Up Oass 'PfillQ -5 iWi E»W«2l aill £r/o^£&rA * N@C^H ^M^^i^^^i^ MET' ^^y^^^vX^sLs^M/k^? M GONDALINE'S LESSON AND OTHER POEMS 1 9 lol'U ■ GONDALINE'S LESSON THE WARDEN'S TALE STORIES FOR CHILDREN AND OTHER POEMS RV MRS BLOOMFIELD MOORE Disdain us not, O kindly heart of man ! Us unregarded poets of the earth, The feeble songsters singing as we can Our eager melodies of little worth ' POST OFFICE DEFT, I jUBRARY. LONDON C. KEGAN PAUL & CO., I PATERNOSTER SQUARE 1881 y By Transfer P.O. Dept. Mar 23 08 (The rights of translation and of reproduction are reserved) geMcattb TO THE MEMORY OF ONE WHO. HAS 'GONE BEFORE 1 Ever near us, tJiough unseen, The dear immortal spirits tread ; For all the botmdless thtiverse Is life — there are no dead' POST OFFICE DEP'T. LI Y. CONTENTS. y MISCELLANEO US. PAGE Gondaline's Lesson . 3 Love's Four Seasons - 8 The Warden's Tale 11 The Web of Life 18 The Maiden's Flower Omens . . . . .. . 19 Blossoms and Thorns 23 The Magdalene . .25 Chaff and Wheat 29 Love and Fame 30 The Soul's Citadel 36 The Story of My Love 38 The Cup of Life 40 Real and Ideal 42 Words 44 Drifted Away 45 Resignation 47 The Armour of Love . . . . . . .49 Peace that Passeth Understanding . . . .51 The Stranger 52 A Picture 54 ' Would I were at Rest ' . ... . -56 Leaving Stockholm, March 1874 . . . -58 Midway . . 60 a CONTENTS. PAGE To One who Dislikes Flowers 62 Deserted 64 A Valentine . .66 In Egypt . ' . . . . . . . .68 To a Student . . . ; ... . .70 My Heart . ...... ... .72 Anticipation ......... 74 Betrayed .76 A Gift of Flowers 79 The Faithless Lover ........ 81 The Enthusiast . 83 Song of the Forsaken .85 The Approach 87 Answer to the Hymn 88 Letters 9 1 It Might Have Been . . . . . 9 2 Grief, Conscience, and Faith 93 The Country . . -95 Home 98 Grand-Children . 100 Maud . . . . 102 The Message 104 Compensation ......... 106 Sympathy 108 How Long? ... ..... .109 A Memory of the Nile no Genesee Falls . . . . ■■. . . .114 Niagara Below the Cataract 115 CONTENTS. PAGE The Broken Tryst 116 The Dying Wife 118 Invocation 121 y iN MEMORIAM. The Midnight Vigil . . . . . . .125 After the Vigil 127 Death . 129 Isabel 131 Memories 133 A Dirge 135 An Anniversary 137 A Tribute .......... 139 An Autumn Sunset 141 A Psalm of Thanksgiving 143 'Baby Ernald ' . 144 ' Not Lost, but Gone Before ' . 145 'stories for children. 'Katie Did:' A Gossip's Tale 153 Cowards 159 Doggerel 161 The Birds' Nest 163 The Little Truant 166 'VOICES OF THE PAST. My Country 171 ♦Forward, March' 173 In Rome, May 1863 175 CONTENTS. PAGE At Home, May 1864 . . 177 Widowed 178 Our Hero 181 ' THE SEASONS. An April Day 185 A Day in Midsummer 187 Autumn Scenes 190 Winter 192 " SONNETS. I. Morning 197 II. Noon .' 198 III. Night . . . . . . ' . . . 199 ERAS IN LIFE. Forebodings .-...-. 203 Thorns and Arrows . 204 My Gethsemane 207 'O God, Be Pitiful' .209 'Be Brave' . 211 Submission ......... 212 Evil and Good 214 Wrecked 216 Dead Hopes 218 Waiting 220 Memorial 222 The Ministering Spirit . . . . .224 J POST OFFIC E D eFTI Ow» 9. luy MISCELLANEOUS. POEMS GONDALINE'S LESSON. Faust. — Nun gut, wer bist du denn? Meph. — Ein Theil von jener Kraft die stets das Bose will, und stets das Gute schafft. — Goethe. [Faust. — Well, good ! who art thou then ? Meph. — A part of that power that always wants evil, but always creates good.] The Prince of Evil from his lurid home Sent to our world, on mission fraught with ill, An angel wondrous fair to look upon, A Lucifer in point of cunning skill. Landing on earth, the angel walked with men ; They knew him not as other than their kin : And one, ruling as lord in wide domain, Threw open doors and took the angel in. With form like Juno's and a heart of gold, Fairer than Helen, was his beauteous queen : Gracious as goddess stooping down to man The stranger guest was met by Gondaline. B 2 GONDALINES LESSON. The angel held aloof, nor sought to win One smile other than those she freely gave ; Serene his front as theirs who never sin, Serene his eyes as theirs who live to save. The days passed on, and like a sister kind Grew day by day the fair and gracious queen ; The weeks passed by, and like a sister fond More gracious grew the lovely Gondaline. When one full month had folded happy days, As the ripe wheat folds close within its core The hoarded sweetness of the sun's warm rays When drooping sheaves are bound for garnered store, The angel guest feigned that he must depart — Deep sadness in his eyes and in his mien, Trembled his voice whene'er he spoke unto The trustful, gentle, gracious Gondaline. 'Why wilt thou leave us ?' the fair woman asked, And none were near to hear the answer given. * I go,' he said, ' because I dare not stay : I am as one shut out from hopes of heaven.' GONDALINES LESSON. 1 And why is this ? ' Her eyes were raised to his. 1 Some secret meaning in your words are hid.' 1 You say aright : I dare not plainer speak Unless by your sweet lips mine own are bid.' fc Tell me thy grief,' she said, * and I will pray Unto our Lord to lift the heavy load.' He shuddered as she spoke, and turned away As one who finds a barrier on his road. 1 Fear not. I will thy secret guard As if it were a secret of my own. I would that I could help thee on thy way — Burdens are lightened when not borne alone.' 1 Ah, thou couldst help me if thou wouldst,' he said ; 1 But in dark ways thy feet have never trod, And thou wouldst fear to go where I must walk ! ' * Nothing I fear save conscience and my God !' Again he quailed and cowered at the word ; Then raised his eyes y and met her questioning gaze : Hers were as virginal as maiden's are ; His with dark passions were ablaze. GONDALINES LESSON. ' I am no coward/ said she unto him, * And in those ways, howe'er so dark they be, I should not fear, nor from them turn aside, If in them I could be of use to thee.' Nearer she drew, and took his hand in hers, Nor did she fear when close he held her own ; Nearer he drew, and bent his face to hers, Saying some words in low and eager tone. She felt his gaze as snow feels morning sun, While her lips moved in earnest, pleading prayer : i Dear Lord, give me this precious soul to save ! Help him, whate'er it is, his cross to bear !' Once more he shrank, as if a thing of naught ; Once more their eyes were turned in steadfast gaze: It was as if some power passed from her, Drawing him from the evil of his ways. i I would not harm thee if I could/ he said : 1 1 go to tell my master I have seen A spirit pure as heaven's angels are, In thy chaste eyes, thou wondrous Gondaline. GONDALINES LESSON. 1 1 go to tell him that I cannot fill The harmful mission which his mandate sent : I would not wrong thee, if I could,' he said, While on him still her questioning eyes were bent. 'How couldst thou wrong me?' she the answer made. 1 I seek to do thee good ; thou couldst not do me ill! All things together work for weal, we know, To those who work for good and seek God's will. * Thy master hath no power, save God permits ; And He guards those who strive to do His will : Go, tell thy master this, whose evil good may bring To thee, and me, God's purpose to fulfil. I I know thee now — a minister of Sin ! But thou a lesson unto me hast taught : The soul of good may e'en in evil dwell, The soul of evil e'en in good be brought ! ' LOVES FOUR SEASONS. ' Where love is, heaven is. ' Barbara's History. I What time sad Winter's snows cold-sowed the earth, And leaden skies hid heaven from our sight, While wrangling winds wailed o'er their tortured birth Through short cold days and long cold hours of night, Love planted in my heart his seeds of fire, Thrilling each vein with vibrant, strange delight, Changing my pulses to electric wire, Though still his face was hidden from my sight. II What time the goddess of the Spring came down To bring her yearly offering of flowers, And Earth threw off her icy veil and gown, Her bosom quickening in the sun-god's showers, LOVES FOUR SEASONS. When virginal fields of pale forget-me-not Couched side by side with amorous clover lay, Then walked I in those fields with Love, I wot, Still blindly trusting him to lead the way. Ill What time hot Summer's throbbing skies of blue Shone o'er these meadows where our steps had strayed, And her warm breath, steeped in rich fragrance through, Filled with sweet languors all the hours we made, I saw Love's face, and all my blood to flame He kindled with his asking eyes on mine ; And I, divining what he wished to claim, Said in my heart, 'Already I am thine.' IV What time the purple grapes hung on the vine, And pregnant Earth was teeming with her fruit, And men and maidens harvested the wine, Dancing at close to zittern and to lute : LOVES FOUR SEASONS. Within Love's arms, close circling me around, Languid with kisses which his warm lips rained 3 I said, 'At last life's secret I have found, At last my earthly paradise is gained.' II THE WARDEN'S TALE. A Parable for the Age. Oh, the little more, and how much it is, And the little less, and what worlds away. R. Browning. I AM warden of a garden — Of a garden quaint and fair — Seldom does the king, my master, Ever wish to wander there. II Little cares he for the blossoms Or the fruits beside the wall ; In the centre blooms a rose tree, And the roses he claims all. Ill But one day there came a pilgrim, Lofty air yet winning mien, And he asked a tiny flower Pale as is the moonlight's sheen. 12 THE WARDEN'S TALE. IV So I plucked and gave it to him, And he wore it on his breast As we walked along the garden, Pausing here and there to rest. v Day by day returned this pilgrim ; As we paced the shaded aisles Friendlier grew his words of greeting, Tenderer his friendly smiles. VI And we often gathered flowers — Spotless lilies, pansies cold As the purple in the heavens When it borders twilight's gold. VII But one day our footsteps straying To the garden's centre came, Where the roses on the branches Bloomed with tropic hearts of flame. THE WARDEN'S TALE. 13 VIII Then with lips so sweet and tender, And with eyes more tender still, c Give me but one rose/ he whispered, * And then ask whate'er you will.' IX How could I the rose refuse him, If his eyes my heart could melt ? So I stretched my hand to reach it, When a piercing thorn I felt x ' Ah ! 'tis not my rose to give you ! ! With an aching heart I spake, In the pain of that refusing Which I longed to have him take. XI 1 Tis but one rose that I asked for/ Straight he said, in grieved surprise ; 1 When your master counts so many, Bloom they only for his eyes ? ' 14 THE WARDEN'S TALE. XII ' Take the violets, take the pansies, Take the lilies, if you will, But unworthy I for warden If no trust I shall fulfil. XIII 1 And this rose bush, he has told me, Must be left for him alone ; So I cannot give his roses, Though they are so thickly blown.' XIV 1 Give me one ; he will not miss it Though he count them o'er and o'er- . Only one ; 'tis all I ask for, And I ne'er will ask for more. xv 1 Give it, warden ; lips refusing Wear not grace as when they yield ; And I know the king, thy master, Gathers in another field.' THE WARDEN'S TALE. XVI Then I wavered. In that moment He knew not the half my pain As I answered, ' Reach and take it, For you shall not plead in vain.' XVII So, with eager hand approaching, He stooped low to pick the rose, When a serpent, coiled beneath it, Did his fiery eyes disclose. XVIII Then I, shivering, started forward, All my heart with anguish torn : 1 Leave the roses for the lilies ; They have neither sting nor thorn.' XIX But he drew me close beside him, And he whispered in my ear Words that I, another's warden, Might not, ought not, dared not, hear. 16 THE WARDEN'S TALE. XX How I wrung my hands in sorrow, How my heart ached with despair, How I prayed to God to help me, How He heard my frantic prayer, XXI Is a tale that ne'er was spoken ; But the pilgrim since that day Has not sought my master's roses, Has not even passed this way. XXII Now to other wardens say I — For I've won the right to speak By the anguish of my spirit And the pallor of my cheek — XXIII King or prince, or who he may be That to thee doth trust confide, Leave no pilgrim in the precincts, At his will to wander wide. THE WARDEN'S TALE. 17 XXIV Pick no pansies, no, nor lilies, To adorn another's breast Than the one who is thy master, If thy conscience would have rest ; xxv For no pilgrim but will wander Where the owner's roses bloom, When the lilies and the pansies Lose for him their faint perfume. i8 THE WEB OF LIFE. My life, which was so straight and plain. Has now become a tangled skein, Yet God still holds the thread ; Weave as I may, His hand doth guide The shuttle's course, however wide The chain in woof be wed. One weary night, when years went by, I plied my loom with tear and sigh, In grief unnamed, untold ; But when at last the morning's light Broke on my vision, pure and bright There gleamed a cloth of gold. And now I never lose my trust, Weave as I may — and weave I must — That God doth hold the thread ; He guides my shuttle on its way, He makes complete my task each day ; What more, then, can be said ? 19 THE MAIDENS FLOWER OMENS. 4 If he bring me a rose, a briar rose, To place in my braided hair, I shall know there are thorns in life for me And many a wearying care. 1 If he bring me a lily pure and pale And lay it upon my breast, I shall know that my life will be of peace, As a bird in its mother's nest 1 If he bring me pansies purple and gold And clasp them within my hand, I shall know that rare treasures I will glean From many a distant land. 1 If he bring me orange blossoms sweet, With their clinging buds beside, I shall know that before the year is out I will surely be his bride. C 2 20 THE MAIDEN'S FLOWER OMENS. ' If he bring me blue forget-me-nots, As blue as the summer sky, I shall know I will never falsehood see In the blue of his bonnie eye. 1 If he bring me poppies red as the coals That glow in the blacksmith's fire, I shall know like the coals his love will die In the ashes of his desire. ' If he bring me soft carnation pinks In a wreath as children wear, I shall know it is but fancy for me, That with others I must share. 1 If he bring me snowdrops waxen white That droop with their own weight low, I will know, alas ! when the winter comes I shall sleep beneath the snow.' II Nor snowdrops white, nor pinks, nor blossoms pale, Were given to the maiden fair ; Nor poppies red, nor blue forget-me-nots, Nor pansies yet, nor lilies rare ; THE MAIDEN'S FLOWER OMENS. 21 But laden down with roses came he then — Moss-roses, maiden-blush and white, Burgundy roses crimson as the wine When crystal goblets flash the light ; Roses, like sea shells, with pink pearly tints, Roses with petals of rare yellow gold, Roses as scarlet as a woman's lips When rain warm kisses all untold. He flung them o'er her, laughing as they fell. No laughter rippled back to him : * I hold an omen in these flowers,' she said, ' An omen for the future dim. 1 Would you had brought me lilies in their stead, Or pansies with their hearts of gold, Or dear forget-me-nots, that breathe of faith, Seeming some sacred trust to hold ! 1 But roses ! roses with their cruel thorns ! Oft-times as false as fair are they, Since canker-worms coil close within their hearts, Eating their fragrant life away.' *c 3 22 THE MAIDEN'S FLOWER OMENS. Ill ' Sad is the life where roses do not bloom ; And one forgives the thorns/ he said, ' When one has drunken of the rich perfume That regal roses always shed. * I bring thee roses as unto a queen. If thou, sweet love, my queen wilt be, Only the roses shalt thou have in life, And all the thorns shall be for me.' She heard, and straight upon his breast she hid Her happy face, with blushes warm. Her trusting heart believed the words he said ; He felt her answer in her clinging form. No fairer bride e'er orange blossoms wore Than this sweet maid at chancel rail ; No husband fond so kept the vows he made — Yet thorns with roses, reader, never fail. 23 BLOSSOMS AND THORNS. Up to the courts of heaven fair A spirit sped one day ; Released from earth, the spirit cried, ' Open the gate, I pray ! ' An angel swung the golden door ; ' Where is thy cross ? ' he said. ' Here is my crown ; I have no cross To offer in its stead.' 1 No cross, no crown,' the answer made, And slowly turned the door ; The pilgrim spirit bowed her head As one in sorrow sore. 1 Dear Lord ! ' she cried, in her despair, 1 Shut not the gate on me ; Thorns are within the crown I wear Like those that pierced Thee.' 24 BLOSSOMS AND THORNS. Then quickly swung the gate again ; Our Lord Himself was there, Whose ears are never, never closed Unto a sufferer's prayer. 1 Woman, give Me your crown/ He said ; * If martyr's thorns you wear, You can pass in the golden gate With those who crosses bear.' Then from her drooping head she took Its crown of blossoms bright ; And, lo ! the piercing points within Revealed themselves to sight. 4 Why hast thou worn this crown ? ' He asked ; 1 Better a cross to bear.' * I wore it, Lord, for love of him Who made and placed it there.' i For love like this,' our Saviour said, ' Though to the creature given, Thou hast done well to call on Me, For thou hast won thy heaven.' ~5 THE MAGDALENE. Suggested by a Painting of a Magdalene. Luke vii. 47. BENEATH a sacred shrine she kneeled, Her bosom's charms scarce half concealed, 'Tween flowing robe and hair revealed — Hair of the hue of burnished gold, Rippling along the dark blue fold That wrapped a form of peerless mould. 1 Oh, Christ ! ' she cried, ' here at Thy feet I leave my tears, for tears are meet For one who findeth sin so sweet ! 1 And yet, dear Lord, I love not sin, And Thou, who readest hearts within, See'st my soul doth oftenest win ! 1 But when his lips my own lips press In royal bliss of tenderness, Such as the angels cannot guess, 26 THE MAGDALENE. ' Then sin no longer sin doth seem, And wrapped as in a holy dream I give my very self to him : 4 1 give, and weep I have no more To give to him whom I adore, And count my life of little store. ( If life for him I could but yield, Nor priest to shrive, but unannealed, I'd walk alone the shadowy field. * To give him heaven I would dwell Where, in rank groves of asphodel, Tread spirits that from heaven fell. ( Forgive me, Lord, in that I love, Nor close Thy courts to me above If sinless in all else I prove ! ' Low fell her head upon her breast When thus her sin she had confest, Nor seen one pausing there to rest — A pilgrim father in his gown, Dusty and travel-stained and worn ; And as he heard the tears ran down, THE MAGDALENE. 27 1 Daughter,' he said, ' thou art the snare That Satan sets for a soul rare Which nought could tempt that is less fair. ' If thou wouldst save it for Christ's fold, Cut close thy hair of yellow gold And change thy raiment new for old. ' Still more : thy love thou must conceal, Indifference must feign to feel. The task is hard, but for his weal 1 Thy love thou canst forego, and bear Pangs which at first he too will share, But in the end the crown will wear 1 Which saints and martyrs only gain WTien torture fires and racks of pain Have cleansed their souls from every stain. * This crown can come through thee alone. Bear thou thy cross and make no moan ; So shalt thou all thy sins atone.' She cut her hair of gleaming gold, She clothed herself in sackcloth old, She said, ' My pulses have grown cold ; 28 THE MAGDALENE. 1 1 love but God alone.' He heard, Her lover fond, whose blood was stirred Like quivering flame at every word. 1 What lying priest hath wrought me this, To rob me of the heavenly bliss For which I gladly heaven would miss ? * Not for thy locks of virgin gold, Not for thy garment's purple fold, Do I thy supple beauty hold ' Above all joys of earth or heaven ; And though my sins were seven times seven Thy love would prove the saving leaven ! ' Her eyes told what no words confest, 1 If love will save thee thou art blest ; ' Firm as a saint she said the rest : 1 Go ! follow duty day by day ! Since thou art saved if I obey I will not lead thy soul astray. ' Then at our death we shall be shriven ; Through Hades we shall pass to heaven ; Since unto such as love too much Much also is forgiven.' 2 9 CHAFF AND WHEAT. 'The blows that strike deepest into the heart are struck by human hands which we have loved and trusted.' My heart lay on the threshing-floor : I stifled every wail As blow on blow descended From one who held the flail. My heart lay on the threshing-floor, But it was not in vain ; The chaff was scattered to the winds In hours of keenest pain. My heart lay on the threshing-floor ; Yet, bruised though it be, It still a worthy offering is To thee, beloved, to thee ! Then take it now and guard it well, Dear love, for love of me : My heart lay on the threshing-floor That it might worthier be. 3o . LOVE AND FAME. * To be great is to be exposed to all the shafts of envy ; but to love is to wear an " armour against fate." ' I DREAMED. Before me stood a vision bright, A creature of celestial light, Of glorious mien and mould. Her velvet robe, with hem of gold, Fell to her feet in graceful fold, Gleaming with jewels rare and cold. Her dark hair shaded lovely eyes, Which flashed like stars in midnight skies, While, stately as a crowned queen, She wore her wreath of laurel green. In reverence I bowed my head, And saw, low kneeling by my bed, A gentler, fairer, sylph-like form, Whose eyes with love were beaming warm. She spoke — her voice was sweetly low ; In silver tones it seemed to flow : LOVE AND FAME. 31 1 Turn not away from heart like mine : With pulses warm and true ; Turn not away that glance of thine Though bright yon form to view. Her path is through a weary way ; Sharp thorns will pierce thy feet, And falsely flatt'ring is the lay Thy list'ning ear will greet. The canker eateth at her heart, It gnaweth to the core ; Oh, bid her from thy side depart And never tempt thee more. There's poison in the laurel leaf That's braided in her hair ; Her very smile will bring thee grief, Although it seems so fair. Thy brightest hopes will all decay, Thy joys to ashes turn, While in thy breast with fitful sway Their smouldering embers burn.' The low voice ceased. I raised my eyes From hers, as blue as azure skies, And turned them from her glance so warm Upon the stately, radiant form. 32 LOVE AND FAME. The dark eyes smiled — entrancing gaze ! How fast my heart beat 'neath their rays ! The red lips moved — melodious flow ! Deep-toned as bugle notes drawn low, They thrilled my heart with bounding throe. * My name is Fame/ the goddess said ; 1 My mission unto thee. A glory round thy path I'll shed If thou wilt go with me. The way is steep, a stony path ; But, when we gain the end, 111 crown with glittering coronal The brow that thou wilt bend. The world will turn an envious gaze Upon thy lofty height, And thou shalt proudly meet those rays And glory in thy might Then come with me ; leave yonder fay To minds of meaner mould ; Come, on our path away, away, Success awaits the bold.' That clarion voice awoke a lyre ; It filled my veins with molten fire LOVE AND FAME. 33 As one by one its chords were swept. I turned to Love ; she, kneeling, wept ; Her lashes long drooped low with tears, And 'neath their lids were boding fears. ' Look ere we part,' she sighing said ; And then her hand my vision led ; I saw through fields of pulsing air A pathway radiantly fair : Green were the grots and mossy glades, Cool flowed the rills in greener shades, And wild flowers grew in tangled maze Beneath the thick vine's arching ways. The velvet turf was gemmed with dew, And starry flowers of every hue, And flute-like voices stirred the air From loving lips of beings fair. The path swept to a river's side, Where timidly upon the tide, With foot advanced, its power they tried ; The amber wavelets gently bore The spirit forms from verdant shore : And oh ! entrancing, rapturous sight ! The banks beyond of crystal bright, D 34 LOVE AND FAME. Wreathed with rich vines of emerald green, And flowers so rare no eye hath seen, And gates of sapphire and of gold, And streets of pearl, and fountains cold, While angel forms came forth to greet The angel spirits which they meet ' I'll go with thee, dear Love/ I cried ; And still for glorious Fame I sighed. Love marked the wildly-heaving sighs, She saw the tears gleam in my eyes, And, pointing with her faultless hand, Said, ' Look at yonder toiling band/ I looked ; and lo ! 'midst rocks and briers, 'Midst nameless graves and funeral pyres, Fame's toil-worn band were struggling on Beneath the fierce rays of the sun — No mossy glades, no vine-arched ways, To shelter them from burning rays ; Their sunken eyes gleamed wild and strange, And frequent looks of hate exchanged. Upward and onward still they pressed, While some, more weary than the rest, Found by the way an unknown grave, For not one stopped to soothe or save, LOVE AND FAME. 35 But, often trampling on the weak, The highest place they seemed to seek. They paused not for the dying wail, The cheek so wan, so ashen pale ; And, shuddering at the fearful sight, I turned away in dread affright. For Fame no more my spirit sighed ; Ambition's power that moment died. I follow Love, and Fame may flee — No longer she hath charms for me. Pale Envy's shafts at her are borne, While Love escapes with armour worn That clothes the form from crown to heel, Invulnerable as proven steel. d 2 & THE SOULS CITADEL. From an Unpublished Novel. I STOOD upon the heights of Love : The air was passion-free ; I thought not of the things of Time, But of Eternity. And he who led me to those heights, And bade me scale its walls, I looked upon as on a god, As free from earthly thralls. I scaled the walls, I reached the tower, I flung my flag on high; I thought I heard the angels call As breeze on breeze swept by. My head was strong, my heart was brave, My vision keen and clear ; I saw the ways the saints have trod, I felt their spirits near. THE SOUHS CITADEL. 37 What foe would dare in hours like these A soul so clad assail ? Ah, woe is me ! no foe but he Who helped me don my mail His hand struck low in cruel blow The one whose feet he'd led From level plains to mountain-tops, And left me as one dead. But still I hold my pure white flag, Though low in dust I lie; I hear the breezes out of heaven Still murmur, murmur by. And now 'tis given me to know, And see with spirit's eyes, That Christ alone can lead our souls Up into Paradise. 38 THE STORY OF MY LOVE, When the lilacs were in bloom, And the skies were soft and pale, I told my love the story As we walked in Thornleydale ; Oh, the aisles of lilac bloom In the green and lovely vale Where I walked with Maud at morn, And she listened to my tale. Twice six moons had waxed and waned, Twice six months had passed away, Ere I begged my Maud to name Very near our wedding day. So we walked in Thornleydale, While she, blushing, hung her head : The moss roses on the bush Blush not half so sweet a red. THE STOR Y OF MY LO VE. 39 When the locusts were in bloom, Lilies pure and snowdrops pale, With my bride upon my arm I went out from Thornleydale ; Tender eyes were raised to mine, Tender lips to mine were pressed, And I bore my bride away From her fair and flowery nest. When the winter skies were grey, And the snow lay in the vale, When the winds were bleak and wild, We came back to Thornleydale ; But the tender eyes were closed, And the tender lips were cold ; And my baby and my bride Sleep together side by side. 4o THE CUP OF LIFE. I HOLD with trembling hand the full, rich cup Which God has given unto me to drink — Such generous dole that not one added drop Could fall within and not o'erbrim its wealth. I would my hold were stronger, but, alas ! The strongest arm is weak indeed against The purposes of God. Ah ! blest be he Who still can give God thanks when all the wine Life yields is spilled, and nought is left but lees. Couldst thou, my heart ? What didst thou do but moan When on a time a north-east wind did breathe Upon thy calm, vexing thy life with plaints That would have best befit a tempest storm ? But now the wind has lulled, 'tis well and w T ise To search thy soul and question of its strength, That if again a few drops from thy cup Are swept unto the ground, thou shalt not grieve THE CUP OF LIFE. 41 As if the richness of thy draught were gone. Take time to thank thy God for what He leaves, Faint heart, and thou wilt find the hours grow few Wherein thou mournest over what He takes. 42 REAL AND IDEAL, No stoned castle's window owns a view Fairer than mine that overlooks the west ; Rolling between are countless waves of blue, Bearing white sails unto their ports of rest. Here slopes the orchard with its wealth of bloom, The cattle grazing to the water's edge ; There stroll fair children on the shell-strewn beach, Or watch the scene from yon bold, beetling ledge. Now curves the sinuous rock-bound coast away, Or reaches out in promontories fair, While far beyond the tireless billows play And toss their white arms in the golden air. Nearer, a meadow rolls its emerald sward, Flecked with white clover as with pearls of Ind, Its huge breast scarred with timbers of the nord — Wrecks driven on shore in gales of adverse wind. REAL AND IDEAL. 43 Where walls of rock relentless keep at bay The reckless waves that chafe against their sides, Fall glowing showers of soft prismatic spray : As ceaseless break the never-resting tides. I close my eyes : the meadow, coast, and wave, Like phantom pictures fade and disappear ; Sweet absent faces gather round my own, And clinging hands clasp mine which are not here. Newport. 44 WORDS. WHEN thought holds empire in the brain of man, And deeds unworthy we are brought to scan, How leaps the soul with indignation stung ! How words that burn find utterance on the tongue ! When Treachery strikes the heart with coward blow, And Falsehood strives her subtle dart to throw, The soul speaks up most nobly in its scorn, Unless its clay be but ignobly born. Not so when love falls wounded to the dust, Smitten by hands it only knew to trust ; Words then are worthless to the anguished mind ; Save ' Help us, God/ no other words we find ; And but His strength upheld us in our need We would be weak and powerless indeed. 45 DRIFTED A WA Y. In the morn of life I anchored a barque By some isles I was sure would stay ; Alas ! alas ! in the treacherous dark My green isles drifted away. And now I look back on their groves of palm, Their fountains of solace and joy, As martyrs look for the life beyond When flames and the rack destroy. Bore ever a martyr a keener pain Than our Lord when deserted knew ? Can the fire scorch as burns the thought, ' I trusted to love not true ' ? Come back, come back, my beautiful isles, That I anchored my barque beside ; No other isles like my isles of palms In the tropic seas so wide ! DRIFTED A WA Y. Ah, when once an isle has drifted away, Nor fountains nor palms remain. My anchor swings loose to lodge as it may ; My barque is at sea again. 47 RESIGNATION. She heard the anguished wail of those whose hearts Are broken on God's wheels, and when she said To him who led her steps, ' Why bring me here ? ' He answered, ' Have no fear ; I do but lead Where He directs who knows the path you need.' Her trembling heart in terror tried to turn ; But flaming swords, the ministers of fate, For ever held her back, nor ceased pursuit Until upon the rack, her heart, bound fast, Writhing in torture lay. Her ashen lips Refused to say, ' Thy will, my God, be done ! ' And only murmured, ' Thine, O God, the power ! ' Then groaned the wheel, revolving round, Till drop by drop the blood no longer flowed ; For first like gushing fountains it poured forth, Showering accusing spray in drops on those Who lent their strength to turn its ponderous weight. With life at lowest ebb God's angels came, And one, whose face was radiant with peace, 48 RESIGNATION. Lifted her up and said, ' Come now with us, Nor grudge the pain that wrung unwilling drops From thy heart's core, since unto thee is given To walk on earth with angels sent from heaven. 5 49 THE ARMOUR OF LOVE. 'I pity, I forgive, I forget.' — Louis XVIII. YOU ask me whence the armour came That steeled me through those days to live He sent it who has taught me since To pity and forgive. You ask me how I bore the cross Ere recompensing crown was set ; I like not to recall those hours : Would that I could forget ! You tell me now I know my friends ; I knew them all, dear love, before ; The phalanx never broke nor swayed That Friendship's banner bore You tell me that henceforth my life Is freed from Envy's vengeful eye. Believe it not ; till heaven is gained Her arrows still will fly. 5o THE ARMOUR OF LOVE. But yet one word for you I have : This armour that's around me wrought Not only keeps her shafts from me, But makes them all as nought. Draw as she may her monstrous bow, With poisoned arrows basely set, They cannot pierce the mail I wear, Since now I pity and forget. 5i PEACE THAT P ASSET H UNDER- STANDING. What land of promise this that now I tread What skies are these that, arching o'er my head, Seem full of angel faces looking down, As close I hold Love's sceptre and Love's crown ? I have not crossed the barrier stream of death ; Still does the mortal hold within its sheath Its spirit body as the ripened husk its wheat ; Still this sweet world I walk with clinging feet, Loth to depart, yet longing still to go ; Two natures warring each with each still flow Like tides that now advance and now recede, As earth attracts or heaven's voices lead. The answer comes as if from God's white throne : 1 Here dwell those hearts which my great peace have known.' E 2 52 THE STRANGER. 1 Abide with us ; for it is toward evening, and the day is far spent.' — Luke xxiv. 29. The morning splendours of my life have flown, The noontide glories now are on the wane ; I walk the path to Emmaus all alone, And think o'er 'things that happened' once again. Who is the stranger joins me on the way, Teaching me truths which make my heart to glow ? O Lord, reveal Thy face to me, I pray ; If Thou art with me, give me sight to know So the apostles walked with Him of old, And knew Him not until they sat at meat. Methinks my loving heart would soon have told, Had I been there when He drew near to greet THE STRANGER. 53 I will not let a doubt within my soul That it is other than the Lord I love. He leads me onward to yon distant goal ; I see the lights far streaming from above. Abide with me ! my day is wellnigh spent ; The night of death, dear Lord, will soon be here ; If on Thy breast whene'er the message's sent, What will I know of darkness or of fear ? The morning splendours of my life have flown Its noontide glories now are on the wane ; I walk the path to Emmaus not alone, For He is with me who of old was slain. 54 A PICTURE, Only a churchyard covered with snow, A church in a lonely dale ; There gleamed in the west a golden glow, The heavens above were pale. The sentinel trees, like shades of the dead, Stood up stark against the sky : Their frozen branches at rest were spread, For no winds went surging by. The ground was white as the pure cold face That sleeps in its coffin-bed ; A holy stillness was in the place That comes only to the dead. To a longing wild my soul gave birth In that solemn peace to share, To be done with the harsh turmoils of earth, Their pain and their wearying care. A PICTURE. 55 ' Would I were at rest ! ' As the words arose, They died on my lips unsaid : It seemed a sin before God to breathe I envied the buried dead. I thought of him who stood by my side, The trials he had to bear, Of the tender trust he had placed in me, Of the grief I had to share. I wished no more for the frozen sleep Of the churchyard white and lone, Where the ghostly trees their vigils keep, And winds in the midnight moan. The picture hangs now in memory's hall — The churchyard covered with snow ; And it holds my soul within its thrall In a spell that none can know. 56 ' WOULD I WERE AT REST: ' He chooseth best Who chooseth labour instead of rest.' H. B. Bostwick. No readiness to die so pleaseth God As readiness to live to do God's will : He measureth unto us appointed days; Our round of duties we have yet to fill. Shrink not the task ! We can the victory win. Our fetters strong? Our souls are stronger yet. God did but fashion this pulsating clay In which the jewel of the soul to set. That has dominion over flesh and sin. If the sore struggle be but once begun, He'll give His angels charge concerning us Until the final victory be won. WOULD I WERE AT REST. 57 Then let our lives a daily offering be ; The incense sweet unto our God shall rise ; The contrite spirit and the humble heart He loveth better than the sacrifice. 58 LEAVING STOCKHOLM, MARCH 1874. O WINGED winds ! bear on the hours Which now for days must roll, Dragging their weary length along Like nights within the pole — The Arctic pole, where never sun Illumes for months the sea, Though brightly shine the stars above, The stars of destiny. In them I'll trust, for God is just, And orders all aright; He holds the stars within their course From darkness unto light. The winter goes, the summer comes, Then steadfast shines the sun ; For all the wintry nights are o'er And wintry days are done. LEAVING STOCKHOLM, MARCH 1874. 59 Now unto my desponding soul Its dearest hope I'll hold — That steadfast love may centre round The darlings of my fold ; That they may know no wintry days, No nights of dark despair ; But o'er the tropic seas of love Float into havens fair. When winter goes, may summer come, And steadfast shine the sun, And all the wintry days be o'er, And wintry nights be done. 6o MID WA Y. Midway upon Life's sea my bark speeds on ; Steeped with the noontide's gold, the cradled crests I turn to look upon lie still as babes Upon their mother's breast. Ah ! once it was Not thus* I know a time when wild storms raged, And thick clouds swept athwart the sky, until The waves, high tossed, in murky blackness fumed. Some treasure from my hold I lost ere those Rough waves grew calm ; some garnered hopes, some faith, Some trust, went down, and for my loss my soul Sent up a cry which might have pierced the heavens, So sharp its agony. But now the sea Holds not one trace of all that wild turmoil. I stand and gaze upon its vast expanse, And strive to keep in view the far-off shore, Which to my sight grows dimmer every hour — The shore whereon I lingered ere my sails MIDWAY. 6 1 Were trimmed, for pastime gathering pebble stones, Which, Midas-touched, have turned since then to gold. What of the land beyond ? A dim grey haze Rolls dense between, which, when the storms come on, Lifts for a space, swift driven before the wind, Revealing glimpses of a glorious haven. *3x yfc ^ yfc