m 
 
 PS 
 
 wm& 
 
V 
 
TH 
 LEGEND 
 
 OF 
 AVLV! 
 
 v <" w ^^y 
 

 Copyright, 1895 
 
 BY 
 
 William Doxey 
 
 Thb Murdock Press 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 The Legend of Aulus 1 
 
 Ballades, Sonnets, and Other Verses — 
 
 Wake Not the Gods 43 
 
 Ballade of Charity 44 
 
 The Famine in Russia 46 
 
 Westminster Abbey 47 
 
 The Unattainable 48 
 
 Booth in Hamlet 49 
 
 Ballade of Memory 50 
 
 Ballade of the Dark Hour 52 
 
 Ballade of Death 54 
 
 Mnemosyne 56 
 
 A Greeting 57 
 
 The Cholera 58 
 
 Two Songs 60 
 
 The Isle of Skye 62 
 
 Gustave Dore 64 
 
 The Violin 65 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Ballades, Sonnets, and Other Verses — 
 
 California 66 
 
 Autumn 67 
 
 Jackson's Last Words 68 
 
 Enchanted Ground 70 
 
 In Extremis 72 
 
 Robert Louis Stevenson 74 
 
 Forget Me Not 77 
 
 A Reminiscence 78 
 
 The Singers 80 
 
 Memoria Sacra 82 
 
 A Message 84 
 
 The Years 86 
 
 On the Death of a Cat 87 
 
 Evening 90 
 
 In the Night 92 
 
 The Heavenly City 93 
 
 A Fragment 94 
 
 Vale atque Vale 95 
 
THE LEGEND OF AULUS. 
 
NOTE. 
 
 The original sketch of "The Legend of Aulus" 
 may be found in the "Gesta Romanorum." 
 
THE LEGEND OF AITLUS. 
 
 I. 
 
 Hidden amid the Apennines, there lies 
 A lake unfathomable, deep-shelving, dark. 
 Strange stories cling about the place, and fill 
 The very air with mystery and dread ; 
 And often, when on long black winter nights 
 The peasant tells them to his huddling brood, 
 The children shudder at the shadows cast 
 By the unsteady firelight on the wall, 
 The women drop their spinning in affright, 
 And cross themselves and call on all the saints. 
 
 I, lingering late among these barren hills, 
 Saw such a scene and heard this story told : 
 
2 THE LEGEND OF AULUS. 
 
 Centuries since a law was made in Rome, 
 Enacting that no citizen should wed 
 The maiden of his choice unless he stood 
 Prepared to dower her with gold or lands 
 Of value equal to her own estate. 
 An evil law it was, but so enforced, 
 So straitly bound by form and precedent, 
 That none, or few, its harsh requirements broke; 
 Sorrow it wrought and bitterness extreme. 
 
 In those dim days upon the Aventine Mount 
 An ancient mansion reared its noble front; 
 Built of the famous marble which endures 
 The slow-corroding years, the earthquake shock, 
 Its white walls gleamed beneath the fervid sky, 
 Towering in grandeur o'er the roofs of Rome. 
 
 One autumn eve upon its battlements 
 
 A lady leaned and watched the sun's decline, 
 
 Nor watched alone, for by her stood a knight, 
 
THE LEGEND OF AULUS. 6 
 
 Equipped as for the field, in mail complete; 
 A soldier he of the Praetorian Guard, 
 And near the person of the Emperor, 
 But landless, with no fortune save his sword. 
 
 Long time they stood and marked the increas- 
 ing night 
 Shadow the hills and darken o'er the plain, 
 But little said, until the stars awoke, 
 And in the sky their feeble lanterns lit; 
 When, downward looking on her face, the knight 
 Saw tears thereon, which, furtive, she concealed, 
 And sudden cried, "What, my Faveria, tears, — 
 Tears on this night — and I so new returned, 
 And after so long absence? — but, perchance, 
 By these disparted years thy faith is strained 
 Nigh even to breaking, and thy heart, I fear, 
 Is now to one more fortunate resigned. 
 
 If this be so " "Nay, Aulus, all my care 
 
 Is only thee to please and thee to love, 
 
4: THE LEGEND OF AULUS. 
 
 And, for these foolish drops, dismiss them quite, 
 Or think them but a moment's fantasy, 
 A passing whim, for often women weep." 
 
 ' 'Pardon, Faveria, pardon these my words, 
 
 Hasty and choleric as my nature is; 
 
 To lose you death, far worse your faith to 
 
 doubt, — 
 For jealous doubt is a tormenting fire 
 Which eats the heart. Of this no more — and 
 
 now, 
 I prithee let me wipe the traitor stains 
 That cloud the brightness of these dearest eyes, 
 My lode-stars through the desert of this world. 
 Yet, in good sooth, it passe th all belief 
 That you, who are so young, exceeding fair, 
 Of so great name, and all too richly dowered 
 Should ever sigh or waste a weary hour." 
 
 "Little it profits to be rich and fair; 
 
 My wealth it is betwixt us two that stands, 
 
THE LEGEND OF AULUS. O 
 
 And for my fairness — Dido's face was fair, 
 Yet could she not iEneas long retain. 
 Beauty in woman is an April day, 
 Mere streaks of sunshine through the clouds 
 
 that rift; 
 In youth adored, when time our charm hath 
 
 marred, 
 Slight is the homage to our virtues paid. 
 In heat of battle men their cares forget, 
 Or on the Forum, or in council grave, 
 But women sit alone within the house, 
 And idly o'er the inevitable brood. 
 We smile upon the splendor of the rose, 
 Nor see the canker in its heart that grows." 
 
 Then Aulus: "Much, Faveria, have I dwelt 
 On this, our mutual unhappy strait, 
 And in the night when all my comrades slept, 
 Have I, uneasy, paced the camp about, 
 Nor found an answer to my questioning, 
 
b THE LEGEND OF AULUS. 
 
 Save one, — but no, this black, accursed deed 
 
 Be far from me " 
 
 "Nay, Aulus, voice thy thought; 
 What thou canst bear to think, thy lips can 
 
 speak." 
 And answer made the knight in broken words: 
 "A new decree the Emperor hath passed — 
 
 Thereof thou art informed?" 
 
 " Of such a law 
 
 A rumor vague and unconfirmed is all 
 
 The talk of Rome." 
 
 "Then know that Constantine 
 
 Disbanded hath the old Praetorian Guard. 
 
 Our cohorts, through the empire all dispersed, 
 
 By this disunion lose their primal strength, 
 
 And to the throne cease to be dangerous. 
 
 This edict yet more closely sets the bars 
 
 Which now asunder hold us. There remains 
 
 One way, and one alone, whereby our hands 
 
THE LEGEND OF AULUS. 7 
 
 Forever may be joined " 
 
 "Aulus, my lord, 
 Make swift thy speech till all thy tale be told." 
 
 " Far to the northward in the Apennines, 
 
 Dwelleth Hortensius, my next of kin; 
 
 Great is his wealth, — yea, greater than thine 
 
 own. 
 Blind from his birth, in solitude he lives, 
 The castle scantly guarded. All the place 
 To me is known, for oft its hollow courts 
 Have I with boyish laughter heedless filled, 
 And with the step of active youth explored 
 Each crumbling stair and dim, remote recess. 
 Thither 'tis in my purpose to repair, 
 And secret in the night his soul dispatch, 
 My horse regain and rapid spur to Rome, 
 
 All unsuspect " 
 
 "A murder! hear, ye gods! 
 To take his life who naught hath injured thee, 
 
8 THE LEGEND OF AULUS. 
 
 Nor in fair fight, but while he helpless lies — 
 O most intolerable and bloody thought ! — 
 My curses on the hand that framed this law! " 
 
 "Then fare-thee-well, Faveria; here and now 
 Dear is thy love; thine honor so more dear 
 That never shall the slime of slander trail 
 Across its sacred whiteness, and if death 
 Do claim me on the field, — right welcome he." 
 
 " To-night we part? " 
 
 "I go this very hour." 
 "And thou canst leave me lonely in this world — 
 Alone I am; in blankness stretch the years 
 Where thou art not; but — hold, were this man 
 
 dead 
 To part no need?" 
 
 "I wait upon thy word." 
 "Together we might live, together share 
 The round of life, its common bliss and pain; 
 
THE LEGEND OF AULUS. 9 
 
 The coming death together we might meet, 
 Smile at his harmless shaft and know content. 
 Enough — 'tis ended; count the deed as done. 
 To rush us to our doom the Fates conspire. 
 But be thou merciful; make sure thy hand, 
 And give his soul a speedy taking-off." 
 
 "Thou speakest to the tenor of my will, 
 And now my purpose is determinate. 
 But look, beloved, how the conquering day 
 Against the blackness of the night prevails; 
 I must be gone, and swiftly, nor do thou 
 With o'er much thinking knit the troubled 
 brow." 
 
 He spoke and passed; she, backward gazing 
 
 there, 
 A moveless, breathless statue of despair. 
 
10 THE LEGEND OF AULUS. 
 
 II. 
 
 The birds their waking music trilled, 
 The sky with early light was filled, 
 As Aulus seized his horse's rein 
 And vaulted to his seat again. 
 The sleeping streets, as on he sped, 
 Echoed beneath his horse's tread. 
 A moment on the bank he stood 
 Where sacred Tiber pours his flood, 
 Then past the hill Capitoline, — 
 Once of Tarpeian Jove the shrine, — 
 And by the old Nomentane Way, 
 He reached the camp at height of day, 
 And saw the Labarum unfold 
 Its veil of purple and of gold. 
 
 The troops by the Praetorium 
 Are massed, and slow the Augurs come, 
 Portentous, grave, and knowing well 
 By signs the future to foretell. 
 
THE LEGEND OF AULIJS. 11 
 
 Eager they scan the devious flight 
 Of birds uncertain. To the right 
 They circling wheel — propitious sign, — 
 The gods appeased on mortals shine. 
 The soldiers cheer; dismissed, they pass 
 The idle hour with song and glass. 
 But Aulus to the tribune's tent 
 Hasted, and gained his chief's consent 
 To furlough brief ; and ere the day 
 Had glided o'er the hills away, 
 Beneath the ancient gate he strode, 
 Which guards the great Flaminian road. 
 Swift was his courser's pace; he passed 
 Pons Milvius, and saw at last 
 Between him and the evening sky 
 The desolate Campagna lie. 
 
 For five long days he onward took 
 His lonely way, with scarce a look 
 On hill, or wood, or castled mound. 
 Yet where could fairer scenes be found ? 
 
12 THE LEGEND OF AULUS. 
 
 For royal Tiber, rolling free 
 
 His murky waters to the sea, 
 
 Companioned him for mile on mile, 
 
 By vale, and cliff, and dark defile; 
 
 And oaks, with leaves of evergreen, 
 
 About his pathway wove their screen; 
 
 Where groves of box and alder were, 
 
 The clematis its glory there 
 
 Now careless trailed upon the ground, 
 
 Now massed some hoary trunk around; 
 
 The broom a passing perfume lent 
 
 To each faint breeze that wandering went, 
 
 And, over all, the burning blue 
 
 Of heaven its airy archway threw. 
 
 At Interamna short his stay; 
 Leaving the broad Flaminian Way, 
 He rode beneath the scented pines 
 That skirt the lower Apennines, 
 And sought a bridle track that led 
 Beside a mountain torrent's bed. 
 
THE LEGEND OF AULUS. 13 
 
 So difficult the steep ascent, 
 
 He reached the top with forces spent, 
 
 And flung him on the mosses brown, 
 
 And heard the water foaming down. 
 
 But night was closing o'er the scene, 
 
 And hill and valley stretched between, 
 
 Although but half a league away 
 
 The dwelling of his fathers lay. 
 
 Beneath a tree he tied his horse, 
 
 And wearily pursued his course. 
 
 At first the path he scarce could find, 
 
 With brier and bramble intertwined; 
 
 The sky with clouds was overspread, 
 
 Chill blew the wind about his head; 
 
 The thunder crashed, the tempest lowered, 
 
 And from the lightning flash he cowered. 
 
 Upon a cliff the castle stood, 
 Fit to defy the storm and flood. 
 High on the rugged height 
 
14 THE LEGEND OF AULUS. 
 
 Its walls arose, the dwelling-place 
 
 For ages of a warrior race 
 
 Who drank of battle and the chase 
 
 The keen and wild delight. 
 Their ashes in sepulchral urns, 
 
 Drenched with the wine of death, 
 Eegardless lie; before them burns 
 
 The taper's flickering breath. 
 Small heed have they of praise or blame, 
 Forgot their glory and their shame. 
 
 A lamp within a window gleamed, 
 
 Its radiance through the darkness streamed; 
 
 There sat Hortensius. 
 Shut from the friendly light, he dwelt 
 In visionary lands, and dealt 
 In lore occult, the nearness felt 
 
 Of forms unseen by us 
 
THE LEGEND OF AULUS. 15 
 
 Wlio know the splendor of the world,— 
 
 The mountain in its dignity, 
 With wreaths of mist about it curled, 
 
 And the far-reaching sea. 
 Bravely he bore his banishment; 
 In dreams he lived, with dreams content. 
 
 As Aulus watched the lighted tower, 
 And waited for the midnight hour, 
 
 His thoughts were dark to tell. 
 These silent halls had many a day 
 Resounded with their youthful play; 
 The children of two brothers, they 
 
 Had loved each other well, 
 Ere years came with resistless change. 
 
 One wandered o'er the earth, 
 The other never cared to range 
 
 Far from his place of birth; 
 But each remembered in his prime 
 The innocent glad morning-time. 
 
16 THE LEGEND OF AULUS. 
 
 Aulus was lost to time and place, 
 When, sudden showering on his face, 
 He felt the heavy raindrops fall, 
 And sought the shelter of the wall. 
 With stealthy search a door he gained 
 By clustering ivy hid, unchained 
 The rusted hasp, and passed to where 
 He might attain the secret stair 
 That to the turret led where slept 
 Hortensius. As soft he crept, 
 He started back at every sound 
 Made on the stairway's crumbling round. 
 
 And now he stands within the room, 
 But vainly strives to pierce the gloom, 
 Till, by the lightning's fitful aid, 
 He sees the couch whereon is laid 
 Hortensius in slumber deep, 
 Unguarded in the castle keep. 
 His head is pillowed on his arm, 
 In vain security from harm, 
 
THE LEGEND OF AULUS. 17 
 
 And some fair thought his dream beguiles; 
 He sleeps, and as he sleeps he smiles. 
 
 With steady stroke the deed was done. 
 One sobbing moan he gave — but one, — 
 A feeble cry, on earth unheard, 
 But angels caught the parting word, — 
 For to the knight's astonished sight, 
 On shining feather, winged its flight 
 A bird that perched upon the bed, 
 And nestled near the dead man's head. 
 Strange visitant in so dread place, 
 And in such hour ! A moment's space 
 It rested there; then, uttering 
 A sweet, strange note, it plumed its wing; 
 Back to the night and dismal rain 
 It passed, and ne'er was seen again. 
 
 Forth from the castle fled the knight, 
 Nor slacked his speed till morning light. 
 
18 THE LEGEND OF AULUS. 
 
 Madly he rode to ease the pain 
 That ached about his heart — in vain. 
 The mountain peaks grew far and dim, 
 But guilt and fear kept pace with him. 
 He grudged the time for rest or food, 
 Till safe within the camp he stood; 
 The curtains of his tent he drew, 
 And soon in sleep oblivion knew. 
 
 Upon the palace roof once more 
 
 The two are met; not as before 
 
 Hand clasped in hand. Ah, piteous change ! 
 
 Guilt and remorse their hearts estrange. 
 
 But love despiseth fear and shame, 
 
 And to his side Faveria came, 
 
 And softly called him by his name. 
 
 Aulus upraised his drooping head, 
 
 And gently to Faveria said, 
 
 "Three heavy weeks have o'er us rolled — 
 
 Would that their tale had ne'er been told! 
 
THE LEGEND OF AULUS. 19 
 
 Of all that passed I may not speak 
 
 To dim your eye and blanch your cheek. 
 
 I sent you by a trusty hand 
 
 A message you could understand, 
 
 And you alone. Hortensius hath 
 
 By me been slain, and now the path 
 
 To you and love is clear; but know 
 
 Could I the deed retract, the blow 
 
 Had ne'er been struck. In battle's rage, 
 
 When men their country's foes engage, 
 
 With furious thrust in equal fight, 
 
 Even then death is a woeful sight. 
 
 How past all pardon is my guilt, 
 
 A friend's — a kinsman's — blood I've spilt! 
 
 My caitiff sword within his heart 
 
 I plunged — a demon winged the dart — 
 
 A painless death and swift he died. 
 
 'T were well with me if by his side 
 
 This night I lay, wrapped in the mould, 
 
 As still, as lifeless, and as cold ! 
 
20 THE LEGEND OF AULUS. 
 
 And now outside the walls of Borne, 
 
 Beneath Saint Paulus' lofty dome, 
 
 His body rests. I followed it 
 
 With needful rites, observance fit; 
 
 And, as the nearest of his kin, 
 
 Beheld it placed the tomb within. 
 
 Slowly the passing bell was tolled, 
 
 The mounting music heavenward rolled; 
 
 In rapturous, triumphant song, 
 
 It swept the sounding nave along; 
 
 Its joyous descant seemed to me 
 
 Of lasting life the prophecy; 
 
 And yet — What dost thou think of death? 
 
 Where speeds the soul with parting breath? 
 
 Can spirits from the leaden urn 
 
 Or from the inclasping grave return?" 
 
 " Countless the vague traditions be, 
 All touched with doubt and mystery, 
 And held by some as fabulous, 
 
THE LEGEND OF AULUS. 21 
 
 Which seem to show that all the tale 
 Is not yet told when still and pale 
 
 We lie, and friends make moan for us. 
 Shadows impalpable may pass 
 Through gates of iron or of brass — 
 But wherefore dost thou question thus?" 
 
 "A legend of our Christian faith 
 There is; or false, or true, it saith 
 
 That upon All Souls' eve, 
 Which at to-morrow's twilight falls, 
 The dead forsake their sombre halls, 
 
 The grave's embraces leave; 
 And on the earth, or in the air, 
 They wait attentive to the prayer 
 
 Made for their souls' repose 
 By holy monks in church or cell. 
 This was my thought: — Were it not well 
 That at the evening's close 
 I to the chapel should repair, 
 
22 THE LEGEND OF AULTJ8. 
 
 To spend the night in vigil there, 
 
 And all that I may learn 
 To thee at dawn with speed relate? — 
 Thereby, perchance, the will of fate 
 
 We clearer may discern." 
 
 "Go thou and watch the night away, 
 And I to all the gods will pray 
 
 For thy desired return. 
 And, now, farewell, for needful sleep 
 Thy body craves, this watch to keep." 
 
 Aulus upon her face, 
 Which shone as fair as spirits shine, 
 Long looked, to grave its every line 
 Upon his heart; then, with brief sign 
 
 Of parting, left the place. 
 Alone upon the palace roof, 
 She heard his horse's clattering hoof 
 Die down the hill, and soon the night 
 Was all transformed beneath the light 
 
THE LEGEND OF AULUS. 23 
 
 Of the great moon that up the sky 
 Swam in her billowing majesty. 
 
 III. 
 
 As Aulus neared the church, he heard the bell 
 For vespers peal from the adjacent tower, 
 And stayed his steps, subdued beneath the 
 spell, 
 The soft enchaining of the evening hour. 
 The dry earth, kissed to freshness by a 
 shower, 
 Was very fair; he looked, and groaned aloud; 
 For him had Nature lost her healing power; 
 The autumn moon, emerging from a cloud, 
 Seemed to his gaze a dead face gleaming from 
 its shroud. 
 
 Of all the great basilicas in Eome, 
 
 Not one more famed than this where now 
 is laid 
 
 
24 THE LEGEND OF AULUS. 
 
 Hortensius, closed within his narrow home; 
 For here St. Paul's long resting-place is 
 
 made; 
 The columned arch, the altar dim-arrayed, 
 The timbered roof, and sculptured architrave, 
 
 The past proclaim, in dignity displayed. 
 And now the bell hath ceased; within the nave 
 The people pass; with them the knight, apart 
 and grave. 
 
 The final Gloria had long been sung, 
 
 But Aulus still before the altar kneeled, 
 And to the priest confessed, with faltering 
 tongue, 
 And his intent to watch that night revealed. 
 Silent the holy father heard, unsealed 
 The wrath of heaven, and penance dire 
 imposed, 
 And his assent unwillingly did yield, 
 
THE LEGEND OF AULUS. 25 
 
 Then slow the chapel left. The door was 
 closed. 
 Alone the knight remained with those who 
 there reposed. 
 
 Hour after hour fled on. The silences 
 Of night, more dreadful than its sounds, 
 he heard, 
 And was aware of ghostly presences, 
 
 That, flitting by, the air about him stirred. 
 
 But no hand touched him, nor did any word 
 
 The stillness break. His vigil grew apace. 
 
 At midnight came a rush of wings that 
 
 whirred 
 
 Rapid and ceased; — a light, and lo! the face 
 
 Of dead Hortensius, lit by a resplendent grace. 
 
 A lucent angel held him by the hand, 
 
 And to the trembling knight these words 
 addrest: 
 
26 THE LEGEND OF AULUS. 
 
 "Hear thou the will of God, by whose com- 
 mand 
 Have I this night to Hades passed, to wrest 
 This soul from its confines, and with the 
 blest 
 On high to seat him. Now his joys begin. 
 
 Thy doom attend; — by the Divine behest 
 To thee are granted thrice ten years wherein 
 His pardon thou mayst seek who can forgive 
 thy sin. ,, 
 
 Swift as a flash of light, the twain were gone, 
 And Aulus gazed into the gloom profound, 
 And cast himself the marble floor upon, 
 And prayed for death, and sank into a 
 
 swound. 
 Him thus the priest at early morning found, 
 And with his cares revived. Free from that 
 hall, 
 How pure the dawn, what music in each 
 sound ! 
 
THE LEGEND OF AULUS. 27 
 
 He was as one escaping from a pall. 
 Straight to Faveria he passed, and told her all. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Upon her white hand leaning her gold head, 
 The tale Faveria heard, then, soft, she said: 
 
 "Aulus, my lord, no man upon this earth 
 
 Of his own will had e'er been brought to birth; 
 
 For who would choose some doubtful years to 
 
 live 
 Where pain abides and joy is fugitive ? 
 Great are our sorrows, and our pleasures small; 
 Nor know we when the fatal stroke may fall; 
 The very trees have longer date than we, 
 The birds more happy, and the beasts more free; 
 And when Mercurius shuts the door on us, 
 And on our white lips lies the obolus, 
 The scene is closed, nor can we surely know 
 If to Elysium or the Shades we go. 
 
28 THE LEGEND OF AULUS. 
 
 But the high gods have given to mortals love, 
 With all the bitter and the sweet thereof; 
 Therefore I do accept these thirty years, 
 And, since I love thee, banish idle fears. * 
 Here is my hand, I pledge thee fealty — 
 Yea, by the head of Jove, I swear to thee." 
 
 Low bent the knight and kissed his lady's hand, 
 With whispered words that lovers understand, 
 And silence was between them for a space, 
 Until Faveria looking on his face 
 Beheld it troubled. " Why so sad, my lord? " 
 She murmured with caressing in each word. 
 "Not sad, Faveria," replied the knight, 
 "When you are by me sadness taketh flight; 
 But when I pass beyond your beauty's sway, 
 I dread the night and fear the coming day, 
 For I believe (such is the Christian creed) 
 That vengeance follows on an evil deed. 
 
THE LEGEND OF AULUS. 29 
 
 A heavy penance yet remains to dree 
 Ere from the stain of blood this hand is free; 
 E'en then most hardly I my soul shall save, 
 And terror shrouds the gulf beyond the grave." 
 
 Abrupt he paused, — Faveria answered low, 
 "Of this new worship little do I know, 
 For I in early youth to Gaul was sent, 
 Whither my father with his legion went; 
 In secret there he kept the ancient faith, 
 And vowed me to it with his latest breath. 
 But for this Christus whom you tell me of 
 With his strange emblems of the fish and dove, 
 If he, indeed, his majesty resigned, 
 And suffered on the cross for all mankind, 
 And bent his back beneath the scourger's rod, 
 Bethink thee — he must be a gentle god. 
 Make thou lustration due before his shrine, 
 Consult the omens and thy fate divine." 
 
30 THE LEGEND OF AULUS. 
 
 "A useless task, for no such sacrifice," 
 Said Aulus, "may find favor in his eyes; 
 He asks alone a pure and contrite heart, 
 And wills that men from evil shall depart; 
 For he who highest heaven would hope to win 
 Must purge his conscience and abjure his sin. 
 But all these matters are for you too deep, — 
 Your eyes are heavy, — go, my love, and sleep. 
 Since you are willing o'er this heart to reign, 
 These shadows shall not long disturb my brain. 
 Perish the past — a new life hath begun — 
 Our faiths may differ but our hearts are one. 
 This night I go the castle to prepare, 
 Ne'er 'neath its lintel borne, a bride so fair." 
 
 Ere the next silver moon its light had shed, 
 All was accomplished and the twain were wed. 
 
THE LEGEND OF AULUS. 31 
 
 With light the castle shines; its windows blaze 
 Like jewels, in the dark. A festal night 
 Is this when Aulus welcomes back his son 
 From distant wars. Where'er the eagle flew 
 His steps had followed. Now in triumph come 
 The legions home. Janus his gates hath closed; 
 Peace rules the Eoman world; the peoples rest. 
 
 In the triclinium the feast is spread, 
 
 Whose floor of rich mosaic fitly blent 
 
 Upholds the ivory couches gold inlaid, 
 
 Or curious carven of the tortoise shell. 
 
 The men recline; graceful the women lean 
 
 On silken pillows soft as woven wind. 
 
 The dice are cast and Lucius wins the throw, 
 
 And to the seat of honor Aulus leads 
 
 His only son; well pleased the mother smiles. 
 
 Now slaves approach laden with dewy crowns 
 
 Of freshest roses; these the guests adjust; 
 
32 THE LEGEND OF AULUS. 
 
 A distant music sounds, the feast begins, 
 And all is laughter, jest, and quick reply. 
 
 Upon Faveria's brow a shadow lies; 
 Frequent her smile and seeming gay her mien, — 
 But seeming only, for 't is All-Souls' Eve, 
 And thirty years have noiseless winged away, 
 Too happy to be noted in their flight. 
 Now she remembers slain Hortensius, 
 The midnight vigil and the angel's words, 
 Veiled, yet foreshadowing mysterious woe; 
 And vaguely fears yet knows not what she 
 
 fears. 
 For Aulus, while resisting all her wiles 
 To win him back unto the ancient faith, 
 Is to his own become indifferent. 
 The mass he still attends, and due observes 
 All customary rites, but penitence 
 And prayer are little in his thought or deed. 
 With careful glance her husband's face she eyes; 
 
THE LEGEND OF AULUS. 33 
 
 No gloom is there; among his guests he moves, 
 A courteous host, a chivalrous, proud knight, 
 And all her heart goes out to him in love, 
 And she is glad that he remembers not. 
 
 And now the wine is poured. The guests 
 
 arise 
 And drink in silence; to the Thunderer first, 
 And then to all the gods, and to the shades 
 Of heroes dear to every Eoman heart; 
 And toast succeeds to toast and songs are 
 
 heard 
 In sweet accord with the low-breathing lute, 
 When one, more near to Lucius than the rest, 
 His chosen friend and comrade in the wars, 
 Thus cries, "My Lucius, do you still retain 
 The careless measures of the song you made 
 In Africa? Eight jocund did it ring 
 Around our camp-fire in the starry night." 
 And Lucius at his bidding merry sings: 
 
34 THE LEGEND OF AULUS. 
 
 Ho, brothers, while we 're marching 
 
 Throughout the dusty day, 
 With black clouds over-arching, 
 
 And danger by the way, 
 Wine makes our spirit light, 
 And cheers us for the fight; 
 Then pass the flagon gaily, 
 And sing this anthem daily, 
 Hail to the gods, all gods above, 
 The noble gods of wine and love ! 
 
 The night mists round us hover, 
 There 's wailing in the wind — 
 
 The amphoras uncover, 
 The maid we love is kind; 
 
 And since life may not last, 
 
 We make it no long fast, 
 But pass the flagon gaily, 
 And sing this anthem daily, 
 
 Hail to the gods, all gods above, 
 
 The noble gods of wine and love ! 
 
THE LEGEND OF AULUS. 35 
 
 With joyous palm the laughing guests applaud; 
 
 The mother a reproving finger shakes, 
 
 And gently speaks, "My Lucius, for the camp 
 
 Thy strain is fit, but strange in ladies' ears. 
 
 Give now command that the musicians play 
 
 The little simple song I used to sing 
 
 Over thy cradle in the years agone; 
 
 Thy father made it in an earlier day." 
 
 And Lucius waves his hand, the harps prelude 
 
 Upon their silver strings and voices rise: 
 
 u 
 
 O, love is beautiful ere he grows old, 
 
 Full of surprises, gentle and kind ! 
 
 Feathery ashes, a hearth that is cold, 
 
 Stript of disguises, fools, fools and blind! 
 Eheu fugaces, 
 
 Old love, adieu! 
 Time as it passes 
 Parts me and you. 
 
36 THE LEGEND OF AULUS. 
 
 O, love is beautiful when he grows old, 
 
 Tried by distresses, tender, divine, 
 Stronger than iron and purer than gold, 
 Our life he blesses, your life and mine. 
 Eheu fugaces, 
 
 Say not adieu ! 
 Time as it passes 
 Binds me and you. 
 
 The night wears onward to the turning hour. 
 A sudden storm bears downward from the north; 
 Around the house in frantic glee it sweeps, 
 But by the merry throng is scarce remarked. 
 Intent some watch the fortunes of the dice, 
 And other some along the level board 
 The balls of sparkling agate whirling send. 
 At last the players from their curtained seat 
 Intone the solemn movement of a hymn, 
 Austere and sad, befitting well the theme, 
 But in so gay concourse, all unexpect. 
 
THE LEGEND OF AULUS. 37 
 
 Ye direful Fates! Creatures of death and doom! 
 
 Let me no longer plead to you in vain. 
 Reverse the busy, ever-turning loom, 
 
 Wherein is spun my life's entangled skein. 
 
 Weave but a thread of silver in the woof, 
 And leave the warp all dark as now it is, 
 
 Then shall I praise you, and for your behoof 
 Bring golden gifts, disastrous deities. 
 
 Implacable! the dreary voices moan 
 Low, dreadful words of horror and despair: 
 
 Thy fate is fixed, forth shalt thou fare alone, 
 A viewless ghost upon the wandering air. 
 
 Scarcely have died away the closing chords 
 When through the open casement flies a bird 
 Of silken plumage, brown with flecks of gold, 
 And on the breast and wings a purple dye. 
 Dazed by the storm, it circles round the hall, 
 
38 THE LEGEND OF AULUS. 
 
 With never-ceasing cry, unearthly sweet, 
 But sorrowful beyond all human speech. 
 And Aulus sees and knows the bird of fate, 
 For close beside him stands Hortensius, 
 Invisible to all save only him. 
 No darkness on his brow, no wrathful look, 
 But pardon, pity, and enduring love, 
 And on his lips the smile that angels wear. 
 
 Then Aulus, as a reed before the blast 
 Is bent and shaken, bows his head in fear 
 And penitence and bitter late remorse. 
 Clear and insistent rings the warning cry, 
 And summoning the rebel powers of will 
 An upward glance he casts — the Shade hath 
 
 passed. 
 Within his own he takes Faveria's hand, 
 And pointing to the bird, thus to his wife 
 Exclaims, "All 's at an end — the hour of doom 
 Hath struck — the messenger of ill, behold! 
 
THE LEGEND OF AULU8. 39 
 
 Be brave, thou dearest heart." With ready- 
 grasp 
 
 A bow he seizes, that with other arms 
 
 Upon the wall is hung; the arrow fits: 
 
 Upon its helpless prey straight speeds the 
 shaft; 
 
 The tender body fallen to the ground, 
 
 Flutters a wounded wing and then is still. 
 
 Each to the other looks, but scant the time 
 
 For word or look or taking of farewell. 
 
 The mighty rock whereon the castle stands 
 
 Instant apart is rent, and to the black 
 
 Abyss unknown, immeasurable, 
 
 Is flung the ancient house and all that folk. 
 
 Unuttered woe! From the deep heart of 
 earth 
 
 A sluggish water pours, and all is told. 
 
 Of that so joyous band not one remains. 
 
 God rest their souls and give them of his 
 peace ! 
 
40 THE LEGEND OF AULUS. 
 
 Still stands the cliff, and little clinging vines 
 Its creviced sides have broidered all with green; 
 Over its slopes the wild anemone 
 Wanders in color, and the bracken waves, 
 And through its feathery grasses sighs the 
 
 wind; 
 But rare the foot of man, for it is said 
 That upon All-Souls' Eve when spirits tres- 
 passed 
 Do brief to earth return, upon the height 
 Its massive front the castle rears anew, 
 Lights from the windows gleam and music 
 
 floats, 
 And voices send their carol through the night. 
 The infrequent traveler checks his steed to 
 
 gaze, 
 But when he looks again, no castle there, 
 Only the great rock silvered by the moon; 
 Nor any sound is in that solitude 
 Except the sullen plashing of the lake. 
 
BALLADES, SONNETS, AND OTHER 
 VERSES. 
 
WAKE NOT THE GODS. 
 
 Wake not the dreadful gods; we say their sleep 
 Will last unbroken through the centuries; 
 But should we err, assuredly for these 
 
 Our halcyon days we shall be made to reap 
 
 A bitter harvest. Over us shall sweep 
 
 The wrath which no oblation may appease. 
 Since it mislikes them that their slaves should 
 seize 
 
 One hour wherein they may forget to weep. 
 
 For this, for this the gods are envious, — 
 Never for them the unforeseen delight, 
 The uncertain rapture which must have an 
 end, 
 Yet, while it lasts, illumes the world for us, 
 The summer lightning of life's stormy night, 
 When soul draws nigh to soul, and friend 
 meets friend. 
 
 43 
 
BALLADE OF CHAEITY. 
 
 When gentle dames together sit 
 And gossip, as they sometimes will, 
 
 I fear that while they sew and knit 
 And dainty China tea-cups fill, 
 A careless drop or two they spill, 
 
 Less soothing than the rare Bohea, 
 Nor, while they reputations kill, 
 
 Let fall the veil of Charity. 
 
 Success succeeds; we worship it; 
 
 The golden calf we follow still. 
 The man who fails we coldly twit 
 
 With lack of brains and strength and skill, 
 
 And with our mocking glances chill 
 The heart that aches for sympathy. 
 
 Oh, for a drop from Pity's rill! — 
 Let fall the veil of Charity. 
 
 44 
 
BALLADE OF CHARITY. 45 
 
 I have, I frankly must admit, 
 
 A liking for poor Tom or Bill, 
 Who, like myself, get hardly hit, 
 
 In climbing up Life's rugged hill. 
 
 With many a scramble, many a spill. 
 We trudge along in company, 
 
 Upon our mingled good and ill 
 Let fall the veil of Charity. 
 
 ENVOY. 
 
 Princess, my song hath little wit; 
 
 Of thy divine sweet clemency, 
 Upon the words that here are writ 
 
 Let fall the veil of Charity. 
 
THE FAMINE IN KUSSIA. 
 
 Ill shall it be in time to come for those 
 
 Who, careless living 'neath a bounteous sky, 
 Calmly indifferent, can hear the cry 
 
 Of thousands helpless in the mortal throes 
 
 Of desolating hunger. If we chose 
 
 What saving ships across the sea should fly 
 Climbing th' uneasy wave, each day more 
 nigh 
 
 To the sad northern land of steppes and snows. 
 
 Almighty God ! If by a miracle, 
 
 As in old days, thou now shouldst prove thy 
 power 
 And show the exceeding brightness of thy 
 face 
 So long withdrawn — ! With love unspeakable 
 Touch thou men's hearts, and but for one 
 short hour 
 Let mercy all the suffering world embrace. 
 4 6 
 
WESTMINSTER ABBEY. 
 
 From these stained windows what a light is 
 thrown 
 By the descending sun, what tender blues, 
 What passionate purples blend their varied 
 hues 
 
 O'er nave and roof and ancient carven stone ! 
 
 Now there arises the melodious tone 
 Of voices which such harmonies diffuse, 
 As in their harpings heavenly seraphs use; 
 
 And hark, the organ's supplicating moan ! 
 
 Seems it not well that through this wondrous 
 pile, 
 Which guards the ashes of the sons of song, 
 Whose souls have fled to stars beyond our 
 ken, 
 Music should echo on from aisle to aisle, 
 And evermore its cadences prolong 
 
 Throughout the Mecca of all Englishmen ? 
 
 47 
 
THE UNATTAINABLE. 
 
 Dreaming I stand upon a mountain side; 
 Beneath me is a forest, and beyond 
 A marshy plain whose every little pond 
 
 Shines like a shield, for it is evening-tide. 
 
 What farther lies? Do not these dim woods 
 hide 
 A faery place ? For when I most despond, 
 Faint bells I hear, — or is it but my fond 
 
 Vague fancy? — chiming through the forest wide. 
 
 What is beyond the shimmering morass? 
 I may not know, nor whether gods or men 
 Do there inhabit; nor by what strange 
 spell 
 Nightly am I constrained to rise and pass 
 To the weird forest, and the phantom fen, 
 Only to hear, far off, that pleading bell. 
 48 
 
BOOTH IN HAMLET. 
 
 Once in Life's rosy dawn I saw the towers 
 Of Elsinore rise on the pictured scene; 
 The king, the ghost, and the unhappy queen 
 
 I saw, and fair Ophelia with her flowers, 
 
 And heard the slow bell toll the passing hours; 
 But when you entered with dejected mien, 
 The others seemed as though they had not 
 been; 
 
 We wept with Hamlet, for his griefs were ours. 
 
 And here, to-night, amid the listening crowd 
 That hangs upon your lips, I see the flame — 
 The sacred fire nor time nor age can quell, 
 Howe'er the mortal frame be changed and 
 bowed, — 
 Burn clear as the high places whence it came. 
 Pass on, thou royal Dane; hail and fare- 
 well! 
 
 49 
 
BALLADE OF MEMOEY. 
 
 This night my soul shall liberate 
 
 Itself from brooding mists, and fly 
 Where the old dreams and fancies wait 
 
 Beneath a magical fair sky. 
 
 Soft, scented breezes, passing by, 
 Shall lull me into slumber deep, 
 
 And nothing hurtful shall come nigh 
 To rend my heart, to break my sleep. 
 
 One happy dream to compensate 
 
 For grievous years on years ! My cry 
 May reach the gods, my low estate 
 
 From their bright seats they may descry, 
 
 And send a blessed memory 
 Which shall have strength afar to keep 
 
 Sad thoughts that come, I know not why, 
 To rend my heart, to break my sleep. 
 50 
 
BALLADE OF MEMORY. 51 
 
 My soul remains a leaden weight. 
 
 The gods were kinder to deny 
 Our vain desires than grant too late. 
 
 How cold, with what averted eye 
 
 The past returns; it will not die, — 
 Its haunting shades about me creep, 
 
 And miserably sob and sigh, 
 To rend my heart, to break my sleep. 
 
 ENVOY. 
 
 Princess, be warned, nor tempt thy fate, 
 Else shalt thou have full cause to weep, 
 
 When ghostly memories pass thy gate, 
 To rend thy heart, to break thy sleep. 
 
BALLADE OF THE DARK HOUR. 
 
 In happy hours that careless went, 
 
 Through many a bright, unconscious year, 
 With friends whose smiles new gladness lent 
 To youth's sweet morning, dew-besprent, 
 From skies that seemed as crystal clear, 
 
 No warning shade was thrown 
 To prophesy the coming fear 
 Of our dark hour alone. 
 
 Then sorrow came. On us she bent 
 
 Her look; she drew more near. 
 At first we knew not what she meant. 
 "Pass on!" we cried; "you are not sent 
 Life's opening buds to sear. 
 
 Pass on to lands unknown!" 
 Ah me ! she watched the first sad tear 
 Of our dark hour alone. 
 52 
 
BALLADE OF THE DARK HOUR. 53 
 
 Since then she dwells beneath our tent, 
 
 Never to disappear. 
 She only hears when we lament 
 Our hidden griefs and hours misspent, 
 And lost loves on the bier; 
 
 For she at length has grown 
 Into our souls to domineer 
 O'er our dark hour alone. 
 
 ENVOY. 
 
 Prince, of the Present make good cheer, 
 For you her sway shall own, 
 
 Prostrate before her brow austere 
 In your dark hour alone. 
 
BALLADE OF DEATH. 
 
 That we may live our lives at all, 
 The cunning gods have thrown 
 A curtain heavy as a pall, 
 And raised a high dividing wall 
 Before the land unknown 
 Whose bliss none uttereth, 
 To keep each weary, earthworn thrall 
 From the soft arms of death. 
 
 And fears that stoutest hearts appall 
 
 Within man's breast are sown. 
 Life's cup is mingled wine and gall; 
 He hath his days of festival, 
 Which claim him for their own, 
 So his foot tarrieth; 
 He dreads to leave his lighted hall 
 For the soft arms of death. 
 
 54 
 
BALLADE OF DEATH. 55 
 
 The creatures of a day, we crawl 
 
 Each on the earth alone, 
 Eager our brother to forestall, 
 Nor heed the murmur mystical, 
 The ceaseless undertone 
 
 Of that low voice which saifch: 
 'Soon shalt thou leave this idle brawl 
 For the soft arms of death." 
 
 ENVOY. 
 
 Friend, when for me the shade shall fall, 
 
 With my last failing breath 
 My soul to your dear soul shall call 
 
 From the soft arms of death. 
 
MNEMOSYNE. 
 
 Queen of the Muses, I have loved thee well. 
 Still in thy temple, servile, suppliant, 
 Have I besought the shadowy ghosts that 
 haunt 
 
 Thine inmost shrine, petitioned them to tell 
 
 Of the gray past, and all that there befell. 
 Now thy mysterious songs no more enchant, 
 Thy hoarded wisdom is an idle vaunt. 
 
 Have mercy on thy slave — undo the spell! 
 
 The dwellers on the far Olympian heights 
 Have joy in thee, immortal, calm, content, 
 With futile tears their eyes are never wet. 
 But I remember only lost delights, 
 And languish in perpetual banishment 
 From all desired things. Let me forget. 
 
 56 
 
A GREETING. 
 
 Now in Midwinter, see! the buds unfold; 
 
 The yellow poppies open one by one; 
 The mountain streams, bound by no despot cold, 
 
 Flash through the woods, rejoicing as they 
 run. 
 A most fair land: it is the land of gold; 
 
 It is the land of pleasure and the sun, 
 Pacific as the waters round it roiled. 
 
 Come hither, all ye wretched, wronged, fore- 
 done ! 
 
 Here Freedom dwells, and all men worship her. 
 
 Throned in the west, she sendeth from afar 
 Words of good-will, a radiant messenger 
 
 Of love to all, the holiest avatar. 
 Peasant and prince, and you, philosopher, 
 
 Sail bravely in across the Golden Bar; 
 Leave mooning o'er the past and days that were; 
 
 Behold the triumph of the days that are ! 
 
 57 
 
THE CHOLEEA. 
 
 CHANT FUNEBRE. 
 
 Others may fear thee; what care I 
 How soon thy stilling hand be laid 
 
 Upon this heart? I shall not sigh 
 To be again a shade. 
 Upon the shore 
 
 Of Acheron I 've friends galore. 
 
 But this poor simple earth of ours 
 Doth all her uncomplaining best 
 
 To keep, with music, light and flowers, 
 The young ones in her nest. 
 The old, the worn 
 
 Be thine — the tares amid the corn. 
 
 Majestic pestilence! — be kind; 
 
 Take not the mother from her child, 
 
 58 
 
THE CHOLERA. 59 
 
 The youth from her — for love is blind — 
 Who late upon him smiled. 
 Pass not their way — 
 They 11 welcome thee some future day. 
 
 For here, alas ! too many are 
 
 With toil and sorrow quite undone, 
 
 Who long to reach a purer star 
 Where love and life are one. 
 Short is thy shrift: 
 
 A moment — and the shadows lift. 
 
TWO SONGS. 
 
 I. 
 
 If where you dwell, in other lands, 
 Tour soul and mine should meet, 
 
 O, would you take my waiting hands, 
 Or pass with hasty feet? 
 
 It may be in that purer air 
 
 A clearer sight is given, 
 And hearts may meet with rapture there, 
 
 That here by fate were riven. 
 
 And so, I watch the lagging years 
 
 Go on, in cloud and rain, 
 For somewhere in those mystic spheres 
 
 We two shall meet again. 
 
 60 
 
TWO SONGS. 61 
 
 II. 
 
 Believe not that the idead forget, 
 In this most peaceful place; 
 
 My heart is heavy with regret 
 Because of thy fair face. 
 
 Forgive the colder, duller brain 
 That could not understand 
 
 Thy love, nor to its heights attain 
 In that obscurer land. 
 
 By the white doors of living light 
 I wait, I watch for thee, — 
 
 The first to greet thy nearing flight 
 Of all this company. 
 
THE ISLE OF SKYE. 
 
 The dream returns, I have my wish, 
 
 I see Dunvegan's Hall; 
 The moon sleeps fair on Grishornish, 
 
 I hear the boatmen call; — 
 And it 's O, for a nook in a broomy dell, 
 
 Where the thyme its balm distils, 
 And the rich, rare smell of the heather-bell 
 
 That grows on the Highland hills. 
 
 What song is that, so quaint and sad? 
 
 Down the gray loch it rings; 
 The summer days when I was glad 
 
 Before my eyes it brings; 
 And it 's O, for the kindly Northern speech, 
 
 And the simple fisher-folk, 
 And the tangled reach of the wild sea-beach, 
 
 Where my soul to life awoke. 
 
 62 
 
THE ISLE OF SKYE. 63 
 
 The South is fair, but not to me; 
 
 Though by the sunlight kissed, 
 It lacks the nameless witchery 
 
 That wraps the Isle of Mist; 
 And it 's O, when in earth I lie alow, 
 
 By the far Hebridean wave, 
 May the heather grow, and the west wind blow 
 
 Round a long-forgotten grave. 
 
GUSTAVE DORE. 
 
 In what gray fields and by what slow, strange 
 streams 
 Dost thou abide, and is thy pencil still 
 Busy with phantasies and shapes of ill? 
 
 Perchance thou hast forgotten earthly dreams, 
 
 And fame to thee a faded vision seems, 
 
 Since of Nepenthe thou hast drunk thy fill, 
 And watched the grapes of Proserpine distil 
 
 Their juice in some dim vale where faint light 
 gleams. — 
 
 That fabled land by no man visited 
 Since wan Eurydice the singer bore 
 Nigh to the dreadful gates — upon its shore 
 
 Hast thou found rest for weary heart and head? 
 Or doth the raven sit above the door? 
 
 Is there remembrance with the shadowy dead? 
 
THE VIOLIN. 
 
 The Master's fingers from his violin 
 
 Draw forth a melting music, soft and slow; 
 Quavers in air the faint adagio; 
 
 The scherzo follows with tumultuous din, 
 
 As if a thousand elves were hid within 
 
 The fragile shape, whence now arise and grow 
 Sounds as of voices tremulous with woe, 
 
 Deeply deploring some unearthly sin. 
 
 Listening, I hear the secret of thy heart, 
 And why thy trembling strings must still 
 complain: 
 Thou art a lamentation and a cry 
 Of bodiless souls, that, turning to depart 
 From off the threshold of the vast inane, 
 Call upon us who are about to die. 
 
 65 
 
CALIFOKNIA. 
 
 While by their hearths men sat and stories told 
 Of fabled islands hidden in the west, 
 Or spent their lives, all fruitless, in the quest, 
 
 Thou wert asleep upon thy bed of gold, 
 
 Thy treasure safely kept within thy hold, 
 Until, awaking from a dream of rest, 
 Thou baredst the secrets of thy mighty breast, 
 
 And all thy wonders to the world unrolled. 
 
 And yet, beware ! much gold can dull the brain, 
 Can clog the springs of fancy, and destroy 
 The soul with slow and subtle alchemy, — 
 A baser race may rise to live for gain, 
 Pitiful dullards may thy spoils enjoy, 
 And thou, thyself, be but a mockery. 
 
 66 
 
AUTUMN. 
 
 I have watched them passing — youth, and love, 
 and hope, — 
 
 All are gone from me. 
 With their ghosts I wander down life's autumn 
 slope, 
 
 Silent, drearily. 
 
 Where the roses blossomed, splendid, purple, 
 red, 
 
 Grows the lotos-tree. 
 Faded flowers and leafage round my path are 
 spread, 
 
 Sad and strange to see. 
 
 "Failure, only failure ;" all the fancies fine 
 
 Fled as shadows flee: 
 But the dead are sleeping where the ivies 
 twine, 
 
 Oh, so peacefully ! 
 
 67 
 
JACKSON'S LAST WOEDS. 
 
 "Let me pass over the river, and rest in the 
 shade of the trees." 
 
 From Elysian fields they had come; they were 
 met 
 Their comrade's last pangs to appease; 
 Far and fast had they flown, for they could not 
 forget 
 The night-watches under the trees. 
 
 They whispered, "Commander! the night-watch 
 is set, 
 
 The old banner floats on the breeze; 
 We are drawn up in line to the youngest cadet, 
 
 Under the shade of the trees." 
 
 68 
 
 
jackson's last words. 69 
 
 He saw them — oh, wonder ! — the fever and fret, 
 
 The traces of pain and disease 
 Were gone, and he cried, "Good my friends 
 let me get 
 
 Away to the shade of the trees." 
 
 So he passes with them to the white parapet. 
 
 What welcoming voices are these ! 
 Do you think that he grieves, or has any regret, 
 
 Under the shade of the trees? 
 
 Mighty hero! the sun of whose glory unset 
 
 Gleams on the limitless seas, 
 We shall pass o'er the River and walk with you 
 
 yet, 
 
 Under the shade of the trees. 
 
ENCHANTED GEOUND. 
 
 In all these lands there is no restful place, 
 
 No spot secure from sorrow may be found; 
 Care lends a shadow to the dearest face, 
 And many a heart conceals a mortal wound. 
 But far away I know a fairer ground, 
 A forest where 'tis summer all the year; 
 Amid its leafy mazes horns resound, — 
 There Jaques stands musing by the dying 
 deer, 
 And Touchstone fleets the time with jest and 
 merry fleer. 
 
 There smiling Kosalind, in April charm, 
 Torments Orlando with her mirthful mood. 
 
 How innocent are all and free from harm ! 
 What gracious spirits in this solitude ! 
 
 70 
 
ENCHANTED GROUND. 71 
 
 But I must hie me to another wood, 
 Outside of Athens, an it be not gone, — 
 
 But no, it stands as stately as it stood, 
 What time Titania flouted Oberon, 
 And the bewildered lovers slept its sward upon. 
 
 What soft enchantment wraps my soul away? 
 
 The magic juice hath sure been spilt on me. 
 Behold the sunken ships within the bay! 
 
 Prospero weaves his web of glamourie, — 
 
 Imprisoned Ariel struggles to be free, — 
 Miranda with her Prince talks heart to heart. 
 
 This is the isle where I have longed to be, 
 Most subtly tinted by the Master's art; — 
 Here let me rest, nor ever from these shores 
 depart ! 
 
IN EXTREMIS. 
 
 I. 
 
 I spoke, but what I know not; 
 
 I saw, yet did not see: 
 The heart's deep fountains flow not 
 
 In extreme misery. 
 I closed the door upon the friend 
 Whose love had lasted till the end. 
 
 All was a blank — all yearning, 
 All fear, all hope were gone: 
 
 No star in silence burning 
 Was ever more alone. 
 
 I lent my body to the knife, 
 
 And knew that it was death or life. 
 
 "Not to give too much trouble," 
 Was the last conscious thought; 
 
 Then, like a breaking bubble, 
 It passed, and I was naught, 
 
 Until, awaking on my bed, 
 
 I looked around astonished. 
 
 72 
 
IN EXTBEMI3. 73 
 
 II. 
 
 An atom in the scale of things 
 ( Atoms can suffer ), quietly 
 
 I watch the slow gray light that brings 
 Another day of agony. 
 
 Before me lies the broad, bright bay; 
 
 I see the lumber-laden ships, 
 Ready to start upon their way. 
 
 How cool and fresh the water slips 
 
 About their prows ! Bon voyage, — I 
 Am sailing fast, more fast than you, 
 
 To other seas, a stranger sky, 
 
 And shores that mortal never knew. 
 
ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. 
 
 You made a song — it was a song of Skye — 
 Full of the seas, the sun, the summer rain; 
 To some it seemed a gem of melody, 
 But others heard therein a cry of pain 
 For the wild hills you might not see again. 
 For me, it touched the springs which secret 
 are 
 Fast locked within the dull-remembering 
 brain. 
 I would have thanked you — you were gone 
 too far — 
 Nor in the immense of heaven could I discern 
 your star. 
 
 Only in dreams, only in dreams for me 
 The mountains in their stormy glory rise, 
 
 74 
 
ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. 75 
 
 Engirdled by the gray and desolate sea, 
 And ever changing with a new surprise. 
 For them you pined beneath your southern 
 skies; 
 And L that dearest earth so long untrod, 
 Hopeless must love till patient memory 
 dies. 
 The hills, the purple heather, — O, my God! 
 Might I but rest my head just once upon that 
 sod! 
 
 But not for me, as never now for you, 
 
 The burn will fill the glen, the plover whir, 
 Scattering in sudden flight the morning dew 
 From moors made sweet with thyme and 
 
 juniper, 
 The dun deer glance behind the forest fir, 
 The billows waste their fury on the strand — 
 Treasured delights of the good years that 
 were! 
 
76 BOBEBT LOUIS STEVENSON. 
 
 No more in dusky Morven shall I stand, 
 And watch the brown-sailed fisher-boats come 
 home to land. 
 
 Tranced in the splendor of the tropic sun, 
 Soft be your cloudless sleep on Vaea's 
 height ! 
 Too few your years with swiftest shuttle spun, 
 Yet yours the joy in so brief span to write 
 That which shall live even in death's de- 
 spite. 
 And as we upward trail on broken wing, 
 
 We hear your call — a trumpet in the night, 
 And to some "rag of honor" closer cling, 
 Counting all other loss a passing, trivial thing. 
 
I 
 
 FORGET ME NOT. 
 
 I cannot write you as I would. 
 
 Ah me ! the slow words will not come. 
 And yet, I wish you only good; 
 
 The heart speaks, though the lips are dumb. 
 
 To-day I found, unwittingly, 
 
 Bright blooming in a sheltered spot, 
 
 This floweret. Let it speak for me. 
 Forget me not. 
 
 77 
 
A REMINISCENCE. 
 
 Do you remember how we sat together 
 Once, at the closing of a winter day? 
 
 The fire was lit, for it was bitter weather, 
 And you were sad, and I was none too gay. 
 
 And how I asked you, in a careless fashion, 
 "Why do you knit your brows, as one in 
 pain?" 
 And you replied, with a swift, sudden passion, 
 " Three black thoughts hold possession of 
 my brain. 
 
 "Three faces rise, as in a dream, before me — 
 One, a fair woman's, whom I loved in youth; 
 
 She robbed me of a good none can restore me — 
 My early faith in purity and truth. 
 
 78 
 
A. REMINISCENCE. 79 
 
 "The second face is his — my friend, my brother. 
 
 We swore our comradeship should last for 
 aye; 
 But that is past — we hardly know each other 
 
 Now, when we meet upon the common way. 
 
 "The third, the dearest face — alas! how sadly 
 It looks from eyes heavy with tears unshed! 
 
 Reproach me not, poor ghost; I loved thee 
 madly. 
 Cold is my heart with thine among the dead." 
 
 I heard in silence. Not a word of cheering 
 Came to my lips, so near, so far apart; 
 
 No smile had I to give, no glance endearing, 
 For I, too, had a sorrow at my heart. 
 
THE SINGERS. 
 
 Delicate as Ariel, 
 
 Swayed by every mood, 
 
 Choosing still aloof to dwell 
 From the multitude. 
 
 Gold to them a feeble thing, 
 Hardly worth the pains; 
 
 Sorrow but a passing sting, 
 While the joy remains, — 
 
 The divinest joy of song, 
 
 When the facile pen 
 Traces thoughts that linger long 
 
 In the souls of men. 
 
 Thus they live within the light 
 
 Streaming from above, 
 And their voices in the night 
 
 Sing of hope and love. 
 
 80 
 
THE SINGERS. 81 
 
 We who read their words of flame 
 
 Can with them behold, 
 In a glory without name, 
 
 Mysteries untold. 
 
 All the world before us lies 
 
 In a golden gleam, 
 And the gates of Paradise 
 
 Open like a dream. 
 
MEMORIA SACRA. 
 
 October winds are murmuring 
 
 Their tremulous adagio; 
 The sad thoughts that to me they bring, 
 
 Could you but know. 
 
 This desolate, autumnal day 
 
 Is still to me a day of woe; 
 I miss you more than words can say, 
 
 Could you but know. 
 
 Could you but know the tears I 've shed 
 Since you departed, long ago, 
 
 'T would vex you in your quiet bed, 
 Could you but know. 
 
MEMORIA SACEA. 83 
 
 When light beams brightly on my path, 
 And kindly praises men bestow, 
 
 My heart a fearful impulse hath, 
 Could you but know. 
 
 And when, by wandering stars beguiled, 
 
 All dark and drearily I go, 
 You would be sorry for your child, 
 
 Could you but know. 
 
A MESSAGE. 
 
 I send you here the lofty strain 
 Of one whose soul was great, 
 
 And hope his discipline of pain 
 May never be your fate. 
 
 And if, on a not distant day 
 Of some fast-closing year, 
 
 When the tired hand is cold in clay 
 Which leaves this message here, 
 
 You take the volume from its shelf, 
 To glance it idly through, 
 
 And read it softly to yourself, 
 I shall be watching you. 
 
 84 
 
A MESSAGE. 85 
 
 Although no face your eye shall see, 
 
 Nor any sound be heard, 
 Although your hour of reverie 
 
 Be broken by no word, 
 
 I shall be standing by your chair, 
 
 A silent influence 
 Of which you may be half aware, 
 
 On my departure thence. 
 
THE YEARS. 
 
 The fleeting years, the flying years, 
 How much they take away! — 
 
 Life's early joys, its smiles and tears, 
 Youth's beautiful, brief day. 
 
 The bitter years, the barren years, 
 
 A dolorous array; 
 Hope, like a dim mirage, appears 
 
 Upon their desert gray. 
 
 The fatal years, the final years, 
 Eemorseless, they sweep on; 
 
 We hail Death's shadow as it nears, 
 Impatient to be gone. 
 
 86 
 
ON THE DEATH OF A CAT. 
 
 A pretty, timid, gentle thing, 
 
 Whose claws for me were always sheathed, 
 That loved the very air I breathed, 
 
 Is surely worth remembering. 
 
 Perhaps it is not overwise, 
 
 And yet I grieve that nevermore 
 "Will it peep out behind the door, 
 
 With playful welcome in its eyes. 
 
 I know, I know I did my best 
 To save it from the coming dark, 
 And keep alight life's feeble spark, 
 
 But — Death was stronger; — therefore, rest, 
 
 87 
 
88 ON THE DEATH OF A CAT. 
 
 Poor little friend; and when I, too, 
 Shall lie in the unending sleep, 
 May one true heart a vigil keep 
 
 For me, as I this night for you. 
 
 Helpers of man, that draw the plough, 
 Or guard the fold, or purring lie 
 On cottage hearths, ye beautify 
 
 Our lives far more than we allow. 
 
 The man who maims his brother man — 
 Before him rises up the law, 
 August, with eyes that overawe, 
 
 Exact his least defect to scan. 
 
 And shall not justice fall on them — 
 
 The brutes endowed with human speech - 
 Who break the law of love, and reach 
 
 Out cruel hands, which none condemn? — 
 
ON THE DEATH OF A CAT. 89 
 
 Who care not for the dumb surprise, 
 The anguish of the beast o'erdriven? 
 Dear God ! from thy high place in heaven, 
 
 Dost thou not hear thy children's cries? 
 
 For are they not his children, they 
 Who serve without a recompense, 
 Whose looks are full of eloquence, 
 
 Expressing thoughts they may not say? 
 
 We give them shelter, fire, and food, 
 
 And, in return, they give us all, 
 
 Obedient to our slightest call, — 
 Their lives one act of gratitude. 
 
 Let us to their deserts be just, 
 
 Who hide no hate with smiling guise; 
 No venom in their friendship lies — 
 
 They purely love, and greatly trust. 
 
EVENING. 
 
 When life is nearly over, 
 And chimes the vesper bell, 
 
 On face of friend or lover 
 
 With long, long looks we dwell; 
 
 For it is hard to part — 
 To sunder heart from heart. 
 
 When life is nearly over, 
 Too late we can discern 
 
 Good we could not discover, 
 And truths we would not learn, 
 
 When pressing on in haste 
 
 Across life's mid-day waste. 
 
 90 
 
EVENING. 91 
 
 When life is nearly over, 
 Our evil passions die; 
 
 Faint wings about us hover, 
 And voices from on high 
 
 Call softly to the soul 
 
 That neareth now its goal. 
 
 When life at last is over, 
 And tolls the funeral knell, 
 
 Safe, safe beneath the clover 
 We rest, and all is well; 
 
 Nor are we loth to go — 
 The high God wills it so. 
 
IN THE NIGHT. 
 
 Look to the East. Can you see no light, 
 No faintest glimmer of dawn to be? 
 "'Tis the blackest hour of the black midnigh t, 
 And our chariot wheels drive heavily." 
 
 92 
 
THE HEAVENLY CITY. 
 
 While longing from this empty show 
 
 To flee away and rest, 
 We lift our eyes, and O, the glow 
 
 Of sunshine in the west! 
 
 Fair city, where the rescued dwell, 
 To thee our feet would haste; 
 
 Might we but hear thy music swell, 
 Thy living waters taste ! 
 
 How greatly rise thy splendid walls 
 
 Beside the shoreless sea! 
 Within the shelter of thy halls 
 
 What happy folk they be ! 
 
 93 
 
A FKAGMENT. 
 
 The few who hear thy magic voice 
 Forsake life's common ways; 
 
 They count thine unimagined joys 
 More dear than fame or praise. 
 
 Yet keen the air upon thy heights, 
 
 Lonely thy rapturous delights. 
 
 94 
 
VALE ATQUE VALE. 
 
 For me, I never knew the way 
 To gain the crowns of lif e — 
 
 A chance spectator of the fray, 
 A watcher of the strife. 
 
 And so it is not hard for one 
 With naught to lose or win, 
 
 To mark the setting of the sun, 
 And see the night begin. 
 
 95 
 
Deacidified using the Bookkeeper proces 
 Neutralizing agent: Magnesium Oxide 
 Treatment Date: Oct. 2009 
 
 PreservationTechnologie; 
 
 A WORLD LEADER IN COLLECTIONS PRESERVATIO 
 
 111 Thomson Park Drive 
 Cranberry Township, PA 16066 
 (724)779-2111