Production Note Cornell University Library pro- duced this volume to replace the irreparably deteriorated original. It was scanned using Xerox soft- ware and equipment at 600 dots per inch resolution and com- pressed prior to storage using CCITT Group 4 compression. The digital data were used to create Cornell's replacement volume on paper that meets the ANSI Stand- ard Z39.48-1984. The production of this volume was supported in part by the Commission on Prés- ervation and Access and the Xerox Corporation. Digital file copy- right by Cornell University Library 1991.Physical Description Note Pages 145-146 are lacking in the original. Replacements not available.Z i/P/Zâ.///? e jù /' ff/t*-'/*") *^^2 4-f éfLondon : Printed by Spottiswoode & Co. New-street Square.CONTENTS POEMS BY EDWARD WILBERFORCE. Page Don Juan ...... 3 The Field’s Secret . ' . . .23 The First Serpent . . . . .36 Two Lakes . . . . . .41 A Gorge in the Alps . . . .48 A Peasànt Woman . . . . .52 Britain’s Shame . . . . .57 A Sea-chase . . . . . .60 How can I Love thee stell? . . .63 To A Bride . . . . . .66 The Poet’s Training . . . .68 John Bull: a Fridat’s Homily . . .72 Rome : The Catacombs . . . .77 BoAT SERENADE . . . . .80 If thou dost love thy Saviour and thy Son . 82 I GRIEVED TO THINK THAT THOU WERT DEAD . 83 Written at Munich . . . .85 The English in Rome . . . .87 Saint Shakespeare . . . . .88IV CONTENTS. Page 89 Not Régal port, nor pomp of Màjesty . He WHO SHOULD SEE THEE IN THY SIMPLE DRESS . 90 On a Wayside Pictüre in the Boden-Alpe . 91 On an Unknown Friend’s Volume . . 92 A Conceit . . . . . .93 “ Whom the Gods Love Die Young” . . 94 We NEYER KNOW THE VALUE OF A LlFE . . 96 The Return from the Tomb . . .98 Ode to Venus . . . . . 103 Pro Bono Publico . . . . 106 P0EMS BY EDMUND PORSTER BLANCHARD. Corpse-Light . . 115 An Unpremeditated Love-Letter . . 118 At First Sight . 122 To Whom ? . 125 WlNTER THOUGHTS . 127 Toujours Perdrix . 129 To AN UTTER STRANGER . 131 Irrésistible . . 134 Written to Music . . 136 Again to Music . 138 Yet again to Music . . 140 Once more to Music . 142 Explanation . . 144POEMS BY EDWARD WILBEREORCE. Lusimus. vacui sub umbrA Horace. BCAN.TO SEYENTEEN. I. The Chinese say that painters, at the Judgment, The bodies tbey hâve painted must supply With soûls : were every man who wrought a smudge meant I should suspect its possibility. Yet even for good paiuters ’twere a drudgment, For soûls are scarce, and the price of one is high. I’ve often wondered, man so poor a clod is, How God will furnish soûls for ail his bodies. b 24 DON JUAN. II. Howe’er this be, ’tis certain that a poet Who undertakes a work (the fact I State As it seems right that Tennyson should know it, And wind up the Morte d’Arthur ere too late) And leaves it but a Torso, must endow it With ail the life he purposed to create : This is the reason why I shape anew an Addition to my over-grown Don Juan. ni. I write this présent verse from the Oasis Of Poets, lying in the Elysian fields, A caravanserai of various races Though but one tongue, since Babel’s curse repealed’s ; Or rather, partly in each other’s faces We read, and every glance its meaning yields : So with small Latin, and less Greek, our Avon’s Sweet swan can follow Pindar’s wildest ravings.DON JUAN. 5 IV. Here we ail live in harmony, and none Attacks another, which you’ll think is strange, Seeing that bards a different name hâve won : And yet to me it seems a pleasant change : The days are over when I cared to run Amuck at ail men of dissimilar range ; I’m reconciled with Wordsworth, and hâve sorrowed For what I gave him, and for what I borrowed. v. And Wordsworth finds that Pope, and Gray, and Dryden, Deserve more praise than once he may hâve thouglit, Asserting that he ever did confide in Their powers, whenever with fit thèmes tliey wrought : He only aimed at giving them a hiding For painting Nature, which they did’nt ought. (Here he adopts the language of his peasants, Howe’er in that he shows a great decrescence.)DON JUAN. VI. Homer looks through us with his sightless eyes, The Grecian majesty that lives in stone By Phidias wrought : a look like his own skies, And speaks with Nestor’s wisdom in each tone. In Goethe’s look a faint resemblance lies, The modem Jove, serene on ivory throne ; Yet somehow Shakspeare I prefer to Goethe, Although the latter’s volumes number thirty. vu. The two blind poets, and the third who saw , Though scarce as clear as they, the Greek, the Briton, And the great German, ail inspire an awe : And yet so close and rigid are they knitten, That one whose brow relaxes in a thaw Of smile and j est, that love andmeekness sit on, Commands more suffrages, and therefore Willy had Even more praise than he who wrote the Iliad.DON JUAN. 7 VIII. Not that old Homer grudges him his laurel, For well he knows the gods approve his strain ; And therefore Yirgil does not seek a quarrel In his defence, from whom so much he’s ta’en : Indeed, he is so busy with his moral And hateful chief, that he must needs abstain From following the great Grecian as a Boswell, And truly in that task he never was well. IX. But he is always polishing the Æneid At the full rate of one line in a year, So many rocks of métré has he seen ahead Through the which scarce could Palinurus steer ; Nor is he half content with that Drydeniad Where the same pilot gives a word so queer That even to landsmen it a woful gabble is Who’ve read the sea-terms in the Year Mirabilis.8 DON JUAN. X. But to return to Shakspeare, that good fellow, For such indeed he is, as I can show If you will merely give me leave to tell you What happened here a little time ago : It were quite worth a Hamlet or Othello, ’Twould sober Lear, and tickle Romeo, ’Twould almost make Southey’s dead Roderic quiek To hear his screams of laughter over Pickwick. xi. You see I hit at Southey still, but he Is not a dweller with us ; though invited, He chose to sojourn in Jove’s Library, Among the bookworms he so oft had cited, As helluo librorum ; for from me He judged that bards each other’s prospects blighted So, as he would not live with us, of course I Hâve reasonable grounds for being saucy.DON JUAN, 9 xn. A great performance t’other day we had, Milton’s Macbeth, that broke no single unity : The actors ail in ancient masks were clad : And that the Greeks might hâve the opportunity Of judging if the bnskin or the plaid Were best, as Shakspeare did not claim immunity, Æschylus therefore, Sophocles, Euripides, Sat upon Milton’s play, and its Antipodes. xrn. Of course the judges found that Milton’s play Was fine throughout, and truly regular ; In lyric strain the chorus said its say ; The speeches were so long as not to mar The grand efîect, or tire the mind away, And no buffooning clowns produced a jar ; So, on the whole, they thought. the son of England Had writ a good play for that ding-dong-ding land.10 DON JUAN XIY. If anybody understands the criticism He’s welcome to his analytie power : If anybody likes the final witticism He’s free to giggle at it for an hour : We talked of nothing else but the committee’s schism, And sonie few Germans spluttered, raved, and swore, Saying, in language stiffer than a fop’s stock, That Milton’s Epies scarcely equalled Klopstock. xv. The trio were desired to re-consider Their verdict, and on Shakspeare to pronounce : They saw his play, consulted, and then bid a Second performance, for a depth of flounce That Lady Macbeth wore, entirely hid her, And such a weight of terror (half an ounce ?) Hung on their hearts and eyes, they could not venture, Till they had seen it, to inflict their censure.DON JUAN. 11 XVI. The actress who wore flounces, I should state, Was of the school of Garrick, who, we read, Performed Maclbeth, a wig upon his pâte, And a small court sword for his final need. No wonder, if Macduff eut off such tête And beat back the defence of such a blade. Once when he acted, in a fury fit, His wig fell off, and no one noticed it ! XYII. I talked of Pickwick, and should let you know We’re kept au courant with the world of letters, For ail the newspapers are sent below, And for amusement we are much their debtors : Also the periodics make a show, But prove too oft ail is not gold that glitters, For sometimes even Blackwood and the Quarterly Pick out dull subjects, and do bore us mortally.12 BON JUAN. XVIII. You’ll wonder if we quarrel on the merit Of Thackeray and Dickens, as they do Who are less eager genius forth to ferret From dark abode : with us it is not so ; The honour due to talent, we confer it Alike on ail their worthiness who show, And thus we venture to assign the proper seat To men of thoughts and characters most opposite. XIX. We relish Dickens, who can never lack a ray Of genius, even when fallen on ill theme ; Placed neither over, nor yet under Thackeray, Whose writings ail with wisdom’s precepts teem, Who like knight-errant hews down quackery, Yet sheds on goodness a more génial gleam. I’d tell you, if this stanza not so full were, What warm encomium I could pass on Bulwer,DON JUAN. 13 XX. Dramatist, novelist, and politician ; And Jerrold, keenest in the play of wit : Nor of Disraeli may I make omission. But I must haste to ladies who hâve writ, Some to improve their sex’s hard condition, As Mrs. Norton ; more who’ve made a hit In novels — and of praise I would not wrong ’em, But for their names ’twere “nunc prescribere longum:” XXI. Mrs. Marsh, Mrs. Trollope, Mrs. Gaskell, Miss Yonge, Miss Brontë, and full many a one Whom I could count or name as easy as kill The Hydra, which perplexed Alcmena’s son ; Believe a newspaper, or noble rascal Who cheats the country :—while such deeds are done And suffered, ’tis a thing that wondrous odd I call How politics engross each periodical.14 DON JUAN. XXII. Better the Quarterly should sing of Rats Than the décliné of Parliament’s efficiency : (About the latter one thing’s certain, that’s What everybody must with deep contrition see The fall of éloquence :) but since the Fates Hâve taken Lockhart, such is the deficiency Of stormy politics in the Review That I don’t mind an article or two. xxm. And Aytoun has succeeded to the ferule Of polished Ebony, that Wilson swayed, To the discomfort of a herd of stérile And flashy writers, who their bands arrayed Intending sense and grammar to imperil ; But of his floggings they are so afraid That they hâve half repented ; e’en that silly one Whose wanton lunacy provoked Firmilian.DON JUAN. 15 XXIV. And yet the critic is too hard on Tennyson Sometimes, and most decidedly on Maud ; For Alfred’s a true poet, even when he’s on A subject so unpleasing : murder, fraud, A State of things so foui that war’s a benison The Muse might well pass by, yet must we laud The skilful treatment that could so combine Ail female grâces in the heroine. XXY. A poet might be reconciled to earth (Even a morbid poet, like the writer,) By such a paragon of female worth, If it were only possible to sight her : But much I fear such beauties hâve their birth In their creator’s mind, und gehen nicht weiter.* I know not what has kept me from confessing That here we hâve no women : such a blessing ! And go no farther.16 DON JUAN. XXVI. Now you will stare, for poets always sing Of women more than any other topic ; And on their eyebrows, necks, and features, ring The changes in a strain most microscopie ; Yet, but for women, they would Sound the string With grâce Parnassian, fervour like a tropic : Is it not higher far to sing of duty Than of what rhymes to and rewards it, beauty ? xxvn. But women urge their humanising us, Making our minds less savage (like “ ingenuas”—) That is, they make men light and frivolous, Unnerving ail their manliness, as many as Tell them where lies their strength : Philistia thus O’ercame by woman’s wiles the Hebrewstrenuous: Through them fell Juan, hero of this poem ; He’d hâve been greater could he but forego ’em.DON JUAN. 17 XXVIII. The hero of this poem, thus I speak Advisedly, for in the former stanzas I’ve scarcely mentioned him, and they, wlio seek For what the hero, not for what the man, says, Will call me egotist, or think my freak, Discursiveness, than System better answers ; So now to tell you what I mean to do Throughout this final canticle, or two. XXIX. Firstly, the poem will be moral ; next, It will not be immoral ; for the rest— But truth to tell you, I am much perplexed How ail I hâve to say will be expressed. This you will gather when you read the text : And for the notes, they’re meant to add a zest With piquant anecdotes, and bits of scandai ; For such are plentiful, and I command ail c18 DON JUAN. XXX. From the extensive nature of our library, In which ail authors, whether old or new, Hâve their due place, and, as a great imbiber, I Know where a scrap of learning to pursue ; Especially as, with a little bribery, The attendants tell us ail they ever knew. Besides, our catalogue^ a great assistance, And there we leave ail others at a distance. XXXI. ’Tis not, since so much ink and wrath were spilt on My former cantos, that l’m moral now ; But such a lecture I’ve received from Milton Against indecency, that I avow A different System this last part is built on : You’ll find it duller, poorer, I alloiv Than the preceding portions, but the tone Is of a pureness no one need disown.DON JUAN. ]9 xxxn. And since I Ve ne’er approved of the morality Of England, and as Juan was among The highest samples of the highest quality Whose virtue stood ’gainst the most slanderous tongue; Lest such a state should please his pampered palate, he Must be removed to purify my song. So, if you please, we 11 bring him out of Albion ; And this last canto, or last cantos, shall be on XXXIII. That country which the Channel séparâtes From Dover cliffs :—not that the morals there Are one whit purer than our calmer state’s, Or half so pure, or women half so fair. But what I’m going to describe relates To war, in which that sex had little share, Although they had a Corday : so I Tl push on In fitting strain to sing the Révolution.20 DON JUAN. XXXIV. They who hâve read my Journals by Tom Moore May haply know I talked of guillotining My hero in the Reign of Terror, nor Am I averse to carrying out my meaning. No one has sung the instrument which shore So many heads off at a single gleaning ; And yet it sliould not lack the vates sacer Who préserves men and objects that are baser. xxxv. I should hâve found more trouble in the search For full materials, had I not Carlyle, Whose history leaves ail others in the lurch, What with its pointed brevity of style, And swift reflections, cutting like a birch, Or knife—but birch is sharpest, as the smile Of Eton shows, on coming to this passage, Which may remind some of the lower class âge.DON JUAN. 21 XXXVI. I shall do ail I’m able to afiord a Tribute of honour to the heroine Of the French Révolution, Charlotte Corday, Who lives in Anti-Williams Ponsard’s line : And Robespierre I must flagellate, who bored a Good honest atheist with his être divine. And I must get a Walker, or Tm blesséd, or T’othered, if I shall find a rhyme to Messidor, XXXVII. And Thermidor, and Pluviôse, and Fructidor ; Names in themselves so tortured out of shape That only he who from its hinges pluckt a door Such could pronounce, nor dislocate his nape. Yet in their art must rhymers be instructed, or Some of our English months would make them gape; Why even you, although a clever man you are, I Doubt if you 11 find a proper rhyme for January.22 DON JUAN. XXXVIII. Now to wind up this Préfacé, and begin With a new canto on a greater scale : Then thus : — Sing, Heavenly Muse, the guillotine, Thou who erst told the taking of Ismail, The virtue Inez showed at Julia’s sin, And of Haidee the wild and wondrous taie ; And ye, O Readers, for ye know me, listen ! From Bob’s exordia IVe borrowed this one. END OF CANTO SEVENTEEN.23 THE FIELD’S SECRET. --4--- Long had the sun departed from the vale, In tlie west sky the orange tints were pale ; But on the Eastern mountains y et delayed The vivid daylight, dogged by stealing shade : And still from peak to peak the radiance leapt, And still from peak to peak the darkness crept ; Like the last giant striving ’gainst the flood, That rose and washed his feet where’er he stood. By a young copse, before the bridge you gain, Turns from the open road a briery lane That winds ’mongst brakes, and hedgerows wildly strown, With lawless flowers, half-budding and half-blown ; C 424 THE FIELD’S SECRET. Through frequent gaps the streamruns, glassy-clear, Whose childish prattle never quits the ear ; A furlong on it skirts a garden lawn With rows of flowers in artful figures drawn, Here planted blocks the streamlet’s bed invade, And whirl it foaming down a rude cascade. Behind the lawn a house lies dark and low, Scarce to the road its smokeless chimneys show ; In front a cottage, at the back a farm, Where clacked and grunted the domestic swarm. As twilight deepened, a foot-traveller strode Down the dark lane, white from the dusty road, Of middle âge, whose members strongly framed, And muscles trained to toil, a man proclaimed,* But that the soûl, which gleamed o’er brow and face, Showed him the issue of some higher race. Years, travels, woes on him had left no trace, But glided off from his impervious face. * Voilà un homme.—Napoléon (of Goethe at 60).THE FIELD’S SECRET, 25 A peasant wending homewards stopped to gaze, At such a vision struck with mute amaze. To every question made lie meek reply, Watching the Poet with forestalling eye. He showed the cottage-farm, wherein, he said, A man of easy circumstances led An easy life : he tended not his flocks ; Unconscious owned the country’s fattest ox ; His very pigs were strangers to his view ; His crops—he scarcely wheat from barlev knew. Yet, spite of ail this ignorance and sloth, His eager mind outran his body’s growth. He seemed aye thinking, and with care depressed ; Walking, his head was bowed upon his breast. ’Twas said, some secret haunted him, he sought Deep hid ideas from the wells of thought. Five years ago, a field he set aside To try his projects : none hâve yet been tried, And still his face increasing furrows wears. “ What is his âge ?” “I think, some thirty years.”26 THE FIELD’S SECRET. “Married?” “Why, yes :—But now five years hâve sped— Just ere these notions gathered in his head— Since he believed his wife was faithless grown ; What proofs he had, what grounds, was never known : He placed her in a convent, there it stands — That small white speck upon the higher lands.” “ Thanks, friend. This field you named — ?" “ Third on your right ; You cannot fail to notice it : Good night.” At the third stile the Poet stopped to gaze Where weeds unkemped ran wild in jungly maze, Sad sight to farmers : but a deeper eye Saw here the presence of some mystery ; The moaning wind breathed meaning notes, that stole Laden with anguish through the Poet’s soûl : Thrilled by a viewless contact, he beheld A partial stir in the mysterious field. Parting the tangled weeds, a woman rose Like marble form where warmth for ever glows,THE FIELD’S SECRET. 27 A queen-like woman, of commanding eye And features set in Grecian Majesty, Pale as in death, but fairer than in life, A heavenly calm, unstirred by worldly strife. He marked her features well : hers was a face That leaves for life an unextinguished trace ; Her dress, her hair, no portion scaped his view, — One look, he knew her as his heart he knew. A man behind her came : he did not dare To front the beauty that he might not spare. Upon his face necessity was writ, But guilt lurked near, and shame close fol- lowed it. He seized the woman’s throat, a single gasp, And the corpse dropped as he released his clasp. The Poet scanned him while the dead he gave To kindred earth, and scooped a hasty grave. He sees a youth of five-and-twenty years, Though scarce that âge upon his face appears, Of noble linéaments, a brow that told Mind great in shaping, in performing bold,28 THE FIELD’S SECRET. Long light-brown locks o’er firm-knit shoulders curled, That fitter seemed to prop the labouring world : No being born for crime : what did he there ?— And now the vision melted into air. Striving with thought, the Poet turned away, And sought the farm, his doubtings to allay. The kitchen glowed with such an ample blaze As showed the dangers of the narrow ways ; Here leaked a puddle from the nearest sty That drenched the man, and left the porker dry ; Here rose sharp stones like islands from a sea That, if you slipped, splashed higher than the knee ; The rotten palings cracked at lightest weight, And on the dunghill lodged their too confiding freight. Safe by these obstacles the Poet pressed, And ail the household thronged to greet the guest. At a long table the farm-servants sat, Prolonging supper by a hearty chat ;THE FIELD’S SECRET. 29 The home-made platters, carved from whitest wood, Bore giant portions of substantial food ; Pies, fenced with crust where swords had found a sheath Unyielding, melted ’neath the labourer’s teeth ; The overseer sat at the table’s head, Joked with the njerriest, with the lustiest fed ; Full mouths broad-grinned, then pealed out bois- terous laughter That shook the bacon dangling from the rafter. Then came a sudden silence, only stirred By clattering knives, and gurglings fainter heard. The Poet turned, and saw a lonely man Who something real seemed in air to scan ; So steadfastly on nought were bent his eyes That nothing earthly broke his reveries : The lines of care, the abstraction, told how true To life the portrait that the peasant drew ; But such a weight of years, and mental strife, Of sorrowful and intellectual life,30 THE EIELD’S SECRET. Pressed on his features, that the Poet’s eye Doubted awhile of his identity : He scarce recalled the youth his vision showed, Whose frame with vigour, brow with genius, glowed : His stature must hâve shrunk if this were he, His strength forsaken him ; it could not be ; Such was the différence of âge and make, And yet so like him one might well mistake. Thus while he gazed and mused the dreamer woke, And words of welcome, much embarrassed, spoke. To a neat parlour he the stranger led, Where on the board a frugal meal was spread. Some formai questions passed, and short replies,— The valley’s beauty, the unruffied skies, Had each their praise,—and thus in wonted style, The conversation hobbled on awhile. Then, higher topics broached, it warmed, and each His heart unfolded to the spell of speech.THE FIELD’S SECRET. 31 For as a spark on gathered nitre falls, And whirls in air the bulk of bomb-proof walls, So may a word at random dropped unbind Captives in deepest dungeons of the mind, Thoughts heaped on thoughts, of half a lifetime’s growth, That slept through fear, or solitary’s sloth. It needs not here their converse to report, The lists they entered, and the fields they fought ; The wild opinions broached, and held awhile As gospel truths, then yielded with a smile ; How indignation blazed, and, quenched by wit, Still hovering near, a constant fervour lit ; How time and space no obstacles opposed, And the day’s news ten centuries’ annals closed : Love and philosophy went hand in hand With gold that poisoned, war that swept, the land, Science with trade ; as in a crowded way The black priest jostles ’gainst the lady gay. On Art at last they lighted, and discust Its myriad phases with Catholic gust.32 THE FIELD’S SECRET. Chief when due praise to others was assigned The heavenly Raphaël dwelt upon the mind. Not theirs the cant of connoisseurish zeal, To prate of beauty that they could not feel, To note a face as born beneath the rule Of Perugin’s or Leonardo’s school, Where the full heart, with rapt dévotion stirred, Adores the Mother of the Incarnate Word. After long talk of beauty, which had drawn Niglit’s flying hours to morning’s twilight dawn, That earlier evening, cool with softer light, And fresher dew, without a sparkle bright, They rose ; but first the host, with lurking doubt, Unlocked a case and drew a picture out. The Poet took it from his backward hand That proffered now, and would hâve now retained A woman’s portrait, limned in faithful oil, That spoke an artist’s and a lover’s toil ; A queen-like woman of commanding eye, And features set in Grecian majesty :—THE FIELD’S SECRET. 33 Not the field’s phantom quite, and yet as like As flesh-hued Venus to the white antique. The Poet starting glanced upon his host, But he in hopeless reverie was lost, A trance more deep than slumber, clogged his eye, And his broad brow lay hushed in vacancy. Sudden a tapping at the window came, A cautious voice pronounced the farmer’s name, Andinstrained whisperhusk, the news conveyed,— “ She died last night, when twilight’s deepest shade Became the faintest of the growing night : E’en such from life to death her spirit’s flight.” At once the Poet flung the window wide, And gazing out the messenger espied, A nun of sober garb, and looks resigned, That death in life which charms the weary mind ; A face where woe her prints had never set, Ploughed with no wrinkles, with no tear-drops wet, Such as oft makes the thinking passer start, And strikes a chilling sadness to the heart j P34 THE FIELD’S SECRET. For suck a calm stagnation surely showed That joys and sorrows travel in one road, That grief-worn faces gladness fittest wear, And joy’s smile dimples in the lines of care. Upon the farmer’s face no change appeared, With courteous air the full details he heard, Then to the Poet turning, thus began : — “ I cannot ask y ou longer to remain, Howe’er I wish your company : you know Ail my affliction, and hâve seen my woe. My wife ! and yet a kusband’s grief is dumb, Or looks to him whence only help may corne. Wherefore, my friend, should such name please, adieu.” “ You call me friend. Show that the name is true. ’Tis but a little confidence I seek. Some questions I would ask.” “ Nay, freely speak.” “ That portrait was your wife’s ? ” “ It was, my friend.” “ And she retired, in prayer her days to end ? ”THE FIELD’S SECRET. 35 “E’en so ; and now,from earth’s pollution healed—” “ How was it then you slew lier in jour field ?” “ I ask not what you know,” thé host replied, “ Nor how the secret, that I thought had died With the two hearts that shared it, came to light. But you would know my history aright. I marked your interest while we talked ; you seemed Like one in visions wondering if he dreamed, Or one whose wife is dead, who scarcely hears The dreary nothings whispered in his ears, And gives faint thanks for forme and bated breatli, While his soûl wanders on the shores of death. Part of the visio^ you hâve seen, not ail ? ” “ ’Tis true ; that faded at the corpse’s fall.” “ While in the ground I placed her, she revived, And told me ’twas through mercy that she lived. Five y ears had God allowed her to préparé For final judgment : they should pass in prayer.”36 THE FIRST SERPENT. —♦— What créature was so beautiful as I Throughout the garden ? Everything was fair,— The harmless lion with the flowing mane Laving his neck, the silky tiger’s skin And velvet paws,—yet nothing could excel My spires of burnished gold, that in the sun Flashed various colours, as the light that shows In curious glass, the scarlet diamond squares That scaled my sides, my tongue unforked as yet, And my small head that added grâce to grâce So finely tapered ; oft the man would turn An eye of kindness on me, as I passed Over the grassy plats in devious wayTHE FIRST SERPENT. 37 Oft would the woman, pausing from her work, Admire my gambols, and confess me most Of créatures favoured ; and their angel guests Hâve bade me welcome. Once I lay asleep, And passed from slumber to a deeper trance, Some pains oppressed m y head, a greater power Urged me unwilling and unknowing forth ; It seemed as though my body were not mine : And ail this passed in dreams. I sallied out, Now stood before the woman, now my tongue Moved in unwonted manner, and I spoke ! Followed reply to speech, and then reply. At last the woman plucked a branch of fruit, Tasted, and eat. That moment in her eye I seemed to catch reflection of my form, Though dimly, as a drunkard in a mirror ; And such a look of diabolic spite, With hâte, and triumph, and temptation mixed, Sate on my face, it startled me ; I felt ’Twas I, and would hâve yet denied its truth,33 THE FIRST SERPENT. So to my covert slunk away, abashed. I woke oppressed, with pains tbat through my head Sliot poisonous gnawings? and I felt a change. What meant m y dream ? Had some ill spirit ta’en Possession of m y senses for a while, And in m y head found dwelling ? Yes, I felt Marks of his presence : where ’twas smooth before A gland was swollen, or a bag was formed, Whence stole a horror, telling of some plague That lurked within. I wandered from my couch— The garden too was changed : where life had been, Songs of fresh birds, and gambols, there was death. The trees were stripped and b are ; upon the lawn A hind lay quivering, rent by tiger’s claw ; And scattered plumage fluttered ’mong the leaves. I passed a limpid brook, and gazing there More changes found : my taper head was turned To a fiat spade-like form, as though ’twere bruised By foot of man ; my tongue was forked, perchance To punish, and prevent, presumptuous speech.THE FIRST SERPENT. 39 A sadder change awaited me : I found Outside the garden, whence an angel drove me, The man and woman weeping o’er a form Where the man’s strength joined with the woman’s grâce, That had inherited from each a part Of those possessions they received from God Life only wanting. I would hâve soothed their grief As prattling babies lull a father’s woe Unconsciously ; but that they drove me off With fear and horror. AU that I came near (For men and women now were multiplied) Fled me, or sought some instrument of war. At last I found a child, who, with the heart Of fearless innocence, attracted by My flashing colours, sported ’mong my folds, Laughing to be encircled as if clothed In robe of jewels : then he placed his hand Among my teeth, and playing with them grazed40 THE FIRST SERPENT. So as to scratch the skin, his smallest finger, And strait he dropped down dead, with one quick shriek Tliat called his parents, and the whole village forth, Who wept and cursed, and seizing sticks and stones Fell upon me ; and I, to fury raised, Struck with my teeth, a corpse at every stroke. Then first I knew my power ; then feeling wronged By men, in turn a hatred I conceived As deadly as my poison, ’gainst mankind.41 TWO LAKES. —♦— Whence hast thou gained a richer blue Than fathomless Atlantic waves O narrow lake, whose deeper hue The heaven’s unclouded lustre braves ? Thy sentry cliffs are rent and scarred By storms of snow and snaky fire ; Undaunted yet they stand, to guard Thy bosom from its rival’s ire. So fierce the avalanches roar In winter down yon wall of rock, That trees upon your further shore Are shattered by the æther’s shock.42 TWO LAKES. Wcre it not well to sue for peace ? A tributary of the sky Mirror its colour, and increase Its beauty to the passées eye ? But no ; thou wilt not own its might, Nor, like thy sister-lakes, refleet Its fainter blue, its dingier white Than thy deep waves, and peaks snow-decked. Yet think thee, ’tis an awful war Thou wagest ’gainst so great a foe Of boundless power, that spreads as far Its marshalled ranks as storms can blow. Thy vales a like encounter viewed, (That might to thee a warning prove) When from the world Napoléon stood, And one ’gainst ail the kingdoms strove.TWO LAKES. 43 What was his fate ? He left a name. And yet the world can pardon now The temporary blush of shame He stamped upon its brazen brow, Ere it can own by gracious words The wounds Jjhat Byron gave are healed ; To the pen’s triumphs thus the sword’s In durable effect must yield. But thou, who canst no écho find In glowing bosoms, or infuse Thy spirit into every mind Through the wild magic of thy Muse, Why shouldst thou aim at being great, And standing from thy kin alone ? Or struggle ’gainst o’erwhelming fate When e’en thy struggles are unknown ?44 TWO LAKES. And each “ John Smith, of Paddington, Who visited these mountains high, And this true scene of Nature, on The twenty-second of July,” Who doth for slaves thy peasants take To Austrian power, or Austrian wiles, Sees in the blue and smiftrig lake Nought but its deep tint and its smiles. O fling aside this bitter mood, Nor court, by loss of friendship, famé : To live in loveless solitude Is not a true man’s noblest aim. The petty trials, that are felt So harsh for high-strung minds to prove, Like April’s doubtful snow-falls, melt Beneath a sunny glance of love.TWO LAKES. 45 Not such the life thy sister leads, Wed to the sky, from whence the boon Of calmness, freshness, love proceeds, In a perpétuai honeymoon. Wordsworth of lakes, that lives to teach Unconscious texts of kindest lore ; Whose thoughts, too deep for tears to reach, Lie scattered free on wave and shore. Oft when at eve, I wooed her breast, Before the prow the mountains spread So near, so clear, seemed there to rest, And mere reflections overhead. Still glided on the hills in front As still you rowed ; till you should press With toilsome clamber up the mount : Such the pursuit of Happiness.46 TWO LAKES. Oft when at eve, red clouds might float, With varying tint, o’er the pleased sky, And the sight, wearied long to note Each spangled shade of brilliancy, Turned to the lake, and saw them there So changed, in purple patches spread, The wave seemed purer than the air— Seemed as the clouds were sinful red. Thus joy that men may revel in Careless, or thinking scarce to rue, To woman shows a deadlier sin, As to the red the purple hue* So when the sun had sunk beyond The low west hills, and hurled from thence A fury gleam, and the skies donned Sudden their raiment of defence ;TWO LAKES. 47 The pitch-clouds flushed an angry red, And, midst them, rifts of sulky black, Yawning to ghastly fissures, shed A gloom on light’s late smiling track. Turn to the lake, the sky was there With clouds most delicately pink, Checked the dark passions of the air B y counsel, at combustion^ brink.48 A GOEGE IN THE ALPS. —♦— We crouched for shelter ’neath the dripping eaves While raged the storm without, and through the mist That hung upon the mountain’s skirts, and elothed The pines with priestly vestments, scarce descried The other bank, where the frail blue-bells drooped Beneath the pitiless hail : at last the fog Swept by in serried columns, like the march Of some victorious army, and we heard The tramp of hailstones faint and fainter grow, Till nothing broke the silence of the scar But the slow drip from eave, and rock, and branch. Again we sallied out ; our footsteps fell With muffled plash upon the sodden clay ;A GORGE IN THE ALPS. 49 We saw the weeping tresses of the larch Sway to the ground, and veil the graceful stem, As though Godiva found a Daphne’s tomb, Purest of Dryads : here the mountain ash, With clustered corals dipped in liveliest red New washed, and showering pearls to every wind, Quivering with delight : the streaming fir Through its soaked bark distilled a fresher scent : But on the unsheltered moss were mournful wrecks Of shattered blue-bells, as upon the shores Beneath the scowling Cape of Torments, lie Bich baies and argosies with seamen drowned, Masts splintered, that had vainly striven to bear Unconscious mothers, babes upon whose birth The fickle océan smiled, and perjured winds Whispered baptismal blessings : now we brushed A field of grass with long brown-purply tips, Whence looking on the opposing Alp, we saw The bow of promise, seeming to plumb the stream That broke its noisy way ’mongst blocks, and raged E50 POEMS. With thunder over dams, far, far below ; Midway it fell on steers tbat peaceful grazed The slope ; above it touched the calmer sky. The Love of God flashed through me, and I wept, Bounding along the rugged path with limbs Whence sudden dropped a load of weariness As Christian’s burden fell before the cross ; My eyes more purely through a limpid veil Gazed on the sign of mercy, whilst I mused That as this bow ’twixt sky and earth abides And makes them one by touch of sympathy, Even so God’s Love descends from heaven, and breathes A portion of His spirit through our hearts, And Love, the keystone of this earthly frame, From the soul’s depth awakes a purer prayer Than e’er was muttered by enthusiast lips. Here might man commune freely with his God. Surely no sin can dwell in such a spot, No power of evil clamber o’er the rocks,.A GORGE IN THE ALPS. 51 The gorge’s portais : Cherubim are there With flaming brand, only by guilt descried, Where the free spirit hears the voice of God Walking, as erst in Eden, unashamed. Clearer His accents than in valleys rich With red-cheeked orchards, and dense-surging corn. The riven pines, the snowy peaks that soar Above the clouds, the brooks a moment swells To cataracts, the craggy walls proclaim What might is His, to govern such a world ; What love is His, to lavish it on man.52 POEMS. A PEASANT W011 AN. —f-— Good friend, who trudgest daily ’neath thy load Through this grim pass, to thee a barren road, For a small fee content our packs to bear, Wild, if an extra penny crown thy care ; Who liv’st aloft where Alpine forests surge, And lioarse winds howl the adventurous peasant’s dirge ; Closcd in a hamlet, far from mortal ken, To which one path suffices streams and men ; llow go thy days ? Art thou content to live Wherç dreary régions scant subsistence give ? And wert thou then created to reverse The maxims Horace clothed in careless verse ?A PEASANT WOMAN. 53 He saw the soldier pray for business life, The merchant sigh for military strife, The skilful lawyer ask a peasant’s birth, And said content existed not on earth. Grant thou art free from care, and what thy gain ? For pleasure lies not in the lack of pain. Hadst thou a mind with rapturous visions filled, A poet’s heart, by wildering frenzies thrilled, That in this gorge, through which you tamely plod, Could feel the presence of the living God, Sôme care were thine on earth, but well repaid By full communion with each mighty shade Whose thoughts, in mental treasuries bestowed, Guide younger âges on the heavenward road. Truly ’twere better (could it thus befall) The gods had made thee but poetical ;* Thy daily walks would show thee priceless good ; Precepts would bloom in mountain solitude : * “ As You Like It e 354 POEMS. Here gazing awe-struck o’er the deep ravine, Clothed with dark firs, and larches’ livelier green, To hear the river roaring far below, Scarce seen, so thick the barberry clusters grow, Whose graceful branches droop, as thoughtheygave A kiss of friendship to each passing wave ; To see the yawning gulf a rainbow span, Uniting sky with earth, and God with man, Would teach a higher faith, a purer fire Than priests impart, or graven saints inspire ; Thou wouldst not pray that England might be brought To adore the Pope, and stifle freer thought. What dost thou know of Popes who ne’er hâve erred, Inspired, to interpret wrong the Sacred Word? Of Peter’s primacy, and ail the rest, As oft refuted quite, as oft expressed ? But some will say your simple faith has shown What should avoided be, and what be done.A PEASANT WOMAN. 55 A simple faith I willingly approve That teaches fervour, charity, and love ; That in these mountain passes doth record, With homely skill, the sorrows of our Lord ; That rears by forest wild, and lonely heath, These quaint portrayals of each sudden death : I call not simple, faith presumptuous grown, That ignorant, damns ail churches save its own ; That daily climbs these cliffs, and yet can feel, So close to heaven, a cramped sectarian zeal ; So high, earth’s tumults scarcely can you hear, The bickerings fall so distant on the ear ; Here Papist, Protestant, sound faint and far, And to the world-freed soûl no meaning bear : Raised from the earth, what mortal can respect The petty clamours of each jarring sect? The terms hair-split, the metaphysic prate, The pious love that veils the immortal hâte, By whose kind aid they prove St. Peter’s sway : — To prove is more important than to pray. E 456 POEMS. Let the learned Don his village flock implore To read the classics, teach that classic lore A due contempt for ail beneath us lent, And led to posts of great émolument. In you a greater wonder we behold, Convinced sans argument, sans learning bold ; Who think’st ail sects, save that in which you chance To live, are lost in hopeless ignorance ; That men of learning, piety, and zeal, Who hold ail truths the sacred books reveal, Blest with an equal share of gospel light, Needs must be wrong, since you must needs be right. If then ’tis fît that learning should bequeath To ail its heirs, contempt for ail beneath, Your happy ignorance must better prove, That teaches due contempt for ail above.57 BRITAIN’S SIIAME. —♦— Well mayst thou blush: a fitting anger sits Upon thy burning forehead, to be called A Briton, odious name, that shows thee sunk Below the level of the brutes : ’tis just Thou shouldst despise a country, that is ail Unworthy of thy merit, that can boast An idle player as her chief in song, Or a poor wretch, whom heaven struckblind to show That God a king’s divinity approves And hâtes Republicans ; a land that speaks Without contempt of Bacon’s paltry name ; That dares to reverence a queen who loosed Her country from the fear of generous Spain,58 POEMS. Whom Britain should obey, had right its course ; That vaunts her Cromwell’s greatness, and prefers His vigorous sway, his conquests, and renown* To the inaction of the Second Charles, Who showed the aspiring state her proper rank Beneath legitimate kingdoms : such a land That ail her sons disclaim her, and that none Boast of the name of Briton. Better far Hadst thou been born in some renownéd state More fit to rear thee. Hadst thou been a child Of great Hispania, in her palmier days ! Such were a fitting lot for thee, who seest The vain pretences of unbridled thought : The utter impotence of human minds To solve disputes, is shown thee by thine own. Think then, how sweet to live beneath the yoke Of liberal monarchs, in a priestly land, When ail her subjects were content to own * The reader will of course perceive that these attributes of Cromwell are assigned with the bitterest irony.britain’s shame. 59 Her mild maternai empire, and with zeal Upheld the holy instrument of love* Which led the erring, by persuasion soft, To the dear lap of Christ’s eternal church, * The Holy Inquisition.60 POEMS. A SEA-CHASE. And now the océan glowed with Phœbus’ ray, And on the horizon dawned another day ; Wave after wave danced up, and sank to rest, While sparkling spray-jets played from crest to crest. Hark î from his post the quick masthead-man cries, “ Sail ho ! a vessel to the leeward lies/’ “ Ail hands make sail ! ” the word is passed along, And to the deck confused the seamen throng ; Up shrouds sharp-quivering swift as birds they fly, The topsails fall, the yards ascend on high; On speeds the ship, like arrow from a bow, The parted waters boil about her prow ;A SE A-CHASE. 61 As on each ridge of wave she mounts, how bright Her burnished copper glistens in the light! The chase perceives her, hurrying from afar, Nor waits her coming, and the menaced war ; Her sails are loosed, the seamen at the word Scarce uttered, tighter strain the rigid cord ; Swift mount the creaking yards, the extended sail, Full bellying forth, receives and greets the gale. “ Give her a shot the ready gunners join To upheave the gun, and move the ponderous quoin ; From the gun’s mouth a fierce flash sudden broke, And forth was hurled a cloud of eddying smoke ; The black shot skimming o’er the waters Aies — While from each stricken wave huge foam-spouts rise — Full ’gainst the boom, that, crashing, broke in twain, And showered around its splinters’ deadly rain. A second follows, swift and surely sent, The canvass flaps, the taut-stretched sails are rent,62 POEMS. And thousand ribbons stream from every sail, That with wild efforts flog the mightier gale ; Then fast the shot fly round, above, below ; While hideous rents the battered bulwarks show.63 HOW CAN I LOVE THEE STILLf How can I love thee still, and pine For that wliich might hâve once been mine, And might be now, could I agréé To wed and cherish half of thee ? The gardener, who has watched unclose The bnd that guards his choicest rose, Tends not, should winds the flower destroy, The empty stem with equal joy. And though thy form is still the same As when it lit my earlier flame ; And though thy cheeks retain the blush Impressed by youth with Cupid’s brush ;64 POEMS. Yet on thy mind, that shone more fair Than eyes, or lips, or neck, or hair, (Ail that inspire a lover’s tongue,) When thou wert simple, fresh and young, Traces I see of worldly stains That show thee linked in fashion’s chains And, fashion s slave, thy soûl is drowned In frivolous pleasure’s nightly round. Thy mind it was that made me prize Its blue interpreters, thine eyes ; Thy rosy lips had double worth When richer tlioughts came gliding forth. How can I love those eyes, intent On gathering empty compliment ? Those lips, that only move to speak Of Lady Teazle’s bail next week ?HOW CAN I LOVE THEE STILL ? 6/> As well attend witli anxious view The stalk where once a rosebud grew ; Or haunt in âge with idle tears Where rest the hopes of earliest years. Still, as thou wert, I dream of thee The idol of my memory. Knowing I never may possess That form, I love it not the less. I think of her as sainted maid, Or as a mother’s cherished shade : She whom I loved is dead ; and I Woo her, in dreams, beyond the sky. F66 POEMS. TO A BRIDE. Was I in love with thee, sweet fair ? When first we met, first spoke, From your soft eyes — by them I swear— No flash eleetric broke. I saw not Cupid float above ; Nor felt, in heart or brain, The wild phenomena of love, That youthful poets feign. Yet ’twas with us a joy to meet, Through woodland lanes to rove, Where hours we spent in converse sweet, But never talked of love.TO A BRIDE. 6 False pride, false honour, kept me mute Until the time had flown : I had a day to breathe my suit ; I stayed—and thou wert gone. And I am heartless, marble cold, So keen observera say ; I fire not when brave deeds are told, I smile at woful lay. I ne’er hâve loved, they oft repeat ; Half sadly, half in scorn I smile ; while far my fancies fleet To greet thy bridai morn. Could this be love ? The world says nay, Such love could never be ; If love it were not, Lady, say Why do I dream of thee ? P 268 POEMS. TEE POET’S TEAINING. Poet, could parents select their offsprings’ mental endowments, No one would ask for a lyre, song would départ from the earth. Who’d be a poet’s sire, if at will his son could inherit Talents the problem to solve, how to succeed at the bar ? Candour, zeal for the right, and unimpeachable honour, Ail that should lead him to hide truth in a bot- tomless well.THE POET S TRAINING. 69 Could the unconscious babe be suckled in popular preaching, And at bis mother’s breast weep for the sins of the world, Seeing in infantine trance those ancients who ful- mined o’er England, Shook the pulpit, and swayed mobs of ferocious dissent, Think ye he’d envy the Theban the bees that swarmed in his cradle, Dropped on his lips their balm, worthy to cover the God? Mostly the fathers of poets are only related in body And with the soûls of their sons cannot affinity claim : Even the dullest discern a childhood that promises greatness; Scarcely the wisest can tell how should that promise be trained.70 POEMS. Genius dawns on the face, and the practical father would turn it To a mechanical use, into the ditch of the law. Early the boy goes to school, where he boggies at As in Præsenti, Sharp is the underlihg’s gibe, sharper the peda- gogue’s cane. Clever they call you at home,” at each stroke the flagellant echoes, Flogs him for wishing to sham dulness, and being a dunce. Nought will he learn, and is proved a blockhead by logical process : Parents despairingly muse, “ Where is the pro- mise of youth ?” Lower again: he may make without learning a decent attorney, Or if too stupid to cheat, there is the army at last.THE POET’S TRAINING. 71 Vain, and the blockhead begins to prate about intellects triumphs : Intellect ! he who has ne’er learnt the Greek Grammar by heart ! Rhymings, nonsensical verses, which serve for no earthly profession, Solace the youth in defeats, shock his affec- tionate friends. Kindly, relations advise him to quit his indolent habits, Do his duty in life, earn his ten thousand a-year. Some of his verses are clever ; he cannot be really so stupid ; Others work for their bread ; wherefore should he be exempt ? Go, ye sages, and hush by your logic the niglitin- gale’s warble, Nobody pays for her song ; what is its practical good?72 POEMS. JOHN BULL: A FRIDAY’S HOMILY. Dear Sm, a moment’s pause I beg, A moment for reflection, Before you crack your seventh egg, And half-a-dozenth section. ’Tis now an hour since you began Our country to depreciate, And in your wrath each public man You Ve flasbed your fiery speech at. From this to that so quick you run You might a shooting star be ; And scarce hâve settled Palmerston Before you fly at Derby.JOHN BULL. 73 A Papist justly may be sour On Friday’s meagre diet, For fish and eggs hâve little power The stomach’s cries to quiet. (Well spake a Prince*—’twere sad to lose Perhaps his only sane trait— “ Een corday soom Catolecoos, Hayraytecoos een vayntray.”) But England why should you abuse That Rome prescribes you fasting ? Sure when your hunger Aies, your views Will hardly be more lasting. And who’s John Bull, your spécial fear, ’Gainst whom you shoot such arrows ? Is he the man, to encourage beer, Who puts a tax on Larose ? * These words are attributed to a Spiritual Prince, the Right Reverend Bishop Blougrani, in partibus.74 POEMS. The man who votes on Sabbath day To shut the Crystal Palace, Thinks Sunday music leads the way To Newgate, or the gallows ? Not so : you scarcely care to drink Clos Vougeot, Nuits, or Margaux, On Sunday’s rest you’d never think Of laying an embargo. But your John Bull is he who tells Plain truth, and cannot split hairs ; Who values not sham miracles, At weeping statues titters. A private Bull, each Briton breeds, Some neighbour, or relation, And thinks his neighbour’s wildest deeds Habituai to the nation.JOHN BULL. 75 John Smith is your John Bull, I trow, The Duke of Dazzle’s henchman, So frivolous, that Gauls allow He’s more than half a Frenchman. And he thinks you a perfect Bull,* Nor can from scorn exempt ye With heart of préjudice as full As head of reason empty. Why for your race affect a scorn That you are far from feeling, And hint ’twere better to be born In some Italian shealing ? You would not live ’neath Naples’ law, Nor change to Gaul or German, Nor hail the privilège to draw Free breath by Sultan’s firman.76 POEMS. No, for you hold your birthright dear, And bless our mighty Charter : That freedom written, red and clear, In blood of Koyal Martyr.77 ROME: THE CATACOMBS.' I marvel much that ye can find Such interest in these empty tombs, Who corne with controversial mind To argue in the catacombs, Where, like as he who sin’s first birth With loss of Paradise, read through, And said that it was nothing worth As nothing proving, so with you. Here, these disprove, and those support What Protestant asserts, disowns : Did early Christians here resort That ye should wrangle o’er their bones ?78 POEMS. Ye, whose sole object is to shroud Religion from the naked eye, Pile proof on proof, like cloud on cloud, Till no one can discern the sky, Go, where your tapers redly glare Athwart the incense smoke, and leave Warm hearts the dead’s abode to share And the tomb’s teaching to receive. And ye, the idle insect lierd, Who know not what it is to think, Whose inmost soûl was never stirred By lack of aught save méat and drink ; Who trip with flaring torches past The rows of tombs, and nicely start, When light in grave’s recesses cast Shows dust that was a human heart ;ROME: THE CATACOMBS. 79 Who corne as to a picnic, flirt With wiles, and small-talk, giggling low That fathers may not disconcert By harsh reproof your spirits’ flow ; Go, caper where the soft strains melt, And flutters crinoline in time ; Or from the Corso balcon pelt Your snow-storm sugar-plums of lime.80 POEMS. BOAT SEKENADE. —♦— Lazily dip our quiet oars As we steal away from the silent stores That erst hâve rung with the notes of glee, And re-echoed our heart-felt revelry. Slumbers the wave, but wherever the blade Reluctant a lingering plunge has made, Its path is with flashes of pearl-foam dight, And the sleeping billow springs into light. E’en thus from the slumbering Past, of thee Arises a gleam of memory ; And the meanest sights hâve power to bring Thy form to my nightly imagining.BOAT. SERENADE. 81 Sittest tliou now—’tis the hour of love— On the rock-worked couch in the orange grove, Where from shrub to shrub, with their tiny liglit, The fire-flies Ait through the perfumed night ? O then, when drifts the moon’s pale beam Through trellised boughs on yon babbling stream, And calmly white the effulgence rests On the black rough stones, midst the flashing crests, Think but of me, as away we glide And skim the green sea’s quiet tide, And swiftly dip our sparkling oars As we dart from the shade of the silent shores. $ G82 POEMS. If thou dost love thy Saviour and thy Son With but the love that earthly mothers feel Joined to a ransomed sinner’s gratitude, How must thou weep, to see thy fellow men, Like thee conceived in sin, like thee redeemed, Pour forth their prayers to thee, and at thy shrine Offer their richest love, when He is by Ready to gather ail men to His fold ! What were thy earthly sufferings to these ! Thou saw’st him scourged, insulted, crucified, Thy more than Son, whom thou might hope to see On Israel’s throne : was not the promise great Borne to thy young ear by the angel’s voice ? And now, thou mayst behold Him on a throne That overlooks the heavens, acknowledged King Over ail kings, and yet too little lovecl, Thy self supplanting Him in human hearts.83 I grieved to think that thou wert dead, And couldst the joys no longer share That God upon my life has shed, Or take my little load of care. I wept, for I had wished for famé, To lay a wreath before thy feet, And prattle of a poet’s name As men can lisp in child’s conceit. And then I mused, that, should we meet When doubt’s dread veil was full withdrawn, Freed soûls would love not to repeat Thoughts breathing of their earthly dawn. How could I tell thee what I felt On hearing of thy death, the void That seemed to clasp me like a belt, The memories born with hopes destroyed ? g 284 POEMS. ’Twas this I wept ; and yet this grief, Like ail afflictions sent by God, Brought with its sting its own relief, The kiss that could disarm the rod. The loss of sympathy on earth Told me to turn my thoughts to heaven And thus philosophy drew birth From grief with just intention given.85 WKITTEN AT MUNICH. i. If, as divinest Plato fabled, Jove Cut men in twain, so that the sundered parts Yearn for each other with a mutual love, And beat in unison the severed hearts, Well may I guess why these are Sorrow’s shades ; My other half must be so far removed That every hope of near re-union fades : Time Aies, I love not, and am not beloved. ii. As in a drawing-room pastime, when you near The hunted object, you are said to burn, But to grow cold, when wand’ring from its sphere, And freeze the more at each unlucky turn ; g 386 POEMS. So through the world his soul’s half man pursues, By instinct burning, or congealed with frost, By unseen joy steeped in Elysian dews, Then plunged in sadness for the object lost.87 THE ENGLISH IN HOME. —♦— Well scowls the priest to see those forms arrayed In full development of manly race, The seal of freedom set upon each face, Like the first man in God’s own image made, Growing up here ’neath bigotry’s cold sliade Type of that liberty he would efface And from the whole wide earth blot out its place. So might some Sadducean sexton’s spade Strike at the flowers that spring up from the graves Type of the résurrection from the dead, Denied with lips so bold, yet quivering : Like him, with fainting heart the bigot raves ; Like them, uncrushed shall Liberty upspring, And plant on despots’ necks her steady tread. O 488 POEMS. SAINT SIIAKESPEAEE. (From the German, I believe, if one can judge by internai . evidence.) So placid on the canvass you appear As you might know our longings, and rejoice Thou to the world art but a wandering voice. Thy words are with us, falling on the ear As mountain echoes volley round a mere Till none can tell whence first the Sound arose. Perhaps ’tis better that no record shows Thy real life, lest the brute herd should sneer, Pointing the awkward iinger of its scorn : And lest the few, whom sympathy’s fine taste Has given a love of genius, who hâve trod The path lier feet ’mongst sands and rocks hâve worn, Should in their inmost hearts thy name hâve placed Above ail saints, and second but to God.89 Not regai port, nor pomp of majesty To overawe a nation ; not the look Of supercilious state, that scarce can brook Unshackled loyalty, and curbs each knee Into the dust ; not such the sovereignty To which the proudest nation under heaven Proudly submits : but unto her is given The grâce that knows to govern liberty, That in the weaker sex ail power doth place Over the stronger : firm indeed must be The rule, that on no right divine doth lean, But on the affections of a loyal race ; And well may puny despots start, to see The Mother of her subjects, and the Queen.90 POSAIS. He who should see thee in thy simple dress Busied in lightening care, intent to seek Pleasure for others, and should hear thee speak No jargon of young-lady prettiness, But words of sober meaning, half wcuild guess How thou art loved : but they who know thee, know This and even more, because they love thee so. Nor is this strange, when thou the hearth dost bless With meekness and affection, pure in heart, Purer, more saintly than a meek-eyed Nun : Thy soûl is vowed to heaven, yet art thou sent For human solace : ’tis the better part Than to renounce ail duties, and to shun The tempting world in “ shady cloister” pent.91 ON A WAYSIDE PICTUKE IN THE BODEN-ALPE. Simplicity of faith inspired thy brush, O untaught painter of this picture rude, Which every peasant-passenger has viewed With the designer’s eyes, and prayerful hush. See there the wheels of a huge waggon crush A peasant poorly clad, whose form is lain Prostrate and lifeless ’neath the cumbrous wain ; Around is woodland life ; the torrents gush, Prodigal in devices, from the rifts That yawn ’mongst gloomy fir-woods ; while on high The eye of God with rude effulgence shines, And gazes tireless o’er His bounteous gifts. Beneath, to awake the passer’s sympathy, Huns a short legend, artless as these lines.92 POEMS. ON AN UNKNOWN FRIEND’S VOLUME. ’Tis sweet to hear our footsteps as they fall In music echoed from the peach-specked wall, And sweet to find some song we cherished best Has found an écho in another’s breast. How sweet to open some fresh book, and find Sympathies breathing from a brother-mind, Each love expressed that in our bosom glows, And the deep thoughts, whose life none other knows. The thoughts we vainly laboured to express Here meet the eye in sudden loveliness, So new, yet so familiarly known We almost spring to claim them as our own.93 A CONCEIT. You hâve stolen my heart, and I cannot begrudge thee The treasure of which Tm bereft ; For who’d be so cruel, fair thief, as to judge thee, Or send thee to prison for theft ? But exchange is no robb’ry, the wise hâve con- fessed, And ’tis plain by this saying what they meant ; That, since you hâve stolen my heart from my breast, Your own you should give me in payment.94 POEMS. “Whom the gods love die young,” was said of old, And there is deeper meaning in the phrase Than shows upon the surface ; for the good Are ever young : the virtuous full of years Is far more missed than the young prodigal Who in his few days has condensed the work Of half a century, missed and mourned, as loved, And reckoned on for many years to corne. Who thinks on death thinks only on his own ; We think that those we love will ne ver die, That they even now hâve entered on the life Eternal, and will never taste of death. Or if we speak of others, as included In the same destiny, we scarcely strive To réalisé their loss ; that were too hard, And no one can anticipate the grief“ WHOM. THE GODS LOYE DIE YOUNG.” 95 That others’ deatli will bring him, more than he Who dies can guess the pangs of those he leaves. ’Twould trouble death to know the burst of grief Five minutes hence, when minutes are no more His prized possessions ; and ’twould trouble life To know how one friend’s loss will wring the mind. That were to lose the loved one many times, As cowards die. What if you dream of deaths, The joy of waking cancels ail the pain You felt in those long years that passed last night With ail the vividness of présent life While sleep oppressed you, but, when day returned, With ail the dreaminess of childhood’s woe.96 POEMS. We never know the value of a life Save b y the price we pay for losing it. “ ’Tis nought, ’tis nought,” says Death, and chaffers long With our affections ; then he goes his way Boasting how easy he has gained one more ; How small the care of friends until too late ; And now what clamours ring upon his ear, Reproaches on his cruelty, that show How cheaply he has bought how dear a life. Vain murmurs at irrevocable fate, So he would teach, and talk in cynic tone Of luxury of grieving as a sin, For God decreed us death, and to repine At death is questioning His ordinance : Grief cannot bring again the mourn’d ; ’tis idle.WE NEVER KNOW THE VALUE OF A LIFE. 97 Grief cannot bring again the mourn’d ; and yet Grief for the dead awakes a deeper love For the surviving, so that out of tears Grows up a new affection : there is ever Some one we love as cherished b y the dead, And death but doser draws the bands of life. Thus love repeats itself, a legacy From dead to living, lest when one were gone His love were buried with him, and the heart, Bereaved of what was loved, should in despair Lose love itself ; as he who has embarked His treasures in the search of some one pearl, Which losing, he resigns the wealth he stored To fit a venture for this one desire. H98 POEMS. THE RETURN FROM TIIE TOME. —+— [The idea of this poem is taken almost entirely from a picture on the same subject by Flatz, a German artist, résident in Rome, wbo is as superior to Overbeck in his execution, as he is in his choice of original subjects. Flatz is especially praiseworthy for deserting the hackneyed stories of saints for the richer and less trodden records of Scripture, and even more praiseworthy for representing the Virgin in her relations to Our Lord rather than in her modem phase of Queen of Heaven, and Goddess of Rome.] Then they returned togetlier from the grave With the dull step of sorrow, wearied out And cheated of its first intensity, Stealing a solace from each other’s tears, And changing glances that spoke more than words ; Then in the dreary chamber sat them downTHE RETURN FROM THE TOMB. 99 Their thoughts recurring to the guarded stone By which the soldiers bayed their scraps of song. Suddenly from one corner came a burst Of concentrated anguish, deep pressed sobs Such as ’twould break a woman’s heart to utter, Ending in moans, when ail life’s breath was spent ; Until at last the fount of tears was dried, And words came forth, to stimulate afresh The exhausted fountains ; then John, whispering, said, “ ’Tis Peter,” and they, stealing, found him there, The hard, cold-hearted fisherman, so rapt In agony, their presence passed unseen. “’Tis not his death—although the loss I feel Too great for réparation—that I grieve : ?Tis not the suffering, nor the cruel woe, The gibes and taunts of a rude soldiery, The ignominious slaughter of the cross, — These are so many glories, as the crown Of thorns a chaplet of eternal bloom,—100 POEMS. But that I, I so favoured, whom he gave Sucli charge, such privilège, for whom he prayed That my faith fail not, should hâve thrice denied him ; That in one hour, when my chilled body shrunk From fear of torture, in the dead recoil That followed my excitement when I struck The high priest’s servant with the whetted sword, Heart-sick, and almost doubting if I woke, I uttered faint déniai, followed up By stern asseveration, as I saw Repeated insult heaped upon the Christ, Nor once resented by that mild regard. Could I hâve spoken thus ? It was a dream, So faintly dwells its picture on my brain ; The fresh young damsel, half compassionate, Half curious, scarcely willing to awake The general rage against me, yet urged on By wonder, if this man were one of them, Silent at my déniai for a while,THE RETÜRN FROM THE TOMB 101 Till fresh suggestions came, and louder words Wrought to the height of rage ; then the cock’s shrill Harsh peal, as of the final trumpet, woke me To a full sense of my sin’s black abyss And hiskind look, that but to think on . . Tears Welled forth again, till John, with cheerful look And smile of hope, accosted him, and said, “ ’Tis but to try our faith that he is gone : Remember what he told us ; in three days The gates of Death unclose, and yield him up.” 44 Yes, but will that wipe out my sinfulness ? He will forgive, and yet the guilt remains. The sting of sin lies in its memory, And such a sin is cancelled but with life. How may I hope for martyrdom, or dare To teach his Gospel, and spread wide liis light ? Now I despair of my apostleship, And could resign me to the harsh advice 4 Back to your nets, and let religion rest102 POEMS. In the skilled hands of God-sent ministers ; With ail the learning of the Pharisees And ail the orthodoxy of the Scribes To testify against you, and your Head Slain by the law, what do ye teaching us ? Who made ye guides and rulers over us ? ’ ”103 ODE TO TENUS. + I grieve as some true son of France, Who’d feel in his heart’s very core a Pang of regret, if haste or chance Should make him miss the Maison Dorée. And though the error scarce was mine, Yet am I worthy thy abhorrence ; For twice Pve failed to seek thy shrine, And twice Pve passed through lovely Florence. Yet, as the Frenchman’s soûl is brisk Whene’er his o’ertaxed thoughts can roam on The future carte, the potage bisque, And the soft dreams of truffes and saumon, h 4104 POEMS. That throng about the brain, and set His sleeping man a-smacking the lips In slumber visiting Vachette, And hovering o’er the plats at Philippe’s ; So, Goddess, do I sit and dream Of future worship to thy statue, And my mind’s eye at least doth seem Rapt with perpétuai gazing at you. I fled moreover from the place Of Dante’s love, before I stole a Glance at your Raphael’s sweetest face, Madonna délia Seggiola, Whose prints hâve scarce prepared my taste For the original : thus I viewed you Through the cold medium of a cast In your new high-priest Gibson’s studio ;ODE TO VENUS. 105 Where lives your other person, warm With flesh whose veins run purest ichor, Fed on ambrosia, tipt and form Too fair that human flesh were like lier : — But I reserve my raptures till I gaze upon thee, thee impersonate, Bow to thy altar in a thrill Of bliss, and hang a hymnal verse oi> it.106 POEMS. PEO BONO PUBLICO. —♦— Our neighbour had an eagle in his grounds Tied to a peg, upon a lawn, with sun And shade at hand, that during half the day Sat cowering low with filmy eyes, and wings That flapped at times with a dead empty sound. Across the road, in our one field that looked With little envy at the rich domain, Grazed an old donkey with contented calm. One afternoon we left the village school As work was over, when the teacher, hoarse From deep bass intonation of a prayer, Had grunted the Dismiss with half a groan, And the boys, diving ’twixt my legs to scapePRO BONO PUBLICO. 107 Invoked pursuit, went thronging to admire The bird that erst bore Ganymede aloft, Jove’s bird, how fallen, as the ancient creed That gave him domination in the air. Silent they stood awhile with gaping mouths, Pent breath, till wondering at their wondering The ass ceased grazing, and pricked out his ears. Then rose the eagle from his peg, and soared Unto the utmost limit of his chain, There hovered for awhile, as if content Nor seeking greater scope, then dashed him down Upon the ground, as though he meant to ’light ; But there, unable to repress his ire, And ail unwilling, tore the yielding turf With bloody talop, till the gazing boys Censorious, cried that he was killing worms Whose slaughter outraged their humanity. Then, when their cries brought only greater rage, Yolleys of stones went whizzing round the bird That screamed and menaced, till the owner came108 POEMS. With haste, and powdered servants loosely girt, Who bore the culprit from his judges’ eyes. Meanwhile the philosophie ass stood still, Sucking deep morals from that strange display Of injured innocence ; till now the boys, Who had just struck a bird for being prone To wrath and violence, to carry out Their principle, came round him, and anew With cries and hissings strove to raise his wrath. ’Twas vain : and volleys brought the same resuit. Then as they went to birds’-nest, one who leaned Against the rail told us how well those boys Stood for the public, “ grown-up children they, As logical as these. I like to think That yonder eagle and this ddnkey here Hâve each their prototype : the eagle went, Smarting from their injustice, to Eavenna, And thence to Greece, and died there ; while the ass With unmoved calmness stayed at Rydal Mount.”PKO BONO PUBLICO. 109 “For shame, Sir!” cried my comrade, who was steeped In Wordsworth out and in, knew none but him, A pure Wordsworthianess, but sweet and fair Wortby his song : “For shame, Sir ! He an ass ?” Then as one lets a river on his meads Crowding the runnels, so the stranger loosed The floodgates of extemporaneous rhyme. “ Balaam’s Ass having spoken, found speaking so pleasant That it asked for the gift of locution incessant ; But compromised that to commuting its bray To speaking whene’er it had something to sa y. “ One day this good servant, that never did fail him, Came galloping up to the wonder of Balaam, And burst forth : ‘ I wish you would make it a rule, That none should say Ass, when they mean to say Fool.110 POEMS. “ We donkeys are not the most stupid of créatures, ’Tis patience, not dulness, that’s writ on our features : Since speech was allowed me, what things hâve you heard ? Hâve I ever uttered one frivolous Word ? You call a man Ass though he doesn’t eat thistles, Though he hasn’t four legs, with hoofs swifter than missiles, Though his hide is not thick, and his ears are not long, And Word s, ’stead of brayings, proceed from his tongue. To bring our race low, this a scandalous dodge I call ; O Lords of Création, be somewhat more logical ; I—9 but here the voice stopped ; the complaint had been made, And superfluous comments might only be brayed.PRO BONO PUBLICO. 111 “ 6 But b y that beast’ ” (when he had taken breath Grave lie resumed) “ ‘ the old Ægyptians Were wont to figure, in their hieroglyphics, Patience, frugality, and fortitude.’* The words are an old dramatisas, not mine, And you, who value Rydal’s bard, must know What love he bore to yon despised kind. ’Tis no humiliation to be ranked With those you value, and the shallow sneer May be a higlier compliment than aught That laboured panegyric can devise.” Ben Jonson. (The Poetaster, Act Y.)POEMS EDMUND FOESTER BLANCHARD. I115 COKPSE-LIGHT. SUGGESTED BY BROWNING’s “ MADHQUSE-CELL.” You say ’tis morn ? It must be night— You could not see me were it day— For sun would dissipate the light That loiters o’er a corpse’s clay, And frighten my dear love away, When first she came she kept within This prostrate house of grass and mould Twelve days ; and I, who wisbed to win Her new love, who possessed the old, Fancied her love for me grown cold. I did not chide her—she was dead, Shut in with many an osier rod, i 2116 POEMS. And one stone standing on her head. But when that stone sank in the sod She almost flickered up to God. But as the twelfth day grew to dark I felt the sunken house-top warm— Then flitted forth a feeble spark That faintly took the fragile form Of her I loved. But soon a storm Burst through the white-walled town. She shook And sighed—a sigh that sang my name,— Flung me a disunited look ; And surely I was not to blâme, For turning, like herself, to flame. Because I must be always near To see my love doth not take flight To Heaven, for Heaven’s my only fear. We like our lurid dance, flame-light. I thank God it is always night, That I may look deep through her eyes, Twin infant moons that on me beam,CORPSE-LIGHT. 117 And gaze below to see what lies Beneath lier breast. A panting gleam Her heart is now ; a sunlit stream Her blood — her blood that flowed so free When she was slain : and for twelve days I could not understand why she Was so indifferent to my gaze. But then I found the best of ways. I simply severed one small vein, Watched m y own life-blood dripping bright : ’Twas over— it was scarcely pain ; And then we clasped each other tight, And thanked God it was always night. i 3118 POEMS. AN UNPREMEDITATED LOVE-LETTER. How shall I tell her of my love ? The story of a passion weave, In hopes a kindred chord may move, As Coleridge sang to Geneviève? How shall I tell her of my fears ? Confess my fiâmes for one above Ail hope, like Valence* ; and, through tears, Let her, like Colombe*, learn my love. Ah, no ! I cannot trust the poet’s page. If good, the song, not singer, will engage Colombe’s Birthday.—Browning.AN UNPREMEDITATED LOVE-LETTER. 119 Her love. If bad, lier reason will présidé Over her heart, — and mine will ne’er abide In that dear tranquil temple, where I fancy Myself absorbed by such sweet necromancy, That I there might lie forever, Whispering one little word, With that dulceting forever Felt in écho—but unheard. Gladly would I burn my books, If I could but trust my looks ; But my cheek whenever near hers Burns sufficiently to sear hers. And a flutter at the heart Makes my lips forget their part Of interprétation—kissing Is their heaven—thereby missing The deep, dignified composure, Requisite for love’s disclosure.120 POEMS. Droop-wingèd sorrow she has shown At times—perchance her heart has nigh Opened to love—alas ! unknown To love, who passed unburning by. So might a virgin violet sigh For some bee, prematurely blown — Mourning an unregarded cup Dew-filled, for love long garnered up, Nor able to reclose, will die, Too weak, too wise, to live alone. What if this be truth ? The bee Deceived, deceiving, might be me. At once—ah ! not another day— Could I interpret but the way. Let poets* fancies sink to rest, Ail plans are wisest—which then best ? The blossom bears an equal worth Whether produced from vase or earth.AN UNPREMEDITATED LOVE-LETTER. 121 And if I say, “I love,” such fashion Should not detract from purest passion, Which cannot more nor less be made However it may be displayed. But there’s another way to enter That heart—these doubtings to présent her.122 POEMS. AT EIEST SIGHT. So old a story, and tell it no better ? ” Browning, Pippa passes. No shadow in the sunshine, No ripple on the rill ; No wind, to waft from Heaven The lark’s ecstatic trill ; No violet by the brook-side Suggests a violet eye ; No dappled foxglove* pealeth A fairy lullaby. The foxglove cluster dappled bells.”—Tennyson.AT FIRST SIGHT. 123 The daisy bows in worship, Its humble, trusting head Beneath my feet ; then startles From my retreating tread. The crisp, impatient crocus, With yellow, birdlike bill, I crush till it resembles The yellow daffodil. Such, yesterday, my humour— My unobservant mind ; No unawakened heart hears The music of the wind. I saw not that these flowers Were emblems of the fates— Of yielding, striving loyers, With striving, yielding mates. Unconscious of the violet, Thine eyes from me concealed,—124 POEMS. No sentiment in snowdrops, Thy grâces unrevealed. In ignorance most moonlike Of ail that passion tells, I knew not that the foxglove Could murmur marriage-bells. But having gazed upon thee, I see ail kindred grâce ; In flowers’ translucent beauties Reflected is thy face ; The lark’s song falls upon me In trembles from above, A clear voice with which mingles The deep tones of thy love.125 TO WHOM? PEEHAPS IN IMITATION OF SIR JOHN SUCKLING. I once did wonder why her eyes—sweet pair— So restless were ; Why had the brows that over those eyes ran Such perfect span ; And why her locks, so like the yellow light, Did curl so tight. But, loving her, I now the reason see, And tell to thee : In every feature — eyes, eyebrows, and hair,— A lover’s there ; And when I comprehend each feature’s case, Tm in its place.126 POEMS. Fond eyes do rove about that they may greet Each neighb’ring sweet ; Proud eyebrows make, to cover sunlike marches, Triumphal arches ; The jealous curls crisp that each curl may kiss Her cheek—I wis.127 WINTEB THOUGHTS. A snowdrop lay in snow upon the ground— To men the merest flower. A passing poet paused, and found The emblem of an hour. As wavelets crest to gaze upon the sea For love’s companionship, The snowdrop looked around the lea To find a lover’s lip. To see but white flakes on the mirror, Earth, The saddened snowdrop sighed ; And knowing not the snow gave birth To other flowers—died.128 POEMS. The earth was piercèd with the sigh above A crocus, with one bound, Leapt up to light, prepared to love — And crisping petals found. Likewise in ignorance of Nature’s law, The crocus left the strife, And died. A passing poet saw An emblem of ail Life.129 TOUJOURS PERDRIX. —♦— Do not, do not. Pli not be loved, If every hour your love be proved. My heart, in ecstasy once moved, You would for ever doom to dance. What wonder if from you it roved If you each moment make it glanee Ail ways ? Why not in straight advance ? It tires, it tires, of sueh romance. Mine eyes, their light ; my lips, their breatli ; My breast, the heart that bounds beneath ; K130 POEMS. My soûl, the flesh that is its sheath — Each movement, fragment, of my frame, You say demands immédiate death ! Death ? That the sequel of love’s flame Of love you give me but the name. I’m yours—and you’d die ail the same.131 * TO AN UTTEK STRANGER. It cannot be said IVe no love Because I’ve no sighs ; Believe me not utterly blind, For sligbting jour eyes. No violet,—purple, not red,— Can rival their hue ; Maria’s are hazel, you know— Well, hazel will do. I will not deny that your hair Is black as the wings Of ravens—Em tired of ravens — The troublesome things. K 2132 POEMS. Maria’s is certainly auburn, Whatever y ou say— Rich colour that runs little risk Of changing to gray. And though it appears that her lips Are not stung by bees*, The kisses they’ll possibly give Will equally please. I cannot prétend to assert Her teeth to be pearls— Her locks to be hyacinth leaves— They’re curls—simply curls. And down where they nestle below Her unswanlike neck, A bosom that’s not alabaster They happily deck. The light heart that’s dancing beneath That breast, gives me life ; In allusion to Suckling’s celebrated piece of unpleasant- ness.TO AN UTTER STRANGER. 133 The lips mutter merely one word— Sweet sentiment—wife. It cannot be said I’ve no heart Because it won’t break— Life or soûl, because I décliné To die for your sake. K 3134 POEMS. IRRESISTIBLE. It is not because of your eyes, With love in their looks ; It is not because we both read, Ail day, tbe same books : It is not because of your soûl, A little like mine ; Nor is it because you’re a girl Remarkably fine : It is not because we both meet So often by stealth ; Tm certain it is not because Fm wanting your wealth. I ofier my hand—not my heart — But never mind tbat—IRRESISTIBLE. 135 ’Tis another’s, and does not possess Nine lives, like a cat. Some think that the hand and the heart Together should go ; But really that custom has grown Excessively low. t My reason for courting the god— The party with wings— Is simply because he suggests Respectable things. So, Julia, we’ll settle l’affaire In orthodox style — The offer I’ve made—now you need Do nothing but smile. I think you should ask your papa— The regular way— And — Julia—just tell whatVhis-name To saddle my gray.POEMS. WEITTEN TO MUSIC. O leave unshed that needless tear — O leave unsung that useless sigh ; Tis not in April of life’s year, Our dearest joys are doomed to die. Young hearts should noto’er sorrows grieve No sighs half-budded harebells heave ; Sweet eyes sad tears should not disclose— No dewdrop ’s in the unfolded rose. ’Tis true that Sorrow cornes at last, Born^in the brimming liands of Age ; Then brightest eyes are overcast, And gentlest brows grow sad and sage.WRITTEN TO MUSIC. 13 The reddest lips then pallid show, As fields are silvered with the snow. Yet through the leafless winter tree A clearer space of Heaven we see.138 POEMS. AGAIN TO MUSIC. ’Tis vain to ask again my heart ; • More vain to ask again my hand : Thy love which once could joy impart No more can bind mine in its band. Thy contrite tears can not repay For that content you took away. My angered heart is cold and dead To that you thought it forfeited. That Honour, which you fancied flown, Has so increased within my breast, That ail my love for thee has grown To naught—for want of room to rest.AGAIN TO MUSIC. 139 But though mine Honour keepeth out * Thy love, yet sorrow cornes about ; And thy despair must mine redress, In penitence and loneliness.140 POEMS. * YET AGAIN TO MUSIC. + i. 0 turn not thus thine eyes away— O cast me not in shade. Speak not—thy lips, unseen, would slay The music that they made. And let thine eyes no ray reveal That may not mine illume, For, left without their light, I feel A moonless midnight gloom. And see, how yonder starry skies Make ail beneath more bright— Then gaze upon me with thine eyes, And see me by their light.YET AGAIN TO MUSIC. 141 IL Thy brilliant eyes more brilliant make The flowers on which they shine ; The blushing buds gold glories take, The fountain flingeth wine. As sun-tints, when you smile, suffuse The bluebell’s white extreme, O dearest, to my heart diffuse An oriental beam. And see, how yonder starry skies Make ail beneath more bright— Then burst upon me with thine eyes, And love me by their light.142 POEMS. ONCE MOKE TO MUSIC. How can those lips, where mine, last eve, were clinging, Now calmly tell a taie of vanished love ? Thine eyes, last eve, their starlike flashes flinging, This morn now cold as starless heaven above ! How can thy heart, that bounded at my pressure, Now ’neath my touch, but beat with Time’s slow sand ? Like magic hazels finding gold, the treasure Knows not the nearness of my conscious hand. If thy lips would but kiss once more, believe me— Thine eyes be bright—thy heart dance for my sake—ONCE MOBE TO MUSIC. 143 ’T would soothe the pain when I—ah ! must I leave thee ? ’Twould ease a breaking heart—ah! must it break ? No, let me think the heavens you still resemble, Though ail day starless, still the starry nest. And at deep midnight let thy light charms tremble And fall, and fill with love my languid breast.144 POEMS. EXPLANATION. “ ’Gad, if the Interpréter isn’t the harder to be understood of the two.”—Sheridan. Oh what reward is given for writing verse : Is it its own exceeding great reward ? Can there be compensation for the curse Of writing thoughts which very few regard ; That stain the page’s mirror as they pass, Like life’s last breath upon a polished glass ? “What is a sonnet?” “Fourteen lines.” Ah, well ! And Shakspeare, Wordsworth, Keats, Elizabeth,EXPL ANATION. 147 (The “ Portuguese, ”) who are they ? Fewcan tell If they are living or are lost in death. And most, if asked the mystery to unravel, Would ask, in answer, “ For what house they travel?” It is not difficult to understand Why this should be, though difficult to explain. A poem, like a glove upon the hand, Should be a perfect fit. The reader’s brain, Heart, blood, and tempérament for the time Should be like his who built the lofty rhyme. To read, you want a kindred inspiration With him who wrote—as love for love is given, Or love is incomplète. A twin sensation, In which the poet first soars into Heaven. To him the laurels, like the lands, belong — But still they share the sweetness of the song. L148 POEMS. And inspiration will not last for ever ; Therefore a poem should compress its strength, And, like the loved ones of the Grods, who ne ver Live long, should not make weak its soûl in length. Regardless of the unthinking, poems ought To indicate, not follow, trains of thought. Right men and places are not less allied Than books and those into whose hands they fall. Abandoned men might hâve been deified By millions, who, alas, heard not the call. In love—best illustration—it is so : Keats died from an unconscious maiden’s blow. Why writers and their readers disagree ? Because most minds hâve one part prominent. Didactic poems by no means suit me, Nor are ail minds on lighter matters bent. For me — I only see around, above, Beneath, past, présent, future, “ Love, still love.”EXPLANATION. 149 You see, I wish it to be understood Why I expect but little pleasing praise — Possibly comments in a different mood. They will not darken my contented days. Enough it is for me to know that I— These lines—shall be lit up by one blue eye. turb j THE END.London : Printed by Spottiswoode & Co. New-street Square.A CATALOGUE OP NEW WORKS IN GENERAL LITERATÜRE, PÜBLISHED BY LONGMAN,BROWN, GREEN, and LONGMANS, 39, PATERNOSTER ROW, LONDON. CLASSIFIED INDEX. Agriculture and Rural Affairs. Pages Bayldon on Valuing Rents, etc. . . 6 Caird’s Letters on Agriculture ... 7 Cecil’s Stud Farm.......................7 Loudon’s Encyclopædia of Agriculture . 14 Low’s Eléments of Agriculture . . 14 „ Domesticated Animais . . . 14 Arts, Manufactures, and Architecture. Arnott on Ventilation .... 5 Bourne on the Screw Propeller . . 6 Brande’s Dictionary of Science, etc. . 6 Chevreul on Colour......................8 Cresv’s Encyclo. of Civil Engineering . 8 Eastlake on Oil Painting .... 8 Gwilt’s Encyclopædia of Architecture . 9 Jameson’s Sacred and Legendary Art . 11 „ Commonplace Book . . 11 Loudon’s Rural Architecture . . .14 Moseley’s Engineering and Architecture 17 Richardson’s Art of Horsem&nship . . 19 Scrivenor on the Iron Trade . . .19 Stark’s Printing.......................22 S team Engine, by the Artisan Club . 6 Tate on Strengtn of Materials . . 21 Ure’s Dictiouary of Arts, etc. . .23 Biography. Arago’s Autobiography .... 22 ,, Lires ofScientific Men . . 5 Bodenstedt and Wagner’s Schamyl . 22 Brightwell’s Memorials of Opie .17 Buckingham’s (J. S.) Memoirs . . 6 Bunsen’s Hippolytus .... 6 Clinton’s (Fynes) Autobiography . . 8 Cockayne's Marsnal Turenne . . .22 Dennistoun’s Strange and Lumisden . 8 Forster’s De Foe and Churchill . . 22 Haydon’s Autobiography, by Tom Taylor 10 Hayward’s Chesterfield and Selwyn . . 22 Holcroft’s Memoirs.....................22 Holland’s (Lord) Memoirs . . .10 Lardner’s Cabinet Cyclopœdia . . 13 Maunder’s Biographieal Treasury . . 15 Memoir of the Duke of Wellington . 22 Memoirs of James Montgomery . . 16 Merivale’s Memoirs of Cicero . . 16 Russell’s Memoirs of Moore . . . 17 „ Life of Lord William Russell . 19 Southey's Life of Wesley . . .21 South ey’s Life and Conespondence Stephen’s Ecclesiastical Biography Taylor’s Loyola . . . „ Wesley .... Townsend’s Eminent Judges . . Waterton’s Autobiography and Essaya Wheeler’s Life of Herodotus . « Pages . 21 . 21 . 21 . 21 23 24 Books of General Utility. Acton’s Modem Cookery Book . . 5 Black’* Treatise on Brewing ... 5 Cabinet Gazetteer........................7 ,, Lawyer.............................7 Cust’s Invalid’s Own Book ... 8 Gilbart’s Logic for the Million . . 9 Hints on Etiquette......................10 How to Nurse Sick Children . . .10 Hudson’s Executor’s Guide . . .11 „ On Making Wills ... 11 Kesteven’s Domestic Medicine . .12 Lardner’s Cabinet Cyciopædia . . .13 Maunder’s Treasury of Knowledge . 16 „ Biographieal Treasury . .15 ,, S cientific Treasury . .13 ,, Treasury of History . . 16 ,, Natural History . . . 16 Piscator’s Cookery of Fish . . .18 Pocket and the Stud . . . .19 Pycroft’s English Reading . . .18 Reece’s Medical Guide .... 18 Rich’s Companion to Latin Dictionary . 18 Riddle’s Latin Dictionaries . . .19 Richardson’s Art of Horsemanship . 19 Roget’s English Thésaurus . . .19 Rowton’s Debater........................19 Short Whist.............................20 Thomson’s Interest Tables . . .23 Webster's Domestic Economy . . 23 West on Children’s Diseases . . .24 Willich’s Popular Tables ... 24 Wilmot’s Blackstone’* Commentaries . 24 Botany and Gardening. Conversations on Botany . Hooker’s British Flora .... „ Guide to Kew Gardens ., „ Kew Muséum . Lindley’s Introduction to Botany . ,, Theory of Horticulture . Loudon’sHortusBritannicus . . ,, (Mrs.) Amateur Gardener ,, Encyclopædia of Trees&Shrubs „ „ Gardening . » »» Plants . . 10 10 10 12 12 14 14 14 Loudon: Printed by M. Masoi«, Ivy Lane, Paternoster Row.2 CLASSIFIED INDEX. Pages Pereira’s Materia Medica . . . . 18 Rivers’s Rose Amateures Guide . .19 Wilson’s British Mosses . . • . 34 Chronology. Blair’s Chronological Tables ... 6 Bunsen’s Ancient Egypt .... 7 Haydu’s Beatson’s Index . . . .10 Jacquemet’s Chronology . . . .11 Johns and Nicolas’s Calendar of Victory 12 Nicolas’s Chronology of History . . 13 Commerce and Mercantile Affaire. Francis On Life Assurance • . . 9 „ Stock Exchange .... 9 Lorimer's Letters to aYoungMaster Mariner 12 M'Culloch’s Commerce and Navigation . 15 MacLeod’s Banking 15 Scrivenor on the Iron Trade . .19 Thomson^ Interest Tables . . .23 Tooke’s History of Prices . . .23 Criticism, History, and Mémoire. Austin’s Germany 5 Blair’s Chron. and HistoricalTables . 6 Bunsen’s Ancient Egypt ... 7 „ Hippolytus .... 6 Burton’s History of Scotland ... 7 Conybeare and Howson’s St. Paul . . 8 Eastlake’s History of Oil Painting . 8 Erskine’s History of India ... 9 Francis’s Annals of Life Assurance ’ . 9 Gleig’s Leipsic Campaign . . .22 Gurney’s Historical Sketches ... 9 Hamilton’s Discussions in Philosophy, etc. 10 Haydon’s Autobiography, by Tom Taylor 10 Holland’s (Lord) Whig Party ... 10 Jeffrey’s (Lord) Contributions . . 11 Johns and Nicolas’s Calendar of Victory 12 Kemble’s Anglo-Saxons in England . 12 Lardner’s Cabinet Cyclopsedia • .13 Macaulay’s Crit. and Hist. Essaya . .14 », History of England . .14 „ Speeches . . . . 14 Mackintosh’s Miscellaneous Works . 15 History of England . . 15 M‘Culloch's Geographieal Dictionary . 15 Martineau’s Church History . . .15 Maunder’s Treasury of History . .16 Memoir of the Duke of Wellington . 22 . Merivale’s History of Rome . . .16 ,, Roman Republic . • .16 Milner's Church History . . ... 16 Moore’s (Thomas) Memoirs, etc. . . 17 Mure’s Greek Literature . . . .17 Raikes’s Journal 18 Ranbe’s Ferdinand and Maximilian . . 22 Rich’s Companiou to Latin Dictionary . 18 Riddle’s Latin Dictionaries . . .19 Rogers’s Essaya from Edinburgh Review 19 Roget’s English Thésaurus . . .19 Russell's (LadyRachel) Letters . .19 ,, Life of Lord William Russell . 19 St. John’s Iudiau Arcliipelago . . .19 Schmitz’s History of Greece . . .19 Smith’s Sacred Annals . . . .20 Southey’sThe Doctoretc. . . .21 Stephen’s Ecclesiastical Biography . 21 », Lectures on Frencn History . 21 Sydney Smith’s Works .... 20 ,, Select Works . . 22 ,, Lectures ou Moral Philosopby 21 M Memoirs 20 Pages Taylor’s Loyola 21 „ Wesley . . . . .21 Thirlwall’s History of Greece « » .21 Townsend’s State Trials . . ... 23 Turkey and Christendom . . .22 Turner’s Auglo-Saxons . . . » 23 „ Middle Ages .... 23 ,, Sacred History of the World . 23 Vehse’s Austrian Court . ... 23 Whitelocke’s Swedish Embassy . .24 Youug’s Christ of History . . .24 Geography and Atlases. Arrowsmith’s Geog. Dict. of Bible . . 5 Butler’s Geography and Atlases . • 7 Cabinet Gasetteer 7 Cornwall,its Mines, Seenery, etc. . 22 Durrieu’s Morocco . . . .• .22 Hughes’s Australien Colonies . . • 22 Johnston*» General Gazetteer . . .12 M‘Culloch’s Geographieal Dictionary . 15 ,, Russie and Turkey • .22 Milner’s Baltic Sea . ... * 16 i, Crimes .16 Mur ray’s Encyclopédie of Geography . • 17 Sharp’» British Gazetteer . ... 20 Wheeler’s Geography of Herodotus « 24 Javenile Books. Amy Herbert 19 Cleve Hall: . 20 Earl’s Daughter (The) • . # . 20 Expérience of Life ... #■ . 20 Gertrude a • 20 Gilbart’s Logic for the Young . « • 9 Howitt’s Boy’s Country Book . • .11 „ (Mary) Children’» Year • .11 Katharine Ashton . . . . . 20 Laneton Parsonage . . . « . 20 Mrs. Marcet’s Conversations • • .15 Margaret Percival ..... 20 Pycroft’s English Reading . . • 18 Medicine and Surgery. Brodie’s Psychological Inquiries . . 6 Bull’8 Hints to Mothers .... 6 „ Management of Children . . 6 Copland’s Dictionary of Medicine • .8 Cust’s Invalid’s Own Book ... 8 Holland’s Mental Physiology . « • 10 How to Nurse Sick Children . „ . 10 Kesteven’s Domestic Medicine . .12 Latham On Diseases of the Heart . .14 Moore On Health, Disease» and Remedy . 16 PereiraOu Food and Diet . , .18 ,, Materia Medica . . . .18 Reece’s Medical Guide . . . .18 West on the Diseases of Infancy . . 24 Miscellaneous and General Literature. Austin’s Sketches of Germait Life . . 5 Carlisie’s Lectures and Addresses . . 22 Defence of Eclipte of Faith ... 8 Eclipse of Faith . . . . . 8 Greg’s Essays on Political and Social Science 9 Hassall ou Adultération of Food . .10 Haydu’s Book of Dignities . . .10 Hollaud’s Mental Physiology . . .10 Hooker’s Kew Guide . ... 10 Howitt’s Rural Life of England . . 11 ,, Visits toRemarkable Places . 11 Jameson’s Commonplace Book . . Il Jeffrey’s (Lord) E&says . . . .11 Last of the Old Squires ... .17to Mbssbs. LONGMAN and Co.’s CATALOGUE. 3 Page* Macaulay’s Critical and Historical Essaya 14 ,, Speeche*........................14 Mackintosh’s (Sir J.) Miscellaneous Works 15 Martineaû’s Miscellanies . ... 15 Memoir8 of a Maître d’Armes . . 22 Maitland’s Chnrch in the Catacombs • 15 Pascal’s Works, by Pearce . . .18 Pycroft’s English Reading . . . 18 Rich’s Compauion to Latin Dictionary . 18 Riddle's Latin Dictionaries . . . 19 Rowton’s Debater.......................19 Seaward's Narrative of his Shipwreck . 19 Sir Roger De Coverley . . . .20 Smith’s (Rev. Sydney) Works . • .20 Southey's Common*Place Books • .21 ,, Doctor . ... 21 Souvestre’s Attic Philosopher . .22 ,, Confessions of a Working Man 22 Spencer’s Priuciples of Psychology . 21 Stephen’s Essaya.......................21 Stow’s Training System . . . .21 Tagart on Locke’s Philosophy . . .21 Thomsou’s O ut line of the Laws of Thought 23 Townsend’s State Trials . ... 23 Willich’s Popular Tables . ... 24 Yonge’s English Greek Lexicon • .24 ,, Latin Gradua . . . .24 Zumpt’s Latin Grammar . . . .24 Natural History in General. Catlow’s Popular Conchology . . .7 Ephemera and Young ou the Salmon . 9 Gosse’s Natural History of Jamaica . 9 Kemp’s Natural History of Création . 22 Kirby and Spence’s Entomology . .12 Lée’s Eléments of Natural History . 12 Manu on Reproduction ... .15 Mauuder’8 Treasury of Natural History . 16 Torton’a Shellsof theBritishislands . 23 Waterton’s Essaya on Natural History . 23 Youatt’s The Dog . ... 24 ,, The Horse....................24 1-Volume Encyclopædias and Dictionaries. Arrowsmith’s Geog. Dict. of the Bible . 5 Blaine’s Rural Sports .... 6 Braude’sScience, Literature,and Art . 6 Copland’s Dictionary of Medicine . . 8 Cresy’s Civil Engineering ... 8 Gwilt’s Architecture..................9 Johuston’sGeographicalDictiouary . 12 Loudon’s Agriculture . . « . 14 , , Rural Architecture . .14 ,, Gardening .... 14 ,, Plants......................14 ,, Trees and Shrubs . . .14 M'Culloch’sGeographical Dictionary . 15 ,, Dictionary of Commerce* . 15 Murray’s Eucyclopœdia of Geography . 17 Sharp’s British Gazetteer .... 20 Ure’s Dictionary of Arts, etc. . . .23 Webster’sDomestic Economy . .23 Religions and Moral Works. Amy Herbert............................19 Arrowsmith’s Geog. Dict. of the Bible . 5 Blooinfield’sGreekTestaments . . 6 ,, Annotations ou ditto . . 6 Bode’s Bampton Lectures .... 6 Calvert’s Wife’s Manual .... 7 Cleve Hall ....... 20 Conybeare’s Essays ..... 8 Couybeare and Howson’s St. Paul . . 8 Dale’s Domestic Liturgy .... 8 Defence of Eclipse o/Faith Discipline Earl’s Daughter (The) Eclipse of Faith . Englishman’s Greek Concordance . ,, Heb. and Chaid. Concord. Expérience of Life (The) . . Gertrude..................... Harrison’s Light of the Forge . Hook’s (Dr.) Lectures on Passion Week Horne’s Introduction to Scriptures . ,, Abridgmeut of ditto . ,, Communicant’s Compauion Jamesou’s Sacred Legends „ Monastic Legends . ,, Legends of tne Madonna ,, Sisters of Charity Jeremy Taylor’s Works Kalisch’s Commentary on Eseodus Katharine Ashton . Kippis’s Hymns .... Laneton Parsonage . . • Lyra Germanica .... Maitland’s Churchill the Catacombs Margaret Percival . . . Martineau’s Christian Life . ,, Church History . Milner’s Church of Christ . . Montgomery’* Original Hymns Moore Ou the Use of the Body . .. Soûl and Body „ ’s Man and his Motives . Mormonism .... Neale’s Closing Scene . . „ Restiug Places of the Just „ Riches that briug no Sorrow ,, Risen from the Kanks . Newmau’s (J. H.) Discourscs . Ranke’s Ferdinand and Maxiinillan Readings for Lent . . . ,, Confirmation Robinson’s Lexicon to Greek Testament Saints our Example * Self Déniai . . . Sermon in the Mount Sinclair’* Journey of Life Smith’s (Sydney) Moral Philosophy „ (G.) Sacred Auuals Southey’s Life of Wesley . . . .21 Stepheu’s (SirJ.) Ecciesiastical Biography 21 Tayler’s (J. J.) Discourses . ..21 Taylor’s Loyola.......................21 ,, Wesley ... Theologia Germanica • • Thumb Bible (The) ... Turuer’s Sacred History . • Twining’s Bible Types Wheeler’s Popular Bible Harmony Youug’s Christ of History Pages . 8 24 Poetry and the Drama. Arnold’s Poems..........................5 Aikin’s (Dr.) British Poets ... 5 Bailtie’s (Joanna) Poetical Works ... 5 Bode’s Ballads from Herodotus . . 6 Oalvert’s Wife’s Manual .... 7 Flowers and their Kindred Thoughts . 12 Goldsmith’s Poems, illustrated . . 9 Kippis’s Hymns . . . . . .12 L. E. L.’s Poetical Works . . . .12 Linwood’s Anthologie Oxoniensis . . 12 Lyra Germanica..........................7 Macaulay’s Lays ofAncient Rome . . 14 MacDonald’s Within and Without . . 14 Montgomery’s Poetical Works • .16 ,, Original Hymns . 164 CLASSIFIED INDEX. Pages Moore *s Poetical Works .... 17 „ Lalla Rookh....................17 ,, Irish Mélodies . • . • 17 ,, Songs and Ballads . . . 17 Shakspeare, by Bowdler .... 20 „ ’s Sentiments and Similes . 11 Southey’sPoetical Works . • .21 ,, British Poets . . . .21 Thomson’s Seasons,illnstrated . . 23 Watts’s Lyrics of the Heart . . .23 The Hnnting Field . .... 9 Idle’s Hints on Shooting .... 11 Pocket and the Stud ..... 9 Practical Horsemanship .... 9 Pulman’s Fly-Fishing .... 18 Richardson’s Horsemanship . . .19 St. John’s Sporting Rambles . . .19 Stable Talk and Table Talk •. . .10 Stonehenge on the Greyhound . . .21 The Stud,for Practical Purposes . . 9 Political Economy & Statistics. Caird’s Letters on Agriculture ... 7 Census of 1851.......................7 Francis on Life Assurance ... 9 Greg’s Essaya on Political and Social Science.........................9 Laing’s Notes of a Traveller . . 12 & 22 M* Culloch’s Geograhpical Dictionary . 15 ,, Dictionary of Commerce . . 15 it London..........................22 ,, Statistics of the British Empire 15 Marcet’s Political Economy . . .15 Tegoborski’s Russian Statistics -. . 21 Willich’s Popular Tables .... 24 The Sciences in General and Mathematics. Arago’s M et eorological Essaya . . 6 „ Popular Astronomy ... 5 Bourne’s on the Screw Propeller . . 6 Brande’s Dictionary of Science, etc. . 6 ,, Lectures on Organic Chemistry 6 Cresy’s Civil Engineering ... 8 DelaBecbe’s Geologv of Cornwall, etc. 8 „ Geological Observer . i 8 DelaRive’s Electriclty .... 8 Faraday’s Non-Metallic Eléments . . 9 Herschel’sOutlines of Astronomy . . 10 Holland’s Mental Physiology ». .10 Humboldt’s Aspects of Nature . .11 „ Cosmos . . . .11 Hunt’s Researches on light . . .Il Kemp’s Phasis of Matter . . •. . 12 Lardner’s Cabinet Cyclopsedla . . .13 Mann ou Reproduction . . . . 15 Marcet’s (Mrs.) Conversations . . 15 Moseley’s Engineering and Architecture 17 Owen’s Lectures on Comparative Anatomy 18 Our Coal Fields and our Coal Pits . . 22 Pereira on Polarised Light . . .18 Peschel’s Eléments of Physics . .18 Phillips’s Fossils of Cornwall, etc. . . 18 Mineralogy . . . .18 „ Guide toGeology . - .18 Portlock’s Geology of Londonderry . 18 Powell’s Unity ofWorlds . . . . 18 Smee’s Klectro-Metallurgy . . .20 Steam Engine, by the Artisan Club , 6 Tate on Strength of Materials . ' . .21 Wilson’s Electriclty and the Electric Telegraph ...... 22 Rural Sports. Baker’s Rifle and Hound in Ceylon • 6 Berkeley’s Réminiscences .... 5 Blaine’s Dictionary of Sports . . 6 Cecil’s Stable Practice .... 7 „ Records of the Chase ... 7 Cecil’s Stud Farm ..... 7 The Cricket Field....................8 Davy’s Angling Colloquies ... 8 Ephemera on Angling .... 9 „ ’s Book of the Salmon • . 9 Hawker’s Young Sportsman . . .10 Veterinary Medicine, etc. Cecil’s Stable Practice . . ,, Stud Farm ... The Huuting Field ... Miles’s Horse Shoeing . . Pocket and the Stud . . . Practical Horsemanship . . Richardson’s Horsemanship . Stable Talk and Table Talk . The Stud for Practical Purposes Youatt’s The Dog . . . „ The Horse - . . Voyages and Travels. Allen’s Dead Sea .... Baines’s Vaudois of Piedmont . . Baker’s Rifle and Hound in Ceylon . Barrow’s Continental Tour . . Burton’s Médina and Mecca . -. Carlisle’s Turkey and Greece • De Custine’s Russia .... Eôthen........................... Ferguson’s Swiss Men and Mountaina Forester’s Rambles in Norway . . . Gironière’s Philippines .... Gregorovius’s Corsica ..... Hilrs Travels in Siberia .... Hope’s Brittany and the Bible ... „ Chase in Brittany .... Howitt’s Art Student in Munich . . . „ Victoria...................... Huc’s Chinese Empire .... Hue and Gabet’s Tartary and Thibet Hughes’s Australian Colonies . Humboldt’s Aspects of Nature Jameson’s Canada ..... Jerrmann’s Picturesfrom St. Petersburg Laing’s Norway....................... ,, Notes of a Traveller . . 12 & Macintosh’s Turkey and Black Sea . Marryat’s California................. Mason’s Zulus of Natal .... Mayne’s Artic Discoveries . . Miles’ Rambles in Iceland . . Oidmixon’s Piccadilly to Peru . Osborn’s Narrative of Arctic Discovery Pfeiffer’s Voyage round the World . ,, Second ditto Richardson’s Arctic Boat Voyage . Seaward’s Narrative of his Shipwreck St. John’s (H.) Indian Archipelago . „ (Hon.F.) Rambles . Sutherland’s Arctic Voyage . . Weld’s United States and Canada • Wheeler’s Travels of Herodotus . Werne’8 African Wanderings . . Works of Fiction. Arnold’s Oakfield .... Lady Willoughbv’s Diary ... Macdonald’» Villa Verocchio . . Sir Roger De Coverley ... Southey’s Doctor . . . Trollope’s Warden . . . 7 7 9 16 9 9 19 10 9 24 24 22 17 17 22 18 18 19 19 19 2! 24 24 5 24 14ALPHABETICAL CATALOGUE OF NEW WORKS AND NEW EDITIONS PÜBLISHED BT Messes. LONGMAN, BROWN, GREEN, and LONGMANS, PATERNOSTER ROW, LONDON. Modem Cookery for Private Familles, reduced to a System of Easy Prac- tice in a Sériés of carefully tested Receipts, in which the principles of Baron Liebig and other eminent Writers hâve been as much as possible applied and explained. By Eliza Acton. Newly revised and mocb enlarged Edition; with 8 Plates, comprising 27 Figures and 150 Woodcuta. Fcp. 8vo. pnce 7s. 64. Aikin. — Select Works of the British Poets, from Ben Jonson to Beattie. With Biographical and Critical Préfacés by Dr. Aikin. 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