IMAGE EVALUATBON 
 TEST TARGET (MT-3) 
 
 y 
 
 // 
 
 // 
 
 '/ ^ 4 
 
 < % 
 
 Wr 
 
 / 
 
 C/a 
 
 
 1.0 
 
 I.I 
 
 1.25 
 
 
 25 
 2.2 
 
 M 
 
 1.8 
 
 U III 1.6 
 
 <^ 
 
 % 
 
 "W 
 
 /a 
 
 e. 
 
 m 
 
 e-. 
 
 > > 
 
 
 /^ 
 
 % 
 
 ^ 
 
 ^. 
 
 /A 
 
 y 
 
 
 % 
 
 <^ 
 
CIHM/ICMH 
 
 Microfiche 
 
 Series. 
 
 CIHM/ICMH 
 Collection de 
 microfiches. 
 
 Canadian Institute for Historical Microreproductions 
 
 institut Canadian de microreproductions historiques 
 
 1980 
 
Technical Notes / Notes techniques 
 
 The Institute has attempted to obtain the best 
 original copy available for filming. Physical 
 features of this copy which may alter any of the 
 images in the reproduction are checked below. 
 
 n 
 n 
 
 Coloured covers/ 
 Couvertures de couleur 
 
 Coloured maps/ 
 
 Cartes gdographiques en couleur 
 
 Pages discoloured, stained or foxed/ 
 Pages d6color6es, tachetdas ou piqudes 
 
 Tight binding (may cause shadows or 
 distortion along interior margin)/ 
 Reliure serrd (peut causer de I'ombre ou 
 de la distortion le long de la marge 
 int^rieure) 
 
 L'Institut a microfilm^ le meilleur exemplaire 
 qu'il lui a 6t6 possible de se procurer. Certains 
 difauts suscaptibles de nuire d la qualitd de la 
 reproduction sont not6s ci-dessous. 
 
 D 
 D 
 
 D 
 
 Coloured pages/ 
 Pages de couleur 
 
 Coloured plates/ 
 Planches en couleur 
 
 Show through/ 
 Transparence 
 
 Pages damaged/ 
 Pages endommag^es 
 
 Tl 
 
 P" 
 u1 
 fil 
 
 Tl 
 
 C( 
 
 Ol 
 
 ai 
 
 Tl 
 fi 
 in 
 
 l\/ 
 in 
 
 u| 
 b( 
 fc 
 
 D 
 
 Additional comments/ 
 Commentaires suppldmentaires 
 
 Bibliographic Notes / Notes bibliographiques 
 
 D 
 D 
 
 Only edition available/ 
 Seule Edition disponible 
 
 Bound with other material/ 
 Reli6 avec d'autres documents 
 
 n 
 
 Pagination incorrect/ 
 Erreurs de pagination 
 
 Pages missing/ 
 Des pages manquent 
 
 n 
 
 Cover title missing/ 
 
 Le titre de couverture manque 
 
 Plates missing/ 
 
 Des planches manquent 
 
 D 
 
 Maps missing/ 
 
 Des cartes g^ographiques manquent 
 
 Q 
 
 Additional comments/ 
 Commentaires suppldmentaires 
 
 Includes supplementary material. 
 
i 
 
 ns 
 la 
 
 The images app'jaring here are the best quality 
 possible considering the condition and legibility 
 uf the original copy and in keeping with the 
 filming ontract specifications. 
 
 The last recorded frame on each microfiche shall 
 contain the symbol — ^- (meaning CONTINUED"), 
 or the symbol V (meaning "END"), whichever 
 applies. 
 
 Les images suivantes ont 6t6 reproduites avec le 
 plus grand soin, compte tonu de la condition at 
 de la nettetd de i'exemplaire film6, et en 
 conformity avec les conditions du contrat de 
 filmage. 
 
 Un des symboles suivants apparaitra sur la der- 
 nidre image de cheque microfiche, selon le cas: 
 le symboie — ^ signifie "A SUIVRE", le symbole 
 V signifie "FIN". 
 
 The original copy was borrowed from, and 
 filmed with, the kind consent of the following 
 institution: 
 
 Library of the Public 
 
 Archives of Canada 
 
 L'exr .tplaire film6 fut reproduit grdce d la 
 g6ndrosit6 de I'^tablissement prdteur 
 suivant : 
 
 La bibliothdque des Archives 
 
 publiques du Canada 
 
 Maps or plates too large to be entirely included 
 in one exposure are filmed beginning in the 
 upper left hand corner, left to right and top to 
 bottom, as many frames as required. The 
 following diagrams illustrate the method: 
 
 Les cartes ou les planches trop grandes pour dtre 
 reproduites en un seul clichd sont filmdes d 
 partir de I'angle sup6rieure gauche, de gaurhe d 
 droite et de haut an bas, en prenant le nombre 
 d'images ndcessaire. Le diagramme suivant 
 illustre la m^thode : 
 
 1 
 
 2 
 
 3 
 
 12 3 
 
 4 5 6 
 

 i'',;"^\* 
 
NUGyE CANORyE 
 
 
 •I 
 
 i< 
 
w 
 
f^- 
 
 m 
 
 I 
 
HHH 
 
 Gii»i< 
 
Nuga: Canorae 
 
 BY A. G. D. 
 
 1- 1 
 
 W \iii Vlt 
 
 it I «? 
 
 PORTLAND, MAINE 
 
 SMITH & SALE, 45 EXCHANGE STREET 
 
 MDCCCXCVII 
 
 
 ' in ■ 
 
 in 
 
n 
 
 R 
 
 PS 
 
 2501 
 
 £-^70f 
 
TO MISS EDYTHE NEH^M/tN 
 
 My Dear Edytbe : 
 
 Nugce Canorce is not a pretty 
 title for a book, and therefore not coiiipli- 
 mentary toj>ou. 
 
 Yon are, however, a lover of truth, and 
 it is absolutely true. 
 
 A. G. D. 
 
 Montreal, June i, i8gj. 
 
 I 
 
r' 
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 To Edythe .... 
 To THE Queen 
 
 To H. R. H. Prince Consort 
 Lancelot and Guinevere 
 The Rose and the Lily 
 Vita Nuova .... 
 Lines for the Unveiling of the Monu 
 ment to Sir J. A. Macdonald 
 
 Where Silence Lives . 
 
 A Dream of Youth 
 
 The Passing of Tennyson 
 
 To My Mother 
 
 A Welcome to Sir Wilfred Laurier 
 
 A Farewell 
 
 Crossing the Bar 
 
 To Ethelreda 
 
 Far Away, Far 
 
 The Lifeless Flower . 
 
 A Vision of the Night 
 
 Sing, O 1 Sing that Song again 
 
 I 
 
 PAGB 
 
 »3 
 IS 
 17 
 21 
 
 30 
 31 
 
 33 
 
 36 
 
 38 
 40 
 
 41 
 
 42 
 
 43 
 44 
 
 45 
 
 46 
 
 47 
 
 48 
 
 51 
 
 ^1 
 
 i !f 
 
 k^- i 
 
 li 
 
J 
 
 » n 
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 To Sir James M. LeMoine . 
 
 To Princess Mary of Teck 
 
 In Memoriam Prince Henry of 
 
 BERG .... 
 
 A Child's Prayer 
 
 To Miss Jane Newman 
 
 In Memoriam E. F. H. 
 
 Fancy and Imagination 
 
 To Hilda 
 
 Helen and Aphrodite 
 
 PAGE 
 
 52 
 S3 
 
 54 
 55 
 56 
 57 
 58 
 61 
 
 63 
 
54 
 55 
 5^^ 
 57 
 58 
 6 1 
 
 63 
 
 I 
 
 T 
 
 PREFACE 
 
 HE plate used in this volume is made from a draw- 
 ing hy (Mr. Taul Caron, to whom mj> thanks 
 are due, for the talent he has bestowed on 
 the subject. I am also indebted to 
 (Messrs. Smith & Sale for the 
 excellent manner in 
 which the book is 
 printed. 
 
 A. G. D. 
 
 Monlretl, 1897. 
 
T 
 
NUGi^ CANORi^ 
 
 i\ 
 

 i 
 
 N 
 Ir 
 
 N 
 
 N 
 E 
 
 B 
 A 
 V 
 
 r 
 
 "] 
 I 
 
 1 
 I 
 
 feK.i\lB3UKKI 
 
fO EDYTHE 
 
 4 
 
 AMIDST the world's tumultuous din, 
 The battle keen for rank and place, 
 Where might is right, and wealth may win 
 
 A crown, and even worth efface ; 
 Not here I'll seek, or find thy name 
 Inscribed upon the roll of fame. 
 
 Nor in the sun's voluptuous hour 
 
 When life is tinged with crimson glow ; 
 
 Where many a still most regal flower 
 Seems half abashed its face to show ; 
 
 Not here I'll seek, or find thy name 
 
 Entwined among those flowers of fame. 
 
 But when the rose with dew is wet, 
 And near God's throne the stars have met ; 
 When Luna crowned with mystic power 
 Draws sweetness from each hidden flower; • 
 'Tis then I'll think of Edythe's name 
 Inscribed upon the roll of fame. 
 
 And when among the leafy boughs 
 The nightingale's soft music rolls ; 
 
 When lovers' sweetly whispered vows. 
 Steal, as that music, o'er their souls ; 
 
 This is the hour when Edythe's name 
 
 Is woven with the flowers of fame. 
 
 In gentle, loving, household ways, 
 
 In walks of letters and of art, 
 Shalt thou, throughout thy range of days 
 
 Obtain the empire of the heart, 
 And weave thyself, around thy name 
 An auriole of sweetest fame. 
 
 
 XUl 
 
 fl^- 
 
T 
 
 re 
 
 ^ 
 
 "E 
 
 mm 
 
TO THE QUEEN'S MOST EXCELLENT 
 MAJESTY 
 
 JUNE 20th, 1897 
 
 NO monument which art may raise 
 Can speak to ages of Thy fame 
 Like these few words twined with Thy name, 
 " Enthroned upon Thy people's praise." 
 
 XV 
 
 ti 
 
 i 
 
 iii 
 
I 
 
i 
 
 TO THE MEMORY OF H. R. H. 
 7HE PRINCE CONSORT 
 
 ONCE more returns the sad December eve, 
 That in its train will tender memories leave 
 Of tears and sorrow — vanished loveliness 
 Long mourned in silence and in loneliness — 
 Of Love harmonious, and that deep scene 
 Which once encircled England's loyal Queen. 
 Yet o'er the mournful message of that day 
 Eternal Love hath shed His kindly ray, 
 And points beyond the purple sunset skies 
 To where a brighter prospect seems to rise. 
 
 il 
 
 II 
 
 What thongh the mortal image fades and dies 
 The deeds of virtue from the tomb arise ! 
 E'en though the splendour of the sun hath set 
 The lamp of memory fondly lingereth yet. 
 Twined with the laurels of enduring fame, 
 The deathless glory of a deathless name 
 Still gilds the cycles of the years which roll. 
 With lustre borrowed from the lofty soul : 
 For in eternal youth such souls remain 
 A smile from God, returned to God again. 
 
 Ill 
 
 These to his memory, consecrated, rest, 
 As blending all imperfectly with themes 
 On which in life he loved full oft to dwell. 
 
 xvtt 
 
TO H. R. H. PRINCE CONSORT 
 
 And since thro' him these old world tales now seem 
 
 Of more enduring worth since loved by him, 
 
 My fancy of the dying, blameless King, 
 
 Of brave Sir Launcelot and Guinevere 
 
 Shall, in all reverence and humility 
 
 Be henceforth with his memory intertwined. 
 
 For as the poet in his vision saw 
 In his great life a pure and faultless type 
 Of that true manhood which should sway the world ; 
 So now, when time hath proved the deeds of life, 
 His deeds remain his noblest monument. 
 And in this dawning year of Jubilee 
 When thought is turned to our beloved Queen, 
 The memory lingers on those brighter years 
 When His dear presence stood so near the throne. 
 For ever, graven on the nation's heart. 
 Unchanged by time, his lofty figure stands 
 Crowned by the age his life adorned, and crowned 
 By after ages as the Just, the Good. 
 
 December, 1896. 
 
 XVIU 
 
LANCELOT AND GUINEVERE 
 
 I 
 
 UJl 
 
 
 1 = 
 
 r-t- 
 
n 
 
 "SoTVL. — Lanfelot and Guhuvere forms 
 the first of a scries of tales founded on 
 the Idylls of the King, Mallory's Morte 
 D'Arthur &c., hereafter to be published 
 under the title of "The Knights of Old." 
 
LANCELOT AND GUINEVERE 
 
 THE bravest of the brave, Sir Lancelot, 
 The flower of Arthur's court at Camelut 
 I lad from the noise of arms withdrawn, 
 And in the calmness of seclusion sought 
 To calm the voice of Conscience, and redeem 
 liy deeds of alms, the deeds that flesh had wrought. 
 But ever in his ears the echoes rang 
 Of sad sweet music sung unceasingly 
 Like those weird tones, which float upon the breeze 
 As waves in surging turmoil lash the rocks, 
 And never ceasing, never change or tire. 
 And oft times from the past a voice arose 
 As of King Arthur speaking as of old 
 " Is all then well, is all so well with thee ? " 
 And in the deep set shades of Avignon 
 Sir Lancelot retired at close of eve 
 To commune with his soul ; and in a dream 
 Revolved the many scenes of Camelot. 
 Now first appeared before the weary Knight 
 The far-off-loveliness of Love's young dream, 
 The dawn of May, the fullness of the Spring 
 When Love and Spring, and Guinevere were one ; 
 For this was ere the breath of slander fell 
 And linked the fairest of the fair with those 
 Who flourish in the garden of this world 
 As doth the noxious weed, whose touch is death. 
 
 And on this morn of May, fair as the morn 
 The Queen arose, and decked herself with flowers. 
 While o'er the earth the joyous sun of May 
 Shone in the splendour of his kingly power. 
 So Guinevere from out her casement looked 
 
 it m.\ 
 
 XXI 
 
 1^ 
 
 ll'l 
 
LANCELOT AND GUINEVERE 
 
 I J! 
 
 If 
 
 On all the beauteous world beneath her feet; 
 Made beauteous by high God, for those who keep 
 Pure hearts, and undefiled, and free from ill : 
 E'en as those faithful souls whose prayers ascend 
 As clouds of incense to the great white throne. 
 And Guinevere, while musing on the scene 
 Bethought her of a noble, god-like Knight 
 The prince of Knights, so gentle, and so brave 
 And more of mortal than the blameless King. 
 For oft to her the brilliance of her lord 
 Seemed as the sun in heaven, too full of light 
 An unapproachable for those of earth ; 
 Yet lovely in his sphere, and fit to move 
 In orbit more ethereal, whence the suns 
 Of lower worlds may borrow radiance, warmth. 
 And life. So thought the Queen, and oft in dreams 
 Sir Lancelot was crowned in Arthur's stead. 
 And happy in this dangeroui love she moved 
 Through household ways, and quiet converse drew 
 Two souls of noble birth, and courtly grace 
 Together. And as yet their love was pure ; 
 Nor dreamed they then that ere another May 
 The sun would shine, and storms would sweep away 
 Their love, their trust, the noble Table Round 
 And all its glorious imagery, to dust. 
 
 And ever and anon the vision changed, 
 And from the midst of Camelot arose 
 A garden, fair as ever painter drew 
 Laved by the limpid waters of the lake. 
 Wherein there grew one flower, more white, more pure. 
 More fragrant than all Flora's sweetest flowers. 
 
 Then Lancelot in eagerness and love 
 Stretched forth his hand to pluck the faultless flower, 
 
 xxli 
 
 '^- .V )'^ 
 
LANCELOT AND GUINEVERE 
 
 I 
 
 When lo ! the blossom vanished and the Queen 
 
 Clothed in pure white, stood in its place, and said : 
 
 " Unto thy King, unto thyself, be true." 
 
 And speaking thus she passed among the flowers 
 
 And darkness followed and an aching void. 
 
 Again his fancy wove a pleasing chain 
 
 Of all the glory of the Table Round 
 
 And of the havoc wrought by sin until 
 
 Afar, " the noise of battle rolled," and he, 
 
 The champion of the tourney and the field, 
 
 Felt coursing through his veins like raging fire 
 
 The thrill of action and of victory; 
 
 Yet ere the conflict o'er, his thoughts would turn 
 
 To Guinevere, his love, his life, his prize. 
 
 Once more there followed calmer moods, and high 
 
 Above all care, and toil, and din of earth, 
 
 In spotless, uncreated grandeur loomed 
 
 The wondrous vision of the Holy Grail. 
 
 And near the blessed sign, three maidens fair 
 
 All clothed in white, beyond all knowing fair. 
 
 Stood as in silent adoration, while 
 
 Strains not of earth, rose sweetly round the Grail. 
 
 And in their hands they bore a victor's crown 
 
 Yet not of laurels, but composed of thorns. 
 
 And one, more beauteous than the twain, approached, 
 
 And as to softest music spake and said — 
 
 " Gird thou the heavenly armour for the quest 
 
 And leave behind the world and Guinevere." 
 
 Deep silence reigned ; and o'er his troubled soul 
 There softly stole, as steal the purple shades 
 Across the golden mantle of the sun, 
 A flood of rapturous light, so calm and still 
 That all the world seemed hushed at its sweet will 
 
 I J 
 
 XXlll 
 
LANCELOT AND GUINEVERE 
 
 m 
 
 V, 
 
 And paused, while God and man communion held. 
 
 Then strong in strength of nobler worlds the Knight 
 
 Behind him cast the thoiights of earth, and strove 
 
 To gain alone the crown of thorns, which seemed 
 
 Of more ermuring worth than gold, or those 
 
 Whi(,h in the tourney fall from ladies' hands. 
 
 And so there passed, in rapid order, all 
 
 The many scenes, in Arthur's court the while 
 
 Had made the sum of human life and love. 
 
 Then waking from his dream he pondered v.-el! 
 
 On those cad scenes with pleasure intertwined, 
 
 When human happiness, and human love 
 
 Such as few mortals know, was known to him. 
 
 For since that long remembered morn of May 
 
 He, as the queen, in exile and remorse 
 
 Had striven daily to redeem the past. 
 
 And as he pondered, once again a voice 
 
 That nought could silence, smote upon his ear ; 
 
 A plaintive voice, more subtle than the sound 
 
 Of mortal voice, or music's sweetest tone. 
 
 Which in its sadness, seemed to breathe the prayer 
 
 Of Guinevere, who turned to him in tears. 
 
 Then I^ancelot by mournful sadnesj moved 
 
 Sought out the solace of an ancient shrine. 
 
 In prayer to dwell upon the will of heaven. 
 
 And as he prayed before his mind arose 
 
 A picture of the dying, blameless King, 
 
 Slain by his own, who, faithless to their vows 
 
 Had, in the midst of virtue, sown but vice. 
 
 Lo! here, upon the face of Arthur, cold 
 
 As sculptured marble, in the sleep of Death, 
 
 He read, in grief, a gentle, mute reproach. 
 
 And as he gazed upon that Kingly form 
 
 \xiv 
 
 m 
 
 I^B^y^gBI^ 
 
LANCELOT AND GUINEVERE 
 
 ^W 
 
 That calmly in unruffled slumber slept, 
 
 The Knight bethought him of his own brief life 
 
 And of its contrast to that nobler one. 
 
 But even now his thoughts drew near to her 
 
 Who in the beauty of a perfect life 
 
 Had made the glory of the King's, 
 
 Until across her pathway he had come 
 
 And robbed her of her peace, her joy, her love. 
 
 Why leave her thus ? E'en in this sacred place 
 
 Dark midst the darkness of a dying faith 
 
 Her presence made all light, and lit again 
 
 The lamp of love, by which his faith could live. 
 
 Thus musing on her beauty and their love, — 
 
 The living bond of two bright souls — yet dead 
 
 Unto each other, severed by their choice. 
 
 As ill according with those laws which prove 
 
 So oft on earth man's glory and his bane, 
 
 He vowed once more to see her, and once more 
 
 To claim her as the brightest gift of heaven. 
 
 And strong in this resolve, he took to horse 
 
 And rode o'er mount and valley, till he came 
 
 Within the bounds of ancient Camelot. 
 
 The winding street, with many a gabled roof 
 Stood as in days of old, save on one side 
 A fortress rose fresh from the masons' hands, 
 And on the other side, in contrast sad 
 The ruined grandeur of King Arthur's court. 
 In silence through the one time noble arch 
 Sir Lancelot moved slowly, chilled with fear. 
 How changed the picture to the days of old, 
 When at his entry silver trumpets blared 
 And silken tokens waved from lily hands I 
 Now all was gloom, and desolation, deep. 
 
 i J 
 
 
 XXV 
 
LANCELOT AND GUINEVERE 
 
 Ik 
 
 And ruin, marred the pride of Arthur's court. 
 
 No more the stately walls and bastions stood 
 
 Erect, defying sword, or onward march 
 
 Of belted legion, or of heathen host. 
 
 Where once the flower of virtue reigned supreme 
 
 And Truth and Honour bound all loyal hearts 
 
 In bond of union to a godlike cause, 
 
 Now grew the noxious weeds where reptiles hide. 
 
 And round the lofty throne, whence Arthur's word 
 
 Fell on his Knights as law ; and brilliant wit 
 
 Flashed as a meteor 'cross the sky, arose 
 
 A silence far more eloquent than words. 
 
 And Lancelot drew nearer to the shrine 
 
 Where in the Virgin's honour he had knelt 
 
 And vowed to serve one only, him the King. 
 
 And still before the crumbling altar stood 
 
 The eastern wall, filled with its storied glass, 
 
 Through which, in purple and in crimson rays 
 
 Streamed down the golden light, which erstwhile fell 
 
 In softened splendour on the silent forms 
 
 Of saints, illumined by the hand Divine, 
 
 Who sleep in everlasting sanctity. 
 
 'Twas here he first beheld that perfect form. 
 
 That form, beyond all others, beautiful. 
 
 Here on this spot they made their sad farewell, 
 
 Farewell to brightest hopes, to love's brief dream. 
 
 Change, nought but change — yet each remembered scene 
 
 Robbed of its beauty seemed with him to mourn. 
 
 Thus passed the hours, when lo I before the porch 
 
 In time-worn garments stood the withered sage. 
 
 The ancient Merlin, stern, with visage wan. 
 
 With outstretched hands, in feeble, faltering tones 
 
 The old man spake, and thus addressed the Knight 
 
 XXVI 
 
LANCELOT AND GUINEVERE 
 
 Whom seek ye here ? Why pause to dwell 
 
 Where ruin reigns as lord! 
 Here Virtue wore the cloak of Hell 
 
 And Truth the demon's sword ! 
 
 Here on the bended knee men swore 
 
 In holiness to die, 
 And yonder by Caerleon's shore 
 
 They gave their vow the lie. 
 
 And I, alone, this altar tend. 
 
 And pray that soon the day 
 May come, when I my body lend 
 
 With it to pass away. 
 
 But tarry not within these crumbling walls 
 
 Where desolation triumphs; seek to gain 
 
 The noblest crown which decks the victor's brow 
 
 In strife more noble than the strife of arms. 
 
 Go, seek the Queen in yonder sanctuary 
 
 And heal thy soul, while yet 'tis called to-day. 
 
 Then Lancelot drew nearer to the sage 
 
 To speak with him concerning Guinevere 
 
 And somewhat learn of that which followed since 
 
 The days when he and Merlin walked the woods 
 
 Or tarried in the shades of Camelot ; 
 
 But ere the Knight his purpose could fulfil, 
 
 The sage had vanished and was seen no more. 
 
 In loneliness, the loneliness of grief 
 
 He viewed the fallen splendour of the court 
 
 And tears fell fast and faster as he felt 
 
 The glory which had been and was no more. 
 
 Then taking up his sword, in haste he left 
 
 XXVll 
 
 i.1 
 
^FTI 
 
 LANCELOT AND GUINEVERE 
 
 His VOW to keep and converse with the Queen. 
 
 Full many a league in silence rode the Knight 
 
 Until he reached the gate of Almsbury. 
 
 And there within the silent cloister walked 
 
 With drooping head, the Queen of Camelot. 
 
 Too full the measure of his love for words 
 
 As he beheld that one time faultless form 
 
 More lovely in the light of heavenly love. 
 
 Now voiceless all the passion which once swayed 
 
 In boundless tumult through his mighty frame. 
 
 Now all was changed, and in its place a calm ; 
 
 A calm and peace which moved through tears and pain 
 
 To deeper love, and wrought into his soul 
 
 The one desire, to live with her in heaven. 
 
 Yet as the Queen with saddened, upturned face 
 
 Looked on the Knight with her most beauteous smile 
 
 The love of old returned once more, and he 
 
 So strong and brave, felt as a little child. 
 
 Then in a faltering voice he told the Queen 
 
 Of his deep sorrow, and his deeper love 
 
 And bade her turn again with him and live 
 
 Together as one life to part no more. 
 
 Then Guinevere, as sweetly as of yore, 
 
 Dade him once more to leave her to that peace 
 
 By prayer and fasting she might one day gain. 
 
 For through thy love, said she, ' I am undone. 
 
 Yet think not that thy love I do despise, 
 
 But rather pray for me that through thy love 
 
 I purify myself to higher love. 
 
 Perchance, hereafter, when the time shall come 
 
 When love is undivided and we share 
 
 In all its fulness and undying love. 
 
 Thy soul may mate with mine, and I shall know 
 
 xxviu 
 
 ^^^ 
 
 *i,v 
 
IT 
 
 LANCELOT AND GUINEVERE 
 
 As now I know not, love's deep mystery. 
 
 Now turn again to thine own land and wed 
 
 Some maiden whom thou mayest, for I wed not 
 
 Except the sorrow of thy love and mine.' 
 
 And Lancelot in reverence bowed and said 
 
 If by God's grace thou hast so vowed to live 
 
 Apart from all the world in sanctity, 
 
 Then here before God's altar, I declare 
 
 That I, henceforth, will give myself to prayer. 
 
 Farewell, sweet rose of womanhood, Farewell ! 
 
 Farewell beloved dream, my long lost love. 
 
 No more I see thy face on earth, farewell. 
 
 And parting with these words he left the Queen 
 
 And as a hermit lived for six brief moons. 
 
 Till prayer and fasting turned his soul to God. 
 
 Then taking on the habit of a priest 
 
 In loneliness he lived near Almsbury. 
 
 And when at length the fair Queen left this world 
 
 To share eternal, and a long sought peace 
 
 The Knight, whom once on earth she dearly loved 
 
 Sang o'er her tomb the Requiem of the Dead. 
 
 M 
 
 XXIX 
 
THE ROSE yfND THE LILY 
 
 i 
 
 
 
 ^r 
 
 Written for music 
 
 THE Rose to the Lily proudly said 
 '* You are pale, my dear," then tossed her head; 
 " Now if you had more of crimson hue, 
 *Tis plain more lovers would come to sue; 
 For lovers — they always love to see 
 A maiden blush as you now see me ; 
 While you, as a maiden all forlorn, 
 Stand icy and cold this sunny mom. 
 And the sun smiles fondly, for he knows 
 He is sure of welcome from the Rose." 
 
 The Lily, so lowly, bowed her head 
 
 To the Rose, and then all sweetly said, 
 
 " One lover I have who loves me well ; 
 
 We meet alone when the vesper bell, 
 
 With its silver tongue, has lulled to sleep 
 
 The birds and flow'rs; and silence deep 
 
 Steals o'er the earth : and fragrance rare 
 
 From the tender blossoms fills the air. 
 
 'Tis then, in the lovely moonlight pale, 
 
 I hear the notes of my nightingale. 
 
 And we dream of love, while all is still 
 
 Save only the murm'ring crystal rill. 
 
 A maiden I am, and long to be 
 
 All clothed with a garb of purity ; 
 
 While the moon and the stars both smile on me 
 
 As my lover sings on yonder tree ; 
 
 And I blush not with a crimson glow, 
 
 Lest his liquid music cease to flow." 
 
 The Rose blushed with a deeper red. 
 And haughtily tossed her saucy head ; 
 But the Lily stately stood, and smiled 
 On the Rose, as on some angry child. 
 
 xxz 
 
 ■ \- 
 
yiTA NUOVA 
 
 ^npis o'er: the dreary night of restless sleep, 
 
 1 Dark with its phantoms, clouded by despair, 
 Is past ; and Spring, the gentle messenger 
 Of hopes undying, and of joys sublime. 
 With all her pent-up treasures, wakes again, 
 And smiles on one whose wearied eyes 
 Well-nigh had closed forever to the light. 
 O beauteous land I O soul-enchanting earth I 
 Melodious with the hum of mortal life : 
 O stately hills I O lowly vales I that wear 
 The lovely garments of the opening spring; 
 IIow sweet the music of your voice, that bids 
 Me rise again, and free myself from bonds 
 That bind my soul in fetters to the flesh 1 
 For lo I the winter of my grief is o'er, 
 And I, exuberant in the joys of health. 
 Once more, with budding spring, return to life ; 
 Once more I mingle in the strain of prsdse 
 That from a thousand lips ascends the throne 
 Of that great Power Beneficent who holds 
 The key of human life, its joys its woes, 
 And into one eternal strain attunes 
 The discord of our ever-varying life. 
 The past is o'er: yet would I of the past 
 One strain divine would mingle with my lot. 
 To raise the haunted darkness from the mind. 
 And paint a living memory in those hues. 
 Companions of the air of vernal mom. 
 But Love is dead : why seek again to raise. 
 On ruined altars, idols of the past 1 
 
 XXXI 
 
I 
 
 If ! 
 
 VITA NUOVA 
 
 Or vainly strive with mortal breath to fan 
 Its whitened ashes into Love's white flame! 
 But rather, listen to the lyre of life, 
 Attuned afresh to kinder themes than Love, 
 That moves in stately cadence to the pulse 
 And throb of everything that lives and breathes, 
 Resolving all of mortal dissonance. 
 Of mortal sorrow, love, of mortal woe, 
 "To one eternal and most lovely strain" — 
 The sum of human suff'ring, and of Love. 
 
 xxxu 
 
 h\ 
 
SIR JOHN A. M/tCDOhlALD 
 
 Lints written for the unveiling of the monument to 
 the late the Right Hon. Sir John A. Macdonald, 
 G. C. B., P. C. 
 
 " Stat sua cuique dies ; breve et irreparabile tempus 
 Omnibus est vitae, sed famam extendere factis 
 Hoc virtutis opus." — Virgil. 
 
 BRIEF are our days ; the heritage of man 
 To toil and suffer, measures but a span 1 
 Ihe golden glory of the noontide hour, 
 So full of splendour and so rich in power. 
 Soon passes downward to the deeper shade. 
 Where all its radiant beams in twilight fade, 
 And issuing Night, upon her sombre way, 
 Veils all the vanished beauty of the day. 
 
 So with man's life ; for one brief hour the crown 
 In lustre glistens, circled with renown ; 
 Then Death's grim spectre dims the glorious noon. 
 And leaves a void and darkness, all too soon I 
 
 But to the living still remains a debt ; 
 
 In loving rev'rence and with Love's regret. 
 
 To keep the memory by such deeds of praise 
 
 In honour nurtured through the range of days. 
 
 Lo I here, the shadow of a powerful name 
 
 Linked to the glory of undying Fame I 
 
 Lol here, the monument of Love's regret — 
 
 Of sympathy with him whose sun has set ! 
 
 In Britain's Isle, 'mid England's sons, the best, 
 
 Her noblest, who in sculptured marble rest. 
 
 xxxm 
 
F^ 
 
 SIR JOHN A. MACDONALD 
 
 He holds a place. And you upon this ground 
 Now decked with flowers, but once with greensward 
 
 crowned 
 And tablet, sacred to the cherished dead. 
 Unveil this Tribute with uncovered head, 
 As witness of a grateful nation's grief 
 And loving memory of a peerless Chief. 
 
 'Tis but the outward form, seen with the eyes 
 Of blind mortality, which fades and dies. 
 The genius and the hidden force which swayed 
 In Council and in Senate undismayed, 
 These graven are upon his country's heart. 
 And of her destiny are now a part. 
 
 No path of roses trod the dauntless Chief. 
 His labour constant and his leisure brief; 
 His country's honour and his country's good 
 Were dear to him, and strong as ties of blood. 
 Such was the Statesman whom we all deplore, 
 Such was the Leader whose grand life is o'erl 
 Here, 'neath the banner which he loved to wave, 
 Which tracked his glory even to the grave, 
 Behold the champion of a noble cause 
 Now silent in the calm of Nature's pause. 
 
 No more the music of his eloquence 
 Will voice the words of ripe intelligence; 
 Though still the essence of the master mind 
 Unites the common interest of mankind, 
 Aloft to bear the standard of our race, 
 And foremost in the great Olympus place 
 This land of ours. Thus from his life shall spring 
 Much of the glory which the years will bring. 
 
 xxxiv 
 
KVV 
 
 SIR JOHN A. MACDONALD 
 
 His name and Canada's fair name entwined 
 Here in this mute memorial are enshrined! 
 What fitter monument could Love demand 
 To him, the kingliest Leader of our land! 
 
 NoTB— The monument to Sir John A Macdonald 
 on Dominion Square. Montreal, wat unveiled by Hit 
 Excellency the Earl of Aberdeen, on June 6, 1895. 
 
 XXXV 
 
 li- 
 
 111 
 
IVHERE SILENCE LiyES^ 
 
 i STOOD beside the everlasting hills, 
 Bathed ir the silver of the midnight moon, 
 And mused of life, its many mysteries. 
 Its triumphs, failings, and its final aim. 
 And as I watched the summit of a lofty peak. 
 Crowned with a crown, so white a god might wear, 
 I saw a cloud in playful humor kiss 
 Its brow inviolate, then vanish — where? 
 And soon a larger cloud, more lovely still, 
 Enveloped in its flowing-fleecy folds 
 The frozen throne where slumb'rous Silence lives. 
 Therefrom, perchance, the word unspoken oft 
 On Anjjels' wings hath wandered, winnowing 
 The souls of men, white for the sheaf of Death — 
 The dark-robed messenger of mournful s. 
 Then all was still, as through the silence stole 
 The last faint vestige of that foam-like cloud. 
 Where now the gathered glory from that throne ? 
 All vanquished, vanished into vapourous night I 
 Alone, in lonely grandeur, cold and white, 
 The mountain stood, watched over by the moon, 
 So calm and pale, methought all life had ceased. 
 And God looked on the world ..hich he had made. 
 
 
 Thus fancy followed fancy, and I mused; 
 How oft in varied walks of art, man's life 
 Doth soar to god-like heights, and dwell with God, 
 A season, lingering lovingly in light, 
 
 ■t 
 
 I From the Canadian Magazine. 
 
 XXXVl 
 
WHERE SILENCE LIVES 
 
 To mirror for a moment here on earth 
 The image of the life Immaculate: — 
 A moment, then a moment's memory. 
 
 And all the beauty which within the soul 
 Lies slumbering, waiting for the breath Divine 
 To blossom forth in fragrant flowers and fill 
 With sweetest incense, life's deep loneliness ! 
 Shall this then wake from death-in-life to light, 
 And kiss the feet of God, but to resolve 
 In shadow and a moment's memory I 
 Nay : all the beauty which hath been, shall be, 
 And greater, when hereafter, God and man, 
 And man as God, in ceaseless harmony, 
 Upon the summit of the mount shall dwell. 
 Then Time, and Place, and Life's great mystery, 
 Dissolving as the clouds, shall pass and leave 
 The throne of God inviolate; while man. 
 Part of the beauty which hath been, shall be 
 The glory of that throne perpetually. 
 
 XXXVII 
 
 M 
 
 iii 
 
r 
 
 > I 
 
 i^.i 
 
 A DREAM OF YOUTH 
 
 SPRING in the leaf-time listens 
 For song of youth and maid, 
 To call forth into splendour 
 The primrose scented glade — 
 
 To fill with sweetest incense 
 
 The censer of the morn, 
 While melody unbroken 
 
 In songs of love is bom. 
 
 For spring herself rejoices 
 When all true lovers meet, 
 
 And scatters in her bounty 
 The flowers beneath their feet. 
 
 Light hearts and beaming faces, 
 Love songs and tender sighs. 
 
 These are the spring's true pleasures, 
 The sunlight of her eyes. 
 
 By margin of still waters, 
 By brook or babbling stream, 
 
 She listens for the laughter 
 Of love's delicious dream ; 
 
 And when in tender sadness. 
 Beneath the moonlight pale, 
 
 The lovers list to music 
 Of some sweet nightingale. 
 
 TH 
 Tl 
 F( 
 
 Bi 
 T 
 
 A 
 T 
 
 xxxviu 
 
THE DREAM OF YOUTH 
 
 Then spring withdraws in silence 
 The silver lamps of night, 
 
 For love heeds not the darkness, 
 Itself the source of light. 
 
 But soon the springtime passes. 
 And on the youngest tree. 
 
 The golden tints of Autumn 
 Will linger lovingly; 
 
 And soon both youth and maiden 
 Must learn the bitter truth 
 
 That love, not life, may flourish 
 Fresh in eternal youth. 
 
 m 
 
 * 
 
 XXXIX 
 
• 'I 
 
 THE PASSING OF TENNYSON 
 
 (OCTOBER, 1892.) 
 
 THE moon in her own dying glory fades, 
 And from thy casement half withdraws her light; 
 The leaves of autumn, touched with golden hue, 
 Are softly sighing in the solemn night; 
 Whilst thou, the glorious minstrel of our time, 
 Whose harp, ^olian toned, awoke such strains 
 As swell the choral anthems of the heavens, 
 Art calmly waiting in the moonlight pale 
 For dawn of golden sunlight that precedes 
 Thine entry to undying harmony. 
 
 Farewell ! beloved voice that sang of Truth, 
 In clearest tones, to ever noble themes; 
 That mingled with the earthly song a strain 
 Of that immortal beauty which belongs, 
 Not to this earth, but an unfading land. 
 Farewell ! thy voice still lives, its echo lasts, 
 To swell the glory of undying fame. 
 
 » 1 
 
 xl 
 
 ^K» 
 
TO THE MEMORY OF MY MOTHER 
 
 OBllT DECEMBER VI MDCCCXC^l 
 " Beati mortui qui in Domino moriuntur." 
 
 THE night is dark, and 'neath her raven wings 
 Thy form is folded in eternal sleep! 
 How dark the night of death, so cold and chill 
 And frozen fast the fountain of my tears. 
 I cannot hear thee speak ! and sorrow seals 
 The lips that now would form themselves in prayer : 
 Perchance 'tis well, for no discordant voice 
 Should pierce the silence of thy blessed sleep. 
 Yes, all is well, and I must watch and wait 
 Until above the chant of Death I hear 
 Immortal music melting in mine ears. 
 
 The echo of a voice so long-time still. 
 
 Then shall I feel that love whose folds can fill, 
 A grave with glory, and a heart with tears. 
 
 January 2, 1S97. 
 
 1* 
 
 xli 
 
A WELCOME 
 
 Hi 
 
 
 TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE SIR WILFRED LAURIER 
 G. C. M. G. PREMIER OF CANADA 
 
 Oh bis return from the celebration of Her Majesty's Jubilee 
 in England 
 
 THRICE-WELCOME to thy native land 
 Of stately pines and maple-leaf I 
 Thrice-welcome, honoured, loyal Chief, 
 Thrice-welcome to thy native land. 
 
 While England's banner waves above. 
 The sons of France and England raise. 
 The voice of song to swell thy praise 
 
 As Leader of the land they love ; 
 
 And loyal pines, beside which grow 
 The rose and lily as one flower, 
 Their tribute make this joyous hour 
 
 In murmuring music, soft and low. 
 
 Thrice-welcome to thy native land 
 Of stately pines and maple-leaf : 
 Thrice-welcome, honoured, loyal Chief, 
 
 I'hrice-welcome to thy native land. 
 
 xlU 
 
A FAREWELL 
 
 BEFORE the Virgin's altar shrine 
 Laden with flowers of purity ; 
 Meet offering to the maid divine, 
 I knelt at noon, and thought of thee. 
 
 The tender blossoms filled the air 
 With fragrance sweet as sanctity. 
 
 And even mingled with the prayer. 
 And silence of my love for thee. 
 
 And with those flowers thy name 111 twine. 
 Henceforth, through years of loneliness, 
 
 For still this sad lost soul of mine 
 Can dream of perfect loveliness. 
 
 Farewell! farewell! but for a day 
 
 I will forget thee never. 
 And though on tide of time I stray, 
 
 Forget me not for ever. 
 
 Farewell, farewell, for evermore 
 
 For ever and for ever ! 
 Farewell I I see thy face no more 
 
 For ever, and for ever. 
 
 I: 
 
 I 
 
 :» 
 
 xliii 
 
 ii 
 
 i^i 
 
 Inf- 
 ill 
 
 ijSoS 
 
CROSSING THE BAR 
 
 IN IMITATfON OF TENNYSON 
 
 I 
 
 I 
 
 I n 
 
 III 
 
 SUNSET of golden hue! 
 The signal is for me ! 
 No gathering cloud, nor storm in view 
 As I approach the sea. 
 
 Then on the ocean's calm, unruffled tide, 
 
 My fragile bark may roam. 
 For faithful on all seas hath been the guide, 
 
 Who now steers home. 
 
 Twilight, and silvery belli 
 
 Soon come the deeper shades ! 
 Oh may no tear drop mingle in farewell 
 
 As my bark fades ! 
 
 For though I oft have drifted in life's race 
 
 Far from my home, afar, 
 I know my pilot's loving face 
 
 Is watching 'cross the Bar. 
 
 Li 
 
 xliv 
 
 tf 
 
TO ETHELREDA 
 
 WINDS are with the willows weeping, 
 Love lies low I 
 Snow-drops in their grief are peeping 
 Through the snow 1 
 
 Mournful music from my lyre I 
 
 Darkness and gloom I 
 Vanished all its sacred fire, 
 
 In yonder tomb 1 
 
 Cold upon her virgin forehead 
 
 Sleeps the long, last loving kiss. 
 
 Cold, beside the love there buried 
 
 Sleeps a dream of earthly bliss. 
 
 Sun, moon, and stars above, 
 
 Weep while I weep I 
 Lilies, alone, in love 
 
 With her, may sleep. 
 
 Frozen kisses, snow flakes falling 
 
 Melt in tears of pain I 
 From the heavens white souls are calling 
 
 Hers to life again. 
 
 Low lies her lovely head I 
 
 Sleep, maiden, sleep I 
 Death trembles, and the dead 
 
 Leave her in sleep. 
 
 Lf 
 
 xlv 
 
Fy4R AiyAY, FAR 
 
 l# 
 
 f 
 
 Far off, in loneliness, far away, far. 
 Gleams in the heavens a glorious star. 
 In the purple of God, when the moonlight is low, 
 And the breath of the flowers fills the silence below; 
 Through the mist and the music of sorrow and pain 
 Comes the infinite sweetness of loving again 
 
 As I see midst the clouds, though far away far, 
 The face of my love as a gentle star. 
 
 m\ 
 
 if . ) 
 
 11. . ( 
 
 xlvi 
 
THE LIFELESS FLOIVER 
 
 THE fragrance from the flower is flown, 
 No more its sweetness breathes of thee I 
 The little life it lived, is gone : 
 
 It lived and died, and but for thee. 
 
 A fragile, lifeless, vacant flower, 
 
 It sleeps forgotten and forlorn 
 Its colour faded, and its power 
 
 To please, for evermore is shorn. 
 
 Yet it shall in remembrance live 
 The dearest treasure of my heart ; 
 
 Thy memory life to it shall give 
 Which only death itself can part. 
 
 Mute emblem of a deeper love 
 
 Which slumbering lies within my breast, 
 I'll tend it, even as that love. 
 
 For it was once by love caressed. 
 
 "i 
 
 
 xlvii 
 
j4 yiSlON OF THE NIGHT^ 
 
 IN the silent hours of slumber, 
 Walk the is about my bed, 
 
 Weaving fancl the living 
 With the memories of the dead. 
 
 Quickly, with the moments fleeting, 
 Pleasures vanish one by one ; 
 
 Deeper grows my desolation — 
 Soon the setting of the sun. 
 
 From the bosom of deep waters, 
 Touched with glories of the moon, 
 
 Voices seem forever sighing, 
 " Life itself will vanish soon." 
 
 Dimly dawn, bcond the shadows, 
 Visions of ' Id to come — 
 
 Love, enthro' golden pinions. 
 
 Crowning an iiiysium. 
 
 In the unveiled perfect beauty 
 Of great Nature's noblest mould. 
 
 Youth and maiden — Love's creation — 
 Dream the dreams the gods unfold. 
 
 Venus for Adonis weeping. 
 
 Feels Love's pleasures and its pains, 
 In exulting gifts of nature 
 
 Coursing through her youthful veins. 
 
 I From the Canadian Magazine. 
 
 xlviii 
 
i 
 
 A VISION OF THE NIGHT 
 
 Twining rose, or blending lily, 
 Cupid's children round her play, 
 
 Wreathed in garland groups of gladness, 
 Whirling their sweet lives away, 
 
 To the rhythm of some movement, 
 Not of earth — some magic strain — 
 
 Surely these are souls immortal? 
 Not the phantoms of the brain I 
 
 Thus I muse, and for an answer. 
 Comes the weird and sad refrain, 
 
 «' Slowly, slowly, pleasures vanish 
 Never to return again." 
 
 Then upon the angry billows, 
 
 Lol a fragile bark appears 
 Riding in majestic silence: 
 
 To my feet the helmsman steers. 
 
 Save the sadness of the ocean 
 All is still, and cold, and dark, 
 
 As upon an unknown voyage, 
 I, in loneliness, embark. 
 
 Death's dark angel grimly smiling, 
 Tells me of a wondrous shore : 
 
 Doom, its radiant glories mingles, 
 With the days that are no more. 
 
 Fast the scenes of earth are fading ; 
 
 All my soul is sunk in fear ; 
 Wild, fantastic shapes, and visions ; 
 
 Gruesome figures hover near. 
 
 i 
 
 xlix 
 
A VISION OF THE NIGHT 
 
 In my woe and desperation, 
 
 Of the pilot I implore 
 " Mystic being, in thy mercy. 
 
 Whither drift we ? To what shore ? " 
 
 But no answer, only silence — 
 Gathering strength to make reply: 
 
 Then, a crashing peal of thunder 
 Rends the purple vault on high. 
 
 Through the lurid lightning's pathway 
 Brightly gleams the distant plain. 
 
 Where in virgin charms reposing. 
 Maidens chant the sad refrain. 
 
 " Slowly, slowly, pleasures vanish, 
 
 Never to return again ; 
 Slowly, slowly, life is ebbing. 
 
 Mortal tears and hopes are vain." 
 
 Deeper grows my desolation ; 
 
 Still I vow the shore to gain. 
 But a shaft, from Jove descending. 
 
 Cleaves my fragile bark in twain. 
 
 
• 
 
 SING, oh I sing that song again, 
 Tinged with pleasure, and with pain. 
 Let those perfect lips of thine 
 Music make of themes divine. 
 Sing, but softly sweet and low, 
 Zd-q IMV ffhs iyairw. 
 
 In the sparkle of thine eyes 
 Bums that fire which never dies. 
 Tell me if thy heart can share 
 In the love for thee I bear; 
 Love me not ; yet even so 
 Zd)r] iMV a-ds dyairu. 
 
 By the heaving of thy breast 
 I may read thy soul's unrest. 
 Let me on thy bosom lie 
 1 here I would most gladly die, 
 For in dying thou would'st know 
 Zi6rj /xoO ffki dyairQ, 
 
 In those pure white arms entwined 
 By thy virgin love enshrined 
 Seal upon my brow one kiss, 
 I would give my soul for this. 
 Tell me yes, or tell me no. 
 Zdr} (Mv ffis d7a7r«. 
 
 In my dreams I hear a song, 
 I have listened for so long 
 Sung by those sweet lips of thine, 
 Yielding all thy soul to mine — 
 Sing, but softly, sweet and low 
 Zw^ IMV ffAs dyairQ. 
 
 >V «• 
 
 '1^ 
 
 li 
 
i 
 
 TO SIR JAMES MACPHERSON LP MOINE 
 F. R. S. C. 
 
 HISTORIAN OF QUEBEC 
 
 My dear Sir James : 
 
 Since no song of mine could add 
 lustre to your tirae-honoured name, accept my 
 version of three lines from a time-honoured poet, 
 whose tender pathos and modern spirit dwell in 
 the life of more than two thousand years ago. 
 
 A. G. D. 
 
 ■ 
 
 iaO'Kwv yepiaOai, Kairl iJi€il;ov ^pxerai 
 rrjs eiyevelai 6vofm roiaiv Allots.' 
 
 Euripides Hec. 379, 
 
 Clear and defined the injpress of the die 
 Which noble birth confers, yet stronger still 
 When virtue aids to perfect Nature's work. 
 
 n 
 
 lii 
 
m 
 
 TO PRINCESS VICTORU MARY OF TECK 
 
 {JULY 6, 1893.) 
 
 <<T^ 
 
 HE bridal garland falls upon the bier," 
 So sang the plaintive voice of England's bard 
 E'er yet he passed to that pure light 
 Where vanish all the shadows cast by Death. 
 
 Princess, for you that garland blooms again, 
 
 And falling on a brother's love, in one 
 
 Shall bind the loves of lost and living love. 
 
 And on this mom, when joyous marriage bell 
 
 Makes tuneful music over hill and dale, 
 
 Its echo rolls along th' eternal shore 
 
 Where, happy in the love he bare to you, 
 
 His soul, in finer light, now shares with him, 
 
 His brother, in the mystic bond of love ; 
 
 Until, hereafter, when the Sun of Love 
 
 Shall wreathe in gariands fairer flowers than earth's, 
 
 The soul of brother, husband, and of wife. 
 
 Shall dwell as one, where no discordance reigns. 
 
 And love, in an Eternal Harmony. 
 
 lUi 
 
TO THE MEMORY OF TRINCE HENRY 
 OF TiATTENBERG 
 
 SLEEP noble soul! while coldly on thy brow 
 The dark-robed angel seals thy latest vow, 
 To fight for England, and her foes defy. 
 To live for England, or for her to die. 
 Sleep I faithful soul, the victor's course is run, 
 By thy resolve the laurel wreath is won. 
 *Tis hearts like thine which vanquished foes have met; 
 'Tis hearts like thine which bounds to Empire set. 
 Sleep I for the memory of thy vow shall be 
 Thy glory and thy crown, perpetually. 
 
 March, 1896. 
 
 liv 
 
 U- 
 
 »___, 
 
Iv 
 
 iiiH 
 
 i! 
 
 t; 
 
 A CHILD'S TRAYER 
 To M. "B. H. 
 
 AVE Maria! Hear my prayer. 
 O teach me how thy love to share, 
 For since my lips could lisp thy name, 
 My heart has yearned ;hy love to claim. 
 
f 
 
 TO MISS JANE NEWMAN 
 
 IT is the hour when Nature sleeps; 
 That interval of nameless peace, 
 When sounds of mortal voices cease 
 And Love, alone, his vigil keeps. 
 
 Then from the shadows, where the Hours 
 And Dreams hold converse with the Night, 
 A vestal virgin, clothed in white. 
 
 Arises from the fragrant flowers. 
 
 And one soft voice falls on the ear, 
 
 In music of forgotten themes. 
 
 Which haunt the soul as heavenly dreams 
 And force the sad, half joyous tear; 
 
 Like an .^olian harp which sings 
 
 Its sweet nocturnal melody. 
 
 As restless winds, unceasingly. 
 Recall to life its quivering strings. 
 
 A voice which soothes life's deepest pain. 
 Which calms the anguish of the breast. 
 And lulls the weary soul to rest 
 
 And faith in dreams of love, again. 
 
 And thine the virgin face I see : 
 
 To thee those heaven-born gifts belong, 
 O sing again some tender song. 
 
 And bring my youth once more to me ! 
 
 ( 
 
 G 
 V 
 
 \ 
 
 Ivi 
 
V 
 
 IN MEMORIAM E. F. H. 
 
 OALL eternal Wisdom, from whom flows 
 The secret fountain of all human love, 
 Grant that the golden link of friendship pure, 
 Which bound two souls on this bright earth as one, 
 May be the foretaste of a holier bond 
 Where all are pure, and love is understood. 
 
 
 Ivii 
 
 i^l 
 
 I i 
 
F/tNCY AND IM /I GIN AT ION 
 
 OUR Fancy roams with earth's revolving scenes 
 And gathers solace from the things of time, 
 E'en as the bee draws from the passing flower 
 Its sweetness, moving on from bloom to bloom. 
 But fond Imagination finds no rest, 
 A pilgrim, lost awhile upon this earth. 
 Yet ever striving through the things of time 
 To reach her native land, her home in heaven 
 
 Iviii 
 
 MMiii 
 
HELEN AND APHRODITE 
 
 ^ 
 
 U' 
 
 '! 
 
 W 
 
HttHBHUi 
 
 ■H 
 
TO HILDA LANGTON 
 
 'Born Sept. lo, 1868 
 •Died Sept. 10, i8j8 
 
 Tliy memory with this verse shall be entwined 
 That he who on its lines may chance to gaze 
 First Hilda's name shall there behold enshrined. 
 
 II - 
 
 |i 
 
 •1 i 
 
 ty 
 
THRICE happy were those tender years of thine, 
 So full of promise in a gracious spring, 
 That even now there gathers round thy shrine 
 The image of what future years would bring. 
 For thine was beauty hourly ripening 
 On this dull earth for some more lovely sky. 
 
 dream beyond fond love's imagining 
 
 1 weep not, for thy soul may never die 
 
 Though in the silent grave thy perfect form must lie I 
 
 .li 
 
HELEN AND APHRODITE 
 
 1 
 
 k 
 
 THREE suns had set since that momentous hour 
 When Paris roamed the slopes of Ida's mount, 
 And seeking shelter from the noonday heat, 
 Had sunk to slumber in a sylvan bower. 
 Here Aphrodite and Athene met, 
 With Hera, lovely in her rainbow hues. 
 And each had bared her pure white limbs, each charm 
 From golden head, and snow-white breasts, to where 
 Her feet, like ivory, nestled in the ferns. 
 And Paris, waking from his blissful dreams 
 Drank in the beauty of those maidens three 
 Till every pulse was quickened, and his frame 
 Was thrilled with passion, all unknown before. 
 Then Aphrodite softly spoke, and said ; 
 " Since by the wisdom of the gods' decree 
 To you 'tis given to crown with beauty's crown 
 The fairest goddess of the present three; 
 Now give the prize to me, and for thy bride 
 Shalt be the fairest maid this world doth know." 
 Then Hera in voluptuous beauty posed 
 Before the youth, and spake in liquid tones, 
 " The fruit of discord by the goddess thrown 
 To me as Queen among the queens, belongs ; 
 Place in my hands the golden fruit, and thou, 
 A kingdom, and its wealth, shalt own, and sway;" 
 
 Next came Athene, in her strength divine. 
 Whose arm the thunders from the heavens can hurl ; 
 Whose ear to gentle love inclines ; who weaves 
 The arts of warfare in the weft of peace. 
 
 ■ I 
 
 IxiU 
 
HELEN AND APHRODITE 
 
 si 
 
 f'U 
 
 In stately grandeur, conscious of the flame 
 
 Immortal beauty in a mortal wakes 
 
 She plied her subtle arts, while silence fanned 
 
 The heat of passion surging through his veins. 
 
 Then in soft tones, sweet in each whispered word 
 
 She claimed his gift, and thus addressed the youth : 
 
 •' Behold, in me alone, the mystic power, 
 
 To crown with triumph feais of arms in war; 
 
 Give me the prize, and I will bind for thee 
 
 The laurel wreath which decks the victor's brow." 
 
 But Paris, mindful of the task imposed, 
 
 Withdrew in silence, for within his breast 
 
 The tumult of his passions waged fierce war. 
 
 And Aphrodite, as in sadness stood. 
 
 With tear stained face, more eloquent than words 
 
 And smiling through her tears looked on the youth, 
 
 Who rose, and called her to his side, and said — 
 
 "To you, the Queen of Love, whom I embrace 
 
 The golden fruit is given. For evermore 
 
 The crown of beauty crowns the brow of love." 
 
 So Paris filled with ecstacy divine 
 
 With Aphrodite wandered through the woods 
 
 As in a dream, lost to all thought, but love. 
 
 The moon had vanished, and a single star 
 In loneliness watched in the vault of heaven 
 (For love needs not the light of sun or moon 
 Too full the measure of its depth for light) 
 When Paris, mindful of the promise made 
 By Aphrodite, yet three suns gone by. 
 Arose, and crossed to Lacedaemon's shore. 
 Where Helen, worshipped as a queen, abode 
 With Menelaus and Hermione. 
 
 IP 
 
 Ixiv 
 
 BHHHi 
 
 DBMS 
 
T 
 
 HELEN AND APHRODITE 
 
 And Menelaus called for goodly wine 
 
 To welcome Paris, and their mirth ran high 
 
 Till echo answered echo through the halls. 
 
 And long they tarried o'er the flowing cup 
 
 While flaming braziers lit the festive board. 
 
 Then as the shades of night crept on apace 
 
 The maidens strewed the beds with purple o'er 
 
 And Paris and the King fell in deep sleep. 
 
 But not so Helen ; long the hours wore on 
 
 Nor sleep o'ertook her, till the rosy dawn 
 
 Was watching to unloose the gates of day. 
 
 Then a great wonder midst the orbs was seen, 
 
 And Hesper-Phosphor, sweetest star of heaven 
 
 Which lingers o'er the setting sun, and sees 
 
 His rise to glory with the dawn of day. 
 
 Turned pale ; for midst a gorgeous burst of flame 
 
 The Queen of Love appeared, with myrtle crowned. 
 
 And lo I her swan-drawn chariot flashed and gleamed 
 
 Along the pathway of the starry sky 
 
 And paused, where Laceda;mon's palace rose. 
 
 And Helen, trembling at the glowing light 
 
 From off her couch arose, for well knew she 
 
 That radiance other than of mortal birth. 
 
 Then Aphrodite, lovely, but with soul 
 
 As cold as marble, save to touch of love 
 
 Stood on a fleecy cloud, poised in mid-air, 
 
 Bewildering soul and sense, even desire. 
 
 Well might a mortal dream to die were bliss 
 
 If dying he might her but once embrace ! 
 
 Silently, smiling with that smile which sits 
 
 Upon her lovely lips, and lingers ihere, 
 
 She gazed on Helen, who with downcast eyes 
 
 Besought the queen, her life, her love, to spare. 
 
 I 
 
 
 
 Ixv 
 
HELEN AND APHRODITE 
 
 i 
 
 But still the silence, and no answer came. 
 
 Then Helen rose with anger in her eye 
 
 And half appalled the goddess by her gaze. 
 
 " What wilt thou f " said she, "seek again the shades 
 
 Of Ida's pines, or where Adonis waits 
 
 Thy wanton love, if love be fitting name 
 
 For loves as countless as the countless sands I 
 
 Ah ! leave me I leave me to my peace and love. 
 
 For I am purer than the spotless down 
 
 On yonder snow-white swan ! Why seek to mar 
 
 Mine honour, or to make my name a sound 
 
 Of loathing to my lord, the noble King? 
 
 Hast thou no memory of my childish years 
 
 When by Eurotas' stream I used to play 
 
 In loving gambols with my brothers twain. 
 
 And Clytemnestra! Was I more than child 
 
 When the Athenian-Theseus wrought my shame, 
 
 And I, a maiden still, save by the deed 
 
 Unsought, unwished, became the scourge, the bane 
 
 Of mine own land i For now no blood can purge 
 
 My name, once spotless as fresh fallen snow ! " 
 
 Then Helen ceased, and Aphrodite smiled, 
 
 Ere from her lips the liquid music rolled, 
 
 Which calms the anger in all mortal breasts 
 
 And wooes e'en virtue by its dulcet tones : 
 
 " Fair child, ere since a babe, I loved thee well, 
 
 And on this day my love I come to prove. 
 
 Now dry those tears, thy lovely eyes should beam 
 
 With sparks of love, for in thy veins there flows 
 
 The purple blood of an immortal sire. 
 
 From Nemesis and from the Swan, art thou 1 
 
 Why tarry here the toy of mortal loid. 
 
 Or fold in thine embrace a form of clay I 
 
 
 Ixvi 
 
 iM.il 
 
" V '^1 
 
 •J 
 
 TE 
 
 HELEN AND APHRODITE 
 
 IH 
 
 
 What honour waits for those, whose honour dwells 
 
 In mortal breasts ? Why, beauty such as thine 
 
 Awakes the music of the sacred Nine, 
 
 Who on Parnassus by Apollo led 
 
 Shall hymn thy praises to the lute and lyre 
 
 And stamp thy glory, deathless as the stars I 
 
 Thou, queen, immortal in thy birth should'st share 
 
 The fond embrace cf an immortal spouse! 
 
 Thy crimson cheeks, and heaving breasts, e'en now 
 
 Are telltale of thy birth, and the desire 
 
 Of love more ardent than to mortals known. 
 
 But slumber now, and undisturbed by dreams 
 
 All through the day, and watches of the night. 
 
 For when Aurora's rosy chariot rolls 
 
 Along the pathway of the starry way 
 
 Thou shalt return from sleep, to joyous life." 
 
 Then Sleep, at Aphrodite's summons, came 
 
 BoiOe on soft breezes from Lemnian isle 
 
 And paused, till Helen on her couch reclined ; 
 
 Then gently — in his office ever kind — 
 
 He laid the poppies on her wavering lids 
 
 And lulled her as a little child, to sleep. 
 
 And Aphrodite loosed her zone, and lo ! 
 
 The face of Helen grew divinely fair 
 
 More lovely even than the queen of Love. 
 
 Now when the sun was high, the King arose 
 And left with Paris, all in haste to gain 
 The slopes of Mount Taygetus, there to drive 
 The wandering deer, and breathe the mountain air. 
 
 The day wore on, and through the palace rang 
 The laughter of the maidens and their song, 
 But still the Queen appeared not, and they said 
 " Why tarries thus our Queen ? Doth gentle sleep 
 
 i t 
 
 \i 
 
 1 
 
 il 
 
 Ixvii 
 
HELEN AND APHRODITE 
 
 T 
 
 
 \. 
 
 
 t 
 
 I't' 
 
 n 
 
 Still weave for her the garland of bright dreams?" 
 
 And when the hour of noon had long passed by, 
 
 They sought the little child Ilermione, 
 
 And led her to the chamber, knowing well 
 
 The music of her voice would banish sleep. 
 
 And round her loving mother's couch she played 
 
 Unheeded, till at length in fear she wept. 
 
 And when the maidens answering to her cries 
 
 The chamber reached, and failed to rouse the Queen 
 
 They bowed their heads, and said "our Queen is borne 
 
 To Euna's plains, with fair Persephone." 
 
 A gloom hung o'er the palace, as a shroud 
 And muffled voices sang in mournful tones 
 The praise of Helen and her wondrous charm. 
 And Paris and the King, returning heard 
 The sound of dirge above the silence rise, 
 And marvelled much, though neither spake one word 
 For unknown dread had checked the power of speech. 
 Then Menelaus as beneath a spell 
 Drew near the palace where the mourners wept, 
 And heeded not the child Hermione, 
 Who in her tender love had sought to share 
 The burden of his grief, and ease his pain. 
 Within the chamber where the Queen still slept 
 The King withdrew and watched, and wept alone 
 Till grief outwore his body and he slept. 
 
 Now when the daughter of the dawn prepared 
 To steer her chariot through the trackless sky : 
 That time the gold and amber cloud flocks wait 
 Impatiently to bear her company, 
 Fair Helen, radiant as the morn arose, 
 And light of heart, in love with health and youth. 
 No memory lingered of unhappy hours, 
 
 
 Ixviii 
 
 ii 
 
^E 
 
 HELEN AND APHRODITE 
 
 »e 
 
 No thought of evil, present, or to come 
 
 For o'er her soul there crept in pure delight 
 
 A sense of nameless beauty, sensuous calm - 
 
 Which steeps the spirits in Elysium. 
 
 And seeking out a crystal stream she bathed. 
 
 And bound her wealth of waving golden hair, 
 
 And robed herself in garment, which of old 
 
 Athene wrought, gift of immortal hand. 
 
 And ever from the thick-set boughs, the birds 
 
 In joyous song poured forth their meed of praise. 
 
 And Helen sank amid the flowers, and mused 
 
 Of nature and her never ceasing charms, 
 
 And blushed to think of that, she dared not speak. 
 
 Yet felt in every breath, in every pulse. 
 
 And as she plucked the petals from the flowers 
 
 To cast them slowly in the limpid stream, 
 
 She saw upon the surface crystalline 
 
 1 he mirrored purple of the flowing robe 
 
 Which clothed the god-like Paris, at her side. 
 
 And either gazed on other for awhile 
 
 As if expectant of some unknown joy. 
 
 Then smile met smile, and answered with a smile, 
 
 And thought unchecked, resolved itself in kiss, 
 
 And dreaming, in each other's arms entwined, 
 
 No thought disturbed them, save the thought of love. 
 
 And Aphrodite, ever hovering near. 
 
 Assumed the garb of ^thra, and thus spake:— 
 
 " 'Tis here, between the lily and the rose 
 
 Ye first have known the meaning of delight. 
 
 Yet danger lurks for those who tarry long. 
 
 While bliss awaits the answer to my call. 
 
 Now seek thy ship within the Gythian bay 
 
 And pass thy life as in a beauteous dream. 
 
 M 
 
 
 f 
 
 V- 
 
 Ixix 
 
HELEN AND APHRODITE 
 
 Then Paris, at the voice of Mthra, rose 
 And passed beneath her veil unto the ship. 
 And Helen followed gladly, for she thought 
 Of Paris as a god, who called in love. 
 Nor mused of ill, for how could evil dwell 
 Within a breast as spotless as the snow I 
 And happy in each other's company 
 They ploughed the furrows of the ocean's plain, 
 While Doris, Doto, and Amphimone 
 Made bridal music to the murmuring sea. 
 
 i' 
 
 - ( 
 
 'ilk 4& 
 
 If- 
 
 Thus Helen passed from her own shores awhile 
 
 By will of Aphrodite, wanton queen ; 
 
 Until once more, in the Elysian plain 
 
 Where falls not rain, or snow, and tears are not. 
 
 With Menelaus and Hermione 
 
 She wore again her crown, and reigned as queen 
 
 Worshipped by maidens for her purity; 
 
 Immortal in her glory and enshrined 
 
 Throughout all ages, as a perfect type 
 
 Of virgin beauty and of virgin love. 
 
 IP 
 
' 
 
 'U>orft0 of (^vt^uv ©♦ 'BoMQ^t^ 
 
 \i 
 
 TENNYSON, liis Life and Works, containing a biograph- 
 ical sketch, an analysis of the "Idylls of the King," 
 " In Memoriam," the Dramatic Works, and a review 
 of the "Death of (Enone," with three plates. Lon- 
 don, 1893 ^250 
 
 ROSE LEAVES, a collection of simple verses, written on 
 various occasions. London, 1894. . . . f a.oo 
 
 THE SONG-STORY OF FRANCESCO AND 
 BEATRICE, illuminated on Vellum by Arthur G. 
 Doughty, with six illustrations by F. S. Holiday. 
 
 IDYLLS OF THE KING, by Alfred Lord Tennyson, 
 engraved in shorthand, by A. G. Doughty. Sometime 
 of New Inn Hall, Oxon, with seven original drawings 
 by Hv. Sandham, R. C. A., and reproduction of auto- 
 graph letter of the Poet Laureate. Montreal, 1889. 
 
 I have read your appreciative essay 
 
 on " The Foresters " with which I heartily agree, 
 and I hope soon to have time to read your 
 other chapters. Yours faithfully, 
 
 Tennyson. 
 
 As curious a token of respect as was ever 
 paid to the genius of a favorite author. This 
 IS a handsome edition of the " Idylls of the 
 King" engraved in shorthand by Arthur G. 
 Doughty, adorned with some really excellent 
 illustrations. 
 
 The Rev. A. J. Church, M. A., 
 
 In "The Laureate's County." 
 
 u 
 
 }' 
 
 ■>,.jite".,;. v. «^>'"v^ ■-.,.. a^' 
 

 
 fluflfc Canorae ia printcO on \t)an 
 
 (5cl&et paper, bfi Smitb ^ Sale 
 
 publisbets an& prtntcrs 
 
 Bzcbattfle Street 
 
 Portland 
 
 Abaine 
 
' ■' 
 
 4 
 
m 
 
 It » 
 
 1'" 
 
 1:1 
 
w 
 
 I not' 
 the 
 W. 
 viz. 
 of 
 on 
 and 
 wa" 
 ne 
 at 
 th 
 ni< 
 oe 
 w 
 It 
 th 
 
 tv 
 
 M 
 
 ti Nugae Canorae " by A- Q- D- 
 Utor of Not- and Q««."^ ^^^.^^^.^ 
 Sir, -Do you know of^ a ^^' ^^^^^,y ? 
 ^;^^ ^er^ace^^he mar^et^i? 
 
 whot 18 the P"<^« oj. 'in„ appreciation of 
 
 nia vou ever make »"y "'''^ -.jj jf go, 
 
 thSe verae. >" ^""I^iC TJUr rernarks 
 
 would you i^'"f y ,5*C ? In w doma 
 
 in next Saturday a iM«e 
 
 you would oblige ^ rEADEK. 
 
 (Montreal.) ^ ^ 1897." wa» 
 
 "Nugae Canorae "y/\;^ate circulation, 
 
 isBuect I »>«l'«r 1 fh^t more than 25 or 
 and 1 do not ^hmk tj.at mo ^^^^ . 
 
 26 copies were P""^^;^ Qgyer hand-made 
 
 naper, with rough eoges, ^ ^e^tal de- 
 rate' parchment w.th an jun 
 
 eian printed m Qart ^,. ^^type ^V ^^^ 
 ?•? pages 8vo. and »" Alo*;'''^^^ Japanese 
 l^rVs Company, ot Boa^^^^^^y reference 
 vellum. ^ 1 ^^u^work fn thfa^olumn as 
 was made to the worK m i ^^ the 
 
 ft was not ffff'-^^^J^tbe tftle page, these 
 
 dedication. fo^W« « 0*"^* 'f ".not 
 words occur: ^"^^^ and therefore not 
 nretty title for a book, ana \ ^^^^ are 
 SmpUmentary \o y°"„d it is absolutely 
 
 further "^J^fJ^^'Notcs and Quen«. 
 
 oc 
 si' 
 lii 
 
 01 
 
 v 
 
 n 
 
 P 
 t 
 
 1 
 
 1- 
 
n