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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..2b2f431 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #55170 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/55170) diff --git a/old/55170-0.txt b/old/55170-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 7e521f6..0000000 --- a/old/55170-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,5926 +0,0 @@ -Project Gutenberg's The Prophecy of Merlin and Other Poems, by John Reade - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license - - -Title: The Prophecy of Merlin and Other Poems - -Author: John Reade - -Release Date: July 22, 2017 [EBook #55170] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PROPHECY OF MERLIN *** - - - - -Produced by Larry B. Harrison, Chuck Greif and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive) - - - - - - - - - - THE - PROPHECY OF MERLIN - AND - OTHER POEMS. - - BY - JOHN READE. - - MONTREAL: - PUBLISHED BY DAWSON BROTHERS. - - 1870. - - - - - Entered according to Act of Parliament, in the year 1870, by - JOHN READE, - in the Office of the Minister of Agriculture. - - MONTREAL: PRINTED BY THE MONTREAL PRINTING AND PUBLISHING CO. - - - - - - “O living friends that love me! - O dear ones gone above me! - Careless of other fame, - I leave to you my name. - - * * * * - - Sweeter than any sung - My songs that found no tongue; - Nobler than any fact - My wish that failed of act.” - - J. G. WHITTIER. - - - - -CONTENTS. - - - PAGE - -The Prophecy of Merlin 3 - -Devenish 29 - -Kings of Men 31 - -Vashti 32 - -Shakspere 38 - -Spring 45 - -In Memoriam 48 - -Winter 54 - -Per Noctem Plurima Volvens 55 - -Balaam 59 - -Good Night 69 - -Winter Sunshine 72 - -Christus Salvator 73 - -Who hath Begotten the Drops of Dew? 74 - -Thalatta! Thalatta! 76 - -Rizpah 78 - -Natalie 81 - -The Fenian Raid (June, ’66) 84 - -Humanum est Errare 86 - -Sing me the Songs I Love 87 - -In Memoriam--T. D. McGee 89 - -Killynoogan 92 - -What Can I Do? 98 - -Hastings 99 - -The Naughty Boy 103 - -Rosa 106 - -Jubal 108 - -Apollo Dropt a Seed of Song 119 - -Vox Dei 120 - -The Old War-horse 121 - -Eloise 125 - -When the Spring-time Comes 126 - -Hope 130 - -Dominion Day 131 - -In My Heart 143 - -Sisera 146 - -Columba Sibylla 148 - -Summer is Dead 149 - -To a Dead Field Flower 151 - -The Departure of the Prince of Wales from Portland 154 - -Ode on the Prince of Wales’ Marriage 157 - -To a Snow-bird 160 - -The Clouds are Blushing 161 - -Unspoken 163 - -Jephthah 166 - -De Profundis 169 - -Lochleven 172 - -Unus Abest 174 - -The Prodigal’s Return 176 - -It is the Quiet Hour 178 - -ESSAYS IN TRANSLATION. - -Hector and Andromache,-- - - The Parting 181 - - The Lament of Andromache 189 - -The Beacon Light 194 - -Priam and Helen 198 - -Song of the Trojan Captive 205 - -Bellerophon 208 - -Horace, Ode xi. Book I. 211 - -Orpheus and Eurydice 212 - -Adrian’s Address to his Soul 217 - -Pyramus and Thisbe 219 - -The Withered Leaf 225 - -André Chénier’s Death-song 226 - -The Lake 229 - -The Wandering Jew 233 - - - - - POEMS. - - - - - THE PROPHECY OF MERLIN. - - - Sir Bedivere, in silence, watched the barge - That bore away King Arthur to the vale - Of Avalon, till it was seen no more. - Then, on the beach, alone amid the dead, - He lifted up his voice and sorely wept. - “Alas!” he cried, “gone are the pleasant days - At Camelot, and the sweet fellowship - Of noble knights and true, and beauteous dames - Who have no peers in all the living world, - Is quite dissolved for ever, and the King - Has gone and left none like him among men. - O happy, thrice and fourfold, ye who rest, - Both friends and foemen, in one peaceful bed, - While I am sick at soul and cannot die! - Oh! that the battle might be fought again! - Then would I surely seek the way to death, - And bleed and sleep like you, and be at peace. - But now, ah! whither, whither can I go, - Since he is gone who was my light of life, - And whom to see was bliss? What can I do - Without the voice that gave my arm its strength? - Or wherefore bear a sword, since now no more - Excalibur points forth to noble deeds?” - - And then he drew his blade, and threw it far - Into the Lake, and, as he saw it sink, - “Would God,” said he, “that so I followed him.” - - But with the strain his wounds began to bleed, - And he grew weak, and sank upon the ground, - And swooned. - And when he woke, he was aware - Of Merlin, who stood watching by his side. - Then cried Sir Bedivere: “O good and wise, - I bid thee welcome, for, in all the world, - There is none other I would fainer see. - Yet am I sad to see thee, for the King - Is gone, and none is left of all his Knights - Save me, and I am weary of my life.” - - But Merlin, ere he answered, staunched his wound, - And gave him wine out of a golden flask, - And, by the healing art which he possessed, - Restored him sound and whole. And then he spake: - “There is no need to tell me, for I know - All thou would’st say, and knew ere thou wast born - That all these things should be. But weep no more, - Sir Bedivere. The past no man can change, - Nor make what has been other than it is. - As in the forests of Broceliande, - The leaves fall year by year, and give the oaks - All bare to wintry blasts, so, swept apace - Before the breath of Time, the race of men - Passes away, and may be seen no more. - And yet the breeze of Spring is no less sweet, - Which plays around the tender budding leaves, - And calls to life their beauty, that it is - As well a requiem as baby-song. - So weep not for the days that are no more, - But pray, as the King bade thee, for his soul, - That to his far-off home no sigh may come - From this, his orphan and unhappy realm, - To mar the melody of Avalon.” - - Then said Sir Bedivere: “O good and wise, - Will he return again to Camelot, - After his wound is healed, and Guinevere - Has healed that other wound that vexed his soul, - By purging her own soul of all offence? - And will he not assemble round his board - The best and bravest knights of Christendom, - And all the fairest ladies of the land, - And reign as erst he reigned in Camelot?” - - * * * * * - - Then Merlin: “Hid from eyes of common men - Is that which is to be in after days; - And only those can see it in whose souls - A heavenly brightness has dissolved the mist - That darkens mortal sight. And even these - Can see but dimly, as a far-off hill - Appears at even when the stars surprise - The lingering kisses of the parting sun. - But I, thou knowest well, Sir Bedivere, - Am not of mortal race, nor was I born - Of human mother nor of human sire. - Mine is the blazonry of prophet souls - Whose lineage finds in God its kingly head. - To me what was and that which is to come - Are ever present, and I grow not old - With time, but have the gift of endless youth. - As one who stands beside a placid stream, - Watching the white sails passing slowly down, - And knows a fatal whirlpool waits them all, - And yet, the while, is powerless to save,-- - So watch I all the ages passing by - Adown the stream of time into the gulf - From which is no return. Alas! alas! - How oft have I, who ever love the good, - The pure, the brave and wise, wept bitter tears, - As they have passed me, joyous in their course, - And we have held sweet converse, as I thought - How soon their faces would be seen no more! - Sad, sad, Sir Bedivere, the prophet’s gift, - Who sees the evil which he cannot heal!” - - And then a gloom o’ershadowed Merlin’s face, - That caused Sir Bedivere to pity him; - And they both wept, as one, amid the dead, - Thinking of all the sorrows of the world. - But Merlin, when his face grew calm again, - Began: “Come, hearken now, Sir Bedivere, - And I will give an answer to thy quest: - King Arthur sleeps in Avalon, and many a change - Must over-pass this land before he wake. - The great White Dragon of the stormy North, - Rearing his crest above the foaming waves, - Shall shake the ground, and level all the hills,-- - And war shall follow war,--and blood shall flow - In every vale,--and smoke of burning towns - Shall reach the sky,--and men shall cry for aid - Unto the sea, to hide them from the foe-- - And still shall Arthur sleep in Avalon. - - And when the Dragon, sated with the blood - Of Christian men and women, yields at length - To a mild victor, Tigers of the Sea - Shall come, from craggy homes, to rend and tear, - And brave men’s hearts shall quail before their eyes-- - Yet still shall Arthur sleep in Avalon. - - The Tigers’ wrath appeased, another foe - Shall wave a foreign banner o’er the land, - And trample down beneath his horses’ hoofs - Briton, and Dane, and Saxon, till the ground - Is rank with blood, as when upon the slopes - Of Badon Arthur charged the heathen host-- - Yet still the King shall sleep in Avalon. - - But as the ages pass, these foes shall join - In friendship, and a nation shall arise, - Like a strong oak amid the forest trees, - Which, growing slowly, ceases not to grow, - But fastens firmly, as it aims aloft, - And spreads its branches far on every side, - A shelter to the stranger of all lands-- - While Arthur still sleeps on in Avalon. - - And many Kings shall rule and win renown - For this now saddened and distracted realm; - And Britain shall be great by land and sea, - And stretch her conquering arms around the world, - And gather treasures from all climes, and teach - Her tongues to distant nations, and her name - Shall be a word of praise to all the earth-- - While Arthur still sleeps on in Avalon. - But though he sleep, he still shall wear the crown - As rightful lord of Britain, for on him,-- - The image of a noble Christian King, - The image of a ruler sent of God,-- - The people still shall look in whoso reigns. - And if there be a King of soul impure-- - Or if there be a King of hand unjust-- - Or if there be a King who weighs himself - Against the nation’s weal (such Kings there are - And ever shall be until Arthur wake),-- - It is the _real_ King the people serve, - The Blameless Prince that never can do wrong, - And not the false usurper of his name.” - - Then, wondering much, broke in Sir Bedivere: - “O Merlin, thou art far too wise for me, - Though well I love thy speech. But, in good sooth, - And plainly, as we speak of common things, - Answer me: Will the King come back again - In his own fleshly guise, the very same - As when he feasted erst in Camelot - With all the Table Round? And will he wear - The crown, and gird him with Excalibur, - And conquer heathen foes, and rid the land - Of all that speaketh lies or doeth wrong?-- - Or, must he sleep for ever, and his face - Be hid away from those that love him well? - For, if I thought that it were so to be, - I never could have comfort in my life.” - - Then answered Merlin: “Let me tell my tale - In my own way, and hearken till the close. - All these things happen not as we desire, - But as the ages need. Such men as he - Come not without great travail and sore pain; - They are the ripe fruit of the centuries, - Who nourish noble thoughts and noble deeds, - Give health and vigour to the sickly times, - And stir the gross blood of the sleepy world; - And when they pass away, their names, endued - With life, still head the van of truth and right: - So shall the name and spirit of the King, - Who ruled in Camelot the Table Round, - Guide Britain into ever-growing fame; - And all her Kings that reign shall reign in him, - The golden type of kingly chivalry. - And those three Queens thou sawest, three fair Queens, - So sweet and womanly, who, in the barge, - Bore, tenderly, away the wounded King, - Shall reign in Britain in the after-time,-- - As, in the old time, Carismandua - And brave Bonduca whom the Romans feared - Held a firm sceptre in a gentle hand. - Of best and purest Queenhood, they, the type, - As Arthur is the type of Blameless Kings. - And as by three sweet names of holy kin - They shall be known, so shall they also shew - A triple sisterhood beneath one crown-- - Britain, and Albyn, and green Innisfail. - - Now, when the last of three Queens has slept - For many years, there shall arise a Fourth-- - Fair, good and wise, and loved by all the land - Of Britain, and by many lands on every sea. - And in her days the world shall have much changed - From that which now we live in. Mysteries, - Save unto me in vision, now unknown, - Shall then be clear as day. The earth and air - Shall yield strange secrets for the use of men,-- - The planets, in their courses, shall draw near, - And men shall see their marvels, as the flowers - That grace the meads of Summer,--time and space - Shall know new laws, and history shall walk - Abreast with fact o’er all the peopled world:-- - For words shall flash like light from shore to shore, - And light itself shall chronicle men’s deeds. - Great ships shall plough the ocean without sail, - And steedless chariots shoot with arrowy speed - O’er hill and dale and river, and beneath - The solid floor we tread,--the silent rocks - Shall tell the story of the infant world,-- - The falling leaf shall shew the cause of things - Sages have sought in vain--and the whole vast - Of sight and sound shall be to men a school - Where they may learn strange lessons; and great truths - That long have slept in the deep heart of God - Shall waken and come forth and dwell with men, - As in the elder days the tented lord - Of countless herds was taught by angel-guests. - And this fair land of Britain then shall be - Engrailed with stately cities,--and by streams - Where now the greedy wolf roams shall be heard - The multitudinous voice of Industry,-- - And Labour, incense-crowned, shall hold her court - Where now the sun scarce touches with his beams - The scattered seeds of future argosies, - That to the furthest limit of the world - Shall bear the glory of the British name. - And where a Grecian victor never trod, - And where a Roman banner never waved, - East, West, and North, and South, and to those Isles, - Happy and rich, of which the poets dreamed - But never saw, set far in Western seas, - Beyond the pillars of the heathen god-- - Shall Arthur’s realm extend, and dusky Kings - Shall yield obeisance to his conquering fame. - - And She, the fourth fair tenant of the throne, - Heir to the ripe fruit of long centuries, - Shall reign o’er such an empire, and her name, - Clasping the trophies of all ages, won - By knightly deeds in every land and sea, - Shall be VICTORIA. - Then shall come a Prince - From o’er the sea, of goodly mien and fair, - And, winning her, win all that she has won-- - Wedded to her, be good as she is pure-- - Reigning with her, be wise as she is great-- - And, loving her, be loved by all the world.” - - Then spake Sir Bedivere, all eagerly: - “He, Merlin, is he not our Blameless King, - Returned from his long sleep in Avalon, - To crown the glories of the later world?” - - Then Merlin: “Wait a while, Sir Bedivere, - And I will tell thee all. - In deeds of war,-- - The rage of battle, and the clangorous charge - Of mailéd knights, and flash of hostile swords, - And flying spears, and din of meeting shields, - And all the use of man-ennobling might - For Christ and for His Cross, to wrest the land - From heathen foes--did Arthur win his fame. - For this, by marvels, was he born and bred; - For this, by marvels, was he chosen King; - For this he sent his heralds to all parts - Of the divided realm, to summon forth - All bravest, truest knights of Christendom - From rude and selfish war to Camelot, - That they might be one heart around himself - To send new life-blood through the sickly land, - And purge it of the plague of heathennesse. - And had not the foul falsehood of his house - Broken athwart the true aim of his life, - And set the Table Round against itself, - Ere now the heathen Dragon had been crushed, - Never again to raise its hideous head - O’er the fair land that Christ’s apostle blessed. - - This was the purpose that his soul had formed-- - Alas! how unaccomplished!--and he hoped - That gentle peace would be the meed of war,-- - That ’neath the laurel far and wide would bloom - The flowers of wisdom, charity and truth,-- - That holy men and sages, ladies fair - And famous knights, and those that from earth’s lap - Gather God’s bounties, and the men whose hands - Have skilful touch, and those who tell or sing - Of Nature and her marvels, or who fill - The scroll with records of the misty past, - And others of all arts and all degrees, - Should work, each in the place that he had found, - With one pure impulse in the heart of all,-- - That Britain should be called of all the world - A blameless people round a Blameless King. - - This purpose Albert, in the after-time, - (So shall the Prince be named of whom I spake,) - Shall take from the dim shrine where it has lain, - Scarce touched by dreamy reverence, many an age, - And hold it in the daylight of his life. - But not alone. She whom his heart has won, - With loving aid, shall ever at his side - (Till death them part) sustain him in his thought. - And these two, nobly mated, each to each - The sweet and ripe completion, shall be named - With loyal love and tenderest respect - By knight and lady, poet, sage and priest, - In mart and camp, in palace and in cot, - By babbling gray-beard and by lisping child, - Wherever Britain’s banner is unfurled. - So shall the land grow strong with bonds of peace, - Till men believe that wars have ceased to drench - The earth with bloody rain;--and Art shall smile - On myriad shapes of beauty and of use,-- - And Wisdom shall have freer scope, and push - The boulders of old folly from her field,-- - And men shall walk with larger minds across - The limits of the superstitious past, - And cull the gold out of the dross of things, - Flinging the dross aside,--and then shall be - New hopes of better changes yet to be, - When harmony shall reign through all the world, - And interchange of good for common weal - Be only law. - A palace shall arise - Beneath the guidance of the Blameless Prince, - The crystal image of his ample mind, - The home of what is best in every clime; - And thither, from all lands beneath the sun, - Shall crowd the patient workers in all arts, - Bringing the treasures of their skill. The hands - Of many nations with a brother’s clasp - Shall join together; and the Babel tongues - Of Eastern, Western, Northern, Southern lands - Shall strive no more in discord, but, as one, - Shall make harmonious music, as of yore - The sound of four great rivers rose and fell - Through fragrant splendours in the Eden-world. - - And men shall say: ‘Now is the reign of peace, - Foretold by sacred sages, come at last. - And cries of war shall never more be heard - Through the fair world, but men shall take their swords - And beat them into ploughshares, and their spears - And lances they shall turn to pruning-hooks,-- - Nation with nation shall contend no more, - Save as to who may reach the goal of best - Before the other, for the common good,-- - And men shall only vie in virtue, skill - And beauty, fruits of hand and head and heart,-- - And strength shall be in knowledge and its use,-- - And right, not might, shall guide men in their acts,-- - And small and great shall have one common law,-- - And he, alone, shall be considered just - Who, in a doubtful matter, puts himself - In his friend’s place. So all men shall be friends: - For each shall see in other but himself, - And love him as himself. This is Christ’s rule, - Which the base world so long has set at nought, - But now restored by our All-blameless Prince, - And preached by gentle act to all the world.’ - - So shall men say, rejoicing; but, alas! - While yet the words rise from their gladdened hearts, - The olive garland shall begin to fade - On the sweet brows of peace; and Avarice, - Like a gaunt wolf, ever unsatisfied - As long as one lamb bleats within the fold, - Shall raise the harsh cry that awakens war. - - In those far lands beyond the Southern Sea, - Traversed by knights who seek the Holy Grail, - The mountains belch forth fire, and flood the slopes - And valleys with the sulphurous tide of hell, - Till man and all his works are whelmed beneath. - Then, wearied with his rage, the demon sleeps, - And o’er the frozen graves of the long dead - The hopeful vine grows and the flowers bloom, - And children’s voices and the song of birds - Bid hush the awful memory of the past. - But on some doomful night an ominous roar - Startles the dreaming villager, who, looking - Forth through his shivering casement, sees the sky - Alive with fearful forms. The spirits of fire, - Unchained from their long bondage, with fierce joy - Dance onward, bearing death, while smoky palls - Waver around them. With their ghostly hands - From wrathful vials they pour blazing streams - That lick the earth, from which is no escape - But death--and death comes soon. So after peace, - Which men had thought eternal, shall come war, - And chase, with rumbling horror, the sweet dreams - Of gentle harmony throughout the world. - - Then shall the spirit of the Table Round - Enter men’s hearts and make their right arms strong - For deeds of war,--deeds that shall make the eyes - Of those who come thereafter flash with pride. - - By many a far-off height and river-side - Shall fall such men as fought at Badon-hill - Warring with heathen foes; and lonely hearths - Shall sorrow for the dead who come no more. - And, one war over, others shall succeed, - And others; and the blaze of burning towns - Shall blot the moon out of the midnight sky. - - And some will say: ‘Now is the end at hand - Of all things, and the whole fair world is doomed - To sink in ashy nothingness. The wrath - Of God is kindled for the sins of men.’ - - But when the fiery wave of war has washed - The world, as gold from which the dross is burned, - The nations shall rise purer, and men’s hearts - Shall fear the touch of wrong; the slave ashamed - And angry once to see the pitiless sun - Smile on his chains, shall leap and sing for joy. - Free thought shall take the ancient shield of Truth - And make it bright, showing the Artist’s work, - Long hid by stains and rust from longing eyes; - And hoary ills shall die, and o’er their graves - Shall bloom fair flowers, and trees of goodly fruit - To gladden and make strong the heart of man.” - - Then said Sir Bedivere: “O, good and wise, - My heart is full of wonder, and I doubt - Whether or not I listen in a dream - Wrought by thy wizard spells around my soul. - But tell me further of the Blameless Prince, - The image of King Arthur,--or himself, - Albeit thou sayst it not, come back again - From his long sleep in Avalon. Shall he die, - Or shall he live and teach men how to live - Until the coming of our Master, Christ?” - - Then Merlin, with a cloud upon his face, - As thinking of the sorrow that must be, - Yet with a silver smile about the cloud, - Answered Sir Bedivere: “O, loving well - And loyal to the last, the Blameless Prince, - The God-sent promise of a better time - When all men shall be like him, good and wise, - Shall, when his work is finished, pass away; - And the dark shade of sorrow’s wings shall blot - The sky, and all the widowed land shall mourn; - And chiefly she, his other self, the Queen, - Shall weep long years in lonely palace-halls, - Missing the music of a silent voice. - But, though his voice be silent, in men’s hearts - Shall sink the fruitful memory of his life, - And take deep root, and grow to glorious deeds. - And she will write the story of his life - Who loved him, and though tears may blot the page, - Even as they fall, the rainbow hues of hope - Shall bless them with Christ’s promise of the time - When they that sow in tears shall reap in joy.” - - Then, sad and sore amazed, Sir Bedivere: - “O, Merlin, Merlin, truly didst thou say - That hid from eyes of common men like me - Is that which is to be in after days; - For even now I scarce can comprehend - What thou hast spoken with prophetic lips. - These things are very far beyond my reach. - This only do I know, that I am now - An orphan knight, reft of the royal sire - That made me knight, giving my soul new birth - And heirdom to the Christian fellowship - Of the Round Table. Gladly would I give - All glory ever won by knightly deed, - All honour in the ranks of my compeers, - All gentle blandishments of ladies fair, - All that I am, or have, or prize the most, - And sink into the meanness of the churl - That feeds the Saxon’s swine, for but one glimpse - Of my loved lord, King Arthur. But I know - That he will never more to Camelot - Bring back the glory of his vanished face, - Nor call me his ‘true knight, Sir Bedivere.’ - So I will pray, even as thou badst me pray, - And as King Arthur bade me, for his soul, - That to his far-off home no sigh may come, - From this his orphan and unhappy realm, - To mar the melody of Avalon. - And though he may not hither come to me, - May I not hope that I may go to him, - And see him face to face, in that fair land, - Whose beauty mortal eye has never seen, - Whose music mortal ear has never heard, - Whose glory mortal heart has not conceived. - - But, Merlin, I would ask thee one thing more, - If thou have patience with my blunter sense - (For I am but a knight, and thou, a sage, - And knowest all things)--prithee, tell me, Merlin, - If, in the far-off after-time, shall come - A Prince who shall be known by Arthur’s name, - And bear it blamelessly as he did his.” - - Then, Merlin, with a wise smile on his face, - Such as a mother wears who gently tries - To answer the hard question of her child, - Answered Sir Bedivere: “Thou askest well, - And fain am I to answer. That good Prince - Of whom I spake--Albert, the Blameless Prince-- - Shall be the head of many dynasties. - His blood, in after years, shall wear the crown - Of many kingdoms. She who loved him well - Shall reign for many years when he is gone, - And round her widowed diadem shall gleam - The richer halo of a nation’s love, - For her own sake and for the sainted dead. - And she will shed the brightness of her soul - On Britain’s future Kings, and they shall learn, - Not only from her lips, but from her life, - That who rules well must make Christ’s law his rule. - And of the Good Queen and the Blameless Prince - One son shall be named Arthur. Like the King - For whom thy heart is sad, Sir Bedivere, - He shall be true, and brave, and generous - In speech and act to all of all degrees, - And win the unsought guerdon of men’s love. - - In a far land beneath the setting sun, - Now and long hence undreamed of (save by me - Who, in my soul’s eye, see the great round world - Whirled by the lightning touches of the sun - Through time and space),--a land of stately woods, - Of swift broad rivers, and of ocean lakes,-- - The name of Arthur,--him that is to be,-- - (Son of the Good Queen and the Blameless Prince), - Shall shed new glories upon him we loved.” - - Then, by the memories of his lord, the King, - Sir Bedivere was quickened into tears, - But, like a boy ashamed to shew wet eyes - Before a boy, he passed his mailéd hand - Athwart his face, and frightened back his grief. - And seeing Merlin made no sign to speak - More of the Arthur of the after-time, - He took the word: “Thanks, Merlin, thou art kind - Beyond the limit of my gratitude, - I fear me. Sorrow is a selfish thing, - And much exacts from friendship. Still, I thank thee - That thou hast not gainsayed my utmost quest. - And, now, I pray God bless him when he comes, - That other Arthur. May he keep his name - As pure as his who ruled in Camelot; - May he, in every wise, be like to him, - Save in the pain that comes of love deceived - And trampled faith; and may his far-off land - Be great by noble deeds of noble men.” - - Then came a sound of music from the Lake, - Like the soft sighing of the summer winds - Among the pine-trees, and Sir Bedivere - Turned toward the sound. But as he turned again - To ask of Merlin what the music meant, - Merlin was gone, and he was all alone-- - Alone upon the beach amid the dead! - - - - -DEVENISH. - - - I. - - ’Twas years since I had heard the name, - When, seen in print, before my eyes - The old Round Tower seemed to rise, - With silent scorn of noisy fame. - - - II. - - Our little boat, like water-bird, - Touches the still Lake, breast to breast; - No sound disturbs the solemn rest - Save kiss of oar and whisper’d word. - - - III. - - All Nature wears a placid smile - Of gold and blue and tender green; - And in the setting of the scene - Lies, like a gem, the Holy Isle. - - - IV. - - Hushed is the music of the oar; - A little hand is placed in mine; - My blood runs wildly, as with wine-- - We stand together on the shore. - - - V. - - O boyish days! O boyish heart! - In vain I wish you back again! - O boyish fancy’s first sweet pain, - How glorious, after all, thou art! - - - VI. - - The old Round Tower, the ruined walls, - Where mould’ring bones once knelt in prayer, - The Latin legend, winding stair,-- - These any “tourist’s book” recalls. - - - VII. - - But, oh! the love, the wild delight, - The sweet romance of long ago, - All these have vanished, as the glow - Of eventide fades out at night. - - - - - KINGS OF MEN. - - - As hills seem Alps, when veiled in misty shroud, - Some men seem kings, through mists of ignorance; - Must we have darkness, then, and cloud on cloud, - To give our hills and pigmy kings a chance? - Must we conspire to curse the humbling light, - Lest some one, at whose feet our fathers bowed, - Should suddenly appear, full length, in sight, - Scaring to laughter the adoring crowd? - Oh, no! God send us light!--Who loses then? - The king of slaves and not the king of men. - True kings are kings for ever, crowned of God, - The King of Kings,--we need not fear for them. - ’Tis only the usurper’s diadem - That shakes at touch of light, revealing fraud. - - - - - VASHTI. - - - “After these things, when the wrath of King Ahasuerus was appeased, - he remembered Vashti.”--_Book of Esther_ ii. 1. - - - I. - - Is this all the love that he bore me, my husband, to publish my face - To the nobles of Media and Persia, whose hearts are besotted and base? - Did he think me a slave, me, Vashti, the Beautiful,[A] me, - Queen of Queens, - To summon me thus for a show to the midst of his bacchanal scenes? - - [A] Vashti means “_Beautiful Woman_;” Esther means “_A Star_.” - - - II. - - I stand like an image of brass, I, Vashti, in sight of such men! - No, sooner, a thousand times sooner, the mouth of the lioness’ den, - When she’s fiercest with hunger and love for the hungry - young lions that tear - Her breasts with sharp, innocent teeth, I would enter, - aye, sooner than there! - - - III. - - Did he love me, or is he, too, though the King, but a brute like the rest? - I have seen him in wine, and I fancied ’twas then that he - loved me the best; - Though I think I would rather have one sweet, passionate - word from the heart - Than a year of caresses that may with the wine that creates them depart. - - - IV. - - But ever before, in his wine, towards me he shewed honour and grace,-- - He was King, I was Queen, and those nobles he made them - remember their place; - But now all is changed: I am vile, they are honoured, - they push me aside,-- - A butt for Memucan, and Shethar, and Meres, gone mad in their pride! - - * * * * * - - - - V. - - Shall I faint? shall I pine? shall I sicken and die for - the loss of his love? - Not I; I am queen of myself, though the stars fall from heaven above-- - The stars! ha! the torment is there, for my light is put out by a _Star_, - That has dazzled the eyes of the King and his Court - and his Captains of War. - - * * * * * - - - - VI. - - He was lonely, they say, and he looked, as he sat like - a ghost at his wine, - On the couch by his side, where, of yore, his Beautiful used to recline. - But the King is a slave to his pride, to his oath, and - the laws of the Medes, - And he cannot call Vashti again, though his poor heart - is wounded and bleeds. - - - VII. - - So they ransacked the land for a wife, while the King - thought of me all the while-- - I can see him, this moment, with eyes that are lost for - the loss of a smile, - Gazing dreamily on as each maiden is temptingly passed - in review, - While the love in his heart is awake with the thought - of a face that he knew! - - * * * * * - - - - VIII. - - Then _she_ came, when his heart was grown weary with loving - the dream of the past! - She is fair--I could curse her for that, if I thought that - this passion would last! - But, e’en if it last, all the love is for me, and, through - good and through ill, - The King shall remember his Vashti, shall think of his - Beautiful still. - - * * * * * - - - - IX. - - Oh! the day is a weary burden, the night is a restless strife,-- - I am sick to the very heart of my soul of this life--this death in life! - Oh! that the glorious, changeless sun would draw me up in his might, - And quench my dreariness in the flood of his everlasting light! - - * * * * * - - - - X. - - What is it? Oft, as I lie awake and my pillow is wet with tears, - There comes--it came to me just now--a flash, then disappears: - A flash of thought that makes this life a re-enacted scene, - That makes me dream what was, shall be, and what is now, has been. - - - XI. - - And I, when age on age has rolled, shall sit on the royal throne, - And the King shall love his Vashti, his Beautiful, his own; - And for the joy of what has been and what again shall be, - I’ll try to bear this awful weight of lonely misery! - - * * * * * - - - - XII. - - The star! the star! oh! blazing light that burns into my soul! - The star! the star! oh! flickering light of life beyond control! - O King! remember Vashti, thy Beautiful, thy own, - Who loved thee and shall love thee still, when Esther’s light has flown! - - - - - SHAKSPERE. - - _April 23rd, 1864._ - - - I. - - To-day, three hundred years ago, - A common, English April morn, - In Stratford town a child was born, - Stratford, where Avon’s waters flow. - - - II. - - No guns are fired, no joy-bell rings: - But neighbours call to see the boy - And mother, and to wish them joy, - And then--attend to other things. - - - III. - - Some years glide by--the boy is man; - At school they thought him apt to learn; - And now he goes from home to earn - His livelihood, as best he can. - - - IV. - - He takes the stage; he writes a play; - ’Tis well received; he writes again; - His name is known, and courtly men - Are glad to hear what he may say. - - - V. - - For he flings wreaths of pearls abroad, - Like shells or daisies idly strung; - Nor sparing brain, nor pen, nor tongue, - Nor waiting until men applaud; - - - VI. - - But, like a bird, a noble song - He sings, as Genius teaches him-- - Regardless of the critic’s whim-- - Whether he think it right or wrong. - - - VII. - - Great Nature’s book he wisely reads: - He solves the mystery of life, - And cuts, with philosophic knife, - The tangled knot of human deeds. - - - VIII. - - Man’s passion--madness, hatred, guile, - Hope, mercy, friendship, honour, truth; - The griefs of age--the joys of youth; - The patriot’s tear--the villain’s smile; - - - IX. - - The modest gem--the tinselled gaud, - Of noble worth or base pretence; - The glory bought at blood’s expense; - The power gained by force or fraud-- - - - X. - - On these his sun of genius shone, - Making a wondrous photograph, - Till even critics ceased to laugh, - And owned the picture nobly done. - - - XI. - - The chromatrope of woman’s heart; - The words forgot with passion’s breath; - The vanity that conquers death; - The feathery smile that wings a dart; - - - XII. - - The gentle care that makes man blest; - The truth far more than jewels worth; - The love that makes a heaven of earth-- - All these to him were manifest. - - - XIII. - - He touches the historic page-- - The dead return to life again, - And feel and speak like real men, - Hero or lover, king or sage. - - - XIV. - - The realms of air, with potent wand, - He enters boldly as a king; - And fays, that float on viewless wing, - Sing dreamy songs at his command! - - - XV. - - And witches point, with palsied hand, - And blast the air with hellish chime; - And ghosts revisit earth a time, - With messages from spirit-land! - - - XVI. - - He calls, and what men fancied dumb, - Hills, groves, and lakes, and brooks, and stones, - Answer him in a thousand tones, - Till silence makes a joyous hum. - - - XVII. - - In fine, he made “the world a stage,” - And all upon it act their parts-- - By Nature’s prompting and by Art’s-- - For Art is Nature taught by age. - - - XVIII. - - And, singing thus, he passed his days-- - Not without honour, it is true-- - Yet hardly understood by few, - And these were slow in giving praise. - - - XIX. - - And men had lived in mist so long, - Some could not bear his blaze of light, - But shut their eyes, and said ’twas night, - When it ’twas just the noon of song. - - - XX. - - But when his soul shook off its clay, - And hied, its labour done, to God, - Throughout the land that he had trod, - ’Twas felt “A King is dead to-day!” - - - XXI. - - And now, when centuries have flown, - Some shout, “Come, build a monument, - For all arrears of poet-rent,”-- - As if _he_ needed brass or stone! - - - XXII. - - O man! how oft thy acts have lied! - Thou crushest those who strive to live, - And makest poor pretence to give - Fame unto him thou can’st not hide. - - - XXIII. - - And some are honoured, being dead, - By those who coldly turned aside, - And gave them, living, but their pride, - When they, perhaps, were needing bread! - - - XXIV. - - Yet not to all such honour comes-- - Only a few bright names are known - Of all the “simple, great ones gone”-- - The most are only found on tombs. - - - XXV. - - But one shall never pass away-- - His, who was born in Stratford town, - When brave Queen Bess wore England’s crown, - Three hundred years ago to-day! - - - - - SPRING. - - - I. - - O grand, old Earth of God’s and ours, - Once more thou doffest winter’s veil, - Once more the budding trees and flowers - And birds’ sweet music bid thee hail! - - - II. - - Is it a time for joy or care, - O Earth?--a time to laugh or weep? - What myriads in thy bosom sleep, - And we shall soon lie sleeping there! - - - III. - - O Earth! ’tis hard to understand - Why thou should’st thus thy children crave! - For art thou not a mighty grave, - Though strewn with flowers by God’s good hand? - - - IV. - - Thou hearest not, amid thy mirth, - Nor carest though thy children die, - And senseless in thy bosom lie, - Cold and unthought of, cruel Earth! - - - V. - - And yet, O Earth! a little seed, - Dropt by man’s hand within thy heart, - Thou makest great, and dost impart - To him again for every need! - - - VI. - - O Earth! if seed that man lets fall - Into thy heart, thou givest thus - Back thirty, sixty-fold to us, - Thou art not cruel, after all! - - - VII. - - Nor dost thou, Earth, thy children crave; - ’Tis God that sows them as His seed, - And by and bye they shall be freed, - As beauteous flowers for him who gave. - - - VIII. - - O gay, Spring Earth of God’s and ours,-- - Nay, rather, thou and we are His, - And sun and stars and all that is,-- - We bid thee hail with birds and flowers! - - - - - IN MEMORIAM. - - - I. - - Our days of happiness Time hurries by, - As though in haste his envy found relief; - But in our nights of anguish his cold eye - Lingers upon us, gloating o’er our grief,-- - Yet in the past we fain would live again, - Forgetting, for the gladness, all the pain. - - - II. - - So pass our years. It seems a little while - Since, with wild throbbings in my boyish heart, - I westward gazed from my own western isle, - And saw the white-winged messengers depart. - Ah! little thought I then that o’er the sea - Lived any one that should be dear to me. - - - III. - - Years fled--and other eyes were westward turned, - And I was on the bosom of the deep, - While strange emotions in my bosom burned-- - A sorrow that I thought would never sleep: - For all that I had loved on earth was gone,-- - Perhaps forever--and--I was alone; - - - IV. - - Save that I heard the dear familiar noise - Of the old ocean, and can well recall - The bliss, the awe, the love without a voice - With which I felt that great heart rise and fall, - Like some untamed and tameless “thing of life” - That frets for something worthy of its strife. - - - V. - - And then I was alone amid the din - Of ceaseless strugglers after wealth and power, - Content to hide the better soul within, - And pass in men’s applause a gaudy hour,-- - To act out well a something they are not,-- - To be admired and praised--despised, forgot. - - - VI. - - I was alone, but in my fancy grew - A fair ideal, fashioned from the best - And purest feelings that my spirit knew; - And this ideal was the goddess-guest - In my heart’s temple; but I sought not then - To find my goddess in the haunts of men. - - - VII. - - And yet I found her--all-personified - The goddess of my lonely-loving heart, - And--as an artist, when he stands beside - Some genius-fathered, beauteous child of art, - Worships it mutely, with enraptured gaze-- - My love was far too deep for words of praise. - - - VIII. - - But, ah! earth’s brightest joys are bought with pain: - Meeting with parting,--smiles with bitter tears,-- - Hope ends in sorrow,--loss succeeds to gain,-- - And youth’s gay spring-time leads to wintry years; - Nought lives that dies not in the world’s wide range, - And nothing is unchangeable but change. - - - IX. - - My bliss was o’er. I was again alone - Amid the scenes that I had learned to love - For her dear sake; but, ah! the charm was gone - From river-side and mountain-slope and grove-- - All, save the memory of happy hours - That lingered like the sweetness of dead flowers. - - - X. - - And as the ground on which a temple stood - Is holy, though the temple stand no more, - So river, mountain, waterfall and wood - Wore something of the sacredness they wore - When her loved presence blessed them, and her face - Made all around her smile with her sweet grace. - - - XI. - - And I am still alone, and years have fled, - And other scenes are ’round me, as I call - The past by Memory’s magic from the dead, - As Endor’s Sibyl brought the Seer to Saul. - (May _he_ not then have thought of that good time - When David’s music lulled his soul from crime?) - - - XII. - - And I, with more of bitterness than bliss, - The summoned years of my past life review, - Till Hope’s red lips with love pale Sorrow’s kiss, - And all things good and beautiful and true, - Start rainbow-like from Sorrow’s falling tears, - Spanning with hues of Heaven all my years. - - - XIII. - - And as I ope the temple of my heart - And seek its inmost and its holiest shrine, - Still there, my love, my darling one, thou art,-- - There still I worship thee and call thee mine; - And this sweet anthem all that temple fills-- - “Love cannot lose, ’tis loss of love that kills.” - - -[POSTSCRIPT.] - - XIV. - - What cry was that which woke me from my dream? - I stand upon my native, island shore, - And hear the startled curlews round me scream - O’er the mute cliffs that make the fierce waves roar; - I watch the “stately ships” go sailing by, - And wonder how my heart has learned to sigh. - - - XV. - - Ah! _that_ was but a dream. A summer’s eve - Breathes all its balmy blessings on my brow; - I feel as though the earth had got reprieve - From its death-sentence. See, the sun sets now-- - The blue of heaven grows gently dark above,-- - Below, blue eyes are growing dark with love. - - - XVI. - - _That_, too, was but a dream. What startled me? - The winds are making havoc ’mong the leaves - Of summer-time, and each once happy tree - For its lost darlings rocks itself and grieves. - The night is dark, the sky is thick with clouds-- - Kind frost-nymphs make the little leaves their shrouds! - - - - - WINTER. - - - Now lies Adonis in Prosérpine’s breast, - Who o’er him spreads a mantle lily white, - And every dryad, with disordered vest, - Teareth her hair for sorrow at the sight. - And ere he waketh, many an eye, now bright, - Shall deaden; many a rosy cheek shall pale; - O’er many a fair, young head shall rise the wail - Of those whom Death hath spoiled of their delight. - And, when, at touch of Spring, the winding sheet - That wraps thee now, Adonis, melts to flowers, - To deck thee for thy Queen; and sunny Hours, - Dancing around thee on their soft swift feet, - Sing “Wake, Adonis;” many a one shall weep - For those that in the Earth’s dark bosom sleep. - - - - - PER NOCTEM PLURIMA VOLVENS. - - - I. - - When the weary sun has ended his journey and descended, - By his own bright, golden pathway, to his mansion in the west, - And the sentry stars have taken the sky he has forsaken, - To watch till he awaken, bright and smiling, from his rest; - - - II. - - And the Moon is rising slowly with a light serene and holy, - The Queen of all the watchers, the sister of the Sun, - And hushed are all the noises from Earth’s unnumbered voices, - And the heart of sleep rejoices in the conquest he has won; - - - III. - - In the still, unbroken quiet, free from day’s unceasing riot, - I love to call around me the friends of long before, - And to fill my vacant places with the well-remembered graces - Of dear, old familiar faces that may smile for me no more. - - - IV. - - Some that shared my boyish pastime, as they seemed to me the last time - That I saw them, full of life and joy and hope that knew no bound, - But who now are sad and grieving, and have lost the gay believing - In the deeds of hope’s achieving, or--are laid beneath the ground;-- - - - V. - - Some, not merely friends for pleasure, but who cherished - friendship’s treasure - More than gold or worldly honour or gay fashion’s fickle smile, - Who would neither scorn nor flatter, who spoke honestly, no matter - How the world might grin and chatter, loving truth and hating guile;-- - - - VI. - - Some whose silvery hair seemed saintly, and whose eyes though - shining faintly, - Shed a tender lustre o’er me that will light me till the grave - That with all men I inherit takes my body, and my spirit, - Trusting in my Savour’s merit, has returned to God who gave;-- - - - VII. - - One, whom I have lost forever, but whom I will still endeavour - To deserve, though undeserving to have passed before her eyes, - For I know that while I love her, what is best and purest of her - Near me, through my life shall hover, like an angel from the skies;-- - - - VIII. - - These, by Fancy, great enchanter, called, into my presence enter, - When the Sun and Earth are sleeping and the Moon and Stars are bright, - And whatever past seemed pleasant I live over in the present, - And the cares of day are lessened by the magic of the night. - - - - - BALAAM. - - - While sleep had set its seal on many eyes, - Balaam, the Seer, was forth beneath the stars, - Whose beauty glimmered in Euphrates’ stream, - Gemming the mournful willows’ floating hair. - Behind him were the mountains of the east, - The dark-browed nurses of the blue-eyed founts, - Whose lone hearts were the life of Pethor-land. - Westward, beyond the river, was the waste, - O’er which, this second time, with priceless gifts, - Had come from Balak noble messengers; - And westward were the eyes of Balaam turned, - As one who waits for one who does not come, - While wild things came and passed unheeded by, - And the night wind, as with an angel’s harp, - Played lullaby to all the dreaming flowers. - And, gazing on the western sky, he saw - A picture, all whose forms were quick with life, - Where all was discord, hurrying to and fro, - As when two armies strive to gain the field; - For, from the outer realms of space, there came - Gigantic spearsmen, over whom there waved - Gay, many-coloured banners, and these flew, - Hither and thither, o’er the starry plain, - Pursuing and retreating; others came, - And others, till it seemed all Sabaoth - Had joined in conflict with the wicked one. - And then there was a change; banners and spears - Faded away, as fades away the reek - Above a hamlet on a frosty morn; - And none can tell when he sees last of it. - And, in a little while, there grew an arch, - Whose keystone was the zenith of the sky, - Like to a rainbow, joining east and west, - Beautiful, quivering, fearful, ominous, - Drawing the heart of Balaam after it. - And this, too, vanished, vapor-like, away; - And Balaam, though he waited its return, - Waited in vain; for warriors, and spears, - And banners, and the fiery flash of hosts - Embattled, and the mystic arch, were gone, - And came no more. - - And Balaam stood amazed - Long time, while thoughts, conflicting, tore his breast, - And barred all passage for his voice. - At length, - “Hath not the Highest, by this sign, declared - His purpose? I MUST GO!” he said, and then - Dark-boding terrors shook him and the strain - That held his face rapt westward, all relaxed - By speech, he felt as one, who, in a dream, - Stands on a steep cliff, by the greedy sea, - While ruthless foes pursue him. - “I MUST GO!” - He said, and from ten thousand horrid throats - There seemed to come a mocking answer, “Go!” - And o’er him came a shiver, as a lake - Shivers beneath the burden of a breeze. - And then there came a whisper to his ear, - “Balaam, God’s prophet! go not with these men! - Puttest thou Balak’s honour above His - Who chose thee to declare His will to men? - Go, and thou art undone! God doth not lie!” - Then Balaam, as in answer to a friend: - “There came across the desert lordly men - From Moab and from Midian, who besought, - With many prayers and noble gifts, that I, - Balaam, the Seer, would go with them and curse - A people who were terrible in war-- - To whom the strength of Moab was as grass - Before the oxen, feeding on the plains-- - If, haply, I might crush them with a curse! - These prayed I to abide with me all night, - Till I should learn the purpose of the Lord-- - And, in a dream, God warned me not to go; - And so they went away ungratified. - Then came these princes with more precious gifts, - And still more precious promises, who said, - ‘Balak, our lord, hath sent us unto thee, - And prayeth thee to come. He will promote - Thee and thy house to honour; and all boons, - Whate’er thou askest, he will freely give.’ - And I replied, ‘If Balak’s house were full - Of gold and silver, and he made it mine, - Or more or less than God commandeth me, - I could not do. But tarry here to-night, - And I will hear the answer of the Lord.’ - And then God sent a sign, the like of which - I, who know all the faces of the night, - And am familiar with all stars that shine - Over the hills and plains of Pethor-land, - Have never seen before, a sign which said: - ‘Balaam, if these men call thee, rise and go.’ - Or more or less than God commandeth me - I cannot do. Am I in this to blame?” - And then the wind came sweeping down the hills, - And Balaam heard again the mocking cry, - “If these man call thee, Balaam, rise and go.” - And though he shuddered, all his face grew dark - And knotted, as he said, “God doth not lie, - But--doth God mock? Hath he not sent a sign - To me, who have the power of reading signs, - His own high gift? And now--and now, O God! - If thou wouldst send me yet another sign--!” - And here the whisper of the still, small voice - Came back, “O, Balaam! wretched is their fate, - Who, knowing good from evil, choose not good, - Or suffer evil, howsoever fair, - To make the good less lovely in their eyes! - Full well thou knowest that thy heart is set - More on the gold of Balak than God’s will. - God doth not mock. ’Tis thou that mockest Him, - Coming into His presence, full of lust, - And seeking for a sign. If thou wert pure - No sign were needed. Being as thou art, - Wert thou to offer up the land’s whole wealth, - Oxen and rams, and corn, and wine, and oil, - And all the first-born of thy kings, no sign - Would purge thee of those sordid dreams that drag - Thy soul from God to hell! - It is not yet too late, - Perhaps, and but perhaps! - O, Balaam, rouse thee! - Thou art, e’en yet, God’s prophet! He has shewn - His will to none more clearly than to thee. - What is it He requireth at thy hands? - Be true and honest, pure and merciful, - Having thy heart aflame with faith and love, - Still walking humbly, as though prone to fall-- - Guarding thine eyes from covetous wanderings, - Deeming God’s gifts more beautiful than man’s-- - And he will keep thee right in all thy ways. - Oh! what is Balak’s honour, Balak’s gold, - To Balaam, if the Highest be his friend, - Who owns the wealth and beauty of the world? - Balaam, if these men call thee, do not go.” - And Balaam bowed himself unto the ground, - And lay upon his face in misery; - And in his heart an awful battle raged, - Where evil fought with good. Longtime he lay, - As one entranced, all motionless, but full, - Through every nerve, of wakeful, painful life. - And then he rose, as from his grave, so pale - And wild his visage; and he looked again, - Along the waste, towards the western sky, - But saw no sign, save that the stars grew dim, - And some were gone; and, even as he looked, - He seemed to hear from all the waking earth, - Borne through the gloaming on the mountain wind, - The words he loved and longed for and yet loathed, - “Balaam, if these men call thee, rise and go.” - - And once again a shudder shook his frame; - And once again he bowed him to the earth, - And lay upon his face in misery, - Until, from weariness, he fell asleep. - - And as he slept, he dreamed he was a child - And heard sweet music, soft as is the breeze - That steals through corn-fields on a summer’s day, - And makes the flowers kiss sweetly, and the leaves - On every tree grow tremulous for joy. - - And then there came a noble, swelling strain, - Like the grand chorus of victorious hosts - That still march on to victory; and he heard, - And was a man, with men--a king of men, - With crown of inspiration on his brow. - Around him thronged the chiefs of Pethor-land - And others, from afar, who came to hear - The wisdom God had given to his lips. - But he was still as humble as the child - That played of yore amid the flowers, and drew - From their sweet breath the beauty of the good. - And as he spoke, they listened to his words - As to an angel’s: for his words were wise, - Wiser than all the wisdom of the East. - - Then came a discord, as a sound of waves - That dash against tall rocks, while drowning men - Try vainly to be heard. And Balaam grew - Proud with the pride of vain and worldly men, - And thought within his heart how great he was, - Forgetting who had made him wise and great; - And thought of all the homage and the gifts - Yielded to him by princes of all lands, - Till his heart turned to evil more than good. - - Then came a sound of battle and wild cries, - The blare of trumpets, and the clash of swords, - And the fierce neigh of war-steeds, and the groans - Of dying men,--and Balaam lay with these, - Far from the hills and streams of Pethor-land. - And, as he lay, he heard an awful voice, - High o’er the din of battle, and the words, - “If these men call thee, Balaam, rise and go.” - And Balaam woke; and on the Eastern hills - Beheld the ruddy blossom of the day - Bursting from out the sapphire of the sky; - And all the earth looked pure as when it rose, - At first, in beauty, from the primal sea, - And all the heavenly hosts sang songs of joy. - - But still the night lingered in Balaam’s soul, - And all the pleasant voices of the morn, - With which, erstwhile, he joined in hymns of praise, - Were buried, as all hues are lost in black, - In the dark horrors of one fatal cry, - “If these men call thee, Balaam, rise and go.” - - And fainter was the whisper than before, - And Balaam heard it not, or heeded not, - As with slow steps--as one who walks in chains-- - And head bowed low upon his breast, he moved - Homeward to where the princes waited him. - - And Balaam told them not of sign or dream, - But only made him ready for the road. - And ere the sun was half-way up the sky, - Both he and they were far upon the waste - That stretched towards Moab,--and he nevermore - Beheld the hills and streams of Pethor-land. - - - - - GOOD NIGHT. - - - I. - - Good night! God bless thee, love, wherever thou art, - And keep thee, like an infant, in His arms! - And all good messengers that move unseen - By eye sin-darkened, and on noiseless wings - Carry glad tidings to the doors of sleep, - Touch all thy tears to pearls of heavenly joy. - Oh! I am very lonely, missing thee; - Yet, morning, noon, and night, sweet memories - Are nestling round thy name within my heart, - Like summer birds in frozen winter woods. - Good night! _Good night!_ oh, for the mutual word! - Oh, for the loving pressure of thy hand! - Oh, for the tender parting of thine eyes! - God bless thee, love, wherever thou art! Good night. - - - II. - - Good night, my love! Another day has brought - Its load of grief and stowed it in my heart, - So full already, Joy is crushed to death, - And Hope stands mute and shivering at the door. - Still Memory, kind angel, stays within, - And will not leave me with my grief alone, - But whispers of the happy days that were - Made glorious by the light of thy pure eyes. - Oh! shall I ever see thee, love, again, - My own, my darling, my soul’s best beloved, - Far more than I had ever hoped to find - Of true and good and beautiful on earth? - Oh! shall I _never_ see thee, love, again? - My treasure found and loved and lost, good night. - - - III. - - Good night, my love! Without, the wintry winds - Make the night sadly vocal; and within, - The hours that danced along so full of joy, - Like skeletons have come from out their graves, - And sit beside me at my lonely fire,-- - Guests grim but welcome, which my fancy decks, - In all the beauty that was theirs when thou - Didst look and breathe and whisper softly on them. - So do they come and sit, night after night, - Talking to me of thee till I forget - That they are mere illusions and the past - Is gone forever. They have vanished now, - And I am all alone, and thou art--where? - My love, good angels bear thee my good night! - - - - - WINTER SUNSHINE. - - - The “Miserere” of the wintry earth - Went up to Heaven on the wings of air-- - I heard it, sitting by my lonely hearth-- - An awful music; sighs and moans of prayer, - The anguish human words could never bear - Into God’s ear, the agony whose birth - The soul hides from itself were mingled there - With the fierce undertones of frantic mirth. - Then came a hush, and suddenly the floor - Was carpeted with sunshine, living gold, - That filled the heart with summer; Heaven’s door - Was touched and opened, and at once there rolled, - In strains of sweetest music from above, - Back to the earth an answer, “God is Love!” - - - - - CHRISTUS SALVATOR. - - - I. - - C horo sancto nunciatus, - H omo, Deus Increatus, - R egum, Rex, Puellâ natus, - I n ignaris habitat; - S umit vilem carnis vestem, - T radens Gloriam Cœlestem - U t dispellat culpæ pestem, - S atanamque subigat. - - - II. - - S urgit Stella prophetarum, - A dest Victor tenebrarum, - L umen omnium terrarum, - V ia, Vita, Veritas. - A nimas illuminavit, - T enebrarum vim fugavit, - O ras Cœlicas monstravit - R edemptoris Claritas. - - CHRISTMAS, 1864. - - - - - DEW. - -“Who hath begotten the drops of dew?”--JOB xxxviii, 28. - - - I. - - Who hath begotten the drops of dew? - Tell, if you can, the tale of their birth; - Have the stars from Heaven come down to woo - The flowers, the beautiful daughters of earth? - - - II. - - Who hath begotten the drops of dew? - Have angels open’d the pearly doors, - And, leaving their streets of golden hue, - Blest with their footsteps our grassy floors? - - - III. - - Who hath begotten the drops of dew? - Doth not each orb in its bosom bear - Ruby and topaz and sapphire blue, - And all the colours that angels wear? - - - IV. - - Who hath begotten the drops of dew? - Are they the tears of the saints above, - Returned to visit the scenes they knew, - And to weep and pray for some earthly love? - - - V. - - Who hath begotten the drops of dew? - Who, the good that in all things lies? - Who, the primal beauty that grew - Into myriad forms in Paradise? - - - VI. - - Who hath begotten the drops of dew? - Tell, if you can, the tale of their birth; - Are they not, children of men, with you, - Sons of the Lord of _Heaven_ and _Earth_? - - - - - THALATTA! THALATTA! - - - I. - - In my ear is the moan of the pines--in my heart is the song of the sea, - And I feel his salt breath on my face as he showers his kisses on me, - And I hear the wild scream of the gulls, as they answer the call - of the tide, - And I watch the fair sails as they glisten like gems on the - breast of a bride. - - - II. - - From the rock where I stand to the sun is a pathway of sapphire and gold, - Like a waif of those Patmian visions that wrapt the lone seer of old, - And it seems to my soul like an omen that calls me far over the sea-- - But I think of a little white cottage and one that is dearest to me. - - - III. - - Westward ho! Far away to the East is a cottage that looks to the shore-- - Though each drop in the sea were a tear, as it was, I can see it no more; - For the heart of its pride with the flowers of the “Vale of the Shadow” - reclines, - And--hushed is the song of the sea and hoarse is the moan of the pines. - - - - - RIZPAH. - - (2 SAMUEL xxi. 10.) - - - It is growing dark. - At such a sunset I have been with Saul-- - But saw it not. I only saw his eyes - And the wild beauty of his roaming locks, - And--Oh! there never was a man like Saul! - Strong arm, and gentle heart and tender ways - To win a woman’s very soul, were his. - When he would take my hand and look on me, - And whisper “Rizpah”--Ah! those days are gone! - Why should I weep? was I not loved by Saul? - And Saul was king of all the Land of God. - - “God save the king!” But, hush! what noise was that? - Oh heaven! to think a mother’s eyes should look - On such a sight! Away! vile carrion-beast! - Those are the sons of Saul,--poor Rizpah’s sons. - O my dead darlings! O my only joy! - O sweet twin treasure of my lonely life, - Since that most mournful day upon Gilboa, - Torn from me thus! - I have no tears to shed. - O God! my heart is broken! Let me die! - - * * * * * - - Gilboa! David wrote a song on it, - And had it put in _Jasher_--“Weep for Saul.” - Armoni used to sing it to his harp. - Poor blackened lips!······ - ······I wonder if they dream, - My pretty children······ - ······Come, Mephibosheth, - Here is your father; say “God save the king!” - The Gibeonites! Ah! that was long ago. - Why should they die for what they never did? - No; David never would consent to that! - - * * * * * - - Whose son is he, this youth? Dost know him, Abner? - Ha, ha! they shout again “God save the king.” - - * * * * * - - Was I asleep? I came not here to sleep. - O poor old eyes, sorrow has made you weak. - My sons! No, nought has touched them. O, how cold! - Cold, cold! O stars of God, have pity on me, - Poor lonely woman! O my sons, Saul’s sons! - Kind stars, watch with me; let no evil beast - Rend that dear flesh. O God of Israel, - Pardon my sins! My heart is broken! - - - - - NATALIE. - - - I. - - Such a pretty, siren face - Thine was, Natalie! - Such a merry, winning grace - Drew my heart to thee, - In those distant, happy days - When thy heart was free. - - - II. - - Fearless then we gathered joy, - Not a care had we, - Happier girl and happier boy - Well there could not be; - In our bliss was no alloy, - Playmate, Natalie. - - - III. - - Time is cruel. Thou and I - Parted, Natalie! - And thy kissed lips said “Good bye! - Surely write to me.” - Thou wast then too young to sigh, - Little Natalie! - - - IV. - - One day, after years had flown, - Something came to me, - ’Twas a portrait of my own - Playmate, Natalie,-- - Natalie,--but not my own, - Never mine to be! - - - V. - - There she sat, so lovely grown, - Like a queen to see,-- - There she sat--but not alone,-- - With her--who is he? - So my boyish dream has flown, - Faithless Natalie! - - - VI. - - In my heart there is a place - Still for Natalie! - For the pretty, siren face, - For the sweetly, winning ways, - That were dear to me, - In those happy far-off days, - When her heart was free. - - - - - THE FENIAN RAID. - - _June, 1866._ - - - I. - - The breath of the south wind was laden with woe - As it moaned to the Northland “Prepare for the foe!” - And the Northland was silent a moment, and then - There was hieing and arming and marching of men. - - - II. - - To the front! There’s a struggle--the crisis is past! - The foemen are flying! woe, woe to the last! - There’s a hush, only stirred by the zephyr of peace, - Wafting thanks to the God who makes fighting to cease. - - - III. - - But, oh! with the voice of that zephyr a cry - Strives up after justice that seemeth to fly - From the nations of earth.--O our God have regard - To that cry; let the cause of the injured be heard! - - - IV. - - From the blood of the true, the unselfish, the brave, - From the women and children they perished to save, - Goes a cry that no sound of rejoicing can still: - “Judge between us and those who have sanctioned this ill.” - - - - - _Humanum est errare, Divinum condonare._ - - - ’Tis easy to cry “Raca”[B] from within - Cold, passionless morality’s strong tower, - To those who struggle fiercely, hour by hour, - ’Gainst grim Goliaths of unconquered sin. - - ’Tis easy, safely far from battle’s din, - To wave a sword or raise a banner high - To those who have to fight each inch, or--die; - Who must be wounded, even if they win. - - ’Tis easy to point clean, weak hands of scorn - When some much-tempted brother falls or flies; - Or some sweet Eve has strayed from Paradise - Into the outer world of briar and thorn. - - But in the great, high council of the skies - There’s One who reads men’s hearts with milder eyes. - - [B] St. Matthew’s Gospel v. 22. - - - - - SING ME THE SONGS I LOVE. - - - Sing me the songs I love once more, - The songs your lips have made so dear, - For many a day must pass before - Again your music fills my ear. - And when you are no longer near, - I’ll in my loneliness rejoice, - Deep in my inmost heart, to hear - The gentle music of your voice. - - ’Tis not in words that friendship lies, - E’en when those words in music move, - But words have power that never dies, - When said or sung by those we love. - So when in weariness I rove - Through the world’s desert, seeking rest, - The memory of your songs shall prove - A solace to my lonely breast. - - And when you sing those songs again, - For gayer hearts and brighter eyes, - And thinking upon “now” as “_then_,” - Memories of other days arise, - Believe that none more dearly prize - The strains your lips so sweetly pour, - Than he who asked ’neath other skies, - “Sing me the songs I love once more.” - - - - - IN MEMORIAM. - - - He is dead! and what words can we say that will tell half the sorrow - we know; - He is murdered! and mutters for vengeance are mingled with wailings - of woe; - He is gone! and the voice that thrilled thousands, like music, forever - is hushed; - He lies bleeding! and with him the heart of the nation lies bleeding - and crushed! - - Ah! yes, he is gone! The pure stars that lighted him home to his rest, - Saw his blood as he lay there, a martyr, his hand to a motionless breast; - And the wings of the angels that quivered a moment before with his words, - Flashed again--“He is dead,” and the souls of the waking were pierced - as with swords. - - Hardly strange doth it seem that the Springtime refuseth this morn to - be gay, - And covers her eyes with a veil, and putteth her garlands away, - For she feels that the heart of a prophet of man and of nature is still, - And she hideth her flowers in her bosom and cannot be gay, if she will! - - O Canada, weep, ’twas for thee that he spoke the last words of his - life! - Weep, Erin, his blood has been shed in the healing of wounds of thy - strife! - Weep, Scotia, no son of thy soil held thy mountains and valleys more - dear! - Weep, England, thy brave, honest eyes never glistened with worthier tear! - - He was true to himself, to his faith, to the lands of his birth and - his choice; - He was true, when, a boy, he obeyed, as he deemed it, a patriot voice; - He was true, as a man, to the light gained by years, spite of slanderous - breath; - He was true, as the champion of peace, amid foes, under ban, _unto death_! - - “Had he faults?” men will ask. Who is faultless? How many there are who - redeem - Not the faults that they have by one virtue to make them a shield of - esteem, - But lie evermore all content in their grave of misdoing; but he - Sent a light through his life that makes glorious for ever the - name of MCGEE. - - APRIL 7th, 1868. - - - - - KILLYNOOGAN. - - - I. - - Killynoogan,--hallowed name,-- - Though thou’rt little known to fame, - My heart’s homage thou dost claim. - - - II. - - Though to stranger ears thou be - But a word of mystery, - Meaning deep thou hast for me. - - - III. - - All thy quaint old masonry - Now before my eyes I see, - As, of old, it used to be. - - - IV. - - Ah! too well I can recall - Every stone in every wall,-- - In my heart I count them all. - - - V. - - And the lawn before the door, - I can see it as of yore, - Bright with daisies spangled o’er. - - - VI. - - And the hedge, along whose side, - Oft, in childhood, I have tried - To escape, when playing “Hide.” - - - VII. - - And the miniature wood, - Where in boyhood I have sued - Coyish maiden, Solitude. - - - VIII. - - And the garden full of flowers, - Where I’ve past romantic hours, - Dreaming of fair ladies’ bowers. - - - IX. - - In the orchard, stretched at ease, - On the grass, I hear the breeze - Piping ’mong the apple trees. - - - X. - - While from many a leafy nook, - Grave as parson at his book, - Rook replieth unto rook. - - - XI. - - I can hear the river’s flow - As it murmurs, soft and low, - Bringing news from Pettigo. - - - XII. - - I can watch it to the mill, - Where the never-tiring wheel - Dances round and drinks its fill. - - - XIII. - - Past the ever-bubbling “spa,” - Past the castle of Magra, - Razed by Cromwell’s cruel law, - - - XIV. - - On it goes with many a turn, - Playing with its fringe of fern, - Till it touches broad Lough Erne. - - - XV. - - Here I leave thee, little stream, - Lost, like much I dearest deem, - In my life’s oft-shifting dream. - - - XVI. - - Lost! but let me backward haste, - I have little time to waste - In my ramble through the past. - - - XVII. - - Words are cumbersome, at times, - Thought could visit fifty climes, - While I’m seeking useless rhymes. - - - XVIII. - - I am back upon the lawn, - That I’ve often stood upon, - But--is every body gone? - - - XIX. - - Knock,--is any one within? - Not a sound, except the din - Of the mice,--they must be thin. - - - XX. - - Look along the avenue, - Is there any one in view? - Surely, this cannòt be true? - - - XXI. - - Put your ear upon the ground! - Listen! Is there any sound? - Every thing is hushed around. - - - XXII. - - Oh! I dream! I might have known; - _I_ have wandered,--_they_ are gone, - And of _four_ remains but _one_. - - - XXIII. - - Two were young and two were old; - _Three_ are lying stark and cold - In death’s rigid, icy fold. - - - XXIV. - - Dear old Killynoogan, thee, - Once so full of life and glee, - Lifeless, desolate, I see! - - - XXV. - - But, beloved and sacred spot, - Nought of thee shall be forgot, - Till what I am now--is not. - - - - - “What can I do that others have not done? - What can I think that others have not thought? - What can I teach that others have not taught? - What can I win that others have not won? - What is there left for me beneath the sun? - My labour seems so useless, all I try - I weary of, before ’tis well begun; - I scorn to grovel and I cannot fly.” - - “Hush! hush! repining heart! there’s One whose eye - Esteems each honest thought and act and word - Noble as poet’s songs or patriot’s sword. - Be true to Him: He will not pass thee by. - He may not ask thee ’mid His stars to shine, - And yet He needeth thee; His work is thine.” - - - - - HASTINGS. - - _October 14th, 1066._ - - - I. - - October’s woods are bright and gay, a thousand colours vie - To win the golden smiles the Sun sends gleaming thro’ the sky; - And tho’ the flowers are dead and gone, one garden seems the earth, - For, in God’s world, as one charm dies, another starts to birth. - - - II. - - To every season is its own peculiar beauty given, - In every age of mortal men we see the Hand of Heaven; - And century to century utters a glorious speech, - And peace to war, and war to peace, eternal lessons teach. - - - III. - - O grand, old woods, your forest-sires were thus as bright and gay, - Before the axe’s murderous voice had spoiled their sylvan play; - When other axes smote our sires and laid them stiff and low, - On Hastings’ unforgotten field, _eight hundred years ago_. - - - IV. - - Eight hundred years ago, long years, before Jacques Cartier clomb - The Royal Height, where now no more the red men fearless roam! - Eight hundred years ago, long years before Columbus came - From stately Spain to find the world that ought to bear his name! - - - V. - - The Sussex woods were bright and red on that October morn; - And Sussex soil was red with blood before the next was born; - But from that red united clay another race did start - On the great stage of destiny to act a noble part. - - - VI. - - So God doth mould, as pleaseth Him, the nations of His choice; - Now, in the battle-cry is heard His purifying voice; - And now with Orphic strains of peace He draws to nationhood - The scattered tribes that dwell apart by mountain, sea and wood. - - - VII. - - He took the lonely, poet Celt and taught him Roman lore, - Then from the wealds of Saxony He brought the sons of Thor; - Next from his craggy home the Dane came riding o’er the sea, - And last, came William with his bands of Norman chivalry. - - - VIII. - - And now as our young nationhood is struggling into birth, - God grant its infant pulse may beat with our fore-fathers’ worth! - And as we gather into _one_, let us recall with pride - That we are of the blood of those who fought where Harold died. - - OCTOBER, 1866. - - - - - THE NAUGHTY BOY. - - (_From H. C. Andersen’s Tales._) - - - A good old poet sat by his hearth, - While the wind and rain were raging abroad; - And he thought of the poor who roamed thro’ the earth - Without a home or friend but God, - While he was as snug as he could desire, - Roasting his apples before the fire. - - And just with the thought came a voice outside: - “O pray, let me in, I am wet and cold.” - In a second the door has been opened wide, - And there standeth a boy with ringlets of gold. - “Come in, my boy, there is warmth for thee here; - Come in and take share of my frugal cheer.” - - So the boy came in, and in spite of the storm - A cherub he seemed who had come from the skies, - With his curly locks and his graceful form, - And the sparkling beauty that lit his eyes; - But the bow that he bore was so spoilt with the rain, - One would say he could never have used it again. - - Then the good old poet nursed the boy, - And dried him and warmed him and gave him wine, - And his heart grew glad, and the spirit of joy - Frolicked and danced o’er his face divine; - “Light of heart thou seemest, and light of head, - Pray, what is thy name?” the old poet said. - - “My name is Love; dost thou know me not? - Look, yonder my bow and my arrows lie, - And I’d have you beware. I’m a capital shot.” - “But your bow is spoilt.” “Never mind; I’ll try.” - And he bent his bow, and he aimed a dart, - And the good old poet was shot thro’ the heart. - - And he fell from his chair, and he wept full sore: - “Is this my reward for my apples and wine?” - But the Naughty Boy could be seen no more; - He was forth again, for the night grew fine. - “Bah! I’ll warn all the boys and the girls I know, - If they play with this Love, they’ll have nothing but woe.” - - So the good old poet he did his best - To make others beware of a fate like his; - And he shewed them the arrow that pierced his breast: - “Now you see what a terrible boy he is!” - But an archer, who’s never two moment’s the same, - Like Proteus, it’s hard to keep clear of his aim! - - - - - ROSA. - - - Thou art gone, sweet love, to take thy rest, - Like a weary child on thy mother’s breast; - And thou hearest not, in thy calm deep sleep, - The voices of those that around thee weep. - - Thou art gone where the weary find a home, - Where sickness and sorrow can never come; - A flower too fair for earthly skies, - Thou art gone to bloom in Paradise. - - Thou art gone, and I hear not thy gladsome tone, - But my heart is still beating “_alone, alone_,”-- - Yet often in dreams do I hear a strain - As of angels bearing thee back again. - - Thou art gone, and the world may not miss thee long, - For thou didst not care for its idle throng; - But this fond bosom, in silent woe, - Shall carry thine image wherever I go. - - Thou art gone, thou art gone! Shall we meet no more - By the sandy hill or the winding shore? - Or watch as the crested billows rise, - And the frightened curlew startling cries? - - Thou art gone, but oh! in that land of peace - Where sin, and sorrow and anguish cease, - Where all is happy and bright and fair, - My own sweet love, may I meet thee there? - - MARCH, 1857. - - - - - JUBAL. - - (Book of Genesis iv. 21.) - - - The Sun soon kissed to flowers, the blood-stained sod, - From which the voice of Abel cried to God, - And drove his murderer to the land of Nod; - - And smiling, kindly watched them day by day, - Till they, like Abel, died and passed away, - And other flowers grew bright above their clay. - - While with impartial kindness, year by year, - He kissed from Cain’s curs’d face the awful tear - That flowed when that dread voice appalled his ear. - - Still as at night the silent woods are stirred - By the lone calling of some mateless bird, - Ever that voice in Cain’s sad heart was heard. - - But busy hands for good or bad are best - To still the aching voices of the breast, - And load the body with the soul’s unrest. - - So, tow’rds the Sun the City Enoch rose, - Beneath Cain’s hands, as in the desert grows - A palm whose shade the tawny outcast knows. - - The City Enoch! from the first-born named - Of the first-born of woman, son of blood! - Built long ere Babel’s boastful tower was shamed, - Earth’s lonely capital before the flood! - - The City Enoch! here were sown and grew - The seeds of Art when Art and life were long; - Here Lamech turned his misery to song, - Hence Jabal journeyed, seeking pastures new! - - Here man’s soft hand made brass and iron yield - To cunning shapes and uses,--wondrous skill! - Tearing earth’s iron heart with iron will, - To see what secrets in it lay concealed! - - And here, O music, like a dream of heaven, - Thy subtle thrills did touch the wearied brain, - With raptured, passionate longing to regain - The bliss of having naught to be forgiven! - - Let me in fancy see thee rise again - O city of the Wanderer, seldom sought! - City of that wise Jubal who first taught - The harp and organ to the sons of men! - - That I may learn the secret of his might, - Who, leaving earth unto his brother’s care, - Did gentle battle with the powers of air, - And made them his and ours by victor’s right! - - Adah, the first-beloved of Lamech’s wives, - Bare him two sons. Jabal, the eldest-born, - Grew up to manhood, strong and bold and free; - And leaving Enoch, sought a boundless home, - Living in tents, a king amid his flocks, - Setting his throne where’er his subjects thrived, - Lord, or allowed vicegerent under God, - Unto the “cattle on a thousand hills.” - - But Jubal, wise and gentle, ’tis for thee - That we would raise to life the giant shades - That lived and loved, and sinned and wept and died - Ere Heaven’s great tears had washed away the crime - That stained the beauty of the early earth; - And Enoch, mistress of primeval Art, - Lay, the dead mistress of a drownèd world. - - What was thy year, thy month, thy day of birth, - That we may mark it in our Calendar, - “On this day, in a year before the Flood, - Jubal was born, Inventor of the Harp?” - Where shall we seek this knowledge? Of the stars? - ’Tis said by some our hearts and brains depend - Upon the union in their mystic dance - They happen to be forming at the hour - When we are born. Then we shall ask the stars. - For they may recollect the year and hour - They formed that wondrous figure when the power - Of music touched the soul of man - For the first time, and if they can, - ’Twas then that Jubal’s life began! - - Sibyl-stars, that sing the chorus - Of the life that lies before us - As we open mortal eyes! - Strange phrenologists of Heaven, - That infuse the spirit-leaven - Into nascent, infant brains, - That can make them dull or wise, - Forging subtle mental chains - That must bind us until death, - As ye calmly glitter o’er us, - When we draw our primal breath! - Mixing qualities together, - Just according to the weather, - Just according to the season, - And the point of daily time, - Noon or even, night or morn, - That we happen to be born, - For some sage, sidereal reason, - Which some sophomores call “chance,” - Some the “force of circumstance!” - Tell, O fatal stars, sublime, - What the swelling of the chime - Into which you wove your dance, - What the day and what the hour, - Was so happy as to dower - Earth with Music’s heavenly power! - - Tell the day of Jubal’s birth, - Day of Jubilee to earth. - - Was the “music of the spheres” - Audible to mortal ears? - Did the winds of Heaven sing - Till the forests clapped their hands? - Did the ocean, heralding, - Bear the tidings to all lands, - Whispering, “Rejoice, rejoice,” - Till the earth, unprisoning - All her sounds, became a Voice? - As the soaring of his wing - When the distant eagle moves, - Wakes to life the silent groves, - At the coming of their king! - Sibyl-stars, was this the way - That Earth greeted Jubal’s day? - - In those far shadowy years before the Flood - Jubal was born, and this is all we know; - Born in the land where Cain, in solitude - And occupation sought to hide his woe - Born with a gift, well-used, of sin the foe, - A heaven-sent harbinger of promised good. - - Oh! was not Adah happy in her boy? - Oh! who could tell the secret of her joy, - When, with a mother’s love, she pierced the veil - That childhood draws round genius, lest it fail - In its high aim, by adulation fed, - And only feel the poison, when ’tis dead? - - And Lamech, first of bards, whose kindred art - Would welcome her sweet sister, watched his son - As day by day he saw the promise start - Towards accomplishment. Yet neither one, - Father nor mother, knew as yet the prize - For which they waited with such anxious eyes. - - They saw that he was not of common mould: - His quiet thoughtfulness, his pensive ways, - His listening oft as to a story told, - With side-turned head, and distant, earnest gaze, - Told of some god-like purpose in his brain, - Though what it was they asked themselves in vain. - So Jubal grew in those far, shadowy years - Before the Flood; and so the music grew - Within his soul. The common air to him - Was as a constant feast; its slightest touch - Was joy to which all other joy was pain. - The first sensations of his infancy - Were blent with it. His mother’s tender sighs,-- - Half sighs, half laughter,--as she looked on him, - Wondering what sort of man he should become, - Were like the breath of angels to his ear; - And when his father’s mighty voice came forth, - Majestic, through its bearded doors, he hushed - The tremulous beatings of his heart to hear. - And when his brother Jabal went away, - And there were sounds of sorrow in his home, - (And he wept too, though hardly knowing why) - He treasured up the sounds as precious things, - Until they seemed a portion of his life. - - So did he gather all the tones of love - And joy and grief, by strange instinctive power; - And by and by, how anger wounds the air, - And all the passions of the fallen heart - That Satan hissed into the ear of Eve, - He sadly learned; and yet with balanced sense, - His great, high gift, he traced through all the tones - The woman struggling with her serpent-foe, - And desperate yearnings for lost innocence. - - But most he joyed to listen to the words - Of happy children, respited a while, - From fearful looking to the day of death; - And it was Jubal’s chief delight to wed - Their gladsome voices with the Eden notes - To which the first sweet marriage-hymn was set-- - The silver-throated wooing of the birds-- - The trilling of the zephyr-courted leaves-- - The merry-hearted laughter of the brooks-- - The multitudinous hum of joyous life-- - The weird lullaby that Nature sings - Unto the darlings fondled in her lap, - Loving but helpless, and their low response; - And all the vocal charms of summer time, - That wrap the soul in dreamy, languid bliss. - - All gentle sounds nestled within his heart, - But not alone (though these he loved the most) - Were gentle sounds the study of the boy. - The mournful requiem of the dying leaves,-- - The piping gales that make the forest dance,-- - The tempest’s rage, to which the pine and oak - Are but as playthings to an angry child: - The rain, the whirlwind and the thundercrash,-- - The mountain torrent, “the vexed ocean’s roar,”-- - The noisy lapping of the tongues of fire,-- - The howl of hungry, ravenous beasts of prey,-- - All that is sad or mad in Nature’s voice,-- - All that reminds us of the awful words - That pierced the fancied hiding place of sin, - Ere yet the curse descended,--these he knew. - For, in those giant days before the Flood, - Nature and man were ever face to face, - Till Art grew, Nature’s image, in man’s heart. - - So Jubal revelled in all sweet, grand sounds, - A seeming spendthrift, but with miser craft, - Locking his airy jewels in the casket - Of lovingest remembrance,--till the boy - Dreamed himself into manhood. - - Then there weighed - Upon his brain the burden of a thought,-- - To bring to life the music that his soul - Had gathered from the music of the world,-- - To make, by cunning union, every tone - Of its great voice obedient to his will. - And so he planned, awake, and, sleeping, dreamed - Of this, his one idea; till at last - ’Neath his creative hand the “Harp” was born. - And then he planned again, for life was long - In those far, shadowy years before the Flood, - Until the “Organ,” in its mighty heart, - Echoed the throbbings of the heart of man. - - - - - APOLLO DROPT A SEED OF SONG. - - - I. - - Apollo dropt a seed of song - Into my heart one day, - And, smiling godlike, passed along - Upon his heavenly way. - - - II. - - I saw him make his golden arc, - For many a weary day, - But still the little seedling, dark - Lay hid beneath the clay. - - - III. - - But gentle eyes, one joyous hour, - Shone where my seedling lay,-- - O Love, tend well thy little flower, - And let it not decay. - - - - - VOX DEI. - - - The beauteous pyramid of harmless flame - Spelled G O D for Moses; but the thundered law - Was needed for the wild, unruly crowd. - - The awful test of swift-consuming fire - Alone shewed Baal false to Baal’s friends; - The “still, small voice” touched lone Elijah’s heart. - - So God speaks variously to various men: - To some in nature’s sternest parables; - To others, in the breath that woos the flowers, - Until they blush and pale, and blush again. - - To _these_ the Decalogue were just as true - If uttered on a summer Sabbath-day - In village church--to _those_ there is no God, - Till fiery rain has scarred the face of earth. - - - - - THE OLD WAR-HORSE. - - - I. - - He paweth no more in the field, - Where glitter the spear and the shield; - Nor heareth the thunder of war, - Nor smelleth the battle afar; - In his eyes is no glory of gleam, - And his strength is the strength of a dream. - - - II. - - He never turned back from the sword, - When the pride of the land was his lord, - Yet his neck is bowed meekly--the brave - Can be meek, aye, as meek as a slave,-- - And he works near the dark of his day,-- - ’Twas _his_ pride (he was taught) to obey. - - - III. - - In the gloaming of life his old eyes - May see visions of glory arise; - Who knows but within his old heart - May thousands of memories start - Of the march and the drum and the fife, - Of the charge and the cry and the strife? - - - IV. - - Who can tell? But, hark! once again - He hears, as in whispers the strain - Of that long-ago hid in his blood; - It comes nearer; he paweth the mud - Of the street, and his sinews rejoice, - And he hears not his slave-master’s voice! - - - V. - - Though his form no gay war-trappings deck, - The thunder returns to his neck; - Ha! ha! he is free! for the sound - Of the trumpet his soul has unbound! - He is off! not a pause, till he comes - To the midst of the din of the drums. - - - VI. - - He has taken his place, as of yore, - He is marching to battle once more; - They may mock him as haggard and thin, - They may laugh at the marks on his skin, - But naught recks he; the master he bore, - _His_ name may well cover them o’er. - - - VII. - - The music is hushed; the array - Of the soldiers has vanished away; - The old charger, poor fellow, elate - No longer, returns to his fate; - And the light of his eyes has burned low, - And his paces are feeble and slow. - - * * * * * - - - VIII. - - He has heard his last call to parade - From the trumpet of death and obeyed; - And the brave soldier-steed from all harness is freed - Evermore, and his sleep - Is so placid and deep, - He needs fear no awakening. Rest to his shade! - - * * * * * - - - - IX. - - There are men, there are women who toil - At the mill or the mart or the soil, - Who wearily drudge day by day - Till the soul of them seems to decay; - Only _seems_,--for within, after all, - There’s a something that waits for its call. - - - X. - - And if even the call never come - In this world of the deaf and the dumb, - When the Great Trumpet music shall fall - On the ears of the quick and the dead, - They shall burst from their clay - And hasten away - To their place in that host of which God is the Head. - - - - - ELOISE. - - - I. - - I’ll call thee Elöise. Such eyes as thine - With fatal beauty marred - The peace of Abelard, - And dimmed with human love the light divine - That lingers near Religion’s holy shrine! - - - II. - - O pitiless eyes, you burn unto my soul, - Each one a living coal - From off Love’s altar! Fall, O silken lashes, - And shade me, like a screen, from their control, - Ere all my warm delight be turned to ashes! - - - III. - - Oh, no! I cannot bear the shade. Burn on, - And let me slowly perish with sweet fire, - Myself at once the victim and the pyre,-- - I die of cold when that dear heat is gone. - - - - - WHEN THE SPRING-TIME COMES. - - - I. - - “When the Spring-time comes”-- - So we say in wintry hours; - And we look upon the snow, - While we think upon the flowers. - And we gaze till hope’s bright glory is kindled in our eyes, - And earth becomes an Eden full of beauty and delight, - Where the air is far too happy to bear any weight of sighs, - And myriad forms of gentle things bring gladness to the sight. - And we wander through and through, - Past the fairest trees and flowers, - Till we find the friends we knew, - And link their hands in ours, - And then, in ecstacy of bliss, we seek the sweetest bowers. - - - II. - - “When the Spring-time comes”-- - But ah! the snow is cold, - And Death is colder still,-- - Whom may he not enfold? - The glory in our eyes that shone is dimmed with bitter tears, - And our Eden-flowers have faded into nothingness again; - And we wander sadly, darkly, through a labyrinth of years, - And we call for vanished faces, and act wildly in our pain. - And then there comes a calm, - And our sorrow grows less bold, - As Nature’s mighty psalm, - O’er God’s own mountain rolled, - Once heralded the still, small voice to that lone seer of old. - - - III. - - “When the Spring-time comes”-- - Think we of griefs we know; - Had we foreseen them long, - Could we have stood the blow? - Then should we not be thankful for the mercy that conceals - The future, whether dark or bright, from our too curious eyes? - God knows what’s best for all of us; He covers or reveals, - As it seemeth to him best, the ill that in our pathway lies. - So let us journey on, - Content in weal or woe - To feel at least that One - Smiles on us as we go, - Who in sublime humility once suffered here below. - - - IV. - - “When the Spring-time comes”-- - Let us live well the hours, - God’s spring within the heart - Will wreathe them all with flowers. - And when the snow has fallen over hand and heart and brain, - Some few may say above our graves “Let us be like to them, - And though we may not see them when the Spring-time comes again, - We hold their memory more dear than gold or precious gem. - And at the great Spring day, - When melted are the powers - That hide our souls in clay, - As winter hides the flowers, - May we wreathe amaranths with them in Eden’s choicest bowers.” - - - - - HOPE. - - - She touched me in my sorrow; I awoke. - Her kind hands broke the fetters of my grief; - The light of smiles shone round me, as she spoke: - “I come, my friend, to bring thee sweet relief. - Of those that minister, I am the chief, - To man’s sick heart; I made the tears of Eve - Bright with the hues of Heaven, when loth to leave - The joys her disobedience made so brief. - I sailed with Noah o’er the buried earth, - I sat with Hagar by the new-found well, - I solaced Joseph in his lonely cell, - I filled sad David’s soul with songs of mirth.” - Much more she whispered, till my heart grew bright - And sorrow vanished, as at dawn, the night. - - - - - DOMINION DAY. - - JULY, 1st, 1867. - - - I. - - Our land is flushed with love; through the wealth of her gay-hued tresses - From his bright-red fingers the sun has been dropping his amorous fire, - And her eyes are gladly oppressed with the weight of his lips’ caresses, - And the zephyr-throbs of her bosom keep time with the voice of his lyre. - - - II. - - ’Tis the noon of the sweet, strong summer, the king of the months - of the year, - And the king of the year is crowning our Land with his glory of love, - And the King of all kings, in whose crown each gem is the light of - a sphere, - Looks smilingly down on our Land from the height of His heaven above. - - - III. - - For to-day she breathes what to her is the first of a nation’s breath, - As she lies ’neath the gaze of the sun, as a bride, or a child new-born, - Lies with fair motionless limbs in the beautiful semblance of death, - Yet awake with the joy of a bird that awakes with the whisper of morn. - - - IV. - - And her soul is drinking the music that flows through the golden lyre, - From the deeps of the woods and waters and wonderful hearts of men, - From the long-hushed songs of the forest, the wild, primeval choir, - Till she feels the breath of the Spirit move over her face again. - - 1. - - Of the shadowy distant ages, - (This is the song they sing), - That scorn historic pages, - When the Maple alone was king; - When the bears were lords of creation, - The beaver’s the only trade, - And the greatest Confederation - Was that which the wolves had made. - - 2. - - And then, long ages after, - How the first of the forest men, - With sounds of war and laughter, - Invaded the wild beast’s den; - They tell of the axe’s ringing, - Of the camp-fire’s savage glee, - Of the pipe of peace and the singing - Under the maple tree. - - 3. - - And how strange birds of ocean - Came from the dawn of day, - And woke untold commotion, - Where’er they winged their way; - How pale-faced men and cruel - Carried the sword and brand, - In search of gold and jewel, - Into the red man’s land. - - 4. - - How, with the warriors, others - Of gentle manners came, - Who called the red men brothers - And told them of His Name, - Who came from the Great Spirit, - To bless mankind and save; - And who, for man’s demerit, - Suffered the cross and grave. - - 5. - - How still in spite of preaching - Of brotherhood and peace, - It seemed that war’s stern teaching - Should never, never cease; - How blood was shed like water, - How treaties were despised, - How massacre and slaughter - Were night and day devised. - - 6. - - How, in the course of seasons, - Other strange ocean birds - Brought violence and treasons, - And smooth, deceitful words; - And how the first pale-faces - Fought with the last who came, - Until a war of races - Set all the woods aflame. - - 7. - - How valiant deeds and noble - Shone out amid the night, - Illuming scenes of trouble, - With Heaven’s blessed light; - How oft, in human nature, - Though wofully defaced, - Was seen some god-like feature-- - A flower in a waste; - - 8. - - Till now, through God’s good guiding, - Those who as foemen strove, - With heart in heart confiding, - As brothers join in love; - Till, from lake, sea and ocean, - Mountain and woody dell, - Is heard, with glad emotion, - Division’s passing-bell. - - - V. - - So she hears, not in words, but in spirit, the changeful tale of the past, - As she leans to the sun with veins that are blue like the - blue of the sky, - Hears with a smile on her lips that the demon Division is cast - Into the river of death, as a monster worthy to die. - - - VI. - - And she hears many tongues of men, that are singing as one in her praise, - Calling her, all, by one name, a name that is noble and old, - Singing a pæan of joy for the light of the gladdest of days, - Making a noise of thanksgiving for union more precious than gold. - - - VII. - - 1. - - Canada, Canada, land of the maple, - Queen of the forest and river and lake, - Open thy soul to the voice of thy people, - Close not thy heart to the music they make. - Bells, chime out merrily, - Trumpets, call cheerily, - Silence is vocal, and sleep is awake! - - 2. - - Canada, Canada, land of the beaver, - Labour and skill have their triumph to-day; - Oh! may the joy of it flow like a river, - Wider and deeper as time flies away. - Bells, chime out merrily, - Trumpets, call cheerily, - Science and industry laugh and are gay. - - 3. - - Canada, Canada, land of the snow-bird, - Emblem of constancy change cannot kill, - Faith, that no strange cup has ever unsobered, - Drinketh, to-day, from love’s chalice her fill. - Bells, chime out merrily, - Trumpets, call cheerily, - Loyalty singeth and treason is still! - - 4. - - Canada, Canada, land of the bravest, - Sons of the war-path, and sons of the sea, - Land of no slave-lash, to-day thou enslavest - Millions of hearts with affection for thee. - Bells, chime out merrily, - Trumpets, call cheerily, - Let the sky ring with the shout of the free. - - 5. - - Canada, Canada, land of the fairest, - Daughters of snow that is kissed by the sun, - Binding the charms of all lands that are rarest, - Like the bright cestus of Venus in one! - Bells, chime out merrily, - Trumpets, call cheerily, - A new reign of beauty on earth is begun! - - - VIII. - - 1. - - The ocean has kissed her feet - With cool, soft lips that smile, - And his breath is wondrously sweet - With the odours of many an isle. - - 2. - - He has many a grand old song - Of his grand, old fearless kings; - And the voice from his breast is strong, - As he sings and laughs as he sings. - - 3. - - Though often his heart is sad - With the weight of the gray-haired days - That were once as light and as glad - As the soul of a child that plays. - - 4. - - But to-day at Canada’s feet, - He smiles, as when Venus was born, - And the breath from his lips is as sweet - As the breath of wet flowers at morn. - - - IX. - - 1. - - The mountains raise their faces - Up to the face of God; - They are fresh with balmy graces - And with flowers their feet are shod. - - 2. - - In their soul is a noise of gladness, - Their veins swell out with song,-- - With a feathery touch of sadness, - Like a dream of forgotten wrong. - - 3. - - They have set their song to the metre - Of the bright-eyed summer days, - And our Land, to-day they greet her, - With lips that are red with praise. - - - X. - - 1. - - Lake is calling to lake - With a ripply, musical sound, - As though half afraid to awake - The storm from his sleep profound. - - 2. - - The hem of their garments is gay - With gardens that look to the south; - And the smile of the dawn of to-day - Has touched them on bosom and mouth. - - - XI. - - The rivers have gladly embraced, - And carry the joy of the lakes, - Past mountain and island and waste, - To where the sea’s laughter outbreaks. - - - XII. - - And sea and lake and mountain, - And man and beast and bird-- - Our happy Land’s life fountain-- - By one great voice are stirred. - Bells chime out merrily, - Trumpets call cheerily, - Cannons boom lustily, - Greet the glad day! - Rose-wreath and fleur-de-lys, - Shamrock and thistle be - Joined to the maple tree - Now and for aye! - - - XIII. - - Let the shout of our joy to-day be borne through the pulse of the sea, - To the grand old lands of our fathers,--a token of loyalest love; - And may the winds bring back sweet words, O our Land, to thee-- - As, in the far old time, the peace-leaf came with the dove. - - - XIV. - - And long, long ages hence, when the Land that we love so well - Has clasped us all (as a mother clasps her babe) to her - motherly bosom, - Those who shall walk on the dust of us, with pride in their - Land shall tell, - Holding the fruit in their grateful hands, of the birth - of to-day, the blossom. - - - - - IN MY HEART. - - - I. - - In my heart are many chambers through which I wander free; - Some are furnished, some are empty, some are sombre, some are light; - Some are open to all comers, and of some I keep the key, - And I enter in the stillness of the night. - - - II. - - But there’s one I never enter,--it is closed to even me! - Only once its door was opened, and it shut for evermore; - And though sounds of many voices gather round it, like the sea, - It is silent, ever silent, as the shore. - - - III. - - In that chamber, long ago, my love’s casket was concealed, - And the jewel that it sheltered I knew only one could win; - And my soul foreboded sorrow, should that jewel be revealed, - And I almost hoped that none might enter in. - - - IV. - - Yet day and night I lingered by that fatal chamber door, - Till--she came at last, my darling one, of all the earth my own; - And she entered--and she vanished with my jewel, which she wore; - And the door was closed--and I was left alone. - - - V. - - She gave me back no jewel, but the spirit of her eyes - Shone with tenderness a moment, as she closed that chamber door, - And the memory of that moment is all I have to prize,-- - But _that, at least_, is mine for evermore. - - - VI. - - Was she conscious, when she took it, that the jewel was my love? - Did she think it but a bauble, she might wear or toss aside? - I know not, I accuse not, but I hope that it may prove - A blessing, though she spurn it in her pride. - - - - - SISERA. - - JUDGES v., 28-30. - - - “Why comes he not? why comes he not, - My brave and noble son? - Why comes he not with his warlike men, - And the trophies his sword has won? - How slowly roll his chariot wheels! - How weary is the day! - Pride of thy mother’s lonely heart, - Why dost thou still delay? - - He comes not yet! will he never come - To gladden these heavy eyes, - That have watched and watched from morn till eve, - And again till the sun did rise? - Shall I greet no more his look of joy, - Nor hear his manly voice? - Why comes he not with the spoils of war, - And the damsels of his choice?” - - Years rushed along in their ceaseless course, - But Sisera came no more, - With his mighty men and his captive maids, - As he oft had come before. - A woman’s hand had done the deed - That laid a hero low;-- - A woman’s heart had felt the grief - That childless mothers know. - - - - - COLUMBA SIBYLLA. - - - Ex mediis viridem surgentem ut lœta columba - Undis aspexit, post tempora tristia, terram, - Et levibus volitans folia alis carpsit olivæ, - Pacifera et rediit, libertatemque futuram - Navali inclusis in carcere significavit; - Sic terram, lœtis, super œquora vasta, Columbus - Insequitur, ventis astrisque faventibus, alis; - Inventam et terram placidis consevit olivis. - Aevorum super æquora parva columba Columbum - Inscia persequitur cum vaticinantibus alis! - Omina nomina sunt et Verbo facta reguntur, - Prœteritum nectitque futuro Aeterna Catena. - - - - - SUMMER IS DEAD. - - - I. - - Summer is dead. Shall we weep or laugh, - As we gaze on the dead queen’s epitaph - Which Autumn has written in letters of gold: - “She was bright and beautiful, blithe and young, - And through grove and meadow she gaily sung, - As with careless footsteps she danced along - To the grave, where she now lies cold?” - - - II. - - Shall we weep that her beauty from earth has gone? - Shall we weep for the friends that with her have flown? - Shall we weep for those that with her have died? - For the man that has perished in manhood’s pride? - For the maiden that never can be a bride? - For the hearts that are left alone? - - - III. - - Shall we laugh as we stand at earth’s palace-door, - With the faded crown that poor Summer wore, - And placing it on her sister’s brow, - Forget the face that once smiled beneath - That faded crown, and the flowery breath - That parted those lips now cold in death? - For Autumn is monarch now. - - - IV. - - Summer is dead. Shall we laugh or weep? - Is she really dead or only asleep - With her sleeping garments on? - She only sleeps, and in meadow and grove - Again in gay dances her steps shall move; - But shall she come back with the friends we love? - God knows, and His will be done. - - - - - ON A DEAD FIELD-FLOWER. - - - Torn by some careless hand - From thy mother’s breast, - Where gentle breezes fann’d - Thy little leaves to rest, - Here dost thou lie, forsaken, - No more shalt thou awaken, - To gladden with thy beauty the wanderer opprest! - - No more at early morn, - When the lark’s gay song, - Through grove and meadow borne, - Calls his merry mates along, - Shall thy tiny arms, outspreading, - Their grateful odour shedding, - Give silent, speaking welcome to Nature’s joyous throng! - - Peaceful and calm thy sleep! - Thy life’s race run, - Thou hadst no cause to weep, - No duty left undone! - Sweet little withered blossom, - How many a blighted bosom - Would fain repose as softly beneath a summer’s sun! - - How many a child of care, - Won by thy power, - Might raise his voice in prayer, - Taught by thee, little flower! - Ah! surely thou wast given, - A gracious boon from heaven, - To throw its charm on sinful earth for one short blissful hour! - - Farewell! I may not stay; - Thy frail, drooping form - Heeds not the sun’s fierce ray, - Nor winter’s frowning storm! - Like thee, kind hearts have perish’d - By those that should have cherish’d, - And held the shield of friendship to shelter them from harm. - - Like thee, I soon must fade, - And ’neath the sky - Lifeless and cold be laid! - But though I claim no sigh, - Though no fond heart may miss me - When death’s pale lips shall kiss me, - If my short life be pure as thine, I need not fear to die. - - MAY, 1857. - - - - - LINES - - WRITTEN ON THE DEPARTURE OF THE PRINCE OF WALES - FROM PORTLAND, OCTOBER, 1860. - - (_Set to Music by_ F. BARNBY, Esq., _and sung at a Concert given in - honour of the Prince, in Montreal, November 9th, 1860_.) - - - I. - - He stands alone upon the deck, - A prince without a peer, - He hears the cannon’s farewell boom, - The loud and loyal cheer-- - A prayer from true New England hearts, - Honest and brave and free, - That God would guide Old England’s heir - Safe o’er the stormy sea. - He sees the sad, regretful gaze - That marks him as he goes, - And prays that God may never make - Such trusty friends his foes, - But that, as brothers in the cause - Of Liberty and Right, - Under the sacred flag of Truth - They ever may unite. - - - II. - - He stands alone upon the deck, - Son of the noblest Queen - That ever placed a royal crown - Upon a brow serene. - For her sake did we welcome him, - Who owns an empire’s love; - But now we bless him for his own,-- - God bless him from above! - He stands alone, a boy in years, - A “mighty one” by birth, - Crowned with a love that far excels - The brightest crowns of earth; - Nor thinks he of the pomp and power - That wait his glad return, - But thoughts of manly tenderness - Deep in his bosom burn. - - - III. - - He stands alone upon the deck, - Though thousands gaze on him, - He sees them not, for fond regret - Has made his blue eyes dim; - His boyish lip is quivering, - And flushed his boyish cheek, - And his tearful eye speaks more, by far, - Than words could ever speak. - God grant that he may ever be - As good a prince as now, - Nor ever may true virtue’s crown - Be lifted from his brow! - God bless him for his mother’s sake, - God bless him for his own, - As thus he stands upon the deck, - ’Mid thousands all alone! - - - - - ODE ON THE MARRIAGE OF THE PRINCE OF WALES. - - MARCH 10th, 1863. - - - I. - - Roses of England of every hue, - Your heads were lately bowed with the dew - Of sorrow for one that was good and true, - Through the length and breadth of your Island-garden, - Missing a hand that had cared for you! - He sleeps in your midst, O Roses, - The Roses he loved and knew, - And blest was your sorrow, Roses, - You gave unto worth its due! - - - II. - - But, O Roses, smile again, - He for whom you weep - Left his spirit among men - When he fell asleep,-- - Left his spirit and his name, - Left his pure, unspotted fame, - One who lives them all can claim. - Smile on him, O Roses! - He whose head reposes - In a sacred spot of your Island-garden, - Left him to you, good, brave and true, - To cherish and guard you, Roses! - - - III. - - And now to you he brings - A treasure to keep and love, - From the north-land home of the old sea kings,-- - A beautiful Danish Dove! - I heard proud Ocean’s waves, - England’s and Denmark’s slaves, - Tell it in all the caves - That peep through the wall of your Island-garden! - Then welcome her sweetly, Roses, - She shall nestle among you soon, - And shall be to the loved of him whom you loved - In sorrow a priceless boon! - - - IV. - - Winds that sport with the sea, - Go east, west, south and north, - And from every Rose of the English tree - That remembers its English birth - Carry from far and wide - A gentle message of love - To the lone Rose-queen and her garden’s pride, - And his beautiful Danish Dove. - - - - - TO A SNOWBIRD. - - - I. - - O gentle little comer - In wintry days, - Far more than songs of summer - I love thy lays. - They come when flowers are sweetest, - And leaves are green; - But thou thy song repeatest - In sterner scene. - - - II. - - In joyous days are many - The friends we find; - In dark ones scarcely any, - To soothe the mind. - But friends in hours of sorrow - Far more we prize - Than those that go to-morrow - If storms arise. - - - - - THE CLOUDS ARE BLUSHING. - - - The clouds are blushing, the sun is gone, - He has been kissing them, every one, - Except the shy ones, that kept away, - And tearfully watched his parting ray; - But they love him no less - For their bashfulness; - The truest of lovers are not the most gay. - - The sun is gone, and the blushing clouds - Are growing dimmer, as Night enshrouds - Sky, sea and land in her sombre pall-- - The sexton at old Earth’s funeral, - When her race is run, - And her work is done, - And her children are weaned from her, one and all. - - The Man of the Moon has lit his lamp, - And is now commencing his airy tramp, - To see how the stars, those merry elves - That wink as he passes, behave themselves. - With steady pace - He is running his race, - Holding his lamp with a dignified grace. - - The sun is rising behind the hill, - And I am waiting and watching still-- - Waiting and watching, as night goes by, - What queer little scenes take place in the sky, - When the silence is deep - And men are asleep, - And none are awake but the stars and I! - - MAY, 1859. - - - - - UNSPOKEN. - -.... Quis prodere tanta relatu -.... possit? - - --_Claudian._ - - - There is a voice that never stirs the lips,-- - Felt, but not heard; that vibrates through the soul,-- - A solemn music; but no human speech - Can give that music to the ambient air. - - The noblest poem poet ever wrote; - The brightest picture artist ever drew; - The loftiest music lyrist ever sung; - The gentlest accents woman ever spoke,-- - Are paraphrases of a felt original, - That lip, or pen, or pencil, cannot show - Unto the seeing eye or listening ear. - The thoughts we utter are but half themselves. - The poet knows this well. The artist knows - His hands bear not the burden of his thoughts - Upon the canvas. The musician knows - His soul must ever perish on his lips. - Even the eye,--“the window of the soul,”-- - Though it may shed a light a little way, - Gives but a glimpse of that which burns within. - - The sweet, unconscious tenderness of flowers; - The boundless awe of star-encircled night; - The tear that trickles down an old man’s cheek; - Ocean’s loud pulse, that makes our own beat high; - The vocal throb of a great multitude; - The pause when we have heard and said “Farewell,” - And feel the pressure of a hand that’s gone; - The thought that we have wronged our truest friend, - When he is sleeping in the arms of Death; - The silent, fathomless anguish that engulfs - Him who has found the precious power to love, - And sees that all he loves is torn from him; - His dying moments who is void of hope; - Jezebel; Nero; Judas; any one - Of all the hideous things that crawled through life - In human form;--what mortal could express - All that he feels in one or all of these, - Giving the very image of his thought? - - Life, Death, Hell, Judgment, Resurrection, GOD-- - Who can express their meaning? Who can bound - Awe that is infinite in finite words? - - Thus much of us must ever be concealed-- - Spite of the high ambition to be born - Of what is noblest in us,--till His breath - Who woke the morning stars to sing their song, - Awakes our souls to fuller utterance. - - - - - JEPHTHAH. - - JUDGES xi. - - - I. - - Rejoice ye tribes of Israel, the Lord was on your side, - Your fierce and daring enemies have fallen in their pride. - In vain the heathen strove against Jehovah’s awful word, - For Ammon’s proud, presumptuous sons have perished by the sword. - - - II. - - From Aroer to Minnith and to Abel’s fertile plain - Of twenty noble cities the “mighty men” are slain; - Rejoice, thou son of Gilead, the Lord hath heard thy vow,-- - Thy foes are crushed, thy father’s sons before thy presence bow. - - - III. - - It is an hour of triumph to the warrior and his band, - An hour of stern rejoicing to all the chosen land, - When the conqueror of Ammon, the valiant of his race, - Beholds once more, with well-earned joy, his long-lost native place. - - - IV. - - But who is this advancing with gay attendant crowd? - O Jephthah! dost remember now the vow that thou hast vowed? - Why is thy face so ghastly pale? why sinks thy noble head? - Thy daughter’s blood must now atone for all that thou hast shed! - - - V. - - Honour and pomp and victory are all forgotten now, - And clouds of darkest anguish sweep across the father’s brow. - He speaks--his words are words of death: he orders--is obeyed-- - And lonely mountains mourn the fate of Israel’s queenly maid. - - - VI. - - Rejoice, ye tribes of Israel, the Lord was on your side, - Your fierce presumptuous enemies have fallen in their pride? - But, Jephthah, thou art childless now, lift up thy voice and weep! - No sound of wailing can disturb thy daughter’s dreamless sleep! - - MAY, 1858. - - - - - DE PROFUNDIS. - - - I’ve seen the Ocean try to kiss the Moon, - Till the wild effort of his hopeless love - Tortured him into madness, and the roar - From his great throat was terrible to hear; - And his vast bosom heaved such awful sighs - As made Earth tremble to her very bones, - And all her children cling to her for fear. - And I have watched and seen a gentle change - Come over him, till, like a child, he lay, - That, disappointed, cries herself asleep, - And on her sorrow angels paint a dream - So happy that her face is one sweet smile. - So have I seen the love-tost Ocean smile - After his fury, till I almost hoped - That the gay Moon would never tempt him more. - But ever his heart throbs at her approach, - And he awakes in all the strength of love, - And frets himself to madness, watching her. - - And when, as I have sometimes seen, the Sun, - His mighty rival, struts before his eyes - With her he loves, and warmly looks on her, - Oh! how his heart is torn with jealousy! - Oh! how he froths and foams and moans and raves, - Till all his energy is lost in sleep, - From which his love will rouse him soon again! - - So did I learn the Ocean’s tale of love, - Watching him, day by day, for many years, - Hearing him often murmur in his sleep - Such sweet, sad murmurs, that I pitied him; - And, like Electra, sat beside his bed - Till all the madness of his love awoke. - - O Ocean! thou art like the human heart, - Which craves forever what it cannot have, - And, though a little it forget its strife - Of longing, only wakes to long again - For that which is no more accessible - Than is the Moon to thee! Yet, shouldst thou lie - Dull, sluggish, motionless, thy very life - Would grow corrupt, and from the stagnant mass - All things abominable would creep forth - To soil with slimy poison the fair Earth; - And that alone which moves thee to thy heart - Can keep thee pure and bright and beautiful! - - So, by the anguish of a hopeless love,-- - So, by the madness born of mental pain,-- - So, by the endless strife of joy and fear,-- - So, by all sufferings, tortures, agonies,-- - So, by the powers that shake it to its depths,-- - So, by the very loss of what it seeks,-- - The heart is purified, and that which seems - Its death gives it a fresher, truer life. - - - - - LOCHLEVEN. - - “We passed Lochleven, and saw the Castle on the Lake from which - poor Queen Mary escaped.”--_The Queen’s Journal._ - - - I. - - Sweet words of pity! Oh! if thou could’st rise, - Fair Queen, from out the darkness of the tomb, - And their old beauty light again thine eyes, - And thy persuasive lips no more be dumb,-- - If thou, in all thy charms, should’st thus appear, - How thy full heart would throb! With what surprise - And rapture thou would’t watch thy gentle peer, - By sad Lochleven, as, with tender sighs, - She mourned thy fate,--“Poor Mary wandered here.” - - - II. - - This vengeance Time hath brought thee; and thy foe, - Should she, too, rise with envy in her breast, - Would see thee throned with mercy in the best - And purest heart that ever beat below - The purple of a Queen; whose veins are warm - With that same blood that gave the beauteous glow - To thine own cheeks. In her still lives the charm, - For which, in spite of all, men worshipped thee,-- - Refined by honour, truth and purity. - - - - - UNUS ABEST. - - - I. - - A group of merry children played; - The smiling sun to watch them stayed; - A cloud came by with deadly shade; - “Unus abest.” - - - II. - - Bright faces glow ’mid dance and game; - Hush! some one named a well-known name; - But dance and song go on the same; - “Unus abest.” - - - III. - - A father joins his children’s mirth; - A mother mourns an awful dearth; - “Ashes to ashes, earth to earth;” - “Unus abest.” - - - IV. - - One sits before a lonely fire, - Watching the flame’s unsteady spire - Wasting with suicidal ire; - “Unus abest.” - - - V. - - Thus, day by day, in house or street, - We miss some form we used to meet; - Some human heart has ceased to beat; - “Unus abest.” - - - VI. - - The years pass on; our hair is grey; - A few years more we’ll pass away, - Each leaving to his friends to say - “Unus abest.” - - - VII. - - Then let us live that, when the call - Of the Great Trumpet wakes us all, - These words from God’s high throne may fall: - “NULLUS ABEST.” - - - - - THE PRODIGAL’S RETURN. - - (_St. Luke’s Gospel_, xv. 17-32.) - - - I. - - Long, my Father, have I wandered - From the home I loved of old,-- - All Thy tender mercies squandered, - All Thy loving-kindness sold. - - - II. - - I have sinned against Thy goodness, - Mocked Thy sorrow, scorned Thy love; - Treated all Thy care with rudeness, - ’Gainst Thy gentle Spirit strove. - - - III. - - Far from Thy free, bounteous table, - I have fed on husks of sin; - Wayward, thankless, and unstable, - Father, wilt Thou take me in? - - - IV. - - Take me, oh! in mercy take me, - To Thy blessed home again, - And let no enticement shake me,-- - Satan’s wiles nor wicked men. - - - V. - - I am sinful, doubting, fearing-- - Thou canst banish all alarm; - I am weak, and blind, and erring-- - Thou canst shield from every harm. - - - VI. - - Look upon me, crushed and broken, - Humble, contrite, at Thy feet. - Dost Thou know me? Hast Thou spoken? - “Hast Thou come Thy child to meet!” - - - VII. - - Lost and found! Once dead, now living! - Once an outcast, now a son! - Once despairing, now believing,-- - I my Father’s house have won. - - BALLYSHANNON, 1855. - - - - - IT IS THE QUIET HOUR. - - - It is the quiet hour, when weary Day - Whispers adieu in his dark Sister’s ear, - And my lone soul is wandering away - To blissful scenes that are no longer near; - And well-known faces seem to smile again, - And voices long unheard sound blithe and gay, - As, when, of yore, a happy, careless train, - We plucked the flowers that grew by life’s young way. - Sweet flowers!--destined to a swift decay! - Bright faces!--that on earth have smiled your last! - Gay voices!--that have ceased to sing the lay - That rose spontaneous in the joyous past! - Memory’s own stars amid my night of pain, - Shine out and tell me “Love is not in vain!” - - - - - ESSAYS - - IN - - TRANSLATION. - - - - - HECTOR AND ANDROMACHE. - - - THE PARTING. - - (_Homer’s Iliad_ vi. 369-503.) - - Thus, having done his duty to his gods - And to his country, Hector sought his home, - Where Art and Nature vied in loveliness. - Love winged his feet; his home he quickly found. - But her whom his soul loved he found not there, - Her of the snowy arms, Andromache: - For she, with infant child and well-robed nurse, - Unto a tower that faced the Grecian camp - Had gone to watch and weep. So Hector paused - Upon the threshold, as he left the house, - And made enquiry of the household maids: - “Come now, handmaidens, answer me in truth, - Whither white-armed Andromache has gone, - To seek my sisters, or my brothers’ wives, - Or to Athene’s temple, where a crowd - Of matrons seek the bright-haired goddess’ wrath - To turn to mercy by the strength of tears?” - A trusty servant quickly made response: - “Hector, my lord, right willingly my lips - Shall answer truthfully thy eager quest,-- - Not to thy sisters, nor thy brothers’ wives, - Nor to Athene’s temple, where a crowd - Of matrons seek the bright haired goddess’ wrath - To turn to mercy by the strength of tears, - Has gone Andromache; but she has gone - Unto a lofty tower of Ilion - To watch the contest, for bad tidings came - Of Greeks victorious and of Trojans slain; - And at this moment, like a frenzied one, - She rushes to the rampart, while, behind, - Her darling boy is carried by his nurse.” - - She ceased; nor waited Hector long, but rushed - Forth from the house, along the very way - That he had come, through fair-built Troja’s streets; - Nor paused he till he reached the Scæan gate, - (Through which he meant to hie him to the plain). - But here Andromache of queenly dower, - His wife, the daughter of Eëtion, - Who dwelt erstwhile ’neath Placus’ woody height, - In Thebe, ruling o’er Cilician men, - Came running till she met him in the way. - With her, the nurse, who to her bosom held - An innocent-hearted babe, their only son, - His father’s joy, in beauty like a star, - Scamandrius named by Hector, but the host - Called him Astyanax, the City’s King, - Honouring Hector chief defence of Troy. - And now he looked on him, and smiled a smile - That spake his heart more than a thousand words, - And called the tears into his mother’s eyes. - She, clinging to her husband, grasped his hand, - And, sobbing “Hector,” spoke to him these words: - “Ah! love, thy bravery will be thy bane, - And, seeking glory, thou forgettest _him_ - And me, ah! hapless me when thou art gone! - Soon, soon, I know it, all the foes of Troy, - Rushing on thee at once, shall take thy life. - And, when I miss thee, it were better far - That I were laid beneath the ground: for I - Shall then have none to comfort me, not one, - But woes on woes, when thou hast left me, Hector! - No sire have I, nor gentle mother left,-- - _Him_, as thou know’st, the proud Achilles slew, - And razed his fair-built city to the ground. - High-gated Thebe. Yet he spoiled him not, - Although he slew him, but, with reverence, - Laid him in glittering arms upon the pyre, - And raised a mound in honour of his name, - Which the hill-nymphs garlanded round with elms, - The daughters of the ægis-bearing Zeus. - And my seven brothers, in one fatal day, - Entered the gloomy shades where Pluto reigns, - Slain by the ruthless hand that slew my sire, - As, in their native fields, they watched the herds - Of kine, slow-footed, and of snowy sheep. - Nor did my queenly mother long survive, - For, led a captive to the Grecian camp, - With other spoils, the victor sent her home, - For goodly ransom, only to be slain - By the sure shaft of huntress Artemis. - But thou art father, mother, brother, spouse, - My pride, my Hector! Oh! then, pity me! - Stay here and watch with me upon this tower,-- - Stay, stay, my Hector, go not hence to make - Thy child an orphan and a widow me! - But set the forces by the Fig-tree Hill, - Where the chief risk of hostile entrance lies, - And where the wall is weakest. At that point - Already have the bravest of our foes-- - Idomeneus and either Ajax, Diomede, - And the two sons of Atreus--made assault, - Whether incited thither by some voice - Prophetic, or high hope of victory. - So stay, my Hector, they will need thee here.” - - Then valiant Hector, of quick-glancing helm, - Thus made reply: “Of all that thou hast said, - My own true wife, I feel, I know the truth, - But--could I bear the taunts of Trojan chiefs - And stately Trojan dames, if, coward-like, - I skulked from battle in my country’s need? - Nor does my spirit keep me from the fight, - For I have learned, brave-hearted, ’mid the first, - To draw my sword in Ilion’s defence, - To struggle for the honour of my sire - And for my own. Although too well I know - The day shall come when sacred Troy must fall, - And Priam and his war-like hosts, who well - Can wield in fight the ashen-handled spear! - But not the woes of my brave countrymen, - Nor yet my mother’s nor my kingly sire’s, - Nor all my brethren’s who shall bite the dust - ’Neath bitter foes, touch me so much as thine, - When some one of the brass-mailed Greeks shall end - Thy days of freedom, leading thee away - In tears; and, haply, in far Argos, thou - May’st tend another’s loom or water draw - From Hyperea’s or Messeis’ fount,-- - A slavish duty forced on thee by fate. - And some one, looking on thy tears, may say: - ‘_She_ was the wife of Hector, who excelled - In fight among the chiefs that fought for Troy.’ - And thy poor heart will ache with vain regret - For him whose strong right arm would keep thee free. - Then may his heaped-up grave keep Hector’s eyes - From looking on thy sorrow and disgrace!” - - So spake the noble Hector, and his arms - Extended to receive his son; but _he_ - Shrank, crying, to his well-robed nurse’s breast, - Fearing the war-like presence of his sire, - His brazen armour and the horse-hair crest - Above his helmet nodding fearfully. - And Hector took the helmet off his head - And laid it down, all gleaming, on the ground; - And then he kissed and dandled him, and prayed - To Zeus and all the gods on his behalf: - “O Zeus and all ye gods, I pray you, grant - That this, my son, may, as his sire, excel, - And may he truly be the City’s King! - And may men say of him, as he returns - From war: ‘He’s braver than his father was.’ - May he from war-like men take gory spoils, - And may his mother glory in his might!” - - Such was the warrior’s prayer; and in the arms - Of his dear wife he placed the little child. - She clasped the treasure to her fragrant breast, - Tearfully smiling. And her husband’s soul - Was touched with pity, and he nursed her hand, - And called her by her name: “Andromache, - My love, fret not thyself too much for me! - No man descends to Hades ere his time, - And none whoe’er is born escapes his fate, - Whether his heart be cowardly or brave. - But, love, returning home, apply thyself - To household duties, and thy handmaidens - Despatch to theirs, the distaff and the loom. - For war must be the business of men, - And of all men that have been born in Troy, - This war has need of none so much as me.” - Thus having spoken, noble Hector placed - The waving helmet on his head again. - And, silently, Andromache returned - (Oft looking back through her fast-gushing tears) - To the fair mansion of her warrior spouse. - - And there, amid her handmaidens, she wept; - And they wept, too, mourning their lord as dead, - While yet he lived: for, though he lived, they said - They knew that he would never more return, - Exulting in his prowess, from the war. - - - THE LAMENT OF ANDROMACHE FOR HECTOR. - - (_Homer’s Iliad_ xxii. 437-515.) - - But she whom he had loved, Andromache, - Knew not of Hector’s death, for none had come - To tell her of his stay without the walls. - She in the lofty palace sat retired - Within her chamber, working at the loom,-- - Weaving a purple vest, with varied flowers - Embroidered. - But, as she her fair-haired maids - Enjoined to place upon the blazing fire - The spacious caldron, that the soothing bath - Might be for Hector ready when he came - Home from the battle, knowing not that he, - Betrayed by blue-eyed Pallas, bleeding lay - Beneath Achilles’ hand, she heard the sound - Of weeping and of wailing on the walls; - And her limbs trembled, and the shuttle fell - Upon the ground. - Then cried she to her maids: - “Come, quickly, follow me, that we may see - What thing has happened, for I surely heard - My mother’s voice. My heart within my breast - Bounds to my lips,--my knees are stiff with fear,-- - And--oh! I dread some ill to Priam’s house. - Ah, me! I fear me much, great Peleus’ son - Has severed my brave Hector from the town, - And drives him to the plain; and soon his life - Will be the forfeit of his manly rage. - Never would he abide amid the crowd, - But must be ever foremost in the war,-- - In valour without peer.” - She said, and flew - Forth from the palace, like a frenzied one, - With throbbing heart; and her maids followed her. - But when she reached the tower, amid the throng, - She stood upon the wall, and gazed around, - Until she saw her Hector dragged along - With foul dishonour by the prancing steeds - Towards the Grecian ships; and, at the sight, - Night, as of death, darkened her tearful eyes. - Swooning, she fell, and scattered in her fall - The ornaments that bound her captive hair, - Wondrous in beauty, band, and wreath, and veil, - And fillet, Golden Aphrodite’s gift, - What day brave Hector led Andromache - Forth from her father’s house, Eëtion. - Her sisters, who were nigh, with gentle care - Received her sinking form, and by her side - Waited in fear lest she should wake no more. - But when, at last, the parted life returned - And the full sense of misery, she wept - Among her kinsfolk, and, with choking sobs, - Called Hector’s name: - “Ah, wretched me! my Hector, - Surely a cruel fate has followed us - Since we were born,--thou, in this city, Troy, - In Priam’s palace,--I, in far-off Thebes, - Where Placus rears on high his woody crest, - The hapless daughter of a hapless king! - Oh! would that I had never seen the sun! - For now to Pluto’s dark and drear abode - Thou hast descended, leaving me alone, - A mournful widow in thy empty halls. - And he who was his hapless parents’ pride, - Our infant son, shall see thy face no more, - Nor ever more delight thy loving eyes, - Since thine are closed in death. - Unhappy boy! - If even he escape the Grecian sword, - Travail and woes must be henceforth his lot, - And stranger hands shall reap his father’s fields,-- - The woful day of orphanage has made - His life all friendless and companionless,-- - The constant prey of grief, upon his cheek - The tears shall never dry,--and he must beg - With suppliant mien bread from his father’s guests, - Scarce heeded, or, if heeded, poorly fed. - His pampered peer in age, whose ev’ry need - Both parents well supply, with cruel hands - Thrusting him from the feast, will rudely say: - ‘Away! begone! thy father feasts not here.’ - Then to his widowed mother, all in tears, - My boy will come, my sweet Astyanax, - Who, erstwhile, fondled on his father’s knee, - Shared in the choicest titbits of the board; - And when, at eve, his childish prattle ceased, - Lulled by his tender nurse, his little head - Reposed on downy pillow, and his cheek - Glowed with the silent pleasure of his heart. - Now is he doomed to pain, his father gone, - Whose valour won his name Astyanax, - ‘The City’s King,’--for Hector was of Troy, - Its gates and lofty walls, the chief defence. - And thou, my Hector, liest all unclad - Far from thy kin, beside the high-prowed ships,-- - Of ravenous dogs and coiling worms the prey,-- - While in thy desert halls neglected lie - The soft, fair garments that were wrought for thee, - Alas! in vain, by hands that love had taught. - These now must only deck thy funeral pyre, - In mournful honour to thy cherished name-- - The glory and the strength of fallen Troy.” - - Thus spake she ’mid her tears, and, all around, - The listening chorus of her maidens wept. - - - - - THE BEACON LIGHT ANNOUNCING THE FALL OF TROY AT ARGOS. - - (_From the Agamemnon of Æschylus, v. 255._) - - - CHORUS AND CLYTEMNESTRA. - - CL.--Word of joy this morning brings - From the bosom of the night, - Higher joy than Hope’s gay wings - Circled in her farthest flight! - Troy is taken, Troy is fallen - By the victor Argive’s might! - - CH.--Troy has fallen dost thou tell me? - Have I heard thy words aright? - - CL.--Hearken! I repeat the words,-- - Troy is held by Grecian lords. - - CH.--Ah! what gladness fills my heart, - And my tears with rapture start! - - CL.--Yes, thine eyes thy feeling shew. - - CH.--This by what proof dost thou know? - - CL.--The gods, that never would deceive, - Brought these tidings. - - CH.--Dost believe - In the fickle shapes of dreams? - - CL.--Nay; the dozings of the mind - Leave in me no trace behind. - - CH.--Some wild rumour, then, meseems? - - CL.--Dost thou think me but a child, - Thus and thus to be beguiled? - - CH.--How long, then, is it since proud Ilion fell? - - CL.--Since but the night that bore this morning’s light. - - CH.--And who this message hither brought so well? - - CL.--Hephæstus, sending forth his beacon bright - From Ida’s summit; then, from height to height - With blaze successive, beacon kindling beacon, - Bore us the tidings. Ida glanced it forth - To Lemnos, even to th’ Hermæan rock; - And next steep Athos, dear to Zeus, received - From Lemnos the bright flame, which, in its strength - Joyous, pursued its onward course, and flew - O’er the broad shoulders of Oceanus, - Giving its gleams all-golden, like the sun, - To those that on Makistos kept high watch. - Nor dallying he, nor won by ill-timed sleep, - Assumed his part of messenger; and far - Over Euripus speeds the signal flame, - Telling their tasks to the Messapian guards, - Who answered with a blaze that straightway lit - The heather on old Graia’s mountain-tops. - Then in full-gleaming strength, like a fair moon, - The beacon-light shot o’er Asopus plain, - And lit with answering fire Cithæron’s cliff, - Whose emulous watch made brighter still the blaze. - Thence darted on the fiery messenger - Over Gorgopis lake and up the sides - Of Ægiplanctus, whence (the waiting wards - Heaping no niggard pile), a beard-like flame - Streamed onward till it touched the cliff that spies - The billows of the blue Saronic sea; - But paused not in its course, until it reached - The heights of Arachnæum, over there. - And thence it strikes upon these palace-roofs,-- - Far offspring of the light of fallen Troy. - - - - - PRIAM AND HELEN. - - (_Iliad_ iii. 161.) - - - Priam, the King, to the tower where he sat called the beautiful Helen: - “Hither, my daughter, approach and sit by me here on this tower, - Whence thou mayest see the spouse of thy youth, thy friends - and thy kindred. - Thou knowest I never blamed thee; I blame the gods of Olympus, - Who excited this war of sorrows and tears without number. - Come, Helen, sit by my side, and tell me the name of yon hero, - Mighty and stately in mien. Though others around him are taller, - One of such beauty as his and of so majestic a bearing - I have never beheld. If he is not a king he is kingly.” - Then Helen, fairest of women, answered the King: “O my father, - Father of Paris, by me thou art loved and revered and respected! - Would that an evil death had been my lot when I followed - Hither thy son, Alexander, leaving my husband behind me, - Kinsmen, too, and sweet daughter, and friends that I knew - since my childhood! - ’Twas not allowed me to die--so I pine away slowly with weeping. - But thou awaitest reply: thou seest the great Agamemnon, - Wide-ruling king, as thou saidst, and a warrior valiant and skilful; - Once he was a brother to me--oh, shame!--in the days that - have vanished!” - - Then, as a hero a hero, the old man admired Agamemnon: - “Happy art thou, Atrides, in birth, and in name, and in fortune; - Many are under thy sway--the flower of the sons of Achæa. - Once into vine-bearing Phrygia I entered, and saw many Phrygians - Riding swift steeds, the forces of Otreus and Mygdon, the godlike, - Who, with me for an ally, encamped by the banks of the Sangar, - Waiting the march of their foes, the Amazons, warrior-women: - But few in number were they to those quick-eyed sons of Achæa.” - - Next, perceiving Ulysses, the old man said, “My dear Helen, - Tell me who this is also--in stature less than Atrides, - Less by a head, it may be, but broader in chest and in shoulders. - Rest on the ground his arms; but he through the ranks of the army - Ranges about like a ram; to a thick-fleeced ram I compare him, - Wandering hither and thither through snow-white sheep in the pasture?” - - Him then answered Helen--Helen of Jove descended: - “That is Ulysses, my father, the wily son of Laertes, - Nourished in Ithaca’s isle--Ithaca rocky and barren; - Skilled to contrive and complete wise plans and politic counsels.” - - Her then the sage Antenor addressed, when she spake of Ulysses: - “Lady, in truth thou hast uttered these words; for once, I remember, - Hither the noble Ulysses came with the brave Menelaus, - (Thou wast the cause of his coming) and I was their host in my palace, - And of both the heroes I learned the genius and wisdom. - When they met in the Council, with Trojan heroes assembled, - Standing, Ulysses was less by a head than the brave Menelaus-- - Sitting, more honour was due to the thoughtful brow of Ulysses. - And when they wove, for the general ear, their thoughts into language, - Menelaus harangued very freely and briefly, and clearly, - Never missing his words, nor misapplying their meaning, - Though, as to years, not yet was he reckoned among the elders. - But when Ulysses arose, with his head full of wariest measures, - Standing, he fixed his eyes on the ground, and kept looking downwards, - Moving his sceptre nor backwards nor forwards, but holding it firmly, - Looking like one not wise; and those who beheld him might fancy - That he was deeply enraged, and thus bereft of his reason. - But when, as I have seen, he sent his great voice from his bosom, - Words that came thick and fast, like the flakes of the snow in the winter, - Then he that listened would say, no man might compete with Ulysse; - Then we forgot how he looked as the words of Ulysses enchained us.” - - Thirdly, on seeing Ajax, the old King of Helen demanded: - “Who, so stately and tall, is this other chief of the Grecians, - Rising as high o’er the rest as the height of his head and - broad shoulders?” - - And thus the comely-robed Helen, the fairest of women, responded: - “He thou beholdest is Ajax, gigantic--to Grecians a bulwark! - And over there, like a god, Idomeneus stands ’mong the Cretans, - While around him the chiefs of the Cretan army are gathered. - Many a time has the brave Menelaus bidden him welcome, - When to our Spartan home he came from the land of the Cretans. - - But while I see all around, the rest of the dark-eyed Achæeans, - Whom I well know, and whose names I could tell, two captains I see not-- - Castor, tamer of steeds, and Pollux, skilful in boxing-- - Both own brothers of mine: we three were nursed by one mother. - Either they have not come with the forces from far Lacedæmon, - Or having come, it may be, to this place, in sea-traversing vessels, - Do not desire, after all to enter the battle of heroes, - Fearing the shame and reproach the crime of their sister would - cause them.” - - So she spake; but them the life-giving earth was embracing - In the dear land of their fathers over the sea, Lacedæmon! - - - - - SONG OF THE TROJAN CAPTIVE. - - (_Euripidis Hecuba_, 905.) - - - I. - - O my Ilion, once we named thee - City of unconquered men; - But the Grecian spear has tamed thee, - Thou canst never rise again. - Grecian clouds thy causeways darken;-- - Ah! they cannot hide thy glory! - Ages hence shall heroes hearken - To the wonders of thy story. - - - II. - - O my Ilion, they have shorn thee - Of thy lofty crown of towers! - Thy poor daughter can but mourn thee - In her lonely, captive hours. - They have robbed thee of thy beauty, - Made thee foul with smoke and gore; - Tears are now my only duty, - I shall tread thy streets no more. - - - III. - - O my Ilion, I remember-- - ’Twas the hour of sweet repose, - And my husband in our chamber - Slept, nor dreamt of Grecian foes. - For the song and feast were over, - And the spear was hung to rest-- - Never more, my hero-lover, - Aimed by thee at foeman’s breast. - - - IV. - - O my Ilion, at the mirror - I was binding up my hair, - When my face grew pale with terror - At the cry that rent the air. - Hark! amid the din, the Grecian - Shout of triumph “Troy is taken; - Ten years’ work have now completion-- - Ilion’s haughty towers are shaken!” - - - V. - - O my Ilion, forth I hied me - From his happy home and mine; - Hapless, soon the Greeks descried me, - As I knelt at Phœbe’s shrine. - Then, my husband slain before me, - To the shore they hurried me, - And from all I loved they tore me - Fainting o’er the cruel sea. - - - - - BELLEROPHON. - - (_Iliad_ vi. 152-195.) - - - In a far nook of steed-famed Argos, stand - The city Ephyra. Here Sisyphus, - The wily son of Æolus, was king. - - His son was Glaucus, and to him was born - Bellerophon of honour without stain, - Gifted with every grace the gods bestow, - And manly spirit that won all men’s love. - - Him Prœtus, who by Jove’s supreme consent - Held a harsh sceptre over Argolis, - Hated and doomed to exile or to death. - For fair Antea loved Bellerophon - With a mad passion, and, her royal spouse - Deceiving, told her longing to his guest. - But brave Bellerophon, as good as brave, - Set a pure heart against her evil words. - Then with false tongue she stood before the king: - “O Prœtus, die or slay Bellerophon, - Who sought her love, who only loveth thee.” - And anger seized the king at what he heard, - Yet was he loath to kill him, for the laws - That make the stranger sacred he revered. - But unto Lycia, bearing fatal signs, - And folded in a tablet, words of death, - He sent him, and enjoined him these to give - Unto Antea’s sire--his step-father, - Thinking that he would perish. - - So he went, - Blameless, beneath the guidance of the gods, - And reached the eddying Xanthus. There the king - Of wide-extending Lycia honoured him - Nine days with feasting and with sacrifice. - But when the tenth rose-fingered morn had come, - He asked him for his message and the sign - Whate’er he bore from Prœtus,--which he gave. - - And when he broke the evil-boding seal, - He first enjoined him the Chimæra dire - To slay,--of race divine and not of men, - In front a lion, dragon in the rear, - And goat between, whose breath was as the strength - Of fiercely blazing fire. And this he slew, - Trusting the portents of the gods. And next - He conquered the wild, far-famed Solymi,-- - The hardest battle fought with mortal men. - The man-like Amazons he next subdued; - And as he journed homeward, fearing nought, - An ambuscade of Lycia’s bravest men, - Attacked him, but he slew them one by one, - And they returned no more. - - And so the king - Seeing his race divine by noble deeds - Well proven, made the Lycian realm his home, - His beauteous daughter gave him for his wife, - And made him partner in his royal power. - And of the choicest land for corn and wine, - The Lycians gave him to possess and till. - - - - - HORACE. - - (_Book_ i. _Ode_ xi.) - - - Seek not to know (for ’tis as wrong as vain) - What term of life to thee or me - The god may grant, Leuconoe, - Nor with Chaldean numbers vex thy brain. - But calmly take what comes of joy or pain, - Whether Jove grant us many winters more, - Or this complete our destiny - Which makes the stormy Tuscan sea - Weary its strength with angry shocks - Against the hollow-echoing rocks. - Be gently wise, my friend, and while you pour - The ruddy wine, live long by living well. - While we are speaking, hark! time’s envious knell! - Let us enjoy to-day, nor borrow - Vague grief by thinking of to-morrow. - - - - - ORPHEUS AND EURYDICE. - - (_From_ VIRGIL--_Georgic_ IV. 457-527.) - - - The fair, young bride of Orpheus, as she fled - From Aristæus who designed her ill, - With hasty feet, along the river bank - Of Hebrus, found her death. For in her way - There lurked a baleful serpent ’mid the grass. - - Full long the choir of Dryads mourned her fate, - And set the mountains wailing with their woe. - Pangæus answered back to Rhodope, and grief - Held all the land of Rhesus, dear to Mars; - And Hebrus, weeping, rolled to distant shores - The story of the dead Eurydice. - - But Orpheus in his sorrow touched his harp, - And, sitting by the wild beach all alone, - Sang from the rising till the setting sun - Of his own sweet, lost wife Eurydice. - Till, drawing solace to his wounded love, - Through the fierce jaws of Tænarus he passed, - The gates of Hades, and the gloomy grove, - All thick with darkest horror, and, at last, - Entered the drear abodes where Pluto reigns - Among the dead--inexorable king. - - And then he put his fingers to the strings - And sang of her he loved, Eurydice; - And made such sweet, enchanting melody - That all the ghosts of Erebus were charmed, - And hied from all recesses at the sound; - Gathering around him, many as the birds - That hide themselves by thousands ’mid the leaves - Of some sweet-smelling grove, when eventide - Or wintry shower calls them from the hills. - - The shades of mothers, sires and mighty men, - Of maids for whom the torch was never lit, - And boys whose pyres their parents’ eyes had seen, - Listened, enchained, and for a while forgot - The slimy weeds that grew upon the banks, - Of black Cocytus, and the hateful Styx, - Whose nine slow streams shut out the happy world. - And even Tartarus, Death’s deepest home, - Was stricken with amazement; and the rage - Of snake-tressed Furies ceased; and Cerberus - Restrained his triple roar, and hellish blasts - Forbore a while to turn Ixion’s wheel. - - And now, all danger past, to upper air - He turned his eager feet, Eurydice - Restored, near-following (for Proserpine - Had so enjoined), when Orpheus, mad with joy - And longing to behold her face once more, - Paused and looked back, unmindful. Fatal look, - That robbed him of his treasure on the verge - Of full fruition in the world’s broad light! - No hope of mercy; Hell no mercy knows - For broken law. This Orpheus learned too late, - When triple thunder bellowed through the deeps - Of dark Avernus. - - Then Eurydice: - “What frenzy, Orpheus, has possessed thy soul - To ruin thee and me, ah! wretched me, - Whom now the Fates call back to Hades’ gloom! - Alas! the sleep of death is on my eyes. - Farewell, my Orpheus! darkness hems me round-- - Farewell! in vain I stretch weak hands to thee-- - Thine, thine no more! Farewell! Farewell!” - She said, - And vanished from his sight away, as smoke - Fades into viewless air, nor saw she more - Her Orpheus. - - He in vain the fleeting shade - Sought to restrain with outspread hands; in vain - Essayed to speak, dumb-stricken with surprise; - In vain, to cross the gloomy Stygian wave. - Alas! what could he do, or whither go, - Since she was gone, the sum of all his joy? - Or, with what tears, what plaintive, moving words, - Seek respite from the gods that rule below - For her who, shivering, crossed the darksome stream? - - So passed she from him; and, for seven long months - Beneath a rock by Strymon’s lonely flood - He wailed her fate and his, till all the caves - Re-echoed mournfully, and savage beasts, - Assuaged, knew milder breasts, and strength of oaks - Was captive led by magic of his song. - Even as, in woods, beneath a poplar’s shade - Lone Philomel laments her callow brood, - Robbed from the nest by cruel, churlish hands; - And she, poor childless mother, all night long, - Perched on a branch, renews the doleful strain, - And with her plaints makes all the grove resound; - So Orpheus mourned Eurydice, nor dreamed - Of other love, nor other nuptial tie. - Alone, ’mid Boreal ice, and by the banks - Of snow-girt Tanais, and through the plains - That feel the chill breath of Niphæan hills, - He sang the loss of sweet Eurydice - And Pluto’s bootless gift. And even when - The Thracian maidens maddened at the slight - Of their own beauty in such lasting grief - And wild from Bacchic orgies, slew the bard, - Strewing the broad fields with his severed limbs; - Then, even then, when Hebrus bore away - The tuneful head torn from the marble neck, - The cold lips, faithful still to their lost love, - Murmured, “Eurydice! Eurydice!” - And the sad banks replied “Eurydice!” - - - - - ADRIAN’S ADDRESS TO HIS SOUL. - - (_From Catullus._) - - - Animula! vagula, blandula, - Hospes, comesque corporis, - Quæ nunc abibis in loca, - Pallidula rigida, nudula - Nec, ut soles, dabis jocos? - - The same rendered into English: - - - VERSION I. - - Darling, gentle, wandering soul, - Long this body’s friend and guest, - Tell what region is thy goal, - Pale and cold and all undrest, - Lost thy wonted play and jest? - - - VERSION II. - - Spirit! sweet, gentle thing, - Thou seemest taking wing - For some new place of rest; - So long this body’s guest - And friend, dost thou forsake it, - And pallid, cold, and naked, - Thou wanderest, - Bereft of joy and jest, - Whither, ethereal thing? - - - VERSION III. - - Dear, pretty, fluttering, vital thing, - So long this body’s guest and friend, - Ah! tell me, whither dost thou wend - Thy lonely way, - Pallid and nude and shivering, - Nor, as thy wont is, gently gay? - - - - - PYRAMUS AND THISBE. - - (_From Ovid’s “Metamorphoses.”_) - - - Fairest of many youths was Pyramus, - And Thisbe beauteous among Eastern maids. - These dwelt in neighbour houses, where, of old, - Semiramis girt Babylon with walls. - And, being neighbours, these two fell in love, - And love with time grew stronger. They had wed, - But that their parents willed it not, and so - Forbade all intercourse. With mutual breasts, - Each sighed for other. Parted thus, they spoke - By signs, and, being hindered, loved the more. - - There was an opening in the common wall - That made their houses two, long unobserved, - But (what does not love see?) by them discerned. - Of this they made a passage for the voice, - And, safe from notice, murmured loving words. - As oftentimes they stood, the wall between, - Whispering and catching soft replies in turn, - “O envious wall, that standest in our way, - Who love each other!” they would, vexed, exclaim, - “If thou would’st let us meet full face to face, - Or e’en enough to touch each other’s lips! - And yet we are not thankless; ’tis to thee - We owe this pleasure of exchanging words.” - - Thus oft conversing, at approach of night, - They said “farewell,” and kissed with longing lips, - That never met, the wall that stood between; - And when Aurora quenched the fires of night, - And Phœbus dried the dew upon the grass, - They came again unto the trysting place. - - Once, having come and many plaints exchanged - Of their sad lot, they each with each agreed - To leave their homes, and in the silent night - Baffling their guardians, through the quiet streets, - Pass to the fields, and meet at Ninus’ tomb. - There stood a tree with snow-white fruit adorned-- - A lofty mulberry--a cool fount close by; - This was to be their trysting-place. - - That day - Was slow to vanish in the western sea. - Then in the darkness Thisbe issued forth, - With stealthy footsteps, and with close-veiled face. - She reached the tomb, and ’neath the trysting-tree - Sat down (love made her confident); when, lo! - A lioness, her mouth all froth and blood, - From recent slaughter, came to quench her thirst - At the near fountain. - - Thisbe saw her come, - (For the moon shone) and fled with frightened feet - Into a cave, and, running, dropt her veil; - Which, having quenched her thirst, the lioness, - Returning, found, and tore with bloody mouth. - - Just then, came Pyramus with later feet, - Who saw the lion’s tracks deep in the soil, - And paled with sudden fear. But when he found - His Thisbe’s garment stained with blood, he cried, - “One fatal night two lovers shall destroy, - Of whom she was the worthier of life! - My soul is guilty, O dear perished love, - Who bade thee come at night to scenes of dread, - And let thee come the first. O lions! rush - From where you have your dens beneath the rock, - And tear these cursed limbs with ruthless teeth! - But--’tis a coward’s part to wish for death.” - - Then with the veil he seeks the trysting-tree, - And to its cherished folds gives kisses, tears, - And to his sword, “Drink now my blood,” he cries, - And sinks it in his heart, and draws it forth, - And falling, lies at length with upturned face. - The blood spurts forth, as when a pipe that’s burst - Throws from the hissing gap a slender jet, - Beating the obstant air with watery blows. - The trysting-tree is sprinkled with his blood, - Till its fair fruit is changed to gloomy black. - - Then Thisbe, half afraid e’en yet, returns, - Lest Pyramus should miss her. Eagerly, - With eyes and heart, she looks for her beloved, - Burning to tell him of the danger past. - But when she gained the place and saw the tree - Sadly discoloured, she was sore in doubt - Whether or no it was the very spot; - Till, all aghast, she saw the blood-stained ground - And quivering limbs, and started, horror-struck, - Trembling as does the sea beneath a breeze. - And when she recognized her dear one’s face, - She threw her tender arms above her head, - And tore her hair, and the dear form embraced, - Filling the wound with tears, and with her lips - Touched the cold face, and called him by his name; - “Pyramus, answer, thine own Thisbe calls! - Oh! hear me, Pyramus, look up once more!” - Touched by the voice, he oped his dying eyes, - Then closed them on the world for evermore. - - She now saw all--her veil--the empty sheath. - “Ah! hapless love,” she said, “hath slain my love, - But love will make me strong like him to die, - Fearing no wounds; for I will follow him, - The wretched cause--his comrade, too, in death: - And death that parted us shall re-unite. - O wretched parents of a wretched pair, - Whom true love bound together to the last, - Hear this, my dying voice, and not refuse - To let our ashes mingle in one urn. - O trysting-tree, whose funeral branches shade - The corse of one, and soon shall wave o’er two, - Henceforth forever be our mark of fate,-- - Bear in thy fruit the memory of our death!” - She spake these words, and fell upon the sword, - And the point entered deep within her breast. - His blood, yet warm, was mingled with her own. - - Her dying prayer the gods in heaven heard, - Her dying prayer touched the lone parents’ hearts, - And both their ashes mingle in one urn. - - - - - THE WITHERED LEAF. - - (_From the French of A. V. Arnault._) - - “De ta tige détachée.” - - - “From thy branchlet torn away, - Whither, whither dost thou stray, - Poor dry leaf?”--“I cannot say. - Late, the tempest struck the oak, - Which was hitherto my stay. - Ever since that fatal stroke, - To the faithless winds a prey, - Not a moment’s rest I gain. - From the forest to the plain, - I am carried by the gale. - Yet I only go the way - That the rose-leaf shuns in vain, - And where laurel-leaves grow pale.” - - - - - ANDRÉ CHÉNIER’S DEATH-SONG. - - André Chénier, for having dared to write against the excesses of his - countrymen, was summoned before the Revolutional Tribunal, condemned - and executed, in the year 1794. The first eight stanzas (in the - translation) he composed in prison, after his condemnation; the two - last he wrote at the foot of the scaffold, while waiting to be dragged - to execution. He had just finished the line, “Le sommeil du tombeau - pressera ma paupière,” when his turn came, and his words had their - fulfillment. In the translation, the spirit, not the letter, has been - regarded. - - - When one lone lamb is bleating in the shambles, - And gleams the ruthless knife, - His yester playmates pause not in their gambols, - Their wild, free joy of life, - - To think of him; the little ones that played - With him in sunny hours, - In bright green fields, and his fair form arrayed - With ribbons gay and flowers, - Mark not his absence from the fleecy throng; - Unwept he sheds his blood; - And this sad destiny is mine. Ere long - From this grim solitude - - I pass to death. But let me bear my fate, - And calmly be forgot; - A thousand others in the self-same state - Await the self-same lot. - - And what were friends to me? Oh! one kind voice - Heard through those prison-bars, - Did it not make my drooping heart rejoice, - Though from my murderers - - ’Twas bought, perhaps? Alas! how soon life ends! - And yet why should my death - Make any one unhappy? Live, my friends. - Nor think my fleeting breath - - Calls you to come. Mayhap, in days gone by, - I, too, from sight of sorrow - Turned, careless, with self-wrapt unpitying eye, - Not dreaming of the morrow. - - And now misfortune presses on my heart, - Erewhile so strong and free, - ’Twere craven to ask you to bear its smart-- - Farewell, nor think of me! - - * * * * * - - As a faint ray or zephyr’s latest breath - Revives the dying day, - Beneath the scaffold, that stern throne of death, - I sing my parting lay. - - Before an hour, with wakeful foot and loud, - Has marked its journey’s close - On yon bright disc, the sleep of death shall shroud - Mine eyes from worldly woes! - - - - - THE LAKE. - - (_From Lamartine._) - - - I. - - For ever drifting towards shores unknown, - In endless night, returnless, borne away, - We never, in Time’s sea our anchor thrown, - Pause for a single day! - - - II. - - O Lake, I come alone to sit by thee, - Upon the stone where thou didst see her rest, - Hardly a year ago, it seems, when she - Looked on thy wavy breast! - - - III. - - Thus didst thou threaten to those stooping rocks, - Thus on their wave-worn sides thou then didst beat, - Thus did thy foam, aroused by windy shocks, - Play round my darling’s feet! - - - IV. - - One evening, as we floated on the calm, - And not a sound was heard afar or near, - Save oary music mingling firm and clear, - With thy soft rippling psalm,-- - - - V. - - Then, all at once, sweet tones, too sweet for earth, - Awoke the sleeping echoes into bliss, - The waves grew hushed, the voice I loved gave birth - To such a strain as this: - - - 1. - - “O Time, suspend thy flight, and happy hours, - Linger upon your ways! - Oh! let us know the fleeting joy that’s ours - These brightest of our days! - - - 2. - - For the unhappy ones who thee implore, - Flow swiftly as thou canst, - With all their cares; but leave us, pass us o’er - In happiness entranced! - - - 3. - - Alas! in vain I ask some moments more, - For Time escapes and flies! - I ask this night to linger; lo, the power - Of darkness quickly dies! - - - 4. - - But let us love, and, while we may, be blest, - Before our hour is gone! - Nor time, nor man has any point of rest, - _It_ flows, and _we_ float on!” - - - VI. - - O jealous Time! those moments of delight, - When Love pours bliss in streams upon the heart, - Must they fly from us with as swift a flight - As days of ill depart? - - - VII. - - Alas! can we not even mark the track? - _Forever lost!_ like all that went before! - And Time that gave them and then took them back - Shall give them back no more! - - - VIII. - - O Lake, mute rocks and caves and forest shade, - Whose beauty Time is powerless to blight, - Dear nature, suffer not the thought to fade - Of that sweet, happy night! - - - IX. - - Still let it live in all thy scene, fair Lake, - In calm and storm, and make thy smiles more bright, - And every tree and rock new meaning take - From that sweet, happy night. - - - X. - - Let it be heard in every passing breeze, - And in the sound of shore to shore replying, - Let it be seen in every star that sees - Its image in thee lying! - - - XI. - - And let the moaning wind and sighing reed, - And the light perfume of the balmy air, - All that is heard or seen or felt declare, - “_They loved--they loved, indeed_!” - - - - - THE WANDERING JEW. - - (_From Beranger._) - - - I. - - Christian, a pilgrim craves from you - A glass of water at your door! - I am--I am--the Wandering Jew-- - Chained to a whirlwind evermore! - Though ever young, weighed down with years, - The end of Time my one glad dream; - Each night I hope the end appears, - Each morning brings its cursed gleam. - Never, never, - Till this earth its race has run, - Shall my goal of death be won. - - - II. - - For eighteen centuries, alas! - Over the dust of Greece and Rome, - I’ve seen a thousand kingdoms pass,-- - And yet the end delays to come. - I’ve seen the good spring up in vain, - I’ve seen the ill wax strong and bold, - And from the bosom of the main - I’ve seen twin worlds succeed the old. - Never, never, - Till this earth its race has run, - Shall my goal of death be won. - - - III. - - God gives me life to punish me; - I cling to all that hopes for death, - But ere my soul’s desire I see, - I feel the whirlwind’s vengeful breath. - How many a poor, sad man of grief - Has asked from me the means to live! - But none from me has gained relief,-- - My hand has never time to give! - Never, never, - Till this earth its race has run, - Shall my goal of death be won. - - - IV. - - Alone, in shade of downing trees, - Upon the turf, where water flows, - If I enjoy a moment’s ease, - The whirlwind breaks my short repose. - Oh! might not angry heaven allow - One moment stolen from the sun! - Is less than endlessness enow? - Or shall this journey ne’er be done? - Never, never, - Till this earth its race has run, - Shall my goal of death be won. - - - V. - - If e’er I see a child’s sweet face, - And in its pretty, joyous pride, - My own lost innocents’ retrace, - The Hoarse Voice grumbles at my side. - Oh! you, who lust for length of days, - Dare not to envy my career! - That sweet child-face on which I gaze - Shall long be dust while I am here! - Never, never, - Till this earth its race has run, - Shall my goal of death be won. - - - VI. - - I find some trace of those old walls, - Where I was born long, long ago; - I fain would stay, the whirlwind calls-- - “Pass on! thy fathers sleep below, - But in their tombs no place is kept - For thee; thou still must wander on, - Nor sleep till all thy race has slept, - And all the pride of man is gone.” - Never, never, - Till this earth its race has run, - Shall my goal of death be won. - - - VII. - - I outraged with a laugh of scorn - The God-man in His hour of woe-- - But from my feet the way is torn-- - _I feel the whirlwind_--I must go. - You, who feel not another’s pain, - Tremble--and help him while you can; - The crime I dared was foul disdain - Not of God only, but of Man. - Never, never, - Till this earth its race has run, - Shall my goal of death be won. - - - FINIS. - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Prophecy of Merlin and Other Poems, by -John Reade - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PROPHECY OF MERLIN *** - -***** This file should be named 55170-0.txt or 55170-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/5/1/7/55170/ - -Produced by Larry B. 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You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license - - -Title: The Prophecy of Merlin and Other Poems - -Author: John Reade - -Release Date: July 22, 2017 [EBook #55170] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PROPHECY OF MERLIN *** - - - - -Produced by Larry B. Harrison, Chuck Greif and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive) - - - - - - -</pre> - -<hr class="full" /> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/cover.jpg" width="369" height="500" alt="[Image -of the book's cover unavailable.]" /> -</div> - -<h1><small><small>THE</small></small><br /> -<span class="smcap">Prophecy of Merlin</span><br /> -<small><small>AND<br /> -O T H E R P O E M S.</small></small></h1> - -<p class="c">BY<br /><br /> -JOHN READE. -<br /><br />MONTREAL:<br /> -<span class="smcap">Published by Dawson Brothers</span>.<br />——<br /> -1870. -<br /><br /> - -Entered according to Act of Parliament, in the year 1870, by<br /> -<span class="smcap">John Reade</span>,<br /> -in the Office of the Minister of Agriculture.<br /> -<br /> -<small>MONTREAL: PRINTED BY THE MONTREAL PRINTING AND PUBLISHING CO.</small><br /> -</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“O living friends that love me!<br /></span> -<span class="i1">O dear ones gone above me!<br /></span> -<span class="i1">Careless of other fame,<br /></span> -<span class="i1">I leave to you my name.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i5">* * * *<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i1">Sweeter than any sung<br /></span> -<span class="i1">My songs that found no tongue;<br /></span> -<span class="i1">Nobler than any fact<br /></span> -<span class="i1">My wish that failed of act.”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i9"><span class="smcap">J. G. Whittier.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="CONTENTS" id="CONTENTS"></a>CONTENTS.</h2> - -<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary=""> - -<tr><td> </td><td class="rt"><small>PAGE</small></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#THE_PROPHECY_OF_MERLIN">The Prophecy of Merlin</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_003">3</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#DEVENISH">Devenish</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_029">29</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#KINGS_OF_MEN">Kings of Men</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_031">31</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#VASHTI">Vashti</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_032">32</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#SHAKSPERE">Shakspere</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_038">38</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#SPRING">Spring</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_045">45</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#IN_MEMORIAM1">In Memoriam</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_048">48</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#WINTER">Winter</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_054">54</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#PER_NOCTEM_PLURIMA_VOLVENS">Per Noctem Plurima Volvens</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_055">55</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#BALAAM">Balaam</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_059">59</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#GOOD_NIGHT">Good Night</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_069">69</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#WINTER_SUNSHINE">Winter Sunshine</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_072">72</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#CHRISTUS_SALVATOR">Christus Salvator</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_073">73</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#DEW">Who hath Begotten the Drops of Dew?</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_074">74</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#THALATTA_THALATTA">Thalatta! Thalatta!</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_076">76</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#RIZPAH">Rizpah</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_078">78</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#NATALIE">Natalie</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_081">81</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#THE_FENIAN_RAID">The Fenian Raid (June, ’66)</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_084">84</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#Humanum_est_errare_Divinum_condonare">Humanum est Errare</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_086">86</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#SING_ME_THE_SONGS_I_LOVE">Sing me the Songs I Love</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_087">87</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#IN_MEMORIAM2">In Memoriam—T. D. McGee</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_089">89</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#KILLYNOOGAN">Killynoogan</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_092">92</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#What_can_I_do">What Can I Do?</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_098">98</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#HASTINGS">Hastings</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_099">99</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#THE_NAUGHTY_BOY">The Naughty Boy</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_103">103</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#ROSA">Rosa</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_106">106</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#JUBAL">Jubal</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_108">108</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#APOLLO_DROPT_A_SEED_OF_SONG">Apollo Dropt a Seed of Song</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_119">119</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#VOX_DEI">Vox Dei</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_120">120</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#THE_OLD_WAR-HORSE">The Old War-horse</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_121">121</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#ELOISE">Eloise</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_125">125</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#WHEN_THE_SPRING-TIME_COMES">When the Spring-time Comes</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_126">126</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#HOPE">Hope</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_130">130</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#DOMINION_DAY">Dominion Day</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_131">131</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#IN_MY_HEART">In My Heart</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_143">143</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#SISERA">Sisera</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_146">146</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#COLUMBA_SIBYLLA">Columba Sibylla</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_148">148</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#SUMMER_IS_DEAD">Summer is Dead</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_149">149</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#ON_A_DEAD_FIELD-FLOWER">To a Dead Field Flower</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_151">151</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#LINES">The Departure of the Prince of Wales from Portland</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_154">154</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#ODE_ON_THE_MARRIAGE_OF_THE_PRINCE_OF_WALES">Ode on the Prince of Wales’ Marriage</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_157">157</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#TO_A_SNOWBIRD">To a Snow-bird</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_160">160</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#THE_CLOUDS_ARE_BLUSHING">The Clouds are Blushing</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_161">161</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#UNSPOKEN">Unspoken</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_163">163</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#JEPHTHAH">Jephthah</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_166">166</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#DE_PROFUNDIS">De Profundis</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_169">169</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#LOCHLEVEN">Lochleven</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_172">172</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#UNUS_ABEST">Unus Abest</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_174">174</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#THE_PRODIGALS_RETURN">The Prodigal’s Return</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_176">176</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#IT_IS_THE_QUIET_HOUR">It is the Quiet Hour</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_178">178</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#HECTOR_AND_ANDROMACHE">Hector and Andromache,—</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#PARTING"> The Parting</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_181">181</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#THE_LAMENT"> The Lament of Andromache</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_189">189</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#THE_BEACON_LIGHT_ANNOUNCING_THE_FALL_OF_TROY_AT_ARGOS">The Beacon Light</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_194">194</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#PRIAM_AND_HELEN">Priam and Helen</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_198">198</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#SONG_OF_THE_TROJAN_CAPTIVE">Song of the Trojan Captive</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_205">205</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#BELLEROPHON">Bellerophon</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_208">208</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#HORACE">Horace, Ode xi. Book I.</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_211">211</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#ORPHEUS_AND_EURYDICE">Orpheus and Eurydice</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_212">212</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#ADRIANS_ADDRESS_TO_HIS_SOUL">Adrian’s Address to his Soul</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_217">217</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#PYRAMUS_AND_THISBE">Pyramus and Thisbe</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_219">219</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#THE_WITHERED_LEAF">The Withered Leaf</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_225">225</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#ANDRE_CHENIERS_DEATH-SONG">André Chénier’s Death-song</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_226">226</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#THE_LAKE">The Lake</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_229">229</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#THE_WANDERING_JEW">The Wandering Jew</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_233">233</a></td></tr> -</table> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_001" id="page_001"></a>{1}</span></p> - -<h2>POEMS.</h2> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_002" id="page_002"></a>{2}</span> </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_003" id="page_003"></a>{3}</span> </p> - -<h3><a name="THE_PROPHECY_OF_MERLIN" id="THE_PROPHECY_OF_MERLIN"></a>THE PROPHECY OF MERLIN.</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Sir Bedivere, in silence, watched the barge<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That bore away King Arthur to the vale<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of Avalon, till it was seen no more.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then, on the beach, alone amid the dead,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He lifted up his voice and sorely wept.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“Alas!” he cried, “gone are the pleasant days<br /></span> -<span class="i0">At Camelot, and the sweet fellowship<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of noble knights and true, and beauteous dames<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who have no peers in all the living world,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is quite dissolved for ever, and the King<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Has gone and left none like him among men.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O happy, thrice and fourfold, ye who rest,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Both friends and foemen, in one peaceful bed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While I am sick at soul and cannot die!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Oh! that the battle might be fought again!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then would I surely seek the way to death,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_004" id="page_004"></a>{4}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">And bleed and sleep like you, and be at peace.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But now, ah! whither, whither can I go,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Since he is gone who was my light of life,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And whom to see was bliss? What can I do<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Without the voice that gave my arm its strength?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or wherefore bear a sword, since now no more<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Excalibur points forth to noble deeds?”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">And then he drew his blade, and threw it far<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Into the Lake, and, as he saw it sink,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“Would God,” said he, “that so I followed him.”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">But with the strain his wounds began to bleed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And he grew weak, and sank upon the ground,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And swooned.<br /></span> -<span class="i6">And when he woke, he was aware<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of Merlin, who stood watching by his side.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then cried Sir Bedivere: “O good and wise,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I bid thee welcome, for, in all the world,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There is none other I would fainer see.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet am I sad to see thee, for the King<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is gone, and none is left of all his Knights<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Save me, and I am weary of my life.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_005" id="page_005"></a>{5}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">But Merlin, ere he answered, staunched his wound,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And gave him wine out of a golden flask,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, by the healing art which he possessed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Restored him sound and whole. And then he spake:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“There is no need to tell me, for I know<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All thou would’st say, and knew ere thou wast born<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That all these things should be. But weep no more,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sir Bedivere. The past no man can change,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor make what has been other than it is.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As in the forests of Broceliande,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The leaves fall year by year, and give the oaks<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All bare to wintry blasts, so, swept apace<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Before the breath of Time, the race of men<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Passes away, and may be seen no more.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And yet the breeze of Spring is no less sweet,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which plays around the tender budding leaves,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And calls to life their beauty, that it is<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As well a requiem as baby-song.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So weep not for the days that are no more,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But pray, as the King bade thee, for his soul,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That to his far-off home no sigh may come<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From this, his orphan and unhappy realm,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To mar the melody of Avalon.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_006" id="page_006"></a>{6}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">Then said Sir Bedivere: “O good and wise,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Will he return again to Camelot,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">After his wound is healed, and Guinevere<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Has healed that other wound that vexed his soul,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By purging her own soul of all offence?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And will he not assemble round his board<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The best and bravest knights of Christendom,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And all the fairest ladies of the land,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And reign as erst he reigned in Camelot?”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"> <br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">Then Merlin: “Hid from eyes of common men<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is that which is to be in after days;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And only those can see it in whose souls<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A heavenly brightness has dissolved the mist<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That darkens mortal sight. And even these<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Can see but dimly, as a far-off hill<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Appears at even when the stars surprise<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The lingering kisses of the parting sun.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But I, thou knowest well, Sir Bedivere,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Am not of mortal race, nor was I born<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of human mother nor of human sire.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Mine is the blazonry of prophet souls<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_007" id="page_007"></a>{7}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whose lineage finds in God its kingly head.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To me what was and that which is to come<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Are ever present, and I grow not old<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With time, but have the gift of endless youth.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As one who stands beside a placid stream,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Watching the white sails passing slowly down,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And knows a fatal whirlpool waits them all,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And yet, the while, is powerless to save,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So watch I all the ages passing by<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Adown the stream of time into the gulf<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From which is no return. Alas! alas!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How oft have I, who ever love the good,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The pure, the brave and wise, wept bitter tears,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As they have passed me, joyous in their course,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And we have held sweet converse, as I thought<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How soon their faces would be seen no more!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sad, sad, Sir Bedivere, the prophet’s gift,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who sees the evil which he cannot heal!”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">And then a gloom o’ershadowed Merlin’s face,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That caused Sir Bedivere to pity him;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And they both wept, as one, amid the dead,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thinking of all the sorrows of the world.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_008" id="page_008"></a>{8}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">But Merlin, when his face grew calm again,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Began: “Come, hearken now, Sir Bedivere,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And I will give an answer to thy quest:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">King Arthur sleeps in Avalon, and many a change<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Must over-pass this land before he wake.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The great White Dragon of the stormy North,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Rearing his crest above the foaming waves,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall shake the ground, and level all the hills,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And war shall follow war,—and blood shall flow<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In every vale,—and smoke of burning towns<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall reach the sky,—and men shall cry for aid<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Unto the sea, to hide them from the foe—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And still shall Arthur sleep in Avalon.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And when the Dragon, sated with the blood<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of Christian men and women, yields at length<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To a mild victor, Tigers of the Sea<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall come, from craggy homes, to rend and tear,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And brave men’s hearts shall quail before their eyes—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet still shall Arthur sleep in Avalon.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The Tigers’ wrath appeased, another foe<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall wave a foreign banner o’er the land,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_009" id="page_009"></a>{9}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">And trample down beneath his horses’ hoofs<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Briton, and Dane, and Saxon, till the ground<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is rank with blood, as when upon the slopes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of Badon Arthur charged the heathen host—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet still the King shall sleep in Avalon.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But as the ages pass, these foes shall join<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In friendship, and a nation shall arise,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like a strong oak amid the forest trees,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which, growing slowly, ceases not to grow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But fastens firmly, as it aims aloft,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And spreads its branches far on every side,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A shelter to the stranger of all lands—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While Arthur still sleeps on in Avalon.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And many Kings shall rule and win renown<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For this now saddened and distracted realm;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And Britain shall be great by land and sea,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And stretch her conquering arms around the world,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And gather treasures from all climes, and teach<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her tongues to distant nations, and her name<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall be a word of praise to all the earth—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While Arthur still sleeps on in Avalon.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_010" id="page_010"></a>{10}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">But though he sleep, he still shall wear the crown<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As rightful lord of Britain, for on him,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The image of a noble Christian King,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The image of a ruler sent of God,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The people still shall look in whoso reigns.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And if there be a King of soul impure—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or if there be a King of hand unjust—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or if there be a King who weighs himself<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Against the nation’s weal (such Kings there are<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And ever shall be until Arthur wake),—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It is the <i>real</i> King the people serve,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The Blameless Prince that never can do wrong,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And not the false usurper of his name.”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">Then, wondering much, broke in Sir Bedivere:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“O Merlin, thou art far too wise for me,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Though well I love thy speech. But, in good sooth,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And plainly, as we speak of common things,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Answer me: Will the King come back again<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In his own fleshly guise, the very same<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As when he feasted erst in Camelot<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With all the Table Round? And will he wear<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The crown, and gird him with Excalibur,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_011" id="page_011"></a>{11}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">And conquer heathen foes, and rid the land<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of all that speaketh lies or doeth wrong?—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or, must he sleep for ever, and his face<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Be hid away from those that love him well?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For, if I thought that it were so to be,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I never could have comfort in my life.”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">Then answered Merlin: “Let me tell my tale<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In my own way, and hearken till the close.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All these things happen not as we desire,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But as the ages need. Such men as he<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Come not without great travail and sore pain;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They are the ripe fruit of the centuries,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who nourish noble thoughts and noble deeds,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Give health and vigour to the sickly times,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And stir the gross blood of the sleepy world;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And when they pass away, their names, endued<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With life, still head the van of truth and right:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So shall the name and spirit of the King,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who ruled in Camelot the Table Round,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Guide Britain into ever-growing fame;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And all her Kings that reign shall reign in him,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The golden type of kingly chivalry.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_012" id="page_012"></a>{12}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">And those three Queens thou sawest, three fair Queens,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So sweet and womanly, who, in the barge,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bore, tenderly, away the wounded King,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall reign in Britain in the after-time,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As, in the old time, Carismandua<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And brave Bonduca whom the Romans feared<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Held a firm sceptre in a gentle hand.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of best and purest Queenhood, they, the type,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As Arthur is the type of Blameless Kings.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And as by three sweet names of holy kin<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They shall be known, so shall they also shew<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A triple sisterhood beneath one crown—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Britain, and Albyn, and green Innisfail.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Now, when the last of three Queens has slept<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For many years, there shall arise a Fourth—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fair, good and wise, and loved by all the land<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of Britain, and by many lands on every sea.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And in her days the world shall have much changed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From that which now we live in. Mysteries,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Save unto me in vision, now unknown,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall then be clear as day. The earth and air<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall yield strange secrets for the use of men,—<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_013" id="page_013"></a>{13}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">The planets, in their courses, shall draw near,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And men shall see their marvels, as the flowers<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That grace the meads of Summer,—time and space<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall know new laws, and history shall walk<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Abreast with fact o’er all the peopled world:—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For words shall flash like light from shore to shore,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And light itself shall chronicle men’s deeds.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Great ships shall plough the ocean without sail,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And steedless chariots shoot with arrowy speed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O’er hill and dale and river, and beneath<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The solid floor we tread,—the silent rocks<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall tell the story of the infant world,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The falling leaf shall shew the cause of things<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sages have sought in vain—and the whole vast<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of sight and sound shall be to men a school<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where they may learn strange lessons; and great truths<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That long have slept in the deep heart of God<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall waken and come forth and dwell with men,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As in the elder days the tented lord<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of countless herds was taught by angel-guests.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And this fair land of Britain then shall be<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Engrailed with stately cities,—and by streams<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where now the greedy wolf roams shall be heard<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_014" id="page_014"></a>{14}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">The multitudinous voice of Industry,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And Labour, incense-crowned, shall hold her court<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where now the sun scarce touches with his beams<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The scattered seeds of future argosies,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That to the furthest limit of the world<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall bear the glory of the British name.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And where a Grecian victor never trod,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And where a Roman banner never waved,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">East, West, and North, and South, and to those Isles,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Happy and rich, of which the poets dreamed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But never saw, set far in Western seas,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beyond the pillars of the heathen god—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall Arthur’s realm extend, and dusky Kings<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall yield obeisance to his conquering fame.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i3">And She, the fourth fair tenant of the throne,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Heir to the ripe fruit of long centuries,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall reign o’er such an empire, and her name,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Clasping the trophies of all ages, won<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By knightly deeds in every land and sea,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall be <span class="smcap">Victoria</span>.<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Then shall come a Prince<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From o’er the sea, of goodly mien and fair,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_015" id="page_015"></a>{15}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, winning her, win all that she has won—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wedded to her, be good as she is pure—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Reigning with her, be wise as she is great—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, loving her, be loved by all the world.”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i3">Then spake Sir Bedivere, all eagerly:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“He, Merlin, is he not our Blameless King,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Returned from his long sleep in Avalon,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To crown the glories of the later world?”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i3">Then Merlin: “Wait a while, Sir Bedivere,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And I will tell thee all.<br /></span> -<span class="i6">In deeds of war,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The rage of battle, and the clangorous charge<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of mailéd knights, and flash of hostile swords,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And flying spears, and din of meeting shields,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And all the use of man-ennobling might<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For Christ and for His Cross, to wrest the land<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From heathen foes—did Arthur win his fame.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For this, by marvels, was he born and bred;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For this, by marvels, was he chosen King;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For this he sent his heralds to all parts<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of the divided realm, to summon forth<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_016" id="page_016"></a>{16}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">All bravest, truest knights of Christendom<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From rude and selfish war to Camelot,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That they might be one heart around himself<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To send new life-blood through the sickly land,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And purge it of the plague of heathennesse.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And had not the foul falsehood of his house<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Broken athwart the true aim of his life,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And set the Table Round against itself,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ere now the heathen Dragon had been crushed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Never again to raise its hideous head<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O’er the fair land that Christ’s apostle blessed.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">This was the purpose that his soul had formed—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Alas! how unaccomplished!—and he hoped<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That gentle peace would be the meed of war,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That ’neath the laurel far and wide would bloom<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The flowers of wisdom, charity and truth,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That holy men and sages, ladies fair<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And famous knights, and those that from earth’s lap<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Gather God’s bounties, and the men whose hands<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Have skilful touch, and those who tell or sing<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of Nature and her marvels, or who fill<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The scroll with records of the misty past,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_017" id="page_017"></a>{17}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">And others of all arts and all degrees,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Should work, each in the place that he had found,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With one pure impulse in the heart of all,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That Britain should be called of all the world<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A blameless people round a Blameless King.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">This purpose Albert, in the after-time,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">(So shall the Prince be named of whom I spake,)<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall take from the dim shrine where it has lain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Scarce touched by dreamy reverence, many an age,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And hold it in the daylight of his life.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But not alone. She whom his heart has won,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With loving aid, shall ever at his side<br /></span> -<span class="i0">(Till death them part) sustain him in his thought.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And these two, nobly mated, each to each<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The sweet and ripe completion, shall be named<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With loyal love and tenderest respect<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By knight and lady, poet, sage and priest,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In mart and camp, in palace and in cot,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By babbling gray-beard and by lisping child,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wherever Britain’s banner is unfurled.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So shall the land grow strong with bonds of peace,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till men believe that wars have ceased to drench<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_018" id="page_018"></a>{18}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">The earth with bloody rain;—and Art shall smile<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On myriad shapes of beauty and of use,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And Wisdom shall have freer scope, and push<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The boulders of old folly from her field,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And men shall walk with larger minds across<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The limits of the superstitious past,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And cull the gold out of the dross of things,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Flinging the dross aside,—and then shall be<br /></span> -<span class="i0">New hopes of better changes yet to be,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When harmony shall reign through all the world,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And interchange of good for common weal<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Be only law.<br /></span> -<span class="i6">A palace shall arise<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beneath the guidance of the Blameless Prince,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The crystal image of his ample mind,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The home of what is best in every clime;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And thither, from all lands beneath the sun,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall crowd the patient workers in all arts,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bringing the treasures of their skill. The hands<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of many nations with a brother’s clasp<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall join together; and the Babel tongues<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of Eastern, Western, Northern, Southern lands<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall strive no more in discord, but, as one,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_019" id="page_019"></a>{19}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall make harmonious music, as of yore<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The sound of four great rivers rose and fell<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Through fragrant splendours in the Eden-world.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And men shall say: ‘Now is the reign of peace,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Foretold by sacred sages, come at last.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And cries of war shall never more be heard<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Through the fair world, but men shall take their swords<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And beat them into ploughshares, and their spears<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And lances they shall turn to pruning-hooks,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nation with nation shall contend no more,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Save as to who may reach the goal of best<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Before the other, for the common good,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And men shall only vie in virtue, skill<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And beauty, fruits of hand and head and heart,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And strength shall be in knowledge and its use,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And right, not might, shall guide men in their acts,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And small and great shall have one common law,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And he, alone, shall be considered just<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who, in a doubtful matter, puts himself<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In his friend’s place. So all men shall be friends:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For each shall see in other but himself,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And love him as himself. This is Christ’s rule,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_020" id="page_020"></a>{20}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which the base world so long has set at nought,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But now restored by our All-blameless Prince,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And preached by gentle act to all the world.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">So shall men say, rejoicing; but, alas!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While yet the words rise from their gladdened hearts,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The olive garland shall begin to fade<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On the sweet brows of peace; and Avarice,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like a gaunt wolf, ever unsatisfied<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As long as one lamb bleats within the fold,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall raise the harsh cry that awakens war.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">In those far lands beyond the Southern Sea,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Traversed by knights who seek the Holy Grail,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The mountains belch forth fire, and flood the slopes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And valleys with the sulphurous tide of hell,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till man and all his works are whelmed beneath.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then, wearied with his rage, the demon sleeps,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And o’er the frozen graves of the long dead<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The hopeful vine grows and the flowers bloom,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And children’s voices and the song of birds<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bid hush the awful memory of the past.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_021" id="page_021"></a>{21}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">But on some doomful night an ominous roar<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Startles the dreaming villager, who, looking<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Forth through his shivering casement, sees the sky<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Alive with fearful forms. The spirits of fire,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Unchained from their long bondage, with fierce joy<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dance onward, bearing death, while smoky palls<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Waver around them. With their ghostly hands<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From wrathful vials they pour blazing streams<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That lick the earth, from which is no escape<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But death—and death comes soon. So after peace,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which men had thought eternal, shall come war,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And chase, with rumbling horror, the sweet dreams<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of gentle harmony throughout the world.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then shall the spirit of the Table Round<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Enter men’s hearts and make their right arms strong<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For deeds of war,—deeds that shall make the eyes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of those who come thereafter flash with pride.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">By many a far-off height and river-side<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall fall such men as fought at Badon-hill<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Warring with heathen foes; and lonely hearths<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall sorrow for the dead who come no more.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_022" id="page_022"></a>{22}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, one war over, others shall succeed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And others; and the blaze of burning towns<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall blot the moon out of the midnight sky.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And some will say: ‘Now is the end at hand<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of all things, and the whole fair world is doomed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To sink in ashy nothingness. The wrath<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of God is kindled for the sins of men.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But when the fiery wave of war has washed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The world, as gold from which the dross is burned,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The nations shall rise purer, and men’s hearts<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall fear the touch of wrong; the slave ashamed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And angry once to see the pitiless sun<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Smile on his chains, shall leap and sing for joy.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Free thought shall take the ancient shield of Truth<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And make it bright, showing the Artist’s work,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Long hid by stains and rust from longing eyes;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And hoary ills shall die, and o’er their graves<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall bloom fair flowers, and trees of goodly fruit<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To gladden and make strong the heart of man.”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i3">Then said Sir Bedivere: “O, good and wise,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_023" id="page_023"></a>{23}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">My heart is full of wonder, and I doubt<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whether or not I listen in a dream<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wrought by thy wizard spells around my soul.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But tell me further of the Blameless Prince,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The image of King Arthur,—or himself,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Albeit thou sayst it not, come back again<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From his long sleep in Avalon. Shall he die,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or shall he live and teach men how to live<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Until the coming of our Master, Christ?”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i3">Then Merlin, with a cloud upon his face,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As thinking of the sorrow that must be,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet with a silver smile about the cloud,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Answered Sir Bedivere: “O, loving well<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And loyal to the last, the Blameless Prince,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The God-sent promise of a better time<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When all men shall be like him, good and wise,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall, when his work is finished, pass away;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the dark shade of sorrow’s wings shall blot<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The sky, and all the widowed land shall mourn;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And chiefly she, his other self, the Queen,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall weep long years in lonely palace-halls,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Missing the music of a silent voice.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_024" id="page_024"></a>{24}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">But, though his voice be silent, in men’s hearts<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall sink the fruitful memory of his life,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And take deep root, and grow to glorious deeds.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And she will write the story of his life<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who loved him, and though tears may blot the page,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Even as they fall, the rainbow hues of hope<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall bless them with Christ’s promise of the time<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When they that sow in tears shall reap in joy.”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i3">Then, sad and sore amazed, Sir Bedivere:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“O, Merlin, Merlin, truly didst thou say<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That hid from eyes of common men like me<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is that which is to be in after days;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For even now I scarce can comprehend<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What thou hast spoken with prophetic lips.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">These things are very far beyond my reach.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">This only do I know, that I am now<br /></span> -<span class="i0">An orphan knight, reft of the royal sire<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That made me knight, giving my soul new birth<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And heirdom to the Christian fellowship<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of the Round Table. Gladly would I give<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All glory ever won by knightly deed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All honour in the ranks of my compeers,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_025" id="page_025"></a>{25}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">All gentle blandishments of ladies fair,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All that I am, or have, or prize the most,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And sink into the meanness of the churl<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That feeds the Saxon’s swine, for but one glimpse<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of my loved lord, King Arthur. But I know<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That he will never more to Camelot<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bring back the glory of his vanished face,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor call me his ‘true knight, Sir Bedivere.’<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So I will pray, even as thou badst me pray,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And as King Arthur bade me, for his soul,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That to his far-off home no sigh may come,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From this his orphan and unhappy realm,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To mar the melody of Avalon.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And though he may not hither come to me,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">May I not hope that I may go to him,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And see him face to face, in that fair land,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whose beauty mortal eye has never seen,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whose music mortal ear has never heard,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whose glory mortal heart has not conceived.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But, Merlin, I would ask thee one thing more,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If thou have patience with my blunter sense<br /></span> -<span class="i0">(For I am but a knight, and thou, a sage,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_026" id="page_026"></a>{26}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">And knowest all things)—prithee, tell me, Merlin,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If, in the far-off after-time, shall come<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A Prince who shall be known by Arthur’s name,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And bear it blamelessly as he did his.”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i3">Then, Merlin, with a wise smile on his face,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Such as a mother wears who gently tries<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To answer the hard question of her child,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Answered Sir Bedivere: “Thou askest well,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And fain am I to answer. That good Prince<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of whom I spake—Albert, the Blameless Prince—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall be the head of many dynasties.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His blood, in after years, shall wear the crown<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of many kingdoms. She who loved him well<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall reign for many years when he is gone,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And round her widowed diadem shall gleam<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The richer halo of a nation’s love,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For her own sake and for the sainted dead.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And she will shed the brightness of her soul<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On Britain’s future Kings, and they shall learn,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Not only from her lips, but from her life,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That who rules well must make Christ’s law his rule.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And of the Good Queen and the Blameless Prince<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_027" id="page_027"></a>{27}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">One son shall be named Arthur. Like the King<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For whom thy heart is sad, Sir Bedivere,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He shall be true, and brave, and generous<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In speech and act to all of all degrees,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And win the unsought guerdon of men’s love.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">In a far land beneath the setting sun,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now and long hence undreamed of (save by me<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who, in my soul’s eye, see the great round world<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whirled by the lightning touches of the sun<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Through time and space),—a land of stately woods,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of swift broad rivers, and of ocean lakes,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The name of Arthur,—him that is to be,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">(Son of the Good Queen and the Blameless Prince),<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall shed new glories upon him we loved.”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i3">Then, by the memories of his lord, the King,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sir Bedivere was quickened into tears,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But, like a boy ashamed to shew wet eyes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Before a boy, he passed his mailéd hand<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Athwart his face, and frightened back his grief.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And seeing Merlin made no sign to speak<br /></span> -<span class="i0">More of the Arthur of the after-time,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_028" id="page_028"></a>{28}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">He took the word: “Thanks, Merlin, thou art kind<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beyond the limit of my gratitude,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I fear me. Sorrow is a selfish thing,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And much exacts from friendship. Still, I thank thee<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That thou hast not gainsayed my utmost quest.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, now, I pray God bless him when he comes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That other Arthur. May he keep his name<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As pure as his who ruled in Camelot;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">May he, in every wise, be like to him,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Save in the pain that comes of love deceived<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And trampled faith; and may his far-off land<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Be great by noble deeds of noble men.”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i3">Then came a sound of music from the Lake,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Like the soft sighing of the summer winds<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Among the pine-trees, and Sir Bedivere<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Turned toward the sound. But as he turned again<br /></span> -<span class="i3">To ask of Merlin what the music meant,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Merlin was gone, and he was all alone—<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Alone upon the beach amid the dead!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_029" id="page_029"></a>{29}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="DEVENISH" id="DEVENISH"></a>DEVENISH.</h3> - -<h4>I.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">’Twas years since I had heard the name,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">When, seen in print, before my eyes<br /></span> -<span class="i3">The old Round Tower seemed to rise,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With silent scorn of noisy fame.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>II.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Our little boat, like water-bird,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Touches the still Lake, breast to breast;<br /></span> -<span class="i3">No sound disturbs the solemn rest<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Save kiss of oar and whisper’d word.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>III.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">All Nature wears a placid smile<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Of gold and blue and tender green;<br /></span> -<span class="i3">And in the setting of the scene<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lies, like a gem, the Holy Isle.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_030" id="page_030"></a>{30}</span></p> - -<h4>IV.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Hushed is the music of the oar;<br /></span> -<span class="i3">A little hand is placed in mine;<br /></span> -<span class="i3">My blood runs wildly, as with wine—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We stand together on the shore.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>V.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O boyish days! O boyish heart!<br /></span> -<span class="i3">In vain I wish you back again!<br /></span> -<span class="i3">O boyish fancy’s first sweet pain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How glorious, after all, thou art!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>VI.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The old Round Tower, the ruined walls,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Where mould’ring bones once knelt in prayer,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">The Latin legend, winding stair,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">These any “tourist’s book” recalls.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>VII.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But, oh! the love, the wild delight,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">The sweet romance of long ago,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">All these have vanished, as the glow<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of eventide fades out at night.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_031" id="page_031"></a>{31}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="KINGS_OF_MEN" id="KINGS_OF_MEN"></a>KINGS OF MEN.</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">As hills seem Alps, when veiled in misty shroud,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Some men seem kings, through mists of ignorance;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Must we have darkness, then, and cloud on cloud,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To give our hills and pigmy kings a chance?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Must we conspire to curse the humbling light,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Lest some one, at whose feet our fathers bowed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Should suddenly appear, full length, in sight,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Scaring to laughter the adoring crowd?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Oh, no! God send us light!—Who loses then?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The king of slaves and not the king of men.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">True kings are kings for ever, crowned of God,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The King of Kings,—we need not fear for them.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Tis only the usurper’s diadem<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That shakes at touch of light, revealing fraud.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_032" id="page_032"></a>{32}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="VASHTI" id="VASHTI"></a>VASHTI.</h3> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>“After these things, when the wrath of King Ahasuerus was appeased, -he remembered Vashti.”—<i>Book of Esther</i> ii. <small>I</small>.</p></div> - -<h4>I.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Is this all the love that he bore me, my husband, to publish my face<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To the nobles of Media and Persia, whose hearts are besotted and base?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Did he think me a slave, me, Vashti, the Beautiful,<a name="FNanchor_A_1" id="FNanchor_A_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_A_1" class="fnanchor">[A]</a> me, Queen of Queens,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To summon me thus for a show to the midst of his bacchanal scenes?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_A_1" id="Footnote_A_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_A_1"><span class="label">[A]</span></a> Vashti means “<i>Beautiful Woman</i>;” Esther means “<i>A Star</i>.”</p></div> - -<h4>II.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I stand like an image of brass, I, Vashti, in sight of such men!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No, sooner, a thousand times sooner, the mouth of the lioness’ den,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_033" id="page_033"></a>{33}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">When she’s fiercest with hunger and love for the hungry young lions that tear<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her breasts with sharp, innocent teeth, I would enter, aye, sooner than there!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>III.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Did he love me, or is he, too, though the King, but a brute like the rest?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I have seen him in wine, and I fancied ’twas then that he loved me the best;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Though I think I would rather have one sweet, passionate word from the heart<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Than a year of caresses that may with the wine that creates them depart.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>IV.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But ever before, in his wine, towards me he shewed honour and grace,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He was King, I was Queen, and those nobles he made them remember their place;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_034" id="page_034"></a>{34}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">But now all is changed: I am vile, they are honoured, they push me aside,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A butt for Memucan, and Shethar, and Meres, gone mad in their pride!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ih">* * * * *<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>V.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Shall I faint? shall I pine? shall I sicken and die for the loss of his love?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Not I; I am queen of myself, though the stars fall from heaven above—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The stars! ha! the torment is there, for my light is put out by a <i>Star</i>,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That has dazzled the eyes of the King and his Court and his Captains of War.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ih">* * * * *<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>VI.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He was lonely, they say, and he looked, as he sat like a ghost at his wine,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On the couch by his side, where, of yore, his Beautiful used to recline.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_035" id="page_035"></a>{35}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">But the King is a slave to his pride, to his oath, and the laws of the Medes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And he cannot call Vashti again, though his poor heart is wounded and bleeds.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>VII.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">So they ransacked the land for a wife, while the King thought of me all the while—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I can see him, this moment, with eyes that are lost for the loss of a smile,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Gazing dreamily on as each maiden is temptingly passed in review,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While the love in his heart is awake with the thought of a face that he knew!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ih">* * * * *<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>VIII.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then <i>she</i> came, when his heart was grown weary with loving the dream of the past!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She is fair—I could curse her for that, if I thought that this passion would last!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_036" id="page_036"></a>{36}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">But, e’en if it last, all the love is for me, and, through good and through ill,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The King shall remember his Vashti, shall think of his Beautiful still.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ih">* * * * *<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>IX.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Oh! the day is a weary burden, the night is a restless strife,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I am sick to the very heart of my soul of this life—this death in life!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Oh! that the glorious, changeless sun would draw me up in his might,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And quench my dreariness in the flood of his everlasting light!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ih">* * * * *<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>X.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">What is it? Oft, as I lie awake and my pillow is wet with tears,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There comes—it came to me just now—a flash, then disappears:<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_037" id="page_037"></a>{37}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">A flash of thought that makes this life a re-enacted scene,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That makes me dream what was, shall be, and what is now, has been.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>XI.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And I, when age on age has rolled, shall sit on the royal throne,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the King shall love his Vashti, his Beautiful, his own;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And for the joy of what has been and what again shall be,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I’ll try to bear this awful weight of lonely misery!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ih">* * * * *<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>XII.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The star! the star! oh! blazing light that burns into my soul!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The star! the star! oh! flickering light of life beyond control!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O King! remember Vashti, thy Beautiful, thy own,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who loved thee and shall love thee still, when Esther’s light has flown!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_038" id="page_038"></a>{38}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="SHAKSPERE" id="SHAKSPERE"></a>SHAKSPERE.<br /><br /> -<small><i>April 23rd, 1864.</i></small></h3> - -<h4>I.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">To-day, three hundred years ago,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A common, English April morn,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In Stratford town a child was born,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Stratford, where Avon’s waters flow.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>II.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">No guns are fired, no joy-bell rings:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But neighbours call to see the boy<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And mother, and to wish them joy,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And then—attend to other things.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>III.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Some years glide by—the boy is man;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">At school they thought him apt to learn;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And now he goes from home to earn<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His livelihood, as best he can.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_039" id="page_039"></a>{39}</span></p> - -<h4>IV.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He takes the stage; he writes a play;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">’Tis well received; he writes again;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">His name is known, and courtly men<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Are glad to hear what he may say.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>V.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For he flings wreaths of pearls abroad,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Like shells or daisies idly strung;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Nor sparing brain, nor pen, nor tongue,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor waiting until men applaud;<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>VI.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But, like a bird, a noble song<br /></span> -<span class="i2">He sings, as Genius teaches him—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Regardless of the critic’s whim—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whether he think it right or wrong.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>VII.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Great Nature’s book he wisely reads:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">He solves the mystery of life,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And cuts, with philosophic knife,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The tangled knot of human deeds.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_040" id="page_040"></a>{40}</span></p> - -<h4>VIII.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Man’s passion—madness, hatred, guile,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Hope, mercy, friendship, honour, truth;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The griefs of age—the joys of youth;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The patriot’s tear—the villain’s smile;<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>IX.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The modest gem—the tinselled gaud,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of noble worth or base pretence;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The glory bought at blood’s expense;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The power gained by force or fraud—<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>X.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">On these his sun of genius shone,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Making a wondrous photograph,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Till even critics ceased to laugh,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And owned the picture nobly done.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>XI.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The chromatrope of woman’s heart;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The words forgot with passion’s breath;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The vanity that conquers death;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The feathery smile that wings a dart;<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_041" id="page_041"></a>{41}</span></p> - -<h4>XII.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The gentle care that makes man blest;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The truth far more than jewels worth;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The love that makes a heaven of earth—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All these to him were manifest.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>XIII.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He touches the historic page—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The dead return to life again,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And feel and speak like real men,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hero or lover, king or sage.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>XIV.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The realms of air, with potent wand,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">He enters boldly as a king;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And fays, that float on viewless wing,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sing dreamy songs at his command!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>XV.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And witches point, with palsied hand,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And blast the air with hellish chime;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And ghosts revisit earth a time,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With messages from spirit-land!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_042" id="page_042"></a>{42}</span></p> - -<h4>XVI.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He calls, and what men fancied dumb,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Hills, groves, and lakes, and brooks, and stones,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Answer him in a thousand tones,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till silence makes a joyous hum.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>XVII.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">In fine, he made “the world a stage,”<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And all upon it act their parts—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">By Nature’s prompting and by Art’s—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For Art is Nature taught by age.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>XVIII.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And, singing thus, he passed his days—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Not without honour, it is true—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Yet hardly understood by few,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And these were slow in giving praise.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>XIX.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And men had lived in mist so long,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Some could not bear his blaze of light,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But shut their eyes, and said ’twas night,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When it ’twas just the noon of song.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_043" id="page_043"></a>{43}</span></p> - -<h4>XX.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But when his soul shook off its clay,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And hied, its labour done, to God,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Throughout the land that he had trod,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Twas felt “A King is dead to-day!”<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>XXI.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And now, when centuries have flown,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Some shout, “Come, build a monument,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For all arrears of poet-rent,”—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As if <i>he</i> needed brass or stone!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>XXII.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O man! how oft thy acts have lied!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thou crushest those who strive to live,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And makest poor pretence to give<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fame unto him thou can’st not hide.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>XXIII.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And some are honoured, being dead,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">By those who coldly turned aside,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And gave them, living, but their pride,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When they, perhaps, were needing bread!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_044" id="page_044"></a>{44}</span></p> - -<h4>XXIV.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yet not to all such honour comes—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Only a few bright names are known<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of all the “simple, great ones gone”—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The most are only found on tombs.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>XXV.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But one shall never pass away—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">His, who was born in Stratford town,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When brave Queen Bess wore England’s crown,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Three hundred years ago to-day!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_045" id="page_045"></a>{45}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="SPRING" id="SPRING"></a>SPRING.</h3> - -<h4>I.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O grand, old Earth of God’s and ours,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Once more thou doffest winter’s veil,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Once more the budding trees and flowers<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And birds’ sweet music bid thee hail!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>II.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Is it a time for joy or care,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">O Earth?—a time to laugh or weep?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">What myriads in thy bosom sleep,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And we shall soon lie sleeping there!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>III.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O Earth! ’tis hard to understand<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Why thou should’st thus thy children crave!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For art thou not a mighty grave,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Though strewn with flowers by God’s good hand?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_046" id="page_046"></a>{46}</span></p> - -<h4>IV.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thou hearest not, amid thy mirth,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Nor carest though thy children die,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And senseless in thy bosom lie,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Cold and unthought of, cruel Earth!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>V.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And yet, O Earth! a little seed,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Dropt by man’s hand within thy heart,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thou makest great, and dost impart<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To him again for every need!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>VI.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O Earth! if seed that man lets fall<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Into thy heart, thou givest thus<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Back thirty, sixty-fold to us,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou art not cruel, after all!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>VII.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Nor dost thou, Earth, thy children crave;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">’Tis God that sows them as His seed,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And by and bye they shall be freed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As beauteous flowers for him who gave.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_047" id="page_047"></a>{47}</span></p> - -<h4>VIII.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O gay, Spring Earth of God’s and ours,—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Nay, rather, thou and we are His,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And sun and stars and all that is,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We bid thee hail with birds and flowers!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_048" id="page_048"></a>{48}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="IN_MEMORIAM1" id="IN_MEMORIAM1"></a>IN MEMORIAM.</h3> - -<h4>I.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Our days of happiness Time hurries by,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As though in haste his envy found relief;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But in our nights of anguish his cold eye<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Lingers upon us, gloating o’er our grief,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet in the past we fain would live again,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Forgetting, for the gladness, all the pain.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>II.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">So pass our years. It seems a little while<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Since, with wild throbbings in my boyish heart,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I westward gazed from my own western isle,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And saw the white-winged messengers depart.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ah! little thought I then that o’er the sea<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lived any one that should be dear to me.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_049" id="page_049"></a>{49}</span></p> - -<h4>III.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Years fled—and other eyes were westward turned,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And I was on the bosom of the deep,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While strange emotions in my bosom burned—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A sorrow that I thought would never sleep:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For all that I had loved on earth was gone,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Perhaps forever—and—I was alone;<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>IV.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Save that I heard the dear familiar noise<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of the old ocean, and can well recall<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The bliss, the awe, the love without a voice<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With which I felt that great heart rise and fall,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like some untamed and tameless “thing of life”<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That frets for something worthy of its strife.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>V.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And then I was alone amid the din<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of ceaseless strugglers after wealth and power,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Content to hide the better soul within,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And pass in men’s applause a gaudy hour,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To act out well a something they are not,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To be admired and praised—despised, forgot.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_050" id="page_050"></a>{50}</span></p> - -<h4>VI.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I was alone, but in my fancy grew<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A fair ideal, fashioned from the best<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And purest feelings that my spirit knew;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And this ideal was the goddess-guest<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In my heart’s temple; but I sought not then<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To find my goddess in the haunts of men.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>VII.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And yet I found her—all-personified<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The goddess of my lonely-loving heart,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And—as an artist, when he stands beside<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Some genius-fathered, beauteous child of art,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Worships it mutely, with enraptured gaze—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My love was far too deep for words of praise.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>VIII.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But, ah! earth’s brightest joys are bought with pain:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Meeting with parting,—smiles with bitter tears,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hope ends in sorrow,—loss succeeds to gain,—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And youth’s gay spring-time leads to wintry years;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nought lives that dies not in the world’s wide range,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And nothing is unchangeable but change.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_051" id="page_051"></a>{51}</span></p> - -<h4>IX.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">My bliss was o’er. I was again alone<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Amid the scenes that I had learned to love<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For her dear sake; but, ah! the charm was gone<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From river-side and mountain-slope and grove—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All, save the memory of happy hours<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That lingered like the sweetness of dead flowers.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>X.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And as the ground on which a temple stood<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Is holy, though the temple stand no more,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So river, mountain, waterfall and wood<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Wore something of the sacredness they wore<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When her loved presence blessed them, and her face<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Made all around her smile with her sweet grace.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>XI.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And I am still alone, and years have fled,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And other scenes are ’round me, as I call<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The past by Memory’s magic from the dead,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As Endor’s Sibyl brought the Seer to Saul.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">(May <i>he</i> not then have thought of that good time<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When David’s music lulled his soul from crime?)<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_052" id="page_052"></a>{52}</span></p> - -<h4>XII.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And I, with more of bitterness than bliss,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The summoned years of my past life review,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till Hope’s red lips with love pale Sorrow’s kiss,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And all things good and beautiful and true,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Start rainbow-like from Sorrow’s falling tears,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Spanning with hues of Heaven all my years.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>XIII.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And as I ope the temple of my heart<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And seek its inmost and its holiest shrine,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Still there, my love, my darling one, thou art,—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">There still I worship thee and call thee mine;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And this sweet anthem all that temple fills—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“Love cannot lose, ’tis loss of love that kills.”<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>[<span class="smcap">Postscript.</span>]</h4> - -<h4>XIV.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">What cry was that which woke me from my dream?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I stand upon my native, island shore,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And hear the startled curlews round me scream<br /></span> -<span class="i2">O’er the mute cliffs that make the fierce waves roar;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I watch the “stately ships” go sailing by,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And wonder how my heart has learned to sigh.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_053" id="page_053"></a>{53}</span></p> - -<h4>XV.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ah! <i>that</i> was but a dream. A summer’s eve<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Breathes all its balmy blessings on my brow;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I feel as though the earth had got reprieve<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From its death-sentence. See, the sun sets now—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The blue of heaven grows gently dark above,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Below, blue eyes are growing dark with love.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>XVI.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>That</i>, too, was but a dream. What startled me?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The winds are making havoc ’mong the leaves<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of summer-time, and each once happy tree<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For its lost darlings rocks itself and grieves.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The night is dark, the sky is thick with clouds—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Kind frost-nymphs make the little leaves their shrouds!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_054" id="page_054"></a>{54}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="WINTER" id="WINTER"></a>WINTER.</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Now lies Adonis in Prosérpine’s breast,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Who o’er him spreads a mantle lily white,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And every dryad, with disordered vest,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Teareth her hair for sorrow at the sight.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And ere he waketh, many an eye, now bright,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Shall deaden; many a rosy cheek shall pale;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O’er many a fair, young head shall rise the wail<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of those whom Death hath spoiled of their delight.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, when, at touch of Spring, the winding sheet<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That wraps thee now, Adonis, melts to flowers,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To deck thee for thy Queen; and sunny Hours,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Dancing around thee on their soft swift feet,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sing “Wake, Adonis;” many a one shall weep<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For those that in the Earth’s dark bosom sleep.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_055" id="page_055"></a>{55}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="PER_NOCTEM_PLURIMA_VOLVENS" id="PER_NOCTEM_PLURIMA_VOLVENS"></a>PER NOCTEM PLURIMA VOLVENS.</h3> - -<h4>I.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When the weary sun has ended his journey and descended,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By his own bright, golden pathway, to his mansion in the west,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the sentry stars have taken the sky he has forsaken,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To watch till he awaken, bright and smiling, from his rest;<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>II.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And the Moon is rising slowly with a light serene and holy,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The Queen of all the watchers, the sister of the Sun,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And hushed are all the noises from Earth’s unnumbered voices,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the heart of sleep rejoices in the conquest he has won;<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_056" id="page_056"></a>{56}</span></p> - -<h4>III.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">In the still, unbroken quiet, free from day’s unceasing riot,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I love to call around me the friends of long before,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And to fill my vacant places with the well-remembered graces<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of dear, old familiar faces that may smile for me no more.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>IV.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Some that shared my boyish pastime, as they seemed to me the last time<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That I saw them, full of life and joy and hope that knew no bound,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But who now are sad and grieving, and have lost the gay believing<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In the deeds of hope’s achieving, or—are laid beneath the ground;—<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>V.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Some, not merely friends for pleasure, but who cherished friendship’s treasure<br /></span> -<span class="i0">More than gold or worldly honour or gay fashion’s fickle smile,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_057" id="page_057"></a>{57}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who would neither scorn nor flatter, who spoke honestly, no matter<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How the world might grin and chatter, loving truth and hating guile;—<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>VI.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Some whose silvery hair seemed saintly, and whose eyes though shining faintly,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shed a tender lustre o’er me that will light me till the grave<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That with all men I inherit takes my body, and my spirit,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Trusting in my Savour’s merit, has returned to God who gave;—<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>VII.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">One, whom I have lost forever, but whom I will still endeavour<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To deserve, though undeserving to have passed before her eyes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For I know that while I love her, what is best and purest of her<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Near me, through my life shall hover, like an angel from the skies;—<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_058" id="page_058"></a>{58}</span></p> - -<h4>VIII.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">These, by Fancy, great enchanter, called, into my presence enter,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When the Sun and Earth are sleeping and the Moon and Stars are bright,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And whatever past seemed pleasant I live over in the present,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the cares of day are lessened by the magic of the night.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_059" id="page_059"></a>{59}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="BALAAM" id="BALAAM"></a>BALAAM.</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">While sleep had set its seal on many eyes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Balaam, the Seer, was forth beneath the stars,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whose beauty glimmered in Euphrates’ stream,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Gemming the mournful willows’ floating hair.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Behind him were the mountains of the east,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The dark-browed nurses of the blue-eyed founts,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whose lone hearts were the life of Pethor-land.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Westward, beyond the river, was the waste,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O’er which, this second time, with priceless gifts,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Had come from Balak noble messengers;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And westward were the eyes of Balaam turned,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As one who waits for one who does not come,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While wild things came and passed unheeded by,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the night wind, as with an angel’s harp,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Played lullaby to all the dreaming flowers.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, gazing on the western sky, he saw<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A picture, all whose forms were quick with life,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where all was discord, hurrying to and fro,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_060" id="page_060"></a>{60}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">As when two armies strive to gain the field;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For, from the outer realms of space, there came<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Gigantic spearsmen, over whom there waved<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Gay, many-coloured banners, and these flew,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hither and thither, o’er the starry plain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pursuing and retreating; others came,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And others, till it seemed all Sabaoth<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Had joined in conflict with the wicked one.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And then there was a change; banners and spears<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Faded away, as fades away the reek<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Above a hamlet on a frosty morn;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And none can tell when he sees last of it.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, in a little while, there grew an arch,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whose keystone was the zenith of the sky,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like to a rainbow, joining east and west,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beautiful, quivering, fearful, ominous,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Drawing the heart of Balaam after it.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And this, too, vanished, vapor-like, away;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And Balaam, though he waited its return,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Waited in vain; for warriors, and spears,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And banners, and the fiery flash of hosts<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Embattled, and the mystic arch, were gone,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And came no more.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_061" id="page_061"></a>{61}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And Balaam stood amazed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Long time, while thoughts, conflicting, tore his breast,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And barred all passage for his voice.<br /></span> -<span class="i10">At length,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“Hath not the Highest, by this sign, declared<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His purpose? <span class="smcap">I must go!</span>” he said, and then<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dark-boding terrors shook him and the strain<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That held his face rapt westward, all relaxed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By speech, he felt as one, who, in a dream,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Stands on a steep cliff, by the greedy sea,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While ruthless foes pursue him.<br /></span> -<span class="i12">“<span class="smcap">I must go!</span>”<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He said, and from ten thousand horrid throats<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There seemed to come a mocking answer, “Go!”<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And o’er him came a shiver, as a lake<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shivers beneath the burden of a breeze.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And then there came a whisper to his ear,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“Balaam, God’s prophet! go not with these men!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Puttest thou Balak’s honour above His<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who chose thee to declare His will to men?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Go, and thou art undone! God doth not lie!”<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then Balaam, as in answer to a friend:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“There came across the desert lordly men<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_062" id="page_062"></a>{62}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">From Moab and from Midian, who besought,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With many prayers and noble gifts, that I,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Balaam, the Seer, would go with them and curse<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A people who were terrible in war—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To whom the strength of Moab was as grass<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Before the oxen, feeding on the plains—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If, haply, I might crush them with a curse!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">These prayed I to abide with me all night,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till I should learn the purpose of the Lord—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, in a dream, God warned me not to go;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And so they went away ungratified.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then came these princes with more precious gifts,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And still more precious promises, who said,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘Balak, our lord, hath sent us unto thee,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And prayeth thee to come. He will promote<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thee and thy house to honour; and all boons,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whate’er thou askest, he will freely give.’<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And I replied, ‘If Balak’s house were full<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of gold and silver, and he made it mine,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or more or less than God commandeth me,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I could not do. But tarry here to-night,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And I will hear the answer of the Lord.’<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And then God sent a sign, the like of which<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_063" id="page_063"></a>{63}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">I, who know all the faces of the night,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And am familiar with all stars that shine<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Over the hills and plains of Pethor-land,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Have never seen before, a sign which said:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘Balaam, if these men call thee, rise and go.’<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or more or less than God commandeth me<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I cannot do. Am I in this to blame?”<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And then the wind came sweeping down the hills,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And Balaam heard again the mocking cry,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“If these man call thee, Balaam, rise and go.”<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And though he shuddered, all his face grew dark<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And knotted, as he said, “God doth not lie,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But—doth God mock? Hath he not sent a sign<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To me, who have the power of reading signs,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His own high gift? And now—and now, O God!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If thou wouldst send me yet another sign—!”<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And here the whisper of the still, small voice<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Came back, “O, Balaam! wretched is their fate,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who, knowing good from evil, choose not good,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or suffer evil, howsoever fair,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To make the good less lovely in their eyes!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Full well thou knowest that thy heart is set<br /></span> -<span class="i0">More on the gold of Balak than God’s will.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_064" id="page_064"></a>{64}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">God doth not mock. ’Tis thou that mockest Him,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Coming into His presence, full of lust,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And seeking for a sign. If thou wert pure<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No sign were needed. Being as thou art,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wert thou to offer up the land’s whole wealth,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Oxen and rams, and corn, and wine, and oil,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And all the first-born of thy kings, no sign<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Would purge thee of those sordid dreams that drag<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy soul from God to hell!<br /></span> -<span class="i10">It is not yet too late,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Perhaps, and but perhaps!<br /></span> -<span class="i10">O, Balaam, rouse thee!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou art, e’en yet, God’s prophet! He has shewn<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His will to none more clearly than to thee.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What is it He requireth at thy hands?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Be true and honest, pure and merciful,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Having thy heart aflame with faith and love,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Still walking humbly, as though prone to fall—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Guarding thine eyes from covetous wanderings,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Deeming God’s gifts more beautiful than man’s—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And he will keep thee right in all thy ways.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Oh! what is Balak’s honour, Balak’s gold,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To Balaam, if the Highest be his friend,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_065" id="page_065"></a>{65}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who owns the wealth and beauty of the world?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Balaam, if these men call thee, do not go.”<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And Balaam bowed himself unto the ground,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And lay upon his face in misery;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And in his heart an awful battle raged,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where evil fought with good. Longtime he lay,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As one entranced, all motionless, but full,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Through every nerve, of wakeful, painful life.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And then he rose, as from his grave, so pale<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And wild his visage; and he looked again,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Along the waste, towards the western sky,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But saw no sign, save that the stars grew dim,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And some were gone; and, even as he looked,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He seemed to hear from all the waking earth,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Borne through the gloaming on the mountain wind,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The words he loved and longed for and yet loathed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“Balaam, if these men call thee, rise and go.”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And once again a shudder shook his frame;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And once again he bowed him to the earth,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And lay upon his face in misery,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Until, from weariness, he fell asleep.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And as he slept, he dreamed he was a child<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_066" id="page_066"></a>{66}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">And heard sweet music, soft as is the breeze<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That steals through corn-fields on a summer’s day,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And makes the flowers kiss sweetly, and the leaves<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On every tree grow tremulous for joy.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And then there came a noble, swelling strain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like the grand chorus of victorious hosts<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That still march on to victory; and he heard,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And was a man, with men—a king of men,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With crown of inspiration on his brow.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Around him thronged the chiefs of Pethor-land<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And others, from afar, who came to hear<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The wisdom God had given to his lips.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But he was still as humble as the child<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That played of yore amid the flowers, and drew<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From their sweet breath the beauty of the good.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And as he spoke, they listened to his words<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As to an angel’s: for his words were wise,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wiser than all the wisdom of the East.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then came a discord, as a sound of waves<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That dash against tall rocks, while drowning men<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Try vainly to be heard. And Balaam grew<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_067" id="page_067"></a>{67}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Proud with the pride of vain and worldly men,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And thought within his heart how great he was,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Forgetting who had made him wise and great;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And thought of all the homage and the gifts<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yielded to him by princes of all lands,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till his heart turned to evil more than good.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then came a sound of battle and wild cries,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The blare of trumpets, and the clash of swords,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the fierce neigh of war-steeds, and the groans<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of dying men,—and Balaam lay with these,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Far from the hills and streams of Pethor-land.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, as he lay, he heard an awful voice,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">High o’er the din of battle, and the words,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“If these men call thee, Balaam, rise and go.”<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And Balaam woke; and on the Eastern hills<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beheld the ruddy blossom of the day<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bursting from out the sapphire of the sky;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And all the earth looked pure as when it rose,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">At first, in beauty, from the primal sea,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And all the heavenly hosts sang songs of joy.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But still the night lingered in Balaam’s soul,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_068" id="page_068"></a>{68}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">And all the pleasant voices of the morn,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With which, erstwhile, he joined in hymns of praise,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Were buried, as all hues are lost in black,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In the dark horrors of one fatal cry,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“If these men call thee, Balaam, rise and go.”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And fainter was the whisper than before,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And Balaam heard it not, or heeded not,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As with slow steps—as one who walks in chains—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And head bowed low upon his breast, he moved<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Homeward to where the princes waited him.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And Balaam told them not of sign or dream,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But only made him ready for the road.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And ere the sun was half-way up the sky,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Both he and they were far upon the waste<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That stretched towards Moab,—and he nevermore<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beheld the hills and streams of Pethor-land.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_069" id="page_069"></a>{69}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="GOOD_NIGHT" id="GOOD_NIGHT"></a>GOOD NIGHT.</h3> - -<h4>I.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Good night! God bless thee, love, wherever thou art,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And keep thee, like an infant, in His arms!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And all good messengers that move unseen<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By eye sin-darkened, and on noiseless wings<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Carry glad tidings to the doors of sleep,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Touch all thy tears to pearls of heavenly joy.<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Oh! I am very lonely, missing thee;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet, morning, noon, and night, sweet memories<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Are nestling round thy name within my heart,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like summer birds in frozen winter woods.<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Good night! <i>Good night!</i> oh, for the mutual word!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Oh, for the loving pressure of thy hand!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Oh, for the tender parting of thine eyes!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">God bless thee, love, wherever thou art! Good night.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_070" id="page_070"></a>{70}</span></p> - -<h4>II.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Good night, my love! Another day has brought<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Its load of grief and stowed it in my heart,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So full already, Joy is crushed to death,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And Hope stands mute and shivering at the door.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Still Memory, kind angel, stays within,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And will not leave me with my grief alone,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But whispers of the happy days that were<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Made glorious by the light of thy pure eyes.<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Oh! shall I ever see thee, love, again,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My own, my darling, my soul’s best beloved,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Far more than I had ever hoped to find<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of true and good and beautiful on earth?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Oh! shall I <i>never</i> see thee, love, again?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My treasure found and loved and lost, good night.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>III.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Good night, my love! Without, the wintry winds<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Make the night sadly vocal; and within,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The hours that danced along so full of joy,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like skeletons have come from out their graves,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And sit beside me at my lonely fire,—<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_071" id="page_071"></a>{71}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Guests grim but welcome, which my fancy decks,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In all the beauty that was theirs when thou<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Didst look and breathe and whisper softly on them.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So do they come and sit, night after night,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Talking to me of thee till I forget<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That they are mere illusions and the past<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is gone forever. They have vanished now,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And I am all alone, and thou art—where?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My love, good angels bear thee my good night!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_072" id="page_072"></a>{72}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="WINTER_SUNSHINE" id="WINTER_SUNSHINE"></a>WINTER SUNSHINE.</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The “Miserere” of the wintry earth<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Went up to Heaven on the wings of air—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I heard it, sitting by my lonely hearth—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">An awful music; sighs and moans of prayer,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The anguish human words could never bear<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Into God’s ear, the agony whose birth<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The soul hides from itself were mingled there<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With the fierce undertones of frantic mirth.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then came a hush, and suddenly the floor<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Was carpeted with sunshine, living gold,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That filled the heart with summer; Heaven’s door<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Was touched and opened, and at once there rolled,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In strains of sweetest music from above,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Back to the earth an answer, “God is Love!”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_073" id="page_073"></a>{73}</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3><a name="CHRISTUS_SALVATOR" id="CHRISTUS_SALVATOR"></a>CHRISTUS SALVATOR.</h3> - -<h4>I.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">C horo sancto nunciatus,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">H omo, Deus Increatus,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">R egum, Rex, Puellâ natus,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I n ignaris habitat;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">S umit vilem carnis vestem,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">T radens Gloriam Cœlestem<br /></span> -<span class="i0">U t dispellat culpæ pestem,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">S atanamque subigat.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>II.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">S urgit Stella prophetarum,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A dest Victor tenebrarum,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">L umen omnium terrarum,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">V ia, Vita, Veritas.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A nimas illuminavit,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">T enebrarum vim fugavit,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O ras Cœlicas monstravit<br /></span> -<span class="i0">R edemptoris Claritas.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="indd"><span class="smcap">Christmas, 1864.</span></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_074" id="page_074"></a>{74}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="DEW" id="DEW"></a>DEW.<br /><br /> -<small>“Who hath begotten the drops of dew?”—<span class="smcap">Job</span> xxxviii, 28.</small></h3> - -<h4>I.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Who hath begotten the drops of dew?<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Tell, if you can, the tale of their birth;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Have the stars from Heaven come down to woo<br /></span> -<span class="i3">The flowers, the beautiful daughters of earth?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>II.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Who hath begotten the drops of dew?<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Have angels open’d the pearly doors,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, leaving their streets of golden hue,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Blest with their footsteps our grassy floors?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>III.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Who hath begotten the drops of dew?<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Doth not each orb in its bosom bear<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ruby and topaz and sapphire blue,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">And all the colours that angels wear?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_075" id="page_075"></a>{75}</span></p> - -<h4>IV.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Who hath begotten the drops of dew?<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Are they the tears of the saints above,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Returned to visit the scenes they knew,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">And to weep and pray for some earthly love?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>V.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Who hath begotten the drops of dew?<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Who, the good that in all things lies?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who, the primal beauty that grew<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Into myriad forms in Paradise?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>VI.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Who hath begotten the drops of dew?<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Tell, if you can, the tale of their birth;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Are they not, children of men, with you,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Sons of the Lord of <i>Heaven</i> and <i>Earth</i>?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_076" id="page_076"></a>{76}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="THALATTA_THALATTA" id="THALATTA_THALATTA"></a>THALATTA! THALATTA!</h3> - -<h4>I.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">In my ear is the moan of the pines—in my heart is the song of the sea,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And I feel his salt breath on my face as he showers his kisses on me,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And I hear the wild scream of the gulls, as they answer the call of the tide,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And I watch the fair sails as they glisten like gems on the breast of a bride.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>II.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">From the rock where I stand to the sun is a pathway of sapphire and gold,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like a waif of those Patmian visions that wrapt the lone seer of old,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And it seems to my soul like an omen that calls me far over the sea—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But I think of a little white cottage and one that is dearest to me.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_077" id="page_077"></a>{77}</span></p> - -<h4>III.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Westward ho! Far away to the East is a cottage that looks to the shore—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Though each drop in the sea were a tear, as it was, I can see it no more;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For the heart of its pride with the flowers of the “Vale of the Shadow” reclines,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And—hushed is the song of the sea and hoarse is the moan of the pines.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_078" id="page_078"></a>{78}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="RIZPAH" id="RIZPAH"></a>RIZPAH.<br /><br /> -<small>(<span class="smcap">2 Samuel</span> xxi. 10.)</small></h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i10">It is growing dark.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">At such a sunset I have been with Saul—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But saw it not. I only saw his eyes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the wild beauty of his roaming locks,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And—Oh! there never was a man like Saul!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Strong arm, and gentle heart and tender ways<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To win a woman’s very soul, were his.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When he would take my hand and look on me,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And whisper “Rizpah”—Ah! those days are gone!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Why should I weep? was I not loved by Saul?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And Saul was king of all the Land of God.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“God save the king!” But, hush! what noise was that?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Oh heaven! to think a mother’s eyes should look<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On such a sight! Away! vile carrion-beast!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Those are the sons of Saul,—poor Rizpah’s sons.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_079" id="page_079"></a>{79}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">O my dead darlings! O my only joy!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O sweet twin treasure of my lonely life,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Since that most mournful day upon Gilboa,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Torn from me thus!<br /></span> -<span class="i6">I have no tears to shed.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O God! my heart is broken! Let me die!<br /></span> - -<span class="ih">*****<br /></span> - -<span class="i0">Gilboa! David wrote a song on it,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And had it put in <i>Jasher</i>—“Weep for Saul.”<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Armoni used to sing it to his harp.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Poor blackened lips!······<br /></span> -<span class="i0">······I wonder if they dream,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My pretty children······<br /></span> -<span class="i0">······Come, Mephibosheth,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Here is your father; say “God save the king!”<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The Gibeonites! Ah! that was long ago.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Why should they die for what they never did?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No; David never would consent to that!<br /></span> -<span class="ih">*****<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whose son is he, this youth? Dost know him, Abner?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ha, ha! they shout again “God save the king.”<br /></span> - -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_080" id="page_080"></a>{80}</span> - -<span class="ih">*****<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Was I asleep? I came not here to sleep.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O poor old eyes, sorrow has made you weak.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My sons! No, nought has touched them. O, how cold!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Cold, cold! O stars of God, have pity on me,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Poor lonely woman! O my sons, Saul’s sons!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Kind stars, watch with me; let no evil beast<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Rend that dear flesh. O God of Israel,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pardon my sins! My heart is broken!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_081" id="page_081"></a>{81}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="NATALIE" id="NATALIE"></a>NATALIE.</h3> - -<h4>I.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Such a pretty, siren face<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Thine was, Natalie!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Such a merry, winning grace<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Drew my heart to thee,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In those distant, happy days<br /></span> -<span class="i3">When thy heart was free.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>II.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Fearless then we gathered joy,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Not a care had we,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Happier girl and happier boy<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Well there could not be;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In our bliss was no alloy,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Playmate, Natalie.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_082" id="page_082"></a>{82}</span></p> - -<h4>III.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Time is cruel. Thou and I<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Parted, Natalie!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And thy kissed lips said “Good bye!<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Surely write to me.”<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou wast then too young to sigh,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Little Natalie!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>IV.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">One day, after years had flown,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Something came to me,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Twas a portrait of my own<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Playmate, Natalie,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Natalie,—but not my own,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Never mine to be!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>V.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">There she sat, so lovely grown,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Like a queen to see,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There she sat—but not alone,—<br /></span> -<span class="i3">With her—who is he?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So my boyish dream has flown,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Faithless Natalie!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_083" id="page_083"></a>{83}</span></p> - -<h4>VI.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">In my heart there is a place<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Still for Natalie!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For the pretty, siren face,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">For the sweetly, winning ways,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That were dear to me,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">In those happy far-off days,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When her heart was free.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_084" id="page_084"></a>{84}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="THE_FENIAN_RAID" id="THE_FENIAN_RAID"></a>THE FENIAN RAID.<br /><br /> -<small><i>June, 1866.</i></small></h3> - -<h4>I.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The breath of the south wind was laden with woe<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As it moaned to the Northland “Prepare for the foe!”<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the Northland was silent a moment, and then<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There was hieing and arming and marching of men.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>II.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">To the front! There’s a struggle—the crisis is past!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The foemen are flying! woe, woe to the last!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There’s a hush, only stirred by the zephyr of peace,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wafting thanks to the God who makes fighting to cease.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_085" id="page_085"></a>{85}</span></p> - -<h4>III.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But, oh! with the voice of that zephyr a cry<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Strives up after justice that seemeth to fly<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From the nations of earth.—O our God have regard<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To that cry; let the cause of the injured be heard!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>IV.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">From the blood of the true, the unselfish, the brave,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From the women and children they perished to save,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Goes a cry that no sound of rejoicing can still:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“Judge between us and those who have sanctioned this ill.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_086" id="page_086"></a>{86}</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3><a name="Humanum_est_errare_Divinum_condonare" id="Humanum_est_errare_Divinum_condonare"></a><i>Humanum est errare, Divinum condonare.</i></h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">’Tis easy to cry “Raca”<a name="FNanchor_B_2" id="FNanchor_B_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_B_2" class="fnanchor">[B]</a> from within<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Cold, passionless morality’s strong tower,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">To those who struggle fiercely, hour by hour,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Gainst grim Goliaths of unconquered sin.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">’Tis easy, safely far from battle’s din,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">To wave a sword or raise a banner high<br /></span> -<span class="i3">To those who have to fight each inch, or—die;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who must be wounded, even if they win.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">’Tis easy to point clean, weak hands of scorn<br /></span> -<span class="i3">When some much-tempted brother falls or flies;<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Or some sweet Eve has strayed from Paradise<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Into the outer world of briar and thorn.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But in the great, high council of the skies<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There’s One who reads men’s hearts with milder eyes.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_B_2" id="Footnote_B_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_B_2"><span class="label">[B]</span></a> St. Matthew’s Gospel v. 22.</p></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_087" id="page_087"></a>{87}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="SING_ME_THE_SONGS_I_LOVE" id="SING_ME_THE_SONGS_I_LOVE"></a>SING ME THE SONGS I LOVE.</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Sing me the songs I love once more,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">The songs your lips have made so dear,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For many a day must pass before<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Again your music fills my ear.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And when you are no longer near,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">I’ll in my loneliness rejoice,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Deep in my inmost heart, to hear<br /></span> -<span class="i3">The gentle music of your voice.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">’Tis not in words that friendship lies,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">E’en when those words in music move,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But words have power that never dies,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">When said or sung by those we love.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So when in weariness I rove<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Through the world’s desert, seeking rest,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The memory of your songs shall prove<br /></span> -<span class="i3">A solace to my lonely breast.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_088" id="page_088"></a>{88}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And when you sing those songs again,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">For gayer hearts and brighter eyes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And thinking upon “now” as “<i>then</i>,”<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Memories of other days arise,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Believe that none more dearly prize<br /></span> -<span class="i3">The strains your lips so sweetly pour,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Than he who asked ’neath other skies,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">“Sing me the songs I love once more.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_089" id="page_089"></a>{89}</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3><a name="IN_MEMORIAM2" id="IN_MEMORIAM2"></a>IN MEMORIAM.</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He is dead! and what words can we say that will tell half the sorrow we know;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He is murdered! and mutters for vengeance are mingled with wailings of woe;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He is gone! and the voice that thrilled thousands, like music, forever is hushed;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He lies bleeding! and with him the heart of the nation lies bleeding and crushed!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ah! yes, he is gone! The pure stars that lighted him home to his rest,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Saw his blood as he lay there, a martyr, his hand to a motionless breast;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the wings of the angels that quivered a moment before with his words,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Flashed again—“He is dead,” and the souls of the waking were pierced as with swords.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_090" id="page_090"></a>{90}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Hardly strange doth it seem that the Springtime refuseth this morn to be gay,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And covers her eyes with a veil, and putteth her garlands away,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For she feels that the heart of a prophet of man and of nature is still,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And she hideth her flowers in her bosom and cannot be gay, if she will!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O Canada, weep, ’twas for thee that he spoke the last words of his life!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Weep, Erin, his blood has been shed in the healing of wounds of thy strife!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Weep, Scotia, no son of thy soil held thy mountains and valleys more dear!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Weep, England, thy brave, honest eyes never glistened with worthier tear!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He was true to himself, to his faith, to the lands of his birth and his choice;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He was true, when, a boy, he obeyed, as he deemed it, a patriot voice;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_091" id="page_091"></a>{91}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">He was true, as a man, to the light gained by years, spite of slanderous breath;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He was true, as the champion of peace, amid foes, under ban, <i>unto death</i>!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Had he faults?” men will ask. Who is faultless? How many there are who redeem<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Not the faults that they have by one virtue to make them a shield of esteem,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But lie evermore all content in their grave of misdoing; but he<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sent a light through his life that makes glorious for ever the name of <span class="smcap">McGee</span>.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="indd"><span class="smcap">April</span> 7th, 1868.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_092" id="page_092"></a>{92}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="KILLYNOOGAN" id="KILLYNOOGAN"></a>KILLYNOOGAN.</h3> - -<h4>I.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Killynoogan,—hallowed name,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Though thou’rt little known to fame,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My heart’s homage thou dost claim.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>II.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Though to stranger ears thou be<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But a word of mystery,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Meaning deep thou hast for me.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>III.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">All thy quaint old masonry<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now before my eyes I see,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As, of old, it used to be.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>IV.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ah! too well I can recall<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Every stone in every wall,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In my heart I count them all.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_093" id="page_093"></a>{93}</span></p> - -<h4>V.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And the lawn before the door,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I can see it as of yore,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bright with daisies spangled o’er.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>VI.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And the hedge, along whose side,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Oft, in childhood, I have tried<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To escape, when playing “Hide.”<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>VII.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And the miniature wood,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where in boyhood I have sued<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Coyish maiden, Solitude.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>VIII.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And the garden full of flowers,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where I’ve past romantic hours,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dreaming of fair ladies’ bowers.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>IX.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">In the orchard, stretched at ease,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On the grass, I hear the breeze<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Piping ’mong the apple trees.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_094" id="page_094"></a>{94}</span></p> - -<h4>X.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">While from many a leafy nook,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Grave as parson at his book,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Rook replieth unto rook.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>XI.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I can hear the river’s flow<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As it murmurs, soft and low,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bringing news from Pettigo.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>XII.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I can watch it to the mill,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where the never-tiring wheel<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dances round and drinks its fill.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>XIII.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Past the ever-bubbling “spa,”<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Past the castle of Magra,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Razed by Cromwell’s cruel law,<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_095" id="page_095"></a>{95}</span></p> - -<h4>XIV.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">On it goes with many a turn,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Playing with its fringe of fern,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till it touches broad Lough Erne.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>XV.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Here I leave thee, little stream,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lost, like much I dearest deem,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In my life’s oft-shifting dream.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>XVI.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Lost! but let me backward haste,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I have little time to waste<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In my ramble through the past.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>XVII.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Words are cumbersome, at times,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thought could visit fifty climes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While I’m seeking useless rhymes.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_096" id="page_096"></a>{96}</span></p> - -<h4>XVIII.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I am back upon the lawn,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That I’ve often stood upon,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But—is every body gone?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>XIX.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Knock,—is any one within?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Not a sound, except the din<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of the mice,—they must be thin.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>XX.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Look along the avenue,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is there any one in view?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Surely, this cannòt be true?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>XXI.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Put your ear upon the ground!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Listen! Is there any sound?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Every thing is hushed around.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_097" id="page_097"></a>{97}</span></p> - -<h4>XXII.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Oh! I dream! I might have known;<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>I</i> have wandered,—<i>they</i> are gone,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And of <i>four</i> remains but <i>one</i>.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>XXIII.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Two were young and two were old;<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Three</i> are lying stark and cold<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In death’s rigid, icy fold.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>XXIV.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Dear old Killynoogan, thee,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Once so full of life and glee,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lifeless, desolate, I see!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>XXV.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But, beloved and sacred spot,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nought of thee shall be forgot,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till what I am now—is not.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_098" id="page_098"></a>{98}</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3><a name="What_can_I_do" id="What_can_I_do"></a></h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“What can I do that others have not done?<br /></span> -<span class="i1">What can I think that others have not thought?<br /></span> -<span class="i1">What can I teach that others have not taught?<br /></span> -<span class="i1">What can I win that others have not won?<br /></span> -<span class="i1">What is there left for me beneath the sun?<br /></span> -<span class="i1">My labour seems so useless, all I try<br /></span> -<span class="i1">I weary of, before ’tis well begun;<br /></span> -<span class="i1">I scorn to grovel and I cannot fly.”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Hush! hush! repining heart! there’s One whose eye<br /></span> -<span class="i1">Esteems each honest thought and act and word<br /></span> -<span class="i1">Noble as poet’s songs or patriot’s sword.<br /></span> -<span class="i1">Be true to Him: He will not pass thee by.<br /></span> -<span class="i1">He may not ask thee ’mid His stars to shine,<br /></span> -<span class="i1">And yet He needeth thee; His work is thine.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_099" id="page_099"></a>{99}</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3><a name="HASTINGS" id="HASTINGS"></a>HASTINGS.<br /><br /> -<small><i>October 14th, 1066.</i></small></h3> - -<h4>I.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">October’s woods are bright and gay, a thousand colours vie<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To win the golden smiles the Sun sends gleaming thro’ the sky;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And tho’ the flowers are dead and gone, one garden seems the earth,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For, in God’s world, as one charm dies, another starts to birth.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>II.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">To every season is its own peculiar beauty given,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In every age of mortal men we see the Hand of Heaven;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And century to century utters a glorious speech,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And peace to war, and war to peace, eternal lessons teach.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_100" id="page_100"></a>{100}</span></p> - -<h4>III.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O grand, old woods, your forest-sires were thus as bright and gay,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Before the axe’s murderous voice had spoiled their sylvan play;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When other axes smote our sires and laid them stiff and low,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On Hastings’ unforgotten field, <i>eight hundred years ago</i>.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>IV.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Eight hundred years ago, long years, before Jacques Cartier clomb<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The Royal Height, where now no more the red men fearless roam!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Eight hundred years ago, long years before Columbus came<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From stately Spain to find the world that ought to bear his name!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>V.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The Sussex woods were bright and red on that October morn;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And Sussex soil was red with blood before the next was born;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_101" id="page_101"></a>{101}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">But from that red united clay another race did start<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On the great stage of destiny to act a noble part.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>VI.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">So God doth mould, as pleaseth Him, the nations of His choice;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now, in the battle-cry is heard His purifying voice;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And now with Orphic strains of peace He draws to nationhood<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The scattered tribes that dwell apart by mountain, sea and wood.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>VII.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He took the lonely, poet Celt and taught him Roman lore,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then from the wealds of Saxony He brought the sons of Thor;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Next from his craggy home the Dane came riding o’er the sea,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And last, came William with his bands of Norman chivalry.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_102" id="page_102"></a>{102}</span></p> - -<h4>VIII.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And now as our young nationhood is struggling into birth,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">God grant its infant pulse may beat with our fore-fathers’ worth!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And as we gather into <i>one</i>, let us recall with pride<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That we are of the blood of those who fought where Harold died.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="indd"><span class="smcap">October, 1866.</span></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_103" id="page_103"></a>{103}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="THE_NAUGHTY_BOY" id="THE_NAUGHTY_BOY"></a>THE NAUGHTY BOY.<br /><br /> -<small>(<i>From H. C. Andersen’s Tales.</i>)</small></h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A good old poet sat by his hearth,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">While the wind and rain were raging abroad;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And he thought of the poor who roamed thro’ the earth<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Without a home or friend but God,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While he was as snug as he could desire,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Roasting his apples before the fire.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And just with the thought came a voice outside:<br /></span> -<span class="i3">“O pray, let me in, I am wet and cold.”<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In a second the door has been opened wide,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">And there standeth a boy with ringlets of gold.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“Come in, my boy, there is warmth for thee here;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Come in and take share of my frugal cheer.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_104" id="page_104"></a>{104}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">So the boy came in, and in spite of the storm<br /></span> -<span class="i3">A cherub he seemed who had come from the skies,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With his curly locks and his graceful form,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">And the sparkling beauty that lit his eyes;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But the bow that he bore was so spoilt with the rain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">One would say he could never have used it again.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then the good old poet nursed the boy,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">And dried him and warmed him and gave him wine,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And his heart grew glad, and the spirit of joy<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Frolicked and danced o’er his face divine;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“Light of heart thou seemest, and light of head,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pray, what is thy name?” the old poet said.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“My name is Love; dost thou know me not?<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Look, yonder my bow and my arrows lie,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And I’d have you beware. I’m a capital shot.”<br /></span> -<span class="i3">“But your bow is spoilt.” “Never mind; I’ll try.”<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And he bent his bow, and he aimed a dart,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the good old poet was shot thro’ the heart.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_105" id="page_105"></a>{105}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And he fell from his chair, and he wept full sore:<br /></span> -<span class="i3">“Is this my reward for my apples and wine?”<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But the Naughty Boy could be seen no more;<br /></span> -<span class="i3">He was forth again, for the night grew fine.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“Bah! I’ll warn all the boys and the girls I know,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If they play with this Love, they’ll have nothing but woe.”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">So the good old poet he did his best<br /></span> -<span class="i3">To make others beware of a fate like his;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And he shewed them the arrow that pierced his breast:<br /></span> -<span class="i3">“Now you see what a terrible boy he is!”<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But an archer, who’s never two moment’s the same,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like Proteus, it’s hard to keep clear of his aim!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_106" id="page_106"></a>{106}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="ROSA" id="ROSA"></a>ROSA.</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thou art gone, sweet love, to take thy rest,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like a weary child on thy mother’s breast;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And thou hearest not, in thy calm deep sleep,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The voices of those that around thee weep.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thou art gone where the weary find a home,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where sickness and sorrow can never come;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A flower too fair for earthly skies,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou art gone to bloom in Paradise.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thou art gone, and I hear not thy gladsome tone,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But my heart is still beating “<i>alone, alone</i>,”—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet often in dreams do I hear a strain<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As of angels bearing thee back again.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thou art gone, and the world may not miss thee long,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For thou didst not care for its idle throng;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But this fond bosom, in silent woe,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall carry thine image wherever I go.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_107" id="page_107"></a>{107}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thou art gone, thou art gone! Shall we meet no more<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By the sandy hill or the winding shore?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or watch as the crested billows rise,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the frightened curlew startling cries?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thou art gone, but oh! in that land of peace<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where sin, and sorrow and anguish cease,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where all is happy and bright and fair,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My own sweet love, may I meet thee there?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="indd"><span class="smcap">March, 1857.</span></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_108" id="page_108"></a>{108}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="JUBAL" id="JUBAL"></a>JUBAL.<br /><br /> -<small>(Book of Genesis iv. 21.)</small></h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The Sun soon kissed to flowers, the blood-stained sod,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From which the voice of Abel cried to God,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And drove his murderer to the land of Nod;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And smiling, kindly watched them day by day,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till they, like Abel, died and passed away,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And other flowers grew bright above their clay.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">While with impartial kindness, year by year,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He kissed from Cain’s curs’d face the awful tear<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That flowed when that dread voice appalled his ear.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Still as at night the silent woods are stirred<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By the lone calling of some mateless bird,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ever that voice in Cain’s sad heart was heard.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But busy hands for good or bad are best<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To still the aching voices of the breast,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And load the body with the soul’s unrest.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_109" id="page_109"></a>{109}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">So, tow’rds the Sun the City Enoch rose,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beneath Cain’s hands, as in the desert grows<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A palm whose shade the tawny outcast knows.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The City Enoch! from the first-born named<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of the first-born of woman, son of blood!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Built long ere Babel’s boastful tower was shamed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Earth’s lonely capital before the flood!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The City Enoch! here were sown and grew<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The seeds of Art when Art and life were long;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Here Lamech turned his misery to song,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hence Jabal journeyed, seeking pastures new!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Here man’s soft hand made brass and iron yield<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To cunning shapes and uses,—wondrous skill!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Tearing earth’s iron heart with iron will,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To see what secrets in it lay concealed!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And here, O music, like a dream of heaven,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy subtle thrills did touch the wearied brain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With raptured, passionate longing to regain<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The bliss of having naught to be forgiven!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_110" id="page_110"></a>{110}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Let me in fancy see thee rise again<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O city of the Wanderer, seldom sought!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">City of that wise Jubal who first taught<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The harp and organ to the sons of men!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">That I may learn the secret of his might,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who, leaving earth unto his brother’s care,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Did gentle battle with the powers of air,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And made them his and ours by victor’s right!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Adah, the first-beloved of Lamech’s wives,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bare him two sons. Jabal, the eldest-born,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Grew up to manhood, strong and bold and free;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And leaving Enoch, sought a boundless home,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Living in tents, a king amid his flocks,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Setting his throne where’er his subjects thrived,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lord, or allowed vicegerent under God,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Unto the “cattle on a thousand hills.”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But Jubal, wise and gentle, ’tis for thee<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That we would raise to life the giant shades<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That lived and loved, and sinned and wept and died<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ere Heaven’s great tears had washed away the crime<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_111" id="page_111"></a>{111}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">That stained the beauty of the early earth;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And Enoch, mistress of primeval Art,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lay, the dead mistress of a drownèd world.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">What was thy year, thy month, thy day of birth,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That we may mark it in our Calendar,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“On this day, in a year before the Flood,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Jubal was born, Inventor of the Harp?”<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where shall we seek this knowledge? Of the stars?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Tis said by some our hearts and brains depend<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Upon the union in their mystic dance<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They happen to be forming at the hour<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When we are born. Then we shall ask the stars.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For they may recollect the year and hour<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They formed that wondrous figure when the power<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of music touched the soul of man<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For the first time, and if they can,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Twas then that Jubal’s life began!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4">Sibyl-stars, that sing the chorus<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Of the life that lies before us<br /></span> -<span class="i4">As we open mortal eyes!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_112" id="page_112"></a>{112}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i4">Strange phrenologists of Heaven,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">That infuse the spirit-leaven<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Into nascent, infant brains,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">That can make them dull or wise,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Forging subtle mental chains<br /></span> -<span class="i4">That must bind us until death,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">As ye calmly glitter o’er us,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">When we draw our primal breath!<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Mixing qualities together,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Just according to the weather,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Just according to the season,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And the point of daily time,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Noon or even, night or morn,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">That we happen to be born,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">For some sage, sidereal reason,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Which some sophomores call “chance,”<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Some the “force of circumstance!”<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Tell, O fatal stars, sublime,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">What the swelling of the chime<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Into which you wove your dance,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">What the day and what the hour,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Was so happy as to dower<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Earth with Music’s heavenly power!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_113" id="page_113"></a>{113}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4">Tell the day of Jubal’s birth,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Day of Jubilee to earth.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4">Was the “music of the spheres”<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Audible to mortal ears?<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Did the winds of Heaven sing<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Till the forests clapped their hands?<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Did the ocean, heralding,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Bear the tidings to all lands,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Whispering, “Rejoice, rejoice,”<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Till the earth, unprisoning<br /></span> -<span class="i4">All her sounds, became a Voice?<br /></span> -<span class="i4">As the soaring of his wing<br /></span> -<span class="i4">When the distant eagle moves,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Wakes to life the silent groves,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">At the coming of their king!<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Sibyl-stars, was this the way<br /></span> -<span class="i4">That Earth greeted Jubal’s day?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">In those far shadowy years before the Flood<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Jubal was born, and this is all we know;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Born in the land where Cain, in solitude<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And occupation sought to hide his woe<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_114" id="page_114"></a>{114}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Born with a gift, well-used, of sin the foe,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A heaven-sent harbinger of promised good.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Oh! was not Adah happy in her boy?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Oh! who could tell the secret of her joy,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When, with a mother’s love, she pierced the veil<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That childhood draws round genius, lest it fail<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In its high aim, by adulation fed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And only feel the poison, when ’tis dead?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And Lamech, first of bards, whose kindred art<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Would welcome her sweet sister, watched his son<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As day by day he saw the promise start<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Towards accomplishment. Yet neither one,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Father nor mother, knew as yet the prize<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For which they waited with such anxious eyes.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">They saw that he was not of common mould:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His quiet thoughtfulness, his pensive ways,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His listening oft as to a story told,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With side-turned head, and distant, earnest gaze,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Told of some god-like purpose in his brain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Though what it was they asked themselves in vain.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_115" id="page_115"></a>{115}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">So Jubal grew in those far, shadowy years<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Before the Flood; and so the music grew<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Within his soul. The common air to him<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Was as a constant feast; its slightest touch<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Was joy to which all other joy was pain.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The first sensations of his infancy<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Were blent with it. His mother’s tender sighs,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Half sighs, half laughter,—as she looked on him,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wondering what sort of man he should become,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Were like the breath of angels to his ear;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And when his father’s mighty voice came forth,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Majestic, through its bearded doors, he hushed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The tremulous beatings of his heart to hear.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And when his brother Jabal went away,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And there were sounds of sorrow in his home,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">(And he wept too, though hardly knowing why)<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He treasured up the sounds as precious things,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Until they seemed a portion of his life.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">So did he gather all the tones of love<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And joy and grief, by strange instinctive power;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And by and by, how anger wounds the air,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And all the passions of the fallen heart<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_116" id="page_116"></a>{116}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">That Satan hissed into the ear of Eve,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He sadly learned; and yet with balanced sense,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His great, high gift, he traced through all the tones<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The woman struggling with her serpent-foe,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And desperate yearnings for lost innocence.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But most he joyed to listen to the words<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of happy children, respited a while,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From fearful looking to the day of death;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And it was Jubal’s chief delight to wed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Their gladsome voices with the Eden notes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To which the first sweet marriage-hymn was set—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The silver-throated wooing of the birds—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The trilling of the zephyr-courted leaves—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The merry-hearted laughter of the brooks—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The multitudinous hum of joyous life—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The weird lullaby that Nature sings<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Unto the darlings fondled in her lap,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Loving but helpless, and their low response;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And all the vocal charms of summer time,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That wrap the soul in dreamy, languid bliss.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">All gentle sounds nestled within his heart,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_117" id="page_117"></a>{117}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">But not alone (though these he loved the most)<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Were gentle sounds the study of the boy.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The mournful requiem of the dying leaves,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The piping gales that make the forest dance,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The tempest’s rage, to which the pine and oak<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Are but as playthings to an angry child:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The rain, the whirlwind and the thundercrash,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The mountain torrent, “the vexed ocean’s roar,”—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The noisy lapping of the tongues of fire,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The howl of hungry, ravenous beasts of prey,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All that is sad or mad in Nature’s voice,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All that reminds us of the awful words<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That pierced the fancied hiding place of sin,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ere yet the curse descended,—these he knew.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For, in those giant days before the Flood,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nature and man were ever face to face,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till Art grew, Nature’s image, in man’s heart.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">So Jubal revelled in all sweet, grand sounds,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A seeming spendthrift, but with miser craft,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Locking his airy jewels in the casket<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of lovingest remembrance,—till the boy<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dreamed himself into manhood.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_118" id="page_118"></a>{118}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i12">Then there weighed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Upon his brain the burden of a thought,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To bring to life the music that his soul<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Had gathered from the music of the world,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To make, by cunning union, every tone<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of its great voice obedient to his will.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And so he planned, awake, and, sleeping, dreamed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of this, his one idea; till at last<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Neath his creative hand the “Harp” was born.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And then he planned again, for life was long<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In those far, shadowy years before the Flood,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Until the “Organ,” in its mighty heart,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Echoed the throbbings of the heart of man.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_119" id="page_119"></a>{119}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="APOLLO_DROPT_A_SEED_OF_SONG" id="APOLLO_DROPT_A_SEED_OF_SONG"></a>APOLLO DROPT A SEED OF SONG.</h3> - -<h4>I.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Apollo dropt a seed of song<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Into my heart one day,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, smiling godlike, passed along<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Upon his heavenly way.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>II.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I saw him make his golden arc,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For many a weary day,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But still the little seedling, dark<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Lay hid beneath the clay.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>III.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But gentle eyes, one joyous hour,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Shone where my seedling lay,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O Love, tend well thy little flower,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And let it not decay.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_120" id="page_120"></a>{120}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="VOX_DEI" id="VOX_DEI"></a>VOX DEI.</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The beauteous pyramid of harmless flame<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Spelled <span class="spc">GOD</span> for Moses; but the thundered law<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Was needed for the wild, unruly crowd.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The awful test of swift-consuming fire<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Alone shewed Baal false to Baal’s friends;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The “still, small voice” touched lone Elijah’s heart.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">So God speaks variously to various men:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To some in nature’s sternest parables;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To others, in the breath that woos the flowers,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Until they blush and pale, and blush again.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">To <i>these</i> the Decalogue were just as true<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If uttered on a summer Sabbath-day<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In village church—to <i>those</i> there is no God,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till fiery rain has scarred the face of earth.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_121" id="page_121"></a>{121}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="THE_OLD_WAR-HORSE" id="THE_OLD_WAR-HORSE"></a>THE OLD WAR-HORSE.</h3> - -<h4>I.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He paweth no more in the field,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where glitter the spear and the shield;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor heareth the thunder of war,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor smelleth the battle afar;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In his eyes is no glory of gleam,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And his strength is the strength of a dream.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>II.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He never turned back from the sword,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When the pride of the land was his lord,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet his neck is bowed meekly—the brave<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Can be meek, aye, as meek as a slave,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And he works near the dark of his day,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Twas <i>his</i> pride (he was taught) to obey.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_122" id="page_122"></a>{122}</span></p> - -<h4>III.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">In the gloaming of life his old eyes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">May see visions of glory arise;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who knows but within his old heart<br /></span> -<span class="i0">May thousands of memories start<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of the march and the drum and the fife,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of the charge and the cry and the strife?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>IV.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Who can tell? But, hark! once again<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He hears, as in whispers the strain<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of that long-ago hid in his blood;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It comes nearer; he paweth the mud<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of the street, and his sinews rejoice,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And he hears not his slave-master’s voice!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>V.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Though his form no gay war-trappings deck,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The thunder returns to his neck;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ha! ha! he is free! for the sound<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of the trumpet his soul has unbound!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He is off! not a pause, till he comes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To the midst of the din of the drums.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_123" id="page_123"></a>{123}</span></p> - -<h4>VI.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He has taken his place, as of yore,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He is marching to battle once more;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They may mock him as haggard and thin,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They may laugh at the marks on his skin,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But naught recks he; the master he bore,<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>His</i> name may well cover them o’er.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>VII.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The music is hushed; the array<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of the soldiers has vanished away;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The old charger, poor fellow, elate<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No longer, returns to his fate;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the light of his eyes has burned low,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And his paces are feeble and slow.<br /></span> - -<span class="ij">*****<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>VIII.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He has heard his last call to parade<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From the trumpet of death and obeyed;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the brave soldier-steed from all harness is freed<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Evermore, and his sleep<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Is so placid and deep,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He needs fear no awakening. Rest to his shade!<br /></span> -<span class="ij">*****<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_124" id="page_124"></a>{124}</span></p> - -<h4>IX.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">There are men, there are women who toil<br /></span> -<span class="i0">At the mill or the mart or the soil,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who wearily drudge day by day<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till the soul of them seems to decay;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Only <i>seems</i>,—for within, after all,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There’s a something that waits for its call.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>X.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And if even the call never come<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In this world of the deaf and the dumb,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When the Great Trumpet music shall fall<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On the ears of the quick and the dead,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">They shall burst from their clay<br /></span> -<span class="i3">And hasten away<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To their place in that host of which God is the Head.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_125" id="page_125"></a>{125}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="ELOISE" id="ELOISE"></a>ELOISE.</h3> - -<h4>I.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I’ll call thee Elöise. Such eyes as thine<br /></span> -<span class="i4">With fatal beauty marred<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The peace of Abelard,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And dimmed with human love the light divine<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That lingers near Religion’s holy shrine!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>II.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O pitiless eyes, you burn unto my soul,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Each one a living coal<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From off Love’s altar! Fall, O silken lashes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And shade me, like a screen, from their control,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ere all my warm delight be turned to ashes!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>III.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Oh, no! I cannot bear the shade. Burn on,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And let me slowly perish with sweet fire,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Myself at once the victim and the pyre,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I die of cold when that dear heat is gone.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_126" id="page_126"></a>{126}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="WHEN_THE_SPRING-TIME_COMES" id="WHEN_THE_SPRING-TIME_COMES"></a>WHEN THE SPRING-TIME COMES.</h3> - -<h4>I.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i6">“When the Spring-time comes”—<br /></span> -<span class="i6"> So we say in wintry hours;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And we look upon the snow,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">While we think upon the flowers.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And we gaze till hope’s bright glory is kindled in our eyes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And earth becomes an Eden full of beauty and delight,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where the air is far too happy to bear any weight of sighs,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And myriad forms of gentle things bring gladness to the sight.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And we wander through and through,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Past the fairest trees and flowers,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Till we find the friends we knew,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">And link their hands in ours,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And then, in ecstacy of bliss, we seek the sweetest bowers.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_127" id="page_127"></a>{127}</span></p> - -<h4>II.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i6">“When the Spring-time comes”—<br /></span> -<span class="i6">But ah! the snow is cold,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And Death is colder still,—<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Whom may he not enfold?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The glory in our eyes that shone is dimmed with bitter tears,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And our Eden-flowers have faded into nothingness again;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And we wander sadly, darkly, through a labyrinth of years,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And we call for vanished faces, and act wildly in our pain.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And then there comes a calm,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">And our sorrow grows less bold,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">As Nature’s mighty psalm,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">O’er God’s own mountain rolled,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Once heralded the still, small voice to that lone seer of old.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>III.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4">“When the Spring-time comes”—<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Think we of griefs we know;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_128" id="page_128"></a>{128}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i4">Had we foreseen them long,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Could we have stood the blow?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then should we not be thankful for the mercy that conceals<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The future, whether dark or bright, from our too curious eyes?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">God knows what’s best for all of us; He covers or reveals,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As it seemeth to him best, the ill that in our pathway lies.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">So let us journey on,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Content in weal or woe<br /></span> -<span class="i4">To feel at least that One<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Smiles on us as we go,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who in sublime humility once suffered here below.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>IV.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4">“When the Spring-time comes”—<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Let us live well the hours,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">God’s spring within the heart<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Will wreathe them all with flowers.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And when the snow has fallen over hand and heart and brain,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_129" id="page_129"></a>{129}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Some few may say above our graves “Let us be like to them,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And though we may not see them when the Spring-time comes again,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We hold their memory more dear than gold or precious gem.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And at the great Spring day,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">When melted are the powers<br /></span> -<span class="i4">That hide our souls in clay,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">As winter hides the flowers,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">May we wreathe amaranths with them in Eden’s choicest bowers.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_130" id="page_130"></a>{130}</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3><a name="HOPE" id="HOPE"></a>HOPE.</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She touched me in my sorrow; I awoke.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her kind hands broke the fetters of my grief;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The light of smiles shone round me, as she spoke:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“I come, my friend, to bring thee sweet relief.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of those that minister, I am the chief,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To man’s sick heart; I made the tears of Eve<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bright with the hues of Heaven, when loth to leave<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The joys her disobedience made so brief.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I sailed with Noah o’er the buried earth,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I sat with Hagar by the new-found well,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I solaced Joseph in his lonely cell,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I filled sad David’s soul with songs of mirth.”<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Much more she whispered, till my heart grew bright<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And sorrow vanished, as at dawn, the night.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_131" id="page_131"></a>{131}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="DOMINION_DAY" id="DOMINION_DAY"></a>DOMINION DAY.<br /><br /> -<small><span class="smcap">July</span>, 1st, 1867.</small></h3> - -<h4>I.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Our land is flushed with love; through the wealth of her gay-hued tresses<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From his bright-red fingers the sun has been dropping his amorous fire,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And her eyes are gladly oppressed with the weight of his lips’ caresses,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the zephyr-throbs of her bosom keep time with the voice of his lyre.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>II.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">’Tis the noon of the sweet, strong summer, the king of the months of the year,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the king of the year is crowning our Land with his glory of love,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the King of all kings, in whose crown each gem is the light of a sphere,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Looks smilingly down on our Land from the height of His heaven above.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_132" id="page_132"></a>{132}</span></p> - -<h4>III.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For to-day she breathes what to her is the first of a nation’s breath,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As she lies ’neath the gaze of the sun, as a bride, or a child new-born,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lies with fair motionless limbs in the beautiful semblance of death,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Yet awake with the joy of a bird that awakes with the whisper of morn.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>IV.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And her soul is drinking the music that flows through the golden lyre,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From the deeps of the woods and waters and wonderful hearts of men,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From the long-hushed songs of the forest, the wild, primeval choir,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Till she feels the breath of the Spirit move over her face again.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h5>1.</h5> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Of the shadowy distant ages,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">(This is the song they sing),<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That scorn historic pages,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">When the Maple alone was king;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_133" id="page_133"></a>{133}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">When the bears were lords of creation,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">The beaver’s the only trade,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the greatest Confederation<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Was that which the wolves had made.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h5>2.</h5> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And then, long ages after,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">How the first of the forest men,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With sounds of war and laughter,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Invaded the wild beast’s den;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They tell of the axe’s ringing,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Of the camp-fire’s savage glee,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of the pipe of peace and the singing<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Under the maple tree.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h5>3.</h5> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And how strange birds of ocean<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Came from the dawn of day,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And woke untold commotion,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Where’er they winged their way;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How pale-faced men and cruel<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Carried the sword and brand,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In search of gold and jewel,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Into the red man’s land.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_134" id="page_134"></a>{134}</span></p> - -<h5>4.</h5> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">How, with the warriors, others<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Of gentle manners came,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who called the red men brothers<br /></span> -<span class="i3">And told them of His Name,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who came from the Great Spirit,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">To bless mankind and save;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And who, for man’s demerit,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Suffered the cross and grave.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h5>5.</h5> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">How still in spite of preaching<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Of brotherhood and peace,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It seemed that war’s stern teaching<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Should never, never cease;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How blood was shed like water,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">How treaties were despised,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How massacre and slaughter<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Were night and day devised.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h5>6.</h5> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">How, in the course of seasons,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Other strange ocean birds<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Brought violence and treasons,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">And smooth, deceitful words;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_135" id="page_135"></a>{135}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">And how the first pale-faces<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Fought with the last who came,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Until a war of races<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Set all the woods aflame.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h5>7.</h5> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">How valiant deeds and noble<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Shone out amid the night,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Illuming scenes of trouble,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">With Heaven’s blessed light;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How oft, in human nature,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Though wofully defaced,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Was seen some god-like feature—<br /></span> -<span class="i3">A flower in a waste;<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h5>8.</h5> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Till now, through God’s good guiding,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Those who as foemen strove,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With heart in heart confiding,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">As brothers join in love;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till, from lake, sea and ocean,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Mountain and woody dell,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is heard, with glad emotion,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Division’s passing-bell.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_136" id="page_136"></a>{136}</span></p> - -<h4>V.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">So she hears, not in words, but in spirit, the changeful tale of the past,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As she leans to the sun with veins that are blue like the blue of the sky,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hears with a smile on her lips that the demon Division is cast<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Into the river of death, as a monster worthy to die.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>VI.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And she hears many tongues of men, that are singing as one in her praise,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Calling her, all, by one name, a name that is noble and old,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Singing a pæan of joy for the light of the gladdest of days,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Making a noise of thanksgiving for union more precious than gold.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>VII.</h4> - -<h5>1.</h5> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Canada, Canada, land of the maple,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Queen of the forest and river and lake,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_137" id="page_137"></a>{137}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Open thy soul to the voice of thy people,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Close not thy heart to the music they make.<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Bells, chime out merrily,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Trumpets, call cheerily,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Silence is vocal, and sleep is awake!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h5>2.</h5> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Canada, Canada, land of the beaver,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Labour and skill have their triumph to-day;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Oh! may the joy of it flow like a river,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Wider and deeper as time flies away.<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Bells, chime out merrily,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Trumpets, call cheerily,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Science and industry laugh and are gay.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h5>3.</h5> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Canada, Canada, land of the snow-bird,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Emblem of constancy change cannot kill,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Faith, that no strange cup has ever unsobered,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Drinketh, to-day, from love’s chalice her fill.<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Bells, chime out merrily,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Trumpets, call cheerily,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Loyalty singeth and treason is still!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_138" id="page_138"></a>{138}</span></p> - -<h5>4.</h5> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Canada, Canada, land of the bravest,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Sons of the war-path, and sons of the sea,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Land of no slave-lash, to-day thou enslavest<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Millions of hearts with affection for thee.<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Bells, chime out merrily,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Trumpets, call cheerily,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Let the sky ring with the shout of the free.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h5>5.</h5> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Canada, Canada, land of the fairest,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Daughters of snow that is kissed by the sun,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Binding the charms of all lands that are rarest,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Like the bright cestus of Venus in one!<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Bells, chime out merrily,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Trumpets, call cheerily,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A new reign of beauty on earth is begun!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>VIII.</h4> - -<h5>1.</h5> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The ocean has kissed her feet<br /></span> -<span class="i3">With cool, soft lips that smile,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And his breath is wondrously sweet<br /></span> -<span class="i3">With the odours of many an isle.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_139" id="page_139"></a>{139}</span></p> - -<h5>2.</h5> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He has many a grand old song<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Of his grand, old fearless kings;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the voice from his breast is strong,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">As he sings and laughs as he sings.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h5>3.</h5> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Though often his heart is sad<br /></span> -<span class="i3">With the weight of the gray-haired days<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That were once as light and as glad<br /></span> -<span class="i3">As the soul of a child that plays.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h5>4.</h5> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But to-day at Canada’s feet,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">He smiles, as when Venus was born,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the breath from his lips is as sweet<br /></span> -<span class="i3">As the breath of wet flowers at morn.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>IX.</h4> - -<h5>1.</h5> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The mountains raise their faces<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Up to the face of God;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They are fresh with balmy graces<br /></span> -<span class="i3">And with flowers their feet are shod.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_140" id="page_140"></a>{140}</span></p> - -<h5>2.</h5> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">In their soul is a noise of gladness,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Their veins swell out with song,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With a feathery touch of sadness,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Like a dream of forgotten wrong.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h5>3.</h5> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">They have set their song to the metre<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Of the bright-eyed summer days,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And our Land, to-day they greet her,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">With lips that are red with praise.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>X.</h4> - -<h5>1.</h5> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Lake is calling to lake<br /></span> -<span class="i3">With a ripply, musical sound,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As though half afraid to awake<br /></span> -<span class="i3">The storm from his sleep profound.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h5>2.</h5> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The hem of their garments is gay<br /></span> -<span class="i3">With gardens that look to the south;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the smile of the dawn of to-day<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Has touched them on bosom and mouth.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_141" id="page_141"></a>{141}</span></p> - -<h4>XI.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The rivers have gladly embraced,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">And carry the joy of the lakes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Past mountain and island and waste,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">To where the sea’s laughter outbreaks.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>XII.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And sea and lake and mountain,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">And man and beast and bird—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Our happy Land’s life fountain—<br /></span> -<span class="i3">By one great voice are stirred.<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Bells chime out merrily,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Trumpets call cheerily,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Cannons boom lustily,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Greet the glad day!<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Rose-wreath and fleur-de-lys,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Shamrock and thistle be<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Joined to the maple tree<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Now and for aye!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>XIII.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Let the shout of our joy to-day be borne through the pulse of the sea,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">To the grand old lands of our fathers,—a token of loyalest love;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_142" id="page_142"></a>{142}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">And may the winds bring back sweet words, O our Land, to thee—<br /></span> -<span class="i3">As, in the far old time, the peace-leaf came with the dove.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>XIV.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And long, long ages hence, when the Land that we love so well<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Has clasped us all (as a mother clasps her babe) to her motherly bosom,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Those who shall walk on the dust of us, with pride in their Land shall tell,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Holding the fruit in their grateful hands, of the birth of to-day, the blossom.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_143" id="page_143"></a>{143}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="IN_MY_HEART" id="IN_MY_HEART"></a>IN MY HEART.</h3> - -<h4>I.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">In my heart are many chambers through which I wander free;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Some are furnished, some are empty, some are sombre, some are light;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Some are open to all comers, and of some I keep the key,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And I enter in the stillness of the night.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>II.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But there’s one I never enter,—it is closed to even me!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Only once its door was opened, and it shut for evermore;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And though sounds of many voices gather round it, like the sea,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It is silent, ever silent, as the shore.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_144" id="page_144"></a>{144}</span></p> - -<h4>III.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">In that chamber, long ago, my love’s casket was concealed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the jewel that it sheltered I knew only one could win;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And my soul foreboded sorrow, should that jewel be revealed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And I almost hoped that none might enter in.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>IV.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yet day and night I lingered by that fatal chamber door,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till—she came at last, my darling one, of all the earth my own;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And she entered—and she vanished with my jewel, which she wore;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the door was closed—and I was left alone.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>V.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She gave me back no jewel, but the spirit of her eyes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shone with tenderness a moment, as she closed that chamber door,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_145" id="page_145"></a>{145}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the memory of that moment is all I have to prize,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But <i>that, at least</i>, is mine for evermore.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>VI.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Was she conscious, when she took it, that the jewel was my love?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Did she think it but a bauble, she might wear or toss aside?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I know not, I accuse not, but I hope that it may prove<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A blessing, though she spurn it in her pride.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_146" id="page_146"></a>{146}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="SISERA" id="SISERA"></a>SISERA.<br /><br /> -<small><span class="smcap">Judges</span> v., 28-30.</small></h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Why comes he not? why comes he not,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">My brave and noble son?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Why comes he not with his warlike men,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">And the trophies his sword has won?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How slowly roll his chariot wheels!<br /></span> -<span class="i3">How weary is the day!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pride of thy mother’s lonely heart,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Why dost thou still delay?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He comes not yet! will he never come<br /></span> -<span class="i3">To gladden these heavy eyes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That have watched and watched from morn till eve,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">And again till the sun did rise?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall I greet no more his look of joy,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Nor hear his manly voice?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Why comes he not with the spoils of war,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">And the damsels of his choice?”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_147" id="page_147"></a>{147}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Years rushed along in their ceaseless course,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">But Sisera came no more,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With his mighty men and his captive maids,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">As he oft had come before.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A woman’s hand had done the deed<br /></span> -<span class="i3">That laid a hero low;—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A woman’s heart had felt the grief<br /></span> -<span class="i3">That childless mothers know.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_148" id="page_148"></a>{148}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="COLUMBA_SIBYLLA" id="COLUMBA_SIBYLLA"></a>COLUMBA SIBYLLA.</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ex mediis viridem surgentem ut lœta columba<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Undis aspexit, post tempora tristia, terram,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Et levibus volitans folia alis carpsit olivæ,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pacifera et rediit, libertatemque futuram<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Navali inclusis in carcere significavit;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sic terram, lœtis, super œquora vasta, Columbus<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Insequitur, ventis astrisque faventibus, alis;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Inventam et terram placidis consevit olivis.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Aevorum super æquora parva columba Columbum<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Inscia persequitur cum vaticinantibus alis!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Omina nomina sunt et Verbo facta reguntur,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Prœteritum nectitque futuro Aeterna Catena.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_149" id="page_149"></a>{149}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="SUMMER_IS_DEAD" id="SUMMER_IS_DEAD"></a>SUMMER IS DEAD.</h3> - -<h4>I.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Summer is dead. Shall we weep or laugh,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As we gaze on the dead queen’s epitaph<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Which Autumn has written in letters of gold:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“She was bright and beautiful, blithe and young,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And through grove and meadow she gaily sung,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As with careless footsteps she danced along<br /></span> -<span class="i3">To the grave, where she now lies cold?”<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>II.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Shall we weep that her beauty from earth has gone?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall we weep for the friends that with her have flown?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall we weep for those that with her have died?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For the man that has perished in manhood’s pride?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For the maiden that never can be a bride?<br /></span> -<span class="i3">For the hearts that are left alone?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_150" id="page_150"></a>{150}</span></p> - -<h4>III.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Shall we laugh as we stand at earth’s palace-door,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With the faded crown that poor Summer wore,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">And placing it on her sister’s brow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Forget the face that once smiled beneath<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That faded crown, and the flowery breath<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That parted those lips now cold in death?<br /></span> -<span class="i3">For Autumn is monarch now.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>IV.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Summer is dead. Shall we laugh or weep?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is she really dead or only asleep<br /></span> -<span class="i3">With her sleeping garments on?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She only sleeps, and in meadow and grove<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Again in gay dances her steps shall move;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But shall she come back with the friends we love?<br /></span> -<span class="i3">God knows, and His will be done.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_151" id="page_151"></a>{151}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="ON_A_DEAD_FIELD-FLOWER" id="ON_A_DEAD_FIELD-FLOWER"></a>ON A DEAD FIELD-FLOWER.</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i6">Torn by some careless hand<br /></span> -<span class="i6">From thy mother’s breast,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Where gentle breezes fann’d<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Thy little leaves to rest,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Here dost thou lie, forsaken,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">No more shalt thou awaken,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To gladden with thy beauty the wanderer opprest!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i6">No more at early morn,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">When the lark’s gay song,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Through grove and meadow borne,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Calls his merry mates along,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Shall thy tiny arms, outspreading,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Their grateful odour shedding,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Give silent, speaking welcome to Nature’s joyous throng!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_152" id="page_152"></a>{152}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i6">Peaceful and calm thy sleep!<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Thy life’s race run,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Thou hadst no cause to weep,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">No duty left undone!<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Sweet little withered blossom,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">How many a blighted bosom<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Would fain repose as softly beneath a summer’s sun!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i6">How many a child of care,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Won by thy power,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Might raise his voice in prayer,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Taught by thee, little flower!<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Ah! surely thou wast given,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">A gracious boon from heaven,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To throw its charm on sinful earth for one short blissful hour!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i6">Farewell! I may not stay;<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Thy frail, drooping form<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Heeds not the sun’s fierce ray,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Nor winter’s frowning storm!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_153" id="page_153"></a>{153}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i6">Like thee, kind hearts have perish’d<br /></span> -<span class="i6">By those that should have cherish’d,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And held the shield of friendship to shelter them from harm.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i6">Like thee, I soon must fade,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">And ’neath the sky<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Lifeless and cold be laid!<br /></span> -<span class="i6">But though I claim no sigh,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Though no fond heart may miss me<br /></span> -<span class="i6">When death’s pale lips shall kiss me,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If my short life be pure as thine, I need not fear to die.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="indd"><span class="smcap">May, 1857.</span></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_154" id="page_154"></a>{154}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="LINES" id="LINES"></a>LINES<br /><br /> -<small><span class="smcap">Written on the Departure of the Prince of Wales from Portland, October, 1860.</span></small><br /><br /> -<small>(<i>Set to Music by</i> <span class="smcap">F. Barnby</span>, Esq., <i>and sung at a Concert given in honour of the Prince, in Montreal, November 9th, 1860</i>.)</small></h3> - -<h4>I.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He stands alone upon the deck,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A prince without a peer,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He hears the cannon’s farewell boom,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The loud and loyal cheer—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A prayer from true New England hearts,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Honest and brave and free,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That God would guide Old England’s heir<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Safe o’er the stormy sea.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He sees the sad, regretful gaze<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That marks him as he goes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And prays that God may never make<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Such trusty friends his foes,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_155" id="page_155"></a>{155}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">But that, as brothers in the cause<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of Liberty and Right,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Under the sacred flag of Truth<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They ever may unite.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>II.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He stands alone upon the deck,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Son of the noblest Queen<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That ever placed a royal crown<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Upon a brow serene.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For her sake did we welcome him,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who owns an empire’s love;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But now we bless him for his own,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">God bless him from above!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He stands alone, a boy in years,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A “mighty one” by birth,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Crowned with a love that far excels<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The brightest crowns of earth;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor thinks he of the pomp and power<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That wait his glad return,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But thoughts of manly tenderness<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Deep in his bosom burn.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_156" id="page_156"></a>{156}</span></p> - -<h4>III.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He stands alone upon the deck,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Though thousands gaze on him,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He sees them not, for fond regret<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Has made his blue eyes dim;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His boyish lip is quivering,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And flushed his boyish cheek,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And his tearful eye speaks more, by far,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Than words could ever speak.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">God grant that he may ever be<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As good a prince as now,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor ever may true virtue’s crown<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Be lifted from his brow!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">God bless him for his mother’s sake,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">God bless him for his own,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As thus he stands upon the deck,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Mid thousands all alone!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_157" id="page_157"></a>{157}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="ODE_ON_THE_MARRIAGE_OF_THE_PRINCE_OF_WALES" id="ODE_ON_THE_MARRIAGE_OF_THE_PRINCE_OF_WALES"></a>ODE ON THE MARRIAGE OF THE PRINCE OF WALES.<br /><br /> -<small><span class="smcap">March</span> 10th, 1863.</small></h3> - -<h4>I.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Roses of England of every hue,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Your heads were lately bowed with the dew<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of sorrow for one that was good and true,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Through the length and breadth of your Island-garden,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Missing a hand that had cared for you!<br /></span> -<span class="i4">He sleeps in your midst, O Roses,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The Roses he loved and knew,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And blest was your sorrow, Roses,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">You gave unto worth its due!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>II.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But, O Roses, smile again,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">He for whom you weep<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Left his spirit among men<br /></span> -<span class="i3">When he fell asleep,—<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_158" id="page_158"></a>{158}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Left his spirit and his name,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Left his pure, unspotted fame,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">One who lives them all can claim.<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Smile on him, O Roses!<br /></span> -<span class="i3">He whose head reposes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In a sacred spot of your Island-garden,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Left him to you, good, brave and true,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">To cherish and guard you, Roses!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>III.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And now to you he brings<br /></span> -<span class="i4">A treasure to keep and love,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From the north-land home of the old sea kings,—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">A beautiful Danish Dove!<br /></span> -<span class="i4">I heard proud Ocean’s waves,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">England’s and Denmark’s slaves,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Tell it in all the caves<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That peep through the wall of your Island-garden!<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Then welcome her sweetly, Roses,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">She shall nestle among you soon,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And shall be to the loved of him whom you loved<br /></span> -<span class="i4">In sorrow a priceless boon!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_159" id="page_159"></a>{159}</span></p> - -<h4>IV.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Winds that sport with the sea,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Go east, west, south and north,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And from every Rose of the English tree<br /></span> -<span class="i3">That remembers its English birth<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Carry from far and wide<br /></span> -<span class="i3">A gentle message of love<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To the lone Rose-queen and her garden’s pride,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">And his beautiful Danish Dove.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_160" id="page_160"></a>{160}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="TO_A_SNOWBIRD" id="TO_A_SNOWBIRD"></a>TO A SNOWBIRD.</h3> - -<h4>I.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O gentle little comer<br /></span> -<span class="i3">In wintry days,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Far more than songs of summer<br /></span> -<span class="i3">I love thy lays.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They come when flowers are sweetest,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">And leaves are green;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But thou thy song repeatest<br /></span> -<span class="i3">In sterner scene.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>II.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">In joyous days are many<br /></span> -<span class="i3">The friends we find;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In dark ones scarcely any,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">To soothe the mind.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But friends in hours of sorrow<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Far more we prize<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Than those that go to-morrow<br /></span> -<span class="i3">If storms arise.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_161" id="page_161"></a>{161}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="THE_CLOUDS_ARE_BLUSHING" id="THE_CLOUDS_ARE_BLUSHING"></a>THE CLOUDS ARE BLUSHING.</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The clouds are blushing, the sun is gone,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He has been kissing them, every one,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Except the shy ones, that kept away,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And tearfully watched his parting ray;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">But they love him no less<br /></span> -<span class="i4">For their bashfulness;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The truest of lovers are not the most gay.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The sun is gone, and the blushing clouds<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Are growing dimmer, as Night enshrouds<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sky, sea and land in her sombre pall—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The sexton at old Earth’s funeral,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">When her race is run,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And her work is done,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And her children are weaned from her, one and all.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The Man of the Moon has lit his lamp,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And is now commencing his airy tramp,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_162" id="page_162"></a>{162}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">To see how the stars, those merry elves<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That wink as he passes, behave themselves.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">With steady pace<br /></span> -<span class="i4">He is running his race,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Holding his lamp with a dignified grace.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The sun is rising behind the hill,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And I am waiting and watching still—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Waiting and watching, as night goes by,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What queer little scenes take place in the sky,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">When the silence is deep<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And men are asleep,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And none are awake but the stars and I!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="indd"><span class="smcap">May, 1859.</span></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_163" id="page_163"></a>{163}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="UNSPOKEN" id="UNSPOKEN"></a>UNSPOKEN.</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">.... Quis prodere tanta relatu<br /></span> -<span class="i10">.... possit?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i9">—<i>Claudian.</i><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i3">There is a voice that never stirs the lips,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Felt, but not heard; that vibrates through the soul,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A solemn music; but no human speech<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Can give that music to the ambient air.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i3">The noblest poem poet ever wrote;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The brightest picture artist ever drew;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The loftiest music lyrist ever sung;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The gentlest accents woman ever spoke,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Are paraphrases of a felt original,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That lip, or pen, or pencil, cannot show<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Unto the seeing eye or listening ear.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The thoughts we utter are but half themselves.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The poet knows this well. The artist knows<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His hands bear not the burden of his thoughts<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_164" id="page_164"></a>{164}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Upon the canvas. The musician knows<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His soul must ever perish on his lips.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Even the eye,—“the window of the soul,”—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Though it may shed a light a little way,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Gives but a glimpse of that which burns within.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i3">The sweet, unconscious tenderness of flowers;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The boundless awe of star-encircled night;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The tear that trickles down an old man’s cheek;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ocean’s loud pulse, that makes our own beat high;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The vocal throb of a great multitude;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The pause when we have heard and said “Farewell,”<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And feel the pressure of a hand that’s gone;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The thought that we have wronged our truest friend,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When he is sleeping in the arms of Death;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The silent, fathomless anguish that engulfs<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Him who has found the precious power to love,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And sees that all he loves is torn from him;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His dying moments who is void of hope;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Jezebel; Nero; Judas; any one<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of all the hideous things that crawled through life<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In human form;—what mortal could express<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_165" id="page_165"></a>{165}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">All that he feels in one or all of these,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Giving the very image of his thought?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Life, Death, Hell, Judgment, Resurrection, <span class="smcap">God</span>—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who can express their meaning? Who can bound<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Awe that is infinite in finite words?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i3">Thus much of us must ever be concealed—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Spite of the high ambition to be born<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of what is noblest in us,—till His breath<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who woke the morning stars to sing their song,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Awakes our souls to fuller utterance.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_166" id="page_166"></a>{166}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="JEPHTHAH" id="JEPHTHAH"></a>JEPHTHAH.<br /><br /> -<small><span class="smcap">Judges</span> xi.</small></h3> - -<h4>I.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Rejoice ye tribes of Israel, the Lord was on your side,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Your fierce and daring enemies have fallen in their pride.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In vain the heathen strove against Jehovah’s awful word,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For Ammon’s proud, presumptuous sons have perished by the sword.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>II.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">From Aroer to Minnith and to Abel’s fertile plain<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of twenty noble cities the “mighty men” are slain;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Rejoice, thou son of Gilead, the Lord hath heard thy vow,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy foes are crushed, thy father’s sons before thy presence bow.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_167" id="page_167"></a>{167}</span></p> - -<h4>III.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">It is an hour of triumph to the warrior and his band,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">An hour of stern rejoicing to all the chosen land,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When the conqueror of Ammon, the valiant of his race,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beholds once more, with well-earned joy, his long-lost native place.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>IV.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But who is this advancing with gay attendant crowd?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O Jephthah! dost remember now the vow that thou hast vowed?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Why is thy face so ghastly pale? why sinks thy noble head?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy daughter’s blood must now atone for all that thou hast shed!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>V.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Honour and pomp and victory are all forgotten now,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And clouds of darkest anguish sweep across the father’s brow.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_168" id="page_168"></a>{168}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">He speaks—his words are words of death: he orders—is obeyed—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And lonely mountains mourn the fate of Israel’s queenly maid.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>VI.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Rejoice, ye tribes of Israel, the Lord was on your side,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Your fierce presumptuous enemies have fallen in their pride?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But, Jephthah, thou art childless now, lift up thy voice and weep!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No sound of wailing can disturb thy daughter’s dreamless sleep!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="indd"><span class="smcap">May, 1858.</span></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_169" id="page_169"></a>{169}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="DE_PROFUNDIS" id="DE_PROFUNDIS"></a>DE PROFUNDIS.</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I’ve seen the Ocean try to kiss the Moon,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till the wild effort of his hopeless love<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Tortured him into madness, and the roar<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From his great throat was terrible to hear;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And his vast bosom heaved such awful sighs<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As made Earth tremble to her very bones,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And all her children cling to her for fear.<br /></span> -<span class="i3">And I have watched and seen a gentle change<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Come over him, till, like a child, he lay,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That, disappointed, cries herself asleep,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And on her sorrow angels paint a dream<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So happy that her face is one sweet smile.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So have I seen the love-tost Ocean smile<br /></span> -<span class="i0">After his fury, till I almost hoped<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That the gay Moon would never tempt him more.<br /></span> -<span class="i3">But ever his heart throbs at her approach,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And he awakes in all the strength of love,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And frets himself to madness, watching her.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_170" id="page_170"></a>{170}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i3">And when, as I have sometimes seen, the Sun,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His mighty rival, struts before his eyes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With her he loves, and warmly looks on her,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Oh! how his heart is torn with jealousy!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Oh! how he froths and foams and moans and raves,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till all his energy is lost in sleep,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From which his love will rouse him soon again!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i3">So did I learn the Ocean’s tale of love,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Watching him, day by day, for many years,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hearing him often murmur in his sleep<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Such sweet, sad murmurs, that I pitied him;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, like Electra, sat beside his bed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till all the madness of his love awoke.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i3">O Ocean! thou art like the human heart,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which craves forever what it cannot have,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, though a little it forget its strife<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of longing, only wakes to long again<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For that which is no more accessible<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Than is the Moon to thee! Yet, shouldst thou lie<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dull, sluggish, motionless, thy very life<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Would grow corrupt, and from the stagnant mass<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_171" id="page_171"></a>{171}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">All things abominable would creep forth<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To soil with slimy poison the fair Earth;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And that alone which moves thee to thy heart<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Can keep thee pure and bright and beautiful!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i3">So, by the anguish of a hopeless love,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So, by the madness born of mental pain,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So, by the endless strife of joy and fear,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So, by all sufferings, tortures, agonies,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So, by the powers that shake it to its depths,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So, by the very loss of what it seeks,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The heart is purified, and that which seems<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Its death gives it a fresher, truer life.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_172" id="page_172"></a>{172}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="LOCHLEVEN" id="LOCHLEVEN"></a>LOCHLEVEN.</h3> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>“We passed Lochleven, and saw the Castle on the Lake from which -poor Queen Mary escaped.”—<i>The Queen’s Journal.</i></p></div> - -<h4>I.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Sweet words of pity! Oh! if thou could’st rise,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Fair Queen, from out the darkness of the tomb,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And their old beauty light again thine eyes,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And thy persuasive lips no more be dumb,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If thou, in all thy charms, should’st thus appear,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">How thy full heart would throb! With what surprise<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And rapture thou would’t watch thy gentle peer,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">By sad Lochleven, as, with tender sighs,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She mourned thy fate,—“Poor Mary wandered here.”<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>II.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">This vengeance Time hath brought thee; and thy foe,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Should she, too, rise with envy in her breast,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_173" id="page_173"></a>{173}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Would see thee throned with mercy in the best<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And purest heart that ever beat below<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The purple of a Queen; whose veins are warm<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With that same blood that gave the beauteous glow<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To thine own cheeks. In her still lives the charm,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For which, in spite of all, men worshipped thee,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Refined by honour, truth and purity.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_174" id="page_174"></a>{174}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="UNUS_ABEST" id="UNUS_ABEST"></a>UNUS ABEST.</h3> - -<h4>I.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A group of merry children played;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The smiling sun to watch them stayed;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A cloud came by with deadly shade;<br /></span> -<span class="i11">“Unus abest.”<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>II.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Bright faces glow ’mid dance and game;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hush! some one named a well-known name;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But dance and song go on the same;<br /></span> -<span class="i11">“Unus abest.”<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>III.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A father joins his children’s mirth;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A mother mourns an awful dearth;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“Ashes to ashes, earth to earth;”<br /></span> -<span class="i11">“Unus abest.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_175" id="page_175"></a>{175}</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>IV.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">One sits before a lonely fire,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Watching the flame’s unsteady spire<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wasting with suicidal ire;<br /></span> -<span class="i11">“Unus abest.”<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>V.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thus, day by day, in house or street,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We miss some form we used to meet;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Some human heart has ceased to beat;<br /></span> -<span class="i11">“Unus abest.”<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>VI.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The years pass on; our hair is grey;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A few years more we’ll pass away,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Each leaving to his friends to say<br /></span> -<span class="i11">“Unus abest.”<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>VII.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then let us live that, when the call<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of the Great Trumpet wakes us all,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">These words from God’s high throne may fall:<br /></span> -<span class="i11">“<span class="smcap">Nullus abest</span>.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_176" id="page_176"></a>{176}</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3><a name="THE_PRODIGALS_RETURN" id="THE_PRODIGALS_RETURN"></a>THE PRODIGAL’S RETURN.<br /><br /> -<small>(<i>St. Luke’s Gospel</i>, xv. 17-32.)</small></h3> - -<h4>I.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Long, my Father, have I wandered<br /></span> -<span class="i3">From the home I loved of old,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All Thy tender mercies squandered,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">All Thy loving-kindness sold.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>II.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I have sinned against Thy goodness,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Mocked Thy sorrow, scorned Thy love;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Treated all Thy care with rudeness,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">’Gainst Thy gentle Spirit strove.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>III.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Far from Thy free, bounteous table,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">I have fed on husks of sin;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wayward, thankless, and unstable,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Father, wilt Thou take me in?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_177" id="page_177"></a>{177}</span></p> - -<h4>IV.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Take me, oh! in mercy take me,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">To Thy blessed home again,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And let no enticement shake me,—<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Satan’s wiles nor wicked men.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>V.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I am sinful, doubting, fearing—<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Thou canst banish all alarm;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I am weak, and blind, and erring—<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Thou canst shield from every harm.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>VI.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Look upon me, crushed and broken,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Humble, contrite, at Thy feet.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dost Thou know me? Hast Thou spoken?<br /></span> -<span class="i3">“Hast Thou come Thy child to meet!”<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>VII.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Lost and found! Once dead, now living!<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Once an outcast, now a son!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Once despairing, now believing,—<br /></span> -<span class="i3">I my Father’s house have won.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="indd"><span class="smcap">Ballyshannon, 1855.</span></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_178" id="page_178"></a>{178}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="IT_IS_THE_QUIET_HOUR" id="IT_IS_THE_QUIET_HOUR"></a>IT IS THE QUIET HOUR.</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">It is the quiet hour, when weary Day<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whispers adieu in his dark Sister’s ear,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And my lone soul is wandering away<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To blissful scenes that are no longer near;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And well-known faces seem to smile again,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And voices long unheard sound blithe and gay,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As, when, of yore, a happy, careless train,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We plucked the flowers that grew by life’s young way.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sweet flowers!—destined to a swift decay!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bright faces!—that on earth have smiled your last!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Gay voices!—that have ceased to sing the lay<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That rose spontaneous in the joyous past!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Memory’s own stars amid my night of pain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shine out and tell me “Love is not in vain!”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_179" id="page_179"></a>{179}</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2> -ESSAYS<br /> -<br /> -IN<br /> -<br /> -TRANSLATION.<br /> -</h2> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_180" id="page_180"></a>{180}</span> </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_181" id="page_181"></a>{181}</span> </p> - -<h3><a name="HECTOR_AND_ANDROMACHE" id="HECTOR_AND_ANDROMACHE"></a>HECTOR AND ANDROMACHE.</h3> - -<h4>THE <a name="PARTING" id="PARTING"></a>PARTING.<br /><br /> -(<i>Homer’s Iliad</i> vi. 369-503.)</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thus, having done his duty to his gods<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And to his country, Hector sought his home,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where Art and Nature vied in loveliness.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Love winged his feet; his home he quickly found.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But her whom his soul loved he found not there,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her of the snowy arms, Andromache:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For she, with infant child and well-robed nurse,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Unto a tower that faced the Grecian camp<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Had gone to watch and weep. So Hector paused<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Upon the threshold, as he left the house,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And made enquiry of the household maids:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“Come now, handmaidens, answer me in truth,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whither white-armed Andromache has gone,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To seek my sisters, or my brothers’ wives,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_182" id="page_182"></a>{182}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or to Athene’s temple, where a crowd<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of matrons seek the bright-haired goddess’ wrath<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To turn to mercy by the strength of tears?”<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A trusty servant quickly made response:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“Hector, my lord, right willingly my lips<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall answer truthfully thy eager quest,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Not to thy sisters, nor thy brothers’ wives,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor to Athene’s temple, where a crowd<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of matrons seek the bright haired goddess’ wrath<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To turn to mercy by the strength of tears,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Has gone Andromache; but she has gone<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Unto a lofty tower of Ilion<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To watch the contest, for bad tidings came<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of Greeks victorious and of Trojans slain;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And at this moment, like a frenzied one,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She rushes to the rampart, while, behind,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her darling boy is carried by his nurse.”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She ceased; nor waited Hector long, but rushed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Forth from the house, along the very way<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That he had come, through fair-built Troja’s streets;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor paused he till he reached the Scæan gate,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">(Through which he meant to hie him to the plain).<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_183" id="page_183"></a>{183}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">But here Andromache of queenly dower,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His wife, the daughter of Eëtion,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who dwelt erstwhile ’neath Placus’ woody height,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In Thebe, ruling o’er Cilician men,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Came running till she met him in the way.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With her, the nurse, who to her bosom held<br /></span> -<span class="i0">An innocent-hearted babe, their only son,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His father’s joy, in beauty like a star,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Scamandrius named by Hector, but the host<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Called him Astyanax, the City’s King,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Honouring Hector chief defence of Troy.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And now he looked on him, and smiled a smile<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That spake his heart more than a thousand words,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And called the tears into his mother’s eyes.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She, clinging to her husband, grasped his hand,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, sobbing “Hector,” spoke to him these words:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“Ah! love, thy bravery will be thy bane,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, seeking glory, thou forgettest <i>him</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0">And me, ah! hapless me when thou art gone!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Soon, soon, I know it, all the foes of Troy,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Rushing on thee at once, shall take thy life.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, when I miss thee, it were better far<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That I were laid beneath the ground: for I<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_184" id="page_184"></a>{184}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall then have none to comfort me, not one,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But woes on woes, when thou hast left me, Hector!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No sire have I, nor gentle mother left,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Him</i>, as thou know’st, the proud Achilles slew,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And razed his fair-built city to the ground.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">High-gated Thebe. Yet he spoiled him not,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Although he slew him, but, with reverence,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Laid him in glittering arms upon the pyre,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And raised a mound in honour of his name,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which the hill-nymphs garlanded round with elms,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The daughters of the ægis-bearing Zeus.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And my seven brothers, in one fatal day,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Entered the gloomy shades where Pluto reigns,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Slain by the ruthless hand that slew my sire,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As, in their native fields, they watched the herds<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of kine, slow-footed, and of snowy sheep.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor did my queenly mother long survive,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For, led a captive to the Grecian camp,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With other spoils, the victor sent her home,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For goodly ransom, only to be slain<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By the sure shaft of huntress Artemis.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But thou art father, mother, brother, spouse,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My pride, my Hector! Oh! then, pity me!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_185" id="page_185"></a>{185}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Stay here and watch with me upon this tower,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Stay, stay, my Hector, go not hence to make<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy child an orphan and a widow me!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But set the forces by the Fig-tree Hill,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where the chief risk of hostile entrance lies,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And where the wall is weakest. At that point<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Already have the bravest of our foes—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Idomeneus and either Ajax, Diomede,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the two sons of Atreus—made assault,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whether incited thither by some voice<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Prophetic, or high hope of victory.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So stay, my Hector, they will need thee here.”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then valiant Hector, of quick-glancing helm,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thus made reply: “Of all that thou hast said,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My own true wife, I feel, I know the truth,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But—could I bear the taunts of Trojan chiefs<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And stately Trojan dames, if, coward-like,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I skulked from battle in my country’s need?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor does my spirit keep me from the fight,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For I have learned, brave-hearted, ’mid the first,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To draw my sword in Ilion’s defence,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To struggle for the honour of my sire<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_186" id="page_186"></a>{186}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">And for my own. Although too well I know<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The day shall come when sacred Troy must fall,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And Priam and his war-like hosts, who well<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Can wield in fight the ashen-handled spear!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But not the woes of my brave countrymen,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor yet my mother’s nor my kingly sire’s,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor all my brethren’s who shall bite the dust<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Neath bitter foes, touch me so much as thine,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When some one of the brass-mailed Greeks shall end<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy days of freedom, leading thee away<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In tears; and, haply, in far Argos, thou<br /></span> -<span class="i0">May’st tend another’s loom or water draw<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From Hyperea’s or Messeis’ fount,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A slavish duty forced on thee by fate.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And some one, looking on thy tears, may say:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘<i>She</i> was the wife of Hector, who excelled<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In fight among the chiefs that fought for Troy.’<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And thy poor heart will ache with vain regret<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For him whose strong right arm would keep thee free.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then may his heaped-up grave keep Hector’s eyes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From looking on thy sorrow and disgrace!”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">So spake the noble Hector, and his arms<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_187" id="page_187"></a>{187}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Extended to receive his son; but <i>he</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shrank, crying, to his well-robed nurse’s breast,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fearing the war-like presence of his sire,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His brazen armour and the horse-hair crest<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Above his helmet nodding fearfully.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And Hector took the helmet off his head<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And laid it down, all gleaming, on the ground;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And then he kissed and dandled him, and prayed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To Zeus and all the gods on his behalf:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“O Zeus and all ye gods, I pray you, grant<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That this, my son, may, as his sire, excel,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And may he truly be the City’s King!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And may men say of him, as he returns<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From war: ‘He’s braver than his father was.’<br /></span> -<span class="i0">May he from war-like men take gory spoils,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And may his mother glory in his might!”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Such was the warrior’s prayer; and in the arms<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of his dear wife he placed the little child.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She clasped the treasure to her fragrant breast,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Tearfully smiling. And her husband’s soul<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Was touched with pity, and he nursed her hand,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And called her by her name: “Andromache,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_188" id="page_188"></a>{188}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">My love, fret not thyself too much for me!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No man descends to Hades ere his time,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And none whoe’er is born escapes his fate,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whether his heart be cowardly or brave.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But, love, returning home, apply thyself<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To household duties, and thy handmaidens<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Despatch to theirs, the distaff and the loom.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For war must be the business of men,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And of all men that have been born in Troy,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">This war has need of none so much as me.”<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thus having spoken, noble Hector placed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The waving helmet on his head again.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, silently, Andromache returned<br /></span> -<span class="i0">(Oft looking back through her fast-gushing tears)<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To the fair mansion of her warrior spouse.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And there, amid her handmaidens, she wept;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And they wept, too, mourning their lord as dead,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While yet he lived: for, though he lived, they said<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They knew that he would never more return,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Exulting in his prowess, from the war.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_189" id="page_189"></a>{189}</span></p> - -<h4><a name="THE_LAMENT" id="THE_LAMENT"></a>THE LAMENT OF ANDROMACHE FOR HECTOR. -<br /><br />(<i>Homer’s Iliad</i> xxii. 437-515.)</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But she whom he had loved, Andromache,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Knew not of Hector’s death, for none had come<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To tell her of his stay without the walls.<br /></span> -<span class="i3">She in the lofty palace sat retired<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Within her chamber, working at the loom,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Weaving a purple vest, with varied flowers<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Embroidered.<br /></span> -<span class="i6">But, as she her fair-haired maids<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Enjoined to place upon the blazing fire<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The spacious caldron, that the soothing bath<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Might be for Hector ready when he came<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Home from the battle, knowing not that he,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Betrayed by blue-eyed Pallas, bleeding lay<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beneath Achilles’ hand, she heard the sound<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of weeping and of wailing on the walls;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And her limbs trembled, and the shuttle fell<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Upon the ground.<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Then cried she to her maids:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“Come, quickly, follow me, that we may see<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What thing has happened, for I surely heard<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_190" id="page_190"></a>{190}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">My mother’s voice. My heart within my breast<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bounds to my lips,—my knees are stiff with fear,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And—oh! I dread some ill to Priam’s house.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ah, me! I fear me much, great Peleus’ son<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Has severed my brave Hector from the town,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And drives him to the plain; and soon his life<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Will be the forfeit of his manly rage.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Never would he abide amid the crowd,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But must be ever foremost in the war,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In valour without peer.”<br /></span> -<span class="i8">She said, and flew<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Forth from the palace, like a frenzied one,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With throbbing heart; and her maids followed her.<br /></span> -<span class="i3">But when she reached the tower, amid the throng,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She stood upon the wall, and gazed around,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Until she saw her Hector dragged along<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With foul dishonour by the prancing steeds<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Towards the Grecian ships; and, at the sight,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Night, as of death, darkened her tearful eyes.<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Swooning, she fell, and scattered in her fall<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The ornaments that bound her captive hair,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wondrous in beauty, band, and wreath, and veil,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And fillet, Golden Aphrodite’s gift,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_191" id="page_191"></a>{191}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">What day brave Hector led Andromache<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Forth from her father’s house, Eëtion.<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Her sisters, who were nigh, with gentle care<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Received her sinking form, and by her side<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Waited in fear lest she should wake no more.<br /></span> -<span class="i3">But when, at last, the parted life returned<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the full sense of misery, she wept<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Among her kinsfolk, and, with choking sobs,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Called Hector’s name:<br /></span> -<span class="i8">“Ah, wretched me! my Hector,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Surely a cruel fate has followed us<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Since we were born,—thou, in this city, Troy,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In Priam’s palace,—I, in far-off Thebes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where Placus rears on high his woody crest,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The hapless daughter of a hapless king!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Oh! would that I had never seen the sun!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For now to Pluto’s dark and drear abode<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou hast descended, leaving me alone,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A mournful widow in thy empty halls.<br /></span> -<span class="i3">And he who was his hapless parents’ pride,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Our infant son, shall see thy face no more,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor ever more delight thy loving eyes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Since thine are closed in death.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_192" id="page_192"></a>{192}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i8">Unhappy boy!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If even he escape the Grecian sword,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Travail and woes must be henceforth his lot,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And stranger hands shall reap his father’s fields,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The woful day of orphanage has made<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His life all friendless and companionless,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The constant prey of grief, upon his cheek<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The tears shall never dry,—and he must beg<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With suppliant mien bread from his father’s guests,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Scarce heeded, or, if heeded, poorly fed.<br /></span> -<span class="i3">His pampered peer in age, whose ev’ry need<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Both parents well supply, with cruel hands<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thrusting him from the feast, will rudely say:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘Away! begone! thy father feasts not here.’<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Then to his widowed mother, all in tears,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My boy will come, my sweet Astyanax,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who, erstwhile, fondled on his father’s knee,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shared in the choicest titbits of the board;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And when, at eve, his childish prattle ceased,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lulled by his tender nurse, his little head<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Reposed on downy pillow, and his cheek<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Glowed with the silent pleasure of his heart.<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Now is he doomed to pain, his father gone,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_193" id="page_193"></a>{193}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whose valour won his name Astyanax,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘The City’s King,’—for Hector was of Troy,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Its gates and lofty walls, the chief defence.<br /></span> -<span class="i3">And thou, my Hector, liest all unclad<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Far from thy kin, beside the high-prowed ships,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of ravenous dogs and coiling worms the prey,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While in thy desert halls neglected lie<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The soft, fair garments that were wrought for thee,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Alas! in vain, by hands that love had taught.<br /></span> -<span class="i3">These now must only deck thy funeral pyre,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In mournful honour to thy cherished name—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The glory and the strength of fallen Troy.”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i3">Thus spake she ’mid her tears, and, all around,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The listening chorus of her maidens wept.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_194" id="page_194"></a>{194}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="THE_BEACON_LIGHT_ANNOUNCING_THE_FALL_OF_TROY_AT_ARGOS" id="THE_BEACON_LIGHT_ANNOUNCING_THE_FALL_OF_TROY_AT_ARGOS"></a>THE BEACON LIGHT ANNOUNCING THE FALL OF TROY AT ARGOS.<br /><br /> -<small>(<i>From the Agamemnon of Æschylus, v. 255.</i>)</small></h3> - -<p class="c"><span class="smcap">Chorus and Clytemnestra.</span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Cl.</span>—Word of joy this morning brings<br /></span> -<span class="i6">From the bosom of the night,<br /></span> -<span class="i4a">Higher joy than Hope’s gay wings<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Circled in her farthest flight!<br /></span> -<span class="i4a">Troy is taken, Troy is fallen<br /></span> -<span class="i6">By the victor Argive’s might!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Ch.</span>—Troy has fallen dost thou tell me?<br /></span> -<span class="i4a">Have I heard thy words aright?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Cl.</span>—Hearken! I repeat the words,—<br /></span> -<span class="i4a">Troy is held by Grecian lords.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Ch.</span>—Ah! what gladness fills my heart,<br /></span> -<span class="i4a">And my tears with rapture start!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_195" id="page_195"></a>{195}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Cl.</span>—Yes, thine eyes thy feeling shew.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Ch.</span>—This by what proof dost thou know?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Cl.</span>—The gods, that never would deceive,<br /></span> -<span class="i4a">Brought these tidings.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Ch.</span>—Dost believe<br /></span> -<span class="i4">In the fickle shapes of dreams?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Cl.</span>—Nay; the dozings of the mind<br /></span> -<span class="i4a">Leave in me no trace behind.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Ch.</span>—Some wild rumour, then, meseems?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Cl.</span>—Dost thou think me but a child,<br /></span> -<span class="i4a">Thus and thus to be beguiled?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Ch.</span>—How long, then, is it since proud Ilion fell?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Cl.</span>—Since but the night that bore this morning’s light.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Ch.</span>—And who this message hither brought so well?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_196" id="page_196"></a>{196}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Cl.</span>—Hephæstus, sending forth his beacon bright<br /></span> -<span class="i4a">From Ida’s summit; then, from height to height<br /></span> -<span class="i4a">With blaze successive, beacon kindling beacon,<br /></span> -<span class="i4a">Bore us the tidings. Ida glanced it forth<br /></span> -<span class="i4a">To Lemnos, even to th’ Hermæan rock;<br /></span> -<span class="i4a">And next steep Athos, dear to Zeus, received<br /></span> -<span class="i4a">From Lemnos the bright flame, which, in its strength<br /></span> -<span class="i4a">Joyous, pursued its onward course, and flew<br /></span> -<span class="i4a">O’er the broad shoulders of Oceanus,<br /></span> -<span class="i4a">Giving its gleams all-golden, like the sun,<br /></span> -<span class="i4a">To those that on Makistos kept high watch.<br /></span> -<span class="i4a">Nor dallying he, nor won by ill-timed sleep,<br /></span> -<span class="i4a">Assumed his part of messenger; and far<br /></span> -<span class="i4a">Over Euripus speeds the signal flame,<br /></span> -<span class="i4a">Telling their tasks to the Messapian guards,<br /></span> -<span class="i4a">Who answered with a blaze that straightway lit<br /></span> -<span class="i4a">The heather on old Graia’s mountain-tops.<br /></span> -<span class="i4a">Then in full-gleaming strength, like a fair moon,<br /></span> -<span class="i4a">The beacon-light shot o’er Asopus plain,<br /></span> -<span class="i4a">And lit with answering fire Cithæron’s cliff,<br /></span> -<span class="i4a">Whose emulous watch made brighter still the blaze.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_197" id="page_197"></a>{197}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i4a">Thence darted on the fiery messenger<br /></span> -<span class="i4a">Over Gorgopis lake and up the sides<br /></span> -<span class="i4a">Of Ægiplanctus, whence (the waiting wards<br /></span> -<span class="i4a">Heaping no niggard pile), a beard-like flame<br /></span> -<span class="i4a">Streamed onward till it touched the cliff that spies<br /></span> -<span class="i4a">The billows of the blue Saronic sea;<br /></span> -<span class="i4a">But paused not in its course, until it reached<br /></span> -<span class="i4a">The heights of Arachnæum, over there.<br /></span> -<span class="i4a">And thence it strikes upon these palace-roofs,—<br /></span> -<span class="i4a">Far offspring of the light of fallen Troy.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_198" id="page_198"></a>{198}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="PRIAM_AND_HELEN" id="PRIAM_AND_HELEN"></a>PRIAM AND HELEN.<br /><br /> -<small>(<i>Iliad</i> iii. 161.)</small></h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Priam, the King, to the tower where he sat called the beautiful Helen:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“Hither, my daughter, approach and sit by me here on this tower,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whence thou mayest see the spouse of thy youth, thy friends and thy kindred.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou knowest I never blamed thee; I blame the gods of Olympus,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who excited this war of sorrows and tears without number.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Come, Helen, sit by my side, and tell me the name of yon hero,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Mighty and stately in mien. Though others around him are taller,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">One of such beauty as his and of so majestic a bearing<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I have never beheld. If he is not a king he is kingly.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_199" id="page_199"></a>{199}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then Helen, fairest of women, answered the King: “O my father,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Father of Paris, by me thou art loved and revered and respected!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Would that an evil death had been my lot when I followed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hither thy son, Alexander, leaving my husband behind me,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Kinsmen, too, and sweet daughter, and friends that I knew since my childhood!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Twas not allowed me to die—so I pine away slowly with weeping.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But thou awaitest reply: thou seest the great Agamemnon,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wide-ruling king, as thou saidst, and a warrior valiant and skilful;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Once he was a brother to me—oh, shame!—in the days that have vanished!”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then, as a hero a hero, the old man admired Agamemnon:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“Happy art thou, Atrides, in birth, and in name, and in fortune;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_200" id="page_200"></a>{200}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Many are under thy sway—the flower of the sons of Achæa.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Once into vine-bearing Phrygia I entered, and saw many Phrygians<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Riding swift steeds, the forces of Otreus and Mygdon, the godlike,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who, with me for an ally, encamped by the banks of the Sangar,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Waiting the march of their foes, the Amazons, warrior-women:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But few in number were they to those quick-eyed sons of Achæa.”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Next, perceiving Ulysses, the old man said, “My dear Helen,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Tell me who this is also—in stature less than Atrides,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Less by a head, it may be, but broader in chest and in shoulders.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Rest on the ground his arms; but he through the ranks of the army<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ranges about like a ram; to a thick-fleeced ram I compare him,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_201" id="page_201"></a>{201}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wandering hither and thither through snow-white sheep in the pasture?”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Him then answered Helen—Helen of Jove descended:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“That is Ulysses, my father, the wily son of Laertes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nourished in Ithaca’s isle—Ithaca rocky and barren;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Skilled to contrive and complete wise plans and politic counsels.”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Her then the sage Antenor addressed, when she spake of Ulysses:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“Lady, in truth thou hast uttered these words; for once, I remember,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hither the noble Ulysses came with the brave Menelaus,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">(Thou wast the cause of his coming) and I was their host in my palace,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And of both the heroes I learned the genius and wisdom.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When they met in the Council, with Trojan heroes assembled,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_202" id="page_202"></a>{202}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Standing, Ulysses was less by a head than the brave Menelaus—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sitting, more honour was due to the thoughtful brow of Ulysses.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And when they wove, for the general ear, their thoughts into language,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Menelaus harangued very freely and briefly, and clearly,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Never missing his words, nor misapplying their meaning,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Though, as to years, not yet was he reckoned among the elders.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But when Ulysses arose, with his head full of wariest measures,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Standing, he fixed his eyes on the ground, and kept looking downwards,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Moving his sceptre nor backwards nor forwards, but holding it firmly,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Looking like one not wise; and those who beheld him might fancy<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That he was deeply enraged, and thus bereft of his reason.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But when, as I have seen, he sent his great voice from his bosom,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_203" id="page_203"></a>{203}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Words that came thick and fast, like the flakes of the snow in the winter,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then he that listened would say, no man might compete with Ulysse;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then we forgot how he looked as the words of Ulysses enchained us.”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thirdly, on seeing Ajax, the old King of Helen demanded:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“Who, so stately and tall, is this other chief of the Grecians,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Rising as high o’er the rest as the height of his head and broad shoulders?”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And thus the comely-robed Helen, the fairest of women, responded:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“He thou beholdest is Ajax, gigantic—to Grecians a bulwark!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And over there, like a god, Idomeneus stands ’mong the Cretans,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While around him the chiefs of the Cretan army are gathered.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Many a time has the brave Menelaus bidden him welcome,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_204" id="page_204"></a>{204}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">When to our Spartan home he came from the land of the Cretans.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But while I see all around, the rest of the dark-eyed Achæeans,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whom I well know, and whose names I could tell, two captains I see not—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Castor, tamer of steeds, and Pollux, skilful in boxing—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Both own brothers of mine: we three were nursed by one mother.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Either they have not come with the forces from far Lacedæmon,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or having come, it may be, to this place, in sea-traversing vessels,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Do not desire, after all to enter the battle of heroes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fearing the shame and reproach the crime of their sister would cause them.”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">So she spake; but them the life-giving earth was embracing<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In the dear land of their fathers over the sea, Lacedæmon!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_205" id="page_205"></a>{205}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="SONG_OF_THE_TROJAN_CAPTIVE" id="SONG_OF_THE_TROJAN_CAPTIVE"></a>SONG OF THE TROJAN CAPTIVE.<br /><br /> -<small>(<i>Euripidis Hecuba</i>, 905.)</small></h3> - -<h4>I.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O my Ilion, once we named thee<br /></span> -<span class="i3">City of unconquered men;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But the Grecian spear has tamed thee,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Thou canst never rise again.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Grecian clouds thy causeways darken;—<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Ah! they cannot hide thy glory!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ages hence shall heroes hearken<br /></span> -<span class="i3">To the wonders of thy story.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>II.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O my Ilion, they have shorn thee<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Of thy lofty crown of towers!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy poor daughter can but mourn thee<br /></span> -<span class="i3">In her lonely, captive hours.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_206" id="page_206"></a>{206}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">They have robbed thee of thy beauty,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Made thee foul with smoke and gore;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Tears are now my only duty,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">I shall tread thy streets no more.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>III.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O my Ilion, I remember—<br /></span> -<span class="i3">’Twas the hour of sweet repose,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And my husband in our chamber<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Slept, nor dreamt of Grecian foes.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For the song and feast were over,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">And the spear was hung to rest—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Never more, my hero-lover,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Aimed by thee at foeman’s breast.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>IV.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O my Ilion, at the mirror<br /></span> -<span class="i3">I was binding up my hair,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When my face grew pale with terror<br /></span> -<span class="i3">At the cry that rent the air.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hark! amid the din, the Grecian<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Shout of triumph “Troy is taken;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ten years’ work have now completion—<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Ilion’s haughty towers are shaken!”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_207" id="page_207"></a>{207}</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>V.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O my Ilion, forth I hied me<br /></span> -<span class="i3">From his happy home and mine;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hapless, soon the Greeks descried me,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">As I knelt at Phœbe’s shrine.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then, my husband slain before me,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">To the shore they hurried me,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And from all I loved they tore me<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Fainting o’er the cruel sea.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_208" id="page_208"></a>{208}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="BELLEROPHON" id="BELLEROPHON"></a>BELLEROPHON.<br /><br /> -<small>(<i>Iliad</i> vi. 152-195.)</small></h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">In a far nook of steed-famed Argos, stand<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The city Ephyra. Here Sisyphus,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The wily son of Æolus, was king.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">His son was Glaucus, and to him was born<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bellerophon of honour without stain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Gifted with every grace the gods bestow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And manly spirit that won all men’s love.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Him Prœtus, who by Jove’s supreme consent<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Held a harsh sceptre over Argolis,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hated and doomed to exile or to death.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For fair Antea loved Bellerophon<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With a mad passion, and, her royal spouse<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Deceiving, told her longing to his guest.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But brave Bellerophon, as good as brave,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Set a pure heart against her evil words.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_209" id="page_209"></a>{209}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then with false tongue she stood before the king:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“O Prœtus, die or slay Bellerophon,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who sought her love, who only loveth thee.”<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And anger seized the king at what he heard,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet was he loath to kill him, for the laws<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That make the stranger sacred he revered.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But unto Lycia, bearing fatal signs,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And folded in a tablet, words of death,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He sent him, and enjoined him these to give<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Unto Antea’s sire—his step-father,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thinking that he would perish.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i12">So he went,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Blameless, beneath the guidance of the gods,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And reached the eddying Xanthus. There the king<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of wide-extending Lycia honoured him<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nine days with feasting and with sacrifice.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But when the tenth rose-fingered morn had come,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He asked him for his message and the sign<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whate’er he bore from Prœtus,—which he gave.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And when he broke the evil-boding seal,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He first enjoined him the Chimæra dire<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_210" id="page_210"></a>{210}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">To slay,—of race divine and not of men,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In front a lion, dragon in the rear,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And goat between, whose breath was as the strength<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of fiercely blazing fire. And this he slew,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Trusting the portents of the gods. And next<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He conquered the wild, far-famed Solymi,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The hardest battle fought with mortal men.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The man-like Amazons he next subdued;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And as he journed homeward, fearing nought,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">An ambuscade of Lycia’s bravest men,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Attacked him, but he slew them one by one,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And they returned no more.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i11">And so the king<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Seeing his race divine by noble deeds<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Well proven, made the Lycian realm his home,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His beauteous daughter gave him for his wife,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And made him partner in his royal power.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And of the choicest land for corn and wine,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The Lycians gave him to possess and till.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_211" id="page_211"></a>{211}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="HORACE" id="HORACE"></a>HORACE.<br /><br /> -<small>(<i>Book</i> i. <i>Ode</i> xi.)</small></h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Seek not to know (for ’tis as wrong as vain)<br /></span> -<span class="i3">What term of life to thee or me<br /></span> -<span class="i3">The god may grant, Leuconoe,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor with Chaldean numbers vex thy brain.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But calmly take what comes of joy or pain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whether Jove grant us many winters more,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Or this complete our destiny<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Which makes the stormy Tuscan sea<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Weary its strength with angry shocks<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Against the hollow-echoing rocks.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Be gently wise, my friend, and while you pour<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The ruddy wine, live long by living well.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While we are speaking, hark! time’s envious knell!<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Let us enjoy to-day, nor borrow<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Vague grief by thinking of to-morrow.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_212" id="page_212"></a>{212}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="ORPHEUS_AND_EURYDICE" id="ORPHEUS_AND_EURYDICE"></a>ORPHEUS AND EURYDICE.<br /><br /> -<small>(<i>From</i> <span class="smcap">Virgil</span>—<i>Georgic</i> IV. 457-527.)</small></h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The fair, young bride of Orpheus, as she fled<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From Aristæus who designed her ill,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With hasty feet, along the river bank<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of Hebrus, found her death. For in her way<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There lurked a baleful serpent ’mid the grass.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Full long the choir of Dryads mourned her fate,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And set the mountains wailing with their woe.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pangæus answered back to Rhodope, and grief<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Held all the land of Rhesus, dear to Mars;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And Hebrus, weeping, rolled to distant shores<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The story of the dead Eurydice.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But Orpheus in his sorrow touched his harp,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, sitting by the wild beach all alone,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sang from the rising till the setting sun<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of his own sweet, lost wife Eurydice.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_213" id="page_213"></a>{213}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till, drawing solace to his wounded love,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Through the fierce jaws of Tænarus he passed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The gates of Hades, and the gloomy grove,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All thick with darkest horror, and, at last,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Entered the drear abodes where Pluto reigns<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Among the dead—inexorable king.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And then he put his fingers to the strings<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And sang of her he loved, Eurydice;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And made such sweet, enchanting melody<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That all the ghosts of Erebus were charmed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And hied from all recesses at the sound;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Gathering around him, many as the birds<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That hide themselves by thousands ’mid the leaves<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of some sweet-smelling grove, when eventide<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or wintry shower calls them from the hills.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The shades of mothers, sires and mighty men,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of maids for whom the torch was never lit,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And boys whose pyres their parents’ eyes had seen,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Listened, enchained, and for a while forgot<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The slimy weeds that grew upon the banks,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of black Cocytus, and the hateful Styx,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whose nine slow streams shut out the happy world.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_214" id="page_214"></a>{214}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">And even Tartarus, Death’s deepest home,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Was stricken with amazement; and the rage<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of snake-tressed Furies ceased; and Cerberus<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Restrained his triple roar, and hellish blasts<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Forbore a while to turn Ixion’s wheel.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And now, all danger past, to upper air<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He turned his eager feet, Eurydice<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Restored, near-following (for Proserpine<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Had so enjoined), when Orpheus, mad with joy<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And longing to behold her face once more,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Paused and looked back, unmindful. Fatal look,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That robbed him of his treasure on the verge<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of full fruition in the world’s broad light!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No hope of mercy; Hell no mercy knows<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For broken law. This Orpheus learned too late,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When triple thunder bellowed through the deeps<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of dark Avernus.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i12">Then Eurydice:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“What frenzy, Orpheus, has possessed thy soul<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To ruin thee and me, ah! wretched me,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whom now the Fates call back to Hades’ gloom!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_215" id="page_215"></a>{215}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Alas! the sleep of death is on my eyes.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Farewell, my Orpheus! darkness hems me round—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Farewell! in vain I stretch weak hands to thee—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thine, thine no more! Farewell! Farewell!”<br /></span> -<span class="i12">She said,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And vanished from his sight away, as smoke<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fades into viewless air, nor saw she more<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her Orpheus.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i8">He in vain the fleeting shade<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sought to restrain with outspread hands; in vain<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Essayed to speak, dumb-stricken with surprise;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In vain, to cross the gloomy Stygian wave.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Alas! what could he do, or whither go,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Since she was gone, the sum of all his joy?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or, with what tears, what plaintive, moving words,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Seek respite from the gods that rule below<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For her who, shivering, crossed the darksome stream?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">So passed she from him; and, for seven long months<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beneath a rock by Strymon’s lonely flood<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He wailed her fate and his, till all the caves<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Re-echoed mournfully, and savage beasts,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Assuaged, knew milder breasts, and strength of oaks<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_216" id="page_216"></a>{216}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Was captive led by magic of his song.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Even as, in woods, beneath a poplar’s shade<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lone Philomel laments her callow brood,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Robbed from the nest by cruel, churlish hands;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And she, poor childless mother, all night long,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Perched on a branch, renews the doleful strain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And with her plaints makes all the grove resound;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So Orpheus mourned Eurydice, nor dreamed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of other love, nor other nuptial tie.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Alone, ’mid Boreal ice, and by the banks<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of snow-girt Tanais, and through the plains<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That feel the chill breath of Niphæan hills,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He sang the loss of sweet Eurydice<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And Pluto’s bootless gift. And even when<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The Thracian maidens maddened at the slight<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of their own beauty in such lasting grief<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And wild from Bacchic orgies, slew the bard,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Strewing the broad fields with his severed limbs;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then, even then, when Hebrus bore away<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The tuneful head torn from the marble neck,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The cold lips, faithful still to their lost love,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Murmured, “Eurydice! Eurydice!”<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the sad banks replied “Eurydice!”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_217" id="page_217"></a>{217}</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3><a name="ADRIANS_ADDRESS_TO_HIS_SOUL" id="ADRIANS_ADDRESS_TO_HIS_SOUL"></a>ADRIAN’S ADDRESS TO HIS SOUL.<br /><br /> -<small>(<i>From Catullus.</i>)</small></h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Animula! vagula, blandula,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hospes, comesque corporis,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Quæ nunc abibis in loca,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pallidula rigida, nudula<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nec, ut soles, dabis jocos?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="indd">The same rendered into English:</p> - -<h4>VERSION I.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Darling, gentle, wandering soul,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Long this body’s friend and guest,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Tell what region is thy goal,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Pale and cold and all undrest,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Lost thy wonted play and jest?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_218" id="page_218"></a>{218}</span></p> - -<h4>VERSION II.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Spirit! sweet, gentle thing,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou seemest taking wing<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For some new place of rest;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So long this body’s guest<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And friend, dost thou forsake it,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And pallid, cold, and naked,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Thou wanderest,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Bereft of joy and jest,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whither, ethereal thing?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>VERSION III.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Dear, pretty, fluttering, vital thing,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">So long this body’s guest and friend,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Ah! tell me, whither dost thou wend<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Thy lonely way,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pallid and nude and shivering,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Nor, as thy wont is, gently gay?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_219" id="page_219"></a>{219}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="PYRAMUS_AND_THISBE" id="PYRAMUS_AND_THISBE"></a>PYRAMUS AND THISBE.<br /><br /> -<small>(<i>From Ovid’s “Metamorphoses.”</i>)</small></h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Fairest of many youths was Pyramus,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And Thisbe beauteous among Eastern maids.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">These dwelt in neighbour houses, where, of old,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Semiramis girt Babylon with walls.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, being neighbours, these two fell in love,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And love with time grew stronger. They had wed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But that their parents willed it not, and so<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Forbade all intercourse. With mutual breasts,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Each sighed for other. Parted thus, they spoke<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By signs, and, being hindered, loved the more.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">There was an opening in the common wall<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That made their houses two, long unobserved,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But (what does not love see?) by them discerned.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of this they made a passage for the voice,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, safe from notice, murmured loving words.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_220" id="page_220"></a>{220}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">As oftentimes they stood, the wall between,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whispering and catching soft replies in turn,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“O envious wall, that standest in our way,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who love each other!” they would, vexed, exclaim,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“If thou would’st let us meet full face to face,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or e’en enough to touch each other’s lips!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And yet we are not thankless; ’tis to thee<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We owe this pleasure of exchanging words.”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thus oft conversing, at approach of night,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They said “farewell,” and kissed with longing lips,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That never met, the wall that stood between;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And when Aurora quenched the fires of night,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And Phœbus dried the dew upon the grass,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They came again unto the trysting place.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Once, having come and many plaints exchanged<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of their sad lot, they each with each agreed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To leave their homes, and in the silent night<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Baffling their guardians, through the quiet streets,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pass to the fields, and meet at Ninus’ tomb.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There stood a tree with snow-white fruit adorned—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A lofty mulberry—a cool fount close by;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_221" id="page_221"></a>{221}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">This was to be their trysting-place.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i12">That day<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Was slow to vanish in the western sea.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then in the darkness Thisbe issued forth,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With stealthy footsteps, and with close-veiled face.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She reached the tomb, and ’neath the trysting-tree<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sat down (love made her confident); when, lo!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A lioness, her mouth all froth and blood,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From recent slaughter, came to quench her thirst<br /></span> -<span class="i0">At the near fountain.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i10">Thisbe saw her come,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">(For the moon shone) and fled with frightened feet<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Into a cave, and, running, dropt her veil;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which, having quenched her thirst, the lioness,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Returning, found, and tore with bloody mouth.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Just then, came Pyramus with later feet,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who saw the lion’s tracks deep in the soil,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And paled with sudden fear. But when he found<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His Thisbe’s garment stained with blood, he cried,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“One fatal night two lovers shall destroy,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_222" id="page_222"></a>{222}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of whom she was the worthier of life!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My soul is guilty, O dear perished love,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who bade thee come at night to scenes of dread,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And let thee come the first. O lions! rush<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From where you have your dens beneath the rock,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And tear these cursed limbs with ruthless teeth!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But—’tis a coward’s part to wish for death.”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then with the veil he seeks the trysting-tree,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And to its cherished folds gives kisses, tears,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And to his sword, “Drink now my blood,” he cries,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And sinks it in his heart, and draws it forth,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And falling, lies at length with upturned face.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The blood spurts forth, as when a pipe that’s burst<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Throws from the hissing gap a slender jet,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beating the obstant air with watery blows.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The trysting-tree is sprinkled with his blood,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till its fair fruit is changed to gloomy black.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then Thisbe, half afraid e’en yet, returns,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lest Pyramus should miss her. Eagerly,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With eyes and heart, she looks for her beloved,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Burning to tell him of the danger past.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_223" id="page_223"></a>{223}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">But when she gained the place and saw the tree<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sadly discoloured, she was sore in doubt<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whether or no it was the very spot;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till, all aghast, she saw the blood-stained ground<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And quivering limbs, and started, horror-struck,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Trembling as does the sea beneath a breeze.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And when she recognized her dear one’s face,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She threw her tender arms above her head,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And tore her hair, and the dear form embraced,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Filling the wound with tears, and with her lips<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Touched the cold face, and called him by his name;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“Pyramus, answer, thine own Thisbe calls!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Oh! hear me, Pyramus, look up once more!”<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Touched by the voice, he oped his dying eyes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then closed them on the world for evermore.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She now saw all—her veil—the empty sheath.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“Ah! hapless love,” she said, “hath slain my love,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But love will make me strong like him to die,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fearing no wounds; for I will follow him,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The wretched cause—his comrade, too, in death:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And death that parted us shall re-unite.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O wretched parents of a wretched pair,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_224" id="page_224"></a>{224}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whom true love bound together to the last,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hear this, my dying voice, and not refuse<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To let our ashes mingle in one urn.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O trysting-tree, whose funeral branches shade<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The corse of one, and soon shall wave o’er two,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Henceforth forever be our mark of fate,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bear in thy fruit the memory of our death!”<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She spake these words, and fell upon the sword,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the point entered deep within her breast.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His blood, yet warm, was mingled with her own.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Her dying prayer the gods in heaven heard,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her dying prayer touched the lone parents’ hearts,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And both their ashes mingle in one urn.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_225" id="page_225"></a>{225}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="THE_WITHERED_LEAF" id="THE_WITHERED_LEAF"></a>THE WITHERED LEAF.<br /><br /> -<small>(<i>From the French of A. V. Arnault.</i>)</small><br /><br /> -<small>“De ta tige détachée.”</small></h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“From thy branchlet torn away,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whither, whither dost thou stray,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Poor dry leaf?”—“I cannot say.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Late, the tempest struck the oak,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which was hitherto my stay.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ever since that fatal stroke,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To the faithless winds a prey,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Not a moment’s rest I gain.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From the forest to the plain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I am carried by the gale.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet I only go the way<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That the rose-leaf shuns in vain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And where laurel-leaves grow pale.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_226" id="page_226"></a>{226}</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3><a name="ANDRE_CHENIERS_DEATH-SONG" id="ANDRE_CHENIERS_DEATH-SONG"></a>ANDRÉ CHÉNIER’S DEATH-SONG.</h3> - -<p>André Chénier, for having dared to write against the excesses of his -countrymen, was summoned before the Revolutional Tribunal, condemned and -executed, in the year 1794. The first eight stanzas (in the translation) -he composed in prison, after his condemnation; the two last he wrote at -the foot of the scaffold, while waiting to be dragged to execution. He -had just finished the line, “Le sommeil du tombeau pressera ma -paupière,” when his turn came, and his words had their fulfillment. In -the translation, the spirit, not the letter, has been regarded.</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When one lone lamb is bleating in the shambles,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And gleams the ruthless knife,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His yester playmates pause not in their gambols,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Their wild, free joy of life,<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">To think of him; the little ones that played<br /></span> -<span class="i4">With him in sunny hours,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In bright green fields, and his fair form arrayed<br /></span> -<span class="i4">With ribbons gay and flowers,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_227" id="page_227"></a>{227}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Mark not his absence from the fleecy throng;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Unwept he sheds his blood;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And this sad destiny is mine. Ere long<br /></span> -<span class="i4">From this grim solitude<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I pass to death. But let me bear my fate,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And calmly be forgot;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A thousand others in the self-same state<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Await the self-same lot.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And what were friends to me? Oh! one kind voice<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Heard through those prison-bars,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Did it not make my drooping heart rejoice,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Though from my murderers<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">’Twas bought, perhaps? Alas! how soon life ends!<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And yet why should my death<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Make any one unhappy? Live, my friends.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Nor think my fleeting breath<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Calls you to come. Mayhap, in days gone by,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">I, too, from sight of sorrow<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Turned, careless, with self-wrapt unpitying eye,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Not dreaming of the morrow.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_228" id="page_228"></a>{228}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And now misfortune presses on my heart,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Erewhile so strong and free,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Twere craven to ask you to bear its smart—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Farewell, nor think of me!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ij">*****<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">As a faint ray or zephyr’s latest breath<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Revives the dying day,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beneath the scaffold, that stern throne of death,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">I sing my parting lay.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Before an hour, with wakeful foot and loud,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Has marked its journey’s close<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On yon bright disc, the sleep of death shall shroud<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Mine eyes from worldly woes!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_229" id="page_229"></a>{229}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="THE_LAKE" id="THE_LAKE"></a>THE LAKE.<br /><br /> -<small>(<i>From Lamartine.</i>)</small></h3> - -<h4>I.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For ever drifting towards shores unknown,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In endless night, returnless, borne away,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We never, in Time’s sea our anchor thrown,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Pause for a single day!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>II.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O Lake, I come alone to sit by thee,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Upon the stone where thou didst see her rest,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hardly a year ago, it seems, when she<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Looked on thy wavy breast!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>III.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thus didst thou threaten to those stooping rocks,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thus on their wave-worn sides thou then didst beat,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thus did thy foam, aroused by windy shocks,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Play round my darling’s feet!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_230" id="page_230"></a>{230}</span></p> - -<h4>IV.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">One evening, as we floated on the calm,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And not a sound was heard afar or near,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Save oary music mingling firm and clear,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With thy soft rippling psalm,—<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>V.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then, all at once, sweet tones, too sweet for earth,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Awoke the sleeping echoes into bliss,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The waves grew hushed, the voice I loved gave birth<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To such a strain as this:<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h5>1.</h5> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“O Time, suspend thy flight, and happy hours,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Linger upon your ways!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Oh! let us know the fleeting joy that’s ours<br /></span> -<span class="i4">These brightest of our days!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h5>2.</h5> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For the unhappy ones who thee implore,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Flow swiftly as thou canst,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With all their cares; but leave us, pass us o’er<br /></span> -<span class="i4">In happiness entranced!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_231" id="page_231"></a>{231}</span></p> - -<h5>3.</h5> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Alas! in vain I ask some moments more,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">For Time escapes and flies!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I ask this night to linger; lo, the power<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Of darkness quickly dies!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h5>4.</h5> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But let us love, and, while we may, be blest,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Before our hour is gone!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor time, nor man has any point of rest,<br /></span> -<span class="i4"><i>It</i> flows, and <i>we</i> float on!”<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>VI.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O jealous Time! those moments of delight,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When Love pours bliss in streams upon the heart,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Must they fly from us with as swift a flight<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As days of ill depart?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>VII.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Alas! can we not even mark the track?<br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>Forever lost!</i> like all that went before!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And Time that gave them and then took them back<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Shall give them back no more!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_232" id="page_232"></a>{232}</span></p> - -<h4>VIII.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O Lake, mute rocks and caves and forest shade,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Whose beauty Time is powerless to blight,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dear nature, suffer not the thought to fade<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of that sweet, happy night!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>IX.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Still let it live in all thy scene, fair Lake,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In calm and storm, and make thy smiles more bright,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And every tree and rock new meaning take<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From that sweet, happy night.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>X.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Let it be heard in every passing breeze,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And in the sound of shore to shore replying,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Let it be seen in every star that sees<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Its image in thee lying!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>XI.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And let the moaning wind and sighing reed,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the light perfume of the balmy air,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All that is heard or seen or felt declare,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">“<i>They loved—they loved, indeed</i>!”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_233" id="page_233"></a>{233}</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3><a name="THE_WANDERING_JEW" id="THE_WANDERING_JEW"></a>THE WANDERING JEW.<br /><br /> -<small>(<i>From Beranger.</i>)</small></h3> - -<h4>I.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Christian, a pilgrim craves from you<br /></span> -<span class="i3">A glass of water at your door!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I am—I am—the Wandering Jew—<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Chained to a whirlwind evermore!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Though ever young, weighed down with years,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">The end of Time my one glad dream;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Each night I hope the end appears,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Each morning brings its cursed gleam.<br /></span> -<span class="i10">Never, never,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till this earth its race has run,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall my goal of death be won.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>II.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For eighteen centuries, alas!<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Over the dust of Greece and Rome,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_234" id="page_234"></a>{234}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">I’ve seen a thousand kingdoms pass,—<br /></span> -<span class="i3">And yet the end delays to come.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I’ve seen the good spring up in vain,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">I’ve seen the ill wax strong and bold,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And from the bosom of the main<br /></span> -<span class="i3">I’ve seen twin worlds succeed the old.<br /></span> -<span class="i10">Never, never,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till this earth its race has run,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall my goal of death be won.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>III.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">God gives me life to punish me;<br /></span> -<span class="i3">I cling to all that hopes for death,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But ere my soul’s desire I see,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">I feel the whirlwind’s vengeful breath.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How many a poor, sad man of grief<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Has asked from me the means to live!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But none from me has gained relief,—<br /></span> -<span class="i3">My hand has never time to give!<br /></span> -<span class="i10">Never, never,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till this earth its race has run,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall my goal of death be won.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_235" id="page_235"></a>{235}</span></p> - -<h4>IV.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Alone, in shade of downing trees,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Upon the turf, where water flows,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If I enjoy a moment’s ease,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">The whirlwind breaks my short repose.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Oh! might not angry heaven allow<br /></span> -<span class="i3">One moment stolen from the sun!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is less than endlessness enow?<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Or shall this journey ne’er be done?<br /></span> -<span class="i10">Never, never,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till this earth its race has run,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall my goal of death be won.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>V.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">If e’er I see a child’s sweet face,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">And in its pretty, joyous pride,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My own lost innocents’ retrace,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">The Hoarse Voice grumbles at my side.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Oh! you, who lust for length of days,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Dare not to envy my career!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That sweet child-face on which I gaze<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Shall long be dust while I am here!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_236" id="page_236"></a>{236}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i10">Never, never,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till this earth its race has run,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall my goal of death be won.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>VI.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I find some trace of those old walls,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Where I was born long, long ago;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I fain would stay, the whirlwind calls—<br /></span> -<span class="i3">“Pass on! thy fathers sleep below,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But in their tombs no place is kept<br /></span> -<span class="i3">For thee; thou still must wander on,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor sleep till all thy race has slept,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">And all the pride of man is gone.”<br /></span> -<span class="i10">Never, never,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till this earth its race has run,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall my goal of death be won.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>VII.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I outraged with a laugh of scorn<br /></span> -<span class="i3">The God-man in His hour of woe—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But from my feet the way is torn—<br /></span> -<span class="i3"><i>I feel the whirlwind</i>—I must go.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_237" id="page_237"></a>{237}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">You, who feel not another’s pain,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Tremble—and help him while you can;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The crime I dared was foul disdain<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Not of God only, but of Man.<br /></span> -<span class="i10">Never, never,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till this earth its race has run,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall my goal of death be won.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="c">FINIS.</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/back.jpg" width="372" height="500" alt="" title="" /> -</div> - 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