i;.Tf^Wf»W'.'^Tt:t/''^I''.yynTO'''g^ ^W"'gBIWBI I ji'IBI ita strange and opposite. My body now is forming to the heat. And islands, seas, and continents bespeak The gradual road to life. My poles of snow, Where heaped in ice my axle lies congealed, In time will melt; and then with freeV gait. More nearly situate to where earth doth roll Her temperate course amid the starry skies^ My quicken'd body, teeming o'er with life. The Universe. 2j Will throb responsive to the warmer glow. 'Tis with us planets as with every life From matter sprung, — some particles unite. And when conjoined, the whole conglomerate Exists as one ; which at its greatest then. After a time from some disrupting cause, Tends to break up ; and is resolved once more Into its elements, which 'chance again May help make up a second like the first. This is the* course of matter. I am now About the middle of the middle stage : My youth is o'er, and manhood just begun : , In the far future threats eventual death, When I, in turn, by stubborn Fate compelled. Amidst the blaze must throw myself, and die Upon the torrid bosom of the Sun. System Spirit, It is most true ; and I, although to me Belongs a kingdom greater far than thine, — E'en I, must in the labyrinth of time, See my possessions fade, till lost to sight, They change their form in darkness, and so quit 24 The Universe. Their present semblance. — All is change around. The Past we know not : what the Future brings We can but guess : and e'en the Present Time, — So full of change, — we may not read aright. What 'tis we see, is but a span of time Which lengthens out unending either way ; — A moment's glimpse at some long, strange, pro= cession, Which, in its movement changes every hour As some kaleidoscope. — From such to judge ! Things are. — The why we know not ; nor can tell. That must content us, we can see no more. Mercurial Spirit ! Thou who guid'st the path Of the bright ' Glitterer ' so seldom seen, Arise ! \_Spmt of Mercury rises. What things have passed within thy ken My smallest Planet ? Thou whose brilliant orb Shoots like an arrow through the burning sky I Spirit of Mercury. Benignant Spirit, gracious in thy might! My molten course amid the solar fumes I rush at headlong speed, and ever on The Universe. 25 Through fire-born g-ases cleave my rapid way, And like a Phoenix, vanish in the flames But to arise anew. My time is near: . Some day a cloak of fire old Sol will fling ; When my poor sphere, enveloped in its folds, Indrawn by the fierce rush, will blaze and die. Betwixt the Sun and me, with faster pace Than e'en my rapid own, rush phantom orbs, With fickle light, — uncertain and unknown; — Which midst the radiance shine and disappear, Erratic and disturbed. Since last thou cam'st, I from my path have watched the boiling sun. And seen the mighty workings of his face From day to day ; — no moment ever still ; — A ceaseless turmoil rages o'er the whole. Anon perchance, one time some spot appears As if quiescent ; — but the next it heaves. And from its bosom burst huge sheets of flame, Shot out prodigious in a whirl of fire Midst the blue space beyond. — A mighty sight ! That awes the looker with such thoughts sublime Of giant forces struggling to be free, Yet held in thraldom by one mightier still, That he might think that he now looks upon 26 The Universe. A remnant of old Chaos. Such it seems, Yet this is the great centre of our space, — The source of order and the throne of life ! — System Spirit. Assembled Spirits ! Ye around me here, Companions of my labours and my toils ! Ye who through ages o'er my realms have swayed Your various sceptres in united zeal For the fair cause of order ! List to me ! I have a tale of sorrow for your ears — A tale of ruin, havoc, and despair, — Will raise your hearts in anger ! 'Tis for this I bade ye here ; that solemn council might Its reasons clear, and voice united bring. To thwart th' aggressor. See yon yellow star, Low on the west beneath the Greater Bear ! Does it look dangerous ? The puny size Doth mask the covert ill ; both grow with time. An epoch on, and half the western sky Will fill with light of strange refulgence born ! Then o'er thy worlds will creep a sense of dread, As high in air the warning radiance shines, The Universe. 27 Lovely but threat' ning, and though distant far, Yet coming ever nigh. Oh, I can see, As though it happens, all the wreck around ! — It comes ! — Swift through the distant sky, Near, and yet nearer, glows the fiery orb. Avaunt thou fiend ! — 'Tis useless. — On, still on ; Through the still ether of a red hot sky Fast roars the hissing mass ! Thou second sun I Yet as unlike the first as Death to Life ! Thou monster mass of raging moltenness, Begot by Ruin of the Fire of Hell, Stop thou e'en now ! — Alas!— Yet nearer still; Till- the whole surface of the earthly globe Assumes a spitting heat ! and the pale Sun Amid the burning sky looks darkly out ; — A blacken'd spot amidst a world of flames ! — Yet closer ! Till the giant furnace sphere Usurps full half the heavens ! — Closer still 1 — Till the old Sun starts from his resting place With quick' ning speed, and fast, and faster still, Courses the sky towards the threatened death ! — He breaks ! — He splits ! — Two minor suns appear. 'Tis but a moment ; and again they split ! — A second more, they burst! — and pouring on, 28 The Universe. While the dread terror still pursues its way, Stream on its bosom in a rain of fire, — A molten torrent, weird, tempestuous ! — Then too my planets leave their orbits calm, Borne by the whirlwind with resistless force, All rush at once, and like a rocket's stars, Burning descend in one long dying- stream. Oh, what an ending- to my reig-n of peace ! My kingdom blasted by a raging sun, — All prematurely. — All my pleasant dreams Of happy future, bright, and orderly. Shattered to dust. My well tried scheme, Its mechanism, form, material. Its well-planned parts, and cunning workmanship, All swept to ruin in one crashing blo'vv ! And shall this be ? Wer't better not to wait Till the great cataclysm of The End, When ruined Nature smokes across the sky In lurid streaks of fire, and tranquil Space, Plunged in the blackness of the Night of Death, In all its vastness, serves so dark, and dead. But as Oblivion's dreary charnel-house ; — The grave of worlds, — the sepulchre of suns ? — What would ye ? Speak ! Shall I petition Him The Universe. 29 Who rules all space, supreme afar and near O'er all things; or must I Even await the coming of the shock ? Spirit of the Sun. Is this then all ? Is this our last refuge ? Our one alternative ? Can we not hope That something may, in course of ages on Arrest that wild career ? Thou speak'st as't were A solemn certainty. Thou can'st not say There is no hope. System Spirit. 'Tis true; but what is Hope ? Hope is the fraud that Longing doth impose Upon our better reason. Thus it is In dire extremity, when chance is least, Hope's mirage shines the stronger. We all know The pleasant glamour that our mind doth weave O'er all our past events, which when they 'fell Yielded not half the pleasure that they give As viewed in retrospect. So 'tis with Hope ; 30 The Universe. That o'er the Present pleasingly doth cast Its gilded film of phantasy, to make Existent things seem better than they are. No wisdom lies in Hope ; — a vain deceit Practised on self by self. — No, it behoves Us to make choice of measures and to act. I wait your counsels. Spirit of Neptune. Brother Spirits, I, Though I know not your several ways of thought, Would like to hazard my opinions forth In naked strength before ye. Are things such Ye would retain them as they now exist To all eternity ? Bethink ye now : Are things so pleasant with each one, that he Could not conceive them better ? For myself, I wish a change. In one dull tedious round, Unlit by light, to drag oneself along, Is not a high ambition ; and ye all Must in some detail be not quite content; If of itself, the sheer monotony Of endless motion in an orbit fixed, Would not alone suffice. What more would ye ? The Universe, 31 Here is a chance will free ye for all time : No longer bound by laws material, Loosed from all bondage, ye may wing your ways Amidst the worlds around, untrammelled, free. What if it comes ? — Comes there not with it change ? — Excitement stern will fill each dubious sphere, And with the heat each pulse will livelier throb, While eager interest every mind absorbs To turn th' occasion for its good or ill. Then comes a time when each may seize a place More suited to his wish, or failing lose That which he would retain. It might befall Our sun would act the planet, and involved With mightier forces, pass unhurt away, With the great Wonder to strange worlds afar. Oh, what a voyage of wild discovery ! Dang'rous may be, — as all new travels are, — But what a field of vision would unfold, — Unknown, unguessed at, strange and wonderful ! — Brethren, what will ye ? Will ye take the chance. And run the hazard of a glorious change, — (And all thy spheres must perish soon or late) — Or will ye still in stagnant lethargy Move with dull sameness in a beaten path ? 32 The Universe. Spirit of Mercury. A chang-e ! Lets risk the chance ! What can we lose ? Either the end comes soon and suddenly, Or wrung with waiting, we perceive the blow For ever threatening, as in doubt to fall, Yet ever held on high. Let it be sharp ! More sudden then the better. Choose the one That ends one way the quickest : e'en though that May chance to fall against ye. Far the worst Is dread suspense, which like a cankered sore Envenoms happiness. Spirit of Jupiter, Here no suspense. If should our prayer succeed, all things will run The even tenour of their way unchanged, Though that great Menace will no longer threat With fiery rays our very life itself. But if, alas ! Some reason too profound, — Too deep for us to fathom, — should outweigh Our slight petition ; then ye have your will ; Destruction's horrors and a world of death The Universe. 33 With violent ruin will envelope ye 1 Oh, brother Spirits, it may suit the case Of Neptune, plunged in dark oblivion, Who must for age on age eternal wait To reach the happy zone ; or Mercury, Who, all his life run by, would snatch at aught That m.ight release him from approaching fate; But for ourselves who now enjoy that state, — The summit of a sphere's expectancy,— ^ Or who contented, in near distance see Our happy turn approach ; why, — why should we Desire the state convulsed ? — A doubtful gain Against a certain loss. — It cannot be For mere excitement ye would risk such odds, And though destroyed, draw pleasure from the deed, As would the men of earth, where in this age To gain that end all else is sacrificed. Say with me Brethren ; shall we rather not United pray our gracious Spirit Chief That he petition to the Lord of All, ■ — King o'er the chieftains of the Universe — To check Arcturus in his wild career. And fix his orbit everlastingly ? Speak my friends ! Are ye for change or order P 34 The Universe, Spirit of Uranus. Both r But since, alas! the one, will needs destroy All semblance of the other ; then must I, Although unwilling-, still cast in my lot With my great neighbour Jupiter. Other Spirits. And we. Therefore we pray Thee, as our System's Lord, To represent us at the mighty throne Of the great King of Destiny ; and there To tell our woes and dangers. Not as yet, Has that new growth Misanthropy had power To change our love of life. Spirit of the System. Yet is it true It is the last advancement of the brain. The lowest life scarce cares if danger threats. The next advanced shrinks backwards at its touch. While that more progressed flies the slightest sign. The Universe. 35 The brains formed higher still, observe the blow, And with invention thwart it ; but these last, — Highest though strange, — perceive where it must fall, Yet thinking on the utter hollowness. And empty mockery, of things around, Unmoved await the end. Yet am I pleased At this your wise decision, and will bear, With eager flight your just petition up Unto the Head of All ; and there will show Him. why ye plead, and why ye would conjure, Of all things else, a speedy settlement. D 2 36 Pessimistic Life. PESSIMISTIC LIFE. 'Tis Curiosity and Fear — Two things alone, — that keep us here 1:' Flung-ed in the turmoil and strife, Unasked, we awake and are here ; Sent to hard labour for Hfe, Foredoomed to the shroud and the bien Born to the mercy of Fate, Dependent on others we live ; Thrown as a burdensome weight Where pleasure alone we should give.. Brought, where too many are now, To mix with the toilers around, Slaving with hand, and with brow,. To seek for the pleasure unfound. Reared on the bodies of those Who perish that we may be fed^. While ever behind us grows The skeleton train of the dead.. Pessimistic Life. 37 Brought here to plunder and rob Our fellows too crowded before ; To add to the struggling- mob, And pilfer its hard-gotten store. Sentenced to worry our brain, Till, urged to the depths of despair. Wrung for a life-time in vain, The Future looms lurid and bare. Tortured and plagued by our mind Lest shortly all happiness cease, Stirred by a fore- thought unkind, A stranger to comfort and peace. Oh, to be free from the thrall Of Futurity's shadow so dark, — To rise from the deadening pall As blithesome and gay as the larki-— Happy the Bedlamite's cell, Where reason can never perplex;— Happier the being whose knell His soul to its haven directs !— 38 Pessimistic Life. Dying at last, at our death, Snap friendships and love at a blow;- Tortured and racked our last breath By doubts as to where we may go. — — Whether a bliss of delights Awaits us, or torment in Hell, Or utter extinction blights The soul with a lasting spell ! — - A Sussex Down in Summer. 39 A SUSSEX DOWN IN SUMMER. Softly comes the balmy zephyr O'er the blue sea's rippling- face, Wafting- sweet and wafting- ever Purest air with gentlest grace. Shines the noonday sun down brightly, Cloudless smiles the hazy sky, O'er the cornfields rustling lightly, As on Beacon Hill I lie. High in air the soaring swallow Gnat-like swims his mazy way, And from out the azure hollow Floats the sky-lark's fainting lay. All around the insects murmur, And the distant sheep-bell's sound Serves to root my thoughts the firmer In the beauties all around. 40 A Sussex Down in Summer. All the turf beside me lying, Crushed beneath my cumbrous weig-htp Teems with bustling creatures hieing Hither, thither, small and great. "Watch the tiny beetle climbing In and out with hurried speed, And the ant on stem declining. Tottering with its captured seed. Everywhere all Life rejoices, Rev'lling in the pleasant glow, And bright Nature's hundred voices Hum their thanks in heav'nward flow. Earth's History. 41 EARTH'S HISTORY. — An all-pervading- mist; — gigantic ball, Vap'rous and fiery ;— drawn from out the depths Where even yet attenuated spread Its further confines ; — slowly cooling mass, — Which, as its particles together drawn Unequally, — more closely where most cool, — Slowly revolves; and growing more compact, Shrinks as a whole ; but still within itself, With varied density, some parts contract, — Leaving void spaces in its mammoth mass, — And, as more dense they grow, each from the rest With tenfold speed retracts, and gathering close Its thick'ning clouds, revolves a liquid sphere. . What now appears ? Unnumbered nuclei — Liquid at centre ; with their mother mist Cohering close, but growing less compact As farther stretching, — there rotate around Their central points with ever changing axes, Coohng anon, each separate new-born sphere^ 42 Earth's History, Though but an unit midst those myriad worlds, Exerts on all the others sev'rally, And they on it, a strong attractive force ; All move ; and by the motion changed, the force Acts varyingly, some meet and coalesce; — Others, revolving at too high a speed, Grow more and more oblate, until at last Split into two, each half relieved now rolls Throbbing in concert round its fellow orb, Linked thereunto by a strong chain unseen. . . With equilibrium at length attained, — But temporary and slow changing still, For Nature's Law is Change — where motion is And forces are, there ever Change must be, — Masses of liquid fire, at distance huge, Roll on their axes, and with varied pace Move onward through a labyrinth of stars, While in their wake, in front, and all around, Rush circling smaller orbs ; — some in their train Bear bodies yet more small ; — others, whose size Their neighbouring sphere more nicely balances. Turn one around the other, and the pair With wavy circles circumscribe their sun. . . Slowly they lose their heat; — unequally, — Earth's History. 43 The larger, and those in close proximity To the huge central mass of molten fire, With those whose uncondensed envelopes Remain the thickest, — these more slowly cool ; While those more distant, small, and naked orbs, Quicker solidify. Our central Sun Whose size the mind appalls, planet-like rolls In giant orbit round Alcyone, — Queen of the thickly clustered Pleiades, Who lacks a brilliant from her star-lit crown ;— Whilst our poor Earth shows but a sorry moon Dragged where it will by its superior fellow, Trivial in size and insignificant. . . Behold our solar system. The bright Sun Centre of all ; round him we molten move. Revolving quicker, such that day and night Measure not half their now duration ; But, as we turn, our form alters in shape, Huge tides of our own body-matter swell. And, as a thin crust cools, volcanoes burst ; A sea-sick undulation heaves each hour Of the short day ; the stifling atmosphere Abounds with clouds, — but fire, not rain, descends.— Dim shines the moon with a dull glowing red ; 44 Earth'' s History. Not clear, and sharp in outline, such as now Its every feature shows, but lurid, blurr'd, — Like to the winter sun through London fog; — Then always round, no pagan crescent then Illumined up with pale and frigid rays Earth's midnight hour; — an ever shining disc, Some time more bright, or duller, and anon Of parti-shaded hue, sheds its weird light On ever present day. — There in the zenith height, Which all ablaze with strange eruptions glows, Bright Venus shines, nor Mars less brilliant casts His ruddy rays, both in the burning sky Like dwarfish suns their bright caloric shed. Great Saturn, yet unborn, but as a cloud, Or hazy phosphorescent nebula, Exists in embryo ; orb, moons, and ring Blended unformed in one pale lifeless mist. Gigantic Jupiter rolls his wide way. Molten, and massive, but eclipsed in light By a huge planet, brighter, and more near. Which 'twixt himself and Mars rotating fast, To the great sun perpetual homage pays. — But where now seen ? — Where is that glorious form ? — A second, smaller, but a brighter Moon ? — Earth''s History. 45 There in its place innumerable rush Thousands of smaller worldlets; one and all Move on eccentric in a cloud around The ancient orbit, varying in size From our own Moon to a few miles across. What fierce explosion, what catastrophe, What direful tumult, rent this blazing- sphere ? — Blasted to dust ! — Incomprehensible ! The hug-eness of the action over-powers Our feeble minds, palsied and paralysed By the sublimity and awful grandeur Of such a dire disruption. Hell itself Might find its frightful terrors here excelled. — Disastrous portent ! — Fell calamity ! — Will everlasting ruin seize on each, And hurl in black disorder sun and moon, Planets and stars, earth, comets, meteors, all^ Back to the chaos of Oblivion ? . . . Cooler earth grows : — heat radiates into space ; — Her face solidifies, and solid rock First forms ; — an outward shell, fissured and rent By fierce internal forces. Presently Liquids condense, lakes form and grow to seas^ 46 Earth's History. Swelling- to oceans at a boiling- heat; — The rocks dissolve, — and waters charg-ed with salts Percolate inwards, there more heated still, Under great pressure, they more potent grow. And as they cool, deposit in the clefts Their various substances erstwhile dissolved. . . Shortly ; — but whence, or how, what man can say ? — Life first appeared; — but in what form unknown; — Lowly, which for long- ag-es toiled along- With scarce apparent change, unwritten yet In Nature's stony tablets. First we find Dim marks in slate ; uncertain Eozoon ; But later on in those primeval seas Strang-e Phyllopods, and Trilobites appear. In rich profusion strewn ; sea-weeds abound. And corals multiply ; whilst lowly plants, Cryptog-amous, make green the face of earth. Tides rise and fall unheeded; sediments Slowly deposit on the ocean bed, Entombing- in their midst the skeletons Of such existence as hath lived its time. Life how ephemeral ! All earthly things Live but to die. What waste of precious force ! Earth'' s History, 47 In ages past what vital energ-y Hath silent flitted by, and passed away Unnoticed as it came ! What myriads Of lowly forms have one time dwelt on Earth ! Countless their skeletons that here remain, — Themselves how countless then ! — What wasteful death ! Behold the Chalk alone of Limestone rocks, Stretching afar through all the Weald of Kent, — Acres on acres; — then view Beachy Head, That mammoth mass foraminiferal. Gauge well that bulk of thick solidity ! Muse on the skeletons, complex, but small, In life the outward shell, — brittle and thin, — Of tiny animalculse, which then, Numberless buoyed in Ocean's midway depths. Floated their dull existence ; but at last Waning, they yielded up their helpless life, And as they died, dropped down, and littering The old sea bottom in its stormless depths. Piled up this vast white mass ! Imagine that ! Then think on Time and Number ! And that Time Is scarce an epoch in Earth's History ! . . Gradual the seas with swarming fishes teem, 48 Earth's History. All armour-plated like to knights in war. The pearly Nautilus, straightened and bent, In every form and shape now sails his craft Upon the sea of life, and trims it so It buffets every gale, and lasts till now. Oh, best of sailors, who can tack his ship With ev'ry shifting breeze ; — avoid the rocks And whirlpools that beset the rigid course ; — And bring his skiff, unharmed, and safe through all. To the last haven of eternity ! Yield then to others the poor empty praise Of sailing Ocean's breast 'neath sunny skies ; — A fragile bark upon a mortal sea, Whose treach'rous surface, while it bears thee up One moment, with a calm and oily look. Prepares the next, with dark and angry brow, T'engulph and overwhelm thee. — Ammonite, — Thy burly brother, — following thee close, Quickly excels, fosters, and multiplies ; But grown at last unwary with success, Forgets some tack, and though he casts about In divers shape, and varies more, and more, He languishes and dies. The track once missed Is seldom found again. And woe to him, Earth's History, 49 Though e'en a giant in size, or numberless As sand grains on the shore, that path once lost Naught can avail, full soon he perisheth. . . The land, clothed all in green, bears forests huge On its forsaken shores ; there tall tree ferns, Horsetails and Lycopods, together mixed In rich profusion grow ; untouched by Man : Those virgin solitudes, matted, and dense. No cheering birds enliven ; there the trees Live on, and die ; and as each falls, another Grows up and flourishes ; until in turn Grown old and cankered, or by storms o'erthrown, It perishes ;— and so at last exist Whole living forests grown on skeletons Of former vegetation. There now live Lepidodendrons in abundance wild. Fern-like Caulopteris there sheds its fronds, And Sigillaria thrives. Around, the earth With leaves and fruit is strewn, a layer thick, Matted and sodden by the winter rain, Yearty increasing in its peaty depth. , . Reptiles appear : the later forest-woods Approach more nearly to the Conifers. Those forests still, no mammal yet contain ; E 5o Earth's History. For ages long all uninhabited; There no gay songster sings his cheering note ; — ^Devoid of pleasant shapes; — for there alone Huge lizards rove, in aspect terrible, Giant, and uncouth, with hind legs monstrous large. Some round the shore plod wearily along In the damp sand ; others, more active far, Take in the deep recesses of the wood Their carnal pleasures. There, with sabre teeth They tear and rend the e'en still quiv'ring flesh Of their less powerful fellows. Insects now Grace the dull air with life ; and following fast. That strange wing'd wonder^ Pterodactyl, flies, — Half bat, half reptile, — fit to climb a tree, Strut o'er the land, or cleave the air with wings Of skinny membrane from one finger hung. And e'en to skim the sea, and from its breast To snatch a scaly prey. Those seas around Full many a Shark contain ; and curious life Reptilian there abounds : — huge saurian things, With paddles, and great jaws armed with fierce teeth, That prey on one another :— there is found The long necked Plesiosaur, and his dire foe Earth's History. 51 Great Ichthyosaurus tyrant of the deep ; These Pliosaurus ousts, e'en huger still, Larg-e as the whale and toothed, a Plesiosaur In all but the long neck. If any Age Deserves a name, then call the Oolite, The Lias, and the Weald, the Age of Fiends 1 The various forms that roamed the face of Earth In that dark period, — loathsome and uncouth, — — More weird and terrible than any ghoul Imagination compassed, — loosed in Hell Would drive our Imps themselves to upper air. Hurried, and scared, scarce daring look behind. Iguanodon, herbiv'rous, lazy, huge, Fierce Hylseosaurus with the crested back, Megalosaurus, monarch of the woods. Rove through the forests' dark solemnity. Upon the sluggish river's oozy mouth, Fest'ring in the mid-day sun, in slothful sleep Poikilopleuron's elephantine bulk Sinks deep into the mud : the neighboring pools Harbour the Steneosaurus, there abound Streptospondylus, Goniopholis, Great reptiles fierce of crocodilian kind. The broader channels Cetiosaurus haunts, £2 52 Earth's History. More suited to his size, — full sixty feet From snout to tail; — his giant and sinewy legs End in clawed feet, huge, webbed, and muscular : Greedy, carnivorous, he ploughs the sea At frightful speed upon his murd'rous quest. Weird Pterodactyl flutters through the air, Membraneous-wing'd, in scaly armour cased, Beaked like the Adjutant, but armed with teeth ; — The strangest and uncanniest of all. — With those strange reptiles, in that scene of strife Small low class mammals, Marsupalia, live Midst dread surroundings. Thus, a still, calm, peace Dwells in the bosom of thrice horrid war. Expands, and thrives through insignificance, While mutual carnage thins th' oppressor's ranks And lifts the burden from its downtrod cause. Thus life reptilian swarms in every part. Now at its height ; from here their numbers thin, — But why unknown, — unless indeed their food. From ages of voracity and greed. Had dwindled short, and then each on the other Turned his fierce jaws: his weaker neighbours gone, — The intermediates, — e'en the giant himself — The smaller fry too trivial for his bulk, — Earth's History, 53 Must waste and die. Birds, reptiles' light offspring, Now first are found, like to the Albatross In form of bone : their footmarks long before Dotted the ocean's strand with dubious print, Whilst their weak skeletons, airy, and light, Decayed away ; less fitted to remain Than even marks in sand, — that sand a shore. — A pause now comes ; no evidence appears Of life existent in this changeful time. The next remains, — forms likened more to those Which now inhabit Earth, — bear traces plain Of variation through long ages past, —Long and continued. — Vast elapse of time Of which no tell-tale evidence remains, — A long-dra,wn blank of which each end is known; — The space between analogy must fill. Anon submerged, the varying face of Earth,. Now sea, now land, now lake, changes the look Its every aspect bears ; now torrid skies, Parching, and hot, shine vertically down And frail exotics flourish ; and again, Cold frigid snows congeal its every pore ; Clad all in ice, inhospitable shores 54 Earth's History, Girdle it round, no welcome plant there grows To cheer the sight; — cold, tenantless, and dark^, A numb white desert spreads before the eyes. — Gradual these changes grow, sluggish but sure. Again, perchance, a pleasant warmth once more Revives the dormant parts ; Earth's energy Another forest feeds, in character Differing but slightly from the elder one, But other forms grow up, and old ones change To meet the new conditions; — higher forms, That better hold their own, live thriving on, The best more num'rous grow, while those effete And least adapted kinds, thin out and die. Thus does all life on Earth each moment change. Slowly, but surely, and the best survive. Here various mammals live still thriving on^ The Birds increase, and small, but higher, fish Usurp the sea's dominion; trees and plants Approach to recent forms ; and now are found Reptiles less plentiful, the Saurian race Fast dying out ; the Crocodilians few And much less common : on the other hand Ophidia first appear; Turtles increase In number and variety, and though small Earth's History, 55 The Lacertilia multiply. And now The mammals spread in ever growing" hordes By sea and land; the bare skinned Pachyderms Rise dominant o'er all, — the ruling race, — Whilst other forms beneath their easy sway Live on unchecked to breed and multiply. Tapir-like forms abundantly are found, Of varying size ; oft like the modern hare, Large eyed, and swift; some like the antelope, Agile, and elegant, course o'er the land And deck the woodland plain : others, more cumb'rous, Doze in the marsh, and float the watery flood. A giant tortoise toils its weary way, — Megalochelys, — on whose dome-shaped back Right well the Hindoo universe might rest. The long toothed Dinothere, — to which the whale And elephant doth each resemblance bear, — Amphibious, now lives his hybrid life ; Quadrumana are found ; and present forms. Giraffe, Horse, Camel, Hippopotamus, In decent plenty range ; a giant Bear, Felidae, and Hyaenas, prowl the woods, Intent on murder : huge colossal Sloths Ravish the forest of its fairest trees ; 56 Earth'' s History. The lordly Mastodon stalks o'er the earth. Serene in his huge strength, fearless of all, Unharmful and unharmed : about this time Still toiling Nature first produced a form. In pedigree collat'ral with the Apes, But more erect, intelligent, yet still Brown-skinned, and hairy, with receding brow^ Deep sunken eyes, and thick-set powerful jaws, — In aspect fierce, unpromising, — yet this Through generations, gave the training hand Of Nature, ever eager for the best, Its present climax Man. — Primeval Man, — Who roamed the woods in which the Mammoth dwelt^ And with the Tiger, Bear, and skulking Wolf, Kept up a doubtful warfare : not as now. Lord of creation, whom all others fear ; But one of many, each and all of whom, Prey on the other ; while incessant strife, With doubtful fortune wages all around. So Man, in constant terror for his life, But slow increasing, hardly holds his own. . .. Large Ruminants herd in the forest plains, The Irish Elk wades through the peaty bog, And large Carnivora prowl ; enormous shells. Earth's History. 57 Rest under shady trees ; — the giant house Of ancient Armadilloes. — Gradually Such forms die out, Man thrives, and alters all ; No longer strength ensures preponderance, Skill takes its place ; the strong and fiercer beasts Remorselessly are killed, the others live But for the use of Man. A stage is reached Diff'rent from all before. — For the first time, Nature is pampered artificially. . . Oh, what a retrospect of v^asted life ! What various forms have onetime swayed our world! — For ever gone!— Deep buried in the Past, Forgotten and unmourned ! And can it be It will continue to the Fatal End ? Will Man die out, and all his glorious works Lie as still ghosts upon the face of Earth ? — Sad Monuments of mighty Greatness past. O'er which the Moon will weep, with sorrow pale, — — Deserted as the dead ? — O, mournful thought! E'en as I write, deep palling on the mind. The shadow of dark Fate appears to come. And with one breath, ourselves, our loves, and lives^ Fade into darkness, never more to rise From the dead lumber of Oblivion 1 58 Thovight. THOUGHT. Oh, what a blessing- art thou, Thou Thought that know'st no bounds, That leav'st our toil girt sphere, For the depths devoid of sounds! Limitless, airy, and free, Untrammelled by physical laws, Thou peerest where no one may see. For reasons that know not a cause ! Oh, what a weapon to grace A body not yet in its prime, As a second annihilates space And a minute anticipates time ! Oh, how thrice blessed art thou, By gravity unsubdued, That turn'st the toil worn brow From Life's eternal feud ! Thought, 59 A blessing for ever art thou To the richer of human kind, As they think of the pleasures to come, And the happiness left behind. Yet how unfair thou art ; The rich, thou richer mak'st, While, from the sorrowing heart All happiness thou tak'st. Friend of the struggling youth As he enters on Life's first stage^ With visions of honour and truth, And a peaceful and happy old age„ Foe of the full grown man, As blighted, and thwarted, his life Looks forth from a manhood of care^ To a dotage of hunger and strife. Boon to the man whose success Gives no fear what the morrow may brings — The object of Fortune's caress — Where Virtue and Happiness cling. 6o Thought, Bane of the down-trodden slave, Encompassed with sorrow and woe, As he thinks of the hastening grave And the pleasures he never may know. But for the Philosopher's mind Thy pleasures are choicest in store ; His course with bright gems thou hast lin'd^ — The Future holds promise of more. — ^ To A returns, 6i TO ARCTURUS. Mass of rotundity, Plunged in profundity, Steeped in the blackness of heaven's abyss ! Back to thy solitude ! Back from the multitude ! Stop thy mad onslaught, thou monster amiss ! Blundering whitherward ? Thundering hitherward, Molten, and massive, thou perilous star ! Wilt thou resistless, Snatch us assistless. Whirled to the regions of darkness afar ? Mountain of moltenness. Fiery and oceanless. Raving capriciously whither thou wilt. Blasting, and blighting, Thy pafh uninviting, Art thou the destroyer that punisheth guilt ? 62 A Claim, A CLAIM. What various changes hath our planet seen Since its first birth midst Chaos' misty sheen ! — An orb of fire, — hot, glowing- like a sun, Yet cooling ever as its course is run, — Till the cool waters settle on its face, And blending rivers lend their silvery grace, And watery jellies, protoplasmic, low, Bathybius-like, in changing network grow, — — Till higher forms the Plasson slime begets, And varying slow, in cell-like structure sets. — Then ages plunged 'neath Ocean's aqueous waste, Progressive still, a Gastrula is traced ; — The Worms, the next, — while varying branches spring, Till Vertebrates acknowledge Man their King. Man, whom all Earth her sovereign ruler owns, Who goads her workers, and who kills her drones ; Lord of all living things; — and all by him Are sacrificed to meet his merest whim ; — A Claim. 63 He, Nature's last, most powerful, greatest, — best, — - — When not a tyrant o'er the feebler rest, — E'en he must heed, if he break Nature's laws, Vengeance befalls, — there is no saving clause. — Nature, the just, all powerful, rigid, stern. Controls the loftiest oak and lowliest fern, No difference knows she 'twixt the high and low. On each unerring falls the vengeful blow, Nor can e'en Man himself, however strong, If sinning,. 'scape the certain judgment long. Yet he, presumptuous, glorying in his brain, (That but th' effect of Nature's varying strain) Has dared to think himself above her sway, And slight her rule as of a bygone day : Thus does the headstrong offspring court his doom. Yet wonders at the slowly settling gloom. His numbers grown, increasing more and more, And each year faster than the one before, Naught can he see to check his onward spread, A lack of food scarce enters in his head. In olden times when wars and feud were rife, The weak and ailing perished in the strife, The rest, the strong, — stout, healthy people all, — Throve all the better for the weaklings' fall ; Btt 64 A Claim. Then, as a g-ardener tends his choicest plants, Uproots the weeds, and lops the weaklier branch. Till the fresh sprouts in rich profusion grow And all the saps in livelier motion flow; — Nature, of old, unfettered, trimmed her cares, Nor suffered multiply unsuited pairs. The likelier few who lived, then handed down Their fitter virtues as a wealthy crown ; Posterity, enriched, pruned once again, Still further purified the nobler strain : Th' increase, though slow, with steps full certain moved, And with the numbers, fitness too improved. But now high Man, from meet oppression free'd Grows rank and wild as any garden weed ; No longer Nature can the weak ones kill, A marriage soon perpetuates their ill, Their offspring-, tainted with assured disease, Must undermine society by degrees, The good old stock, corrupted by the sore, Is doomed to rot for breaking Nature's law. . . When men 'neath guise of charity indeed, Coddle the weakly, help diseased ones breed, Spread wan Consumption sickening through the land A Claim. 65 And to foul Cancer lend a helping- hand. Call them not friends ! — Foes of the human race, Who curry notice, and their gifts misplace. Avails it aught to gain a paltry span By pampering an ill, unfitted man ? For each short space of time that's gained to him, The lives of animals, torn limb from limb, Who might unless, have longer life enjoyed To postpone death are uselessly employed ; The food used up for him, he keeps away From those who need it, but who cannot pay, — Healthy but poor, — than whom who better could Receive a favour, — and the gift do good? — Even the ancients tried to meet the case ; Cooped up within their city's cinctured space, When they their people found too closely packed, They'd have a war, — or if they neighbours lacked, Infanticide they practised ; — that was wrong, — It thinned the people, — but it killed the strong. — One would not wish such remedies as these, But something's needful, — be it what you please. — Can we not stop before more harm may chance, — Permit of marriage but by Doctors' grants, Forbid the banns to those unsound at least, 66 A Claim, Nor then imagine reproduction ceased ? — Too fast the pace; — something must needs be done, — A tax on children, — or all over one. — If as it is the case be left to grow, Great overcrowding all the world must show, The used up earth their wants will not provide When all their sewage goes beneath the tide. And from the land each particle of good Is swept beneath old Ocean's greedy flood. Th' impov'rished soil, whence came the crop of cor% Requires return of what has been withdrawn ; Yet what we cannot use, Digestion's waste, We rather squander lest it be replaced. The animals whate'er they eat return, We may from them a useful lesson learn. Their bodies when they die, they leave the soil. Nothing is lost, to Nature's balance loyal. This great transference of th' essential parts Makes the poor soil defy the farmer's arts; He cannot make each year good crops of corn The self-same field successively adorn. And naught replace ; then how can the whole earth Continuous give nor feel the growing dearth ? — Good for the ocean's bed and river's strand A Claim, 67 When in the future they may rest dry land : — Most generous foresight thus to aid prepare These rich soiled gardens for the distant heir ! Methinks the education of the race For themes like these might find a fitting place ; ■ — Instruct the learned, — help their stronger minds To grasp such stern necessities betimes. How can it e'er our human progress aid To teach street arabs Caesar is decayed ? If but amongst them there a genius stray, Be sure he will unaided make his way; Lessons, to him, but cramp his lofty mind, In the routine of hackney'd class confined : Perchance, not good at conning facts by rote, He sees fools pass him by the teacher's vote, He notes their brains; — yet thinks his own are less, — And soon discouraged, dons the dunce's dress. Which is the better; — one dull average all, — From which no sage can soar, or dullard fall, With knowledge common, but with genius sparse, Or minds like Darwin, Newton, and Laplace ? The rest, a herd ; — may be can't add a sum, — But they progress if genius be not numb. What does this Education as now taught ? F2 68 A Claim. — With every evil the mad plan is fraught ! — Beg-ot by Cant, Hypocrisy, and Puff, As if without it ills were not enough ! Breeder of Plots, Dissatisfaction, Riot, Anarchy, Murder, and all things unquiet; — Would that the authors chance might reap the crop' Posterity in vain shall strive to stop ! — They teach a people whom they cannot feed, Prepare a soil for Nihilism's seed. Change country yokels into useless muffs And honest peasants into idling roughs. . . When each but knew his own, his father's lot,, And each for ages tilled the self same spot, Quite satisfied, he envied others naught, Contented with the peace his calling brought. — Child of the plough, inured to honest toil. Fond of his cottage and his native soil. What care had he for base intrigue and gain. Lord of his own fireside, and labouring wain! — His humble cottage, with its crust and cheese. His wife, and children clustering round his knees^ His evening pipe, his homely mug of beer. His hearty laugh that did one good to hear, His every action, told his simple worth, A Claim. 69 An English Yeoman from his earliest birth. , . And nowl They drag- him, while a ruddy boy, To some close school away from his employ, They teach him Singing, Drawing, Painting Maps, Latin, Geography, or Greek perhaps, Stuff which full thousand else beside him know, And turn him out, — unfit to scare a crow. — His money stopped, his time for earning gone, His parents poorer, his own face more worn, Less fed, more worried, if not overcrammed, Proud, lazy, useless, and for ever damned. . . While at the school his parents lose his wage, The Farmer too must older hands engage, A loss both ways; and if by chance he choose — Small chance indeed, — his unskilled hands to use. He finds himself, — his 'prentice time gone by — No whit more able to mow grass, than fly. Through his whole life he lives a bungling hand, — Who learneth late will never understand. — More often will he, with exalted sense Of his poor powers, betake himself from thence. Go to some town, and quickly undeceived His flimsy castles ne'er will be achieved, Turn loafer, drunkard, jail-bird, — what you will,— 70 A Claim. He stays a tax upon the country still. The towns increase, the country people thin, Labour lies idle and engenders sin, Crowding breeds vice, the taint with numbers grows. Nor dies the plague-spot where it first arose. . . Beware ! Ye Rulers ! — Ye have sown the seed, — — The whirlwind comes, — while yet ye may, take heed ! The Commune's horrors France remembers well, Two revolutions on her conscience dwell, Europe aghast, numb-stricken, watched, and prayed,. — How ten-fold worse when Science lends her aid ! — When Vice triumphant, uses Virtue's tools, And takes her weapons to subvert her rules! This time, I prophecy, not one^ but all, Will freely answer Ruin's awful call, Each state will feel her throbbing bosom swell, And our fair Earth will burst a smoky hell ! In that dire struggle, who can see the end ? ■ — If one side conquer, — which the Lord forfend ! — Good-bye to order, — Man's poor race is run, — An age's progress in a year undone. . . Is this the end ? Is there no other fate ? Haste then to check it, lest it be too late. A Claim. 71 Arrest full soon the population's spread, Distribute, to the poor and starving-, bread ; Pile up the taxes on the rich and strong. Do anything ; — but Education's wrong. . , And must this happen ? Is there then no chance. And must we follow thrice unhappy France ? Till now we've 'scaped ; — and why ? — In empty ground Our colonies the safety valve have found. — Are they a remedy ? When they are full. Then will the Baker and the Devil pull. In olden times, Religion did much good, Man's benefactor was the priestly hood, — Intoleration triumphed through the land, And Inquisition clenched her bloody hand ; In God's high name foul murderous deeds were done; Fanatics perished with each rising sun : — — It thinned the race ; — each side the other slew, And Bigotry died wallowing 'twixt the two. In India's clime, the Juggernaut held sway, A safer, easier, and a simpler way ; Most other nations held a grand battue, And Kings their courtiers by the thousand slew ; Fevers ran rampant through th' untutored crowd 72 A Claim. Till Man for mercy cried his saints aloud, And yet he flourished,. multiplied, and spread. Then what will hold him now those checks are dead? He kills contagion, fosters public health, Till even Death himself must come by stealth, Though still Consumption's sickly banner waves, And Cholera sweeps thousands to their graves ; Who stops these exits, gives mankind a curse, — Disease is bad, — the antidote is worse. . . Is there no chance : — and must all starve to death ? — Each curse the other with his parting breath ? — Or, by imperious hunger spurred to strife. Turn cannibal, and take his neighbour's life ? Yes ! There is onel — A palliative 'tis true, — But would it last long doubtful ages through,— — Make food ye Chemists I And the one who can,. Bestows real blessings on his fellow-man ; For lack of space, though threatening^s still afar, But treasons batten where the hungry are. With time thus gained, perchance some other cause Will haply make our rapid increase pause : — O'erworking babies, till they lose their wits, Contract brain-fever, and then die in fits: — — The use of drugs and foul tobacco' s weed A Claim. 73 Throug-h generations may affect the breed, — — Our women too, in men's positions placed, Tortured by fashion, and too tightly laced, Made to do head-work, — Oh, there's room for hope, If Man's mad brain be but allowed fair scope! — "What vile reflections!" — "Granted, — but they're true." — "Why do you live ?" "Nay that I might ask you. " Certain it were, did not the human mind " In human life a pleasing balance find, " And, on the whole, the good the bad outvie, " Not one would live, all would make haste to die. "Life's end is happiness; — the object sole " Of each one living is to reach that goal, — " But when your pleasure gives another pain, " The pleasure ceases, for your thoughts remain. " As for myself, contented with my lot, "I take my pleasure when most can be got, " But, »fr unasked, existence is my doom, "Three things I claim: — Peace, Food, and Elbow- ROOM." 74 S. O. B. R. S. O. B. R. j And thou art dead. Gone is thy genial face ; Another lov'd one dropped from Life's hard race. Which still continuous, with unending flow, Changes each moment as its numbers grow. Full in the course, fresh runners ever start, Untired, fresh-winded, to the front they dart ; Anon fast wearying, others fresher still. Pass them triumphant in superior skill, While o'er the concourse, labouring for their breath. Waves the dire aegis of capricious Death. Now one the foremost, now the laggard poor, Now the fresh-starter, now the veteran hoar, The melancholy, gay, the young, and old. The faint heart sluggard, and th' undaunted bold, One, all, and each, promiscuous, feel his force. Turned to dull clay full in their onward course. . . Thus each unnoticed, blooms, and fades away, The boy of yestermorn, a man to-day, To-morrow gone, — remembered but by stone, — 6^. O. B. R. 75 Unmissed, unmourned, — and one more day, — un- known. — Said I unmissed ? — unmourned ? — No, not of thee, While still on Earth remains a thought of me ! When I am gone, then dark Oblivion's wave O'er both shall roll in one eternal grave ! 76 To a Comet. TO A COMET. Hail to the visitor, Nature's inquisitor, Messenger here from huge systems afar ; What untold mystery, lies in thy history ? Whither last cam'st thou, thou wandering star? Emblem of emptiness, speed without impetus, Gaseous thy nucleus, ponderless all ; Shining up yonder, a nomad and wanderer, Till in some sun thou may'st happen to fall ! Shapen so curious, raging and furious. Thou dost appear in the heavens on high, Wisp so ethereal, hardly material, Yet to appearances scourge of the sky ! Flimsy and nebulous, yet to the credulous, Presage of evil, disaster, and woe ; Still all the evidence of thy foul pestilence Rests on thy form in the heavens aglow. To a Comet. 77 During thy travelling, what tangled ravelling Thou must have traced midst the heavens so vast Round stars by the million, through miles by the billion, For long countless ages forgotten and past ! Now thou art leaving us, slowly bereaving us Here of thy weird supernatural mien. Leaving us pondering whither thy wandering Next will direct thee, — to what unknown scene. — 78 A Reflection. A REFLECTION. Man here on earth exerts his feeble rule, O'er things terrestrial undoubted king; All live existence here obeys his will, And he, with rod of iron, — fellest of tyrants — Oppresses weak and strong; — mere playthings they, Created for his pleasure or his use : — — For naught beside ;- no self existent life : — Basest of slaves, interminably doomed To live, toil, perish, at another's will. Whose merest whim outweighs incomp'rable Myriads of lives of Earth's inhabitants. Unfortunates that chance to cross his scheme. And how resist ? No equal match for him Who binds the shifty elements themselves. Wields, forms, transmutes, and works them to his ends By sowing strife betwixt them, using one To aid him in o'ercoming its great fellow, Which had without, his efforts laughed to scorn, A Reflection. 79 But now in turn amenable, doth act To help disrupt a third ; until at last, By perseverance won, they yield themselves A rich and boundless, everlasting- prey. Thus Man, reig^ning- supreme all unopposed O'er this small Earth, doth get to think himself Master of all ; and each existent thing Made for his benefit and his alone; — The cherished pet of the most high Creator, — Who made and set him in this world of ours, — One in a myriad, — insignificant, — — Satellite of a satellite, — and this last Perchance revolving satellite again Round some great body, unknown, unperceived, Plunged in th' abyssmal depths of further space, In size gigantic, inconceivable. Which e'en itself around Infinity Makes revolution slow. Yet this small Earth, Man's own dominion, in importance vast To him, doth lose its insignificance. Which when overlooked, — all else so distant far — Doth make it seem Heart of the Universe And in vast size immeasurably surpass All other orbs, which but as twinkling points 8o A Reflection. Appear; while sea and land, stretching- afar In Nature's majesty where'er we go, Seem limitless because unquittable. . Thus do we hold ourselves removed far, High o'er all other Earth's inhabitants, When in reality, 'tis but our size And utter trivial insignificance. Doth make us mark a difference at all. As some poor Rotifer, or Diatom, Which to our eyes doth seem but as a speck, Shapeless, and indistinguishably small ; Yet to its fellow it appeareth great. And to yet smaller microscopic life E'en as a giant immense, whose uncouth look Doth augur goodly distance should be kept; While us unknown, unguessed at, and unseen, Quite inconceivable, w^ould seem a god. If our existence were but dream't upon. . . Yet less than any Diatom on Earth, We and our globe count in the Universe ; Less, and far less, yet like the Diatom, Seeing ourselves with our own human eyes And reasoning as things appear to us, We hold ourselves the key-wheel of the whole. A Reflection, 8i On whose existence all things else do turn. One amidst myriads, why should this poor Earth Alone know Life, while foul Sterility Places on all the rest her solemn bann ? E'en as the difference 'twixt two Protoplasms, — Which, to our eyes, appear but as a mass Of inert jelly, smooth, and featureless, That but the merest touch might shiver up Into a thousand fragile particles ; — So would the different forms of Earth, compared One with the other, on an equal scale, With the great wonders of high heaven's vault, Which, to our poor, and earthly cultured minds, Appear so vast, quite inconceivable. Save as dim shadows looming through the mist Of dark Infinity ; which but to think upon Doth crush the thinker with his littleness. Oh, to imagine then th' Omnipotent ! Excelling more all cosmic wonders vast By a more infinite Infinity ! Such that all distance and all size must be Annihilated to their uttermost ; And smaller than a grain of sand to us Must range that limitless profundity 82 A Reflection. Of stellar space with Earth engulphed therein. Man, blind, and in his self importance wrapped,. Imagineth his world where he doth dwell. Made, cast, and fashioned, by th' immortal hand Of God alone; who, by the work o'ercome Of making him and his accessories, Required to rest Himself fatigued and tired. Could we insult Him there an insult lay. * His image, of His own Eternal Form A faithful copy, wrought by His own Hand ; ' So says the copy and no doubt doth know : And if He stooped, immeasurably vast, To fashion out that self-sufficient shape, That shape of course, when made, took cognizance Of every form and feature of the Presence, Which on the instant it compared its own. And too the wonders of the Earth alone, With Man and his inferior congeners. Took more, and far more, time for Him to make. Than all th' immensities celestial ! Imagine then the One Omnipotent Carving commandments in a book of stone, When, but the slightest wish Ethereal Had rooted them, indelibly infix'd, A Reflection, ^i^ Deep in the bosom of the human race. Again, consider: at the World's creation, The Universe, Earth, Man, and lower life, Were formed contemporaneously within The 'stricted limits of a day or so : The blasted moon not elder to the orb Which with a belt of fire is circled round, — The ringed wonder Saturn. — Not the less. No Trilobite of pre-Devonian age Out ages Man, all, all were born at once. But while all other life has altered quite. And the long change has left its traces plain In the vast womb of its great mother. Earth, Man, Man alone, unchanged, unchangeable, Superior to such fate, lives on, and on. Nor leaves his sacred bones as witnesses Of his existence in dark ages past. . . Each morn and eve, most men, with grate- ful heart. Return their thanks for dangers safely past. This, though quite needless, still can do no harm If strict confined to simple gratitude ; i But when, from thanks for favours just received. The 'prayer' includes a hope for more to come, G 3 84 A Reflection. Till finally the gratitude is dropped And brazenly man asks his every wish, Which should th' Omniscience will it, he would havej. And if unwilling, all the snivellings Of such a 'microcosm' would unheeded pass ; — — Piously impious — then th' impiety Doth clear reveal itself beneath the show Of a thin garb of outward reverence ! Presumptuous Man ! To think that he can prompt Th' Omnipotent Creator ! Yet 'tis strange That such things being, they must needs be willed ;. Omnipotence would guide the tool it made. Then in the army prayer, wherein His aid, — He who they say has made all men alike, — Is invocated that one sect of them May slaughter, maim, and kill, another race. And carrying devastation in their wake. Lay waste the country round. The peaceful homes^ The products of long years of arduous toil, In one fell day are harried and destroyed, And mournful desolation seizes on The blasted face of a once fruitful land. To aid in this they shamelessly invoke Th' all powerful help of their great All-Creator. A Reflection. 85 Also the prayer for rain, where man presumes, Either, to say a thing is needful now, Whether Omniscience thinks so, or not ; Or else, to jog th' Eternal Memory That such a thing has been too long forgot. Blasphemy ? Nay. Aught w^orth for good or ili Lies in the deed and not the tale thereof. And must we still such relics of the Past, Transmitted down for years by word of mouth. Hold up to reverence and high esteem ? Such fables have obtained in many lands, In various forms, by various peoples sung For ages down ; when Man, incompetent To battle with wild Nature's stormy power, — Insufferably weak, — blown by the winds And worsted by the raging elements, — Would offer up some even feebler thing. Or e'en a weakling of his own slight race, A sacrifice, that he himself might be Unharmed ; and that the angry elements Propitiated, might cease their direful wrath. But as the chain of Time more lengthening grew. And Man, from long immunity, but found His fears increased the threatened ill ten-fold, 86 A Reflection. And growing- more accustomed to such sights As heaving earthquakes, meteors, and the Hke ; He saw, and understood, th' observed effects, And turned his worshipping to what unseen, Uncomprehended, uncontrollable, Had caused these sudden outbursts. In this way First grew Polytheism, which ripening. Became Theogony, which last induced Polycracy. But there confused they stopped. Then a much subtler sect, with foresight great, Went at a bound to the unknowable ; But not enough advanced, did sully it With ancient stories, barbarously strange, Which, like to snowballs, gathering in their course, Got more, and mere, and stranger, and more strange. But now at last, well pruned, and trimmed again. As education keeps its onward pace. To suit the times : — how modified from when They first arose ! Till those called Christians now Would have as pagan infidels been burnt By those stern fathers of the creed's first birth. But though discarding now the most unlikely. And most weirdly strange, of those queer stories. Yet we, but slow advancing, keep withal A Reflection, 87 The groundwork of the structure all intact, With those embellishments which later art, To bolster up the whole, may now insert : Strangely conservative, who thus prefer To prop, and patch, a creed decayed by time, Which weakeneth year by year, than to erect A newer and more strong Theology, Aided by all the facts of modern science, Built on a basis that may last for years; Till our descendants, with extended powers, O'erthrow e'en that again, to substitute A creed still more accordant with known facts, — If creeds but then remain necessities. — Surely 'tis time that dogmas such as this. Where man regards the Universal Power But as himself a million magnified, — And barely that, — should now for ever cease. All punishment designed for Man alone, — Corporeal, e'en though death has supervened, — And future bliss,— wherein imagination Plays the chief part on a contracted base, — Where self-sufficient Man, round his Creator, — All else excluded, — basks and suns himself In the bright power of the Ethereal Presence !— = 88 A Reflection, Assuredly now that Man knoweth more, He cannot deem himself, — mite that he is, Who if to-morrow blotted out creation With his small planet, — all the world to him, — All else quite unaffected would roll on In its accustomed way; — he cannot think Himself e'en now, in verity, the one For whom all else was thus expressly made I A bandoned, 89 LINES WRITTEN BEFORE THE FALL OF KHARTOUM. Abandoned ! — Oh what wealth of sense, Anguish of mind, and pain intense, In that one word is wrapped : Left to the cruel dictates of Fate, Bemoaning trust misplaced, too late. Inveigled and entrapped ! Abandoned ! — In a desert land. Surrounded by a hostile band, Fanatical, and wild; Shall Egypt's vultures, foul, and grim, Gorgers of carrion, feast on him, Our most chivalrous child ? The Bayard of our modern race. But Bayards now seem out of place, — Too high above the rest; — To help in country's need he went, —To martyrdom and long repent — That country leaves its best ! go A bandoned. Attended in his eager haste Through parching- sand and arid waste, By one brave man alone ; Too trusting, — by a gauge too high Judging another's honour. — Why ? — ■ — His standard was his own. — And when he went, men held their breath, He went, 'twas thought, to certain death — Almost foolhardy brave; — But when 'twas known that safe he passed Through Khartoum's gate unharmed at last, A welcome sigh men gave. Lured and enticed by promise fair, To clear our honour he went there, — Glad that the deed might be ; — Then doubly sullied, more, and more, A darker stain than e'er before, 'Twill show till he be free. The valiant chief who warriors led Through China's insurrection red, — The bravest of the brave ; — Abandoned. gi Now cooped within a prison wall, Betrayed by some, mistrusting all, May find a desert grave. Fettered from home, forbade to act By those, — who so they keep intact, Each movement disavow, — E'en still with ev'ry pledge disclaimed, — His words disowned, — his actions blamed, — He hardly murmurs now. And must we wait and see him die ? — Must we perforce stand tamely by — — All impotent to aid ? — Can aught avail to save him still ? — Is there yet time ? — A Nation's will Is wont to be obeyed ! 92 optimistic Life. OPTIMISTIC LIFE. Life is joyous, Life is free, Varied as the azure sea With its changeful tides and breezes, Yet its aspect ever pleases : Sometimes solemn, dark, and grave. Rocking to the languid wave, Telling of the tempest brewing. But to be the calm's renewing When the cloud the stillness nursed To the threatened storm shall burst. And with many a clap of thunder Seek to part the seas asunder. . . Then the forces that were rife Fade upon the scene of strife. And a sunny peaceful quiet Sinks upon the Ocean's riot. And the billows cease to heave, And the angry storm-clouds leave, And the silence seems so holy optimistic Life. 93 One would wish the storm, that solely Might obtain such state of bliss By a contrast such as this. Were it always calm and smooth It would lack its power to soothe ; Even pleasure, how e'er lasting-^ Tastes the better for a fasting : Such is human nature born That that's cherished must be gone Before its fullest worth we learn And fitly value its return. Every pain must have its joy, Too much pleasure would but cloy ; Toil, — though painful, — toil is pleasure. Since by it we cherish leisure : Life is built of joy and pain, Both attend its fleeting reign, One complaint attends the mixture — — That it is not made a fixture, But must fade in Death away At the time of Life's decay. — Life, some say, is full of sorrow, And its joys are vain and hollow, — Is Life necessary then ? — 94 Optimistic Life. Death awaits the beck of men. If distasteful, cast it off ! Bid the evil spirit forth ! Then, if thou believ'st in Heaven, Will thy Soul be Sorrow's leaven, Or, if thou dost think in Hell Suicides must surely dwell, Thither then thou art contracted. Evil wished's as bad as acted. Yet 'tis true the Pious say Men are in an evil way Who enjoy Life's empty pleasures And attempt to cull its treasures. Rather, say they. Life is bad, And its whole surroundings sad, Tis a trivial bond and fetter Only borne to lead to better ; But if ye will bear it bravely, Then these sages tell ye gravely, There's eternal bliss in store Recompense for what ye bore. Rather, say L * Be contented, They have never yet repented Who sipped the sweets this Life had grown, optimistic Life. 95 Nor for the shadow dropped the bone.' Life, they say, is of God's making, Surely then 'tis worth the taking, Judging by a human mind. Could thoughts Eternal be divined, Who Life's joys gave no denial Would best deserve a second trial ; For the sanctimonious priest Who denied himself the feast Mighfe'en sniff at Heaven's rapture Angling for a further capture. . . Yes ! To all is Life a blessing, And its pleasures worth caressing ! Look at Nature fair and bright Steeped in floods of purest light ! Hear the happy feathered nation Warbling thanks for their creation I See the corn and leafy trees Bending to the evening breeze ! Hear the rustle and the murmur As the evening shades grow firmer, Till at last a settled sleep, Sinks on forest, shore, and deep ! See the stars, and moon uprisen g6 Optimistic Life. Half above the dark horizon ; Then say Life is false and vain, And I answer. ' 'Tis thy brain Which Education has diseased Until it simply can't be pleased/ Chance, 97 CHANCE. Muffle the bells ! Let Memory toll the dirge, And tune the mind to Melancholy's throb For him forever gone ! Let pagan chimes no sexton urgOj But let each rising sob Heaving in mournful cadence, ebb and surge In Griefs impulsive dawn. So thou art dead. — Passed like a dream away,— ■ — A dream whose sweet remembrance saddens me That it should be a dream. — ■ — A drop of purest brightness merged for aye In deep Oblivion's sea, Into whose tideless gulfs at Death's decay Time rolls his endless stream. — gS Chance. Man's life is as a raindrop's. From the cloud Which in the dim beginning wrapp'd him rounds Blurr'd in the misty whole, He glides with Being's gift endowed Through airs where storms abound, Till fading Memory weaves his shroud And Death receives his Soul ! How like a droplet leaves pale cloudland's clime! • — Glistens a moment in the sun of Life, And feels the fretful blast; Then, darkening, fades in Death sublime. And sweeps from earthly strife A fleeting dimple on the stream of Time To the Ocean of the Past ! — How slight Man is, from this Man might have guessed; No great comparisons can show his state That swell his empty pride. The frailest similes do fit him best And match his paltry Fate ; The life of Man is fitly thus expressed, — He lived; and wondering, died. — I Chance, gg He lived. — On what faint chance did being hang! — — His mother met his sire. — Their parents too, Before had met in love ; — And to that cause from which those parents sprang" Each ancestor was due. — Yes ! Man must own with many a pride born pang 'Tis Chance that rules above ! Chance, — the great Deity of human life, — Philosophers may lie, and say thou art Sequence ill-understood; Thou guid'st our course through paths where woes are rife, — The cause of every smart ! — Thou turn'st to placid groves the streets of strife, —The cause of every good 1 — And yet thou art not, all-pervading- Thing ?— ■ — Thou hast no power o'er human life's estate To stretch or curb its span ? — Tell't not to me ! I hold thou art a King-, — Ruler of life, and fate,— Swaying with every breath, with careless swing, The littleness of Man,— f H2 loo Chance, Oh, had I uttered but one single word Or more, or less, upon that fateful day When last 1 saw the dead, That mournful moment had not now occurr'dy Chance had turned Death away, The changed events the time of doom deferr'dj, And Life had reigned instead. Oh, had I given one more parting kiss. Waved one more farewell, wept one burning tear^ More than the deed had known. The dead's mourned voice we should not miss. Though from its earthly bier. Bound for the mythic realms of cloudless bliss> Myself's free soul had flown I Yea, such a despot is this ruler Chance, He makes each helpless child unwitting kill Friend, foe, and stranger, all : A word, a nod, the merest glance. May change the thoughts and will ; A whispered sound, a buzzing gnat's advance. May be the hearer's pall. Chance, loi Each day fresh courses by the million show : Man chooses blindly, and from course to course Gropes his dark way along, One leads to pleasure, and the next to woe^ Though so alike their source, None can the one from other know Or tell the right from wrong. Oh, had we missed one action in the Past, — One simple thought or deed however slight, — How had our paths been changed ! Nay reader start not back aghast. But, by these words I write My pencil a fresh die has cast, And Life is rearranged ! Existence is : we beings know not why. We taste sensation in a world forlorn, Then pass we know not where ; By chance we live, by chance we die, By greater chance are born, Great Man's whole life is as a fleeting sigh Dissolving into air ! I02 Life — A Dream. LIFE— A DREAM, One summer's day, high o'er the Ocean's strand I walked in pensive mood. The turf around, "With dotted eyebright gleamed ; my clumsy feet From sturdy patches of luxuriant thyme Expressed the fragrant scent. Yet I was sad. — The towering cliff, — the sullen Ocean's roar,— — The glorious sun in noon-day radiance calm, — — The might of Nature in her majesty, — Oppressed my burden'd soul. But though oppressed^ Its sadness yet was sweet, its pain was joy. . . Full on the topmost summit of the cliff, Where rising turf a grassy hillock made, I lay me down and thought. The murm'rous roar Of chafing pebbles 'neath the long smooth swell Swam in the summer air. No soul was near : It was a scene of Nature as she was Before the time of Man. Entranced I mused ; And Earth, and Heav'n, and Life, in sequence owned Possession of my mind. I thought on Death^ Life — A Dveam. 103 The Future, and the Past : whence all things came, The dim Beginning-, and the darker End, My mind in reverie limned. The mystic spell Still deeper bound my soul. More faint, and blurr'd, Still dimmer, grew the sense. I fell asleep. Yet all-continuous still, the train of thoughts Continued in a dream. . . Lo ! And I stood Hard by an ancient temple ; — old and strange, — Of massive pillars of grey granite stone, Which, towering vast in uncouth sculptury, Reared up the mountain side. But all was still : And o'er the porch an old-world legend ran In unknown characters. I gazed in awe: And then I saw a venerable man, With white beard flowing to his ancles bare, Propp'd on a staff of gnarled oak's knotty root. Who beckoned me; and as I looked at him He bade me venture in. Strange words he spake. And I in strange replied : yet though first heard. Their import then I knew, and followed him. . . Through vasty halls of polished marble bright I followed and he led ; — through galleries 104 ^^f^ — ^ Dream. Hewn in the solid rock, which yet were hght Though there no taper burned. On, and still on. Through many a labyrinth, and dubious maze, My hoar conductor passed; till, with a sign He bade^top, and grasped my arm, and led Me to a giddy edge. . . There all in front A mighty vault of sparkling adamant, Rift each way to the heavens, opened out. Forth up the misty chasm vapours rolled From Nadir to the Zenith, slow, and grand ; And as my sight accustomed to the glare I felt constrained to speak. With hollow voice^ Not knowing what I said, I thuswise spake. "Immortal Spirits ! — ^Ye who guide the world ' Of human littleness ; — Ye Essences ~ * For whom the mist of Fate resolves itself * In forms as yet unborn, — for whom the Past 'Unrolls the scroll of Time. — Ye at whose nod ' Unfurl the secrets of the Universe, — * Vouchsafe to hear the humble prayer of one, ' A lowly child of Earth. My mind's unrest, 'Amidst my wisdom's ever widening growth, * Makes deepening shadows spread. I cannot tell 4f that I am, or am not. If I am; Life — A Dream, 105 * Of what composed ? What is my destiny, * And my relation to the world at large ? * My mind is steeped in doubt : to Ye I plead * To lay the mist that cramps my sight, and would * Know my just place in Nature. Here on earth ' High lord of all I stand, and with your aids * Have bowed all forms beneath me. Yet I see, ' In twinkling myriads, all around me shine * Unknown and mighty worlds. How many they ! * What lies beyond those hosts ? In that still space, * Where toiling sight must now aweary sink, ' Nor pierce the dark impenetrable veil * Of wall-like blackness born of distance vast, — *In that, were placed my home, would still beyond, ' — For ever on through unknown realms of night, — * Stretch the star-spangled firmament ? Or say, ' Is that the limit, from whose tottering verge ' The soul appalled looks forth into the depths * Of the black gulf of dark eternity ? " With that, methought, the walls asunder burst. Though they stood shiftless to the curious sight, And opposite a Voice of Thunder spake In mighty accents forth. . . " I answer thee. io6 Life — A Dream. 'It would. It is not. All yon starry skies ' Are but as dewdrops on a thistledown ' Midst the wide world that is. Thou see'st a part ' Of one grand Whole : that part how wondrous great ! ' How far beyond thy slight imaginings ! * Inscrutable, profound, and dark to thee ! ' How then that Whole, which, to thy feeble mind, ' Seems built of contradictions ! Gauge thyself : 'Ponder thy natural worth : then how should'st thou, ' A feeble unit midst a world of noughts, * Evolve the mighty sum ! Unlike thyself, ' Unlike thy fixed ideas, thou canst not weigh * Such mighty thoughts with facts deduced from Earth. ' — -A Whole unborn, undying, limitless, ' So all-pervading that it fills the gulf * Of empty Nowhere, and those deeper depths * Which Thought alone can plumb; — a boundless thing, ' Which no beginning and no ending hath, ' Whose outer confines lead the vent'rous mind ' Midst such a mazy wilderness, it tires ; ' For when in view it seems the border lies, ' That desert, not a desert, widens out. Life — A Dream. 107 'And numb, surprised, the baffled thoug-ht, which yet ' In fancy saw a land where nothing was, ' Still in the centre stands. '" — The accents ceased. The voice was loud and grand, yet passionless. And calmly cold. But scarce the echoes died. Which for a time adown the bright abyss Reverberating ran, than forth afresh. Another voice, in clear sonorous tones. Appalled the hearer thus. *•' Ambitious Man ! * Midst what immensities thy visions soar ! * How far beyond thy sphere ! Curb thy wild thoughts. ' Thou art. What thing that is, could ever tell 'The reasons whence it sprang.? Thy boldest minds, * With the proud theories that they venture forth, * But probe the secrets of the Universe, *As some poor snail, half timid, and half bold, * With dubious horn in cautious movement thrust, * Scans thy shght human world. Thy wish is vain. ' Were I to tell thee of the worlds beyond, * And in its details limn each wondrous realm, *Thou couldst not comprehend. And how shouldst thou, *So small and tri\aal midst the whole so vast 1" io8 Life — A Dream. I heard and trembled. Then my comrade spoke, And bade me be of cheer. I turned to him. An hour-glass held he in his hand, from which The sand coursed down apace. He motioned it. And bade me speak, and trifle not with Time. Obediently, I answered pensive thus. "Small? — Trivial.? — Yes. O'er my awakening mind * That sad eclipse of further knowledge creeps, * And o'er my grandest thoughts such shadows casts, ' They darken ere they form. Oh, happy state, 'When in the morning of my reason's growth 'Things were but as they seemed! When to the brain 'The beauteous smallness of the distance owed ' No dull perspective rules ; but when alone, 'Full in the foreground of my vision's ken, ' Myself stood Lord of all ; and thronged around, ' Celestial wonders joyed my wistful eye 'And throbbed the brain with thoughts of majesty 'Which from its smallness sprang. Alas, 'tis gone! 'And now amidst a wilderness I stand, ' Lost in the vastness of the world of space, * As some small ant amidst the desert shores Life — A Dream. 109 * Of great Sahara wild. . . That outer world, * Are its components real and tangible ? 'Are they grave facts, or but the phantasies * Of that I call my mind ? Or is it that * Distorted visions fill the human world ; ' — Firm images, inverted, changed, and vexed, 'Which to events bear correlation true, 'But not exact, but by a natural law, * Warped by the medium that transmits the sense ? " — Again I paused : again that awesome voice Resounded through the cavern's misty breadth And shook its crystal walls. This time I knew The voice of Science, and in reverence bow'd. Listened with 'bated breath. The accents thus, " Thyself exists : thyself doth tell thee so. ' If not, thou thinkest not; therefore thyself ' Could not conceive thou wert not, nor to me ' Address thy conscious prayer. If thy mind is, ' A mind to thee exists ; and to thy mind * A complex form of Matter binds itself. * If Matter is not, thou art not ; for thou ' Art formed of Matter, so thy mind declares. * Therefore, if thou dost think aught thing is real, * Thyself is real, and all things else are too : no Life — A Dream. ' For if thou think'st thou art a phantasy, ' 'Tis but a phantasy doth think thee so. 'Thy knowledge must be relative, and if ' Thou art not, neither then thy thoughts can be. ' Something there is : — ' nothing can come of no- thing : '— * Where something is, from something thai has come : ' That consciousness exists, none can deny ; ' For if denying, then their reason's void, ' Unconscious of the lines of argument. ' Thou feel'st a conscience and thou know'st it real; ' — How know it real, if not thyself art such .? — * If rqal thyself, Matter is real, and Mind, ' And round thee shines an Universe of one, ' Within thee of the other, where alone ' Itself can find itself." Faint sank the sound; It ceased. The second voice took up the tale, And Reason spoke aloud. " View things at large. * The sophistry of self on self is vain : ' Such petty details weary out the mind : * Expand thy thoughts ; grasp in the Universe ; * Winnow the facts that bear upon thy theme, ' Sift, measure, weigh, and from the mighty whole ' Extract the average. If things seem real, Life — A Dream. iii ' And uniformly all things to thy mind * Bear always like results ; then they are true, * And thou art real, and all the world is real ; ' 'Tis Reason tells thee so. Those who deny, 'Deceive themselves, and ultra- sceptic grown, * Slight their true thoughts and doubt for doubting's sake." I gathered heart, and eager spoke my mind. " Myself is real. External things exist : * And so the' image that my brain doth paint ' Must have existence too. But is it true ? ' Do things in Nature bear the shape and form 'The eye conveys the brain ?". . . Th' impassive voice The awful silence broke, and thus replied. "The facts are there, but how those facts are read ' Must vary as the reader. Thy one race, ' Although alike in outward semblance formed, ' Yet varies in itself : two sects there are, ' To which the tints on Nature's canvass spread ' Seem strange and opposite. Could each but glance ' For half a moment through its neighbour's eyes, ' Oh, how the world would change ! What simple things 112 Life — A Dream. 'Would then yield place to strange monstrosities ! ' If Sig-ht alone can such a difference show, ' What must the Mind, —that strange Auroral force ' Built on the focus of the rays of sense ; — ' Which owes its being to the five conjoined, *Yet which each separate sense must shade and mould ' With corresponding character ? How then * Must facts seem changed. And midst the myriad shapes * Of Nature's Universe, the separate minds, 'Each different as the form to which conjoined, ' Must differ in their thoughts. And canst thou say, ' — Thou, one of myriads in the world of space, — ' The rest are colour blind ? The facts exist ; ' But as they seem to thee in their effects, ' They to none other seem. Th' effect is thine. 'Thy powers of sense in the transmission change ' The facts to suit thy mind ; they cannot give ' But what thy mind can take ; and all that comes, ' Must come through channels biassed humanly." My mind grew warm. I ventured to reply; And thinking o'er the doubts that vexed my brain Amidst the cares of life ; to be resolved. Life — A Dream. 113 I spake as follows. '* In our state of Life 'Two thing's make up the Man, — the body formed 'Of Matter, — and those finer essences ' Which some men call the Soul. — Can one exist ' Without the other ? Are they separate ? ' When dieth the body, can the Soul then roam * Amidst the Matter of the Universe ? ' At that dread parting- doth the Soul retain 'Its self-existence, or amidst the whole ' Of one vast airy spirit-ether merge ? * Is it the Soul doth form a nucleus, * And, as a magnet midst the dust of iron, ' Draws Matter to itself; till some great power, 'Stronger than it, doth break the being up, ' Set free the force, and leave the Matter, dead, ' To decompose into its elements ' Whose chains the Soul had bound ? ' Doth the Soul progress as the body doth ? 'Is it immortal in itself; or but ' In substance, as the grosser body is ? ' Am I composed of dual elements .? ' — Of Mind and Matter ? — or is one a sham, ' Which on itself the other doth impose ? * In mesmerism, second-sight, and trance, I 114 ^^f^ — ^ Dream. ' The Mind doth leave the body : instinct too 'Proclaims them separate, and but conjoined ' To make the ' Ego' up. What too is Sleep ? ' And does that strange, yet common, least known, Death 'Blight everlastingly?", . . . With that, me- thought, A heavy silence fell ; till my old guide Uplifted high his hand, and signed in air Some mystic symbol of portentous might. With that the light broke stronger from the rock, And now again the Voice of Science spoke. " All-daring Man, I had not answered thee, 'But .that to Time my secrets all must bow, ' Sapped by the energy of Ages' toil, * Some things thou canst not know, e'en in the way ' That all thy knowledge is. The Infinite, ' The great Commencement, and the Reigning Power, 'Are things beyond thy ken. But thy poor Soul * Is simply formed ; all open lies its course, ' Which nakedly doth show its mode of growth 'To every searching eye. Thou know'st thyself 'Thy frail material form is small and slight 'Midst Nature's awful compass; how shouldst then Life — A Dream, 115 *The mighty power that thou dost give thy Soul ' Keep company with it. Be sure each one ' Is well proportioned to its bondfellow. ' — A reservoir of glorious spirit force, ' And when thou diest, thy soul is reabsorbed * In the primeval ether ! — Pretty tale ! ' Poetic, pleasing, false ! Poor paltry Man ' Who dislikes blotting out ; dream on ! Dream on ! ' Build thy air castles with the coloured lights 'That tint the rainbow's rim ! There pass thy life. * But when the structure fades, and in its place * Scowls the dark thunder-cloud, then blame not me ! . . ^ But Instinct whispers ; 'Death is but a change : ' 'Thou art immortal and, dost live for aye ! ' ' Doth Instinct tell of Death ? No ! Reason doth : ' For Instinct prompts * Thy body will not die ' ' But Reason tears this Instinct's garb aside, ' And, lo! there stands, false, trembling, wistful, Hope, ' The arch-deceiver ; Disappointment's dam. ' True Science owns no theories built in air * Whose sole foundations are their pleasantness. ' Look thou around. 'Tis Matter meets thy sight, ' And things material flourish everywhere. * The properties of substance thou dost know I 2 ii6 Life— A Dream. 'In part. How many, strange, and various, they? * Thy body owns the laws of chemistry, * Built up complex of many laws besides. * Thou see'st how Matter under different laws ' Produces strange results. How crystals grow "In one unwearied form. How Gravity ' Can act through Emptiness. How Heat can cause ' The flow of Motion, and that peerless force, ' Strange Light least understood. Thyself, the last, * Can cause that grand and highest attribute, ' The force of Life. All Nature's forces blend ' In even sequence up the scale of power, 'And differ in result. In Nature 'round, ' 'Tis Gravity gets Heat. From these there spring 'Motion and Light. The simpler forces are 'Attendant upon Matter. — Those more high * Depend more on conditions, and the last, ' Great Life, in such a slender balance lies, ' It perishes on change. The next remov'd, ' Strange Electricity, produces Light, * Heat, Sound, and Motion, — all but Life, — and that * It imitates in all its lowly forms. ' Yet thou, as living, in the force of Life 'Detect some super-subtle element. Life — A Dream. ii ' I am not bound to tell thee if such is. 'It may be true. It is a secret Time * Will never wring from out the depths of Truth * By any human brain. But when Life is ; ' How thou hast come is clear : — grown by the laws * Peculiar to all Life, — that wondrous pair, * Self-preservation and Heredity. — * Amidst the sequences of those two laws * Stand foremost mind and sight. The senses are * But as the lenses to converge the rays * Which in the head piece paint the photograph. *The brain is but the sensitive to take ^ Impressions from without. Development, ' To guard the being from an injury, ^Has formed a third,— the Mind. — Upon the brain, *The images, and their effects, are stored; * The Mind connects the two. And w^hen a train ' Of fixed events doth always follow one, * 'Tis by experience when that appears *The Mind predicts the rest. Sleep is the state ' In which the senses, numb with day-time's use, ' Rest, to arise revived. They then are dead * To normal things around. The brain, left still, ' Needs idle too, unless the wandering Mind, ii8 Life— A Dream. * With image upon image, fancy piled, * Stamps there its empty dreams. Most often though, * The Mind, shut off from fresh external facts, * Exhausts its airy theme soon after sleep ' Has closed the senses up. Imperfect sleep, * When some blunt sense, not wholly numb, can yet * Transmit impressions, most abounds in dreams. 'But Death ! — The body shrivelled to decay, * The organs changed and all sensation gone — * — The bleared eyes no longer own the light, ' Nor the deaf ears the sound — The brain will pass ' Into its elements ; — and yet the Mind ' That weaves the solid prints that dot the brain 'Into its airy fabrics, lives for aye ! ' Man ! Thou art Matter, and thy Soul is but ' The dreamy track of evanescent force ! " Sharp burst the Voice of Reason through the mist And these dread accents fell. " Presumptuous Man ! * Thou seek'st the truth before thou well canst grasp ' Its mighty meaning. Get thee back to Earth : 'Thou art not ripe for Nature's secrets yet, 'And in the Hall of Truth I tell thee so. ' Thy Mind deludes itself; and in its hopes Life— 'A Dream, iic ' Of Immortality but conjures up ' Fine phrensies baseless as the mirag-e thin * Which greets the eye of sun-parched traveller * In Afric's desert bare. He is as thou * Amidst the Universe : he waits but Death ; * And, in his hopelessness, vain thoughts of bliss * Toy with his feeble brain. He knows them false : ' Yet for the pleasure that its falseness gives ' He cherishes the dream. Ephemeral thing ! ' Like him, thy whitened skeleton shall mark ' The track of endless Time. Go back and wait. ' All force resolves itself. The natural end ' Of earthly Life is Death ; and thy poor Soul ' Must meet the doom of Nature. Back and wait * The blighting spell of the eternal grave ! ". . . With that, methought, the walls together rushed, And in a flash of blinding brightness passed Without a sound away. Then all was dark : And presently I waked. The Moon burst forth : And clear above me shone down nakedly The cold impassive stars. I roused me up. The evening air was still. I slowly walked In meditation down the grassy slope That led me to my home. The dew fell fast. 120 Life — A Dream, There was a sense of cheerful warmth on earth, A coldness in the sky. I seemed to feel A gentle breath, as if the Earth had sighed, Go upwards into Space. And then I thought, — Can Death be such ? — My body, like the Earth, Is vexed and changed with seasons; youth, and age, And troublous storms, make it their battle-ground ; Then, at the parting, may my Soul expand As is the sky, all limitless, — serene In calm beatitude? — Thus argued Hope; My dream but answered ' Nay ! Remember me ! ' Sweet scents hung in the air. High o'er my head, In countless myriads, the bright orbs of Space Twinkled in Heaven's dark domed canopy; And as I mused, the restless sea below. With its soft surges, soothed my soul's profound With thoughts of sadness past. Yet naught I saw : No shadows met my eye ; no sounds my ear; I merely thought: 'Can such be, — Is this, — Life.?' . Haeckeliaiia. 121 HAECKELIANA. The professor sings. Although I use words full six syllables long, And my meaning is weak, but tautology strong, I'm sure I'm a poet by nature; Just listen, I pray, to the soul-stirring lay, Which is certain, I'm sure, to make every one say — 'That's a precious well backed candidature.' — Be it known that I trace your birth; — you— the reader: — At first you're an egg', — or I rather believe a Small one-celled, quite spherical, quasi-Amoeba. — — That's when you were Not : — or perhaps I should say. Before that eventful, thrice glorious, day. When the Spermatozoon, alias Zoospermium, (Excuse me I took a long time in thus learning 'em) Was injected on Uterus, Egg- duct, and Ovulum, 122 Haeckeliana. Into, and onto, all round 'em, and over 'em. . . The Spermatozoa, — funny, Tadpole-like, particles, — Very soon wrig'gled into these last mentioned arti- cles : . —After they wrigg-led in, 'twas j/^z^ wrig-gled out — And that's how the matter came about ! . . . But, before you escaped in that elegant W8y, You went through some changes I may as well say. When they thus fertilized you, — a poor simple cell, — You lost your Germ Vesicle; — why, I can't tell ; — A Monerula then, you became straight a Cytula, —Indeed, these queer changes became quite habitu- lar ; — Nucleus, Nucleolus, and what not, you lost. In your strange creepy movements entirely engrossed; Successively Cytula, Morula, Blastula, You finally turned to a rum-looking Gascrula! Then your Germ Layers split ! — And while you yet feared, Your Horn Plate, Skin Muscle, and Kidney, appeared, All jumbled and mixed, — though in beautiful order, — With Medullary, Intestines, Ac .=:, and Chorda. One time like a Worm ; — Amphioxus the next, — By your own gradual changes involved and perplexed, Haeckeliana. 123 What you are you don't know ;— what you may be's uncertain — Fish ? Bird ? Beast ? or Reptile ? shut up in a curtain ! — — A Fish now you aren't ; — whatever you may be, — — A Tortoise, Dog-, Chicken, Cow, Rabbit or Baby, — Your gills have dried up : now your eyes are too small For the Tortoise and Chicken ; and now too withal Your swollen pot-stomach proclaims you a mammal, Be it Horse, Cat, or Pig-, Man, Monkey or Camel ! Now your limbs are more grown : — why you're get- ting some fingers ! — Though your caudal appendage still painfully lingers; So you aren't a hoofed animal : — may be, a Rabbit, A Monkey, or Man, may your carcase inhabit. — Now your tail's disappeared ! Well I'm d d ! — Yes, it may be ! — I'm hanged if you ain't a real live squalling Baby ! ! The End. CM ^i iMMiip LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 014 153 186 4 .t#!?;''- QJ^