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 UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 
 
IDYLLS AND POEMS. 
 
IDYLLS AND POEMS 
 
 ANNA MARIA FAY 
 
 Siqui forte mearum ineptiarum 
 Lectores eritis^ 
 
 ii -"lo l.(g3JSJQ ~ 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS 
 
 182 FIFTH AVENUE 
 1879. 
 

 Copyright, 1879, by Anna Maria Fay. 
 
DEDICATION. 
 
 glWO sponsors have decreed my little book. 
 1| With one, it is but now just afternoon ; 
 
 He rests, that on his harvest he may look : 
 
 " My binded grain were safely garnered soon." 
 The flush of joy is on his toiling face ; 
 Again he looks : " One stalk is left unhewn ; 
 
 Among my golden sheaves it has a place." 
 
 The other has a glowing noon before, 
 
 And with the climbing sun she shines apace. 
 
 *' The fields," quoth she, " now teem with waiting 
 
 store. 
 And from its fulness many a bird doth sing ; 
 I would my kindred nest might add one more." 
 
 Easter, 1879. 
 
THE PILGRIM PAIR. 
 
 An Idyll. 
 
 God is ever drawing like to like and n^aking them ac- 
 quainted. 
 
 — Then the true lover and not the counterfeit must be loved 
 by his love. The Lysis of Plato. 
 
 — Whereas the love of the noble mind, which is in union 
 with the unchangeable, is everlasting. 
 
 The Symposium of Plato. 
 
 Jowett's translation. 
 
 iHEN bounteous Nature wears her fresh array, 
 
 II She guards with tender hand the firstling 
 flowers 
 
 And fruits, which haste to make their sweet dis- 
 play ; 
 
 She decks the waking wood with lustrous bowers 
 
 Of bloom, and sprinkles all the sward with 
 showers 
 
 Of glistening crystals from a cloudless sky. 
 
 Her prime has promise yet of costlier dowers. 
 
 Let all who love her mysteries, reverently 
 Approach with pious hearts and pure her altars high. 
 
4 IDYLLS AND POEMS. 
 
 Such time a youth did wend his joyous way, 
 To gain a neighboring height, whence he descries 
 A land all virginal to his survey. 
 Whose alien charm invites his young emprise ; 
 For where the hillside ends, there greets his eyes 
 A sylvan vale, and there a brooding cloud 
 Trails now a scarf-like shadow in soft wise 
 Across ; beyond with meadows rich endowed, 
 A river winds, outglancing from a vapory shroud. 
 
 He fronts full-faced the fresh uprisen sun 
 That lights to flame a crown of auburn hair ; 
 Tremulous waves of manly blood o'errun, 
 The comely face gloried with orient air ; 
 His eyes are sapphire unsurpassed — as rare 
 Their clear, frank gaze, their sweet and radiant 
 
 smile, 
 Caught by the lips within the golden lair 
 Of couchant wiles ; and now he stands awhile 
 In sculptured grace and looks o'er many a verdured 
 
 mile. 
 
IDYLLS AXD POEMS. 5 
 
 Lured by the welcome scene, he soon descends 
 A shelving path, and as his singing heart 
 Attunes his steps, the music faintfy blends 
 With harmonies that circle every part 
 Of earth's full life ; responsive birds too start 
 Melodious strains, and all the willing air 
 Rolls on the song that fills his youthful heart; 
 What more a daedal art might rashly dare 
 Finds here a voice and doth e'en added beauties 
 wear. 
 
 Thus gayly enters he the shadowed grove, 
 Yet shadow none he sees. The sobered light 
 Wins a fresh glory from the trees, that love 
 'Mid leafy depths to bloom in sil/ery white ; 
 The plumy fern poises for lowly flight, 
 And soft winds frolic with the dewy plant ; 
 And through the wood a brook beguiles his 
 
 sight, 
 The sphered morn sends oft his beams aslant, 
 To fleck its pebbly floor, its waves a gladness grant. 
 
6 IDYLLS AND POEMS. 
 
 He lies outstretched upon its mossy bank, 
 Lulled by the murmuring sounds, and in the 
 
 stream, 
 He idly views the wanton sport and crank 
 Of finny game, that here as fearless seem, 
 As they had won from him a friend's esteem. 
 At length there comes a strangely sudden freak ; 
 Awakened late he starts from vagrant dream ; 
 Now turns that he some purpose new may wreak, 
 Then moves perplexed where led a hidden thing to 
 seek. 
 
 Behold ! full near within a leafy screen 
 A maid appears. She stands in reverie still. 
 By a shrine-like tree upborne and rapt, I ween, 
 In thoughts an oft-perused page doth fill, 
 Tempting the glancing sun's celestial skill, 
 To gild her pale gold hair more goldenly. 
 But he restrains his ardent ray until 
 Her face's form he carves so beauteously. 
 Against its emerald depths as there for aye to be. 
 
IDYLLS AND POEMS. J 
 
 Anon the kindling beam touches her cheek, 
 Orbed like a moon that pearly mists o'erspread, 
 Glides o'er the fibrous cloud her robe, to seek 
 Those lines that down her matchless limbs 
 
 would lead, 
 Though dim revealed; still bent is she to read 
 What has been said by the dear Master sage : 
 When heaven a soul has there dissevered, 
 The parted mates meet here on this rude stage, 
 That Love may win the plumes for their home pil- 
 grimage. 
 
 While she doth these strange words importune 
 
 read, 
 Intrusive notes arouse her slumbering ear ; 
 She lifts her luminous fair face to heed 
 What means an irksome noise thus drawing near. 
 Her unexpectant eyes startle with gentle fear 
 Before the radiant youth, but changing thought 
 Soon lights in them a benediction dear ; 
 He bends as to familiar presence brought, 
 He knows not why; and she a kindred look has caught. 
 
8 IDYLLS AND POEMS. 
 
 Like a pale bud that hides a rosy hue 
 
 Deep in its folded core, and garners there 
 
 An essence pure amid still globes of dew, 
 
 So in her heart a blush is unaware 
 
 Close pent with unwept tears, that blameless 
 
 spare 
 The sunlit cheek ; meantime his glowing face 
 Hastes all his heart's fresh joyaunce to declare ; 
 His eyes, alert to catch her every grace. 
 Are fixed where her sweet form all other sights dis- 
 place, 
 
 Until a nearing peal of choral sound. 
 Allures his deep enraptured look to dwell 
 Where'er the silence breaks in mirth around ; 
 The maiden then is freed from his dear spell. 
 As when a bark that wind and tide impel 
 Afresh, nor far a wished-for port descries. 
 Stays not awhile of its rich freight to tell, 
 So she too treads the path that near her lies, 
 And softly vails the azure of her wistful eyes. 
 
IDYLLS AND POEMS. g 
 
 As fair she wends along the charmed vale, 
 The pathway trees dispose their lines to meet 
 And frame her gracious shape, the brook doth 
 
 fail 
 Its murmurings to time her rhythmic feet. 
 And in her praise the feathery choirs compete. 
 The youth would fain a captive mood dispel, 
 To follow her in some glad way discreet, 
 When lo ! as listening stillness holds the dell, 
 A song rings out, in semblance of a singing bell : 
 
 Sweet life afar and plumes akin 
 To hers ivho loves thee true; 
 
 Care not for earth's mad joys and din; 
 For her hid all adieu. 
 
 Sweet life afar and wings to waft 
 With her who loves thee dear ; 
 
 There waits the swift sea-faring crafty 
 And she across to steer. 
 
lO IDYLLS AND POEMS. 
 
 When dies the song in Echo's farthest cave, 
 The maiden meets the tryst of wood and sky. 
 "What ! earthly joys and weal I may not have, 
 It sings — must I for her such fate defy ? 
 Ah woful choice ! " he cries and breathes a sigh. 
 Herewith a burst of noisy revelry, 
 His prisoned thought invades with victor cry ; 
 Full many dazzling charms fling flauntingly 
 Their banner in his sight, along with this pert min- 
 strelsy. 
 
 Nor strange that Nature's modest light should 
 
 flee, 
 And cloak itself with shade, that airy choir 
 And harmless creatures' sport should silenced be. 
 When Pleasure's giddy followers conspire 
 To invade her sacred haunts in gay attire. 
 The jocund throng, which instant fill the wood, 
 Are willing slaves to measureless desire. 
 And one, who stirs with thirst their youthful 
 
 blood, 
 Leads here the rout enrobed in radiant womanhood. 
 
ID YLLS AND POEMS. 1 1 
 
 If one should seize a mermaid's store of pearls, 
 Should steal the crystal web where Iris paints 
 Her bow, and fusing both with foamy curls 
 Of crested wave, mould thus by dextrous feints 
 A shape to match the cup of pilgrim saints. 
 He would the pattern rare of that high car 
 Display, whose sumptuous burthen first attaints 
 The youth's sad gaze ; two steeds that rivals are 
 Of snowy swan, draw blazing bright the orient star, 
 
 Whose dazzling glare chases the lingering ray 
 Of yon sweet vanished moon, whereby the wood, 
 The dear deserted bower, the vernal day, 
 Are lurid with the glow of her gay mood : 
 A weird inconstant soul appears to brood 
 In her dark eyes, which fitful give a glance. 
 Now soft, now suiting some fresh attitude ; 
 A darting, gilded beam they throw askance, 
 Like altering beacon-lights that warn of dire mis- 
 chance. 
 
12 IDYLLS AND POEMS. 
 
 A coronal of dusky burnished hair 
 Above a smooth broad brow doth jewelled rise ; 
 The wedded charm of rose and lily rare 
 Graces her cheek, until the rose outdies 
 At her lithe throat, and leaves the lily there 
 To meet a shimmering robe of aspen green, 
 That clothes her sinuous form as native wear; 
 Bright gems gleam here and there with various 
 sheen, 
 And change makes all the history of this frail Queen. 
 
 She rises in her chariot to greet 
 The stranger youth, and showers a sparkling smile 
 From lips so ripened red, although unsweet. 
 Upon his lifted face, and all the while 
 Her artful company would more beguile 
 The charmed prey, and o'er him lightly fling 
 Bewilderment, that he in witched style 
 Is led, though still the peerless maid remember- 
 ing ; 
 Meanwhile in mimic notes the Siren bold did sing : 
 
IDYLLS A ND POEMS. 1 3 
 
 Sweet life is here, with joys akin 
 
 To hers who loves thee true; 
 Nor weal nor wealth nor earth's gay din 
 
 For her need'st bid adi/^ii. 
 
 Sweet life is here, and winds to waft 
 
 With her who loves thee dear; 
 Here plies the pleasure laden craft, 
 
 And she within to steer. 
 
 O riven soul ! O sadly tempted heart ! 
 What devious way may now thy steps be led, 
 Unsheltered from the Siren's magic art ! 
 Haste, heavenly maid ! the flowery bondage 
 
 dread 
 Quick break, and lead him to thy bourne instead. 
 O shade, that like a pall creep'st o'er the ground, 
 Enwrap him in thy folds as he were dead : 
 Come, plant thy valiant legions close around, 
 All tender earth, and guard him in thy depths pro- 
 found. 
 
14 IDYLLS AND POEMS. 
 
 Weep, weep indeed, thou tearful morning cloud ; 
 Shroud all thy bloom, henceforth, sweet spring- 
 time bower ; 
 And thou, fond brook, make thy soft plaints aloud; 
 He yields his heart to pleasure's baleful power. 
 Nor victory earns in this the fated hour. 
 No more with lowly wing the fern doth soar. 
 Nor vernal wood break joyous forth in flower; 
 No more the fragrant air breathes softly o'er 
 The glade; the vale with music sounds no more, no 
 more. 
 They leave the haunted sylvan gloom behind ; 
 They break into the garish day along 
 The summer fields, in golden garlands bind 
 The ripening corn, and all the festive throng 
 Wave high aloft their wreaths in dance and song, 
 And gayly crown with cheers their beauteous 
 
 queen. 
 The youth in manhood's prime grown trusty.strong 
 Guides well the troop through pleasant paths 
 serene. 
 To where the meadow meets the river's margent green. 
 
ID YLLS AND POEMS. I $ 
 
 Here rests full trimmed the royal pleasure boat 
 Waiting its happy crew ; the earth's full store, 
 The skilful arts are brought, with them to float 
 In lavish wealth adown the fruitful shore ; 
 The Queen beside the prow a guiding oar 
 Has touched, and all the airy caves resound 
 With rapturous shouts ; they softly glide before 
 The willing breeze ; they leave the homely 
 ground. 
 And softly glide with sweetly cadenced waves around. 
 
 They pass rich meads 'neath summer rays aglow ; 
 Sail now into the river's widening bay ; 
 By towns and loved abodes they onward go, 
 Where all the shores with cheerful scenes are 
 
 gay; 
 
 The watery mirror aids the bright display. 
 The Siren sits as goddess of the stream, 
 And spins the splendid hours ; with these a lay 
 She weaves of wizard lore or love's fair dream. 
 Until their glorious joys an endless vista seem. 
 
1 6 IDYLLS AND POEMS. 
 
 At length across this tissue deftly wrought, 
 
 A being moves, so still, so shadowy fair, 
 
 That none, save one, the wraith-like gleam has 
 
 caught. 
 At the Enchantress' feet, a captive there. 
 He hears low sounds now beat upon the air. 
 That say, " Care not for earth's mad joys and 
 
 din." 
 Then he, who of the words is sole aware. 
 Sees the dear phantom pass, in look akin 
 Unto a lily with its petals closed in. 
 
 Henceforth the splendors of the day grow pale 
 'Neath sorrow's cloud; he would arrest the shade, 
 Fain with blind tears her vanished sight bewail. 
 By any toil and vows the lily maid 
 Regain, were not a tribute on him laid 
 By the tyrannic Queen, whose knight is he. 
 She sees by his far gaze her thraldom fade. 
 Then sings of love and its felicity, 
 Thrilling her fervid lay with sweetest witchery: 
 
IDYLLS AND POEMS. 1 7 
 
 Wouldst thou but lead me, my true knight. 
 
 To love's sequestered bower, 
 There we should joy in soft delight, 
 
 And love would witig the hour. 
 
 The changeful winds are constant there. 
 
 Nor wanes the moon^s round face; 
 The sleepless stars reflect love's air. 
 
 The very stones its grace. 
 
 And I should be thine own, my knight, 
 
 Thy Queen, thy handmaid fair ; 
 All beauteous scenes should charm thy sight. 
 
 And I thy rapture share. 
 
 Come, lead me, claim me, love, my king; 
 
 Rich gems thy brow shall crown. 
 The world shall with thy splendor ring. 
 
 If thou wilt be mine own. 
 
1 8 IDYLLS AND POEMS. 
 
 No surging waves of manly blood o'errun 
 The wearied face ; no pride elates the eye, 
 And from the ravished lips no smile is won ; 
 No inner strings a fuller tone supply, 
 When on the air the Siren's words outdie, 
 Though passion thrill the song ; the dearer maid 
 And her swift loss still prompt each empty sigh ; 
 A careless traveller suddenly waylaid, 
 He is of all despoiled, nor hopes to be repaid. 
 
 And yet they feast in that o'ershadowed time. 
 Drain deep the brimming cup ; they pass the hills, 
 Which purple in their lofty western clime; 
 They sail until the mountain Storm-King fills 
 Their startled gaze ; the pleasure crew there 
 
 chills 
 With dire alarm; for threatening clouds now roll 
 Across his angry brow ; a warning sign, that 
 
 stills 
 Each heart, breathes through the air, as if the soul 
 Of some despairing wight had strayed beyond its goal. 
 
ID YLLS A ND FOE MS. 1 9 
 
 Of old the river flows from cloud-girt height, 
 And calm and free his regal way doth make ; 
 But when he deigns to prove his treasured might, 
 Shuts all his waves within a fortressed lake, 
 Till through its walls a seaward path they break, 
 Let but a tempest stand as sentinel, 
 And sound his warning there, quickly men wake 
 To misery who hear the fatal knell 
 With spreading sail and pass the dreaded citadel 
 
 Hence when the Queen and her pale band do 
 
 face 
 The buttressed port, now fierce the winds arise, 
 With mighty scourge lash on the boat apace. 
 For them no turn, no 'scape in their surprise ; 
 The rampart rude and strong around them lies, 
 And lofty cliffs shut out the cheerful light ; 
 Ensanguined hues clothe soon in wild disguise 
 The mazy woods, which here and there unite 
 The frowning heights and friendly paths enclose 
 from siiiht. 
 
20 ID YLLS AND POEMS. 
 
 Full soon the black and flying clouds descend 
 On vengeful wing ; the waters feel their gloom. 
 A lurid glare, and then a crash that seems to rend 
 The earth ; and evil portents woful loom 
 Above, around, and hurry on the doom ; 
 The changeful lights about the Queen depart, 
 And ashen gray and pallor fill their room; 
 In dumb affright and haste they shoreward start ; 
 For thoughts of self and safety crowd each panting 
 heart. 
 
 Anon the clouds outpour, and fright them back; 
 The bark is roughly driven to and fro. 
 And yet one dauntless heart they do not lack — 
 One soul the Siren did not all undo — 
 He still is strong to help them in their woe ; 
 No more he wears the look of favored ease. 
 No more the wearied face, the voice grown low 
 With slackened pulse; his glance is quick to seize 
 Each risk and with brave hope the horrid ills 
 appease. 
 
ID YLL S A ND POEMS. 2 1 
 
 Calm as the deep below the plunging keel, 
 Firm as the hills that gird the dismal shore, 
 True as a shield well proved of knightly steel, 
 He takes the helm ; his voice outshrills the roar 
 Of wind and waves, to give them hope once more ; 
 But hope alas ! is none — all — all is lost ; 
 A flash — a fearful sound — a poured out store 
 Of wrath — the boat amongst the rocks now tost — 
 They flee — they drown — the Queen has vanished 
 like a ghost. 
 
 The shattered bark adrift at length is cast 
 Upon a beach hard by a sloping wood ; 
 And therein senseless is outstretched the last 
 Of that gay company who had withstood 
 Their maddened flight ; and when erewhile the 
 
 flood 
 Swept high the boat, all safe on this bleak shore 
 His life was then, although the flaming blood 
 Flashes no more without, as once of yore, 
 And faded is the radiant look that then he wore. 
 
22 IDYLLS AND POEMS. 
 
 The storm has furrowed all his brow with lines, 
 Dulled with a frosty touch the gleaming hair ; 
 The golden fringed lids no wakeful signs 
 Disclose ; his aspect such as death might wear; 
 The russet leaves float on the buoyant air, 
 And sport about his face — ah ! who can tell 
 What sense a message to his heart doth bear ; 
 What quickened pulse the wanness doth dispel, 
 When sounds so faint aloft that strangely singing 
 bell ? 
 
 The love, that knew one blissful life 
 In Heaveii! s fair courts afar, 
 
 Need fear no pains of earthly strife 
 Its loyal faith can mar. 
 
 The love, that waits true life eterne, 
 For loss need never weep, 
 
 If still the grieved heart'' s concern 
 Is truly troth to keep. 
 
IDYLLS AND POEMS. 23 
 
 He lifts his drooping head and turns his gaze 
 Toward the light that upward floods the grove ; 
 Through scattered clouds the sun's last farewell 
 
 rays 
 A glory make ; and in the midst above, 
 One, like a spirit luminous, doth move, 
 Encircled by the gold and vermeil hues 
 That hide the waning time, as if to prove 
 That some bright creature here the glow renews, 
 Which the dull earth in yon departing orb must 
 
 lose. 
 
 Lo ! down the way embowered in hemlock shade, 
 O'erarched by darkling boughs of gaudy trees. 
 Along the ghostly shadows lengthening laid. 
 As though the angels waited her decrees, 
 Coming in joy, the peerless one he sees. 
 No starry orbs have light like her serene ; 
 Before her smile's salute all evil flees ; 
 Her very raiment hath a heavenly sheen, 
 Steeped fresh in odors, bearing healing balms un- 
 seen. 
 
24 ID YLLS AND POEMS. 
 
 She comes, the haunting vision of his youth, 
 The matchless Lady of his treasured dream ; 
 So silent, fleet, her steps of tender ruth, 
 Most piteous deeds I ween would her beseem ; 
 Much more her long-lost love she should redeem. 
 He swoons from rapturous pain ; and though 
 
 untried 
 Her pliant frame, with sudden power supreme. 
 She lifts and bears him where not far beside 
 A sheltered nook, a winged shallop waits the fateful 
 tide. 
 
 So gently laid she him ; kind rest thus given 
 The bruised limbs so soothed there his pain, 
 That the sealed eyes open beneath the heaven 
 Of her sweet graciousness ; then when she fain 
 To greet the yearning quest his looks regain, 
 Leans o'er the throbbing breast and meets his 
 
 gaze. 
 Fondly her yielding form his arms detain ; 
 Lip unto lip, heart unto heart displays 
 The height, the depth of love, in dear and sweet amaze. 
 
IDYLLS AND POEMS. 2$ 
 
 And then beyond the river's craggy lake, 
 Far down its seaward waves they swiftly glide ; 
 The opal skies new fired with flames awake, 
 And answering glory lights the flowing tide, 
 Where spreading banks in dimmer hues are dyed ; 
 Midway a circling heaven; in sweet content 
 The wedded souls would ever there abide ; 
 A transient gift the beauteous scene is sent ; 
 The splendor vanishes, the love for aye is meant. 
 
 So fades the round of yon effulgent West ; 
 The dusky earth in halcyon slumber lies ; 
 The river meets the sea and sinks to rest ; 
 Between two isles, and where the twilight dies, 
 The blessed gate of night wide open flies 
 And shuts the Pilgrim Pair from our dim sight. 
 The heavens now glad unclose their starry eyes. 
 Mute Nature now annuls her ancient right 
 Of silence drear, and song outbreaks from throned 
 heiffht: 
 
26 IDYLLS AND POEMS. 
 
 Urania Sings. 
 
 O sacred love ! O fair and fond ! 
 
 Thou hast thy victory won ; 
 Earth safely binds the riven bond, 
 
 And all her work is done. 
 
 The Starry Choir replies. 
 
 To yon far life they joyous float, 
 With boat and wing have crossed 
 
 The sea, the sky, the star remote, 
 And both in one are lost. 
 
THE MOUNTAIN SHRINE. 
 
 An Idyll. 
 
 Socrates. " Were we not saying that the soul too is then 
 dragged by the body into the region of the changeable, and 
 wanders and is confused ; the world spins around her and she 
 is like a drunkard under their influence? But when returning 
 into herself she reflects, then she passes into the realm of pu- 
 rity, and eternity, and immortality and unchangeableness, which 
 are her kindred and wi^h them she ever lives when she is by 
 herself, and is not let or hindered ; then she ceases from her err- 
 ing ways, and being in communion with the unchanging, is 
 unchanging. And this state of the soul is called wisdom." 
 
 . " She will not ask philosophy to release her, in 
 order that when released she may deliver herself up again to 
 the thraldom of pleasures and pains, doing a work only to be 
 undone again, weaving instead of unweaving her Penelope's 
 web. But she will make herself a calm of passion and follow 
 reason and dwell in her, beholding the true and divine (which 
 is not matter of opinion), and thence derive nourishment. 
 Thus she seeks to live while she lives, and after death she 
 hopes to go to her own kindred and be freed from human ills." 
 From the Phcsdo of Plato. 
 
 Jovvett's translation. 
 
28 IDYLLS AND POEMS. 
 
 PILGRIM. 
 THOU ! who turnest with a look as blank 
 As were a bladeless sheath, tarnished and 
 worn, 
 Toward yon sloping path, why is thy garb 
 Of beauty reft, or strangely cast aside ? 
 Tell me, sweet maid, thy sad, melodious tale. 
 
 MAIDEN. 
 
 Ah ! sir, I mourn a loss where love is nought. 
 Had but the form of my dead loss remained 
 To wait a soul's return, this world the stone 
 Sealing his sepulchre, I here would sit ; 
 Nor time, nor hunger's pangs, nor flaming sword 
 Of angel drive me hence, until my lord 
 Should issue forth to answer my shrill call. 
 
 PILGRIM. 
 
 Thy tale, sweet maid, thy sad, melodious tale, 
 Under the hemlock shade ; this outward height 
 O'erlooking here the fair familiar land 
 Will give us rest ; see how the golden air 
 
IDYLLS AND POEMS. 29 
 
 Tints the dull pall of life's approaching bier; 
 Night takes the torch from day's departing orb ; 
 Slowly the earth's rich harvest homeward wends, 
 And peace unlocks the prison gates of pain ; 
 Tell me, sweet maid, thy sad, melodious tale. 
 
 MAIDEN. 
 
 How hard it is to tell of love pressed back 
 
 Upon the living heart, and of the wreck 
 
 That brought this woe ! This is my dolorous strain. 
 
 PILGRIM. 
 
 The plumy fern, that countless years of old 
 
 Perished in central depths of jetty ore, 
 
 Guessed not its fate might haply be, afar 
 
 To fill with glowing warmth a bridal hearth. 
 
 So love, down-trod and fused with tears on earth, 
 
 May die to light a paradise beyond ; 
 
 Tell me, sweet maid, thy sad, melodious tale, 
 
 MAIDEN. 
 
 For me a paradise .'' ah ! not for me. 
 
30 IDYLLS AND POEMS. 
 
 But now, I pray, since what thou ask'st is dear, 
 
 Avert thine eyes while I attempt my theme. 
 
 Surely an angel passed this way and laid 
 
 His hand upon my brow and stilled its throb, 
 
 Or else cherubic wings enfold me here; 
 
 For to thy voice faint echoes answer now 
 
 Amid the ruins of my heart; thy face 
 
 Yields to a face, methinks, I knew long since, 
 
 Of one, who e'en up to the throne of God 
 
 Would lead my soul. He meeting me, who once 
 
 Was called fair Marianne, where a far hill 
 
 With sliding step reaches a floor-like vale 
 
 And fronts a circling height, there welcomed me. 
 
 The blush of maiden spring suffused the land, 
 
 Unclothed as yet with verdured loveliness ; 
 
 And here at first with thought intent to hunt. 
 
 Through wood and glade, the bloom of meetinj 
 
 climes, 
 The garden's birth to hail or pristine bird, 
 I learned to love the spirit's youthful flight, 
 Borne as it were on hardier wing aloft. 
 As generous as a stream from cloud-girt fount, 
 
ID YLLS AND POEMS. 3 1 
 
 That takes, on its swift way, a lowly brook, 
 And gifts the lesser wave with power to spring, 
 In feathery curves, to his high source, was this 
 My friend ; though crowned with snow like his own 
 
 heights, 
 Upon his wintry face a nearer heaven 
 Serenely shone, and in the deepened eyes 
 A primal glow with gathered shades of thought 
 Was blent ; what though his voice no longer rang 
 With equal tone, still on mine ear it broke 
 Harmonious as a chime and changeful peal. 
 When lightly from his lips remembered notes 
 Of many-tuned imperial singers fell. 
 In converse thus, through fairest realms of lore, 
 Day followed day, bud unto leaf and flower 
 Came, and in that procession sveet, to me 
 Unfolding life ; and e'en retracing now 
 The lost bright hours, my spirit dimly knows 
 An onward throe. 
 
 So where the river cuts 
 Lengthwise the plain, along its meadowed marge, 
 
32 IDYLLS AND POEMS. 
 
 By stately sentinels of elms we strayed, 
 
 Until the sun his s^the-like beams sent forth 
 
 And swept the waving meads ; we then, that feared 
 
 His might, willingly sought the leafy shades, 
 
 Such as below this airy height restrain 
 
 The glaring fields and tempt to pensive walk. 
 
 Cool depths allured, with shuddering fall and lull, 
 
 Of rock-divided, meeting waves ; the path 
 
 That winding now, now upward gliding, ever 
 
 Cheating reluctant feet, a tent-door showed 
 
 Of parted boughs, and thence beneath outspread 
 
 The glowing busy world ; convenient props were 
 
 there 
 Of shapen trees and stones for restful seat ; 
 Here curtained in dark leaves, a twilight mood 
 Upon us fell ; one mused or careless gazed 
 Outlooking, but soon to the other, calm 
 In silence merged, silence in unwatched sleep, 
 My dear friend slept, the sleep of wearied steps. 
 But I— 
 
 PILGRIM. 
 
 But thou, as if guarding alone 
 
ID YLLS AND POEMS. 33 
 
 A holy gate, seest approaching thee 
 A friend, who asks the opening key ; yet him 
 Thou answer'st not, but stoop'st to gather flowers, 
 Thrown there — who knows ? perchance thrown there 
 
 — ah ! no. 
 Thy tale, sweet maid, thy sad, melodious tale. 
 
 MAIDEN. 
 
 Were I a veiled nun and thy barred face 
 In darkness set, how light a task to tell 
 My tale ! — And so — the welling fount of youth 
 Needing no pause to garner wasteful store,. 
 But rather spending ere the fount were full — 
 I could not brook the whelming hush around. 
 But turned a greeting look abroad and hoped 
 For answer meet ; a breathing fragrance gave 
 The sole response ; the odorous sigh of some 
 Fair floral thing, calling for near caress, 
 Methought ; and this I sought, nor waited long. 
 The sweet breath led me on ; " The flowers," I said, 
 " Have hid away, the truant wind but goes 
 Before," yet flowers none were anywhere. 
 
34 ID YLLS AND POEMS. 
 
 Then suddenly, as if the wind had swept 
 A lyre, was heard a low aerial song : 
 
 O MariaJiiie ! fair Maria?ine/ 
 
 Dost hear the breezes softly sigh. 
 
 The waving leaves take up the cry ? 
 Dost heed the breath the pine trees fan. 
 
 And flowers seek as it goes by ? 
 O Marianne I fair Marianne I 
 
 Dost hear the breezes softly sigh ? 
 
 And yet before the wind began, 
 
 Something there was more still, more nigh, 
 
 Did sigh and cry and ask reply ; 
 Jt was a heart that led the van ; 
 O Marianne ! fair Mariamie / 
 
 Dost hear the still heart faintly sigh ? 
 
 Whence came and why that thrilling song ? Why now 
 The rapturous spring toward a promised goal, 
 The mute abeyance of bewildered sense ? 
 
IDYLLS AND POEMS. 35 
 
 As when a life-long prisoned bird outbursts 
 Her cage, yet soon alights upon its bars 
 A trembling thing, that dares not any flight. 
 But once again I heard the rhythmic call, 
 The musical sweet coil around me thrown 
 That drew me on; no voice from out the past 
 Sounded above the pleading melody ; no voice 
 Within was prompt to wake discordant notes. 
 My heart quick answered to the call, and so 
 I followed it unmindful of the way. 
 But even while the last fond strains expired 
 Slowly with sighs, fading away as if 
 Within a cave, where harmonies grow faint, 
 And then revive to fail and die afar, 
 I stood before the portal of a fane, 
 Shaped seemingly by Nature's mystic hand, 
 A porch with woodbine overgrown, and still 
 Part of the mountain-side ; symmetric lines 
 Converging to a dome were hid in leaves, 
 But showing underneath the woven green, 
 What might be crystal by its various light, 
 So skilfully disposed the hues, the shape, 
 
36 IDYLLS AND POEMS. 
 
 Irreverent eyes might pass and nought discern. 
 
 Yet here to me a shrine was now disclosed, 
 
 The temple of an undiscovered power, 
 
 Perchance the source of yon enchanting lay. 
 
 I entered in, no soil of earthly wear 
 
 Upon my feet, as virginal my heart 
 
 As though a vail of heavenly woof adorned 
 
 My head, ushered into a presence thus, 
 
 Glory within glory and I enclosed ; 
 
 And while the splendor held me in its mesh. 
 
 Blind Hope with tools of fire was there to play 
 
 Upon the silent pulses of my life. 
 
 Then did the conscious air a wondrous thing 
 
 Reveal, that spanned the distance with a look 
 
 From eager, smiling eyes ; the mouth a bow 
 
 Relaxed, as if its ringing shaft had sped ; 
 
 The white hand void of lines in welcome raised, 
 
 Joined to a form, self-poised in steadfast power ; 
 
 And all suffused with a pervasive charm, 
 
 Fresh as it were from Heaven's creative hand. 
 
 But a creation fuller, more divine, 
 
 Than aught this world had harbored here till now, 
 
IDYLLS AND POEMS. 
 
 Scarce can my failing sense these scanty traits 
 Recall, immersed in deepening length of gloom. 
 I pray thee fill the vacant round with what 
 Were best and fairest in thy rich surmise, 
 And thou hast him portrayed who took from me 
 The lordship of my heart. Not strange it seemed 
 The amorous crystal air should hold him clasped 
 Unyielding in its grasp, he moved not thence, 
 But like a charmed captive still appeared 
 Eager to leave the cold stiff height and come. 
 Nor wonder thou, that spell-bound I should gaze 
 Upon a face of such imperial power. 
 Gaze till the full nobility had stored 
 The ready mould within my passive soul. 
 Yet to the rounding of the perfect form, 
 I looked on that high grace and person fair. 
 Meanwhile a voiceless song to speechless words 
 Was set, whereto my heart's short gamut moved 
 A few unchanging notes in changeful chords : 
 
 I would that wisdom here might pass and might. 
 Clothed in the Hneaments of peerless men, 
 
38 IDYLLS AND POEMS. 
 
 That I might choose with whom to wed, and then 
 Apart should stand one, whom, as to the light, 
 
 I turn, unmarked, unknown, yet in my sight 
 A crowned king ; beheld I ne'er again 
 Splendor and power, what loss were this, if when 
 He claimed my troth, he did my love requite. 
 
 Again if he must here a prisoner stay. 
 
 Unless there came to him a swift release 
 Would I outdo all others in the strife ; 
 
 And what were highest fame and sweetest ease 
 Unshared, if he with faithful love should say, 
 " Thou, thou alone canst fill with joy my life ? " 
 
 This music stirred my being's inmost depths ; 
 
 On a beloved one its waves must break, 
 
 But he ne'er moved nor uttered aught, but held 
 
 His winning look, his calm majestic front. 
 
 " It is," I said, " yon cruel loving air 
 
 Detains him thus ; let me but hide without. 
 
 Surely it will release its jealous clasp. 
 
 Or else some magic must undo this spell." 
 
 And to the threshold of the sacred shrine 
 
IDYLLS AND POEMS. 39 
 
 I turned, the dear succession of sweet notes 
 
 Sweeping my spirit's hidden strings, 
 
 In change and counterchange the self-same words, 
 
 Until above the palpitating strains. 
 
 Awoke once more that tender echoing call. 
 
 While yet the sound, vibrated on mine ear, 
 
 I entered joyously the holy place ; 
 
 Ah ! holy place no more — the splendor gone — 
 
 Fled all the glory and the vision — where ? 
 
 My outstretched hands encountered frigid light, 
 
 Framed as it seemed, hard, featureless, and blank , 
 
 A pale, sad ray behind the crystal space, 
 
 And there a form in unresponsive clay, 
 
 The strange similitude, in every line, 
 
 Of him I worshipped in his transient prime. 
 
 A marble image held my soul enclosed, 
 
 And, as through utmost bale it gazed without, 
 
 The cold dumb statue slowly fell apart 
 
 And crumbled into shapeless dust. Then gloom 
 
 As of a sunless year encompassed me, 
 
 And midmost in an orb of empty hours 
 
 I stood, until I heard thy kindly voice. 
 
40 ID YLLS AND POEMS. 
 
 PILGRIM. 
 I pray thee, when the arid summer moon 
 Throws on the sea a moving continent 
 Of crimpled light and unsubstantial gold, 
 Should one deceived plunge into the black 
 Oblivious deep, and bury there his loss ? 
 Yet thou, when first upon the mirroring sea 
 Of thy young imagining did strangely fall 
 A passing show of earthly grace, wouldst sink 
 Bereft under a dark unfathomed grief. 
 Stand thou not thus, dear maid, in dull despair ; 
 This germ of love, of its unvalued husk 
 Despoiled, can upspring into wide-wings 
 Not uncompanioned and bear thee forth 
 Unto the very stream of onward life, 
 That issues from the Empyrean Throne. 
 
 MAIDEN. 
 
 Ah ! now I know that heavenward face and true ; 
 Again I hear the many-sounding voice 
 Of old ; see I not there our golden vale ? 
 All, all return, the dear, the fair, save one. 
 Lead thou me on, and yet — and yet — alas ! 
 
KING SIGMUND'S WOE. 
 
 A BALLAD. 
 
 Recast from an incident in William Morris's Sigurd the 
 Volsuns:. 
 
 HERE earth and skies are northward, 
 Upsprung the Volsung race ; 
 
 There seas and frosty mountains, 
 Held it in rude embrace ; 
 
 A mighty prince among them 
 Was Sigmund, brave and strong, 
 
 But forced to live an alien, 
 
 Because of treacherous wrong. 
 
 When years had brought him power 
 And wealth of kingly kind, 
 
 He left his dreary exile, 
 His own again to find ; 
 
42 ID YLLS AND POEMS. 
 
 Left all his foes defeated, 
 And fled the foreign land, 
 
 And with a Wildwood foundling, 
 He sought his native strand. 
 
 A son, this Wildwood foundling, 
 
 His own and fondly dear ; 
 In all his crafts and prowess. 
 
 Did he the stripling rear ; 
 Reared him to face such danger 
 
 As strength alone rnight dare ; 
 Him, ah ! he could not dower 
 
 Against the venom ed snare. 
 
 Their king his people welcomed ; 
 
 He wore his father's crown. 
 And soon was there beside him 
 
 A queen of fair renown ; 
 Sweet peace and every blessing 
 
 Did Sigmund's wrongs requite; 
 Reward awaited valor. 
 
 And right was met by right. 
 
IDYLLS AND POEMS. 43 
 
 But soon beneath the roof-tree, 
 
 He felt the serpent's fangs ; 
 Its horrid length unwinding 
 
 To coil with deadly fangs ; 
 The Queen a hate had nourished 
 
 For that dear Wildwood son, 
 Whose deeds of bold achievement 
 
 A world-wide fame had won. 
 
 One eve, when russet Autumn 
 
 Had garnered all his store, 
 When feast and friendly greeting 
 
 Flung wide the generous door, 
 The Queen, gold-clad and beauteous, 
 
 The royal board did grace, 
 And served the brimming beaker 
 
 With fair and smiling face. 
 
 " O son ! take thou the wine-cup 
 
 I give with loving hand." 
 Her guileless words were spoken 
 
 In tones of soft command. 
 
44 IDYLLS AND POEMS. 
 
 He took the proffered wine-cup 
 
 And therein gazed long ; 
 1 On gathered toil he pondered, 
 
 And wrong that weds with wrong. 
 
 His father next beside him 
 
 Did urge his brooding son : 
 "What evil holds thee speechless, 
 
 What thought hath thirst forerun?" 
 " Hate fills the golden wine-cup, 
 
 The dregs therein I see." 
 " I'll drink the hateful potion," 
 
 Said Sigmund fearlessly. 
 
 For venom-proof was Sigmund, 
 
 He drained the cup unharmed ; 
 Up-woke at once the harp-strings. 
 
 His heart from care was charmed ; 
 He drank the wine of King-folk, 
 
 In song their deeds were told, 
 Glad was the soul of Sigmund, 
 
 No care his heart could hold. 
 
IDYLLS AND POEMS. 45 
 
 The Queen, gold-clad and beauteous, 
 
 A second cup did bring ; 
 She stood with gracious presence 
 
 Before the prince and king ; 
 A golden beaker carried 
 
 In hands of snowy white, 
 And spake with honied accents 
 
 To that unwilling knight : 
 
 " O son ! hast proved the wine-cup 
 
 I offered thee but now ? 
 Could hate with it be mingled 
 
 For one so brave as thou ? 
 Drink then this cup I offer, 
 
 A philter sweet distilled ; 
 No hate is in my bosom, 
 
 My heart with love is filled." 
 
 He took the lovmg wine-cup, 
 
 And o'er it brooded long, 
 On coming labor pondered, 
 
 And wrong that mendeth wrong; 
 
46 IDYLLS AND POEMS. 
 
 His father next beside him 
 Did urge his laggard son : 
 
 " The earls of men are merry ; 
 With care I pray be done." 
 
 He held the brimming beaker, 
 
 And in it still did gaze : 
 " Here deathly snare is hidden, 
 
 I see its evil maze." 
 " See there whate'er thou wiliest, 
 
 And give the cup to me, 
 I'll drink the snareful potion," 
 
 Said Sigmund fearlessly. 
 
 For venom-proof was Sigmund ; 
 
 He drained the cup unharmed. 
 Up-woke again the harp-strings, 
 
 His heart from care was charmed ; 
 He drank the wine of King-folk, 
 
 In song their deeds were told ; 
 Secure the soul of Sigmund, 
 
 No care his heart could hold. 
 
ID YLLS AND POEMS. 4/ 
 
 The Queen, gold-clad and beauteous, 
 
 Once more the cup did bring ; 
 Stood forth with haughty bearing 
 
 Before the prince and king ; 
 A golden beaker carried 
 
 In hands of snowy white, 
 And spake with scornful accents 
 
 To that discourteous knight : 
 
 " How false are all the singers 
 
 That vaunt in every land 
 Thy deeds of splendid daring, 
 
 The ills thou canst withstand ! 
 For death thou surely fearest, 
 
 And fain wouldst live for aye ; 
 Else why shunn'st thou the wine-cup 
 
 Its loving cheer decry ? " 
 
 Then from her pallid fingers 
 
 He took the proffered wine. 
 And looked within the beaker, 
 
 As if for treacherous sign ; 
 
48 IDYLLS AND POEMS. 
 
 And as he grasped it firmly, 
 O'er it he pondered long 
 
 On toil that toil begetteth, 
 
 On wrong that beareth wrong. 
 
 The King turned there about him : 
 
 " O ! son, what aileth thee ? 
 Ne'er shall our days be merry, 
 
 From travail ne'er be free ? " 
 His son did sternly answer. 
 
 As in the cup he gazed, 
 " Death waiteth in the wine-cup," 
 
 He said, no whit amazed. 
 
 Now Sigmund's soul was steeped 
 
 In dreamy wine and song ; 
 Within, the shouting people. 
 
 The mirth of all the throng : 
 Without, the waving tree-boughs. 
 
 The wild-wind's ceaseless sound 
 The hoary years were on him, 
 
 He would a rest were found. 
 
IDYLLS AND POEMS. 49 
 
 " Drink, son, the blissful wine-cup ; 
 
 Thy lip let death outstrain." 
 Thus cried the weary Sigmund, 
 
 Nor cried he thus in vain. 
 Sinfiotli laughing answered : 
 
 " I'll drink to Odin then, 
 And dwellers up in Valhal, 
 
 That hold the lives of men." 
 
 He drank the fateful wine-cup ; 
 
 Its work was quickly done. 
 Prone on the floor was fallen 
 
 The Volsung's noble son ; 
 The ancient roof-tree trembled 
 
 Throughout the lordly hall ; 
 Men's hearts with grief were stricken, 
 
 That saw the mighty fall. 
 
 No word in death he uttered, 
 
 No change was in his look ; 
 He bore his passing bravely, 
 
 As he no fear did brook ; 
 
50 IDYLLS AND POEMS. 
 
 But still the air was parted 
 By one swift piercing cry ; 
 
 'Twas Sigmund's sudden waking 
 To see the Volsung die. 
 
 The lifeless head he lifted 
 
 And o'er him palsied bent ; 
 So heart-deep was his sorrow, 
 
 None gazed on his, lament ; 
 As Odin over Baldur, 
 
 None durst on him intrude, 
 Alone as in the Wildwood, 
 
 Amid that multitude. 
 
 Then from the floor he raised him, 
 
 And laid him on his breast, 
 Toward the doorway hastened, 
 
 And told to none his quest; 
 The night-wind's sweep was wrathful, 
 
 The clouds were piled on high. 
 The moon with shattered lances 
 
 Broke through the serried sky. 
 
ID YLLS AND POEMS. 5 I 
 
 Thus with his sorrow laden, 
 
 He passed from out men's sight ; 
 Beyond their happy dwellings, 
 
 He held his ghostly flight. 
 He trod the dreary thicket, 
 
 The wind's last refuge faced, 
 Along the foot of mountains. 
 
 Through dales of deer unchased. 
 
 Crossed here his path a river ; 
 
 A swirling flood it seemed, 
 Nor any helpful ferry 
 
 His weary steps redeemed. 
 Still by its side he hastened. 
 
 As one that something sought, 
 Unmindful of the travail, 
 
 By which his way was fought. 
 
 He bore his Wildwood darling 
 
 Close pressed upon his breast. 
 The ebon night grew moonless, 
 
 No dawn broke in the east ; 
 
52 IDYLLS AND POEMS. 
 
 The footprints of his anguish 
 Marked all the untrod way ; 
 
 A desert plain he entered 
 Before the gleaming day. 
 
 He still the river followed, 
 
 That widened toward a sea, 
 When o'er it came a glimmer 
 
 Ere yet the dawn could be ; 
 The sound of keel-cleft waters 
 
 Next broke upon his ear ; 
 He paused beside the whirl-tide 
 
 To see what now drew near. 
 
 A white-winged boat before him 
 
 Ran lightly on the strand ; 
 And there a mighty Captain, 
 
 Grey-clad like mountain land, 
 One-eyed and seeming ancient. 
 
 He hailed the laden King : 
 " O ! whither now. King Sigmund ? 
 
 How far doth night thee bring?" 
 
IDYLLS AND POEMS. 53 
 
 " I seek across these waters 
 
 To gain the farther shore, 
 Perchance to win new kingship, 
 
 For here is Hfe no more." 
 " Lay thou thy load on shipboard, 
 
 The night soon greets the day ; 
 My senders bade me ferry 
 
 A great King on his way." 
 
 King Sigmund did his bidding ; 
 
 His son on board he laid, 
 And next himself would follow. 
 
 When he was strangely stayed — 
 Nor boat nor man were waiting, 
 
 Nor son was on his breast; 
 He scanned the empty waters, 
 
 Now here — now there his quest, 
 
 Till o'er the inky wavelets 
 
 A morning shimmer crept. 
 Then Sigmund turned him homeward, 
 
 And on his way he kept, 
 
54 ID YLLS AND POEMS. 
 
 And ere the sunny noontide 
 Upon his throne was set, 
 
 No queen was there beside him, 
 No joy nor feast was yet, 
 
 But deeds to do all kingly, 
 
 In war-fields fame to win, 
 Until the mighty Odin 
 
 Reft 'mid the battle's din 
 The flaming sword of Sigmund ; 
 
 And from the fore-front grim, 
 To God home went great Sigmund, 
 
 Where one awaited him. 
 
THE SEA SWALLOW OF WODEN'S 
 HOLE. 
 
 A BALLAD. 
 
 MAID that dwelt upon the shore, 
 The splintered shore of Mavis Sound, 
 Once heard above the sea's dull roar 
 
 A strain that winded round and round, 
 And ever onward, inward bound. 
 
 Sweeping the sky within her range, 
 A circling form her eyes soon found. 
 
 Which cleft the air so darkly strange, 
 The wondrous bird of Woden's Holl. 
 
 She oft had paused beside a stone, 
 Graven with letters old and worn, 
 
 Many a day and all alone, 
 
 Early and late, at eve and morn. 
 
 Such days as were of summer born, 
 
$6 ID YLLS AND POEMS. 
 
 To ponder o'er a curious rune, 
 But never yet was she o'erborne 
 
 By sight like this that day of June, 
 Which brought the bird of Woden's Holl. 
 
 The stone upon a hillside lay, 
 
 That sloped toward a southern sea ; 
 Westward there stretched an inland bay, 
 
 And from broad ocean on the lee 
 The freshened sun rose gloriously. 
 
 There sat the maid and sang a song 
 Learned late of Northern Minstrelsy ; 
 
 Each note she heard a cry prolong, 
 It was that bird of Woden's Holl : 
 
 O ! would I were a swallow j 
 My true love I would follow. 
 
 And follow, follow him. 
 Away would flee tny sorrow, 
 Could I my love now follow, 
 
 And follow, follow him. 
 
IDYLLS AND POEMS. 57 
 
 Fd wing the seas wide hollow, 
 And leave all else to follow, 
 To follow, folloiu him. 
 
 When on her lips the last words ceased, 
 
 The bird upon the stone had lit ; 
 A tear each brimming sluice released, 
 
 Nor did its gaze her face once quit, 
 But searching there it dared to sit. 
 
 Filled then her eyes with tearful dew, 
 As if her heart thereto were knit, 
 
 Before the mystery she knew 
 Of that strange bird of Woden's Holl. 
 
 She now essayed the song again, 
 
 But trembling seized the feathered thing. 
 Her voice sent forth its notes in vain ; 
 
 She could no more the ditty sing. 
 But sought to take the tenderling 
 
 In her warm palms and comfort give. 
 The bird outstretched an upward wing. 
 
 Quailing sad sounds and fugitive. 
 That wondrous bird of Woden's Holl. 
 
58 IDYLLS AND POEMS. 
 
 The maid's soft heart was quite unstrung ; 
 
 She loved all dumb and piteous kind ; 
 By this her inmost soul was wrung, 
 
 And thus she cried : " Where shall I find 
 Some clue this sorrow will unwind, 
 
 And whence has come the mystic chance 
 Its fate with mine has intertwined ? 
 
 O ! let me seek deliverance 
 P'or this sad bird of Woden's Holl." 
 
 Downward she turned to leave the hill, 
 
 Nor looked far glancing o'er the sheen 
 Of islanded blue waters still, 
 
 Beneath an orient sun ; between 
 Two headlands hard by swathed in green, 
 
 A harbor lay smooth as a mere. 
 She heeded not the beauteous scene ; 
 
 The wail and circling flight were near 
 Of that strange bird of Woden's Holl. 
 
 And if she missed this vision fair, 
 A stranger bark she missed no less, 
 
IDYLLS AND POEMS. 59 
 
 Rigged in a fashion old and rare, 
 Havened erewhile and tenantless ; 
 
 And one that wore an ancient dress, 
 Taking a path that upward led. 
 
 To meet her in her new distress, 
 Her and the fleeting one o'erhead, 
 
 That wondrous bird of Woden's Holl. 
 
 A cloud-like hood half hid his face, 
 
 Cloaked was his form in grey disguise, 
 And yet his words had sweetest grace, 
 
 While thus he spoke in foreign wise : 
 " Return, dear maid, where yon stone lies, 
 
 And I its history will tell ; 
 The rune for thee shall yield a prize, 
 
 And so reveal the wizard spell 
 Of that strange bird of Woden's Holl." 
 
 " Here Viking Sigurd left his life, 
 When on his dragon-ship he came ; 
 
 Far was the Frost Giant's deadly strife. 
 Near was his love's undying flame. 
 
6o IDYLLS AND POEMS. 
 
 He came to seek Valhalla fame, 
 
 Or finding else a golden land, 
 Wrest from its fruits a noble name, 
 
 And claim by right, fair Ragnhild's hand. 
 
 " She in sky-piercing strains meanwhile 
 
 Craved of the Fates a swift decree, 
 That she might fly the ice-clad isle ; 
 
 A swallow fleet she asked to be. 
 And follow Sigurd o'er the sea. 
 
 Sadly the Norns allowed her prayer ; 
 She spread wide wings that waving free 
 
 Near Sigurd's bark soon beat the air. 
 
 " Seest thou yon isle, — the headlands here "i 
 
 There Sigurd passed, and here his feet 
 Touched first the joyous ground ; no fear 
 
 Surprised his soul, but hope to greet 
 The summer land at this dear seat; 
 
 But alien barb swift pierced his heart, 
 And here is carved his defeat. 
 
 While she long waits death's vengeless dart, 
 The wondrous bird of Woden's Holl." 
 
SONNETS. 
 
TWO SONNETS. 
 
 IN MEMORIAM 
 
 F. D. 
 I. 
 
 HAT vision meets thy wonder-gazing eyes 
 Upon the cloudy Pisgah heights of death ? 
 Seest thou the fair familiar home beneath 
 In dewy garb, jewelled by Orient skies? 
 
 Or doth a wondrous sea thy sight surprise, 
 
 And spectre bark await thy parting breath ? 
 Stands there the master mute and beckoneth 
 To bear thee where the far shore gleaming lies ? 
 
 Or doth the echoing air thy soul amaze. 
 
 Wafting melodious strains from answering choirs 
 Of voices dear, along thy heart's full strings ? 
 
 But whether sight or sound thy spirit stays, 
 
 In sleep the Night of time and pain expires, 
 And Death the gates of day wide open swings. 
 
64 IDYLLS AND POEMS. 
 
 11. 
 
 ILL thou wast laid within thy kindred earth, 
 
 *»-*Mt The harrowed ground, which pains like 
 thine assail, 
 Did not its vernal glory glad unvail, 
 But sadly masked life with seeming dearth. 
 
 In tears they bear thee from thy widowed hearth, 
 And weeping skies thy open grave bewail ; 
 Then when the baptized earth thy form doth hail, 
 Long waiting life has sudden beauteous birth. 
 
 With rapturous Spring thy raptured soul doth rise ; 
 The plough, the harrow, which the soil did bear, 
 Lend but fresh marvel to its verdant dress ; 
 
 O thou ! as racked with throes and long distress. 
 As true, as bountiful in others' wear. 
 Thus too thy soul attains its glorious guise. 
 
IDYLLS AND POEMS. 65 
 
 IN MEMORIAM 
 
 With thee bring 
 
 Him that yon soars on golden wing, 
 Guiding the fiery wheeled throne. 
 The cherub Contemplation. 
 
 Milton. 11 Penseroso. 
 
 []0R one brief hour I felt the full impress, 
 
 As of a cherub's might, who here was sent, 
 
 To ponder, not to know his work's intent, 
 
 His past bright lot, the crown of blessedness 
 In store, steeped all in sweet forgetfulness. 
 
 Lest to his mission lost in sad lament 
 
 Of home, or of its joys so eloquent, 
 
 That we, enrapt, should miss the daily stress. 
 So thou cherubic soul — thou lovedst while here 
 
 To search, to meditate, but not to act ; 
 
 Returning with thine hoard thou serv'st anew 
 The God thou didst in his great laws revere. 
 
 There may'st thou, amidst the proof of glorious 
 fact, 
 
 In converse high new realms of thought subdue ! 
 
A TALE IN TWO SONNETS. 
 I. 
 
 THE REASONING. 
 
 LOVE her well ; the glow of her true heart 
 Kindles a fireside flame within my own ; 
 Her soul completing mine with powers unknown 
 Before, I soon have gained a long-sought art, 
 
 Or depths of thought no sage could e'er impart. 
 
 Borne on her soul's fair plumes till wings have 
 
 grown 
 Near by my heart, my spirit since has flown 
 With hers above the world's vain, dusky mart. 
 
 But what if these were moods of transient stay ? 
 
 What if the twin-bound life should bear a weight, 
 Or that the unshared fate have joys instead ? 
 
 To troops of friends I need no fitting mate ; 
 
 Nought hinders me to join their rich array, 
 Ah me ! unless that I should with her wed. 
 
IDYLLS AND POEMS. 6/ 
 
 II. 
 
 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 MND pondering thus, the fateful tide swept by. 
 Then languor fell upon her like a vail 
 Of palest woof, and though she did not fail 
 To give of her sweet store, yet whene'er I 
 
 Took of the full hoard, blight would on it lie, 
 As on hid manna in the Sacred tale. 
 Henceforth no work of mine did e'er avail, 
 As if my life did want for some supply ; 
 
 And friends, that once had praised my gracious arts. 
 Fell from me like the leaves blown rudely down 
 From hoary trees. O ! well may I repine, 
 
 To find too late no joys for severed hearts. 
 
 Better the double life, the cross, the crown ; 
 Alas ! what would I now, if she were mine ? 
 
A DREAM. 
 
 IKE a wild bird one hath ensnared, in vain 
 I beat the prison bars of sordid care. 
 
 " O sweet escape to wing the buoyant air, 
 By one glad flight yon azure calm attain," 
 
 I cried till sleep o'erpowered my sad refrain. 
 
 In dreams now borne I know not how nor where, 
 I reached the portals of a cave which there 
 Uprose, and whence I must an outlet gain. 
 
 When first among a waiting band I hailed 
 
 One long beloved, whose strong hand firm I 
 
 grasped 
 And passed into a marble-depth of night ; 
 
 An arm unknown my shrinking form enclasped. 
 
 And o'er my fears these gracious words pre- 
 vailed : 
 "Who first the dark hath met, sees first the 
 light." 
 
M 
 
 A CHANCE MEETING. 
 
 WAS strange when first I met thy sudden face 
 In June ; when June held nothing sweet for me, 
 I mused, there flashed a radiant look from thee 
 That said, " I knew thee in some starry place." 
 
 I, through the strain of my long tested race, 
 On this sad course forgetful, could not see 
 With thy clear light. But soon the mystery 
 Dissolved ; I too once loved thy spirit's grace. 
 
 Thou later from the heavenly home couldst steep 
 Thine eyes in its divinest memories, 
 Revealing them to me in that one glance ; 
 
 I earlier at the happy goal will keep 
 
 That meaning look apart, whatever chance 
 Intrude, and greet thee first in Paradise. 
 
LOVE'S CHOICE. 
 
 |ITH voiceless love her sad appeal she made, 
 E'en pleading words to him she did address : 
 
 " Dear heart," she sighed, " true love hath power 
 to bless. 
 
 Till waning stars in far-off azure fade." 
 No quickened pulse his listening heart betrayed, 
 
 Nor changing look the echo did confess 
 
 Of her fond sigh, but from her dear distress 
 
 He captive turned, by earth's dull joys waylaid. 
 A voice divine her fainting steps would guide : 
 
 " True love immortal is ; from star to star 
 
 Of rapturous life two wedded souls may speed ; 
 Infinite Love yet far beyond doth lead. 
 
 And high in Heaven's calm noon its dwellings 
 are. 
 
 " In starry worlds," she said, " I would abide." 
 
SLEEP AND DEATH. 
 
 FT see we in the garish round of day 
 A danger-haunted world for our sad feet, 
 Or fear we tread along the peopled street 
 A homeless path, an unaccompanied way. 
 
 So too the night doth bring its own array 
 
 Of darkling terrors we must singly meet, 
 Each soul apart in its unknown retreat, 
 With life a purposeless, unconscious play. 
 
 But though the day discovers us afraid. 
 
 Unsure of some safe hand to be our guide 
 Rest we at night, as if for each were said, 
 
 " He giveth unto His beloved sleep." 
 
 Nought less than all do we in sleep confide, 
 And death but needs of us a trust as deep. 
 
TO AN ISLAND. 
 
 ISLE ! thou surely wast a mermaid gay, 
 Else, prithee, why those wavy, wanton wiles, 
 Coquetting with the main by beckoning miles 
 Of grassy downs, smooth beach, and tempting 
 bay? 
 
 Anon thou turn'st so bent to flirt alway 
 
 To that stern Triton, whom no charm beguiles, 
 But roarings loud returns for thy false smiles, 
 And woeful wrecks along thy coast doth lay. 
 
 A band of pearl-like lakes thy beauteous zone ; 
 
 But neither flowers nor fruitful vines thy crown, 
 Nor trees for pairing birds, nor dewy shade 
 
 Where browsing kine repose. One home alone 
 
 Thy bounds enclose, and all thy shores adown, 
 Illusive, fruitless, tempest-tost are made. 
 
A FAIR SYMPHONY. 
 
 To E. C. W. 
 
 OW sweet, when sound accords with sound so 
 well, 
 
 One finds them wrought into a tuneful chain, 
 A symphony that circles in the brain, 
 And winds about the heart a magic spell ; 
 
 And entering too the spirit's voiceless cell, 
 Wakes unexpectant there an answering strain. 
 As when, struck by the breeze's soft refrain. 
 Strings move that music else would never swell ! 
 
 Such harmony thy presence brings to me. 
 Gifts with a voice the unaccustomed word, 
 And tunes my soul to thy sweet mystery. 
 
 I questioned this and guessed the charm divine ; 
 A unity of word and deed is thine, 
 And beauty links them aye in many a chord. 
 
BY-GONES. 
 
 EE, where a gossamer nets all the grass 
 Invisibly ; such skill of winged threads, 
 That slender lines abroad are cast, and pass 
 
 From leaf to leaf; while thus a tangle weds, 
 Quickly as in a mystery, plant to plant, 
 Awaking morn the tissue soon o'erspreads 
 
 With sphered light. Its gentle visitant, 
 
 The wind, breaks not the intermingled chain, 
 
 Nor yet its hold the ruder showers displant. 
 
 Smce then, if these their wilful might restrain, 
 To spare th' etherial thing, how rough the feet, 
 That with their hasty steps of cold disdain 
 
 Brush ruthlessly the gemmy tracery sweet 
 Away from clinging stems, that it afar 
 Is blown to some unsearchable retreat, 
 
IDYLLS AND POEMS- 75 
 
 Or gone, perchance, as airy nothings are, 
 Or viewless sympathies that bind us soul 
 To soul, which the rough world is fain to mar ! 
 
 Where borne are such dear shreds ? To any goal ? 
 
THE VISION. 
 
 LOW wanes the hour that brings the day to 
 night, 
 
 And far the love that makes a long delay; 
 Quick beats the heart that nears a cruel plight, 
 
 And light the step that leads a maid astray. 
 She sleeps, so sweet the shade, all ill unseen ; 
 She sleeps nor knows the helpful night from day. 
 
 A widening world doth sadly intervene 
 
 Between the lady and her heart's true stay ; 
 
 Nor piteous looks nor words can pierce the screen. 
 
 Still on the stealthy lover comes alway ; 
 She sleeps despite the bale, despite the strain. 
 Sleeps — sleeps — nor knows the helpful night from 
 day. 
 
IDYLLS AND POEMS. 77 
 
 Leaves now her soul its wearied home of pain, 
 And to a dear famihar spot it flits ; 
 It Cometh not nor enters there in vain. 
 
 Within a window bay her true love sits ; 
 
 He bends on her his stern and sorrowed eyes, 
 
 Nor more — her heart no further wrong commits. 
 
 Yet he the mission strange did ne'er surmise ; 
 For 'twas his inmost self, in angel-wise. 
 
THE FOG BELL. 
 
 EAR not the cloud-tent of the sky ; 
 The gloom that blinds the starless eye, 
 
 The mist that dares yon light defy, 
 
 Fear not, fear not, for all is well. 
 Dash thy rude waves upon the shore, 
 Vain Ocean ; vent thy vengeless roar, 
 With night and danger darkened o'er, 
 
 When Nobska wakes her watchful, bell. 
 
 Hark now where comes a piping note 
 No sound from any mortal throat. 
 No horn on fabled lips remote ; 
 
 Fear not, fear not, for all is well. 
 The Genius of the earth is there — 
 Water and fire and plying air, 
 Inventive thought and human care — 
 
 And speaks to Nobska's watchful bell. 
 
TO A SUMMER FLEET. 
 
 YE ! that plough the fenceless sea, 
 Nor reap of its fertility, 
 And leave its fields of furrows free, 
 
 Ye ships in shadow and light displayed 
 
 Dearer to me the portioned land, 
 The toil beneath a hard command, 
 And ruin e'en by human hand, 
 
 O ships, in shadow and light that fade. 
 
A SONG OF SORROW. 
 
 AINT were the songs I sang you Christmas 
 morn 
 
 Amid the blast; 
 No more from me melodious carols rose, 
 As in the past. 
 
 The merry chimes, that rang the New Year in, 
 
 Mute have now grown ; 
 No cords responsive to the joyous peal 
 
 Prolong the tone. 
 
 The frosty earth hangs in an ebon vault, 
 
 Wild is the night. 
 The blinding storm blots out the beacon stars ; 
 
 I grope for light. 
 
 Moves then the sun athwart the nether gloom, 
 
 Bringing the day ? 
 Perchance his chariot wheels are clogged with clouds 
 
 That block the way. 
 
IDYLLS AND POEMS. 8 1 
 
 My stricken soul breaks out in plaintive moan : 
 " Come, Death! " — I cry. 
 
 " Not Death, but Life," a sweet and piteous voice 
 Gives me reply. 
 
 " Dear heart, the sighs that wing thy bruised soul 
 
 Are more than song ; 
 The sigh, the tear, the suppliant knee are boons, 
 
 For which I long. 
 
 I guide the storm and walk the vengeful wave, 
 
 That these may be. 
 Breaks now the dawn along the eastern sky ; 
 
 Rest thou in me ! " 
 
ROUNDELAYS AND VERSES 
 
 ADDRESSED TO 
 
 YOUNG FRIENDS. 
 
A LOVER'S LADDER. 
 
 ARGUMENT. 
 
 He evokes Love : 
 
 I. Rondeau : " Awake sweet Love." 
 
 Love arises. 
 
 IL Rondel : " When love is in her eyes." 
 
 He Clowns his love. 
 
 in. Rondeau : " All fruits of Spring." 
 
 He tells how she excels. 
 
 IV. Song : " No tones of any tuneful bird." 
 
 He tells how through her he conquers. 
 
 V. Rondel : " No Siren couched in flowers." 
 
 The Union. 
 
 VI. Song : " O ! could I with my true love float.' 
 
I. RONDEAU. 
 
 |WAKE, sweet Love, and with the Spring, 
 
 Thy bandaged eyes uncovering, 
 Deck thou thyself in charms anew ; 
 Thy pinions take their fairest hue, 
 And with thee joys in plenty bring, 
 
 But not of cruel darts a string. 
 Whose barbs are tipped with direful sting ; 
 From beds of heart's ease gemmed with dew. 
 Awake sweet Love ! 
 
 Be not of covert arts the king. 
 Nor sport thou more on restless wing, 
 That maids may be forever true, 
 And youths their homage brave renew, 
 And hail thee with the flowering, 
 
 Awake sweet Love ! 
 
II. RONDEL. 
 
 ^HEN love is in her eyes, 
 
 J What need of Spring for me ? 
 
 A brighter emerald lies 
 On hill and vale and lea. 
 
 The azure of the skies 
 
 Holds nought so sweet to see , 
 
 When love is in her eyes, 
 
 What need of Spring for me ? 
 
 Her bloom the rose outvies, 
 The lily dares no plea, 
 
 The violet's glory dies, 
 
 No flower so sweet can be ; 
 
 When love is in her eyes, 
 
 What need of Spring for me ? 
 
III. RONDEAU. 
 
 LL fruits of Spring, obey my call ! 
 
 My love, your Queen, is on her throne. 
 Bring crown of flowers with dew o'er all, 
 
 Roses and lilies freshly blown, 
 And at her beauteous feet pour down, 
 
 All fruits of Spring ! 
 
 No icy blast let her appal ; 
 
 Bid zephyrs, that are yours alone, 
 To waft her on, while I, her thrall, 
 
 Scatter what wilding weeds I own, 
 A few poor rhymes, where now ye're thrown. 
 All fruits of Spring ! 
 
IV. SONG. 
 
 tones of any tuneful bird 
 
 Can with my love's sweet voice compare ; 
 
 ^olian notes would be unheard, 
 If they to vie with it should dare. 
 
 Her eyes are surely liquid blue ; 
 
 They change with every passing thought ; 
 No star on high nor gem of dew 
 
 Such beams as hers have hither brought. 
 
 She is so deftly shaped, so light, 
 
 Her step would never crush a flower ; 
 
 She could outdo the Aphrodite, 
 
 Were crested wave her native bower. 
 
 Her soul pellucid is and true ; 
 
 It shines in every deed and word. 
 I see the maiden Eve anew, 
 
 Before she had the serpent heard. 
 
ID YLLS AND POEMS. 89 
 
 All charms, all beauties hath my love ; 
 
 My heart doth sing her every grace ; 
 Though my dull pen devoutly strove, 
 
 It could but her fair shadow trace. 
 
 Accept this tribute then, SAveet heart! 
 
 The song I bring, the song withheld, 
 Were they not rudely kept apart, 
 
 All poets hence would be excelled. 
 
V. RONDEL. 
 
 HO Siren couched in flowers, 
 That wise Odysseus braved, 
 Could lure me to her bowers, 
 
 Were jewels there impaved ; 
 Thou on my heart hast graved 
 
 A love all love o'erpowers, 
 No Siren couched in flowers. 
 That wise Odysseus braved. 
 
 He, bound with cords for hours, 
 
 Had bonds more strong then craved ; 
 
 But me thou wouldst have saved 
 From all her magic powers, 
 
 No Siren couched in flowers, 
 
 That wise Odysseus braved. 
 
VI. SONG. 
 
 COULD I with my true love float 
 Upon a magic river, 
 Embarking in a winged boat 
 We'd sail forever, ever. 
 
 ■This busy world I'd leave behind, 
 
 Spinning in crystal azure ; 
 In quite another sky we'd find 
 
 A nebulous sweet leisure. 
 
 Tis said the way is strewn with stars, 
 
 That one may pick at pleasure ; 
 I'd set them in some golden bars. 
 As jewels for my treasure ; 
 
 For her I'd seize an opal cloud, 
 And weave a robe of splendor ; 
 
 The sun, abashed, were fain to shroud 
 His beams, and then surrender. 
 
92 IDYLLS AND POEMS. 
 
 I'd skirt the walls of Paradise ; 
 
 The angels would look over, 
 But at the sight of her rare guise, 
 
 Their breath they'd scarce recover. 
 
 They'd fly to ope the golden gates 
 Hoping that she might enter. 
 
 " Ah ! no," I'd say, " far journey waits ; 
 We sail forever, ever." 
 
RONDEAU. 
 
 E foolish waves, why now so gay ? 
 Whither take ye your dancing way ? 
 Your rhythmic pace times with ray oar ; 
 Perchance a nymph has gone ashore, 
 Or Galatea tempts your play. 
 
 Now Galatea, sad to say, 
 A giant witched the live-long day ; 
 For you she may have worse in store, 
 Ye foolish waves ! 
 
 How now ? 'tis plain we but obey 
 A common spell ; I see yon spray 
 
 Just kiss her feet upon the shore ; 
 
 It is the goddess I adore. 
 I will outrun you ; haste away, 
 
 Ye foolish waves. 
 
RONDEL. 
 
 H ! wherefore shouldst thou Circe be, 
 Where never plant of moly grew, 
 Amid rich cates and honey dew ? 
 
 Such ills were ours by thy decree, 
 That we like victims fled from thee. 
 
 Ah ! wherefore shouldst thou Circe be, 
 Where never plant of moly grew ? 
 
 Extend to us then tender rue. 
 
 And from enchantment set us free ; 
 
 Give us quick wit and girlish glee, 
 But never aught of evil brew ; 
 
 Ah ! wherefore shouldst thou Circe be, 
 Where never plant of moly grew ? 
 
RONDEAU. 
 
 TO ROSAMOND. 
 
 »; wji RT thou coquette already made 
 
 In thy two years 7 May I evade 
 The mischief of those laughing eyes, 
 When soft caress precedes surprise 
 Of sudden trick or plot well laid ! 
 
 What now, what now, thou fairest maid ? 
 I see a bow and pin displayed; 
 And brimful of some new device 
 
 Art thou, Coquette ? 
 
 She puts a bow, with such sweet guise, 
 
 Upon me where it beautifies, 
 I ne'er suspect the pin inlaid. 
 Where pin were pain. A saucy jade, 
 
 To pin a beau in any wise. 
 
 Art thou Coquette. 
 
A RONDEAU. 
 
 O free to come, so fleet to go, 
 
 Is friendship armed with Cupid's bow ; 
 For weapons none should friendship bear 
 Except a shield, and eke a spear 
 To use upon a common foe. 
 
 But Cupid's darts dost thou not know 
 Against a friend thou shouldst not throw ? 
 With every one thou find'st a snare 
 
 So free to come. 
 
 So of such tools I pray beware, 
 
 Lest thou thy friend shouldst quickly scare. 
 For know thou mayst not strike as low 
 As Cupid when he aims his blow, 
 
 On wing so light, so debonair. 
 
 So free to come. 
 
TO M. L. S. 
 
 l^^lTAR of the sea," " Myrrh of the sea," 
 l^^l Thus they the ancient " Mary " knew. 
 Sweet names with sweetest things agree ; 
 Thou prov'st, dear maid, this saying true. 
 
 TO 
 
 FOR J. F. B. 
 
 OME maids are fair and some are wise, 
 And some are full of feeling, 
 
 But there belongs to thy soft eyes 
 The angelic art of healing. 
 
 Deign then to turn this way their power 
 And follow their sweet leading ; 
 
 For here's a Bush that bears the flower 
 Alas ! of " I ove lies bleeding." 
 
TO SARAH. 
 
 A VALENTINE. 
 
 jft'^^jAIR princess of the hillside street, 
 iii^tel That hateful walls conceal, 
 The stones are weary of my feet, 
 Where I a j^y would steal : 
 
 A joy to see thy radiant eyes 
 Displace the curtained glass ; 
 
 A joy to watch, in dark disguise, 
 Thy lagging beauty pass. 
 
 O ! would some danger threatened thee, 
 Where home and friends were not ; 
 
 And I by this might only be 
 Thy peril's counterplot ! 
 
IDYLLS AND FOEMS. 99 
 
 How swiftly wert thou saved, sweet heart ! 
 
 How held as ne'er before ! 
 E'en though by this the hidden dart 
 
 Of love pierced me the more. 
 
 For ah ! a luckless stranger I, 
 
 Unworthy of thy state ; 
 I dare not ask a sweet reply, 
 
 To cheer my lonely fate. 
 
 No other love my heart can gauge, 
 
 If never blest by thine ; 
 Nor other joy the grief assuage 
 
 Of thy sad Valentine. 
 
TO J. F. B. 
 
 A VALENTINE. 
 
 MERMAID sad 
 Am I, bereft of every joy. 
 O ! I were glad, 
 Hadst thou ne'er been, thou heartless boy, 
 Who didst my tender hopes destroy. 
 
 Yet sweet the tryst, 
 When light replies to light and waves 
 
 By moons are kist; 
 Thine oar the swirling sea outbraves. 
 To bear me to my island caves. 
 
 Alas ! one eve. 
 As thy swift keel yon silvery bay 
 
 Did lightly cleave. 
 Two forms I saw thy boat convey, 
 Thee, and one bright in her array. 
 
IDYLLS AND POEMS. lOI 
 
 Ah me ! I sank 
 Down, down under the moonless sea ; 
 
 'Mid caverns dank 
 I sit in weeds and weep for thee, 
 And there forever more shall be 
 
 Coralinda. 
 Off Naushon. 
 
THE BARD'S LAMENT. 
 
 'jS^lIS said, that ere the Muses came, 
 \M^\ There dwelt on earth a voiceless band, 
 Who afterwards were so aflame, 
 
 Song kindled thence throughout the land : 
 " O ! never will we toilers be, 
 But singers of sweet poesie." 
 
 They sang and sang and ever sang ; 
 
 They would not drink, still less would eat, 
 Nor cared they for a hungry pang, 
 
 On song alone their souls were set ; 
 No toilers would they ever be. 
 But singers of sweet poesie. 
 
ID YLLS AND POEMS. 103 
 
 How sad that e'en in times of old, 
 
 Those dear yEolic times we praise, 
 Such bards might not, however bold. 
 
 Live merely on a tuneful phrase, 
 That so they might not toilers be, 
 But singers of sweet poesie. 
 
 But thus it fared and soon they died. 
 
 They could not live on song alone; 
 They would no other food provide. 
 
 In some supernal home unknown ; 
 Not toilers might they need to be, 
 But singers of sweet poesie. 
 
 Alack ! alas ! not long their stay. 
 
 Back to the earth were they returned • 
 As grasshoppers they made their way 
 
 By earth and heaven ungently spurned 
 Are they who ne'er will toilers be, 
 But singers aye of poesie.