 Upon the Russian frontier, where 
 The watchers of two armies stand 
 Near one another, many a man, 
 Seeking a prey unto his hand, 
 
 Hath snatch'd a little fair-hair'd slave : 
 They snatch also, towards Merve, 
 The Shiah dogs, who pasture sheep, 
 And up from thence to Orgunje. 
 
 And these all, labouring for a lord, 
 Eat not the fruit of their own hands : 
 g 3 
 
86 THE SICK KING IN BOKHARA. 
 
 Which is the heaviest of all plagues, 
 To that man's mind, who understands. 
 
 The kaffirs also (whom God curse !) 
 Vex one another, night and day : 
 There are the lepers, and all sick : 
 There are the poor, who faint alway. 
 
 All these have sorrow, and keep still, 
 Whilst other men make cheer, and sing. 
 Wilt thou have pity on all these ? 
 No, nor on this dead dog, King ! 
 
 The King. 
 O Vizier, thou art old, I young. 
 Clear in these things I cannot see. 
 My head is burning ; and a heat 
 Is in my skin which angers me. 
 
 But hear ye this, ye sons of men ! 
 They that bear rule, and are obey'd, 
 
THE SICK KING IN BOKHARA. 87 
 
 Unto a rule more strong than theirs 
 Are in their turn obedient made. 
 
 In vain therefore, with wistful eyes 
 Gazing up hither, the poor man, 
 Who loiters by the high-heap'd booths, 
 Below there, in the Registan, 
 
 Says, " Happy he, who lodges there ! 
 With silken raiment, store of rice, 
 And for this drought, all kinds of fruits, 
 Grape syrup, squares of colour'd ice, 
 
 " With cherries serv'd in drifts of snow." 
 In vain hath a king power to build 
 Houses, arcades, enamell'd mosques ; 
 And to make orchard closes, fill'd 
 
 With curious fruit trees, bought from far ; 
 With cisterns for the winter rain ; 
 
88 THE SICK KING IN BOKHARA. 
 
 And in the desert, spacious inns 
 In divers places ; — if that pain 
 
 Is not more lighten'd, which he feels, 
 If his will be not satisfied : 
 And that it be not, from all time 
 The Law is planted, to, abide. 
 
 Thou wert a sinner, thou poor man ! 
 Thou wert athirst ; and didst not see, 
 That, though we snatch what we desire, 
 We must not snatch it eagerly. 
 
 And I have meat and drink at will, 
 And rooms of treasures, not a few. 
 But I am sick, nor heed I these : 
 And what I would, I cannot do. 
 
 Even the great honour which I have, 
 When I am dead, will soon grow still. 
 
THE SICK KING IN BOKHARA. 89 
 
 So have I neither joy, nor fame. 
 But what I can do, that I will. 
 
 I have a fretted brick-work tomb 
 Upon a hill on the right hand, 
 Hard by a close of apricots, 
 Upon the road of Samarcand : 
 
 Thither, Vizier, will I bear 
 This man my pity could not save ; 
 And, plucking up the marble flags, 
 There lay his body in my grave. 
 
 Bring water, nard, and linen rolls. 
 Wash off all blood, set smooth each limb. 
 Then say ; " He was not wholly vile, 
 Because a king shall bury him." 
 
THE HARP-PLAYER ON ETNA. 
 
92 
 
 THE HAEP-PLAYER ON ETNA. 
 I. 
 
 THE LAST GLEN. 
 
 The track winds down to the clear stream, 
 To cross the sparkling shallows : there 
 The cattle love to gather, on their way 
 To the high mountain pastures, and to stay, 
 Till the rough cow-herds drive them past, 
 Knee-deep in the cool ford : for 'tis the last 
 Of all the woody, high, well-water'd dells 
 On Etna ; and the beam 
 Of noon is broken there by chesnut boughs 
 Down its steep verdant sides : the air 
 Is freshen'd by the leaping stream, which throws 
 
THE HARP-PLAYER ON ETNA. < 
 
 Eternal showers of spray on the moss'd roots 
 Of trees, and veins of turf, and long dark shoots 
 Of ivy-plants, and fragrant hanging bells 
 Of hyacinths, and on late anemones, 
 That muffle its wet banks : but glade, 
 And stream, and sward, and chesnut trees, 
 End here : Etna beyond, in the broad glare 
 Of the hot noon, without a shade, 
 Slope behind slope, up to the peak, lies bare ; 
 
 The peak, round which the white clouds play. 
 
 In such a glen, on such a day, 
 On Pelion, on the grassy ground, 
 Chiron, the aged Centaur, lay ; 
 The young Achilles standing by. 
 The Centaur taught him to explore 
 The mountains : where the glens are dry, 
 And the tir'd Centaurs come to rest, 
 And where the soaking springs abound, 
 And the straight ashes grow for spears, 
 
94 THE HAEP-PLAYER ON ETNA. 
 
 And where the hill-goats come to feed, 
 And the sea-eagles build their nest. 
 He show'd him Phthia far away, 
 And said — Boy, I taught this lore 
 To Peleus, in long^distant years. — 
 He told him of the Gods, the stars, 
 The tides : — and then of mortal wars. 
 And of the life that Heroes lead 
 Before they reach the Elysian place 
 And rest in the immortal mead : 
 
 And all the wisdom of his race. 
 
THE HAKP-PLAYER ON ETNA. 95 
 
 II. 
 
 TYPHO. 
 
 The lyre's voice is lc-veiy everywhere. 
 In the court of Gods, in the city of men, 
 And in the lonely rock-strewn mountain glen, 
 In the still mountain air. 
 
 Only to Typho it sounds hatefully. 
 Only to Typho, the rebel o'erthrown, 
 Through whose heart Etna drives her roots of stone, 
 To imbed them in the sea. 
 
 Wherefore dost thou groan so loud ? 
 Wherefore do thy nostrils flash, 
 Through the dark night, suddenly, 
 Typho, such red jets of flame ? 
 Is thy tortur'd heart still proud ? 
 Is thy fire-scath'd arm still rash? 
 Still alert thy stone-crush'd frame ? 
 
96 THE HARP-PLAYER ON ETNA. 
 
 Does thy fierce soul still deplore 
 Thy ancient rout in the Cilician hills, 
 And that curst treachery on the Mount of Gore ? 
 
 Do thy bloodshot eyes still see 
 The fight that crown'd thy ills, 
 Thy last defeat in this Sicilian sea ? 
 Hast thou sworn, in thy sad lair, 
 Where erst the strong sea-currents suck'd thee 
 
 down 
 Never to cease to writhe, and try to sleep, 
 Letting the sea-stream wander through thy hair ? 
 That thy groans, like thunder deep, 
 Begin to roll, and almost drown 
 The sweet notes, whose lulling spell 
 Gods and the race of mortals love so well, 
 
 When through thy caves thou hearest music 
 swell ? 
 
 But an awful pleasure bland 
 Spreading o'er the Thunderer's face, 
 
THE HARP-PLAYER ON ETNA. 9 
 
 When the sound climbs near his seat, 
 The Olympian Council sees ; 
 As he lets his lax right hand, 
 Which the lightnings doth embrace, 
 Sink upon his mighty knees. 
 
 And the Eagle, at the beck 
 Of the appeasing gracious harmony, 
 Droops all his sheeny, brown, deep-feather'd neck, 
 Nestling nearer to Jove's feet ; 
 While o'er his sovereign eye 
 The curtains of the blue films slowly meet. 
 
 And the white Olympus peaks 
 Rosily brighten, and the sooth'd Gods smile 
 At one another from their golden chairs ; 
 And no one round the charmed circle speaks. 
 
 Only the lov'd Hebe bears 
 The cup about, whose draughts beguile 
 Pain and care, with a dark store 
 Of fresh-pull'd violets wreath'd and nodding o'er ; 
 
 And her flush'd feet glow on the marble floor. 
 
 H 
 
98 THE HARP-PLAYER OX ETXA. 
 
 III. 
 
 MARSYAS. 
 
 As the sky-brightening South-wind clears the 
 day, 
 And makes the mass'd clouds roll, 
 The music of the lyre blows away 
 The clouds that wrap the soul. 
 
 Oh that Fate had let me see 
 That triumph of the sweet persuasive lyre, 
 That famous, final victory, 
 When jealous Pan with Marsyas did conspire ; 
 
 When, from far Parnassus' side, 
 Young Apollo, all the pride 
 Of the Phrygian flutes to tame, 
 To the Phrygian highlands came : 
 
TIIE HARP-PLAYER ON ETNA. 
 
 Where the long green reed-beds sway 
 
 In the rippled waters grey 
 
 Of that solitary lake 
 
 Where Mceander's springs are born : 
 
 Whence the ridg'd pine-muffled roots 
 
 Of Messogis westward break. 
 
 Mounting westward, high and higher : 
 
 There was held the famous strife ; 
 There the Phrygian brought his flutes, 
 And Apollo brought his lyre, 
 And, when now the westering sun 
 Touch'd the hills, the strife was done, 
 And the attentive Muses said, 
 Marsyas ! thou art vanquished. 
 
 Then Apollo's minister 
 Hang'd upon a branching fir 
 Marsyas, that unhappy faun, 
 And began to whet his knife. 
 But the Maenads, who were there, 
 Left their friend, and with robes flowing 
 h 2 
 
100 THE HARr-PLAYER ON ETNA. 
 
 In the wind, and loose dark hair 
 O'er their polish'd bosoms blowing, 
 Each her ribbon'd tambourine 
 Flinging on the mountain sod, 
 With a lovely frighten'd mien 
 Came about the youthful God. 
 But he turn'd his beauteous face 
 Haughtily another way, 
 From the grassy sun-warm'd place, 
 Where in proud repose he lay, 
 With one arm over his head, 
 Watching how the whetting sped. 
 
 But aloof, on the lake strand, 
 Did the young Olympus stand, 
 Weeping at his master's end ; 
 For the Faun had been his friend. 
 
 For he taught him how to sing, 
 And he taught him flute-playing. 
 Many a morning had they gone 
 
THE HARP-PLAYER ON ETNA. 101 
 
 To the glimmering mountain lakes, 
 
 And had torn up by the roots 
 
 The tall crested water reeds 
 
 With long plumes and soft brown seeds, 
 
 And had carv'd them into flutes, 
 
 Sitting on a tabled stone 
 
 Where the shoreward ripple breaks. 
 
 And he taught him how to please 
 The red-snooded Phrygian girls, 
 Whom the summer evening sees 
 Flashing in the dance's whirls 
 Underneath the starlit trees 
 In the mountain villages. 
 
 Therefore now Olympus stands, 
 At his master's piteous cries, 
 Pressing fast with both his hands 
 His white garment to his eyes, 
 Not to see Apollo's scorn. 
 
 Ah, poor Faun, poor Faun ah, poor 
 Faun! 
 
 h 3 
 
102 THE HARr-rLAYER ON ETNA. 
 
 IV. 
 
 APOLLO. 
 
 Through the black, rushing smoke-bursts, 
 Quick breaks the red flame ; 
 All Etna heaves fiercely 
 Her forest- cloth'cl frame : 
 
 Not here, O Apollo ! 
 Are haunts meet for thee. 
 But, where Helicon breaks down 
 In cliff to the sea, 
 
 Where the moon-silver'd inlets 
 Send far their light voice 
 Up the still vale of Thisbe, 
 O speed, and rejoice ! 
 
 On the sward, at the cliff-top, 
 Lie strewn the white flocks ; 
 
THE HARP-PLAYER ON ETNA. 103 
 
 On the cliff-side the pigeons 
 Roost deep in the rocks. 
 
 In the moonlight the shepherd?, 
 Soft-lull'd by the rills, 
 Lie wrapt in their blankets, 
 Asleep on the hills. 
 
 — What Forms are these coming 
 So white through the gloom? 
 What garments out-glistening 
 The gold-flower d broom ? 
 
 JVJiat sweet-breathing Presence 
 Out-perfumes the thyme ? 
 JVhat voices enrapture 
 The nights balmy prime ? — 
 
 'Tis Apollo comes leading 
 His choir, The Xine. 
 n 4 
 
104 THE HARP-PLAYER ON ETNA. 
 
 — The Leader is fairest, 
 But all are divine. 
 
 They are lost in the hollows. 
 They stream up again. 
 What seeks on this mountain 
 The glorified train ? — 
 
 They bathe on this mountain, 
 In the spring by their road. 
 Then on to Olympus, 
 Their endless abode. 
 
 — Wliose praise do they mention ? 
 Of what is it told ? — 
 What will be for ever. 
 What was from of old. 
 
 First hymn they the Father 
 Of all things : and then 
 
THE HARP-PLAYER ON ETNA. 105 
 
 The rest of Immortals, 
 The action of men. 
 
 The Day in its hotness, 
 The strife with the palm ; 
 The Night in its silence, 
 The Stars in their calm. 
 
FRAGMENT OF AN "ANTIGONE.". 
 
108 
 
 FRAGMENT OF AN "ANTIGONE." 
 
 The Chorus. 
 
 Well hath he done who hath seiz'd happiness. 
 For little do the all-containing Hours, 
 Though opulent, freely give. 
 
 Who, weighing that life well 
 
 Fortune presents unpray'd, 
 Declines her ministry, and carves his own : 
 
 And, justice not infringed, 
 Makes his own welfare his unswerv'd-from law. 
 
 He does well too, who keeps that clue the mild 
 Birth-Goddess and the austere Fates first gave. 
 For from the day when these 
 Bring him, a weeping child, 
 
FRAGMENT OF AX "ANTIGONE." 109 
 
 First to the light, and mark 
 A country for him, kinsfolk, and a home, 
 
 Unguided he remains, 
 Till the Fates come again, alone, with death. 
 
 In little companies, 
 And, our own place once left, 
 Ignorant where to stand, or whom to avoid, 
 By city and household group'd, we live : and many 
 shocks 
 Our order heaven-ordain'd 
 Must every day endure. 
 Voyages, exiles, hates, dissensions, wars. 
 Besides what waste He makes, 
 The all-hated, order-breaking, 
 Without friend, city, or home, 
 Death, who dissevers all. 
 
 Him then I praise, who dares 
 To self-selected good 
 
110 FRAGMENT OF AN "ANTIGONE." 
 
 Prefer obedience to the primal law, 
 
 Which consecrates the ties of blood : for these, indeed, 
 
 Are to the Gods a care : 
 
 That touches but himself. 
 
 For every day man may be link'd and loos'd 
 
 With strangers : but the bond 
 
 Original, deep-in wound, 
 Of blood, can he not Jbind : 
 Nor, if Fate binds, not bear. 
 
 But hush ! Harmon, whom Antigone, 
 Robbing herself of life in burying, 
 Against Creon's law, Polynices, 
 Robs of a lov'd bride ; pale, imploring, 
 
 Waiting her passage, 
 Forth from the palace hitherward comes. 
 
 ILemon. 
 
 No, no, old men, Creon I curse not. 
 I weep, Thebans, 
 
FRAGMENT OF AN "ANTIGONE." Ill 
 
 One than Creon crueller far. 
 For he, he, at least, by slaying her, 
 August laws doth mightily vindicate : 
 But thou, too-bold, headstrong, pitiless, 
 Ah me ! — honourest more than thy lover, 
 
 Antigone, 
 A dead, ignorant, thankless corpse. 
 
 The Chorus. 
 
 Nor was the love untrue 
 
 Which the Dawn- Goddess bore 
 
 To that fair youth she erst 
 
 Leaving the salt sea-beds 
 And coming flush'd over the stormy frith 
 
 Of loud Euripus, saw : 
 
 Saw and snatch'd, wild with love, 
 
 From the pine-dotted spurs 
 
 Of Parnes, where thy waves, 
 
 Asopus, gleam rock-hemm'd ; 
 The Hunter of the Tanagraean Field. 
 
112 FRAGMENT OF AN "ANTIGONE." 
 
 But him, in his sweet prime, 
 By severance immature, 
 By Artemis' soft shafts, 
 She, though a Goddess born, 
 
 Saw in the rocky isle of Delos die. 
 
 Such end o'ertook that love. 
 For she desir'd to make 
 Immortal mortal man, 
 And blend his happy life, 
 Far from the Gods, with hers : 
 
 To him postponing an eternal law. 
 
 TLemon. 
 But, like me, she, wroth, complaining, 
 Succumb'd to the envy of unkind Gods 
 And, her beautiful arms unclasping, 
 Her fair Youth unwillingly gave. 
 
 The Chorus. 
 Nor, though enthron'd too high 
 To fear assault of envious Gods, 
 
FRAGMENT OF AN "ANTIGONE." 113 
 
 His belov'd Argive Seer would Zeus retain 
 From his appointed end 
 In this our Thebes : but when 
 
 His flying steeds came near 
 To cross the steep Ismenian glen, 
 The broad Earth open'd and whelni'd them and him. 
 And through the void air sang 
 At large his enemy's spear. 
 
 And fain would Zeus have sav'd his tired son 
 
 Beholding him where the Two Pillars stand 
 O'er the sun-redden'd Western Straits : 
 
 Or at his work in that dim lower world. 
 Fain would he have recall'd 
 The fraudulent oath which bound 
 
 To a much feebler wight the heroic man : 
 
 But he preferr'd Fate to his strong desire. 
 Nor did there need less than the burning pile 
 
114 FRAGMENT OF AN "ANTIGONE." 
 
 Under the towering Tracliis crags, 
 And the Spercheius' vale, shaken with groans, 
 And the rous'd Maliac gulph, 
 And scar'd CEtsean snows, 
 To achieve his son's deliverance, O my child. 
 
POEMS, 
 
MEMOEIAI VERSES. 
 
 APRIL, 1850. 
 
 Goethe in Weimar sleeps, and Greece, 
 Long since, saw Byron's struggle cease. 
 But one such death remain'd to come. 
 The last poetic voice is dumb. 
 What shall be said o'er Wordsworth's tomb ? 
 
 When Byron's eyes were shut in death. 
 We bow'd our head and held our breath. 
 He taught us little : but our soul 
 Had /eft him like the thunder's roll, 
 i 3 
 
118 MEMORIAL VERSES. 
 
 With shivering heart the strife we saw 
 Of Passion with Eternal Law ; 
 And yet with reverential awe 
 We watch'd the fount of fiery life 
 Which serv'd for that Titanic strife. 
 
 When Goethe's death was told, we said - 
 Sunk, then, is Europe's sagest head. 
 Physician of the Iron Age 
 Goethe has done his pilgrimage. 
 He took the suifering human race, . 
 He read each wound, each weakness clear — 
 And struck his finger on the place 
 And said — Thou ailest here, and here. — 
 Ue look'd on Europe's dying hour 
 Of fitful dream and feverish power ; 
 His'eye plung'd down the weltering strife, 
 The turmoil of expiring life ; 
 He said — The end is everywhere : 
 Art still has truth, take refuge there. 
 
MEMORIAL VERSES. 1 19 
 
 And lie was happy, if to know 
 Causes of things, and far below 
 His feet to see the lurid flow 
 Of terror, and insane distress, 
 And headlong fate, be happiness. 
 
 And Wordsworth ! — Ah, pale Ghosts, rejoice ! 
 For never has such soothing voice 
 Been to your shadowy world convey'd, 
 Since erst, at morn, some wandering shade 
 Heard the clear song of Orpheus come 
 Through Hades, and the mournful gloom. 
 Wordsworth has gone from us — and ye, 
 Ah, may ye feel his voice as we. 
 He too upon a wintry clime 
 Had fallen — on this iron time 
 Of doubts, disputes, distractions, fears. 
 He found us when the age had bound 
 Our souls in its benumbing round ; 
 He spoke, and loos'd our heart in tears. 
 
 I 4 
 
120 MEMORIAL VERSES. 
 
 He laid us as we lay at birth 
 On the cool flowery lap of earth ; 
 Smiles broke from us and we had ease. 
 The hills were round us, and the breeze 
 Went o'er the sun-lit fields again : 
 Our foreheads felt the wind and rain. 
 Our youth return'd : for there was shed 
 On spirits that had long been dead, 
 Spirits dried up and closely-furl'd, 
 The freshness of the early world. 
 
 Ab, since dark days still bring to light 
 Man's prudence and man's fiery might, 
 Time may restore us in his course 
 Goethe's sage mind and Byron's force : 
 But where will Europe's latter hour 
 Again find Wordsworth's healing power ? 
 Others will teach us how to dare, 
 And against fear our breast to steel : 
 
MEMORIAL VERSES. 121 
 
 Others will strengthen us to bear — 
 But who, ah who, will make us feel ? 
 The cloud of mortal destiny, 
 Others will front it fearlessly — 
 But who, like him, will put it by ? 
 
 Keep fresh the grass upon his grave, 
 O Rotha ! with thy living wave. 
 Sing him thy best ! for few or none 
 Hears thy voice right, now he is gone. 
 
122 
 
 REVOLUTIONS. 
 
 Before Man parted for this earthly strand, 
 While yet upon the verge of heaven he stood, 
 God put a heap of letters in his hand, 
 And bade him make with them what word he could. 
 
 And Man has turn'd them many times : made 
 Greece, 
 Rome, England, France : — yes, nor in vain essay'd 
 Way after way, changes that never cease. 
 The letters have combin'd : something was made. 
 
 But ah, an inextinguishable sense 
 Haunts him that he has not made what he should. 
 That he has still, though old, to recommence, 
 Since he has not yet found the word God would. 
 
REVOLUTIONS. 1 28 
 
 And Empire after Empire, at their height 
 Of sway, have felt this boding sense come on. 
 Have felt their huge frames not constructed right, 
 And droop'd, and slowly died upon their throne. 
 
 One day, thou say'st, there will at last appear 
 The word, the order, which God meant should be. — 
 Ah, we shall know that well when it comes near : 
 The band will quit Man's heart : — he will breathe free. 
 
124 
 THE WORLD AND THE QUIETIST. 
 
 TO CRITIAS. 
 
 Wh y, when the World's great mind 
 Hath finally inclined. 
 Why, you say, Critias, he debating still ? 
 Why, with these mournful rhymes 
 Learned in more languid climes, 
 Blame our activity, 
 Who, with such passionate will, 
 Are, ivhat we mean to be ? 
 
 Critias, long since, I know, 
 
 (For Fate decreed it so) 
 Long since the World hath set its heart to live. 
 
 Long since with credulous zeal 
 It turns Life's mighty wheel. 
 
 Still doth for labourers send, 
 
THE WORLD AND THE QUIETIST. 125 
 
 Who still their labour give ; 
 And still expects an end. 
 
 Yet, as the wheel flies round, 
 With no ungrateful sound 
 Do adverse voices fall on the World's ear. 
 Deafen'd by his own stir 
 The rugged Labourer 
 Caught not till then a sense 
 So glowing and so near 
 Of his omnipotence. 
 
 So, when the feast grew loud 
 In Susa's palace proud, 
 A white-rob'd slave stole to the Monarch's side. 
 He spoke : the Monarch heard : 
 Felt the slow-rolling word 
 Swell his attentive soul. 
 Breath'd deeply as it died, 
 And drain'd his mighty bowl. 
 
FADED LEAVES. 
 
FADED LEAYES. 
 
 I. 
 
 THE RIVER. 
 
 Still glides the stream, slow drops the boat 
 Under the rustling poplars' shade ; 
 Silent the swans beside us float : 
 None speaks, none heeds — ah, turn thy head. 
 
 Let those arch eyes now softly shine, 
 That mocking mouth grow sweetly bland : 
 Ah, let them rest, those eyes, on mine ; 
 On mine let rest that lovely hand. 
 
 K 
 
130 FADED LEAVES. 
 
 i 
 
 My pent-up tears oppress my brain, 
 My heart is swoln with love unsaid : 
 Ah, let me weep, and tell my pain, 
 And on thy shoulder rest my head. 
 
 Before I die, before the soul, 
 Which now is mine, must re-attain 
 Immunity from my controul, 
 And wander round the world again : 
 
 Before this teas'd o'erlabour'd heart 
 For ever leaves its vain employ, 
 Dead to its deep habitual smart, 
 And dead to hopes of future joy. 
 
FADED LEAVES. 131 
 
 II. 
 
 TOO LATE. 
 
 Each on his own strict line we move, 
 And some find death ere they find love. 
 So far apart their lives are thrown 
 From the twin soul that halves their own. 
 
 And sometimes, by still harder fate, 
 The lovers meet, but meet too late. 
 — Thy heart is mine ! — True, true ! ah true ! 
 — Then, love, thy hand ! — Ah no ! adieu ! 
 
 k 2 
 
132 FADED LEAVES. 
 
 ni. 
 
 SEPAKATION. 
 
 Stop — Not to me, at this bitter departing, 
 Speak of the sure consolations of Time. 
 
 Fresh be the wound, still-renew'd be its smarting, 
 So but thy image endure in its prime. 
 
 But, if the stedfast commandment of Nature 
 Wills that remembrance should always decay ; 
 
 If the lov'd form and the deep-cherish'd feature 
 Must, when unseen, from the soul fade away — 
 
 Me let no half-effac'd memories cumber ! 
 
 Fled, fled at once, be all vestige of thee — 
 Deep be the darkness, and still be the slumber — 
 
 Dead be the Past and its phantoms to me ! 
 
FADED LExlVES. 133 
 
 Then, when we meet, and thy look strays towards me, 
 Scanning my face and the changes wrought there, — 
 
 Who, let me say, is this Stranger regards me, 
 With the grey eyes, and the lovely brown hair ? 
 
131 FADED LEAVES. 
 
 IV. 
 
 ON THE RHINE. 
 
 Vain is the effort to forget. 
 Some day I shall be cold, I know, 
 As is the eternal moon-lit snow 
 Of the high Alps, to which I go : 
 But ah, not yet ! not yet ! 
 
 Vain is the agony of grief. 
 Tis true, indeed, an iron knot 
 Ties straitly up from mine thy lot, 
 And were it snapt — thou lov'st me not ! 
 But is despair relief? 
 
 Awhile let me with thought have done 
 And as this brimm'd unwrinkled Rhine 
 
FADED LEAVES. 135 
 
 And that far purple mountain line 
 Lie sweetly in the look divine 
 Of the slow-sinking sun ; 
 
 So let me lie, and calm as they 
 Let beam upon my inward view 
 Those eyes of deep, soft, lucent hue — 
 Eyes too expressive to be blue, 
 Too lovely to be grey. 
 
 Ah Quiet, all things feel thy balm ! 
 Those blue hills too, this river's flow, 
 Were restless once, but long ago. 
 Tam'd is their turbulent youthful glow : 
 Their joy is in their calm. 
 
136 FADED LEAVES. 
 
 V. 
 
 LONGING. 
 
 Come to nie in my dreams, and then 
 By day I shall be well again. 
 For then the night will more than pay 
 The hopeless longing of the day. 
 
 Come, as thou cam'st a thousand times, 
 A messenger from radiant climes, 
 And smile on thy new world, and be 
 As kind to others as to me. 
 
 Or, as thou never cam'st in sooth, 
 Come now, and let me dream it truth. 
 And part my hair, and kiss my brow, 
 And say — My love ! why suffer est thou ? 
 
FADED LEAVES. 137 
 
 Come to me in my dreams, and then 
 By day I shall be well again. 
 For then the night will more than pay 
 The hopeless longing of the day. 
 
138 
 
 SELF-DECEPTION. 
 
 Say, what blinds us, that we claim the glory 
 Of possessing powers not our share ? — 
 Since man woke on earth, he knows his story, 
 But, before we woke on earth, we were. 
 
 Long, long since, undower'd jet, our spirit 
 Roam'd, ere birth, the treasuries of God : 
 Saw the gifts, the powers it might inherit ; 
 Ask'd an outfit for its earthly road. 
 
 Then, as now, this tremulous, eager Being 
 Strain'd, and long'd, and grasp'd each gift it saw. 
 < Then, as now, a Power beyond our seeing 
 Stav'd us back, and gave our choice the law. 
 
SELF -DECEPTION. 139 
 
 Ah, whose hand that day through heaven 
 guided 
 Man's blank spirit, since it was not we ? 
 Ah, who swayM our choice, and who decided 
 What our gifts, and what our wants should be ? 
 
 For, alas ! he left us each retaining 
 Shreds of gifts which he refus'd in full. 
 Still these waste us with their hopeless straining — 
 Still the attempt to use them proves them null. 
 
 And on earth we wander, groping, reeling ; 
 Powers stir in us, stir and disappear. 
 Ah, and he, who placed our master-feeling, 
 Fail'd to place our master-feeling clear. 
 
 We but dream we have our wish'd-for powers. 
 Ends we seek we never shall attain. 
 Ah, some power exists there, which is ours ? 
 Some end is there, we indeed may gain ? 
 
140 
 
 EXCUSE. 
 
 I too have suffer'd : yet I know 
 She is not cold, though she seems so : 
 She is not cold, she is not light ; 
 But our ignoble souls lack might. 
 
 She smiles and smiles, and will not sigh, 
 While we for hopeless passion die ; 
 Yet she could love, those eyes declare, 
 Were but men nobler than they are. 
 
 Eagerly once her gracious ken 
 Was turn'd upon the sons of men. 
 But light the serious visage grew — 
 She look'd, and smiled, and saw them through. 
 
EXCUSE. 141 
 
 Our petty souls, our strutting wits, 
 Our labour'd puny passion-fits — 
 Ah, may she scorn them still, till we 
 Scorn them as bitterly as she ! 
 
 Yet oh, that Fate would let her see 
 One of some worthier race than we ; 
 One for whose sake she once might prove 
 How deeply she who scorns can love. 
 
 His eyes be like the starry lights — 
 His voice like sounds of summer nights — 
 In all his lovely mien let pierce 
 The magic of the universe. 
 
 And she to him will reach her hand, 
 And gazing in his eyes will stand, 
 And know her friend, and weep for glee, 
 And cry —Long, long I've looked for thee. — 
 
142 EXCUSE. 
 
 Then will she weep — with smiles, till then, 
 Coldly she mocks the sons of men. 
 Till then her lovely eyes maintain 
 Their gay, unwavering, deep disdain. 
 
143 
 
 INDIFFERENCE. 
 
 I must not say that thou wert true, 
 Yet let me say that thou wert fair. 
 And they that lovely face who view, 
 They will not ask if truth be there. 
 
 Truth — what is truth ? Two bleeding hearts 
 Wounded by men, by Fortune tried, 
 Outwearied with their lonely parts, 
 Yow to beat henceforth side by side. 
 
 The world to them was stern and drear ; 
 Their lot was but to weep and moan. 
 Ah, let them keep their faith sincere, 
 For neither could subsist alone ! 
 
144 INDIFFERENCE. 
 
 But souls whom some benignant breath 
 Has charm'd at birth from gloom and care, 
 These ask no love — these plight no faith, 
 For they are happy as they are. 
 
 The world to them may homage make, 
 And garlands for their forehead weave. 
 And what the world can give, they take : 
 But they bring more than they receive. 
 
 They smile upon the world : their ears 
 To one demand alone are coy. 
 They will not give us love and tears — 
 They bring us light, and warmth, and joy. 
 
 It was not love that heav'd thy breast, 
 Fair child ! it was the bliss within. 
 Adieu ! and say that one, at least, 
 Was just to what he did not win. 
 
145 
 
 EESIGXATION. 
 
 TO FAUSTA. 
 
 To die be given us, or attain ! 
 Fierce work it were, to do again. 
 So pilgrims, bound for Mecca, pray'd 
 At burning noon : so warriors said, 
 Scarf'd with the cross, who watchM the miles 
 Of dust that wreath'd their struggling files 
 Down Lydian mountains : so, when snows 
 Eound Alpine summits eddying rose, 
 The Goth, bound Rome-wards : so the Hun, 
 Crouch'd on his saddle, when the sun 
 Went lurid down o'er flooded plains 
 Through which the groaning Danube strains 
 
146 RESIGNATION. 
 
 To the drear Euxine : so pray all, 
 
 Whom labours, self-ordain'd, enthrall ; 
 
 Because they to themselves propose 
 
 On this side the all-common close 
 
 A goal which, gain'd, may give repose. 
 
 So pray they : and to stand again 
 
 Where they stood once, to them were pain ; 
 
 Pain to thread back and to renew 
 
 Past straits, and currents long steer'd through. 
 
 But milder natures, and more free ; 
 Whom an unblam'd serenity 
 Hath freed from passions, and the state 
 Of struggle these necessitate ; 
 Whom schooling of the stubborn mind 
 Hath made, or birth hath found, resign'd ; 
 These mourn not, that their goings pay 
 Obedience to the passing day : 
 These claim not every laughing Hour 
 For handmaid to their striding power ; 
 
RESIGNATION. 147 
 
 Each in her turn, with torch uprear'd, 
 To await their march ; and when appear'd, 
 Through the cold gloom, with measur'd race, 
 To usher for a destin'd space, 
 (Her own sweet errands all foregone) 
 The too imperious Traveller on. 
 These, Fausta, ask not this : nor thou, 
 Time's chafing prisoner, ask it now. 
 
 We left, just ten years since, you say, 
 That wayside inn we left to-day : 
 Our jovial host, as forth we fare, 
 Shouts greeting from his easy chair ; 
 High on a bank our leader stands, 
 Reviews and ranks his motley bands ; 
 Makes clear our goal to every eye, 
 The valley's western boundary. 
 A gate swings to : our tide hath flow'd 
 Already from the silent road. 
 
 L 2 
 
148 RESIGNATION. 
 
 The valley pastures, one by one, 
 
 Are threaded, quiet in the sun : 
 
 And now beyond the rude stone bridge 
 
 Slopes gracious up the western ridge. 
 
 Its woody border, and the last 
 
 Of its dark upland farms is past ; 
 
 Cool farms, with open-lying stores, 
 
 Under their burnish'd sycamores : 
 
 All past : and through the trees we glide 
 
 Emerging on the green hill-side. 
 
 There climbing hangs, a far-seen sign, 
 
 Our wavering, many-colour'd line ; 
 
 There winds, upstreaming slowly still 
 
 Over the summit of the hill. 
 
 And now, in front, behold outspread 
 
 Those upper regions we must tread ; 
 
 Mild hollows, and clear heathy swells, 
 
 The cheerful silence of the fells. 
 
 Some two hours' march, with serious air, 
 
 Through the deep noontide heats we fare 
 
RESIGNATION. 1 19 
 
 The red-grouse, springing at our sound, 
 
 Skims, now and then, the shining ground ; 
 
 No life, save his and ours, intrudes 
 
 Upon these breathless solitudes. 
 
 O joy ! again the farms appear ; 
 
 Cool shade is there, and rustic cheer: 
 
 There springs the brook will guide us down. 
 
 Bright comrade, to the noisy town. 
 
 Lingering, we follow down : we gain 
 
 The town, the highway, and the plain, 
 
 And many a mile of dusty way, 
 
 Parch'd and road-worn, we made that day ; 
 
 But, Fausta, I remember well 
 
 That, as the balmy darkness fell, 
 
 We bath'd our hands, with speechless glee, 
 
 That night, in the wide-glimmering Sea. 
 
 Once more we tread this self-same road, 
 Fausta, which ten years since we trod : 
 
 L 3 
 
150 RESIGNATION. 
 
 Alone we tread it, you and I ; 
 Ghosts of that boisterous company. 
 Here, where the brook shines, near its head, 
 in its clear, shallow, turf-fring'd bed ; 
 Here, whence the eye first sees, far down, 
 Capp'd with faint smoke, the noisy town ; 
 Here sit we, and again unroll, 
 Though slowly, the familiar whole. 
 The solemn wastes of heathy hill 
 Sleep in the July sunshine still : 
 The self-same shadows now, as then, 
 Play through this grassy upland glen : 
 The loose dark stones on the green way 3 
 Lie strewn, it seems, where then they lay : 
 On this mild bank above the stream, 
 (You crush them) the blue gentians gleam. 
 Still this wild brook, the rushes cool, 
 The sailing foam, the shining pool. — 
 These are not chang'd : and we, you say, 
 Are scarce more chang'd, in truth, than they 
 
RESIGNATION. 151 
 
 The Gipsies, whom we met below, 
 They too have long roam'd to and fro. 
 They ramble, leaving, where they pass, 
 Their fragments on the cumber'd grass. 
 And often to some kindly place 
 Chance guides the migratory race 
 Where, though long wanderings intervene, 
 They recognise a former scene. 
 The dingy tents are pitch'd : the fires 
 Give to the wind their wavering spires ; 
 In dark knots crouch round the wild flame 
 Their children, as when first they came ; 
 They see their shackled beasts again 
 Move, browsing, up the grey-wall'd lane. 
 Signs are not wanting, which might raise 
 The ghosts in them of former days : 
 Signs are not wanting, if they would ; 
 Suggestions to disquietude. 
 For them, for all, Time's busy touch, 
 While it mends little, troubles much : 
 
 L 4 
 
152 EESIGXATIOX. 
 
 Their joints grow stiffer; but the year 
 Runs his old round of dubious cheer : 
 Chilly they grow ; yet winds in March, 
 Still, sharp as ever, freeze and parch : 
 They must live still ; and yet, God knows, 
 Crowded and keen the country grows : 
 It seems as if, in their decay, 
 The Law grew stronger every day. 
 So might they reason ; so compare, 
 Fausta, times past with times that are. 
 But no : — they rubb'd through yesterday 
 In their hereditary way ; 
 And they will rub through, if they can, 
 To-morrow on the self-same plan ; 
 Till death arrives to supersede, 
 For them, vicissitude and need. 
 
 7 
 
 ^ y " The Poet, to whose mighty heart 
 
 Heaven doth a quicker pulse impart, 
 
 f 
 
 H 
 
 A 
 
 ^y 
 
RESIGNATION. 153 
 
 Subdues that energy to scan 
 
 Not his own course, but that of Man. 
 
 Though he move mountains ; though his day 
 
 Be pass'd on the proud heights of sway ; 
 
 Though he hath loos'd a thousand chains ; 
 
 Though lie hath borne immortal pains ; 
 
 Action and suffering though he know ; 
 
 — He hath not liv'd, if he lives so. 
 
 He sees, in some great -historied land, 
 
 A ruler of the people stand ; 
 
 Sees his strong thought in fiery flood 
 
 Roll through the heaving multitude ; 
 
 Exults : yet for no moment's space 
 
 Envies the all-regarded place. 
 
 Beautiful eyes meet his ; and he 
 
 Bears to admire uncravingly : 
 
 They pass ; he, mingled with the crowd, 
 
 Is in their far-off triumphs proud. 
 
 From some high station he looks down, 
 
 At sunset, on a populous town ; 
 
154 RESIGNATION. 
 
 Surveys each happy group that fleets, 
 
 Toil euded, through the shining streets, 
 
 Each with some errand of its own ; — 
 
 And does not say, / am alone. * 
 
 He sees the gentle stir of birth 
 
 When Morning purifies the earth ; 
 
 He leans upon a gate, and sees 
 
 The pastures, and the quiet trees. 
 
 Low woody hill, with gracious bound, 
 
 Folds the still valley almost round ; 
 
 The cuckoo, loud on some high lawn, 
 
 Is answer'd from the depth of dawn ; 
 
 In the hedge straggling to the stream, 
 
 Pale, dew-drench'd, half-shut roses gleam : 
 
 But where the further side slopes down 
 
 He sees the drowsy new-wak'd clown 
 
 In his white quaint-embroider'd frock 
 
 Make, whistling, towards his mist-wreath'd flock 
 
 Slowly, behind the heavy tread, 
 
 The wet flower'd grass heaves up its head. — 
 
RESIGNATION. 155 
 
 Lean'd on his gate, he gazes : tears 
 Are in his eyes, and in his ears 
 The murmur of a thousand years : 
 Before him he sees Life unroll, 
 A placid and continuous whole ; 
 That general Life, which does not cease. 
 Whose secret is not joy, but peace ; 
 That Life, whose dumb wish is not miss'd 
 If birth proceeds, if things subsist : 
 The Life of plants, and stones, and rain : 
 The Life he craves ; if not in vain 
 Fate gave, what Chance shall not controul, 
 His sad lucidity of soul. 
 
 You listen : — but that wandering smile, 
 Fausta, betrays you cold the while. 
 Your eyes pursue the bells of foam 
 Wash'd, eddying, from this bank, their home. 
 Those Gipsies, so your thoughts I scan, 
 Are less, the Poet more, than man. 
 
156 RESIGNATION. 
 
 They feel not, though they move and see : 
 Deeply the Poet feels ; but he 
 Breathes, when he will, immortal air, 
 
 Where Orpheus and where Homer are. 
 In the day's life, ivhose iron round 
 Hems us all in, he is not bound. 
 He escapes thence, but we abide. 
 Not deep the Poet sees, but wide. 
 
 The World in which we live and move 
 Outlasts aversion, outlasts love : 
 Outlasts each effort, interest, hope, 
 Remorse, grief, joy : — and were the scope 
 Of these affections wider made, 
 Man still would see, and see dismay'd, 
 
 Beyond his passion's widest range 
 
 V 
 
 Far regions of eternal change. 
 
 Nay, and since death, which wipes out man, 
 Finds him with many an unsolv'd plan, 
 
RESIGNATION. 157 
 
 With much unknown, and much untried, 
 
 Wonder not dead, and thirst not dried, 
 
 Still gazing on the ever full 
 
 Eternal mundane spectacle ; 
 
 This World in which we draw our breath, 
 
 In some sense, Fausta, outlasts death. 
 
 Blame thou not therefore him, who dares 
 * Judge vain beforehand human cares. 
 Whose natural insight can discern 
 What through experience others learn. 
 Who needs not love and power, to know 
 Love transient, power an unreal show. 
 Who treads at ease life's uncheer'd ways : — 
 Him blame not, Fausta, rather praise. 
 Rather thyself for some aim pray 
 Nobler than this — to fill the day. 
 Rather, that heart, which burns in thee, 
 Ask, not to amuse, but to set free. 
 
158 RESIGNATION. 
 
 Be passionate hopes not ill resign'd 
 For quiet, and a fearless mind. 
 And though Fate grudge to thee and ine 
 The Poet's rapt security, 
 Yet they, believe me, who await 
 No gifts from Chance, have conquer'd Fate. 
 They, winning room to see and hear, 
 And to men's business not too near, 
 Through clouds of individual strife 
 Draw homewards to the general Life. 
 Like leaves by suns not yet uncurl'd : 
 To the wise, foolish ; to the world, 
 Weak : yet not weak, I might reply, 
 Not foolish, Fausta, in His eye, 
 To whom each moment in its race, 
 Crowd as we will its neutral space, 
 Is but a quiet watershed 
 Whence, equally, the Seas of Life and Death are 
 V fed. 
 
 
RESIGNATION. 159 
 
 Enough, we live : — and if a life, 
 With large results so little rife, 
 Though bearable, seem hardly worth 
 This pomp of worlds, this pain of birth ; 
 Yet, Fausta, the mute turf we tread, 
 The solemn hills around us spread, 
 This stream that falls incessantly, 
 The strange-scrawl'd rocks, the lonely sky, 
 If I might lend their life a voice, 
 Seem to bear rather than rejoice. 
 And even could the intemperate prayer 
 Man iterates, while these forbear, 
 For movement, for an ampler sphere, 
 Pierce Fate's impenetrable ear ; 
 Not milder is the general lot 
 Because our spirits have forgot, 
 In action's dizzying eddy whirl'd, 
 The something that infects the world. 
 
160 
 
 DESPONDENCY. 
 
 The thoughts that rain their steady glow 
 Like stars on life's cold sea, 
 Which others know, or say they know — 
 They never shone for me. 
 
 Thoughts light, like gleams, my spirit's sky, 
 But they will not remain. 
 They light me once, they hurry by, 
 And never come asrain. 
 
 
161 
 
 THE PHILOSOPHER AND THE STARS. 
 
 And you, ye Stars ! 
 Who slowly begin to marshal, 
 As of old, in the fields of heaven, 
 Your distant, melancholy lines — 
 
 Have you, too, surviv'd yourselves ? 
 Are you, too, what I fear to become ? 
 
 You too once liv'd — 
 You too mov'd joyfully 
 Among august companions 
 In an older world, peopled by Gods, 
 In a mightier order, 
 The radiant, rejoicing, intelligent Sons of Heaven 
 
 But now, you kindle 
 Your lonely, cold-shining lights, 
 
 M 
 
162 THE PHILOSOPHER AND THE STARS. 
 
 Unwilling lingerers 
 In the heavenly wilderness, 
 For a younger, ignoble world. 
 And renew, by necessity, 
 Night after night your courses, 
 In echoing unnear'd silence, 
 Above a race you know not. 
 Uncaring and undelighted, 
 Without friend and without home. 
 Weary like us, though not 
 
 Weary with our weariness. 
 
163 
 
 DESIRE. 
 
 Thou, who dost dwell alone- 
 Thou, who dost know thine own- 
 Thou, to whom all are known 
 From the cradle to the grave — 
 
 Save, oh, save. 
 From the world's temptations, 
 
 From tribulations ; 1 
 From that fierce anguish 
 Wherein we languish ; 
 From that torpor deep 
 Wherein we lie asleep, 
 Heavy as death, cold as the grave ; 
 Save, oh, save. 
 
 m 2 
 
164 DESIRE. 
 
 When the Soul, growing clearer, 
 
 Sees God no nearer : 
 When the Soul, mounting higher, 
 
 To God comes no nigher : 
 But the arch-fiend Pride 
 Mounts at her side, 
 Foiling her high emprize, 
 Sealing her eagle eyes, 
 And, when she fain would soar, 
 Makes idols to adore ; 
 Changing the pure emotion 
 Of her high devotion 
 To a skin-deep sense 
 Of her own eloquence : 
 Strong to deceive, strong to enslave — 
 Save, oh, save. 
 
 From the ingrain'd fashion 
 Of this earthly nature 
 That mars thy creature. 
 From grief, that is but passion 
 
DESIRE. 165 
 
 From mirth, that is but feigning ; 
 From tears, that bring no healing ; 
 From wild and weak complaining ; 
 Thine old strength revealing, 
 Save, oh, save. 
 From doubt, where all is double : 
 Where wise men are not strong : 
 
 o 
 
 Where comfort turns to trouble : 
 Where just men suffer wrong. 
 Where sorrow treads on joy : 
 Where sweet things soonest cloy : 
 Where faiths are built on dust : 
 Where Love is half mistrust, 
 Hungry, and barren, and sharp as the sea ; 
 Oh, set us free. 
 let the false dream fly 
 Where our sick souls do lie 
 
 Tossing continually. 
 where thy voice doth come 
 Let all doubts be dumb : 
 m 3 
 
166 DESIRE. 
 
 Let all words be mild : 
 All strifes be reconcil'd : 
 All pains beguil'd. 
 
 Light bring no blindness ; 
 
 Love no unkindness ; 
 
 Knowledge no ruin ; 
 
 Fear no undoing. 
 
 From the cradle to the grave, 
 Save, oh, save. 
 
167 
 
 TO A GIPSY CHILD BY THE SEA-SHORE, 
 
 DOUGLAS, ISLE OF MAN. 
 
 Who taught this pleading to unpractis'd eyes ? 
 Who hid such import in an infant's gloom ? 
 Who lent thee, child, this meditative guise ? 
 What clouds thy forehead, and fore -dates thy doom ? 
 
 Lo ! sails that gleam a moment and are gone ; 
 The swinging waters, and the cluster'd pier. 
 Not idly Earth and Ocean labour on, 
 Nor idly do these sea-birds hover near. 
 
 But thou, whom superfluity of joy 
 Wafts not from thine own thoughts, nor longings vain, 
 Nor weariness, the full-fed soul's annoy ; 
 Remaining in thy hunger and thy pain : 
 m 4 
 
168 TO A GIPSY CHILD BY THE SEA-SHORE. 
 
 Thou, drugging pain by patience ; half averse 
 From thine own mother's breast, that knows not 
 
 thee; 
 With eyes that sought thine eyes thou didst converse* 
 And that soul-searching vision fell on me. 
 
 Glooms that go deep as thine I have not known : 
 Moods of fantastic sadness, nothing worth. 
 Thy sorrow and thy calmness are thine own : 
 Glooms that enhance and glorify this earth. 
 
 What mood wears like complexion to thy woe ? — 
 His, who in mountain glens, at noon of day, 
 Sits rapt, and hears the battle break below ? — 
 Ah ! thine was not the shelter, but the fray. 
 
 What exile's, changing bitter thoughts with glad? 
 What seraph's, in some alien planet born ? — 
 No exile's dream was ever half so sad, 
 Nor any angel's sorrow so forlorn. 
 
TO A GIPSY CHILD BY THE SEA-SHORE. 169 
 
 Is the calm thine of stoic souls, who weigh 
 Life well, and find it wanting, nor deplore: 
 But in disdainful silence turn away, 
 Stand mute, self-centred, stern, and dream no more ? 
 
 Or do I wait, to hear some grey-hair'd king 
 Unravel all his many-colour'd lore : 
 Whose mind hath known all arts of governing, 
 Mus'd much, lov'd life a little, loath'd it more ? 
 
 Down the pale cheek long lines of shadow slope, 
 Which years, and curious thought, and suffering 
 
 give 
 
 Thou hast foreknown the vanity of hope, 
 Foreseen thy harvest — yet proceed'st to live. 
 
 meek anticipant of that sure pain 
 Whose sureness grey-hair'd scholars hardly learn ! 
 What wonder shall time breed, to swell thy strain ? 
 What heavens, what earth, what suns shalt thou 
 discern ? 
 
170 TO A GIPSY CHILD BY TIIE SEA-SHORE. 
 
 Ere the long night, whose stillness brooks no 
 star, 
 Match that funereal aspect with her pall, 
 I think, thou wilt have fathom'd life too far, 
 Have known too much or else forgotten all. 
 
 The Guide of our dark steps a triple veil 
 Betwixt our senses and our sorrow keeps : 
 Hath sown with cloudless passages the tale 
 Of grief, and eas'd us with a thousand sleeps. 
 
 Ah ! not the nectarous poppy lovers use, 
 Not daily labour's dull, Lethaean spring, 
 Oblivion in lost angels can infuse 
 Of the soil'd glory, and the trailing wing ; 
 
 And though thou glean, what strenuous gleaners 
 may, 
 In the throng'd fields where winning comes by 
 strife ; 
 
TO A GIPSY CHILD BY THE SEA-SHORE. 171 
 
 And though the just sun gild, as all men pray, 
 Some reaches of thy storm-vext stream of life ; 
 
 Though that blank sunshine blind thee : though the 
 
 cloud 
 That sever'd the world's march and thine, is gone : 
 Though ease dulls grace, and Wisdom be too proud 
 To halve a lodging that was all her own : 
 
 Once, ere the day decline, thou shalt discern, 
 Oh once, ere night, in thy success, thy chain. 
 Ere the long evening close, thou shalt return, 
 And wear this majesty of grief again. 
 
172 
 
 OBERMAM. 
 
 In front the awful Alpine track 
 Crawls up its rocky stair ; 
 The autumn storm-winds drive the rack 
 Close o'er it, in the air. 
 
 Behind are the abandon'd baths 
 Mute in their meadows lone ; 
 The leaves are on the valley paths ; 
 The mists are on the Rhone — 
 
 The white mists rolling like a sea. 
 I hear the torrents roar. 
 — Yes, Obermann, all speaks of thee ! 
 I feel thee near once more. 
 
OBERMANN. 173 
 
 I turn thy leaves : I feel their breath 
 Once more upon me roll ; 
 That air of languor, cold, and death, 
 Which brooded o'er thy soul. 
 
 Fly hence, poor Wretch, whoe'er thou art, 
 Condemn'd to cast about, 
 All shipwreck in thy own weak heart, 
 For comfort from without : 
 
 A fever in these pages burns 
 Beneath the calm they feign ; 
 A wounded human spirit turns 
 Here, on its bed of pain. 
 
 Yes, though the virgin mountain air 
 Fresh through these pages blows, 
 Though to these leaves the glaciers spare 
 The soul of their white snows, 
 
174 OBERMANN. 
 
 Though here a mountain murmur swells 
 Of many a dark-bough'd pine, 
 Though, as you read, you hear the bells 
 Of the high-pasturing kine — 
 
 Yet, through the hum of torrent lone, 
 And brooding mountain bee, 
 There sobs I know not what ground tone 
 Of human agony. 
 
 Is it for this, because the sound 
 Is fraught too deep with pain, 
 That, Obermann ! the world around 
 So little loves thy strain ? 
 
 Some secrets may the poet tell, 
 For the world loves new ways. 
 To tell too deep ones is not well ; 
 It knows not what he says. 
 
OBERMANN. ] 75 
 
 Yet of the spirits who have reign'd 
 In this our troubled day, 
 I know but two, who have attain'd, 
 Save thee, to see their way. 
 
 By England's lakes, in grey old age, 
 His quiet home one keeps ; * 
 And one, the strong much-toiling Sage. 
 In German Weimar sleeps. 
 
 But Wordsworth's eyes avert their ken 
 From half of human fate ; 
 And Goethe's course few sons of men 
 May think to emulate. 
 
 For he pursued a lonely road, 
 His eyes on Nature's plan ; 
 Neither made man too much a God, 
 Nor God too much a man. 
 
 * Written in November, 1849. 
 
176 OBERMANX. 
 
 Strong was he, with a spirit free 
 From mists, and sane, and clear ; 
 Clearer, how much ! than ours : yet we 
 Have a worse course to steer. 
 
 For though his manhood bore the blast 
 Of Europe's stormiest time, 
 Yet in a tranquil world was pass'd 
 His tenderer youthful prime. 
 
 But we, brought forth and rear'd in hours 
 Of change, alarm, surprise — 
 What shelter to grow ripe is ours? 
 What leisure to grow wise ? 
 
 Like children bathing on the shore, 
 Buried a wave beneath, 
 The second wave succeeds, before 
 We have had time to breathe. 
 
OBEKMANN. 177 
 
 Too fast we live, too much are tried, 
 Too harass'd, to attain 
 Wordsworth's sweet calm, or Goethe's wide 
 And luminous view to gain. 
 
 And then we turn, thou sadder Sage ! 
 To thee : we feel thy spell. 
 The hopeless tangle of our age — 
 Thou too hast scann'd it well. 
 
 Immoveable thou sittest ; still 
 As death ; compos'd to bear. 
 Thy head is clear, thy feeling chill — 
 And icy thy despair. 
 
 Yes, as the Son of Thetis said, 
 One hears thee saying now — 
 Greater by far thati thou are dead : 
 Strive not : die also thou. — 
 N 
 
1 78 OBERMANN. 
 
 Ah ! Two desires toss about 
 The poet's feverish blood. 
 One drives him to the world without, 
 And one to solitude. 
 
 The glow, he cries, the thrill of life — 
 Where, where do these abound ? — 
 Not in the world, not in the strife 
 Of men, shall they be found. 
 
 He who hath watch'd, not shar'd, the strife, 
 Knows how the day hath gone ; 
 He only lives with the world's life 
 "Who hath renounc'd his own. 
 
 To thee we come, then. Clouds are roll'd 
 Where thou, Seer, art set ; 
 Thy realm of thought is drear and cold — 
 The world is colder yet ! 
 
OBER1IANN. 179 
 
 And thou hast pleasures too to share 
 With those who come to thee : 
 Balms floating on thy mountain air, 
 And healing sights to see. 
 
 How often, where the slopes are green 
 On Jaman, hast thou sate 
 By some high chalet door, and seen 
 The summer day grow late, 
 
 And darkness steal o'er the wet grass 
 With the pale crocus starr'd, 
 And reach that glimmering sheet of glass 
 Beneath the piny sward, 
 
 Lake Leman's waters, far below : 
 And watch'd the rosy light 
 Fade from the distant peaks of snow : 
 And on the air of night 
 
 N 2 
 
1 80 OBERMANN. 
 
 Heard accents of the eternal tongue 
 Through the pine branches play : 
 Listen'd, and felt thyself grow young ; 
 Listen'd, and wept Away ! 
 
 Away the dreams that but deceive ! 
 And thou, sad Guide, adieu ! 
 I go ; Fate drives me : but I leave 
 Half of my life with you. 
 
 We, in some unknown Power's employ, 
 Move on a rigorous line : 
 Can neither, when we will, enjoy ; 
 Nor, when we will, resign. 
 
 I in the world must live : — but thou, 
 Thou melancholy Shade ! 
 Wilt not, if thou can'st see me now, 
 Condemn me, nor upbraid. 
 
OBERMANN. 181 
 
 For thou art gone away from earth, 
 And place with those dost claim, 
 The Children of the Second Birth 
 Whom the world could not tame ; 
 
 And with that small transfigur'd Band, 
 Whom many a different way 
 Conducted to their common land, 
 Thou learn'st to think as they. 
 
 Christian and pagan, king and slave, 
 Soldier and anchorite, 
 Distinctions we esteem so grave, 
 Are nothing in their sight. 
 
 They do not ask, who pin'd unseen, 
 Who was on action hurl'd, 
 Whose one bond is that all have been 
 Unspotted by the world. 
 n 3 
 
182 OBERMANN. 
 
 There without anger thou wilt see 
 Him who obeys thy spell 
 No more, so he but rest, like thee, 
 Unsoil'd : — and so, Farewell ! 
 
 Farewell ! — Whether thou noAv liest near 
 That much-lov'd inland sea 
 The ripples of whose blue waves cheer 
 Vevey and Meillerie, 
 
 And in that gracious region bland, 
 Where with clear-rustling wave 
 The scented pines of Switzerland 
 Stand dark round thy green grave, 
 
 Between the dusty vineyard walls 
 Issuing on that green place 
 The early peasant still recalls 
 The pensive stranger's face, 
 
OBERMANN. 183 
 
 And stoops to clear thy moss-grown date 
 Ere he plods on again ; — 
 Or whether, by maligner Fate, 
 Among the swarms of men, 
 
 Where between granite terraces 
 The blue Seine rolls her wave, 
 The Capital of Pleasure sees 
 Thy hardly -heard-of grave — 
 
 Farewell ! Under the sky we part, 
 In this stern Alpine dell. 
 O unstrung will ! broken heart ! 
 A last, a last farewell ! 
 
 N 4 
 
184 
 
 THE BURIED LIFE. 
 
 Light flows our war of mocking words, and yet, 
 Behold, with tears my eyes are wet. 
 I feel a nameless sadness o'er me roll. 
 
 Yes, yes, we know that we can jest, 
 We know, we know that we can smile; 
 But there's a something in this breast 
 To which thy light words bring no rest, 
 And thy gay smiles no anodyne. 
 
 Give me thy hand, and hush awhile, 
 And turn those limpid eyes on mine, 
 And let me read there, love, thy inmost soul. 
 
 Alas, is even Love too weak 
 To unlock the heart, and let it speak ? 
 
THE BURIED LIFE. 185 
 
 Are even lovers powerless to reveal 
 
 To one another what indeed they feel ? 
 
 I knew the mass of men conceal'd 
 
 Their thoughts, for fear that if reveal'd 
 
 They would by other men be met 
 
 With blank indifference, or with blame reprov'd : 
 
 I knew they liv'd and mov'd 
 
 Trick'd in disguises, alien to the rest 
 
 Of men, and alien to themselves — and yet 
 
 The same heart beats in every human breast. 
 
 But we, my love — does a like spell benumb 
 Our hearts — our voices ? — must we too be dumb ? 
 
 Ah, well for us, if even we, 
 Even for a moment, can get free 
 Our heart, and have our lips unchain'd : 
 For that which seals them hath been deep ordain'd. 
 
 Fate, which foresaw 
 How frivolous a baby man would be, 
 
186 THE BURIED LIFE. 
 
 By what distractions he would be possess'd, 
 How he would pour himself in every strife, 
 And well-nigh change his own identity ; 
 That it might keep from his capricious play 
 His genuine self, and force him to obey, 
 Even in his own despite, his being's law, 
 Bade through the deep recesses of our breast 
 The unregarded River of our Life 
 Pursue with indiscernible flow its way ; 
 And that we should not see 
 The buried stream, and seem to be 
 Eddying about in blind uncertainty, 
 Though driving on with it eternally. 
 
 But often, in the world's most crowded streets, 
 But often, in the din of strife, 
 There rises an unspeakable desire 
 After the knowledge of our buried life, 
 A thirst to spend our fire and restless force 
 In tracking out our true, original course ; 
 
THE BURIED LIFE. 187 
 
 A longing to inquire 
 Into the mystery of this heart that beats 
 So wild, so deep in us, to know 
 Whence our thoughts come and where they go. 
 And many a man in his own breast then delves, 
 But deep enough, alas, none ever mines : 
 And we have been on many thousand lines, 
 And we have shown on each talent and power, 
 But hardly have we, for one little hour, 
 Been on our own line, have we been ourselves ; 
 Hardly had skill to utter one of all 
 The nameless feelings that course through our breast, 
 But they course on for ever unexpress'd. ^/^ 
 And long we try in vain to speak and act 
 Our hidden self, and what we say and do 
 Is eloquent, is well — but 'tis not true : 
 And then we will no more be rack'd 
 With inward striving, and demand 
 Of all the thousand nothings of the hour 
 Their stupifying power ; 
 
188 THE BURIED LIFE. 
 
 All yes, and they benumb us at our call : 
 
 Yet still, from time to time, vague and forlorn, 
 
 From the soul's subterranean depth upborne 
 
 As from an infinitely distant land, 
 
 Come airs, and floating echoes, and convey 
 
 A melancholy into all our day. 
 
 Only — but this is rare — 
 When a beloved hand is laid in ours, 
 When, jaded with the rush and glare 
 Of the interminable hours, 
 Our eyes can in another's eyes read clear, 
 When our world-deafen'd ear 
 Is by the tones of a lov'd voice caress'd, — 
 
 A bolt is shot back somewhere in our breast 
 And a lost pulse of feeling stirs again : 
 The eye sinks inward, and the heart lies plain, 
 And what we mean, we say, and what we would, we 
 
 know. 
 A man becomes aware of his life's flow, 
 
THE BURIED LIFE. 189 
 
 And hears its winding murmur, and he sees 
 The meadows where it glides, the sun, the breeze. 
 
 And there arrives a lull in the hot race 
 Wherein he doth for ever chase 
 That flying and elusive shadow, Rest. 
 An air of coolness plays upon his face, 
 And an unwonted calm pervades his breast. 
 
 And then he thinks he knows 
 The Hills where his life rose, 
 And the Sea where it goes. 
 
190 
 
 THE YOUTH OF NATURE. 
 
 Eais'd are the dripping oars — 
 Silent the boat : the lake, 
 Lovely and soft as a dream, 
 Swims in the sheen of the moon. 
 The mountains stand at its head 
 Clear in the pure June night, 
 But the valleys are flooded with haze. 
 Rydal and Fairfield are there ; 
 In the shadow Wordsworth lies dead. 
 So it is, so it will be for aye. 
 
 Nature is fresh as of old, 
 Is lovely : a mortal is dead. 
 
 The spots which recall him survive, 
 For he lent a new life to these hills. 
 
THE YOUTH OF NATUEE. 191 
 
 The Pillar still broods o'er the fields 
 Which border Ennerdale Lake, 
 And Egremont sleeps by the sea. 
 The gleam of The Evening Star 
 Twinkles on Grasmere no more, 
 But ruin'd and solemn and grey 
 The sheepfold of Michael survives, 
 And far to the south, the heath 
 Still blows in the Quantock coombs, 
 By the favourite waters of Ruth. 
 These survive : yet not without pain 
 Pain and dejection to-night, 
 Can I feel that their Poet is gone. 
 
 He grew old in an age he condemn'd. 
 He look'd on the rushing decay 
 Of the times which had shelter'd his youth. 
 Felt the dissolving throes 
 Of a social order he lov'd. 
 Outliv'd his brethren, his peers. 
 
192 THE YOUTH OF NATURE. 
 
 And, like the Theban seer, 
 Died in his enemies' day. 
 
 Cold bubbled the spring of Tilphusa, 
 Copais lay bright in the moon ; 
 Helicon glass'd in the lake 
 Its firs, and afar, rose the peaks 
 Of Parnassus, snowily clear : 
 Thebes was behind him in flames, 
 And the clang of arms in his ear, 
 When his awe- struck captors led 
 The Theban seer to the spring. 
 
 Tiresias drank and died. 
 Nor did reviving Thebes 
 See such a prophet again. 
 
 Well may we mourn, when the head 
 Of a sacred poet lies low 
 In an age which can rear them no more. 
 The complaining millions of men 
 
THE YOUTH OF NATURE. 193 
 
 Darken in labour and pain ; 
 
 But he was a priest to us all 
 
 Of the wonder and bloom of the world, 
 
 Which we saw with his eyes, and were glad. 
 
 He is dead, and the fruit-bearing day 
 Of his race is past on the earth ; 
 And darkness returns to our eyes. 
 
 For oh, is it you, is it you, 
 Moonlight, and shadow, and lake, 
 And mountains, that fill us with joy, 
 Or the Poet who sings you so well ? 
 Is it you, Beauty, O Grace, 
 Charm, Romance, that we feel, 
 Or the voice which reveals what you are ? 
 Are ye, like daylight and sun, 
 Shar'd and rejoic'd in by all ? 
 Or are ye immers'd in the mass 
 Of matter, and hard to extract, 
 Or sunk at the core of the world 
 o 
 
194 THE YOUTH OF NATURE. 
 
 Too deep for the most to discern ? 
 
 Like stars in the deep of the sky, 
 Which arise on the glass of the sage, 
 But are lost when their watcher is gone. 
 
 " They are here " — I heard, as men 
 heard 
 In My si an Ida the voice 
 Of the Mighty Mother, or Crete, 
 The murmur of Nature reply — 
 "Loveliness, Magic, and Grace. 
 They are here — they are set in the world — 
 They abide — and the finest of souls 
 Has not been thrill'd by them all, 
 Nor the dullest been dead to them quite. 
 The poet who sings them may die, 
 But they are immortal, and live, 
 For they are the life of the world. 
 Will ye not learn it, and know, 
 When ye mourn that a poet is dead. 
 
THE YOUTH OF NATURE. 195 
 
 That the singer was less than his themes, 
 Life, and Emotion, and I ? 
 
 " More than the singer are these. 
 Weak is the tremor of pain 
 That thrills in his mournfullest chord 
 To that which once ran through his soul. 
 Cold the elation of joy 
 In his gladdest, airest song, 
 To that which of old in his youth 
 Fill'd him and made him divine. 
 Hardly his voice at its best 
 Gives us a sense of the awe, 
 The vastness, the grandeur, the gloom 
 Of the unlit gulph of himself. 
 
 " Ye know not yourselves — and your bards, 
 The clearest, the best, who have read 
 Most in themselves, have beheld 
 Less than they left unreveal'd. 
 o 2 
 
196 THE YOUTH OF NATURE. 
 
 Ye express not yourselves — can ye make 
 With marble, with colour, with word, 
 What charm'd you in others re-live ? 
 Can thy pencil, Artist, restore 
 The figure, the bloom of thy love, 
 As she was in her morning of spring ? 
 Canst thou paint the ineffable smile 
 Of her eyes as they rested on thine ? 
 Can the image of life have the glow, 
 The motion of life itself? 
 
 "Yourselves and your fellows ye know not- 
 and me 
 The Mateless, the One, will ye know ? 
 Will ye scan me, and read me, and tell 
 Of the thoughts that ferment in my breast, 
 My longing, my sadness, my joy? 
 Will ye claim for your great ones the gift 
 To have render'd the gleam of my skies, 
 To have echoed the moan of my seas, 
 
THE TOUTH OF NATURE. 197 
 
 Utter'd the voice of my hills ? 
 
 When your great ones depart, will ye say — 
 
 All things have suffered a loss — 
 
 Xature is hid in their grave ? 
 
 " Race after race, man after man, 
 Have dream'd that my secret was theirs, 
 Have thought that I liv'd but for them, 
 That they were my glory and joy. — 
 They are dust, they are chang'd, they are gone. — 
 I remain." 
 
 o 3 
 
19* 
 
 THE YOUTH OF MAN, 
 
 We, Nature, depart : 
 Thou survivest us : this, 
 This, I know, is the law. 
 Yes, but more than this, 
 Thou who seest us die 
 Seest us change while we live ; 
 Seest our dreams one by one, 
 Seest our errors depart : 
 
 Watchest us, Nature, throughout, 
 Mild and inscrutably calm. 
 
 Well for us that we change ! 
 Well for us that the Power 
 
THE YOUTH OF MAN. 199 
 
 Which in our morning prime 
 Saw the mistakes of our youth, 
 Sweet, and forgiving, and good, 
 Sees the contrition of age ! 
 
 Behold, Nature, this pair ! 
 See them to-night where they stand, 
 Not with the halo of youth 
 Crowning their brows with its light, 
 Not with the sunshine of hope, 
 Not with the rapture of spring, 
 Which they had of old, when they stood 
 Years ago at my side 
 In this self-same garden, and said ; — 
 " We are young, and the world is ours, 
 For man is the king of the world. 
 Fools that these mystics are 
 Who prate of Nature ! but she 
 Has neither beauty, nor warmth, 
 Nor life, nor emotion, nor power. 
 o 4 
 
200 THE YOUTH OF MAN. 
 
 But Man has a thousand gifts, 
 And the generous dreamer invests 
 The senseless world with them all. 
 
 Nature is nothing ! her charm 
 Lives in our eyes which can paint, 
 Lives in our hearts which can feel h" 
 
 Thou, Nature, wert mute, 
 Mute as of old : days flew, 
 Days and years ; and Time 
 With the ceaseless stroke of his wings 
 Brush'd off the bloom from their soul. 
 Clouded and dim grew their eye ; 
 Languid their heart ; for Youth 
 Quicken'd its pulses no more. 
 Slowly within the walls 
 Of an ever-narrowing world 
 They droop'd, they grew blind, they grew old. 
 Thee and their Youth in thee, 
 Nature, they saAv no more. 
 
THE YOUTH OF MAN. 
 
 Murmur of living ! 
 Stir of existence ! 
 Soul of the world ! 
 Make, oh make yourselves felt 
 To the dying spirit of Youth. 
 Come, like the breath of the spring. 
 Leave not a human soul 
 To grow old in darkness and pain. 
 
 Only the living can feel you : 
 But leave us not while we live. 
 
 Here they stand to-night — 
 Here, where this grey balustrade 
 Crowns the still valley : behind 
 Is the castled house with its woods 
 Which shelter'd their childhood, the sun 
 On its ivied windows : a scent 
 From the grey-wall'd gardens, a breath 
 Of the fragrant stock and the pink, 
 Perfumes the evening air. 
 
 201 
 
202 THE YOUTH OF MAN. 
 
 Their children play on the lawns. 
 
 They stand and listen : they hear 
 
 The children's shouts, and, at times, 
 
 Faintly, the bark of a dog 
 
 From a distant farm in the hills : — 
 
 Nothing besides : in front 
 
 The wide, wide valley outspreads 
 
 To the dim horizon, repos'd 
 
 In the twilight, and bath'd in dew, 
 
 Corn-field and hamlet and copse 
 Darkening fast ; but a light, 
 Far off, a glory of day, 
 Still plays on the city spires : 
 And there in the dusk by the walls, 
 With the grey mist marking its course 
 Through the silent flowery land, 
 
 On, to the plains, to the sea, 
 Floats the Imperial Stream. 
 
 Well I know what they feel. 
 They gaze, and the evening wind 
 
THE YOUTH OF MAN. 203 
 
 Plays on their faces : they gaze ; 
 Airs from the Eden of Youth 
 Awake and stir in their soul : 
 The Past returns ; they feel 
 What they are, alas ! what they were. 
 They, not Nature, are chang'd. 
 Well I know what they feel. 
 
 Hush ! for tears 
 Begin to steal to their eyes. 
 Hush ! for fruit 
 Grows from such sorrow as theirs. 
 
 And they remember 
 With piercing untold anguish 
 The proud boasting of their youth. 
 
 And they feel how Nature was fair. 
 And the mists of delusion, 
 And the scales of habit, 
 Fall away from their eyes. 
 And they see, for a moment, 
 
204 THE YOUTH OF MAX. 
 
 Stretching out, like the Desert 
 In its weary, unprofitable length, 
 Their faded, ignoble lives. 
 
 While the locks are yet brown on thy head, 
 While the soul still looks through thine eyes, 
 While the heart still pours 
 The mantling blood to thy cheek, 
 
 Sink, O Youth, in thy soul ! 
 Yearn to the greatness of Nature ! 
 Rally the good in the depths of thyself ! 
 
205 
 
 A SUMMER NIGHT. 
 
 In the deserted moon-blanch'd street 
 How lonely rings the echo of my feet ! 
 Those windows, which I gaze at, frown, 
 Silent and white, un opening down, 
 Repellent as the world : — but see ! 
 A break between the housetops shows 
 The moon, and, lost behind her, fading dim 
 Into the dewy dark obscurity 
 Down at the far horizon's rim, 
 
 Doth a whole tract of heaven disclose. 
 
 And to my mind the thought 
 Is on a sudden brought 
 
206 A SUMMER NIGHT. 
 
 Of a past night, and a far different scene. 
 Headlands stood out into the moon-lit deep 
 As clearly as at noon ; 
 The spring-tide's brimming flow 
 Heav'd dazzlingly between ; 
 Houses with long white sweep 
 Girdled the glistening bay : 
 Behind, through the soft air, 
 The blue haze-cradled mountains spread 
 away. 
 That night was far more fair ; 
 But the same restless pacings to and fro, 
 And the same vainly-throbbing heart was there, 
 And the same bright calm moon. 
 
 And the calm moonlight seems to say — 
 Hast thou then still the old unquiet breast 
 That neither deadens into rest 
 Nor ever feels the fiery glow 
 That whirls the spirit from itself away. 
 
A SUMMER NIGHT. 207 
 
 But fluctuates to and fro 
 
 Never by passion quite possessed 
 
 And never quite benumb* d by the world's sway? — 
 
 And I, I know not if to pray- 
 Still to be what I am, or yield, and be 
 Like all the other men I see. 
 
 For most men in a brazen prison live, 
 Where in the sun's hot eye, 
 With heads bent o'er their toil, they languidly 
 Their lives to some unmeaning taskwork give, 
 Dreaming of nought beyond their prison wall. 
 And as, year after year, 
 Fresh products of their barren labour fall 
 From their tired hands, and rest 
 Never yet comes more near, 
 Gloom settles slowly down over their breast. 
 And while they try to stem 
 
 The waves of mournful thought by which they are 
 prest, 
 
208 A SUMMER NIGHT. 
 
 Death in their prison reaches them 
 Unfreed, having seen nothing, still unblest. 
 
 And the rest, a few, 
 Escape their prison, and depart 
 On the wide Ocean of Life anew. 
 There the freed prisoner, where'er his heart 
 Listeth, will sail ; 
 
 Nor does he know how there prevail, 
 Despotic on life's sea, 
 Trade-winds that cross it from eternitj-. 
 
 Awhile he holds some false way, undebarr'd 
 By thwarting signs, and braves 
 The freshening wind and blackening waves. 
 And then the tempest strikes him, and between 
 The lightning bursts is seen 
 Only a driving wreck, 
 
 And the pale Master on his spar-strewn deck 
 With anguish'd face and flying hair 
 Grasping the rudder hard, 
 
A SUMMER NlfJIIT. 209 
 
 Still bent to make some port he knows not where, 
 Still standing for some false impossible shore. 
 
 And sterner comes the roar 
 Of sea and wind, and through the deepening gloom 
 Fainter and fainter wreck and helmsman loom, 
 And he too disappears, and comes no more. 
 
 Is there no life, but these alone ? 
 Madman or slave, must man be one ? 
 
 Plainness and clearness without shadow of stain ! 
 Clearness divine ! 
 
 Ye Heavens, whose pure dark regions have no sign 
 Of languor, though so calm, and though so great 
 Are yet untroubled and unpassionate : 
 Who though so noble share in the world's toil, 
 And though so task'd keep free from dust and soil : 
 I will not say that your mild deeps retain 
 A tinge, it may be, of their silent pain 
 p 
 
210 A SUMMER NIGHT. 
 
 Who have long'd deeply once, and long'd in vain ; 
 But I will rather say that you remain 
 A world above man's head, to let him see 
 How boundless might his soul's horizons be, 
 How vast, yet of what clear transparency. 
 How it were good to sink there, and breathe free. 
 How fair a lot to fill 
 Is left to each man still. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 London : 
 
 A. and G. A. Spottiswoode, 
 
 New-street- Square. 
 
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A CATALOGUE 
 
 OF 
 
 NEW WORKS 
 
 IN GENERAL LITERATURE, 
 
 PUBLISHED BY 
 
 LONGMAN, BROWN, GREEN, and LONGMANS, 
 39, PATERNOSTER ROW, LONDON. 
 
 CLASSIFIED INDEX. 
 
 Agriculture and Rural Affairs. 
 
 Pages 
 Bayldon on Valuing; Rents, etc. 6 
 
 Caird's Letters on Agriculture - - - 7 
 
 Cecil's Stud Farm 7 
 
 Loudon's Encyclopaedia of Agriculture - 14 
 
 ,, Self-Instruction for Farmers, etc. 14 
 
 ,, (Mrs.) Lady'sCountry Companion 14 
 
 Low's Elements of Agriculture - - 15 
 
 „ Domesticated Animals - - - 14 
 
 Arts, Manufactures, and 
 Architecture. 
 
 Bourne's Catechism of the Steam Engine 
 
 On the Screw Propeller - 
 Brande's Dictionary of Science, etc. 
 Chevreul on Colour - 
 Cresy's Encyclo. of Civil Engineering 
 Eastiake on Oil Tainting - 
 Gwilt's Eueyclop.-ediaot Architecture 
 Jameson's Sacred and Legendary Art 
 
 „ Commonplace Book 
 Loudon's Rural Architecture - 
 Moseley's Engineering and Architecture 
 Richardson's Art of Horsemanship - 
 Steam Engine, by the Artisan Club 
 Tate on Strength of Materials 
 Ure's Dictionary of Arts, etc. 
 
 Biography. 
 
 Arago's Autobiography - 
 Bodenstedt and Wagner's Schamyl 
 Brightwell's Memorials of Opie 
 Bunsen's Hippolytus - 
 
 Chesterton's Autobiography - 
 Clinton's (Fynes) Autobiography - 
 Cockayne's Marshal Turenue - 
 Freeman's Life of Kirby ... 
 Haydon's Autobiography, by Taylor 
 Hoicroft's Memoirs 
 Holland's (Lord) Memoirs 
 Lardner's Cabinet Cyclopjedia 
 Maunder's Biographical Treasury . 
 Memoir of the Duke of Wellington 
 Memoirs of James Montgomery 
 Merivale's Memoirs of Cicero 
 Russell's Memoirs of Moore - 
 
 Pages 
 Russell's Life of Lord William Russell - 19 
 
 Southey's Life of Wesley 
 
 ,, Life and Correspondence 
 
 Stephen's Ecclesiastical Biography 
 
 Taylor's Lovola - 
 
 „ Wesley 
 
 Townsend's Eminent Judges • 
 
 Waterton's Autobiography and Essays - 
 
 Books of General Utility. 
 
 Acton's Modern Cookery Book 
 Black's Treatise on Brewiug - 
 Cabinet Gazetteer - 
 
 ,, Lawyer .... 
 
 Cust's Invalid's Own Book 
 Hints on Etiquette - 
 Hudson's Executor's Guide 
 On Making Wills 
 Lardner's Cabinet Cyclopaedia - 
 Loudon's Self Instruction 
 
 ,, Lady's Companion 
 
 ,, (Mrs.) Amateur Gardener 
 Maunder's Treasury of Knowledge 
 
 ,, Biographical Treasury - 
 
 ,, Scientific Treasury 
 
 ,, Treasury of History 
 
 ,, Natural History 
 
 Pocket and the Stud ... 
 
 Pycroft's English Reading 
 Reece's Medical Guide - 
 Rich's Companion to Latin Dictionary 
 j Riddle's Latin Dictionaries 
 Richardson's Art of Horsemanship 
 Roget's English Thesaurus 
 Rowton's Debater - 
 Short Whist ..... 
 Thomson's InterestTables 
 Traveller's Library ... 
 
 Webster's Domestic Economy 
 Willich's Popular Tables 
 Wilmot's Abridgment of Blackstone's 
 Commentaries ... 
 
 Botany and Gardening. 
 
 Conventions on Botany ... 
 
 HookeVfe British Flora .... 
 ,, Guide to Kew Gardens 
 
 London: Printed by M. Mason, Ivy Lane, Paternoster Row. 
 
CLASSIFIED INDEX. 
 
 Page 
 
 Lindley's Introduction to Botany 
 
 „ Theory of Horticulture - - »* 
 
 Loudon's Hortu'sBritannicus - - 14 
 
 ,, (Mrs.) Amateur Gardener - 14 
 
 Self-Instruction for Gardeners 14 
 
 Encyclopcediaof Trees & Shrubs 14 
 
 ., Gardening - 14 
 
 ;; " Plants - -14 
 
 Rivers's Rose Amateur's Guide - -19 
 
 Chronology. 
 
 Blair's Chronological Tables - - - fi 
 
 Bunseu's Ancient Egypt - - 7 
 
 Haydn's Beatson's Index - - - " 'V 
 
 Nicolas's Chronology of History - - 12 
 
 Commerce and Mercantile 
 Affairs. 
 
 Atkinson's Shipping Laws - j> 
 
 Francis On Life Assurance - » 
 
 Loch's Sailor's Guide - - ",.",, 
 Lorimer's Letters tuaYoungMasterManuer 14 
 M'Culloch's Commerce and Navigation - la 
 Thomsou's Interest Tables . - - 22 
 
 Criticism, History, and 
 Memoirs. 
 
 Smith's Sacred Annals 
 Southey'sThe Doctor etc. - 
 Stephen's Ecclesiastical Biography 
 
 ,, Lectures on French History - 
 
 Sydney Smith's Works ■ 
 
 " 'lect Works 
 
 Paces 
 - 21 
 
 ,. Lectures ou Moral Philosophy 21 
 
 Taylor's I.orola 22 
 
 .. Wesley 22 
 
 Thirl wall 's Historyof Greece - 
 Townsend's State Trials - 
 Turkey and Christendom 
 Turner's Anglo-Saxons - 
 
 ,, Middle Ages 
 ,, Sacred History of the World 
 Zumpt's Latin Grammar - 
 
 Geography and Atlases. 
 
 Austin's Germany - 
 Balfour's Sketches of Literature - 
 Blair's Chrou. and Historical Tables 
 Bunsen's Ancient Egypt 
 
 ,, Hippolytus - - - - 
 
 . Burton's History of Scotland - 
 
 ' Chalvbaeus's Speculative Philosophy - 
 Convbeare and Howson's St. Paul - 
 East'lake's History of Oil Painting 
 Erskine's History of India - 
 Francis's Annals of Life Assurance 
 Gleig's Leipsic Cainpaiun 
 Gurnev's Historical Sketches - 
 Hamilton's Discussions in Philosophy, etc. 
 I Haydon's Autobiography, by Taylor 
 Holland's (Lord) Foreign Reminiscences 
 
 „ „ Whig Party - 
 
 Jeffrey's (Lord) Contributions 
 : Kemble's Anglo-Saxons in England 
 1 Lardner's Cabinet Cyclopaedia 
 Macaulay's Crit. and Hist. Essays - 
 ,, History of England 
 
 ,, Speeches - 
 
 Mackintosh's Miscellaneous Works 
 
 ,, Historyof F'nglaud 
 
 M'Culloch's Geographical Dictionary - 
 Martineau's Church History - 
 
 Maunder's Treasury of History 
 Memoir of the Duke of Wellington 
 Merivale's History of Rome - 
 
 ,, Roman Republic 
 
 Miluer's Church History ... 
 
 Moore's (Thomas) Memoirs, etc. - 
 Mare's Greek Literature - 
 
 Ranke's Ferdinand and Maximilian - 
 Rich's Companion to Latin Dictionary - 
 Riddle's Latin Dictionaries 
 Rogers's Essays from Edinburgh Review 
 Roget's English Thesaurus - 
 Russell's (i-ady Rachel) Letters - 
 
 „ Life of Lord William Russell - 
 St. John's Indian Archipelago 
 Schmitz's History of Greece - 
 
 Butler's Geography and Atlases 
 Cabinet Gazetteer - 
 Durrieu's Morocco - - - - 
 Hall's Large Library Atlas 
 Huuhes's Australian Colonies - 
 Jesse's Russia and the War - 
 Johnston's General Gazetteer 
 M'Culloch's Geographical Dictionary 
 
 ,, Russia and Turkey 
 
 Milner's Baltic Sea 
 Murray's K.ncyclopiedia of Geography 
 Sharp's British Gazetteer ' - 
 Wheeler's Geography of Herodotus 
 
 Juvenile Books. 
 
 Amy Herbert ------ 20 
 
 Corner's Children's Sunday Book - 8 
 
 Earl's Daughter (The) - 20 
 
 Experience of Life ----- 20 
 
 Gertrude ------ 20 
 
 Howitt's Bov's Country Book - - - 11 
 
 „ (Mary) Children's Year - - 11 
 
 Katharine Ashton - - 20 
 
 Lady Una and her Queendom - - - 12 
 
 Laneton Parsonage - - - 20 
 Mrs. Marcet's Conversations - - 15 & 16 
 
 Margaret Percival ----- 20 
 
 Pycroft's English Reading - - - 19 
 
 Medicine and Surgery. 
 
 Bull's Hints to Mothers ... 6 
 
 ,, Management of Children 6 
 
 Copland's Dictionary of Medicine - 8 
 
 Cust's Invalid's Own Book - 8 
 
 Holland's Mental Physiology - - - 10 
 
 Latham On Diseases of the "Heart - - 12 
 
 Little on Treatment of Deformities - 14 
 
 Moore On Health, Disease, and Remedy - 17 
 
 Pereira On Food and Diet - - - 1> 
 
 Psychological Inquiries - - - Is 
 Reece's Medical Guide .... 
 
 Miscellaneous and General 
 Literature. 
 
 Atkinson's Sheriff Law 5 
 
 Austin's Sketches of German Life - 5 
 
 Carlisle's Lectures and Addresses - - 23 
 
 Chalybaeus's Speculative Philosophy - 8 
 
 Defence of Eelipte of Faith - - - 9 
 
 Eclipse of Faith ----- 8 
 Greg's Essays on Political and Social 
 
 Science ----- 9 
 
to .Messrs. LONGMAN and Co.'s CATALOGUE. 
 
 Pages 
 
 Havdn's Book of Dignities - 10 
 
 Hole's Essav on Mechanics' Institutions 11) 
 
 Holland's Mental Physiology - - - 1<> 
 
 Hooker's Kew Guide - - - - Id 
 
 Howitt's Rural Life of England - - 11 
 
 ,, Visits to Remarkable Places - 11 
 
 Jameson's Commonplace Book - - IS 
 
 I Jeffrey's (Lord) Contributions - - IS 
 
 i Last of the Old Squires - Is 
 
 | Loudon's Lady's Country Companion - 14 
 
 Macaulay's Critical and Historical Essays la 
 
 ,, Speeches • - 15 
 
 Mackintosh's (Sir J.) Miscellaneous Works IS 
 
 Memoirs of a Maitre d'Armes . . 23 
 
 Maitland's Church in the Catacombs - 16 
 
 Pascal's Works, bv Pearce - - » 18 
 
 Pycroft'8 English Reading - - - lfl 
 
 Rich's Companion to Latin Dictionary - 1!> 
 
 Riddle's Latin Dictionaries ... |9 
 
 Rnwton's Debater - - - - 19 
 
 Seaward'.-: Xarrat ive of his Shipwreck - 20 
 
 Sir Roger l)e Coverlev - - • 21 
 
 Smith's (Rev. Syd m ■>•') Works - . 21 
 
 Southey's Common Place Books - -21 
 
 ,, The Doctor etc. - - - 23 
 
 Souvestre's Attic Philosopher - - S3 
 
 ,, Confessions of a VV'orking Man 23 
 
 Stephen's Essays ----- 21 
 
 Stow's Training System - - - 21 
 
 Thomson's Outline of the LawsofThought 22 
 
 Townscnd's State Trials - 22 
 
 Willich's Popular Tales ... 24 
 
 rouge's English Creek Lexicon - - 2-i 
 
 ,, Latin GrAdus - - 2-4 
 
 Zuinpt's Latin G 
 
 Natural History in General. 
 
 Catlow's Popular Conchology - 
 Ephemera and Young on the Salmon 
 Gosse's Natural History of Jamaica 
 Kemp's Natural History of Creation 
 Kirby and Speuce's Entomology 
 Lee's Elements of Natural History 
 Maundcr's Treasury of Natural History - 
 Turton's Shells of the British Islands 
 Waterton's Essays on Natural History - 
 Youatt'sThe Dog ..... 
 ,, The Horse .... 
 
 1-Volume Encyclopaedias and 
 Dictionaries. 
 
 Blaine's Rural Sports - - . . g 
 
 Brande's Science, Literature, and Art - 6 
 
 Copland's Dictionary of Medicine 8 
 
 Cresy's Civil Engineering - . . g 
 
 Gwilt'8 Architecture -« - . y 
 
 Johnston's Geographical Dictionary - 12 
 
 Loudon's Agriculture - 14 
 
 ,, Rural Architecture - - 14 
 
 ,, Gardening .... 14 
 
 ,, Plants - - - _ . 14 
 
 „ Trees and Shrubs - 14 
 
 M'Culloch's Geographical Dictionary - 15 
 
 ,, Dictionary of Commerce - IS 
 
 Murray'sF.ncyi lops-diaof Geography - 17 
 
 Sharp's British Gazetteer - - 20 
 
 Lire's Dictionary of Arts, etc.- . - 24 
 
 Webster's Domestic Economy - - 24 
 
 Religious and Moral Works. 
 
 Amy Herbert ------ 2(1 
 
 Atkinso 1 the Church 5 
 
 Bloomfield'sGreek Testaments 6 
 
 ,, Annotations on ditto 6 
 
 Calvert's Wife's Manual 
 Conybeare and Howson's St. Paul - 
 Corner's Sunday Book - 
 Dale's Domestic Liturgy 
 Defence of Eclipse 0/ Faith - 
 Discipline - 
 
 Pages ! 
 
 - 8 I 
 
 - 9 
 
 Karl's Daughter (The) - 
 Eclipse of Fa'"" 
 
 pse ot r'aith 
 Englishman's Greek Concordance - 
 
 Heb. and Chald. Concord. 
 Experience of Life (The) . - _ 
 
 Gertrude - 
 
 Harrison's Light of the Forge 
 Hook's (Dr.) Lectures on Passion Week 
 Home's Introduction to Scriptures 
 
 •1 Abridgment of ditto 
 
 Buloert on Job - 
 
 Jameson's Sacred Legends - 
 H Monastic Legends - 
 
 „ Legends of the Madonna 
 
 Jeremy Taylor's Works - - - - 
 Katharine Ashton - - - - . 
 Kippis's Hymns - 
 Lady Una and her Queendom 
 Laneton Parsonage - - - . . 
 Letters to My Unknown Friends - 
 
 11 on Happiness - 
 Litton's Church of Christ 
 Maitland's Church in the Catacombs 
 Margaret Percival - 
 
 Martineau's Church History - - . 
 Milner's Church of Christ ' . - . 
 Montgomery's Original Ilvmns 
 Moore On the Use of the body 
 
 11 ,, Soul and Body 
 
 it 's Man and his Motives 
 Mormouism ----._ 
 Neale's Closing Scene - - - I 
 
 „ Resting Places of the Just - '. 
 
 „ Riches that bring no Sorrow 
 
 ,, Risen from the Ranks - 
 Newman's (J. H.) Discourses - 
 Ranke's Ferdinand and Maximilian 
 Readings for Lent - 
 
 ., Confirmation ... 
 
 Robinson's Lexicon to the Greek Testa- 
 ment ---___ 
 Saints our Example - - - . 
 Self- Denial ... 
 
 Sermon on the Mount - 
 „. " . , >> illuminated - 
 
 Sinclair's Journey of Life - 
 
 Smith's (Sydney) Moral Philosophy 
 
 if ((».) Sacred Annals - 
 Southey's Life of Wesley 
 Stephen's (Sir J.) Ecclesiastical Biography 
 Taylor's Loyola - . ° r - 
 
 Wesley - . . . ~ 
 Theologia Germanica ..." on 
 Thumb Bible (The) . - . ~_ ~~ 
 
 Turner's Sacred History ~ aj 
 
 Poetry and the Drama. 
 
 Arnold's Poems - 
 
 Aikiu's (Dr.) British Poets 
 
 Baiilie's (Joanna) Poetical Works - 
 
 Barter's Iliad of Homer - 
 
 Bode's Ballads from Herodotus 
 
 Calvert's Wife's Manual 
 
 Flowers and their Kindred Thoughts 
 
 Goldsmith's Poems, illustrated 
 
 K tilt's Aletheia . 
 
 Kippis's Hvmns .... 
 
 L. E . L.'s Poetical Works 
 
CLASSIFIED INDEX. 
 
 Linwood's Anthologia Oxoniensis - 
 Macaulav's L*y« Ol \ncient Rome - 
 Montgomery's Poetical Works 
 „ Ori./iiml Hymns 
 
 Moore's Poetical Works - 
 
 ,, Leila Rnokh ... 
 
 ,, Irish Helndie* * 
 
 ,, Bonn 'Tui ifctilads 
 Shakspeare. Iiv dowdier - - - 
 
 ,. 's Sentiments and Similes 
 
 Southey'sPocti. :•.! Works 
 
 ,, British I'o'-rs ■ 
 
 Thomson's Seasons, illustrated 
 Thornton's Zohrab 
 Watts's Lvrics of the Heart - 
 
 Political Economy & Statistics. 
 
 Banfield's Statistical Companion 6 
 
 Caird's Letters on Agriculture 7 
 
 Francis on Life Assurance - - - 9 
 Greg's Kssays on Political and Social 
 
 Science .----- 9 
 
 Laing's Notes of a Traveller - - 12 & 23 
 
 M'Culloch's Geographical Dictionary - 16 
 
 ,, Dictionary of Commerce - 15 
 
 „ London - - ... 23 
 
 ,, Statistics of the British Empire 15 
 
 Marcet's Political Kconomy - - -16 
 
 Willich's Popular Tables - 24 
 
 The Sciences in General and 
 Mathematics. 
 
 Arago's Works ..... 5 
 
 Bourne's Catechism of the Steam Engine 6 
 
 „ on the Screw Propeller . - 6 
 
 Brande's Dictionary of Science, etc. - 6 
 
 ,, Lectures on Organic Chemistry 6 
 
 j Cresy's Civil Engineering ... 8 
 
 • DelaBeche's Geology ot Cornwall, etc. 8 
 
 ,, 's Geological Observer - - 8 
 
 ! De la Rive's Electricity S 
 
 J Faraday's Non-Metallic Elements 9 
 
 Fullom's Marvels of Science 9 
 
 Herschel's Outlines of Astronomy - - 10 
 
 Holland's Mental Physiology - - 10 
 
 Humboldt's Aspects of Nature - - 11 
 
 „ Cosmos - - 11 
 
 j Hunt's Researches on Light - - - 11 
 
 ' Lardner's Cabinet Cyclopedia - - 13 
 
 Marcet's (Mrs.) Conversations - 15 & 16 
 
 j Moseley's Engineering and Architecture 17 
 
 I Owen's Lectures on Comparative Anatomy 18 
 
 Our Coal Fields and our Coal Pits - -23 
 
 Peschel's Elements of Phvsics - - IS 
 
 Phillips's Fossils of Cornwall, etc. - 18 
 
 „ Mineralogy - - . 18 
 
 ,, Guide to Geology - - - 18 
 
 Portlock's Geology of Londonderry - 18 
 
 Smee's Klectro-Metallurgy ... 21 
 
 Steam Engine, by the Artisan Club - 6 
 
 Tate on Strength of Materials - - 22 
 
 Todd's Tables of Circles - 22 
 
 Wilson's Electricity and the Electric 
 
 Telegraph 23 
 
 Rural Sports.' 
 
 Baker's Rifle and Hound in Ceylon 
 Berkeley's Reminiscences 
 Blaine's Dictionary ot Sports 
 Cecil's Stable Practice • 
 „ Records of the Chase • 
 
 Pages 
 
 Cecil's Stud Farm ... 
 The Cricket Field -"-""* 
 
 K.phemera on Angling - - - • 9 
 
 ,, 's Book of the Salmon - - 9 
 
 The Hunting Field .... 10 
 
 Loudon's Lady's Country Companion - 14 
 
 Pocket and the Stud - - - - 10 
 
 Practical Horsemanship - . - - 1C 
 
 Pulman's Fly-Fishing .... IS 
 
 Richardson's Horsemanship - - 19 
 
 St. John's Sporting Rambles - - 19 
 
 Stable Talk and Table Talk - - - 10 
 
 Stonehenge on the Grevhound ■ - 22 
 
 The Stud, for PracticalPurposes - - 10 
 
 Veterinary Medicine, etc. 
 
 Cecil's Stable Practice .... 8 
 
 ,, Stud Farm ----- 7 
 
 The Hunting Field ----- 10 
 
 Morton's Veterinary Pharmacy - - 17 
 
 Pocket and the Stud - 10 
 
 Practical Horsemanship - ... 10 
 
 Richardson's Horsemanship - - - 19 
 
 Stable Talk and Table Talk - - - 10 
 
 The Stud for Practical Purposes - - 10 
 
 Youatt's The Dog - - - - 24 
 
 The Horse .... 24 
 
 Voyages and Travels. 
 
 Baker's Rifle and Hound in Ceylon - 5 
 
 Barrow's Continental Tour - - - 23 
 
 Carlisle's Turkey and Greece 7 
 
 De Custine's Russia - - - - 23 
 
 Eothen 23 
 
 Ferguson's Swiss Men and Mountains - 23 
 
 Forester and Biddulph's Norway • - 9 
 
 Girouiere's Philippines - * 23 
 
 Hill's Travel sin Siberia .... 10 
 
 Hope's Brittany and the Bible - - - 23 
 
 ,, Chase in Brittany - - - 23 
 
 Howitt's Art Student in Munich - - 11 
 
 Hue's Tartary, Thibet, and China - - 23 
 
 Hughes's Australian Colonies - - - 23 
 
 Humbley's Indian Journal - • - 11 
 
 Humboldt's Aspects of Nature - - 11 
 
 Jameson's Canada ----- 23 
 
 Jerrmann's Pictures from St. Petersburg 23 
 
 Laing's Norway ..... 23 
 
 ,, Notes of a Traveller - - 12 & 
 Macintosh's Turkey and Black Sea - 
 Miles' Rambles in Iceland - - - 
 Oldmixon's Piccadilly to Peru - 
 
 Osborn's Arctic Journal - 18 
 
 Peel's Nubian Desert .... 18 
 Pfeiffer's Voyage round the World - 
 Power's New Zealand Sketches 
 
 Richardson's Arctic Boat Voyage - - 19 
 
 Seaward's Narrative of his Shipwreck - 20 
 St. John's (H.) Indian Archipelago 
 
 „ (J. A.) Isis --. 19 
 
 ,, ,, There and Back again 20 
 
 (Hon.F.) Rambles - 19 
 
 Sutherland's Arctic Voyage - - 22 
 
 Traveller's Library - . . -23 
 
 Werne's African Wanderings - 
 
 Works of Fiction. 
 
 Arnold's Oakfield 
 Lady Willoughbv's Diary 
 Macdonald's Villa Verocchio 
 Sir Roger De Coverley 
 Southey'sThe Doctor etc. 
 
 - 5 
 
 - 24 
 
 - 15 
 
 - 21 
 
 - 21 
 
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