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ELEUSIS 
 
 AND LESSER POEMS 
 
ELEUSIS 
 
 AND LESSER POEMS 
 
 WILLIAM RUFUS PERKINS 
 
 oZSe fx-ev filov Tekevrdv, 
 oldev 5e 8io<t8otov apxa.v, 
 
 PINDAE. 
 
 5 1892 
 
 A. C. McCLURG AND COMPANY L ? / tf V 
 
 1 fiQO / 
 
 CHICAGO 
 
 1892 
 
"p$*SA* 
 
 Copyright 
 
 By A. C. McClurg and Co. 
 
 a.d. 1892. 
 
Qctiicatrt to 
 WILLIAM H. SAGE 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 ELEUSIS : page 
 
 Canto 1 9 
 
 Canto II 51 
 
 Canto III 93 
 
 LESSER POEMS: 
 
 A Legend of the Hartz 153 
 
 Bellerophon 165 
 
 The Secret of May 179 
 
 Hadrian's Lament over Antinous . . 182 
 
 A Vision of Love 187 
 
 The Double Birthday '194 
 
 Flower Songs 198 
 
 Whatever the World May Bring . . 201 
 
 A June Day's Sailing 203 
 
 The Battle of Lake Erie 209 
 
 Song 213 
 
 Greek Chorus 215 
 
ELEUSIS 
 
Eleusis mourns beside the sea, 
 
 Her secret pomp of worship fled ; 
 But, though her priest and rite be dead, 
 
 Still lives the Eternal Mystery. 
 
 Nor can the Eleusinia die: 
 
 What though the centuries wax and wane, 
 From each new age sounds out again 
 
 The Eternal Questioning, Whence and Why f 
 
CANTO I. 
 
PRELUDE. 
 
 O Life ! resplendent breaks thy morn ; 
 And Youth speeds on with rosy lip, 
 From brimming bowls of joy to sip, 
 
 Or empty Pleasure's drinking-horn. 
 
 O'er sunny plains, by singing streams, 
 Through years that seem a holiday, 
 He flies, hope-pinioned, on his way 
 
 Toward the palace of his dreams. 
 
 At morn a child, the noon-tide sun 
 
 On limbs more stalwart looketh down ; 
 And soon his setting glories crown 
 
 A staff-supported skeleton. 
 
 The silent halls one more receive, 
 
 To swell their store of voiceless guests ; 
 The heir is master of bequests, 
 
 And even Love forgets to grieve. 
 
io Eleusis 
 
 A play whose acts but triply change, 
 And progress simple to its close ; 
 Yet more than triply charged with woes, 
 
 And grief's broad range and counter-range. 
 
 And what beyond ? Does Death o'errule 
 The vanished genius of the clay, 
 Dissolve the soul, and one decay 
 
 Embrace philosopher and fool ? 
 
 Such doubts and problems haunt the brain, 
 In youth or age of every man ; 
 And, stifle them as best we can, 
 
 They press insistent back again. 
 
 Their ghostly spectres mock and frown; 
 No Nostradamus knows the spell, 
 Nor book nor wise exorcist's bell 
 
 Can thrust their taunting phantoms down. 
 
 Oh, how above the funeral urn 
 
 Their pinions hover ; and we feel, 
 As tears their deepest founts unseal, 
 
 That life is mystery to its kern ! 
 
Eleusis 1 1 
 
 Their solemn silence bringeth fear, 
 
 And passionate will kneels clown in dread ; 
 
 For, standing by the sleeping dead, 
 TVe know eternal forms are near. 
 
 It may be bootless task, in sooth, 
 To grapple with diviner things, 
 Proclaim us priests as well as kings, 
 
 And seek the mystic source of Truth, 
 
 Yet fly the search and shirk the test ! 
 
 In flight, contentment who can find ? 
 
 The deeper yearnings of the mind 
 Cannot be lightly lulled to rest. 
 
 If life be fate, if worlds advance 
 Self -driven on their axles steep, 
 Our lives are accidents, we leap 
 
 At dying to the arms of chance, — 
 
 Then joy and pain are phantoms too; 
 
 To love is sweet illusive spell ; 
 
 And all the thoughts that surge and swell 
 Within our souls, are most untrue. 
 
12 Eleusis 
 
 So life were false, and hope a lie ; 
 The higher life for which we long 
 Only a mocking siren-song 
 
 To lure and lead us on to die. 
 
 Life, to me thyself sublime ; 
 Reveal me why I came to be, 
 And let my soul, though dimly, see 
 
 The secret horoscope of Time ! 
 
CANTO I. 
 
 i. 
 
 No wheel may turn forever round, 
 Nor bell forever strike and swing : 
 The broken bell will cease to ring, 
 
 The wheel lie prostrate on the ground. 
 
 The wearing waste of hopes and fears 
 Unwinds the primal spring of power, 
 And action weakening hour by hour 
 
 In slow suspension disappears. 
 
 And so, grim cup, wherein some brain 
 
 Has seethed and boiled with burning thought, 
 And to excess of mastery brought, 
 
 Was quick to measure loss and gain, 
 
 Power's supremest mock and mime, 
 Life's palace now forgotten urn ! 
 For thee no more the wheel will turn, — 
 
 The bell has rung its dying chime. 
 
14 Eleusis 
 
 Yet whither gone, O Soul ? Whence sprung 
 Thy mighty mastery of the past ? 
 Dost wander homeless, or at last 
 
 Indwell the countries of the sun ? 
 
 Or, is this all, — these empty eyes, 
 
 This mockery grim of life's fair prime ? 
 Is this the consummate fruit of Time, 
 
 And the proud heirdom of the wise ? 
 
Eleusis 15 
 
 11. 
 
 Alas for him whose harp outrung 
 
 The first low minor-chord of doubt, 
 And gave that bitter keynote out 
 
 Whereto uncounted souls have sung. 
 
 Alas for him who, out of tune 
 
 With the young earth's clear-voiced refrain, 
 Made tears the burden of his strain, 
 
 And saw a clouded sky at noon. 
 
 Alas for him ! Alas for me, 
 
 Who am the heir of his emprise ! 
 
 For heirdom lives, though lordship dies, 
 
 And doubt entails an endless fee. 
 
 Thus cycles turning round and round, 
 And years to centuries growing fast, 
 From out the dim and vista'd past 
 
 Tumultuous voices louder sound. 
 
j 6 Eleusis 
 
 'Till, ringing from the earth and sky, 
 The wide world heareth only this : 
 < Death ruleth Life ; Life's fuller bliss 
 Is Sleep, — its fullest, swift to die.' 
 
Eleusis 17 
 
 jii. 
 
 O HAUNTING image of my age, 
 
 That risest with me in the morn, 
 And saith with evening voice of scorn, 
 6 Come clasp me, and thy love assuage ! ' 
 
 baffling Love, whose mocking eyes 
 
 From pools of searchings deep are seen, 
 Or where high mountain-turrets lean 
 Standest depict against the skies, — 
 
 1 long for thee ; my heart aflame 
 
 No other bride or mistress knows : 
 Yet on my waning century goes, 
 And longing cannot crown its aim. 
 
 Yet cries my heart, ' Whate'er may come, 
 
 I will thy perfect contours hold, 
 
 And to my passion shall unfold 
 
 The lips that hitherto are dumb ; 
 2 
 
18 Eleusis 
 
 4 What though the vaulted heaven fall, 
 
 What though my soul go down to death,- 
 To feel for once the eternal breath 
 Will be rich guerdon for it all ! ' 
 
Eleusis 19 
 
 IV. 
 
 broader scope of life, divined 
 By only those whose gaze intense 
 Surmounts the barriers set by sense, 
 
 And passes what has been defined ; 
 
 O wide conception leaping o'er 
 
 The bounds that earlier knowledge gave, 
 What though the fearful feebly rave 
 
 And cry, ' Oh, tarry on the shore '; 
 
 And what though many a wreck decays 
 By deep divining's boundless sea, 
 Where many a tempest's full degree 
 
 Proud launched convoys disarrays ; 
 
 All travellers pass through dangerous lands, 
 Or risk the storms of treacherous seas ; 
 All gain is bought by loss of ease, 
 
 And glory yields to daring hands. 
 
20 Eleusis 
 
 To Doric moods the sails are set, 
 
 And songs pursue the vessel's keel, 
 And far horizons half reveal 
 
 Mist-shrouded tower and parapet. 
 
 And Mystery's deep enchantment falls 
 
 From slumbrous depths of sapphire sky 
 And Hope uprears a fabric high 
 
 Behind the heights of unknown walls. 
 
 Across the soul's responsive strings 
 
 The touch of heavenly music sweeps, 
 And my intensest ardor leaps 
 
 To reach the inmost heart of things. 
 
 Then onward fly, O bark, from shore ; 
 
 Before, behind, is due acclaim ; 
 
 I go to win a deathless name, 
 Or die as others died before ! 
 
Eleusis 21 
 
 v. 
 
 Yet what the silence of the dark 
 In vaulted cavern dim and deep, 
 Where Echo, Echo lies asleep, 
 
 And Fear forgets to whisper ' Hark ! ' 
 
 Or what the silence of the peak 
 
 Surmounting wastes of barren plain, 
 Or that of yon debateless main 
 
 Whose rigid secrets none can speak ; 
 
 Aye, what are these to yonder track 
 
 Where Silence shrieks, ' Tis I, 'Tis I ! 
 I watch the centuries wax and die, 
 
 And hear the wheels go slipping back. 
 
 1 From agony my voice is born ; 
 
 My earthly sisters all are dumb ; 
 Afar I see new races come 
 To perish 'neath the heel of scorn ; 
 
22 Eleusis 
 
 4 Yet what I know I cannot tell ; 
 
 My realm divides all time in twain ; 
 And whether life grows life again, 
 My lips are powerless to foretell.' 
 
 No traveller walks that border shore, 
 
 And thence returns with pilgrim song, 
 With foreign lays and stories long, 
 
 And robes that strangers wove and wore ; 
 
 But he who goes repairs not thence ; 
 
 The speechless cycles turn and turn : 
 
 Our only solace is an urn, 
 And Memory's poignant recompense. 
 
Eleusis 23 
 
 VI. 
 
 Axd so my heart and hope grows weak, 
 And life's fate-flung contemptuous boon 
 Is dawn that blights before the noon, 
 
 Or child that does not live to speak. 
 
 Are years so sweet that toil and pain 
 Should buy the few we linger here ? 
 Or life within this hemisphere 
 
 As sweet as bitter its disdain? 
 
 But passion lives though potence die, 
 And love of life lives longer still ; 
 ' Oh Fortune, treat me as ye will. 
 But let me live ! ' the ages sigh. 
 
 Yet weariness is near to rest, 
 
 And suffering ofttimes bringeth sleep ; 
 
 So I, although to-day I weep, 
 Perhaps hereafter may be blest. 
 
24 Eleusis 
 
 vn. 
 
 Yet restless Thought, with straining eye, 
 And borne at Will's implacate need 
 Above the citadels of creed 
 
 Where undisturbed horizons lie, 
 
 Spies out through distance dim and vast 
 Life's broad expanse of sombre sea, 
 Whose billows touch the same degree 
 
 As in the countless centuries past. 
 
 To swell it myriad streamlets haste, 
 And out it myriad streamlets go, 
 In ceaseless counterpoise of flow 
 
 And ceaseless weaving up of waste. 
 
 Now here, now there, the subtle stream, 
 And now returning whence it came, 
 Sweeps through my heart and wakes to fame, 
 
 Or thrills the rose with joy supreme. 
 
Eleusis 25 
 
 Wrapped thus in life's more fleeting flood, 
 The true and deathless life lives on ; 
 That which hath made me paragon, 
 
 And of the gods decayless blood. 
 
 For, held and prisoned by some power, 
 Within this life the truer dwells, 
 'Till heavenly sign and dial tells 
 
 The full and free and destined hour. 
 
 The oneness making what we are, 
 
 The eternal stamp that gives me form ; 
 No shock of elemental storm, 
 
 No crash of planet meeting star, 
 
 No blotting out of sun and moon, 
 No chaos boundless and profound, 
 Can slay : in chaos I am found, 
 
 For I am night and I am noon. 
 
26 Eleusis 
 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Yet, Memory lost, thy latest heir 
 
 Demands thy urns that border time, 
 Thy cenotaphs in clime on clime, 
 
 Thy earlier joyance or despair. 
 
 That palimpsest unfold to-day, 
 
 And 'neath the lately written lines 
 Read out my lineage from the signs 
 
 Whose deeper mystery says me nay. 
 
 No answer comes ; or if reply 
 
 Floats echoing through my pillar'd hall, 
 Its wordless echoes rise and fall, 
 
 Approach and voiceless hasten by ; 
 
 They waste, they wane ; my halls of thought 
 Disperse the strain that once was song, 
 And sadly Silence floats along 
 
 To mock with mystery what was sought. 
 
Eleusis 27 
 
 For 'mid my labyrinth rooms that ring 
 With each its own responsive tone, 
 The true refrain grows quite unknown 
 
 That somewhere heavenly voices sing ; 
 
 Or, swelled by Nature's echoing throat, 
 Betrays its birthright, and with lies 
 Deceives, dissuades, destroys, denies, 
 
 With false and yet enchanting note. 
 
 For I who hear am he who sings ; 
 
 And what is sung, that too is Me ; 
 
 For I am one and yet am three, — 
 The listener, singer, and the strings. 
 
 And all in self ; yet cannot tell 
 
 What strains I hear, or if I sang, 
 Or what the notes, or how they rang 
 
 From out my mad musician's cell. 
 
 And so I circle round and round, 
 
 And paths once trod again I tread ; 
 For life is life, though men be dead, 
 
 And death is — failing to be found. 
 
28 Eleusis 
 
 IX. 
 
 For life has orbit more immense 
 
 Than swiftest comets overfly ; 
 
 We pass this human orbit by, 
 And slide from out this arc of sense, 
 
 And passing onward in my round, 
 As one who coasts a foreign shore 
 Sees strange growths never seen before 
 
 And races hitherto unfound, 
 
 So I shall see what is unseen ; 
 
 And, casting arc and arc behind, 
 
 My more and more enfranchised mind 
 
 Shall learn what present mysteries mean ; 
 
 High tides shall roll where shallows lay, 
 And desert lands grow rich with bloom, 
 And mountain peaks whose summits loom 
 
 To dim the rising of the day, 
 
Eleusis 2g 
 
 Shall sink beneath my upward wing 
 
 That mounts the eternal vault of Truth 
 "With fresh and growing sense of youth 
 
 And the strong ardor of the Spring. 
 
jo Eleusis 
 
 Yet is there something still untraced : 
 Some link that hides its magic gold, — 
 Some bnd whose petals still enfold 
 
 Their secret, — forces yet displaced. 
 
 Oh, could we see where closely press 
 The arcs of being, could we stand 
 Where sliding down from either hand 
 
 They meet and closely coalesce, 
 
 Then Doubt at last were doubly dead ; 
 And my new orbit, cloudless grown, 
 Would sweep thro' Truth's imperial zone,- 
 
 Eternal sunshine overhead. 
 
 But darkness now encumbers all, 
 And silence answers to my cry; 
 The heights of thought my wings defy, 
 
 Yet lure me onward till I fall. 
 
Eleusis 31 
 
 Beneath the peaks of pure desire 
 I lie in helpless longing low, 
 And feel a dull resentment grow 
 
 To burn my being with its fire. 
 
 With bruise'c! heart, with broken wing, 
 My purpose countervailed by fate, 
 I scorn the low, I loathe the great, 
 
 And every seen and imseen thing. 
 
32 Beusis 
 
 XI. 
 
 O struggling Soul ! thy heirdom thrills 
 With hope that maddens, then denies ; 
 ' I am thy love ! ' the phantom cries, 
 And then with treacherous scorning kills. 
 
 Move onward, Soul, within thy round, 
 
 Nor strive the eternal springs to quaff ; 
 The Gods at high aspirers laugh, 
 
 And will is left an hour unbound ; 
 
 Then, harsh with mockery and with scorn, 
 Defiance meets thy wild appeals ; 
 And dark Despair, unheeded, feels 
 
 'Twere better to have been unborn. 
 
Hleusis 33 
 
 XII. 
 
 For, living, one must live by rule ; 
 
 We tread the paths our fathers wore, 
 Nor look behind, nor look before, 
 
 But nod the noddings of the fool 
 
 Who knows not why, but follows feet 
 That echo ' Follow ' in his ear, — 
 E'en though it be some frenzied Lear 
 
 Who cries ' Advance ' or calls < Retreat.' 
 
 So longing souls must go astray, 
 
 And, struggling on 'mid murk and mire, 
 Feel life grow barren of desire, 
 
 Or turn like hunted stag at bay 
 
 To face the foe when hope denies, 
 
 And drink the poison-pointed spear : 
 — Life to the vanquished is not dear 
 
 As death to him who boldly dies ! 
 
34 Eleusis 
 
 XIII. 
 
 1 Rise up,' one saith, ' to higher ends ; 
 Proclaim thee better than the rest, 
 And feel the passion in thy breast 
 That pure and lofty striving sends.' 
 
 And answering to him, 6 What is this ? 
 A moment's self -deceptive joy, 
 A dream that waking will destroy, 
 
 A phantom starlight must dismiss. 
 
 * Its fabric falls and melts away 
 
 And sinks to wed its kindred dust, 
 Because some old half-hidden lust 
 Stalks laughing from its false decay.' 
 
 Then death of Hope comes slowly on ; 
 My springs of action cease to flow, 
 And o'er my spirit broods a woe 
 
 Like that which shadowed Babylon. 
 
Eleusis }5 
 
 My fertile valleys wear a pall 
 
 That yon dark mount of sorrow spread, 
 And the thick ashes of the dead 
 
 Come slowly down to bury all. 
 
 Dumb, senseless, all unhurt by pain, 
 
 Inert as matter ! can it be 
 
 That aspirations vainly flee 
 And like mirages wax and wane ? 
 
 What means the native power of art, 
 
 And what the implanted love of truth ? 
 Are these but visions haunting Youth, 
 
 To charm and then enrage the heart ? 
 
 Is living some most tragic play 
 
 Whereat remorseless purpose smiles, 
 And longings only witless wiles 
 
 That first enchant and finally slay ? 
 
 So were it better swift to fall 
 
 As tree beneath the axman's blow : 
 Aye, sometimes Misery whispers low, 
 ' 'T were better not to live at all.' 
 
36 Eleusis 
 
 XIV. 
 
 O adamantine reign of Law ! 
 
 Relax thine edicts now and then ; 
 
 Display sweet mercy unto men, 
 Discerning in thyself some flaw. 
 
 What means the bowing of the pine, 
 
 Or what the grain-field's bended head, 
 When storm and tempest frenzy-led 
 
 Whirl o'er the earth in rage condign ? 
 
 Day veils his banner unto eve, 
 
 And Night lays off her starry crown ; 
 
 The planets fall supinely down, 
 And the high tides their conquests leave. 
 
 6 To yield, to yield ! ' their voices cry ; 
 ' Contention brings supreme defeat ; 
 And they who deign not to retreat 
 Disarmed and fetter-laden lie.' 
 
Elensis ft 
 
 Why can we not the reason know, 
 
 Or why are sense and soul so blind ? 
 Whence comes the mystery of the mind, 
 
 And longing's endless ebb and flow ? 
 
 High barriers their thwarting bring ; 
 And Io-like from land to land, 
 From plains of snow to plains of sand, 
 
 We fly the Fates' remorseless sting. 
 
38 Eleusis 
 
 XV. 
 
 Yet waves uproll to meet the shore 
 
 Where many a joyous blossom sways, 
 And oft and oft the tide delays 
 
 As if enamored more and more. 
 
 This ocean-lover longs to press 
 
 The fair earth-blossom to his side, 
 And bear it on returning tide 
 
 To cheer his far-off loneliness ; 
 
 And tides that rise with longing swell 
 To court these joyous maids of June, 
 May reach them some victorious noon, 
 
 And bear in triumph, — who can tell ? 
 
 So hearts that long and tides that roll 
 
 Of feeling and divine desire 
 
 May reach, by force of longing, higher, 
 More priceless treasures of the soul. 
 
Eleusis 39 
 
 XVI. 
 
 Sweet Summer clouds, celestial fleet 
 That ploughs sublime a sapphire sea ! 
 Fain would I sail as calm as ye 
 
 To some fair haven of retreat. 
 
 Meseems for you some pilot stout 
 Maintains the rudder in his grip, 
 While I alone within my ship 
 
 Without a helmsman drift about, 
 
 And driven onward by the blast, 
 Or rising on some mural swell, 
 My boasted skill cannot foretell 
 
 The shore whereon I may be cast. 
 
 So, knowing naught of how to sail, 
 'T were better let the wind direct ; 
 For, destined finally to be wreckt, 
 
 Why toil and labor but to fail ? 
 
40 Eleusis 
 
 XVII. 
 
 They say, ' He tried, but trying failed/ 
 
 They brand him false and craven knight ; 
 And so the world in headlong flight 
 
 Abandons him at whom she railed. 
 
 The sands of many a hopeless coast 
 
 Are heaped with spars and wrecks unnamed, 
 Stout oaken ribs by tempest strained, 
 
 And now and then a capstan post. 
 
 These sailed them forth one Summer morn, 
 One Summer morn with canvas proud ; 
 To fanfares shouted by the crowd, 
 
 They sailed for lands beyond the Horn. 
 
 And now on yonder surf-worn sand 
 
 Their ghosts go wandering : yet as brave 
 Go forth new keels to breast the wave, 
 
 And carry love's or gain's command. 
 
Eleusis 41 
 
 So runs the world : and those who win 
 Are hailed the mighty and the great ; 
 But he who reached the goal too late 
 
 Is guilty of his failure's sin. 
 
 What though he strove and strove his best, 
 And nobly striving broke his heart ? 
 Success in every realm of art 
 
 Proclaims herself the crucial test ! 
 
42 Eleusis 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 O wondrous moment, when Success 
 To ardent effort yields her bride, 
 And joyous from the altar's side 
 
 They pass to perfect happiness. 
 
 The midnight anguish is forgot ; 
 The vigil hour, the weary year, 
 Dismissed from memory's hemisphere, 
 
 Depart and are remembered not. 
 
 Forgot is all the toilsome way 
 
 O'er which they trod with lingering limbs ; 
 
 Proud Nature sings their nuptial hymns, 
 And forth they walk into the day. 
 
 They walk to meet the golden west ,• 
 Across they pass the purple hills ; 
 And where eternal Summer spills 
 
 Her urns of sunshine, dwell at rest. 
 
Eleusis 43 
 
 XIX. 
 
 But what the hope that sailor feels, 
 Or what the joy of lover's dream? 
 Envenomed Cupid's arrows stream, 
 
 And painted barks have strengthless keels. 
 
 The booming guns of frigate vast, 
 The signal-lights athwart the sea, 
 The surf wild-breaking on the lea, 
 
 The splitting sail and cracking mast ! 
 
 hapless crew, ye sailed, ye sailed, 
 Familiar shores were at your side ; 
 Yet gazing on your homes ye died, 
 
 And breathing native air ye failed. 
 
 So standing where through thresholds wide 
 Success displays her vistas long, 
 The soul is tripped by passion's thong, 
 
 And finds the fairest hopes denied. 
 
44 Eleusis 
 
 XX. 
 
 If Hope be budded, snow and sleet 
 Despoil the promise of the flower • 
 What then is Summer's softest shower, 
 
 Or June, with fervid burst of heat ; 
 
 Or what are floods of evening dew 
 
 To barren deserts of despair, 
 
 Where seeds nor germs nor rootlets are, 
 Nor even rosemary or rue ? 
 
 The rebel hand of bold emprise 
 
 Has sown the field with deathf ul dearth ; 
 
 The seed has perished ere its birth, 
 And Sorrow sits to mock the wise ; 
 
 And suns unheeded fire the east ; 
 
 Unheeded moons to crescent wane ; 
 
 The stars unheeded o'er their plain 
 May move, — I know not, — or have ceased. 
 
Eleusis 45 
 
 An iron crown around my head, 
 
 My hands in fearful fetters bound, 
 A faineant king in mockery crowned 
 
 To rule o'er noble purpose dead, 
 
 To king the buried hopes of youth, 
 
 Behold Ambition's dying throe, 
 
 To pomp my own expiring woe 
 And rule the funeral rites of Truth. 
 
 Oh, who is strong to conquer Hope, 
 
 And conquering sing his bridal song, 
 Or win the heirdoms that belong 
 
 To Life's diviner astroscope ? 
 
46 Eleusis 
 
 XXI. 
 
 Then let me venture to thy wall, 
 
 Cloister crowned with quiet age, 
 And as one worn with pilgrimage 
 
 Repose my limbs within thy hall. 
 
 Let me adventure to thy shrine, 
 O Melancholy, mild and sweet, 
 Where woes with absolution meet 
 
 And souls by suffering grow divine. 
 
 O sweet Seclusion, let thy spell 
 Unseal the spirit's blinded eye, 
 And thoughts immeasurably high 
 
 Sing me my long-sought canticle. 
 
Eleusis 47 
 
 XXII. 
 
 I doxxed the gray and sackcloth robe, 
 Around my waist the knotted cord ; 
 And, every passion held in ward, 
 
 Turned round the convent's silent globe. 
 
 My soul from thought of wrong was swept, 
 My penance done most joyously ; 
 And in my new-born ecstasy 
 
 Before the altar steps I wept. 
 
 Yet when in Summer glowed the sun, 
 My thoughts refused to dwell apart ; 
 I felt the impetuous currents start 
 
 That through all life and limits run ; 
 
 The matin song in vain outrang 
 
 Through echoing aisles its soft refrain, 
 And the dull vespers all in vain 
 
 My lips in tired responses sang. 
 
48 Eleusis 
 
 Aside my thralling robes I threw ; 
 
 I passed the convent gates between ; 
 
 The lindens shook their silver sheen, 
 And up the lark in circles flew ; 
 
 The world rang out an anthem grand, 
 
 More sweet than choirs our convent kept, 
 And the pure voice of Nature swept 
 
 In concert over sea and land. 
 
 Then, pondering, new thoughts came and went; 
 My soul with sense of joy was fraught, 
 And the broad world superbly wrought 
 
 Seemed bounteous, pure, benevolent. 
 
 Fair robes of hope Queen Nature wore ; 
 
 Responsive songs she sang to me ; 
 
 And I, as from a boundless sea, 
 Stepped forth upon the solid shore. 
 
CANTO II. 
 
PRELUDE. 
 
 Away, Soul, and seek thy kind 
 In air and earth, in fire and sea ! 
 For Nature's realm to thee is free, 
 
 And only Nature is not blind. 
 
 The mists have fled ; the prisoned sense 
 That sought from self the All to know 
 Has burst its chain and slain its foe, 
 
 And finds in Nature joy intense. 
 
 No more with grief my days ally ; 
 
 To lonely woe I say, ' Farewell '; 
 
 No more on sorrow's surging swell 
 I float between the earth and sky. 
 
 No more my days I lead alone, 
 
 Without a heart to feel for mine ; 
 For Nature pours her mystic wine, 
 
 And says 'Thou art my own, my own.' 
 
52 Eleusis 
 
 The seasons come, the seasons go ; 
 
 The year hangs up its finished crown ; 
 
 A century's suns and moons go down, 
 And on a thousand cycles flow ; 
 
 And thrones and kings and realms decay ; 
 
 The builders perish, and their fanes ; 
 
 The star of empire dims and wanes, 
 And ruins mount on ruins gray; 
 
 Yet glows the sun as when his beam 
 
 Did voice the mute Memnonian lyre ; 
 As then he burns the east with fire, 
 
 And drinks at night the western stream. 
 
 Why to my heart's remotest shore 
 Exalts the tide of joy its might, 
 When yonder star's thin shaft of light 
 
 Comes glittering through my casement door ? 
 
 light that shines to me, to me, 
 From Sirius' doubly-distant sun, 
 Thou dost, meseems. imprison one 
 
 Of Nature's unseen ministry ! 
 
Eleitsis 53 
 
 Break o'er my lonely vigil hour 
 
 Thy centuried silence ! let me learn 
 What will or passion in thee burn, 
 
 And what the limit of thy power. 
 
 And there are germs defying sight, 
 That dwell in every forest tree ; 
 And with a throb we cannot see 
 
 Upswells the bosom of the Night ; 
 
 All round me, flying here and there, 
 I hear the sweep of myriad wings, 
 Unseen, yet felt ; and now outrings 
 
 A subtle music through the air. 
 
 It sings : 6 By myriad, myriad strands 
 Ye grow, of us the unseen, part ; 
 And Nature clasps ye to her heart, 
 
 And holds your pulses in her hands/ 
 
 So, Soul, away through all the earth, 
 And seek thy kindred at the poles, 
 Or where the central river rolls 
 
 All hissing from the sun's hot hearth. 
 
54 Eleusis 
 
 Build up to Nature altars high ; 
 
 Invoke her spirit ; then my heart 
 Shall find the greatest crown of art 
 
 To learn from living how to die ! 
 
CANTO II. 
 
 1. 
 
 High priest of Nature, altars grand 
 I reared in every separate zone, 
 Amid the ice-floes white and lone, 
 
 And on the south and blazing sand. 
 
 So northward on my shallop drove, 
 Till icy grew the spars and ropes, 
 And waning sun and fading hopes 
 
 With high ecstatic purpose strove. 
 
 I coasted on past coral isles, 
 
 Far onward to the burning south, 
 And where to cool the fevered mouth 
 
 The treacherous lotus-fruit beguiles. 
 
 Then wandered 'mid the barren wastes 
 That stretch beyond the Asian meads, 
 And heard the sighing of the reeds 
 
 Where soft and fleet Hydaspes hastes. 
 
56 Eleusis 
 
 On Indian flowers I lay reclined 
 
 At noon beneath the banyan wide, 
 
 And watched the scorched and sluggish tide 
 
 Rise up to catch the cooling wind. 
 
 And o'er the Andalusian plain 
 
 Where rarely grows the purple wine, 
 I saw the dusk and half divine 
 
 And passionate damosels of Spain. 
 
 Mid Paestum's Doric shafts I sang, 
 
 And where Antinous drank the Nile, 
 And Java's far and famous isle 
 
 To my new rite of worship rang. 
 
 In every clime, by every sea, 
 
 In zones that interchanging lie — 
 Of temperate heat and tropic sky, 
 
 O Nature, have I worshipped thee ! 
 
Eleusis 57 
 
 ii. 
 
 What joy to watch the bolts of fire 
 Shoot out the crimson bow of dawn, 
 And Night's dumb silence leave the lawn 
 
 To Morning's glad exultant choir ! 
 
 With mellow throats they greet the sun, 
 And usher in the court of Day ; 
 While all the Hours at eager play 
 
 Around his chariot garland-hung, 
 
 And clinging to his bounding wheels, 
 Fling rosy missiles to and fro, 
 Beneath whose iridescent blow 
 
 The genius of the darkness reels. 
 
 The sentinel peaks in splendor vie, 
 
 And gorgeous ensigns o'er them rear ; 
 And silent air, with rose-red ear, 
 
 Listens while Phoebus mounts on high. 
 
58 Eleusis 
 
 Then sunlight steals to forests deep, 
 And down the mountains to the sea ; 
 And now, where Capri's caverns be, 
 
 Awakes the sapphire from its sleep. 
 
Eleusis 59 
 
 in. 
 
 What joy to tread the forest free, 
 To press the sod with daisies pied, 
 And feel the deep and pulsing tide 
 
 Of Life's fresh vernal mystery ! 
 
 What joy in forests, when alone, 
 
 The depths of slumbrous aisles to pass, 
 And hear the solemn matin mass 
 
 That Nature's celebrants intone ; 
 
 The lofty nave in reverence bows, 
 
 The transepts wake from night and sleep, 
 And through the mighty minster sweep 
 
 The answering antiphones of vows ; 
 
 And I, with these of one descent, 
 My orisons in concert pay, 
 And out into the full-orbed day 
 
 Walk consecrated and content. 
 
6o Eleusis 
 
 IV. 
 
 What joy to watch the glittering train 
 Of evening mount the curved sky, 
 And hear the breezes lightly fly 
 
 To kiss the lips of sighing grain ! 
 
 The lambent eye of yonder star, 
 The ivory shoulder of the moon, 
 The full content of midnight's noon, 
 
 And rush of yonder planet's car ! 
 
 What joy to feel the impassioned sense 
 Of kinship with the sea and earth, 
 And claim a brotherhood by birth 
 
 With Nature, measureless, immense ! 
 
Eleusis 6 1 
 
 At night I came to Ocean's swell ; 
 The hunted billows shoreward flew, 
 And, like to suppliants come to sue, 
 
 At Earth's great altar-steps they fell. 
 
 The rocks with rhythmic pulses beat 
 
 Through their deep hearts, as swiftly down 
 Each giant cast his mural crown 
 
 At California's haughty feet. 
 
 Fear sped on velvet wings to me, 
 
 And brooding o'er my sinking head 
 Revealed the faces of the dead 
 
 That looked from out the western sea. 
 
 And storm-sped voices, frenzy-strung, 
 To my new sense condignly swept ; 
 Till all my manhood moaned and wept 
 
 O'er ship and sailor-man undone. 
 
62 Eleusis 
 
 On some high crest he floateth on, 
 
 With eyes upturned to heaven in vain ; 
 Or lies in valley of disdain, 
 
 Earth's mute and sea4ossed paragon. 
 
Eleusis 6) 
 
 VI. 
 
 Resistless now to some command, 
 And creeping, creeping from afar, 
 The moonlight and the evening star 
 
 Behold new tides assail the land. 
 
 The shadows yield to flood and foam, 
 
 The shore-bird spreads his inland wing, 
 And the dusk-charioted ocean-king 
 
 Drives on though rocks and sea-weed moan. 
 
 So I am slain in life's excess ; 
 
 My transient heirdom is not mine ; 
 
 But the broad surge and swell divine 
 Hath mastery never growing less. 
 
64 Eleusis 
 
 VII. 
 
 I sit and ponder, when the tide 
 With languid step begins return, 
 As from the tomb and funeral urn 
 
 Comes Grief, whose darling one has died. 
 
 Great tears are wept for bounded Hope ; 
 The baffled mourner voiceless lies ; 
 And the deep-shrouding Darkness cries, 
 i All passion dwells in fettered scope ; 
 
 ' Dusk hands outreach to baffle thee ; 
 
 Thy tides of knowledge backward fall, 
 As the dark powers of Nature call 
 From world-wide empire yonder sea.' 
 
Beusis 65 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Fair hamlet like brave girdle clasped 
 Round yonder mistress of the plain, 
 Lead forth your last well-axled wain, 
 
 And leave your useless doors unhasped. 
 
 From far away your laden ships 
 
 Sail homeward-wafted to your bay, 
 And sailors sea-tossed many a day 
 
 Are pressing fond resistless lips. 
 
 Yet where your emerald girdle clings, 
 And where your weary vessels rest, 
 And where, with passion's perfect zest 
 
 The home-come sailor-lover sings, 
 
 Shall fall the mocking ashes pale 
 
 Ere midnight-bell salutes the morn, 
 And Nature clothed in fire and scorn 
 
 Will laugh to hear her children wail ; 
 
66 Eleusis 
 
 Will tread with soulless step the shore, 
 
 With soulless hand your vineyards crush, 
 And in the current of her rush 
 
 Whirl Life to Death's domain once more. 
 
Eleusis 67 
 
 IX. 
 
 So, leopard, leap from out thy lair ! 
 The jungles reek with heavy mist, 
 And still the breezes are, and whist 
 
 The hot and burned-out Indian air. 
 
 Leap up, O leopard ! 'tis the hour 
 
 The lonely traveller pants with fear 
 Lest thy unechoing step be near, 
 
 And stops at every breath to cower. 
 
 Leap lightly on the easy prey, 
 
 And glut thy angry maw once more ; 
 
 Thou art the grave of half a score, 
 Now add another one to-day! 
 
68 Eleusis 
 
 One boundeth joyous toward the east, 
 
 But halts where falls th' embattled shore ; 
 Bright envoys come the waters o'er 
 
 To herald Morning's golden feast ; 
 
 His heart aspires to distance dim, 
 As caged bird it beats its wires, 
 And pants to warm it at the fires 
 
 That burn the far horizon's rim. 
 
 Yet cliffs lie here, and deep below 
 
 The Ocean's wide unending room, — 
 O Man, thou art but earthly groom, 
 
 And Nature's arms around thee grow. 
 
 Look, long to fly ! yet she, thy bride, 
 With rosy limbs around thee flung, 
 Will hold thee while thy strength is young, 
 
 To spurn thee when thy youth has died ! 
 
Beusis 69 
 
 XI. 
 
 Fkom purpling mounds in early June 
 I pluck sweet violets nodding up, 
 The trillium and its graceful cup 
 
 That holds the dew-wine unto noon. 
 
 Of thick green grass a round I weave 
 To knit my violets lest they fall, 
 And sitting under oak-tree tall 
 
 I hear Spring's passion pant and heave. 
 
 I hear the waves with Summer feet 
 
 Come gay and gladsome to the shore, 
 And in the purple skies a score 
 
 Of wide-winged curlews float and meet ; 
 
 I hear the sounds of axe and wedge 
 On busy ships that wait to sail, 
 The sailors answering to the hail 
 
 Of captain at the water's edge ; 
 
yo Eleusis 
 
 The noise of myriad hands that go 
 Responsive to a myriad brains : 
 Here is the pulsing of the veins, 
 
 And the great world's impetuous flow. 
 
Eleusis 7/ 
 
 XII. 
 
 But this slight round of grass, — ah me ! 
 
 See how it breaks ! and all around 
 
 My violets lie upon the ground, 
 Or fluttering off impatiently 
 
 Are lured away by ardent breath 
 Of June's impulsive lover-breeze, 
 Who strays now, loitering 'mid the trees, 
 
 Or goes coquetting o'er the heath. 
 
 And so the hopes of yonder sail, 
 
 The beatings of the captain's heart, 
 The sailors urgent to depart, 
 
 Some envious wind may countervail ; 
 
 And hurling ship in frenzied glee 
 
 Through straits and islands slightly known, 
 May sink them where on coral prone 
 
 They grow the substance of the sea. 
 
J2 Elensis 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Stately across the world she trod, 
 
 Her arms with gold and purple hung ; 
 And wide the colors rich she flung 
 
 O'er heath and distant tree and sod. 
 
 The flame of setting sun grew pale 
 Beside the halo Autumn wore, 
 And 'neath her feet the forest floor 
 
 Glowed like the wine in Holy Grail. 
 
 The mists of fine October blue 
 
 Were interwove with crimson rare, 
 As through the rich and ripened air 
 
 Bright Autumn leaves enamored flew ; 
 
 Her wake was such as southern keel 
 
 Leaves flashing 'neath an evening sky ; 
 Red, purple, crimson, gold, defy 
 
 All words but his who lives to feel ! 
 
Eleusis 73 
 
 At last she stood with crimson mouth 
 Where dusk horizons dimly stand, 
 And with one kiss to sky and land 
 
 Went hastening onward to the south. 
 
74 Eleusis 
 
 XIV. 
 
 And, as she passed, from northern strand 
 A royal youth leaped lightly down, 
 With crystals flashing in his crown 
 
 And icy sceptre in his hand; 
 
 Fair frozen clouds his limbs arrayed, 
 In frosty sandals sped his feet, 
 And storms of Summer-slaying sleet 
 
 Drove on, his deathful cavalcade ; 
 
 And Color fled in frenzied fear, 
 
 And Hope put on her funeral wreath ; 
 And here and there upon the heath 
 
 Lay travellers frozen to their bier. 
 
Eleusis 75 
 
 XV. 
 
 Across I trod the royal world, 
 The kingly seas I fled across ; 
 Yet haunting, like the albatross 
 
 With tireless pinion never furled, 
 
 Care hovered o'er my weary way ; 
 At night she poised above my bed, 
 And round my bowed and aching head 
 
 Went circling through the wearier day. 
 
 No power could drive her in defeat ; 
 She drank my salt and flowing tears, 
 And through the long expanse of years 
 
 Drove Hope in dastardly retreat. 
 
 For Nature hath a step of steel 
 
 To crush her children when they cry ; 
 They plead, and pleading yet must lie 
 
 Beneath her feet who cannot feel. 
 
y6 Eleusis 
 
 XVI. 
 
 Joy faints at Disappointment's stride, 
 And Crime is eldest son of Want : 
 From phantasies that mock and haunt 
 
 Our mental vision, who can hide ? 
 
 We clutch the dark and leaden clamps, 
 Or wrench in vain the steely bars, 
 To find our only trophies scars 
 
 And death amid the prison damps. 
 
 The instinctive passion to be free 
 Alone prevents our death in life ; 
 And in a never-ending strife 
 
 We fight with foes we cannot see. 
 
Eleusis 77 
 
 XVII. 
 
 For Nature, Nature lies asleep 
 Within her far creative halls, 
 Where Being's ocean swells and falls 
 
 And subtle currents roll and sweep. 
 
 She lies encouched 'neath vaults sublime, 
 And held in sleep's eventless spell : — 
 Silence — but that clepsydras tell 
 
 In century-drops the lapse of time. 
 
 Vague eons stretch their boundless plains 
 To years when first her sleep began ; 
 She slumbers since the birth of man, 
 
 And now his aged century wanes. 
 
 'T is thus the creative throe recoils, 
 And weary pain is slept away ; 
 For action, weakening, will slay 
 
 Unless sweet rest repair the spoils. 
 
y8 Eleusis 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 Yet now her breasts upsurge, she flings 
 Aside the robe whose touch is pain, 
 And the great pangs of birth again 
 
 Awake great Nature queen of kings. 
 
 Yet who of mortals may behold 
 
 Her fructive waking undismayed, 
 And gaze on Nature disarrayed 
 
 Without a terror uncontrolled ! 
 
 Her latest children will dismiss 
 
 Our lives and memory to decay ; 
 For Nature, wakening, will slay 
 
 Her earlier progeny for this. 
 
 So Life advances ; Death defies 
 A full and perfect-rounded hour, 
 And the strong man's divinest power 
 
 Leaps to new being when he dies. 
 
Eleusis 79 
 
 The eternal cycle stately rounds 
 
 From node to node its mighty track ; 
 No century slides completely back 
 
 When out its solemn requiem sounds ; 
 
 But all this arc of life we know 
 
 Shall meet and live in one divine ; — 
 Sons keep the father's storied line, 
 
 And Birth gives Death a master-blow. 
 
8o Eleusis 
 
 XIX. 
 
 O mystery when the first red sun 
 
 Looked o'er the world's extremest east, 
 And mystery when the solemn feast 
 
 Proclaimed Eleusis' rite was done ; 
 
 mystery now on western wing 
 
 High brooding over present time, — 
 In every age and every clime 
 Thou art the curse of everything ! 
 
 Yet who can chain the eternal mind, 
 
 And say to Knowledge, * Hither, stay ! 
 Pass not the precincts of the day ; 
 
 To night and mystery be blind ! ' 
 
 And so I search and seek my brain, 
 Each dusky corner scan and sweep, 
 Till 'mid the labyrinth dark and deep 
 
 1 turn, and lose the clew again. 
 
Eleusis 81 
 
 Yet who, once failing, leaves the quest, 
 Nor baffled hither, flies beyond ? 
 Some ocean beats a golden strond, 
 
 And laves the Islands of the Blest. 
 
82 Eleusis 
 
 XX. 
 
 Sing, river reeds, a hopeful lay, 
 
 To quell the dirge and wail of woe 
 That sighs : l The centuries come and go, 
 
 And Death is sure though Life delay.' 
 
 Sing, as ye sit by yonder stream 
 
 Whose sunless waters rise and fall : 
 ' Though Death may seem the lord of all, 
 Life is the substance, Death the dream.' 
 
 And let your loudest singing bear 
 
 Some strains of hope to sweeten pain : 
 1 Death's darkest moment is not vain ; 
 In death is life, in death the heir. 
 
 ' Through death new hope and life arise ; 
 
 Through death all weakness grows to strength ; 
 Through death soul-striving finds at length 
 The untrammelled power that in it lies.' 
 
Eleusis 83 
 
 Sing thus, reeds with dulcet throat, 
 Where Life's unending river glides, 
 Till those diverse and sullen tides 
 
 To one harmonious current float. 
 
84 Eleusis 
 
 XXI. 
 
 Yet, harsh Queen Nature, what is this ? 
 Is thine a breast without a heart, 
 Or mine a soul that lacks the art 
 
 To gain the blessing of thy kiss ? 
 
 I weep, I yield, I plead, I pray : 
 
 Thy lips and Reason's answer not ; 
 And the deep anguish of my lot 
 
 Is more to-day than yesterday. 
 
 Yet is there something still unknown, 
 Some all-indwelling bond of life, 
 Some mystic master-key to strife, 
 
 Some purpose powerful to condone, 
 
 Some sympathy no eye can see, 
 
 Or some imperial perfect spell, — 
 Life's soft and tranquil madrigal 
 
 To make all discord harmony. 
 
Eleusis 85 
 
 XXII. 
 
 Sweet-smellixg lily, sadly turn 
 
 Thy snow-white face from sun and sky ; 
 Thy sister's funeral train goes by 
 
 To mock the hope of her return. 
 
 The cypress sobs beside the wall 
 To see the passion-flower decline, 
 And the high-throated eglantine 
 
 Droops as it sees its sisters fall. 
 
 And roses, borne from tender stem 
 To merry brides who wed to-day, 
 Hear the sad voice of desolate May 
 
 In love's low chants of requiem. 
 
 The speaking eye of heartsease bright, 
 The rhythmic rustle of the hay, 
 The last low words of dying day, 
 
 The wordless voices of the night, 
 
86 Eleusis 
 
 Respond to other voices, make 
 
 To rustling hay an answer sweet, 
 And feel all victory and defeat 
 
 For Love's divine victorious sake. 
 
 To me, in funeral wrappings laid, 
 
 May voices whisper through the turf ; 
 And to the sailor say the surf, 
 1 Dead sailor, do not be afraid ! ' 
 
 Or I on spiritual pinion near 
 
 May hover when the garden noons, 
 And in the swift recurrent Junes 
 
 Breathe in the fragrant atmosphere, 
 
 And clothed in fragrance, far away 
 Go incense-like to rise and float 
 Where constellated stars remote 
 
 Move stately on their mighty way. 
 
Eleusis 87 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 O star within whose power and scope 
 My destiny defines her arc, 
 TTithin thy gleaming orb I mark 
 
 No golden characters of hope. 
 
 This astroscope whereon is read 
 
 The heavenly aspects at my birth, 
 
 Hath nanght of truth and naught of worth 
 
 In what upon its cones is said. 
 
 A happy destiny was mine, 
 
 As here the fair conjunctions show ; 
 
 But life for me is endless woe, 
 And sorrow roundeth her design. 
 
 star, and spirit regnant there, 
 
 Thro' these dark shades and brooding night 
 Flash out in glorious words of light 
 
 The perfect talisman of despair ! 
 
88 Eleusis 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 And can there be a heart that burns 
 As mine 'neath this or foreign sun ? 
 An there be such and only one 
 
 Who for the same deep secrets yearns, 
 
 Oh, let it hither send me word 
 
 That twin it looks, and twin it longs 
 To sing with me diviner songs 
 
 And music all too rarely heard. 
 
 For I have searched this many a year, 
 And many lands have trod in vain, 
 To find some sweet responsive strain 
 
 In any clime or hemisphere. 
 
 O twin-born soul ! if far and wide 
 
 Thou dwellest, come and dwell with me ; 
 For two are more than one, and we — 
 
 Loud singing may be heard outside ! 
 
Eleusis 89 
 
 XXV. 
 
 So, Sympathy, thy perfect key 
 
 To Nature's touch is slow to sound ; 
 Or is the secret spell unfouncl 
 
 That tunes thee to thy full degree ? 
 
 1 deemed it found ; and yet in vain 
 My spirit strove with striving strong 
 To lead, like Orpheus, trees along: 
 
 The lyre was echoless again. 
 
 And hills whereto my feet aspired, 
 
 And seas whereon my shallop sailed, 
 With baffling purpose countervailed 
 
 The zeal wherewith my heart was fired. 
 
 O fellow-feeling for the weak, 
 
 And inner kinship, — if ye dwell 
 
 On earth, if down from heaven ye fell, 
 
 From human hearts and souls ye speak ! 
 
CANTO III. 
 

 
 
PRELUDE. 
 
 My early Gods in fragments fall, 
 
 My temple doors are prostrate cast ; 
 Rear up, great Iconoclast, 
 
 Some God to fill the vacant hall ! 
 
 My lingering steps still bear me on 
 And past the gates that ruined lie, 
 As some ghost Persian haunting nigh 
 
 The archless ports of Ctesiphon. 
 
 I glance where vacant windows yawn, 
 I turn my eyes where altars were ; 
 But altar, rite, and minister, 
 
 And all the re r are gone, are gone. 
 
 I see the spectral form of Will, 
 
 And Nature's phantom hovering near ; 
 
 And from their wild exultant jeer 
 I pass my destiny to fulfill. 
 
94 Eleusis 
 
 Rear up, great Iconoclast, 
 
 Some God to fill the vacant shrine, 
 And let some master heart divine 
 
 How ruined hope may be recast. 
 
 Cry out, great-hearted hope in things, 
 And silence disappointment's wail: 
 ' Though triply Daedalus shall fail, 
 He moulds at last unfailing wings.' 
 
 Cry out that longing has its use, 
 
 That failure is not always crime ; 
 Cry out that hope's avoidless prime 
 
 Shall shame the foes that now traduce. 
 
 Cry out that Reason cannot tell, 
 
 And point to Nature's listless sleep ; 
 And then with mighty fingers sweep 
 
 The human heart's melodious shell. 
 
 Allay the longing born in me, 
 
 My heart to thine completely wed ; 
 And bring in all this discord's stead 
 
 The harmonious strain of sympathy. 
 
Eleusis 95 
 
 I rise to patience's higher plane 
 
 On baffled purpose's strengthened wings, 
 And thro' my new-wrought sense of things 
 
 Discern in loss the seed of gain. 
 
 Across the narrower world, below 
 
 The close horizons of my birth, 
 
 I see a sun-enveloped earth, 
 And midnight into morning flow ; 
 
 I see that all things are of kin, 
 And move together ; and I feel 
 That the great throbs of woe and weal 
 
 Move from one heart they centre in. 
 
 And so to human hearts I fly ; 
 
 In these all human joy is found ; 
 
 For thus the universe is bound 
 To love immeasurably high. 
 
CANTO HI. 
 
 Osiris sits and reigns no more, 
 
 Nor dreams fair Isis of her King ; 
 And not the phoenix* sunlit wing 
 
 Floats back from Abyssinia's shore. 
 
 O priest whose spice-wrapt limbs recline 
 The stream where Memnon sits along, 
 Break forth again to living song 
 
 And make thy earlier knowledge mine. 
 
 Dumb, all unsealed, thy lips refuse 
 To utter secrets known of old ; 
 age, so falsely called of gold, 
 
 Whate'er men gain, they gain to lose ! 
 
 For Egypt's pomp and Egypt's pride 
 Have passed at length to one decay ; 
 And Truth that blossomed in that day 
 
 Has lost its vigor and has died. 
 
 7 
 
g8 Eleusis 
 
 ii. 
 
 Gray aisles of Paestum, echoing yet 
 
 To deep-toned songs and temple-strings, 
 From out your perfect ruin springs 
 
 A joy my heart cannot forget : 
 
 A joy that lives in perfect art, 
 
 A joy that time is weak to slay, 
 A joy for every future day, 
 
 A passion higher than the heart. 
 
 O Doric columns hoar and old, 
 
 And framed by some all-Phidian hand, 
 
 I linger in your sunlit land 
 And by your fields of tainted gold. 
 
 Across the ages' deep abyss 
 
 I hear your priests responsive sing, 
 And see within your halls the King 
 
 Of your great founder, Sybaris. 
 
Eleusis 
 
 99 
 
 O ruined columns by the sea, 
 
 Caressed to-night by deathful mist, 
 Your perfect contours once were kissed 
 
 By the prime lips of Italy ; 
 
 But now ye speak of ruined creeds, 
 
 Of faiths that fell to Time's rude breath : 
 Oh, can it be that thus of death 
 
 There lurk in all things f ructive seeds ? 
 
wo Eleusis 
 
 in. 
 
 Oh, more divine than these that fell, 
 Yet less divine than one to be, 
 Thou art most reverend unto me, 
 
 O Syrian faith of Israel. 
 
 Yet thou, thrice noble, art dethroned ; 
 
 Thy boasted regnance is at end ; 
 
 And o'er thy buried grandeur bend 
 The children that thy heart disowned. 
 
 Thy storied prince of David's line, 
 Thy golden temple now is dust, 
 And to the greed of thy own lust 
 
 Was spilled the blood of One Divine. 
 
Beu sis 101 
 
 IV. 
 
 The Andalusian mountains wept 
 
 When mighty Granada fell down ; 
 When o'er the Crescent's high renown 
 
 The Cross with gleaming lances swept. 
 
 Then Art her mask in fear put on, 
 And fled to depths of dismal woe, 
 And by the Darro's silver flow 
 
 Forsook her ruined Babylon. 
 
 And now the Alhambra's towers are old; 
 Across her courts the shadows lie : 
 But Art like this can never die, 
 
 Nor those soft arabesques of gold. 
 
 Eternal beauty lingers yet 
 
 To swell the requiem of decay, 
 And raise above the Cross to-day 
 
 The Moslem's tapering minaret. 
 
W2 Eleusis 
 
 V. 
 
 August Cassino, from whose brow 
 I gazed athwart the Appenine, 
 O saintly tombing-place and shrine, 
 
 I see thee in my memory now. 
 
 From thy broad loggia, how my eyes 
 Beheld the silver mists that lay 
 Like lakes and sea of gleaming spray 
 
 Beneath the arch of sunlit skies. 
 
 The world sings out thy earlier deeds ; 
 
 Above thee saints enfranchised fly; 
 
 And the great dome of starlit sky 
 Blazons thy ministry to needs. 
 
 The black-robed brother at my side 
 
 Repeats his beads, then softly speaks : 
 ' His soul soared upward like these peaks,- 
 Our Benedict has never died ; 
 

 Eleusis 103 
 
 i The truth lives on, though men may die ; 
 The eternal vigor lasts and lives ; 
 And through the potence that it gives 
 We live immortal, you and I.' 
 
 Yet I : ' Within thy courts, and deep 
 Within these halls, the spell is fled ; 
 Thy saint, thy Benedict is dead, 
 
 And all Italia rests in sleep. 
 
 1 Thus faith declines from high renown ; 
 Its splendor lingers but to fall ; 
 And in thy Paradise-like hall 
 A buried purpose moulders down.' 
 
io4 Eleusis 
 
 VI. 
 
 Axd where the Wartburg's turrets soar 
 From yon Thuringian hills of fame, 
 I heard the echo of a name — 
 
 A name which Rome fell down before. 
 
 I entered in the massy gate, 
 
 With trembling feet I passed me by, 
 For to my sense-divested eye 
 
 Elizabeth and Luther wait : 
 
 Queen-saint of hope to men who weep, 
 High-priest of Superstition's fall . . . 
 I passed within that storied hall, 
 
 And felt my soul in rapture leap. 
 
 The singers sweet I heard contend, 
 I saw the saint devoutly kneel, 
 And heard the monk in passionate zeal 
 
 Bring Rome's north empire to an end. 
 
Eleusis 105 
 
 Yet German sons and German sires 
 
 To-day in faith are less than naught, 
 And hopes for which their fathers fought 
 
 Are bargained at their King's desires ! 
 
io6 Eleusis 
 
 yii. 
 
 And thou, the last, — what fate is thine ? 
 
 What deeper purpose dwells in thee ? 
 
 What seeds of Hope's eternity? 
 What part of all that is divine ? 
 
 Though deeds decay and faiths may fall, 
 
 The Eternal Truth that gave them breath 
 Sinks not, with outward form, to death, 
 
 But lives in each, and after all. 
 
 The Eternal Truth lives ever on ; 
 
 Whate'er its outer garbing be 
 
 In this or that swift century, 
 'T is one — in Thebes or Parthenon. 
 
 What though Osiris long is dead, 
 
 What though the Grecian Gods decline, 
 And Paestum lifts a ruined line 
 
 Of columns to the sky o'erhead, — 
 
Eleusis ioj 
 
 And what though in Cassino's halls, 
 Or on the Wartburg, phantoms sing 
 ' He ruleth not who once was King, 
 The imperial master-spirit falls,' — 
 
 Yet see I, over seas of years, 
 
 And through the mighty maze of Time, 
 One royal Truth which sits sublime 
 
 And rules triumphant over fears : 
 
 One Truth whose lineage lives and runs 
 From Time's beginning to its close, — 
 One hope which gives surcease to woes, 
 
 And sits most splendid of the suns. 
 
io8 Eleasis 
 
 VIII. 
 O hinge of Memory, turn for me, 
 
 And fling the gates of Wonder wide ; 
 
 Reveal the secret things that hide 
 Behind thy screen of mystery. 
 
 What were the springs that moved intent 
 In men of past heroic worth ? 
 Did Fellow-feeling rule the earth, 
 
 And Pity brood o'er each event ? 
 
 Oh, turn for me your mystic door ; 
 
 Create anew the things of old ; 
 
 And show the mines of virgin gold 
 That now, alas, are known no more ! 
 
Eleusis >°9 
 
 
 
 IX. 
 
 I see the Athenian triremes gay 
 
 With pomp of sail and pomp of oar, 
 Full-winged for far Ortygia's shore, 
 
 Float out the blue Saronic bay. 
 
 They pass the isle that Pelops named, 
 By soft Calabria, and where 
 Enceladus' condign despair 
 
 From Etna's heaving bosom flamed. 
 
 And forth the Dorian galleys ride, 
 And high is heard the battle-song, 
 And for the phantom of a wrong 
 
 Th' Hellenic truce is set aside. 
 
 Weep, Athens, from thy gated pile 
 
 O'er grace, and youth, and glory dead, 
 For to the victors' stately tread 
 
 Resounds the Syracusan isle. 
 
no Eleusis 
 
 Ah, Hellas, thou wert then undone ! 
 
 The bond of birth was rent in twain, 
 And daggers drawn 'gainst brothers stain 
 
 That common lineage of the Sun. 
 
Eleusis 1 1 i 
 
 I lay upon the Palatine 
 
 When Evening lit her changeless dome, 
 And felt the mighty hand of Rome 
 
 Enfold and clasp itself in mine. 
 
 She drew me where exalts on high 
 The hill of Jove's departed reign ; 
 And o'er the Tiber's templed plain 
 
 The Past swept living to my eye. 
 
 Around me Rome exultant rings 
 
 With praise and shout of high acclaim, 
 As in his car her son of Fame 
 
 New wreaths to deck her grandeur brings. 
 
 And on and on the pageant rolls, 
 
 And up the wide Flaminian street, 
 With roar of Rome's returning feet 
 
 And shouts of glad Italian souls ; 
 
J * 2 Eleusis 
 
 And on and on through seas of men ; 
 
 <Io Triumphe,' Vesta cries, 
 
 i Io Triumphe,' loud replies 
 The Forum's strident voice again. 
 
 In Jove's resplendent robes he gleams, — 
 A fettered king before him goes ; 
 And one has weight of mighty woes, 
 
 And one has glory more than dreams. 
 
 And now the templed height uprears : 
 O Hall of Fame, O Yale of Dread ! 
 And on and on the Triumph's tread 
 
 Goes up the storied path of years. 
 
 Draw, crownless king, thy deepest breath, 
 For few, alas, to thee remain ; 
 Nor will this Roman lord disdain 
 
 To seal his triumph with thy death. 
 
 For him the ascending Sacred Way, 
 And glad Quirinus' stately hall ; 
 For thee to dungeon-depths to fall, 
 
 And Death's dominion of decay. 
 
Eleusis n 3 
 
 XI. 
 
 I see the centuries to my own ; 
 
 The groans of nations fall and rise, 
 
 The Hun a triple foe defies, 
 The Goth and Vandal are o'erthrown, 
 
 And Saxons die to Frankish lance, 
 Byzantine lords their captives slay, 
 And Syria sees in proud array 
 
 The Crescent and the Cross advance. 
 
 The Danube's floods in woe return, 
 
 The Rhine goes groaning to the sea, 
 And France in woeful panoply 
 
 Beholds the haughty Kremlin burn ; 
 
 And Europe weeps from east to west 
 Above her broad sepulchral plain, 
 And crimson poppies kill the grain 
 
 That springs where slaughtered myriads rest. 
 
U4 Elensis 
 
 Hope ! the Past was still the same, 
 Nor bowed she clown to human need; 
 In Greece, in Rome, in Europe's creed, 
 
 Self was the one Imperial name ; 
 
 No fellow-feeling fired her heart, 
 She trod defiant on her way, 
 And built on kings of yesterday 
 
 The short-lived triumphs of her art. 
 
Eleusis n 5 
 
 XII. 
 
 LlMN me, soul-painter, on your screen 
 The transient passions of a clay 
 Which like sun-shadows slide and play 
 
 Across the soul of serf or queen ; 
 
 Emblazon men's disguised crime, 
 Illumine passion's secret plan, 
 And trace the hidden life of man 
 
 Through its mysterious paradigm ; 
 
 Swift thoughts that half-way born expire, 
 Swift hopes that faint ere noon is high ; 
 Enthusiasms that must die 
 
 In bitter tears, in bitter fire ; 
 
 Fair visions fading, sunrise slain, 
 Mirages leading where they will, 
 And dreams whose empty pictures fill 
 
 The solemn halls of self -disdain ; — 
 
ii 6 Elensis 
 
 Limn these, soul-painter, while I sing ; 
 The secret thought for me portray, 
 And bring to light of living day 
 
 The hidden self of everything. 
 
Eleusis a r 7 
 
 XIII. 
 
 I watched the elder men resign 
 The reins of family and of state, 
 Their gray hairs making consecrate 
 
 To reverence as a holy shrine. 
 
 And age reared up their Capitol, 
 Wherein their purer vision saw 
 The perfect reading of the law 
 
 Whereby the man must rise or fall. 
 
 And sitting there with high intent, 
 
 With treasures plucked from many years, 
 I deemed them victors over fears 
 
 And lords of consummate content. 
 
 Yet when with reverent voice I plead, 
 ' Oh, give your magic wand to me ! ' 
 ' We hold no sure and mystic key/ 
 
 Their weeping voices sadly said. 
 
u8 Eleusis 
 
 XIV. 
 
 I watched the young men of my time, 
 The hope and harvest of the State, 
 Whose strength proclaims republics great 
 
 And makes Progression's tower upclimb ; 
 
 I watched them reach that noble year 
 
 That stamps the man in perfect flower, 
 And take the magic key to power 
 
 Untouched by hope and dead to fear. 
 
 To banquet halls their weakness sped ; 
 
 They scorned the power their birthright gave, 
 And, swept on Pleasure's fickle wave, 
 
 Soon lay among the nameless dead. 
 
Elensis J 19 
 
 xv. 
 
 But what these words ? Shall I presume — 
 I, who am only neophyte — 
 To say what is or is not right, 
 
 And seize the great king-eagle's plume ? 
 
 Yet the impassioned soul must give 
 
 Expression to the impassioned thought, 
 No matter if it come to naught : 
 
 Better to die than dumb to live. 
 
 Perennial springs of vigorous flow 
 
 Must find some outlet for their swell ; 
 Repressing cannot serve to quell, 
 
 And when winds must, then winds will blow. 
 
i2o Eleusis 
 
 XVI. 
 
 One flies in chariot to the goal, 
 
 And others toil with weary feet ; 
 And one, too proud to make retreat, 
 
 Pours out in agony his soul. 
 
 Nor stops the chariot-borne, nor stays, 
 O'er prostrate brother drives him by, 
 And with the victor's battle-cry 
 
 Exults to conquer though he slays. 
 
 As onward fly the eternal years 
 
 Unchecked by joy, unheeding pain, 
 As o'er the heavenly battle-plain 
 
 Speed on the meteor-slaying spheres. 
 
 'T is thus imperious purpose flings 
 
 All else but self-enthronement down, 
 And plucks his bauble of a crown 
 
 From out the hands of slaughtered kings. 
 
Eleusis in 
 
 Yet 'mid a myriad cold and chill 
 
 May grow one rich and generous heart, 
 That gives a rich and generous part, 
 
 And with a rich and generous will ; 
 
 Like some resplendent star he glows 
 
 Through rarely-parted cloud and mist, 
 'Till with his golden lustre kissed 
 
 The world with joyance overflows. 
 
 Such then, when found, as victor sing, 
 Or chariot-borne or pilgrim meek ; 
 For tender helping of the weak 
 
 Proclaims the helper more than king. 
 
J 22 Eleusis 
 
 XVII. 
 
 Ingenuous heart were rare to find, 
 And action answering to the will 
 More rare ; bnt aye the rarest still 
 
 A heart to selfish longings blind. 
 
 For joy will hide a brother's pain ; 
 
 Our own defies the world to match ; 
 
 And close is fastened up the latch 
 When falls the sudden burst of rain. 
 
 O self -idolatry ! I hold 
 
 All pagan worships less abject; 
 
 And no delusion thus has wreckt 
 The empires and the men of old. 
 
 It slays the hope of growing youth, 
 It withers all the growing grain, 
 And makes the passionate music vain 
 
 That sounds from out the lips of Truth. 
 
Eleusis 123 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 Am I or am I not distraught ? 
 
 Or hath my fancy leaped its bound, 
 And deemed the echo of a sound 
 
 The mighty organ-peal of thought ? 
 
 Is there or is there not the prime, 
 The perfect ripeness of content 
 Embalmed within each sad event, 
 
 Or in the manifold of crime ? 
 
 Is there or is there not concealed 
 
 A purer joy in every woe, 
 
 Whose mystic meaning I shall know 
 When thought to knowledge is revealed ? 
 
 Divine me, master, where the heart 
 To full perennial bloom expands, 
 A glorious joy to many lands 
 
 And heaven's fairest counterpart. 
 
124 Eleusis 
 
 XIX. 
 
 For who hath loved another heart 
 
 With perfect manhood's strongest strength, 
 Nor found it traitorous at length 
 
 To practice some deceitful art? 
 
 O friend grown falser than the sea, 
 And falser far than fickle wind, 
 Wherein more deeply have I sinned 
 
 Than in my full belief in thee ? 
 
 Across the world of yore we fled 
 
 To realms that dip in southern waves, 
 Or where in ice-encumbered graves 
 
 Repose the daring and the dead. 
 
 And all thy inmost thoughts were mine, 
 Our hearts in perfect rhythm beat, 
 And to my soul's most sacred seat 
 
 Thou hadst the magic countersign. 
 
Eleusis 125 
 
 High thoughts by emulous action grew 
 To loftier stature ; far and near 
 Through earth's sublimest atmosphere 
 
 On mutual wings our longings flew, 
 
 And near and far impetuous sought 
 No goal this side the perfect one, — 
 The true and everlasting sun, 
 
 The mighty master-soul of Thought. 
 
 Yet false as fair ! I lay at need, 
 As one who in the desert track 
 Of some lost caravan must lack 
 
 The sighing shelter of a reed. 
 
 So faith in human heart expired, 
 
 And through the earth alone I trod, 
 Till, doubting men, I doubted God 
 
 Were false as those his will had sired. 
 
 For more than swift volcanic fire, 
 
 And more than tides' unstinted flow, 
 Or the deep poignancy of woe 
 
 When Nature builds the funeral pyre, 
 
j 26 Eleusis 
 
 Far more than these rolls in to land 
 The tide of Self, destroying all — 
 The baron in his haughty hall, 
 
 Or fisher resting on the sand. 
 
 Heart-life is Death's superbest prey, 
 
 His conquest treading all things down, 
 And in his gem-incrusted crown 
 
 Shines forth with lustre like the day. 
 
Eleusis 12 
 
 / 
 
 XX. 
 
 But judging men by outward deed 
 
 Were shallow judgment, for the thought 
 Gives surer rule ; the rest is naught, — 
 
 But violets spring from violet-seed. 
 
 Still life is mystery at its best ; 
 
 Not subtlest hearing serves to tell 
 The sound of yonder minster-bell 
 
 When winds are blowing out the west. 
 
 And so I deem that songs divine 
 Are sung by every human heart, 
 Though I may lack the master's art 
 
 Of bringing them to living rhyme. 
 
128 Eleusis 
 
 XXI. 
 
 And yet to some a subtler sense 
 Is heritage from Nature's hand, 
 Whereby their fellows' hearts are scanned 
 
 Despite their barriers of defense. 
 
 To such the web more intricate 
 
 Of human thought reveals its clue, 
 And keen their insight to construe 
 
 What others bare enigmas rate. 
 
 These measure hearts, and fathom seas 
 Of mental ebb and moral flow, 
 And by unerring plummet know 
 
 What purpose rules, what motives please ; 
 
 Thus holding hidden reins of power 
 
 They leap to empire ; hap they climb 
 To thrones commensurate with time ; 
 
 Or wear the warrior's laurel flower ; 
 
Eleusis I2 9 
 
 Or, nobler, up the esplanade 
 
 Whereon great Learning rears her dome 
 They go sublime, and find a home 
 
 Eternal in her proud arcade. 
 
 Imperial pediments uphold 
 
 Their sculptured effigies, and high 
 Memorial columns kiss the sky, 
 
 While history writes their names in gold. 
 
 The true Illuminati they ; 
 
 Their demons not the shades that prest 
 At some magician's base behest 
 
 From the deep regions of decay, 
 
 But such as his who far — so far — 
 Transcended all the storied past, 
 Out-reasoned Reason, and at last 
 
 Glows ancient Athens' brightest star. 
 
130 Eleusis 
 
 XXII. 
 
 Yet, sage who trod the storied shade 
 
 Of Academe in days intense 
 
 With Reason's ripest evidence, 
 And felt proud Learning's accolade, 
 
 O hemlock-slain ! for whom a tear 
 
 Was dropped by Reason on her throne, 
 Thou couldst not pierce the deep unknown 
 
 Or see beyond the funeral bier ; 
 
 And raising ladders to the sky, 
 
 Or casting stepping-stones where glide 
 The silent river and its tide, 
 
 Thou couldst not reason out — to die! 
 
Eleusis ! 3 r 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 I dare not say (as he who sings 
 The proudest Teuton of them all) 
 That I in Learning's royal hall 
 
 Have sat the proudest of her kings, 
 
 Have swayed an empire broad and free 
 Within her ever-sunned domain, 
 Yet found the joys of knowledge vain, 
 
 And vain the pleasures of degree ; 
 
 Yet, as my feebler feet have trod 
 
 The paths which greater victors wore, 
 I see the graves of many a score 
 
 And everywhere the hillocked sod. 
 
 The way is hard, the laurels few ; 
 
 The heart shrinks up as swells the mind ; 
 
 And gloomy Care sits close behind 
 The rider as he struggles through. 
 
/J2 Eleusis 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 Be crowned, O Knowledge ! hail thee king, 
 Yet cnrse thy stern relentless reign, 
 For at thy hanghty feet in vain 
 
 In death of hope we weep and cling. 
 
 For tombs that line the iEgean sand, 
 
 The caves where wrapt Egyptians sleep, 
 Gray clods that nameless victors heap 
 
 In fair Ausonia's mined land, — 
 
 All these in ghostly voice combine 
 
 To sing, ' Ah, Learning ! empty name ! 
 The true, the pure Promethean flame 
 
 Has in it something more divine. 
 
 ' In portico, in grove, alone, 
 
 We sought the mystic key to find, 
 And learned that not the noblest mind 
 
 Can pass a limit of its own. 
 
Eleusis 133 
 
 * Remembered sound our names along 
 The echoing vistas, yet our fame 
 I- but the enhancement of a name 
 
 Embalmed in sweet melodic song. 
 
 1 And what to us the haughty school 
 
 That bears our names, or poet's pen ? 
 We lived our little span, and then 
 
 Who knows philosopher from fool ? ' 
 
i34 Eleusis 
 
 XXV. 
 
 I sometimes think, on lower planes 
 Of thought a better bliss is found, 
 And music of a simpler sound 
 
 To greater harmony attains. 
 
 With greater heart-life themes upswell 
 Whose rhythms less occultly knit ; — 
 Yet may it be the best are writ 
 
 In characters I cannot tell. 
 
 So love in humbler hearts is strong ; 
 The subtle music from the skies 
 Whose deep enchantment holds the wise 
 
 Will silence earth's divinest song ; 
 
 And so, who looks and longs to find 
 Life's sweetest nectar can but fail 
 If, giving heart to phantom pale, 
 
 He leaves love's substance quite behind. 
 
Eleusis 1 35 
 
 Spirit and passion intertwine 
 
 By more intense than eliemic art. 
 And who would live with perfect heart 
 
 Must mingle water with the wine, — 
 
 Must mingle each in due degree, 
 
 And gain with strength a royal grace, 
 Till life be as a golden vase 
 
 Graved by Firenze's prodigy. 
 
136 Eleusis 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 Proud heart, that, scorning human ties, 
 In knowledge seeks diviner bliss, 
 And holds affection's clinging kiss 
 
 As unbecoming, — art thou wise ? 
 
 Thou pressest on to undertake 
 
 A problem greater than thy skill, 
 Howe'er transcendent, can fulfill, 
 
 And, failing, dar'st to censure fate. 
 
 Give ear to Nature, lest she turn 
 
 To fight and slay thy strong desire, 
 And burning thee with inward fire 
 
 Consign thee to dishonored urn. 
 
Elensis i 37 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 O father, whose white-frosted head 
 
 Repeats the flight of years and strength, 
 Hast thou in age discerned at length 
 
 How soul may with its like be wed ? 
 
 And, gazing o'er the scenes that throng 
 The memory-chambers of the brain, 
 Dost feel the greater joy or pain 
 
 In that thy life has burned so long ? 
 
 What secret mysteries have been learned, 
 What deep arcana fathomed out ? 
 Art child of hope, or slave of doubt, 
 
 As toward the grave thy face is turned ? 
 
 Methinks thy smile with proof were rife : 
 
 Enough thy humble attitude ; 
 
 Enough the daily blessing sued, 
 And all the tenor of thy life. 
 
138 Eleusis 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 And what of her whose tenderness 
 Exceedeth ail the world beside, 
 A glorious never-ending tide 
 
 That heaven sendeth out to bless ! 
 
 O heart wherein all virtue lies ! 
 
 mother-hand ! O loving face ! 
 
 God's favorite earthly dwelling-place 
 Is in the heaven of thy eyes, 
 
 Of purity the flower and bud, 
 
 And love's divinest type and boon ; 
 Life turns with thee from night to noon, 
 
 And sees thee ever doing good. 
 
Eleusis / 39 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 Sweet confidence that brothers binds, 
 Untold the sister's tender love, 
 Which, like a blessing from above, 
 
 Through all the warp of manhood winds ; 
 
 The ready hands, the unwearied heart, 
 And smile concealing often pain, 
 The tears that like the gentle rain 
 
 In swift and ready pity start ; 
 
 Though all my life may seem undone, 
 Though woes impend in days to be, 
 Preserve, kind heaven, unto me, 
 
 This earthly blessing, if but one. 
 
*4° Eleusis 
 
 XXX. 
 
 dear, dead, early love of mine ! 
 
 In tears and weeping let me sing 
 How Death is lord of everything, 
 And conquers what seems most divine. 
 
 The days are dull with dripping rain ; 
 
 The stars have wandered from their spheres ; 
 
 The phantom forms of buried years 
 Come forth to mock my soul again ; 
 
 1 hear the footsteps of the dead 
 
 Go echoing through the silent night. 
 And to my sublimated sight 
 Returns the bride of yore I wed. 
 
 My heart in beatings swift recalls 
 The perfect union of my youth, — 
 Till the deep mantle of the truth 
 
 Dispels my vision as it falls. 
 
Eleusis l 4 l 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 To love, to lose, again to meet, 
 
 To clasp with rapture to the heart, 
 And then behold our joy depart, — 
 
 Oh, such is love's condign defeat. 
 
 For love was mine in days of yore ; 
 
 And then, with clinging voice and hand, 
 She sailed from this inclement land 
 
 To south and sunny island-shore. 
 
 The days passed by, the year grew old ; 
 
 Full many suns they rose and set ; 
 
 And many moons, their crescents wet, 
 Came dripping up from Ocean's cold, 
 
 Before her ship with happy sail 
 
 Came heaven-wafted o'er the sea, 
 And my dear love came back to me 
 
 With cheek that was no longer pale. 
 
14 2 Eleusis 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 For love will live, though lovers part ; 
 
 And distance makes the absent sweet ; 
 
 And hearts that once together beat 
 Nor time nor space can tear apart. 
 
 And eve is sweetest following toil ; 
 
 Divinest joy from sorrow springs ; 
 
 And an intenser sense of things 
 Indwells the mystery of recoil. 
 
 But joy's supremest moment flies 
 
 Like some swift bird, or swifter dream, 
 Or falling star whose dazzling beam 
 
 Lights up the heavenly slope and dies. 
 
 And so my love athwart my life 
 
 Passed, leaving radiant memories there ; 
 
 Sweet memory but intense despair 
 And sorrow's carnival of strife. 
 
Be u sis *43 
 
 For ere the wedding year grew hale, 
 Her soft caresses grew more weak ; 
 love ! O hope ! I cannot speak 
 
 Of what I could not countervail. 
 
l 44 Eleusis 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 How dear your memory, forest wide, 
 Beneath whose ample linden-lines 
 Clad in the wild grape's gracious vines 
 
 We met that golden eventide. 
 
 So sweet the songs she sang at will 
 
 To charm the listening woodland round 
 Meseemed some glorious nymph had crowned 
 
 Her lover by the sylvan rill. 
 
 And, lightly parting boughs that meet, 
 Unseen I saw her where she sate 
 Throned on the golden leaves that wait 
 
 The bitter coming of the sleet. 
 
 joyous eve, O royal hours 
 
 That brought the prize and palm of life ! 
 
 Ye fled as flies in Autumn strife 
 The gay queen-carnival of flowers. 
 
Elensis ] 45 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 So softly kiss, religious yew, 
 
 The velvet of yon hillock's crest ; 
 Breathe gently, zephyrs, from your west, 
 
 And fragrant leaves, wild roses, strew, — 
 
 For she is lying here ; above 
 
 Weeps always pensive asphodel, 
 And fond memorial verses tell 
 
 The birth, the life, the death of love. 
 
 For hope has fled with love away ; 
 
 My Summer yields to Autumn rain ; 
 
 And ere the Winter bow again 
 Before the rose-decked wheels of May, 
 
 The cold pine branches as they wave 
 
 Shall dirge her lately frozen mound, 
 
 And winding-sheets of snow be bound 
 
 About her lonely northern grave. 
 10 
 
146 Eleusis 
 
 Give ear, O wind that tireless flows 
 An ocean round the whirling world, 
 Be not in roughest billows hurled 
 
 Above her canopy of snows ; 
 
 Sing, softly sing, and do not weep 
 In anger with the giant Death, 
 But come with music on thy breath 
 
 To soothe her where she lies asleep. 
 
 But me, no suns can warm anew ; 
 No song outsing my threnody : 
 For she was all in all to me, 
 . And I, O love, was all to you. 
 
 
Eleusis 147 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 Yet wherefore sorrow ? Surely this 
 Were better far than life's deep pain, 
 And sweeter than the world's disdain 
 
 Is Nature's pure untrammelled kiss. 
 
 eyes whose glance was all delight ! 
 
 O heart that sympathetic beat ! 
 lips and kisses swift and sweet ! 
 So soon to lose ye, — was it right ? 
 
 1 cast me clown along thy side ; — 
 
 heaven, if thee I did not dread, 
 Far better, better to be dead 
 Than live when love must be denied. 
 
 For nowhere find I heart to feel 
 For mine in this intenser grief, 
 And out no human soul relief 
 
 Comes swiftly answering my appeal. 
 
148 Eleusis 
 
 As one who in the silent night 
 
 Grows weak with phantoms strange and dire, 
 
 And feels a conquerless desire 
 For human touch or human sight, 
 
 So I, with sorrow bowed, demand 
 Some word to give me half relief, 
 And in the trembling of my grief 
 
 Would clasp some kindly human hand. 
 
 Yet Sorrow bids me live alone ; 
 
 My castle-gate no guests unclose ; 
 
 And the sole friend who feels my woes 
 Lies under yon escutcheoned stone. 
 
 I weep for higher aid than comes 
 From human love's intensest tie ; 
 'T is heaven alone can calm the cry 
 
 Of heart-bereaved and widowed ones. 
 
 
Elensis l 49 
 
 xxxvi. 
 
 So love has failed me ! divine. 
 My weary spirit, is there more 
 In human heart's most inmost core 
 
 Than love when love and life combine ? 
 
 The mind is naught, and naught the heart, 
 And Nature lies in endless sleep ; 
 So am I left anew to weep 
 
 The shattered pantheon of my art, — 
 
 To weep, till, eyes with weeping blind, 
 A new Bellerophon, I grope 
 The Aleian plain whose narrow scope 
 
 But types my blind and barriered mind. 
 
 Like him to course the doubled track, 
 But not, alas ! like him to die ; 
 Bruised, bleeding, blind, I groan and sighy- 
 
 The Eternal Silence answers back. 
 
LESSER POEMS 
 
A LEGEND OF THE HARTZ. 
 
 i. 
 
 The step of Spring was on the plain, 
 
 Her step upon the mountain ; 
 The songs of birds were heard again, 
 
 Again the merry fountain. 
 
 The pulsing hearts of tree and flower 
 
 Impassionate were swelling; 
 And love, in cottage and in tower, 
 
 His happy tale was telling. 
 
 'T was then, where down the burnished side 
 Of mountain streamlets quiver, 
 
 Sweet Edith at the eventide 
 Sate singing to the river. 
 
 II. 
 
 1 Sweet stream, sweet stream whose lips are babbling 
 
 ever, 
 Sweet stream that sings, or sun or stormy weather, 
 
i$4 ^ Legend of the Hart^ 
 
 Sweet stream that drinks the tears of balsam trees, 
 
 And, mountain-born, art bride of distant seas, 
 
 I love thee well, I love thy lusty tide 
 
 That headlong sweeps adown the mountain-side ; 
 
 I love thee well ; by loving banks embraced, 
 
 How oft the Fairies on thy breast have raced, 
 
 How oft the Elves, in boats of oaken leaf, 
 
 Or launched in shallop of the pitch-pine's sheath, 
 
 How oft they float beneath the moon along, 
 
 And sing enchanted melodies of song ! 
 
 Meseems some fairy, lost in chalice wide 
 
 Of white pond-lily, here has wept and sighed, 
 
 Has sighed and wept, till 'neath the evening star 
 
 Her fleet Sir Lover hastened from afar, 
 
 Tore down the barriers of her prison-cell 
 
 And rescued her his fairy-heart loved well. 
 
 In Nature's realm they love, I well do ween, 
 
 For love is king, and love must have his queen. 
 
 The lilies kiss the answering ripe-red rose, 
 
 The great pine giant out his strong arms throws ; 
 
 Rocks may be silent, yet to love's finesse 
 
 Silence hath charms that words do not possess. 
 
 Sweet stream, that I upon thy loving tide 
 
zA Legend of the Hart^ 155 
 
 Might see my lover in his shallop glide, 
 O stream, to me whose heart is prisoner too, 
 Bring floating on a lover bold and trne : 
 For 'neath my tree since yonder noon I wait, 
 Waiting I long, but yet my lord is late ; 
 Longing I wait, but these are vain to bring 
 My lord, my life, my darling and my king. 
 But who is he ? My king I do not know, 
 No lover mine save whom my dreams bestow ; 
 No lover mine, and yet I long to call 
 Some one true heart my own, my all in all ; 
 For dreams are sweet, but yet, but yet, I wis, 
 Dreams are but cold beside a true love's kiss.' 
 
 III. 
 
 She sang; and shadows from the duskier east 
 Came climbing higher to the mountain-side ; 
 
 The Brocken birds from many a distant feast 
 Flew fleetly homeward at the even-tide. 
 
 The day was done, and so her singing ceased ; 
 
 She watched the west clouds as their color died, 
 
 And then her eyelids o'er their blue founts fell, 
 
 While sleep enchained her with his magic spell. 
 
156 iA Legend of the Hart^ 
 
 Yet an she wake, O Marie Mother sweet, 
 
 Grant that she slumber till the night be o'er ! 
 
 For waking now, — ah, better storm and sleet, 
 Suns of Moluccas, cold of Labrador, 
 
 Than, waking when the revel at its heat, 
 
 She gaze on sights that none have seen before, 
 
 Save they, who, dealing in accursed arts, 
 
 Fly from the wide world to the haunted Hartz. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Hark ! From the darker gloom 
 
 What are the voices loud ? 
 The earth is opening her womb, 
 
 And the cliffs have toppled and bowed. 
 
 Listen ! The tree-tops talk, 
 
 And the owlets hoot and call ; 
 
 Giants stumble and walk 
 
 On the tip-top mountain wall. 
 
 See ! The will-o'-the-wisp 
 
 Is flitting from marsh to mead ; 
 
 Twiglets are crackling crisp, 
 And rustles the river-reed. 
 
zA Legend of the Hart{ 757 
 
 List ! The voice of the glen 
 
 Matters in accents deep ; 
 Snakes are astir in the fen, 
 
 And wild mice chatter and squeak. 
 
 Full is the air with shapes, 
 
 Loud with a whirring of wings ; 
 
 Thick o'er the murky lakes 
 
 Go forms and phantoms of things. 
 
 Loud is the roar of the trees, 
 
 Beaten a path in the air ; 
 And eyes on the whirling breeze 
 
 Shine out with a lurid glare. 
 
 V. 
 
 Sleep with brooding pinions 
 
 Hover o'er her now, 
 Shed your lulling perfumes, 
 
 Blooms from tree and bough. 
 
 Breezes bring narcotic 
 
 Melodies, and weave 
 Spells, O magic mountain, 
 
 Who lovest to deceive. 
 
158 zA Legend of the Hart{ 
 
 Hush ! This magic circle 
 Cannot be transgressed ; 
 
 Innocence hath sentinels 
 
 To meet the powers unblest. 
 
 Hush! Though these be thronging, 
 Yet their ranks divide ; 
 
 While the maiden slumbers 
 They are all defied. 
 
 VI. 
 
 The king of the gnomes — the king ! 
 
 From the rivers of molten gold, 
 From a palace whose turrets sing 
 
 Of the wealthy stores they hold, 
 
 Hark ! He is coming, is here, 
 
 But his haughty step is stayed ; 
 
 The mountain has dropped a tear, 
 And a sob has thrilled the glade. 
 
 Hark ! He is hearing a spell 
 
 That is stronger than his can be, 
 
 Though lord of the powers that dwell 
 Deep under the mountain's knee. 
 
tA Legend of the Hart^ 159 
 
 And his passion must loose its bow 
 
 From the arrow of his intent ; 
 For magical flowerets grow 
 
 Around the innocent. 
 
 TO. 
 Through the night she slumbers sweet, 
 
 Though the mountain-turrets reel ; 
 Though the mystic myriads meet, 
 
 Though the thunders peal. 
 
 Dance demoniac, lyres profound 
 Sounding from the hosts of Hell, 
 
 Wake her not, for she is bound 
 With a mightier spell. 
 
 Elfs have led the goblins fast, 
 
 Gnomes with witches breathless fly, 
 
 Till Walpurgis night is past, 
 And the revels die. 
 
 Sweet is sleep if in the heart 
 
 Dwells the pure, diviner flame, 
 
 Vanquishing with heavenly art 
 What would sully fame. 
 
160 zA Legend of the Hart{ 
 
 VIII. 
 The village was royal with crowns of May, 
 
 The apples were pink and white ; 
 And the daisies were twinkling unto the day, 
 
 As the stars to the darker night. 
 
 For the year had crowned and decked the spring 
 
 With a diadem of degree ; 
 And the vassal breezes gaily bring 
 
 Their gifts from the southern sea. 
 
 The odors of roses, of violets fair, 
 And the fresh and fragrant pine, 
 
 And the voice of the warm impulsive air, 
 Are singing a song divine. 
 
 The day is fading, the revel begun, 
 
 They are dancing the well-cut green ; 
 
 Of maids they are crowning the fairest one, 
 Sweet Edith, to be their Queen. 
 
 Who steppeth him here with a royal tread, 
 
 And into the mazy dance, 
 His golden hair on his haughty head 
 
 Bound up with a golden lance ? 
 
tA Legend of the Hart{ 161 
 
 Ah, fair sweet queen, your king he is come, 
 He is seeking the dancers through ; 
 
 Of all the maidens he seeks but one, 
 Fair queen, it is you, it is you ! 
 
 The revel is over, the stars are gone 
 
 To their beds beneath the sea ; 
 But the maiden's heart is singing a song 
 
 As sweet as a song can be. 
 
 And he leads her home to her cottage gate ; 
 
 They part till tomorrow's eve ; 
 O day, thou art long, 't is long to wait, 
 
 For love when he waits must grieve. 
 
 IX. 
 
 4 Haste, day, that keeps my longing love from me ; 
 Haste, day, wherein my love I cannot see ; 
 Haste, day, that art but heralder of night. 
 
 ; Speed, sun, toward the ardence of the west ; 
 Speed, sun, to night, who loves thee much the best ; 
 Speed, sun, and bring the sun of love's delight. 
 11 
 
1 62 zA Legend of the Hart% 
 
 6 Come, night, that hast so softly-sandalled feet ; 
 Come, night, that art so nimble yet so sweet ; 
 Come, come, and speed my true love to my sight. 
 
 ' Come, love, with voice that speaking seems to sing ; 
 Come, love, who art the very breath of Spring ; 
 Come, love, and hastening let me crown thee King.' 
 
 So sang sweet Edith ; then the unheeded lyre 
 
 Fell mute and broken from her listless hand ; 
 For o'er the hedge of rose-embroidered briar 
 
 She sees love's locks by evening breezes fanned. 
 She sees him treading to a royal tune, 
 
 To love's sweet ode that gaily trips along ; 
 And out the east the white and jocund moon 
 
 Laughed as he sang his own responsive song. 
 
 6 The day has fled ; oh, happy hour of flight ! 
 Fled is the day, now comes the happier night ; 
 The day is fled, and love may breathe more free. 
 
 6 The stars are peeping from their golden e'en ; 
 The sky is dropping pearls upon the green ; 
 The night is smiling, love, for me and thee. 
 
zA Legend of the Hart% i6? 
 
 i Sweet love, come forth imto thy cottage gate ; 
 Sweet love, come forth, I cannot longer wait ; 
 Come forth, sweet love, and clasp thy lover mate/ 
 
 She has flown to the gate, to her golden-locked lover, 
 As smiles nnto sunshine, as color to wine ; 
 
 She has flown as in spring-time the amorous plover, 
 Or the honey-bee unto the eglantine. 
 
 The daisies beneath and the stars in the heaven 
 Alike were singing a burst of song, 
 
 And the Hyads, the weeping, the desolate Seven, 
 Smiled once in the ages, nor deemed it a wrong. 
 
 They have thridded the lane, and are under the 
 linden ; 
 The birds from their nests are peeping them out; 
 
 The leaves all rustled their best and hymned them, 
 
 And the night-breezes whispered the story about. 
 
 O'er the meadows they trod, by river and fountain ; 
 
 They hastened the mystical stream across ; 
 On, onward they passed to the passionate mountain, 
 
 And over the Brocken cliffs hoary with moss. 
 
164 *A Legend of the Hart^ 
 
 But the moon went down, and the eastern riding 
 Grew rosy, — but where are the lovers twain ? 
 
 The Spring to the Summer went swiftly sliding, 
 And Winter was lord of his own again. 
 
 And the years flew on to wed each other ; 
 
 The villagers dance in many a May, 
 The lane is all white, and the honey-bees hover, 
 
 But the flower-crowned Queen is far away. 
 
 For her lover, a gnome, had woven around her 
 A thralldom of mystical spells and arts, 
 
 And deep in the mountain halls they crowned her 
 The Empress and Queen of the haunted Hartz. 
 
 Deep in the mountain she dwells forever, 
 Deep in the mountain, ah me ! ah me ! 
 
 And she weeps and she longeth with vain endeavour 
 To kneel once more at her mother's knee. 
 
BELLEROPHON. 
 
 Now am I come — as not my sightless eyes, 
 But yonder thudding of the ceaseless strand, 
 Makes me announcement — where before me lies 
 The Austral ocean and the Indian sand. 
 The spray that rolls from breezes south and tanned 
 Blisters my brow. O south and torrid shore ! 
 With tottering feet, with blind and groping hand, 
 I come to tread thy loneliness once more, 
 And sightless to thy face hear thy eternal roar. 
 
 Behind me lies the broad Aleian plain, — 
 The loneliest plain that faces to the sky, — 
 Across which, groping with unceasing pain, 
 I course forever, — for I cannot die. 
 O heartless plain, and earless to my cry ! 
 A thousand thousand are the paths I wear 
 On thy broad back ; and Night, who does defy 
 For most the spear of sorrow and of care, 
 For me may bring no rest, but doubles up despair. 
 
1 66 Heller ophon 
 
 Yet was I dear and darling of the Gods, 
 As witness be, O steed, immortal sprung, 
 That feeding erst the rich Pierian sods 
 Athene gave with gift-bestowing tongue. 
 Once was I darling, — but Ambition flung 
 His gleaming miracles before my eyes, 
 And Fame misled me with her strident lung. 
 Alas, the man whom but one thing defies, 
 This will he gain or lose, and in the losing dies. 
 
 What was my crime ? Oh, were temptation now 
 To seize my spirit as it did of yore, 
 Meseems I'd risk the dire Promethean plough 
 To do what man had never done before. 
 For who would linger alway on the shore, 
 Nor dare the infinite, the boundless wave ? 
 What living soul would not impassioned soar 
 The unseen heights of limitless space to brave 
 And conquer knowledge, or in striving find a 
 grave ? 
 
 Hear me, O plain ! Is daring much a crime ? 
 For who more daring than the Olympian King ? 
 Ambition gained his monarchy divine ; 
 To conquer Fate is double conquering. 
 
Hellerophon i6j 
 
 For Destiny within enchanted ring 
 Sits muttering words of magic might and power ; 
 The daring soul can greater magic bring, 
 O'erleap the circle, make the sibyl cower, 
 And seize the talisman that rules the eventful hour. 
 
 I was Bellerophon, and to my daring 
 The world was thrall ; from east to western sea 
 Flew Fame, my deeds in trumpet voice declaring, 
 While haughty Princes grovelled at my knee. 
 Empires and kingdoms were my daily fee, 
 And Envy's breath in madding tempest blew, — 
 Yet Envy's self was not a match for me. 
 To higher heights my conquering purpose flew, 
 And what to fail had been my spirit never knew. 
 
 But what are mountains, if exultant lean 
 Loftier pinnacles ? And what is fame 
 Men have achieved, if yet beyond are seen 
 Princelier trophies and a prouder name ? 
 Triumphs are naught, and victory goes lame, 
 While yet beyond are mural heights unwon. 
 Ambition flies to quench his soul of flame 
 In the broad surges that unbounded run, 
 Unmoled, unsailed, unseen by any save the sun. 
 
/<5S "Belleropbon 
 
 Then on the coursers of mine own intent 
 I flew from men to dominate the sky ; 
 How, O fair Goddess, was thy bow unbent ? 
 I passed Orion, heard the Hyads cry, 
 Who weeping ever in their chamber lie ; 
 Along I passed the proud Olympian way, 
 Whose brazen roofs and turrets lifting high 
 Hephaestos made, the eternal legends say, 
 For his rich brethren Gods on some forgotten day. 
 
 At last I came where hung the mighty shield — 
 
 The Olympian aegis by his pillared door ; 
 
 Thrice did I strike, and thrice the summons pealed 
 
 To wake the echoes of the brazen floor. 
 
 ' Come forth,' I cried, c O Zeus, and hand me o'er 
 
 Thy boasted potence and thy broken reign.' 
 
 Thrice did I cry, and thrice defiance roar: 
 
 No God came forth, — the echoes died again, — 
 
 And silence reigned around each dwelling and each 
 fane. 
 
 I piled my arms the portal there below, — 
 My dinted arms his aegis have defied, — 
 And now I mount the palace steps, when lo ! 
 Fair Maia's son alighted by my side, 
 
"Belle rophon 169 
 
 With winged slioon that over aery tide 
 Bear him as swift as arrow from its bow. 
 Oh, woe is me ! far better to have died 
 In that proud moment, than abased so 
 To linger years a slave in one eternal woe ! 
 
 < Hail, double darling of the Gods and men ! ' 
 Thus he addressed me, < from the distant stream 
 Where the swart Ethiops in rich grottoed glen 
 Banquet the Gods, I saw thy weapons gleam, 
 As up thou strodest, the brazen floors between ; 
 So have I sped me, nor will Zeus incline 
 His steeds to Heaven till the sun's slant beam 
 Maketh his path. So quaff the heavenly wine, 
 And till great Zeus return within my house recline/ 
 
 Then, ushered on by Maia's guileful son, 
 Beneath his portals I at ease repair, 
 And couched, to serve us heavenly maidens run — 
 The Hephaestian daughters, beautiful and rare. 
 For he with motion as of living fair 
 Had erst endowed these minions of his skill ; 
 So thrust away the guardian form of care, 
 To deeper draughts the beakers thrice we fill, 
 And thrice again, alas ! thus did the Fates fulfil ! 
 
iyo Heller ophon 
 
 Woe is the wretch who in victorious hour 
 
 Is lulled to parley or insane delay ; 
 
 The vanquished foe must feel the victor's power, 
 
 Or victory turns her languid lord to slay. 
 
 hour accurst ! O thrice accursed day ! 
 When, lured to banquets and by tongue of guile, 
 
 1 cast the throne of mighty Zeus away, 
 My potent arms in vain defiance pile, 
 
 And trade omnipotence for one beguiling smile. 
 
 For mandragora and the poppy, bringing 
 Unconsciousness, the traitor mingled in ; 
 And Nemesis, with solemn, sombre singing, 
 Came chanting Pride's eternal funeral hymn. 
 Then to this plain, where never man had been, 
 Robbed of my daring, of ambition's thrill, — 
 The slave when fortune taunted me to win, — 
 They hurled me captive to a fettered will : 
 Aye, I am captive now . . be still, proud heart, be 
 still! 
 
 Such is my story, O Aleian plain ! 
 Oft have ye heard it, but to speak is sweet ; 
 For words allay the prisoned sense of pain, 
 And misery loves her murmur to repeat, 
 
"Belle rophon iji 
 
 To sing her woe, her strivings and defeat, 
 Or fill the sky with plaintive ode and song, 
 In hope that air, upon his pinion fleet, 
 May hear the strains his vagrant way along, 
 And somewhere find an ear to listen to her wrong. 
 
 Such is the madness of unbridled pride, 
 And such forever is Ambition's end ; 
 Who dares to mount the thunderbolt astride 
 Must risk its potence and its power to rend. 
 The wind-whisked leaflet riseth to descend ; 
 The arrow, soaring to the vaulted sky, 
 The limit reached, no longer may contend 
 With the strong earth, but cometh soon to lie 
 Lost in the tall rank grass or in the rustling rye. 
 
 Ah, there are limits, though they be unseen, 
 Will cannot pass ; the eye of Sense is blind, 
 Fancy herself is only vassal queen, 
 And barriers bristle for the soaring mind. 
 Who flies to Heaven leaveth pride behind, 
 And all the passions of his mortal frame ; 
 The earth, the sea, the mountain-tops are lined 
 With wrecks of souls, who, daring all for fame, 
 Flew on Icarian wings, but gave no sea a name. 
 
i j 2 Heller ophon 
 
 This failed I seeing in my daring youth, 
 And thought to seize the sceptre ere my time ; 
 Yet in my crime there lurked a germ of truth — 
 'T is this : that men at last become divine. 
 Their bodies die, but from its dark confine, 
 Flying as current to its kindred pole, 
 As monarch to the palace of his line, 
 So goes at last the free enfranchised soul 
 Unto its native skies, to its ancestral whole. 
 
 But then, but dimly of this mystery knowing, 
 I mounted Heaven to my endless shame ; 
 For not to daring Heaven comes bestowing 
 Her royal gifts, her true diviner flame, — 
 But of these secrets somewhat thus I gain 
 From misery and wretchedness, but more 
 From one who lives eternally in fame, 
 And bound by Fate where snowy summits soar, 
 Fate brought me once to him : O Fate, that hour 
 restore ! 
 
 For wandering once (oh, well-remembered years !) 
 Amid lone mountains, groping — for my eyes, 
 Blinded by lightning, made me slave of fears, — 
 Wandering, meseems I hear above me cries 
 
"Belle rophon 17} 
 
 Of human voice : I listen : echo dies, — 
 When yet again a shriek as from a dart ; 
 Aloud I cry, ' Who art thou ? ' Then replies, 
 1 I am a wretch, the slave of cruel art, 
 Chained to a crag, while, ah, a vulture tears my heart/ 
 
 Ah, then I knew the Promethean was at hand ; 
 Again I spoke : ' Titan, to thy side, 
 And blinded sight will give my feet command 
 O'er rocks, I come if but thy voice will guide/ 
 Then toiling painfully athwart the tide 
 Of swaying boulders and sharp-sided stone, 
 At length, the peril and the toil defied, 
 I grasped his hand, — I, whom of men alone 
 His hand had felt, his eye for ages long had known. 
 
 I sat by the Promethean where he lay, 
 And thrust the vulture from his living feast ; 
 An hour the torments of his side allay, 
 His shrieks, his groans, his woe, a moment ceased, 
 And could a man, I had his chains released. 
 In converse swift the godlike moments fly, 
 When, speeding out the hot and treacherous east, 
 Kratos and Bia, with avengeful cry, 
 Hurl me afar where thou, Aleian plain, dost lie. 
 
\J4 Heller opbon 
 
 But in that hour, as memory repeats, 
 He spake these words : ' Take heart, Bellerophon. 
 Conquest is dearer after sore defeats, 
 As storms enhance the glory of the sun. 
 What has been once, hereafter shall be done ; 
 The eternal wheel brings all things uppermost ; 
 Though long it be, the cycle will be run, 
 And the chained captives of a tyrant's boast 
 Behold the tyrant crushed and all his tyrant host 
 
 ' Passion and hate, the right and wrong alike, 
 Are seething, seething with uneasy motion ; 
 Their stormy waves the eternal sides re-strike, 
 As mighty surgings of the boundless ocean. 
 Where is the seer to silence the commotion, — 
 The great magician with resistless spell 
 That breathed composes as an eastern potion 
 All restless heaving, each convulsive swell? 
 Where is he ? Air, earth, ocean, — who of you can 
 tell? 
 
 ' " He is not Zeus," the eternal secrets say, 
 " He is not Zeus," for this I suffer now ; 
 And mad that I would not the Fates display, 
 He chained my hand — my heart he could not cow ! 
 
Heller opbon 175 
 
 So doth this vulture with his beaked plough 
 Ravage my side and feed upon my pain, 
 And night and day unpitying smite my brow ; 
 My blood these cliffs with ceaseless torments stain, 
 These adamantine rings my writhing limbs restrain. 
 
 1 Yet what is conquered ? Not my bendless will, 
 Xor yet my spirit, yielcleth to affright. 
 Fettered I am, but am Prometheus still ! 
 Fetters are freedom if intent be right. 
 A moment yieldeth to the hand of might, 
 But the eternal ages — they are free ; 
 And rolling onward in their stately flight, 
 They bear the car of royal victory, 
 Of truth whose realm shall be for all eternity. 
 
 ' Take heart, take heart ! the endless spaces quiver ; 
 Afar they feel a greater victor's tread ; 
 As distant rolling of a mighty river, 
 I hear the chariots thundering overhead. 
 I feel the portents — Justice is not dead; 
 A greater God than Zeus is on his way ; 
 The great stars tremble at his stately tread, 
 The planets dim before his brilliant ray, — 
 Long may the dawning be,but dawn will bring the day.' 
 
ij6 'Bellerophon 
 
 Thus spake the Titan. Many an age has rolled 
 To greet its brethren in their stately tomb, 
 And yet he comes not whom the God foretold. . • 
 Oh, open up, great Universe, thy womb ! 
 Send forth the Avatar his realm to assume, 
 With Truth and Justice as his heralds great ; 
 Ease for the Titan his surpassing doom ; 
 Turn for Bellerophon the wheel of fate, 
 Or woe will conquer us and thou wilt come too 
 late ! 
 
 For both do suffer, — he for doing right 
 Is gnawed forever by a ceaseless woe ; 
 I, plunged for crime to loneliness and night, 
 Feel not the shadow of his hourly throe. 
 Yet the eternal ages come and go — 
 O Gods ! O Gods ! shall he at last be free ? 
 Shall I have paid the penalty I owe ? 
 Justly I suffered — but, O Heaven ! he 
 Suffers for virtue. Now Justice is mystery ! 
 
 O veiled and subtle mystery ! no eye 
 Impenetrates thy solemn dusk retreat. 
 The centuries wheel their fainting coursers by, 
 The aeons dead departed seons meet. 
 

 Heller opbou ijj 
 
 Yet Justice sitteth in her secret seat, 
 Her calm intents pursuing to their end ; 
 Ages lie panting at her haughty feet, — 
 What are they all but vassals who attend, 
 Who live, who die, as she her mighty will may bend ? 
 
 But I am weaker than the slender reed 
 That quaffs Euphrates in the time of rain ; 
 I feel the sense of some undying need, 
 And pant to drink a Lethe of my pain. 
 O Austral wave ! O broad Aleian plain ! 
 O sun incessant ! Winds that hissing blow 
 From desert Araby ! O moons that wane, 
 And stars that stately on your courses go ! 
 lear my lament, oh, let the Avatar hear and know ! 
 
 Do not delay, O spirit of the vast 
 
 And fathomless distance where in aery tower 
 
 The spheres are singing — for thou art the last 
 
 And only hope of misery chained by power. 
 
 Come with thy panoply, whereat shall cower 
 
 The tyrant race that hold the world in thrall ; 
 
 Strike for the world the great ecstatic hour ; 
 
 Enthrone thyself within thy palace hall, 
 
 rid bring the reign of Truth to overshadow all ! 
 12 
 
iy8 Heller opbon 
 
 Silence, my heart ! — again I feel the hand 
 That drags me weary from the silent sea ; 
 Again I tread thee, O Aleian sand ! 
 How weary, weary, must thou be of me ! 
 Farewell, O rock ! — I cannot stay with thee ; 
 My weakling will is captive as of yore ! — 
 I go — alas ! what triple agony 
 Drags me incessant ! — O dull thudding shore ! 
 O plain ! have ye no heart to pity and deplore ? 
 

 THE SECRET OF MAY. 
 
 * May is my month of the year.' 
 
 ' Oh, tell me, tell me why ! 
 Whisper it soft in my ear, 
 Ere another moment fly.' 
 
 * May is my month supreme, 
 
 Whatever the reason be ; 
 Its buds and its blossoms gleam 
 With a perfect joy for me.' 
 
 € Is it that apples are white 
 
 With the passion of the spring ? 
 Is it that moonlit night 
 
 Brings fragrance on her wing ? ' 
 
 1 No, it is not for these, 
 
 Though the apples are fair and sweet, 
 And the voice of the morning breeze 
 Sings out with a joy complete.' 
 
f3o The Secret of May 
 
 ' No ? O my dear, my dear, 
 
 Tell me, oh, tell me why, — 
 Whisper it soft in my ear, 
 
 For the moments are hastening by I 
 
 ' Tell me, and let me know, 
 
 And I'll never, never repeat 
 The words you have whispered low : 
 Oh, why is May so sweet ? ' 
 
 c Oh, you enchantress you, 
 
 The secret is not mine, 
 It is there where the violets blue 
 Worship the eglantine ; 
 
 i It is yonder where thickest sleep 
 The shadows near the glen, — 
 Where the water with graceful sweep,, 
 Goes down to the city of men. 
 
 6 There is my secret, dear ; 
 
 Do you know, or wonder still ? 
 If either, incline your ear, 
 
 And you shall have your will. 
 
The Secret of May 181 
 
 1 Why do I love the May ? 
 
 Oh, dearest of all, you know, 
 I loved you many a day — 
 But in May I told you so ! ' 
 
HADRIAN'S LAMENT OVER ANTINOUS. 
 
 The East is dead ; her faded breast unbeating 
 
 Young Memnon hath forgot ; 
 Her soft caress, her wonted morning greeting, 
 
 To him she bringeth not. 
 
 Long-lingering Night, with stricken wings disjointed, 
 
 Lies prone and weeping here, 
 Her purple raiment for a pall appointed 
 
 To veil Antinous' bier. 
 
 The lotos drips with crystal tears a-flowing, 
 And the low palms look down ; 
 
 The field that yester had its fructive sowing 
 Shall never wear its crown. 
 
 Sadly yon Pyramid, in lieu of weeping, 
 
 Crumbleth his corner-stone ; 
 Sadly the Sphinx, his deathless vigil keeping, 
 
 Mourneth in tongue unknown. 
 
Hadrian's Lament over z/Jntinoiis 183 
 
 Planets and stars, that, full and lustrous swinging, 
 
 Revealed me not his doom, 
 Dim veils enshroud ; for we are sadly bringing 
 
 Antinotts to his tomb. 
 
 Why art thou dead ? Oh, lost beyond recover, 
 
 I wear the crown of pain ; 
 And thou and death compel me to discover 
 
 The limits of my reign ! 
 
 O envious mask, that fading face concealing, 
 
 And burial-bands, — away ! 
 Hath Egypt then no secret power of healing 
 
 To baffle life's decay ? 
 
 Unseal thy lips, O priest in spicerie lying ! 
 
 My diadem to thee, 
 If in this hour thou wilt the cure of dying 
 
 Reveal to him and me. 
 
 Unveil the mystic treasures of thy learning, — 
 
 How the sun-eagle plumed 
 His fire-fledged pinions, — unto my discerning, 
 
 Lest he shall be entombed. 
 
184 Hadrian's Lament over tAntinous 
 
 Silence and darkness, and a dull foreboding : 
 
 My mystic spells are weak ; 
 And the proud lips that centuries fail corroding, 
 
 Alas, refuse to speak. 
 
 Oh, where is hope ? The speechless sands unceasing 
 
 Blow out the desert vast ; 
 The sullen stream, now ebbing, now increasing, 
 
 Slides still and voiceless past. 
 
 Awake ! Awake ! This is but deeper sleeping ; 
 
 Some dull narcotic flower 
 Thy garland left, and to thy wine-cup creeping 
 
 Infused its subtle power. 
 
 Yainly I call. O heart in sorrow dwelling, 
 
 Wring out thy bitter tears ! 
 Sing, voice, sad voice, a dirge thy misery telling 
 
 To future days and years ! 
 
 For the world mourns, her hope and harvest blighted, 
 
 And I have broke my heart 
 O'er thee, dear one, who in thyself united 
 
 All cynosures of art. 
 
Hadrian's Lament over tAntinous 185 
 
 So droop your leaves, all trees the woods discover ; 
 
 And, clouds, conceal the sky ; 
 TVeep, Earth, who art the universal mother, 
 
 That he, thy hest, did die. 
 
 Grow pale, false stars ; and winds, with folded pinion, 
 
 Couch moaning in your cave ; 
 And love, yield up your mockery of dominion 
 
 That my Antinotis gave. 
 
 Yes, he is dead ; and, his fair life departed, 
 
 The world is naught to me ; 
 An Emperor here, a God, is broken-hearted, 
 
 Antinotis, for thee. 
 
 TVhat shall I bring, Bithynian, save my sorrow, 
 
 To deck thee for the tomb ? 
 These pageant wreaths will fade away to-morrow, 
 
 The lotos lose its bloom. 
 
 Yet, more divine, thy image, wheresoever 
 
 Imperial Rome is great, 
 My power shall place, and as a God forever 
 
 Thou shalt be lord of Fate. 
 
186 Hadrian's Lament over zAntinous 
 
 Rise up a God, and thus o'ervanquish dying, 
 Which feeds on all that lives : 
 
 This is the gift that, heaven and earth defying, 
 Thy stricken Hadrian gives. 
 

 A VISION OF LOVE. 
 
 I looked to see, in all the rounded earth, 
 
 What motive brought devotion to its prime, 
 
 And from the pangs of constant death and birth 
 Ever lived on sublime. 
 
 I held within the circle of my quest 
 
 All thoughts that dwell within the hearts of men, 
 Hope, pride, endurance, longing for the best, 
 
 Failing, to strive again. 
 
 These ruled, but yielded to a greater hand, 
 
 Whose princely grasp was on the earth and sky ; 
 
 Love, woman's love, was potent to command 
 Selfhood to live or die. 
 
 From the new morn's unwritten vaguenesses 
 
 There came to me, once watching by the sea, 
 
 The form and voice of those great Empresses 
 Of Love's celebrity. 
 
1 88 zA Vision of Love 
 
 High on the wave's resplendent hemisphere 
 
 The stately rode who set the world on fire, — 
 
 The Achaian Queen, whose love-emblazoned year 
 Saw a great race expire. 
 
 Her face disclosed a consummate content, 
 
 Though pain had writ full many imprints there, 
 
 For her high soul in each supreme event 
 Conquered, through love, despair. 
 
 And from her throat in measured song arose 
 Such cadences as, floating to the shore, 
 
 Brought me dim knowledge of what weight of woes 
 Her love in patience bore. 
 
 ' For love I gave my country to disgrace ; 
 For love I stained my high ancestral race ; 
 All this for love, and love's supreme embrace. 
 
 ' For love I lost my proud resplendent throne ; 
 
 For love I fled to destinies unknown ; 
 
 All this for love, — but Paris was my own ! 
 
 6 Nor do I now repent of any deed ; 
 Love was my all, I answered to his need, 
 And love is love wherever love may lead.' 
 
zA Vision of Love 189 
 
 Then from the shores of lately conquered Crete 
 Sailed out the cause of Ariadne's pain ; 
 
 She by his side upon the helmsman's seat 
 Saw the swift planets wane. 
 
 All had she left, — her country and her sire, 
 
 Her native hearth and her untarnished fame ; 
 
 All were but naught, for love's resistless fire 
 Burned with a perfect flame. 
 
 From Naxos' isle she lifts her helpless hand 
 
 To call him back, but he has broke his vow ; 
 
 wretched sire ! O Cretan fatherland ! 
 
 Weep o'er your princess now. 
 
 1 Through love he found the toilsome triumph won ; 
 Through love his task and duty have been done ; 
 Through love he shines in glory as the sun. 
 
 ' Through love I lie on foreign shore and weep ; 
 Through love with scorn my memory men will keep ; 
 Through love I go all woes of time to reap. 
 
 1 Come pain, come all that can condignest be : 
 Ye are as naught, my love is more than ye, 
 And love though false is sacred still to me.' 
 
i go zA Vi&ion of Love 
 
 The purple isle had faded like a dream, 
 
 And floated off to other climes than this ; 
 
 The morning star sent one caressing beam 
 Her fading form to kiss. 
 
 Then to my eyes a queenly presence fair 
 
 Came issuing out the curving shore's embrace, 
 
 All orient-clad, rich jewels in her hair, — 
 The pearl of Syria's race. 
 
 6 1 sate high-throned in stately pillared halls, 
 And drank of empire ; at my mighty side 
 
 My king, my lord, — but woe to most befalls, 
 Yes, Odenathus died ! 
 
 6 1 won and wore Palmyra's royal crown ; 
 
 Imperial Rome lay breathless at my name : 
 August Zenobia, peerless in renown, 
 
 I gild the book of fame. 
 
 ' But glory lost its most seductive zest 
 
 When love fell down beneath the poisoned dart ; 
 Empire is sweet, but of all empires best 
 
 Is that of one fond heart ! ' 
 

 zA Vision of Love igi 
 
 She passed, and swift as tempest-driven sail 
 Burst to my eyes Verona's famous maid ; 
 
 Near her, his cheeks with love's high passion pale, 
 Her Romeo, death-betrayed. 
 
 1 Love, O my love ! dark was the tomb we knew ; 
 Dark, yea, but light, for love came passing through ; 
 Light is the grave if love lie buried too. 
 
 ' From death is life, and love outlives it all ; 
 Love is life's source, and death his entrance-hall ; 
 In life, in death, my heart obeys his call.' 
 
 Then, as the halo of the perfect sun 
 
 Uprose from out the distant vivid brine, 
 
 They poised on high, and, melting into one, 
 Floated to spheres divine. 
 
 And from the bend of shadow-girdled shore 
 Onward came speeding, as if swift to greet 
 
 One clad in dazzling garments. . . Oh, once more 
 I see sweet Marguerite. 
 
ig2 zA Vision of Love 
 
 Singing she came ; the dawn with rosy mouth 
 Echoed her notes with many a fairy lyre, 
 
 And the sweet birds just speeding from the south 
 Sang with a kindred fire. 
 
 < Love hath my all, but what is that to me ? 
 Love is my all, as love must rightly be ; 
 And love is lord, and must have victory. 
 
 i I glory much, though love have brought me shame ; 
 
 I glory much, for love is better fame ; 
 
 And shame and fame in love are but a name. 
 
 ' The eternal years have taught me truly this : 
 Whate'er may err, love cannot go amiss ; 
 From seeming wrong is born the flower of bliss. 
 
 4 Woe, pain, and scorn, which earth to love displays, 
 Are but like foes that haunt unlighted ways ; 
 Nor is love love that fear of same betrays. 
 
 1 When death reveals the secret of the soul, 
 Love shines the part and love the living whole, 
 And love sits lord and highest in control.' 
 
zA Vision of Love 193 
 
 Last of the queens whose hearts surmounted high 
 All foes to love, she passed in stately flight ; 
 
 And the full sun, now risen to the sky, 
 Banished the lingering night. 
 
 But from its beams serener glories flame ; 
 
 The imperial vault was singing overhead ; 
 The unseen spheres were sounding as they came, 
 
 And time and space seemed dead. 
 
 The narrow precincts that the senses know 
 Merged them in one eternal, endless room ; 
 
 All into all earth's half-seen mysteries flow 
 At love's imperial doom. 
 
 1 Love, love, O love ! thou art the seed of time ; 
 Love, love, O love ! thou art its fruit and prime ; 
 In thee, O love ! all earthly faults sublime. 
 
 6 Imperial ere time's cycle was begun, 
 Imperial when the creative task was done, — 
 In thee, from thee, the eternal currents run.' 
 
 13 
 
THE DOUBLE BIRTHDAY. 
 
 Beside a stream that swept dividing 
 From banks of purple banks of gold, 
 
 Two travellers stood at eventiding, 
 One rich late-summer day of old. 
 
 For her, full many winters speeding 
 Had wove a royal crown of gray ; 
 
 The other, life's broad page was reading 
 By manhood's full resplendent day. 
 
 So stood they on the banks together, 
 
 The twain, that fair late-summer night ; 
 
 Her hands were full of faded heather, 
 And his held roses red and white. 
 
 Then she : i September brings the golden 
 And double birthday to its place ; 
 
 It brings, as in the seasons olden, 
 Us, by the river, face to face.' 
 
The Double Birthday ig$ 
 
 And he, her hand in reverence pressing : 
 
 ' To thee be many birthdays more, 
 Each bearing rich and richer blessing 
 Than any that have gone before. 
 
 ' But oh, I pray the mystic learning 
 
 Which years have brought you, tell to me ; 
 That I, the true and false discerning, 
 May conquer life's deep mystery. 
 
 i Tell me how quicksands may be skirted, 
 
 And forests safely thridded ; say 
 What stately mansions stand deserted, 
 Or what foundations will decay. 
 
 i I long to see the forms that gliding 
 
 Unseen go flashing through the air, 
 To hear the unheard music hiding 
 Above, below, and everywhere. 
 
 1 And face to face with Nature striving 
 I would her deepest mystery scan ; 
 Would learn why unto death down-driving 
 She sweeps her noblest offspring — man. 
 
ig6 The Double Birthday 
 
 1 O thou who, years to years onspeeding, 
 
 Canst look with calm eye back on youth, — 
 Canst see the phantom forms misleading 
 
 That falsely garbed themselves as truth, — 
 
 8 Oh, grant to me this subtle learning 
 
 The sliding years have haply brought, 
 
 And show me where the torch is burning 
 
 That fires to high and noble thought.' 
 
 Then she, with voice that sank to sighing : 
 ' O friend, his life-task each must learn ; 
 Joy comes but after tears and crying, 
 And faith from desolation stern. 
 
 1 Soar not too high for things supernal ; 
 
 Of virtues not the least is this : 
 To view with reverence what the eternal 
 Has deigned with secret lips to kiss.' 
 
 Then stepped they to the brink together ; 
 
 His arm to aid her steps he cast; 
 And he with roses, she with heather, 
 
 Across the mystic streamlet passed. 
 
The Double Birthday igy 
 
 Then, landed on the farther marges, 
 
 ' O friend,' she said, * farewell, farewell ! 
 The cycle of our years enlarges, 
 
 And clearer grows the future's swell. 
 
 1 If in next year — the autumn plighted 
 To older autumns past and dead, — 
 One of us come in weeds bedighted 
 
 Alone where both were used to tread, 
 
 4 Let not the parting seem forever ; 
 This life is briefer than a sigh ; 
 And how can death be strong to sever 
 The souls that do not fear to die ? ' 
 
 And then — no longer both together — 
 
 Each trod alone as oft before ; 
 For he with roses, she with heather, 
 
 Had passed beyond the streamlet's shore. 
 
FLOWER SONGS. 
 
 Song of tfje iSnse. 
 
 This rich and fragrant Bon Silene 
 Types well my heart's impassioned queen. 
 
 Her cheeks as red, her breath as sweet, 
 Her soft lips like these petals meet, 
 
 And her sleep-wakened eyes disclose 
 A glimpse of heaven — as this rose. 
 
 About her, mystic perfumes float, 
 Fringing desire that was remote ; 
 
 tier clinging kisses inward steal, 
 Till I am hers for woe or weal ; 
 
 And to my will her potence sings 
 As Circe to the sea-tost kings. 
 
Flower Songs 199 
 
 5ong of tljc 5L£Ig. 
 
 Around this lily, white and tall, 
 Pure robes of innocency fall. 
 
 Her graceful throat, her head at ease, 
 A Phidian sensitiveness might please ; 
 
 And her demeanor, staid, serene, 
 Proclaims the long-descended queen. 
 
 Yet what are these when in the soul 
 Dear love hath not some slight control ? 
 
 For beauty lives but all in vain, 
 Unless dear love its life maintain ; 
 
 And purity untouched by fire 
 Is less than mortal men desire. 
 
200 Flower Songs 
 
 Song of tfje Utolet. 
 
 Grass-hammocked here the violet swings 
 To the soft music of fresh Springs. 
 
 Sweet clemency and cure for fear 
 Float in her sunlit atmosphere ; 
 
 And the sad searcher after fame 
 Finds here condolence without blame. 
 
 Her modest mien betokens birth 
 Amid the lowly of the earth; 
 
 But outward beauty is not all : 
 
 True queens are queens though kingdoms fall. 
 
 And the sweet violet's heavenly eyes 
 Betray a heritage of the skies. 
 
WHATEVER THE WORLD MAY BRING. 
 
 Whatever the world may bring 
 In the clays that are yet to be, 
 
 Of joy or of suffering, 
 
 To you, O love, or to me, 
 
 Our hearts shall still be one, 
 
 In failure or in success ; 
 True as the tireless sun, 
 
 And perfect in faithfulness. 
 
 My words are weak to say 
 
 What joy your presence brings; 
 
 It is more than the joy of May, 
 
 It is more than the breath of Springs. 
 
 And your voice, when it answers mine 
 With its deep intenser tone, 
 
 Thrills me as rich red wine 
 In sunny vineyards grown. 
 
202 Whatever the World May Bring 
 
 Nothing — not even Fame, 
 
 With her tongue and her torch of fire,- 
 Can kindle so rich a flame, 
 Can rouse so strong desire 
 
 For pressing to higher deeds, 
 
 For following high intent, 
 As the thought that your soul reads 
 
 My failures with discontent. 
 
 Deep, deep in your heart I dwell, 
 
 To-day and f orevermore, 
 With a joy I cannot tell, 
 
 And have never known before 
 
 Each unto each our hands 
 
 Reaching to help and to save, 
 
 Till Time with his sliding sands 
 Heap us a common grave. 
 
A JUNE DAY S SAILING. 
 
 Around the happy isle we sailed, 
 
 Apast the sunny shingle ; 
 And came, ere morning dews exhaled, 
 
 Where lake and bay immingle. 
 
 We sang across the level bay, 
 We hailed the passing pilots, 
 
 And saw white sails that far away 
 Looked like enchanted islets. . 
 
 Within the island through a stream 
 
 We rowed, where sea-weeds tangling 
 
 Wove up our oars in garments green, — 
 Where water-birds were angling. 
 
 So on we passed where mimic lakes 
 Reposed in emerald etching, 
 
 And on and onward joyous breaks 
 Of sun and shade go stretching. 
 
204 *A June Day's Sailing 
 
 From pond to pond we floated there ; 
 
 We floated — neither speaking ; 
 No voices save the summer air 
 
 In languid whispers creeping. 
 
 White water-lilies raised around 
 Each one its golden chalice ; 
 
 And plucking as they came, I crowned 
 My own, my darling Alice. 
 
 At noon we stepped unto the strand, 
 And 'neath the shadows lying 
 
 We heard the voices of the land, 
 The trees to birds replying. 
 
 We heard the voices of the sea, 
 Its deep and ceaseless singing, 
 
 And felt the mighty mystery 
 
 That from its voice is ringing. 
 
 We dreamed of races long ago 
 Beside these waters dwelling, 
 
 And longed the long-lost things to know 
 Which history scorns the telling. 
 
*A June Day's Sailing 205 
 
 O fair Presque Isle, this joyous June, 
 Speak, speak thy mystic story ; 
 
 And tell us, in thy afternoon, 
 Who saw thy morn of glory ! 
 
 Then on the softer western breeze 
 
 There came an accent tender 
 And sweet as 'neath the apple-trees 
 
 Speak lovers in September : 
 
 6 Deem not this shore untrod of yore ; 
 Its lords — do not contemn them — 
 There lived great men, long, long before 
 To-day's great Agamemnon. 
 
 6 The West has had its Golden Fleece, 
 
 Its Homer long since perished ; 
 And games of athletes, such as Greece 
 In mighty ages cherished. 
 
 1 For many a happy Toltec town 
 
 Along these shores was builded, 
 And suns that ages since went down 
 Yon temple-summit gilded. 
 
206 zA June Day's Sailing 
 
 ' Till, flying from the northern foe, 
 
 The Toltecs left no token 
 That o'er the centuries' ebb and flow 
 In accents plain has spoken. 
 
 6 No token save these mounds that hold - 
 
 Who knows ? — mayhap a hero, 
 A poet of an age of gold, 
 Or some forgotten Nero. 
 
 ' And not a hundred years have fled 
 
 Since many an Indian lover 
 
 Here made his rustic marriage-bed, 
 
 Or shot the peaceful plover. 
 
 ' Go sailing through yon stilly bight 
 
 When western clouds are glowing, 
 Or from the mainland's misty height 
 Sweet orchard-breaths are blowing; 
 
 < And deep beneath the waters there 
 
 One o'er the bulwarks leaning 
 
 May see, 'mid tangled seaweeds rare, 
 
 A white keel faintly gleaming ; 
 
cA June Day's Sailing 207 
 
 4 A keel to patriot memory dear 
 
 Forever and forever ; 
 The Lawrence, sans reproche, sans peur, 
 Lies there at sandy tether,* 
 
 'Unsparred, unmanned, — yet not, meseems, 
 
 Unworth a simple singing, 
 While deeds like hers are poets' themes, 
 Or glory worth the winning. 
 
 1 And as one lingfers there alone 
 
 To rest, from rowing weary, 
 The sadful southern winds intone 
 A fitting miserere/ 
 
 Then, as we listened, nothing more 
 Was heard, save tree-tops sighing, 
 
 The waves that kissed the answering shore, 
 And sea-gulls sharply crying. 
 
 * This is a slight romance ; for the Lawrence no longer lies 
 in the embrace of Presque Isle Bay. The vandal-like instinct 
 of money-getting impelled certain persons to raise the famous 
 hull, cut it into canes, and endeavor to sell them at the Phila- 
 delphia Centennial Exposition. It is gratifying to know that 
 the enterprise failed to enrich any of its abettors. The Ni- 
 agara, however, still rests beneath the waters of the bay of 
 Presque Isle, and all that was once true of the Lawrence is 
 true to-day of the Niagara. 
 
208 zA June Day's Sailing 
 
 The impetuous moon from out the east 
 Was red with evening's blushing, 
 
 And as the western breezes ceased 
 Came south-winds lightly rushing. 
 
 They kissed the weary waves asleep 
 With soft and gentle touches, 
 
 And sang a requiescat sweet 
 To lull the nodding rushes. 
 
 Away we sailed : the moon looked down : 
 The lofty stars were shining ; 
 
 They shone from Ariadne's crown, 
 And from the Twins declining. 
 
 We sailed until the city bell 
 
 To bell gave midnight hailing, 
 
 And then we sadly said, * Farewell, 
 happy June day's sailing ! ' 
 
THE BATTLE OF LAKE ERIE. 
 
 When the battle-cry rang out 
 
 Across the inland wave, 
 And the voice of the Briton stout 
 
 To us defiance gave, — 
 When swift from the English side 
 
 A battle-squadron sailed 
 With sailors true and tried 
 
 And a fame that had never failed,- 
 
 Then in the forest deep 
 
 The sound of axe was heard, 
 And the new-cut timbers leap 
 
 To form at the freeman's word. 
 Out of this broad Presque Isle 
 
 Sailed forth the squadron new, 
 And eager each hurrying keel 
 
 To the winds of freedom flew ; 
 
 14 
 
210 The Battle of Lake Erie 
 
 And guided by stalwart souls, 
 By sons of freedom manned, 
 The fleet of freedom rolls 
 Hope-laden from the land. 
 
 And then the battle came, 
 
 And the battle anthem roared, 
 And the mighty wings of flame 
 
 Around the vessels soared, 
 And the timbers creaked and moaned, 
 
 And the wounded sailors lay 
 On the Lawrence's deck and groaned 
 
 That the British won the fray. 
 
 What hath the Lawrence done ? 
 
 Is her hero-name in vain ? 
 When sets yon western sun 
 
 Shall the British rule the main? 
 Shall the flag of freedom fall, 
 
 Shall Glory veil her head, 
 And the new republic pall 
 
 Herself amid her dead? 
 
The Battle of Lake Erie 21 1 
 
 Then loiul the hero cried, 
 
 < Lower yon boat for me ! 
 I'll dare this treacherous tide, 
 
 To set my country free ! 
 And the Lawrence's flag shall float 
 
 From yonder ship anew. . . 
 Out with the well-oared boat ! 
 
 Out with the fearless crew ! ' 
 
 Swift from his ruined keel 
 
 Flew Perry, flag in hand, — 
 Reel ! Britannia, reel ! 
 
 Shout out, O Freedom's land ! — 
 Swift o'er the billowed heads, 
 
 On ocean a glancing speck, 
 Till his foot in triumph treads 
 
 The Niagara's oaken deck. 
 
 Shout, O ye sailors brave, 
 
 And ye, O sons of the free ! — 
 
 Who in the days of old 
 
 Hath fame as his shall be ? 
 
212 The Battle of Lake Erie 
 
 On ! with a full-orbed sail 
 
 Against the British spar ; 
 On ! with the leaden hail ; 
 
 On ! with the joy of war ; 
 On ! till the banner red 
 
 Of Britain fluttered down, 
 And the Stars and Stripes were spread 
 
 Above the British Crown. 
 
 Then back on the Lawrence brave 
 
 The stately victor towers : 
 i We have met them on the wave, 
 And the enemy is ours.' 
 
SONG. 
 
 I love thee well, I love thee well ; 
 
 Though time and space our faces sever, 
 I love thee more than words can tell, 
 
 Though words were lengthened out forever. 
 
 Each hour without thee hath its pain ; 
 
 Each day, each week, is doubly lengthened ; 
 And till we two shall meet again, 
 
 The woe of time is doubly strengthened. 
 
 On fancy's wing I float away 
 
 Across the land and o'er the ocean, 
 
 To tell thee in my old-time way 
 
 The story of my heart's devotion. 
 
 But when I seem thy lips to press 
 
 In ecstasy, the dream departing 
 Makes grief grow rather more than less, 
 
 And bitter tears come swiftly starting. 
 
214 Song 
 
 Let distance shrink, O love, and bring 
 Thyself to me, thy longing lover ; 
 
 Or tell me how on love's strong wing 
 Thy place of exile to discover ! 
 
GREEK CHORUS. 
 
 Hail to the Gods, the Gods 
 
 Who have woven up the sky ! 
 Hail to the Gods, the Gods 
 
 Whom who may dare defy ? 
 Deep are their council halls, 
 
 Deep are their aims and ends, 
 Full of the fear that appalls, 
 
 Full of the grace that bends. 
 
 Darkly they sweep the air, 
 
 Darkly they clothe the sea, 
 Dark are the chambers where 
 
 They make each dark decree. 
 Man have they made for their sport, — 
 
 Aye, they have made him for scorn ; 
 As a ship remote from port 
 
 On the pinnacled breakers borne, 
 
2i 6 Greek Chorus 
 
 On and onward he flies, 
 
 Beaten by wind and rain, 
 
 Until at the last he lies 
 
 A wreck on the lightless main. 
 
 What is hope but a ghost ? 
 
 And what is faith but a knell ? 
 Death is to life a host, 
 
 And f easteth his guest-friend well. 
 Time is a monster of fears, 
 
 Who bristles with promises vain, — 
 Who promiseth endless years, 
 
 But reaps the unripe grain. 
 Time is the master of men ; 
 
 He bringeth the low on high, 
 Humbleth the proud again, 
 
 And gloateth o'er tear and sigh. 
 Mystery clings to the air, 
 
 Ignorance dwelleth the shore ; 
 Who can the ocean bare 
 
 To the eye that saw before ? 
 
Greek Chorus 21 7 
 
 Deeper than ocean deep, 
 
 Higher than air is high, 
 Are the secret powers that sleep 
 
 In the chambers of the sky. 
 
 Whence is the pulsing of life ? 
 
 Why does the sun go down ? 
 What is the lightning's strife, 
 
 And the heart of the clouds that frown ? 
 Many of men have said, 
 
 ' These are the answers to these '; 
 But onward the Great Ones tread, 
 
 And bloweth the secret breeze. 
 Men are weaker than thyme 
 
 That hedges the straggling way, 
 But the Great Ones rule sublime 
 
 To-day and yesterday. 
 
 See! See! See! 
 
 The air is glowing with eyes ! 
 Hark! Hark! Hark! 
 
 The aether is thrilled with cries ! 
 
2i 8 Greek Chorus 
 
 Men are blinder than stone, — 
 
 Deafer than dust are they, 
 Deaf to the lofty tone 
 
 That the spheres in concert play ; 
 Blind to the heavenly throngs 
 
 That cleave the air with wings, 
 Deaf to the heavenly songs 
 
 That sound from heavenly strings. 
 The earth is an altar wide, 
 
 And a temple rears the sky, 
 And the Gods men have defied 
 
 Are the Ones whereto they die. 
 
 What is the weakness of fear, 
 
 That harries the souls of men ? 
 Yea, 't is the voice they hear 
 
 Of whom they have dared contemn. 
 Fear is the finger whereby 
 
 The Great Ones bring men low ; 
 And knowing not where to fly, 
 
 To the Gods at last they go. 
 
Greek Chorus 219 
 
 Better is fear than a soul 
 
 That drives the Great Ones back ; 
 Such like a useless scroll 
 
 They will thrust to the ages' rack ; 
 Such an opposer they slay, — 
 
 But the fearful at last have rest, 
 And drink of the Heavenly day 
 
 To the Heavenly bosom pressed. 
 
 THE EOT). 
 
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