I ADVERTISEMENT. This Work can be had from Messrs. Edward Moxon, Son and Co., 44, Dover Street, W., or by Order from any Bookseller. ' PILGRIMS: % $ oem. BY THE (X'ywvcx/ 7T\oOTjugu ■ HON. MRS. DE BLAQUIERE. PRIVATELY PRINTED. 1869. 205449 5 13 this little work is DEDICATED iHp 2>at JRot&er, TO WHOSE KIND ENCOURAGEMENT ITS COMPLETION IS MAINLY DUE. PILGRIMS. Life's Pilgrims ! struggling to attain some shrine Of faith, love, liberty, or whate'er truth, Or small, or great, the soul has strength to grasp By which to raise itself from earth to Heaven. Unsatisfied — in that the end is seen Not here but there. I. Near where the Tiber's patriarchal flow Rolls 'neath the arches of the Angelo, A palace stands. In vain the lucent smile Of sunshine lingers on the gloomy pile ; No sun however bright can e'er restore The glories Time has dimmed for evermore ! Above the portals, half defaced by age, Some sculptured arms bespeak a lineage Princely and old. A warrior of the line, In the Crusades of Holy Palestine, B 2 PILGRIMS. Had chosen in remembrance of the war For badge, a crescent and attendant star, With motto circling; " From the Eastern sky I shall return in greater majesty." Vain words ! which now a ruined shield infold To mock the glories that they once foretold. Beyond the entrance is a court inlaid With marbles, girded by a wide arcade, 'Neath which amidst the solemn shadows lie Fragments of torsi and sarcophagi, Within Campagna's mighty storehouse found — For countless ages buried underground. But where the court is open to the'day, Half shrouded in a fountain's glistening spray, Is crouched the Queen of Love, whilst from her shell The plaintive waters murmuring to the well, Appear lamenting with soft falling tears, The pow'r and glory of departed years. Around the Court, within th' encircling walls, Are ranged saloons and mirth-chilled banquet halls, A POEM. 3 Where not an echo lingers to recall The revels of forgotten festival. Adorned are they by master-hands of yore With frescoed scenes of legendary lore ; Or hung with treasures from the Flemish looms, Which, dimly seen within the darkened rooms, Suspend in epic folds upon the wall — Of their own splendour, the funereal pall ! Sometimes it chances that an errant ray Creeps in, and glides across the tapestry, As though t'would fain restore with gleaming thread The lustre other suns have withered. 'Tis then, perchance — deserting worlds above — That round the arras the dead craftsmen move, Who, faithful still to work they loved of old, Repair their weaving with celestial gold. Within the galleries — in state enshrined — Repose the relics of creative mind. There, on the canvas, lastingly endure The mellow tints of Titian of Cadore ; And fervidly th' unrivalled colours glow Of Castel Franco's wondrous Georgio, B 2 4 PILGRIMS. Whilst saintly figures rest beneath the spell Of Urbino's inspired Raphael. These gems of art their serried ranks maintain, Though wealth and influential grandeur wane ;' For fallen nobles guard with jealous pride Those heirlooms that the Past has sanctified, Preserving still th' illusory display Of dignity, when power has passed away, And idly bask within the slanting rays Of glory lingering from the former days. But some there are with loftier dreams of fame, Who scorn the borrowed halo of a Name, Save as a basis to be fraught anew With the great actions they themselves shall do. 'Tis thus that Claudio, of th' illustrious line Descending from the Knight of Palestine, Has learned to estimate his lineage, And prize his now impoverished heritage, As workmen glory in the fallen tree For which they shape a nobler destiny. No charm for him possess the pictured walls, The phantom honour of his fathers' halls ; A POEM. 5 No charm for him the false inglorious pride That lingers vainly where all else has died ; Undazzled by his predecessors' state, Their acts alone he yearns to emulate. His mind already plans heroic schemes — And — not content with ineffectual dreams — He is enrolled within the patriot band Of heroes vowed to die, or free their land. * >\z >jc * >;c It is the eve of Lent. Avoiding all The crowds assembled for the Carnival, Claudio the Ghetto treads. No tinted ray Can enter there to charm the night away Or woo one instant from the darkness. Where The shadows cluster in the Cenci Square He passes — heedless of Beatrice's fate, And through the archway of the Jewish Gate Speeds to the Quattro Capi,* where the skies Are flooded with the day's last brilliancies, * The Bridge of Quattro Capi is the ancient Pons Fabricius. It crosses the Tiber to the Island of JEsculapius, or Isola di San Barto- lomeo. The piers of the arches are ornamented with heads of Janus. O PILGRIMS. Whilst — as unto a sacrificial fire — Phoebus sinks slowly to the funeral pyre Himself has kindled. With a last caress He bathes the world he leaves in loveliness, And his extended arms of flame infold Trastevere's* proud walls, and change to gold The sepia palaces. Upon the piers, Which Janus guards throughout the changing years, The radiance strikes and casts upon the tide, Their forms reflected quivering side by side. Ah ! would that Truth and Liberty had given Their light where only now shines that of Heaven ! Borne from afar the giddy Maskers' cries, Strike dissonant with Roman destinies. " Unseemly jesters ! Romans but in name ! Can ye thus wantonly parade your shame, * The inhabitants of Trastevere claim the purest Roman descent ; and, it is said, refuse to intermarry with their fellow citizens on the opposite bank of the Tiber. A POEM. 7 Letting your tyrants triumph as they see How they have crushed your last of dignity ? Yet thanks to heaven ! some few remain to us Who dwell in Rome and yet are valorous ! Some few chivalrous hearts who soon shall hold No broken mirror to the days of old ! " Thus Claudio — then whilst in the fading west, The last long sunbeam folds itself to rest, And all the beauties of the wearied light Sink softly sleeping to the arms of night, He passes on unto that island shore Whence ^Esculapius in the days of yore, Transported from the distant shrines of Greece In serpent semblance, made the plague to cease. There — from a vault-like entry, high and wide, Chilled by the vapours from the neighbouring- tide, — A lantern swings. Beneath its flickering glare Arise the marbles of a time-worn stair, Up which springs Claudio to a spacious room Where age has settled moodily to gloom, O PILGRIMS. Where tattered curtains brown with time and dust And arms once red with blood, but now with rust, And faded frescoes of that marriage day* Centaurs dishonoured by a murderous fray — Are all commingled in a misty haze, Within a shaded lamp's uncertain rays. A restless figure pacing to and fro Starts with a greeting ; " Welcome, Claudio ! Again are we the first ! These schemes allay The thirst for right that rots my life away ! There is a burning zeal within my soul Impatient of the maddening control Delay exacts, and which would rashly break All barriers of prudence, and would make This revolution by one mighty blow ! By one fell swoop sink all our tyrants low ! " * Marriage day of Pirithous. A POEM. 9 " Yet is there sometimes reason in delay For actions too precipitant might stay The cause they blindly purpose to progress And stem the chance of ultimate success." And then, as rebel stars meet one by one To claim the empire of the setting sun, Come other patriots to discuss the schemes By which they hope to realize their dreams ; And Claudio, rising to address the band, Accents his words with an uplifted hand : " As when some warrior overcome by pain And long unconscious on the bloody plain, Revives, to aim an unexpected blow With deadly vigour at his heedless foe, — E'en thus the spirit of the Roman race, Subdued, enfeebled, conquered for a space, Revives, with subtle purpose to oppose Th' ascendency of Rome's triumphant foes ! Unhappy Rome ! where truth has lost her light, And wrong bewilders in the garb of right. IO PILGRIMS. Oh ! men of Rome ! sons of a race of kings ! Whose valour, echoing through the ages, rings Like martial music from a distant plain Resounding midst the mountains, — now again Renew the strain, that it may never die, But vibrate onward to eternity !" He pauses, — for a whisper smites his ear : " Hist ! speak no further — there's a traitor here ! " As when some startled gazer's heav'n-turned glance Beholds a meteor flash the dark expanse, And striving to discern its course afar, Deems each unchanging orb the fallen star, — E'en thus do Claudio's troubled glances fall On those around — suspicious of them all ! Unconsciously he grasps the ready knife — The prompt defender of the Roman's life. " Nay, stay thy weapon, noble Claudio ; wait — All may be lost if too precipitate. A POEM. II See where yon tapestries so darkly fall Beside that frescoed panel in the wall, There stand three figures — two of them we know, The Counts of Benvicin' and Urbino, — ■ The third — who with such obvious caution holds Himself enveloped in his toga's folds — • Say, know'st thou him ?" " No ! but per Bacco ! soon Too well for him I'll know the base poltroon ! " And shaking off his friend's restraining clasp, He springs upon the foe ! With iron grasp He brands his strength upon the muffled arm, Whilst through th' assembly spreads a vague alarm, And shouts commingle in a deafening cry, •' A spy ! secure the traitor ! treachery ! " Then midst the clamour, rising sweet and clear A voice is heard, " Unhand me, Prince ! For- bear!" Unmanned and vanquished by a single word, Claudio starts back dismayed ! His hand has stirred 12 PILGRIMS. The toga's folds — they fall — and tumult dies Before the radiance of a woman's eyes ! A woman ! Of that beauteous type which smiles Upon Venetia's Venus favoured isles ! As bright the shimmering of her golden hair As though the Lido's sands were sprinkled there ; As deep the lustre of her purple eyes As moonlit ether in Italian skies. Half shrouded by an emerald-gleaming vest, Emotion troubled heaves her snowy breast, Arising purely from the folds beneath As a white flow'ret from its verdant sheath. " Melina !— Here !— at night !— alone ! " Thus low, In broken utterances, Claudio. " Nay, chide me not ; an over-acted jest Has brought me hither, — an unwelcome guest." Thus she — soft-toned — to him, and then aloud, With words submissive, but with gesture proud — A POEM. 13 As of a queen dethroned, who would hide Her loss of dignity by added pride — " Romans ! the plea I offer to you all Must be the licence of the Carnival. My cousin Claudio, importuned long, Refused to join the Corso's brilliant throng, And half in wonder, half in girlish glee, I vowed to solve th' unwonted mystery Of his ascetic mood ; and, unbetrayed Beneath this toga's friendly folds, I strayed, Pursuing him across the Tiber's flood, And thus — beyond the bounds of maidenhood. And now my honour rests with you, whilst / Hold secrets hazarding your liberty ; In mutual threats then, be our safety laid, Who first denounces, be at once betrayed !" She pauses, and as music from a song Suspended, on the hushed air vibrates long, E'en thus her accents thrill throughout the hall, Nor die till they have touched the hearts of all. 14 PILGRIMS. And then the Leader of the rebel band With reverence kneels to kiss the lady's hand ; " Believe us, Princess, we would rather see Our visions fade like golden mists at sea, And forfeit all our glorious dreams by death, Than wrong thy virtue by a single breath ; Not all the laurels from the brow of Fame Absolve the slanderer of a woman's name ! " And Claudio, silent whilst his leader speaks, Marks well the haughty glance and kindling cheeks Of her, whose beauteousness seems made to try How swift from heav'n love's winged darts can fly! Yet in his breast forebodings strange and dim Annul the magic of her charms for him. Thus sometimes when the northern ocean gleams Exultant in the summer's radiant beams, A breath from unseen ice-realms chills the air, Prognostic of the spectres lurking there. A POEM. 15 Then quietly from where its folds have lain Lifting the fallen mantle, and again Shrouding her with it from betraying sight, He leads Melina out into the night. The night ! so solemn — so intensely still, That silence — void of earth-sounds — seems to fill With spiritual whisperings, that may Be echoes from the bright worlds far away. Then on his ear a murmur like a charm Falls softly, whilst a hand entwines his arm. " My Claudio, cousin, why so stern — so grave ? It was not thus the ancient Roman brave Responded to the presence of the fair, Nor left unstruck the chords of moonlit air ! " He answers mournfully ; " 'Twere best to leave The chords untouched, than tune them to deceive, And did I speak my thoughts, my words would be Not such, perchance, as thou would'st hear." l6 PILGRIMS. Then she ; " Say what thou wilt. I know men deem me proud — But see yon moon, emerging from a cloud, Unchangeable and cold to every sun, Except her only loved peculiar one, — Thus, friend of childhood, art thou all to me, My heart, if cold to others, warms to thee ! Then fear not that my haughtiness repel The confidence of one I love — too well /" Confounded in one long impassioned sigh, The last two words, unheard, unvalued, die ! " My thoughts," he answers, " tremble in my breast, Like frightened birds that dare not pause to rest, Nor stay to let us count th' intricate rings Of changing colour in their agile wings. Thoughts of those now irrevocable hours, When all thy charms, like partly opened flowers, Reserved their beauty for the only eye That stooped to mark their early brilliancy. A POEM. 17 But now, alas ! in these less happy days Th' expanded blossoms court each idler's gaze, And lose their sweetness in the heart of one Who values only what is his alone. Thou say'st men deem thee proud, — 'tis true,— and yet 'Twas a strange pride that led thee to forget, As on this night, that woman's surest tie Upon a man's true love is modesty ! Pride — born of vanity ! — that condescends To court the very notice that offends !" He pauses — for within his listener's eyes The liquid fires of indignation rise, And darkening their pathway shadows fall, Dropped at the foot of a palatial wall. " My home !" Melina cries, " Alas ! that I From thy reproach should need its sanctuary!" Then from his side swift springs the angered maid, Lost in a moon-twined labyrinth of shade. PILGRIMS. II. " What mystic awe th' enthusiast's bosom fills Before the City of the Seven Hills ! The mausoleum of a race of kings ! Amidst the walls the creeping ivy clings, Binding the mouldering clay and crumbling stones With martyrs' ashes and with emperors' bones ! Behold her now, as mournfully she lies Beneath the radiance of the Southern skies, For faithful nature does not change with fate, And even smiles upon a fallen state ! Behold her giant aqueducts and tombs, Her sculptured arches and vast catacombs ! As ages since the elders of the state Awaited calmly their impending fate, And armed alone with symbols of the law Inspired the rude barbarians with awe — Thus Rome herself now stands, unarmed, yet grand, Amidst the relics of her lost command, A POEM. ig Whilst ruin halting, hesitates to ply The final stroke upon such majesty ! " Thus muses Claudio, as from Alba's shade He marks the well-known scene, so soon to fade Amidst the mem'ries that like spirits cling Around the sepulchres from which they spring ; For through the land at last the whisper runs, Calling from schemes to action all her sons ! Far as can range the beauty-stricken eye, Fair hills, in rainbow circlet, bound the sky, Save where upon the turquoise gleaming west The heav'ns bend down to kiss the ocean's breast. Cimino's range of branching Apennine, And far La Tolfa's amethystine line, Soracte's ridge, round which the severed plain Sweeps circlingly to meet its own again ; Sabina's crests, Alban's volcanic height — All, girt around Campagna, guard the site Of Rome — who, like a captive shackled, stands Clasped in the glittering Tiber's golden bards. c 2 20 PILGRIMS. Time-severed aqueducts from fissures throw Their wasted streamlets upon tombs below ; Or, ruin-choked, their futile channels bear, Reared upon trains of arches through the air, Converging towards the distant domes and walls On which the splendour of the sunlight falls, And where the ringed arena seems to wed The mourning city to her glorious dead ! " Farewell ! beloved haunts of happy hours ! Farewell ! ye Iris-hued Campagna flow'rs 1 As echoing vibrations, soft and low, As scent of roses faded long ago — Thus sadly mystical how soon will be This ungrasped dream I call Reality ! How imperceptibly 'twill pale and die, To swell the shadowy ranks of Phantasy." And then he travels on — till struggling light Of evening yields day's sceptre to the night : Then on again, as an avenging day Subdues the darkness with a golden ray. A POEM. 21 On — -where Cisterna's watchful towers command The dreary Pontine's pestilential land, Confronting grimly the insidious foe That lurks unseen amid the plains below. Across the marshes — hurriedly again — Where twenty cities silently have lain For centuries. Where long grass rustling waves Above unmarked innumerable graves. A nation's burial ground ! where vapours creep Like waves upon the agitated deep, Or, like battalions of uneasy shades, Whose unsubstantial forms as daylight fades, Flit noiselessly, and with sepulchral breath Insnare fresh victims to their fields of death. Then on where Terracina's dwellings creep Beneath the shelter of the Volscian steep, As though commingled with the golden sand, The sea had washed white pearls upon the land! Where gloomy Itri and grim Fondi lie In wildly mountainous obscurity ; 22 PILGRIMS. Then down upon the glowing shore below Where stood the villa home of Cicero, And where the lingering orange-trees of old, Still lace their boughs and toss their balls of gold. Past lone Minturnae's now deserted walls, Near which — reluctant — Garigliano falls Into the bosom of the sea, then on Where Casilinum is now built upon ; And thus still onward to where Naples rests, Beneath Vesuvius' fire-emitting crests Appearing lovely in her tranquil bliss, As Venus sleeping in the arms of Dis. A POEM. 23 III. The angel of the night outspreads her wings Above the City of the Bay. All things Are hushed and tranquil. On the tow'r-crowned walls The opalescence of the moonlight falls, But 'neath each roof, within each deep recess, The darkness creeps to hide its nothingness, And as the way-worn traveller descends A labyrinthian Vicolo, that wends Its way to the Toledo, dark and tall His shadow stalks upon the neighbouring wall In weird companionship, whilst faltering on His slow steps blot the light they rest upon, And to his ear the still air seems imbued With breathings of the sleeping multitude. Sudden across his path a red gleam falls From a recess within th' adjacent walls, Where 'neath a hoary archway, guarded by Two cherubim in sculptured imagery, 24 PILGRIMS. Some steps, that worshippers by prayers and tears Have consecrated through unnumbered years, Ascend towards an Altar, bathed in light, For ever shining on throughout the night, Where, all resplendent in a jewelled sheen, Appears an image of the heavenly Queen ; Her bleeding heart transfixed with swords of woe — The types of anguish suffered long ago ; Her hands in patient agony comprest Upon her pierced and lacerated breast ; Her eyes turned — as in ecstasy — above, With resignation and adoring love. Before the shrine, within the rays that shed A holy nimbus round her bending head, A maiden, weeping, kneels. Her face is pale, E'en near the shimmering whiteness of the veil, That squarely plaited o'er her forehead lies, And models to her form its draperies. Beneath its folds, the radiance here and there Steals loving touches from her raven hair, A POEM. 25 And lingering on her peasant garb imbues The scarlet and the blue with warmer hues. Claudio in silence gazes, and then low Before the Altar bends. Upon her brow Tracing the cross, the girl arises calm — But starts at sight of him in vague alarm, That lasts not, for her guileless trust is given To one thus bowed in fellowship with Heaven. Then Claudio rising, meets her gaze with tears Still dimmed : " Fair maid, whate'er thy grief or fears, Confide them unto me, for by this shrine, My will already moulds itself to thine." Sweet accents give response : " I trust in thee For thou art like the saintly forms I see In frescoed churches. From a woodland glen I come, a stranger to tnese haunts of men, 26 PILGRIMS. And fear this wilderness of streets, whence night, Unfriendly to the maid, has chased the light ; So here, beneath the bless'd Madonna's eye, I claim a virgin's right to sanctuary. But ah ! where Santa Lucia skirts the bay, I know my sire has watched the livelong day For my return, and when the Vesper Hymn Brought not his own loved Silvia back to him, What anxious thoughts would wound with need- less fears The love that has encompassed all my years !" Then thus to her the youth : " Be thou the guide And I will be protector. By thy side, As Ischia over Procida,* o'er thee I'll watch, nor ever pass the severing sea Of virtuous respect. Come, let us hence, Nor fear to give me all thy confidence." They leave the shrine together, hand in hand ; The girl conducts him to the moonlit strand, * Two islands off the shore of Baise. A POEM. 27 Where music from the coral-gifted sea Seems echoing some Nereid minstrelsy. And to that harmony the maiden sets The idyl of her life, nor ever lets One discord mar the theme. To him who hears The even tenor of her life appears A rosary of pearls — as pure, as fair, — Of which each day is told away in prayer ! Through wild Calabrian woods the sun has smiled Upon the advent of this peasant child. A widowed father's tenderness has sealed Her innocence with filial love — a shield Immaculate, — whilst in her simple breast His words, though fraught with superstition, rest In seeming purity, as light which falls Through coloured glass upon cathedral walls, Appears as glorious to th' untutored eye As when in its untinted unity. And now upon a pilgrimage they come — At Naples resting, on their way to Rome. 28 PILGRIMS. " Ere yet the Holy City bows again In mem'ry of the day that Christ was slain — Within its blessed walls I lowly trust That I on bended knees, may press the dust Of martyrs — that my heart may worship God Upon the very ground apostles trod, And all its sins and weaknesses confess Within th' abode of perfect holiness, — That Rome may be revealed unto mine eyes No more in dreams but in realities ! " Then thus in mournful cadences the youth : " A dream is ofttimes lovelier than truth : It may be wiser not to track the course Of our delusions to their actual source. It has been said those beams that warm our earth Are cold within the orb that gives them birth ; Then maiden be content fulfilled to see Within thy heart thy dreams of purity." As when through zephyr-severed boughs a gleam Of sun lights up the shadows of a stream, A POEM. 29 The river trembles at the very breeze That for the ray breaks passage through the trees, — Thus for an instant in the maiden's breast The truth illumes, whilst from their wonted rest The waves of doubt are troubled. But the air Now loses silence and the night-winds bear A voice of sorrow echoing from afar — The burden of whose plaint is " Silvia." The maid replies with an impassioned cry, " My father ! oh ! my father ! Here am I." And as a form approaching shades the strand, She springs to meet and kiss a parent's hand : E'en as a bud which near a rose has lain, If bent aside springs to the flow'r again ! But scarcely has the gladdened father pressed The blossom thus recovered to his breast ; When half mistrustful of his joy a dart Of winged suspicion pierces to his heart. 30 PILGRIMS. " But who is this who with his hand in thine Thus leads thee through the night ? A child of mine Art thou no longer ! From my arms ! away ! Are not my years enough, that thou must weigh Me yet more quickly to the grave with shame ? And thou, base youth, from whate'er source thy name, — However noble or however great, — A curse henceforth shall mingle with thy fate, And from a peasant's arm a blow disgrace In thee, through thee, the fortunes of thy race ! " Then from his quivering hand a stroke descends, From which the youth shrinks not but rather lends Himself unto, as overcome with woe The aged head sinks with the falling blow. " Old man, allay thy passion and thy fears ! Thine only daughter still shall prop thy years In innocence ! Not thus within my arms Could I support thee, were thy vague alarms A POEM. 31 Founded on aught but love to her ! Arise And read her purity within her eyes !" And then — beseeching, with clasped hands, — the maid : " Annul thy curse ! Unsay what thou hast said ! Father ! He is my friend, and thine through me ! Annul thy curse — lest it should turn to thee As some malignant spirit seeking rest, And rinding none, returns unto the breast That sent it forth!" Then leaning on the arm But late accursed, with slow returning calm Her father speaks : " May good o'ercome the ill Invoked upon thee, and may blessings fill The life I would have sown with curses ! May The Lord concede me an atoning day To consecrate to thee ! " 32 PILGRIMS. " That day now dawns, The youth replies : " Look up, see where the Morn's Pale hands uplift the gloom — that nascent light Will find me such a wanderer as the night Now leaves, unless some friendly hand will guide Towards a refuge." " Where the plaintive tide Breaks on the shore of Santa Lucia, stands A fisher's hut, whose humble roof commands No comfort, but a shelter. There we stay, To rest our weariness upon our way Of pilgrimage unto the shrines of Rome ; He who receives us in his lowly home Will take thee also." Thus the aged sire ; Whilst fainter and yet fainter gleams the fire From red Vesuvius on the whitening bay, And one by one the stars are called away. A POEM. 33 IV. How soon upon a stream is cast the rose That ever onward with the current flows, Until it reach the sea ! And thus — ah ! well ! How soon upon a life may fall the spell That haunts it evermore ! And as at times Re-echoing from afar come distant chimes, Now seeming to be lost, now heard again, As breezes trifle with their sweet refrain, Thus does a charm once whispered linger on, Renewed as often as 't is fancied gone ! Three morns, three noons, three eventides are all; And yet sufficient for the spell to fall ! Three morns — when midst the tendrils of a vine Which shrouds her casement, Silvia's arms entwine Dividing them, as like a timid bird She gazes through the leaves unseen, unheard, D 34 PILGRIMS. Upon a form below, and knows not why Her heart thus longs to steal a memory To bless the day. Three noons — when o'er the bay The pilgrim maiden floats bright dreams away To lose them in the distance ! Then — three eves — When silently a small felucca leaves The strand, and youth and maiden, side by side, Across the trembling bow of waters glide To watch the wary fisher's torch-light glow In luring flashes on the waves below, Like love's first glances wakening from their rest The dazzled visions of a maiden's breast. And thus the spell was wrought in three short days ! So little time life's brightest season stays ! E'en with the happiest it must fade too soon ; The longest day has but an instant's noon ! A POEM. 35 And now the rest is past ; another sun Will see the pilgrimage again begun, And Claudio on the sea. Alone, the maid At night keeps vigil with her tears, afraid Of all the years that in a weird array Look from the future ! Their once glad display Of hope is gone, and gathering clouds unfold From what in dawning seemed a mist of gold. Before her casement the vine's budding leaves Have lent their shadows to the moon, which weaves Amidst the brilliance of its midnight glow A phantom garland for the maiden's brow. The stillness rests so lightly on the bay, The slightest sound can startle it away, And touch the heart day's tumult could not move As through a waste life rings one note of love. And thus when suddenly a murmuring flow Of voices twain is heard — now loud — now low, (As when the breezes through a forest stir A whisper from the beech to which the fir D 2 36 PILGRIMS. Sonorously responds,) the maiden hears, And half unconsciously arrests her tears. She knows the voices well ; — the deeper tone Is of her sire — Claudio's the softer one. " My friend, I thank thee for the noble vow Of service tendered, and which even now May be fulfilled. But numerous perils lurk In the completion of the simple work That mine will seem. The grace that I demand Is that thou place these papers in the hand Of him whose name they bear. But friend — take heed ! Light as they are, these papers bear the seed Of mighty changes, and within them lies A spark to fire Italian destinies ! And to thyself, if found on thee, they will Entail a curse ; but I have sworn my will A sacrifice to Italy, and now My country claims fulfilment of my vow, As I of thine." A POEM. 37 The deeper tones reply ; " Fear not ; thy papers, with the memory Of thy protection to my child, shall rest Securely guarded at her father's breast." The listener hears no more, the voices fade Away into the night, and leave the maid Once more in silence midst the moonlight glow, The wreath of shades still traced upon her brow. 38 PILGRIMS. V. An endless avenue ! The Volscian plain Arrays its poplar hosts in serried train From Anxur* to Velletri. Not a sound Breaks through their long battalions ! All around Is hushed, save when at intervals a breeze Transmits its password through the lines of trees ! The trees ! — for ever arching on before In dim perspective, — then advancing more, (Thus seems it to the wayfarers who press The road, bewildered by its changelessness,) Till they divide their seeming arch and sway Themselves upright, — then dwindle far away Again to nothingness. Across the plain A long canal conveys its watery train * The ancient name for Terracina. A POEM. 39 Beside the avenue, whilst all around Is chilly marshland, whence no sight or sound Gives pledge of life. Upon the curveless way The pilgrims tread, through each alternate ray Of sun and stroke of shade beneath the trees. The maiden sighs : " The end for ever flees Before us, father ! Shall we never gain The boundaries of this perpetual plain ?" " God knows its limits, child, and He will be Our guide until we reach them ; but to me The end seems not so far — perchance that I May be the first to reach the boundary ! " " My father ! would'st thou leave me here alone ?" He looks on her with love : " My little one, I spoke of life — th' inevitable way Through which we travel onward day by day Unto an unknown goal !" 40 PILGRIMS. Then sudden light Illumes the pilgrim's face, as though his sight Received some mirage of the realms that lie Far off beyond the unknown boundary ! And Silvia trembles, for a flush has ris'n Upon his brow, as though in search of Heav'n Life's sanguine current rose. " My father, rest : I see that thou art weary, for thy breast Is labouring with thy breath." "We soon shall gain A resting place," he answers, " for the plain Holds one small shelter on its outstretched palm At Appii Forum, where the holy balm Of friendship cheered St. Paul. A saintly band Will meet me also there, and to the land Which is eternal bear my soul." The hush Of silence stays his words, the fever-flush A POEM. 41 More deeply brands his brow, whilst every vein, Inflamed with poison from the marshy plain, Swells lividly beneath the rebel strife Already waging in the lines of life. And yet he lingers not, but with the force Of growing fever still maintains his course Unfalteringly, whilst faint with weariness The tearful maiden's trembling footsteps press The road behind. At night the saintly band, He knew would bear him to the spirit land, Come for the father, and the maid alone At Appii Forum sighs, " Thy will be done," — And weeps. Not only he, but all the world Seems dead to her ; and as pale vapours, curled By night winds, stalk the plain, she seems to lie Upon the threshold of eternity Amidst expectant shades. 42 PILGRIMS. And when the day — The first without him — glides at last away Relentlessly, affixing time's first seal Unto the finished life, the thoughts which steal Within her breast seem spectres too ! Her mind Sways vaguely with emotions undefined, That dim the sense of loss ; and thus is thrown A veil by nature over grief — a stone Upon the sepulchre of woe — to hide From her — her dead. Then whispering to her side Come words from kindly wayfarers who stay Likewise at Appii Forum on their way Of pilgrimage to Rome. They — to retrace Her steps advise the maid, but " By the grace Of Him," she answers, " Who the fatherless Protects, I unmolested shall progress Unto my vow's fulfilment." And unseen Upon her heart she folds what late had been A POEM. 43 The Prince's charge unto her sire, the scroll Of danger-haunted papers, now the sole Connecting link between the loved and dead And her unfriended life, nor ever fled A carrier dove more purely sheltering Its secret trust beneath a fluttering wing* 44 PILGRIMS. VI. The dirge is sung — the symbol" light has died, And Rome proclaims the Saviour crucified. Then darkness falls upon the earth, and gloom Upon the hearts of men, and many a tomb Of saintly thoughts that long have slumbered Gives up to life its half-forgotten dead To kindle holy deeds, and acts abound Of faith and penitence. Upon the ground Rome consecrates unto her pilgrims, stand Their Church and Refuge, f whose plain walls command * During the sendee preceding the " Miserere " in the Sixtine Chapel, certain lights (grouped into a triangle) are extinguished one by one, excepting the last, which is placed behind the Altar during the singing of the dirge ; its removal being emblematical of that dread moment when the Light of the World was quenched. + Adjoining the Church of La Trinita dei Pellegrini is an hospital, where not only are convalescents received, but in which the pilgrims who visit Rome for the Holy Week are lodged and provided for during a time proportioned to the length of their pilgrimages. On Wednesday, Thursday, and A POEM. 45 But little notice, yet full many a tear More dear to heav'n has ofttimes fallen here Than in the Vatican. And thither come The noblest of the youths and maids of Rome To work out penitence ; here Maries bend To wash the travellers' feet ; here Marthas lend Their kindliness to cheer the pilgrims' fare, And every word and action seems a prayer. White 'neath the lamplight gleam the tables, spread With frugal fare of lettuces and bread, Round which flit graceful figures ministering, Like fluttering humming-birds upon the wing, All plumed in black and red.* Th' adjoining hall, With long-rowed benches flanks its whitewashed wall, Friday in the Holy Week the nobles of Rome perform penance by washing the wanderers' feet, and ministering to them at the supper with which the pilgrims are provided after their ablu- tions. These two ceremonies are respectively termed the Lavanda and Ccena. * The fair penitents of Rome who take part in this ceremony are all similarly attired in a most picturesque costume, in which the pleasing contrast of black and red is conspicuous. 46 PILGRIMS. With pilgrims lined, at whose toil-hardened feet Kneel daughters of patrician Rome, to mete Their balance against sin. Amidst the troop Of pilgrims is a maid, of all the group Most young and fair, with eyes that seem to see Religion everywhere ; but pale is she And mournful, as Egeria ere her change. Bowed at her feet soft-touching hands arrange Her wayworn sandals, and a haughty brow, — Imperious e'en in servitude — bends low Before the woodland girl. That brow is set With hair as golden as a coronet, And purple eyes that seem made dark with pain, Through which at times gleams forth a proud disdain, Like light from amethysts. A summer gale Ne'er bowed before a lily of the vale A lovelier lily queen ! " What fancy, child, Has lured thy footsteps here ? Was not thy wild A POEM. 47 Retreat amidst the unpolluted hills Meet home for thee ? The psalmody that trills Within the wood-lark's throat, was it too free, — Its simple notes too innocent for thee ? Or was the incense which the guileless flow'rs — High priests of nature — from their leafy bow'rs Waft heav'nwards, all too pure, that thou should'st come Unto the rotten pageantry of Rome ? Oh ! child of faith, beware ! The outward show Conceals a world of mystery below ! The stately pall with pomp embroidered holds A corpse enshrouded in its velvet folds ! Approach it not — turn homeward to thy vines, And when afar the sun reflected shines, Making St. Peter's dome a sun to thee, Weep thou, and pray upon thy bended knee For those beneath its shade." The pilgrim maid Hears with pale wonder on her brow, dismayed, As they who listen on Campanian ground With nature's fairest scenery around To thunders far beneath. 48 PILGRIMS. Then in reply, She murmurs timidly; " Thine acts belie Thy warnings, lady, or thou dar'st not kneel, As now, in rites thy Church has blessed, nor seal Thy doubts with mockery." " Nay, simple child," Such is the curse of Rome. The soul defiled By doubt yet wears a mask of faith, and sees All holy that th' unerring Church decrees ! Insnared by toils of sacerdotal art, We lose the purest instincts of the heart, As birds once taught some artificial strain, In vain recall their own true notes again ! Thou, fresh from nature, may perchance still see Her truth reflected upon all, but we See darkness everywhere ! Ah ! could'st thou know The bitterness and pride that lurk below These forms of love !" Then — as the pilgrim hears, Her wonder changes pityingly to tears ; A POEM. 49 In faith secure, as on a sea-girt steep A flower which blooms on rocks that chafe the deep, And which in fragile beauty bending low, Seems to rebuke the waves which rage below. As thus she bends, some papers gleaming white Flit from her peasant-kerchief, and alight Fluttering upon the ground. With eager hand Outstretched, the lady grasps their folds, as scanned In one biief glance their superscription sends A thrill unto her heart. The pilgrim rends The air with one long cry, as they who see Hope swiftly struck from life ! " Oh ! give them me ! Oh ! give my papers back, for they are all That now I live for ! " But her accents fall Upon unpitying ears. " Secure the maid ! The false — the traitorous pilgrim, who has made Our faith a cloak for treachery, and come E 50 PILGRIMS. Accomplice of the band late fled from Rome, On rebel mission in a pilgrim guise ! Flame in her heart, religion in her eyes ! On rebel mission ! For too well I know How writes my traitor cousin, Claudio ! A rebel mission ! Born, perchance, of love ! Feigned as / know he well can feign, to move Her to his aid ! Nay, speak not, girl, 'tis vain — These papers that upon thy breast have lain Tell far too much ! " Thus cries the ireful maid, Unconscious that she also is betrayed To those who hear, for storms oft bring to shore Some shell which ocean would for evermore Have treasured in its depths. Then all around ; " The Princess loves him ! " breaks in whispered sound, And Silvia, borne half-swooning from the hall, Hears the low-murmured accents as they fall : Mournful are they as some chance wind-drawn strain From strings the harpist ne'er shall touch again ! A POEM. 51 VII. Spinola's* groves are tipped with shimmering light, And Dian drops the treasures of the night Between their boughs, till all the ground beneath Seems flecked with silver seeds. Full many a wreath Of branching olive and festooning vine, In shadow waves upon the pale moonshine, In silent concert with the leaves that move To rustling music in the air above ; And cypresses, impelled by night winds, bow Their lofty heads within the melting glow, As though acknowledging the mute caress Night lends unto Spinola's loveliness. Where in a rose-girt space a fountain gleams — Like somewhitespiritchainedtoearth that seems * The Sicilian expedition under Guiseppe Garibaldi em- barked on the night of May 5th, i860, from the Villa Spinoia, near Genoa. E 2 52 PILGRIMS. For ever struggling upward to the sky, Yet ever falling backward murmuringly — There — silent figures glide across the sward, In furtive speed, with many a glance toward The all-surrounding trees, as though there were Some evil lurking in the shadowy air. Dark forms are they and dim, but they shall sway A nation's destiny, and chase away A cloud from liberty. Onward they pass, With steps so stealthy that the treach'rous grass Scarce whispers forth the secret of their tread ; On, to the strand, where faithless waters spread Again in welcome at a hero's feet, As when they rolled Tyrrhenum* waves to meet The Chief of Troy. * Upon the western coast of Italy the Mediterranean waters were anciently divided into the Sinus Ligusticus — the Tyr- rhenian Mare and the Inferum Mare. A POEM. 53 "My friends, Sicilians wait!'* It is enough — the Leader's words elate The men with zeal renew'd, and from the shore A muster-roll is called, which echoing o'er Th' assembled groups, unto each name receives An answering voice. Then as the ocean heaves In seeming unison with each brave heart, One after one enfranchised boats depart, Like sea-birds eager for the storm, — their freight A people's liberty — a nation's fate ! Prince Claudio, numbered with th' Adventurers, sees His hopes expand — as from the land, the seas, — Hopes that grow brighter when th' encom- passed main Upon the south is narrowed back again By Sicily's fair coasts. Now dreams may die And into deeds of valour fructify ! The time has come to summon forth the dead, T' unbind each fettered hand, each shrouded head, That from the sepulchre wherein they lie May rise the stricken hearts of Italy. 54 PILGRIMS. Marsala first to the Deliverer droops The tyrant flag, and the avenging troops March unresisted through the town. At dawn Toward Salemi's walls the men are drawn, Expectant of the forces said to lie Near to Calatafimi threat'ningly ; And there at length they meet. Now clouds of sand, Aroused by conflict, eddy round the hand That wages death, and hovering o'er the fray — Like some expectant vulture o'er its prey — Dust circles round what soon to dust shall turn. As when sun-parched the western prairies burn, Compelled at last to flame and shoot on high Avenging fires to the malignant sky — Thus blaze this day in Sicily the hearts That w T rong has kindled, till the oppressors' daits Before the wrath aroused shrink back and yield The vict'ry of Calatafimi's field. Then, where should pour the Amiraglio's flood Upon the dried-up stones, fall drops of blood, A POEM. 55 To witness silently of wrong and pain, Till Heaven's pure tears shall wash away the stain. And as of old the seven times circled walls Fell at the trumpet blasts of faith, so falls Palermo's* pride before the sevenfold cry, Wrenched from a desperate people's agony. Soon — bowed before th' avowed resistless fate — Milazzo offers to capitulate, And from Messina's port glide one by one The hostile ships of war. Then all is done ; And Freedom guided by the hand of God, Treads jubilant upon Sicilian sod. * " According to the admission of Neapolitan officers of rank, their forces at Palermo consisted of no less than 24,000 men." — Extract from " The Garibaldians in Sicily," by Alexander Dumas. Garibaldi's band at this time numbered not more than 1,400 men. 56 PILGRIMS. VIII. Where chestnut woods, beyond Palermo's walls, Climb grassy knolls, and trickling water-falls In freedom revelling, babble loud and leap Foaming in wanton glee from steep to steep, Like silver ladders up the mountain heights ; Where all the colours of the southern lights Are spread, from their prismatic band untied, Seeming in rich confusion multiplied ; There — built in mockery of light and space — A Prison mars the charm of Nature's face ; Showing where misery and sin have trod — Man's shadow on the glorious work of God ! Those crested tow'rs, pregnant with human woe, Rose on yon sunny slope long years ago, But never until now has Freedom's breath Forestalled the gloomy liberator Death ! A POEM. 57 The gates are burst ! The free air rushes in ! Mark the wan groups that once again begin Upon the threshold of their tomb to live ! Who pausing shrink, and wonderingly give A resurrection gaze ! Whilst they who stand Without, stretch forth to them a helpmg hand, And proffer guidance to the steps that reel With unaccustomed liberty. Then kneel The Rescued, joined by their Deliv'rers, bowed In an adoring, a rejoicing crowd. But some there are so broken down with pain They scarcely care to quit those walls again, Tneir lives imbittered by some tyrant care That leaves no freedom for them anywhere. Friends have they lost perchance, or hope, or youth, Or some illusion which they held as truth. "Then why," think they, "should we forsake the cell That all our vigils and our tears could tell, 58 PILGRIMS. And which seems — echoing ceaselessly our cries ! — More faithful than are human sympathies ?" These hopeless ones the Liberators seek Within the too familiar walls, and speak To them reviving words, to stimulate The stagnant life-blood, and if not too late Restore the harmonies which wrong has riven That should attune their hearts to hope and heaven ! With them, piercing anew the Dungeon's gloom, Claudio tracks forth the steps — his heart the doom — Of captives who have languished year by year Within that rank and mildewed atmosphere — For e'en the purity of heaven's free air Is blighted when it only passes there ! To him each oozy drop of damp that falls Upon his forehead from the vaulted walls Appears the spirit of a tear of woe Wrung from some prisoner's eyelid long ago ; A POEM. 59 Each red-hued lichen seems a mark of blood, Still lingering where once swept a human flood, And on the walls where clammy damp-stains lie, Appears engrained a sweat of agony. E'en daylight pales in terror of the place, Where doors unbarred yield some unwonted space Through which to slip a gleam, and trembling lies Across the prison's dank intricacies. One such faint glimmer Claudio traces where The walls divide on an ascending stair, So steep, so narrow, that it seems to lie Within the thickness of the masonry. Above, its bolt withdrawn, an open door Reveals a cell beyond, with rush-strewn floor, On which the sunbeams through a loop-hole glow — Gilding the passage Man has wrought for Woe! Stretched on the rushes where the ray can trace The tender beauty of her upturned face, 60 PILGRIMS. A maid unconscious lies — a fever brand Upon her brow, as though a heavenly hand, Impatient for another angel, twined Celestial roses there. All unconfined, Her tresses in an ebon tracery rest T nlaid upon the ivory of her breast, As if the meshes of that silken net Were loth to free the gentle spirit yet. " Silvia ! My guileless Silvia here ? Alas ! Could not the rancour of our tyrants pass Such innocence as thine ? Awake ! Arise ! See how at last upon our destinies The Heav'ns look kind ! Their will was ever thine — Then smile with them upon us — Silvia mine!" If it be true that every word must chase Perpetual echoes through eternal space — That sounds which seem to us to fade and die Are rushing onwards everlastingly — Perchance the many utterances of love Unheard on earth, may yet in realms above, A POEM. 6l Launched to infinity — in ceaseless roll — Flash with swift comfort past their destined soul ! But now unheeded is the pleading cry Of love and anguish, and the echoes fly, Striking confused against the prison walls Till they escape to Heav'n, whilst Claudio falls Bowed at the maiden's side with wild appeals Of yearning tenderness. Then, as he kneels, His gaze upon her face, the air is stirred Softly around her lips by one faint word — She knows him not, and yet her spirit clings Unto his name amidst its wanderings ! Footsteps without approach, the stair ascend, And Claudio's comrades group around their friend. Raising the maiden with most tender care They — forming into sad procession — bear Her to the world without, where dewy grass Hushes the martial footsteps as they pass, 62 PILGRIMS. And where the red shirts struck by sunlight stand Girt round their burden like a fiery band. A vesper bell from some adjacent height Floats music to the plain — a lingering light Glints on the chestnut woods from tree to tree — Like glancing spray upon a wind-tossed sea — And lines of purple and of golden red Trace mystic writing on the sky o'erhead, As though the sunset with inscribing ray Noted the records of the finished day. A POEM. 63 IX. Advancing from the coast a headland stands Alone before the sea, with gorgeous bands Of verdure circling its majestic crown And red-hued precipices sloping down Sheer to the azure deep. It seems to be Some great high-priest of that untroubled sea, Standing barefooted by the veil that lies In envious folds above its mysteries. Half up the mountain side a white arcade Springs from the sandstone cliff, with hollowed shade Beneath each arch and with uneven piers, Now caught upon a spur of rock that rears A jagged outline, fringed with prickly pear, Now lengthening into long white columns, where They dip to some abyss. A convent wall Above the arches, unadorned and tall, With narrow windows dotted here and there — Bewildering motes upon a dazzling glare ! — 64 PILGRIMS. Bared to the ardour of the southern light, Stands stern, as some world-wearied anchorite, Confronting heav'n alone. A mighty screen Behind arises in an emerald sheen Of ilex and of cypress branches spread Upon the slanting summits overhead — A barrier that the gentle nuns have set Between them and the world they would forget. In this retreat, beneath the Sisters' care, Young Silvia trembles back to life — a prayer Upon her lips, as though a breath of heaven Escaped the gates death has so nearly riven. Feebly a: first her opening eyelids fix Upon a figure of the crucifix Suspended near, then from the form divine Turn slowly to the watchful Ursuline Bent o'er her couch ; " Are still my fancies vain, Or have they wandered back to truth again ? These are no prison walls, — nor this the air That sapped my life with hourly poison there ! A POEM. 65 Tell me — is this of earth — this odorous breath That fresh from summer roses entereth Fanning my brow, as though an angel wing To me invisible were ministering?" " Forget thy prison, child, and calm thy dread; Both real woes and fevered dreams have fled. The Blessed Virgin, watchful of thy fate, Had thee conveyed unto the convent gate Of sainted Ursula ; and constantly We sisters tend on thee, alternately, Fasting — that thou may'st live ; whilst day and night, Within our chapel burns a constant light, Placed by thy friend upon the altar there, The ardent symbol of his ceaseless prayer." " Alas ! I have no friend ! The steadfast flame Would scarcely burn if placed in Silvia's name ! A peasant girl am I — loved but by one, And he has left me in the world alone ! My father gone — defenceless and obscure — I learnt how even Rome may wrong the pure — F 66 PILGRIMS. Condemned, untried, for evermore to lie Within the prison vaults of Sicily !" " Poor child ! But still believe me there is yet A friend left unto thee ; can'st thou forget ? To us poor sisters memory seems to press So vividly upon our weariness ! There is no outer world for us, to win Our thoughts from dwelling on the world within. A fond face seen in the far days of yore Wears the same smile to us for evermore ; And loving words, though whispered years ago, Ne'er lose the accents that entranced us so. Ah ! child ! sometimes methinks that it is well To be a nun within a convent cell !" Then Silvia falteringly : " There once was one Who found me — lost in Naples — all alone ; — I knew him but three days — 'twould be too vain To dream that we should ever meet again." A POEM, 67 And yet-— can it be Hope ? — The life-blood streams, Renewed and kindled through her veins ; — it seems As though vibrations from a chord cf sound Had sent fresh harmonies to echo round, And charm all thoughts of pain, as grains of sand Shake into form beneath an unseen hand At stroke of melody. Silent she lies, Dropping the veiling lashes on her eyes To shut in all her joy ; whilst lingering there, The nun, still watchful, steals in rapid prayer A Pater Noster from her beads, and signs The symbol of the cross in mystic lines. f 2 68 PILGRIMS. X. The gorgeous southern autumn lies oppressed Amidst its own delights. The vague unrest Of calm hangs subtly in the golden air, And all the distances and hill-tops wear A veil — that seems of neither mist nor haze — But wearied colour shrinking from the blaze And seeking rest afar. The purple vines On terraces of rock, in serried lines, Await their sacrifice, and bending low The citron branches to the ground below Let fall their topaz fruit. The path which leads Unto the convent gate is strewed with seeds — The summer burden of the wearied trees, — And ever and anon a lizard flees Across its stony windings, mute and fleet, — An elfish spirit of the silent heat ! A POEM. 69 But o'er the rough-hewn pavement, stretched before The whitened archway of the convent door, A cypress marks its shade in ebon line, Tracing a limit to the bright sunshine* A time-worn parapet of stone defends The mountain platform, where the cliff descends Abruptly to the sea, and resting there, With brow uncovered to the breathless air, Claudio awaits. Thus through the summer gone, Full oft the youth has lingered there alone, To watch St. Ursula's closed walls, wherein His love — she whom the angels strove to win — So nearly strayed to heav'n ; and later, when She turned unto her own sweet life again, He oft has met beneath the cypress shade, Led by the kindly nuns, his peasant maid : And sometimes — as to one from whom they hold Their charge, — they her to him have brought and told, JO PILGRIMS. With garrulous simplicity and tears, Of all her sufferings and of all their fears, Whilst she all pale and silent trembled near, Too vaguely happy, too confused to hear Their speech, yet conscious that at each farewell His eyes would meet her timid ones, and tell That silent story which can still entrance Long after words have lost significance. But now this autumn noon, with full intent To give to looks a voice, the youth has sent Unto the Abbess, and a sanction won To see alone his Silvia ere the sun Shall close the ardour of his golden eye Upon the coasts of sea-girt Sicily. The cypress shade more to the eastward creeps, Leaving a pathway that the sunlight steeps In gold for her who comes. Throughout the air A trembling stirs, as though its pulses were Awakened by the gentle form that now Stands doubtfully, as though uncertain how To pass the virgin gate. A POEM. 71 With reverence given When love in love can see a light from heaven, The youth approaches where the maiden stands And lifts unto his lips the tight-clasped hands That closely twined upon her bosom, press Back to her heart its flood of happiness. " When, Silvia, borne from Santa Lucia's shore I left thee (thinking we should meet no more !) Unmindful that so near the Sirens'* caves Enchantment still might float upon the waves, Thy charms I vainly trusted to forget — But ah ! their spell is lingering round me yet ! How often absence weaves a lasting tie From what seems scarce enough for memory ! Methinks that thoughts are wanderings of the soul, Which, when at times evading the control Of mortal ties, meets those for whom it yearns ! Re-unions that the earth-bound frame discerns * The Sirens are said to have inhabited the rocky coasts oi the islands of Sirenusa?. 72 PILGRIMS. But dimly when our life with labour teems — In sleep, seen vividly, we call them dreams. Thus we have met, my Silvia, and I greet Thee now, not only as a maiden sweet Seen three short days, but as one loved and known, Whose soul has held communion with mine own. I ask not if it seemeth thus to thee, For wherefore tremblest thou in meeting me ? What truth but one, could bend that candid brow, Which never surely learnt to droop till now ? Ah ! raise thine eyelids, sweet, for they reveal All by thus low'ring that they would conceal. " As laden flowers from dewy languor rise Beneath the blessing of the morning skies, Her soft eyes tremble upwards unto his To lose their love-drops in a tender kiss. Half from her lips — half from the love that learns, As if by intuition, and discerns A POEM, 73 What is by love withholden, Claudio gains The maiden's history of the fatal plains— The journey on to Rome — the meeting there With the Princess, to whom his papers were Her mute betrayers. Then to her he gives The future he has planned, — a dream that lives Alas ! but in his breast. For him, one year Of glorious war, — whilst she, free from all fear, Shall tarry with the nuns — then, Naples free.— Rome, Queen of a united Italy,— And Silvia his bride ! " Till then our love Must trust ; and, sweetest, when the sun above Looks down on thee, think how its light has sped Through trackless space to shine upon thy head ! Think how the stars through myriads of miles Have sent the rays that watch upon thy smiles ! Mark how the ocean waters haste to meet, And kiss, when thou art near, thy wandering feet: 74 PILGRIMS. Thus may'st thou easily believe that I Shall worship with no less idolatry!" And thus together where the cliff is set With bordering of ruined parapet, The lovers linger, whilst the golden day Hurries the sweetness of their lives away. A POEM. 75 XL In all excess of gladness or despair The soul within us is compelled to prayer ; For like those subtle influences which move The ocean deep and raise the flood above, There is at times a holy impulse given That draws the waters of the soul to Heaven ! Alone with all her joy — the one distress Of parting lost in love and happiness,— The maid, bewildered with a sense of light, (As one half dazzled by a meteor's flight, Who recks not that the flash of splendour flown Leaves nought behind it but a cold grey stone,) Seeks in the convent chapel sanctuary For all her new-born bliss. The shadows lie Around her in a silence still and deep, For vesper hymns have hushed the day to sleep, 76 PILGRIMS. But lights upon the holy Altar shine, — Now caught by silver bars around a shrine, Now striking arch, or shaft of porphyry, Or polished forms of sculptured imagery, Until with special brilliancy they fix In halo round a jewelled crucifix. And silent kneels the maid — -no utterance robs Her lips of motion, yet her being throbs In rapt communion. Burn the lights more pale? Before the glittering crucifix a veil Seems for an instant drawn ! But now again 'Tis gone, as catching up the golden rain The cross shines forth once more. Yet something creeps — A shadow midst the shades — a form that steeps Itself in dimness ! Near where Silvia kneels It glides, screening the altar blaze, as steals A cloud upon the moon ! The blessed trance Breaks off its ecstasy in fear ! One glance And terror fixes in her eyes ! for there Before her, still majestic, but less fair, A POEM. 77 Stands the Princess of Rome ! " Speak not— nor fear: — I come to save thee, child— to save ! Do'st hear ? To save thee from thy folly and thy crime ; To crush thy joy indeed, as thou hast mine, But still to save thee from a greater woe, As purgatory from the hell below. The first thou art not that a coronet Has dazzled from her sphere. Renounce ! Forget ! " Then Silvia rises, all her terror gone, And indignation in her eyes alone ! " What is my folly, lady ? what my sin ? Is it that 7, a peasant girl, dare win The love thy lineage could not gain for thee ? The greatness of thy noble world would be Indeed most potent could it buy the heart, And win with gold the soul ! My foe thou art In that he loves me, but believe me I Have won my happiness unwittingly ! 78 PILGRIMS. And by this shrine I vow, if it could be, I'd give the heart that I have gained to thee For his dear sake, for it were better far That he should wed with thee than Silvia." " If it could be! How art thou so secure ? Believest thou men love for evermore ?" " E'en if they do not, what is past is true ; The future changes, but cannot undo. A love one instant ours unchanged will be Ours for that instant through eternity! What boots it in the never-ceasing roll Of countless ages, if the yearning soul Looks to a past of earthly hours or years ? By depth, not length, 't will mete its joys and tears !" " If thus it be, child, thou do'st then possess Secure what thou hast gained of happiness. But ask no more, and for his sake untwine The threads from his life that have tangled thine. A POEM, 79 Take thy short dream to bless thy future years, And risk not to outweigh its sweets with tears. Think not that when upon thy lowly brow His jewels shine, he'll love thee then as now, Ah ! no ! thy sylvan loveliness will set Beneath the splendours of a coronet, And he will blush and thou wilt weep to see How 7 rude the charms he once so praised in thee!" " Oh ! lady, spare me ! for my dazzled eyes Have scarce yet turned away from paradise, And of the sun they just have looked on bear Bright images that hover everywhere. Disturb them not. Leave me my joy and go. Hast thou not worked on me sufficient woe ? 'Twas thou betrayed me ! 'twas thy influence strove In those dread vaults to hide me from my love ! But e'en the cruel prison proved to be More kind than thou — it gave him back to me. 80 PILGRIMS. And yet — thy bitter words might prove too true ! Oh ! Holy Virgin ! than that he should rue His choice, far better that to grief and pain I turn my long accustomed life again ! For not one pang that in the future lies Could wound as scorn in his once tender eyes !" Is it a smile exultant that appears To move th' austerity of her who hears ? And yet the sweetness of her voice belies All that there is of triumph in her eyes ! " Maiden, why speak of sorrow or of pain ? Within these convent walls there long have lain The graves of many a wordless memory Untouched by all its former agony ! Graves — round which flowers have grown — where sunlight gleams Round which the gentle nuns weave golden dreams — A POEM. 8l Join thine to theirs — 'tis safer here than where The rude world breathes its desecrating air !" " Princess, away ! Thy persecution cease ! Enough — for thou hast poisoned all my peace ! Go — thou hast conquered, and thy lover free, The Future take — but leave the Past to me ! " 82 PILGRIMS. XII. The moon has risen ; — o'er the watery plain The radiance striking seems to rend in twain The ocean veil, and through the fissure show Glories escaping from the depths below. Pale on the steep cliff gleams the convent wall — Paling as though in fear — as gathering all Her shades around her, steady night creeps on. Alone before her casement — pensive — wan — The Princess stands — leaning with folded arms, And sighing with the sea. The auburn charms Of her bright hair are tossed aside ; her face Is ominous with thoughts of ill that chase Away its loveliness ; and from her eyes The evil star which rules her destinies, Strikes a reflected gleam. A POEM. 83 A passion-flower Bent with its dewy burden, from a bower Above her casement twined, stoops down to rest Its languid petals on her heaving breast. Fiercely upon her heart she crushes them ! " Thus would I crush all passion and contemn All love ! Why should our nature upon earth Bring so much ill ? What influence at the birth Of man brings with the beauties of his soul The subtle evil that must mar the whole ? Once — -was there ought within my breast but peace ? Aught but the tenderest wishes to increase All happiness, or where I met with pain Give back the sunshine of the heart again ? I can remember — 'tis not long ago — My being shuddering at a cry of woe ! And yet before that peasant maiden's cry, Wrung from her terror and her agony, When to my hands her papers fell — all light, All sympathy fled from my soul, and night Absorbed my life ! What joy it was to feel My rival in my power ! To set my seal g 2 84 PILGRIMS. Upon her anguish ! To a prison cell Consign her charms !— Call I these joys ? Ah ! well! Joys were they not, but rather triumphs, set Like jewels in a poisoned coronet, That round the brow with fatal radiance twine, Racking with deadly torture whilst they shine ! And all my wariness has been in vain ! My schemes but giv'n her back to him again, And interposed a mightier barrier still Between his heart and mine ; for though her will Before my stronger one already bows, — (Nor will I leave this convent till her vows Chain her for ever here !) yet what of his ? Will her woe bring me nearer to my bliss ?" And for all answer to the question came A restless murmur from the deep — the same Response there ever has been and shall be To human hearts till there be " no more sea." A POEM. 85 XIIL Meanwhile to Naples Claudio speeds, com- pelled To join again the patriot band, now swelled In conquests as in force. Redeemed and free, High from her fort proud Naples waves the three Loved colours with their cross — the flag that springs From dauntless faith and noble sufferings ! The Bourbon rule has perished as the blight A thunder storm clears off within a night, Leaving the fruit to ripen in the sun Of an untainted day. The work is done — But much to do remains — much to withstand — Much to consolidate — and much command ! The conquered — desperate and menacing — The succoured — clamorous for everything ! 86 PILGRIMS. The Pioneer of liberty needs all His utmost strength, and prompt to every call, On fields more treacherous now than those of war, Must his supporters stand. Momentous are The records of the last wild throes that bring Forth Freedom from a nation's suffering. There comes a calm at last — dissensions cease ; Each grievance glides into the light of peace. Then Claudio who through all has held a sweet Anticipation at his heart, to meet His Silvia prepares. Severed indeed Have been the lovers, for the heart can read Less than it dreams, and from the heart the source Of his and the young peasant's intercourse A POEM. 87 Alone could spring— whilst that her love could rise To consummation in self-sacrifice, He knew not nor divined. How little trace Of un-remitting change upon the face Of self-renewing nature ! Leaves that grew Last year and fell and withered, renew Themselves and fade upon the self-same tree To bud— to pale — to fall again and flee Again 'tvixt death and life ! To Claudio The time that bloomed and died one year ago Seems risen to charm again, its golden light Untarnished, and all its splendour bright, As though three hundred and three score of sum Had not died out from time. The lizard runs Swift a; of yore across his path and cling The gripes in purple bunches clustering 88 PILGRIMS. Unto the vines renewed ; but as he nears The convent's guardian cypresses, he hears Sounds unaccustomed and confused, which greet Hfs ear where last alone his Silvia's sweet And loving accents toned their long farewell. Footsteps re-echoing from the paved court tell . Of crowds unusual there and blend with sound Of voices — now subdued and rare — now wound And intermixed upon a chanted chord, Whilst ever and anon an organ laud With music shivers the harmonious ai^, That groans with melody and in despajr Swoons on the distant hills. Within the gate The traveller pauses all amazed ! Whf wait These peasants grouped about the chapel door, And knotted round the court? A crowc^of poor, Who scarce would throng so num'r^usly to hear The simple service of the nuns, nor wezj Their gala dress save at some holy feasj, Of which none falls to-day. A POEM. 89 He stands where least The pressure of the crowd, and asks, " What means All this assemblage gathered here ? What scenes Enact the nuns that to their solitude And pious rites allure this multitude ?" A beldam leaning near shakes forth reply :— " We come to see a new-vowed sister lie Upon her bier, whilst yet in flush of life ; Without the kindly numbness that is rife In my old limbs — which takes from them the sting Of every pang, — but fresh for suffering Of mind or sense !" " A blithe sight truly, dame ! 'Twere better fate to be content to claim The happiness allowed on earth, and not Grasp at celestial sweets the Heav'ns allot Only beyond the grave ! But who is she Who thinks to win eternal peace and flee From sin and woe ? As though a convent wall Could shut out thoughts of ill, or veils could fall 90 PILGRIMS. On heart-pursuing memories ! Alas ! Both sin and grief are subtle ills that pass With life alone ! pray Heav'n that even then The soul evade them ! But I ask again, Who is the victim in this sacrifice ?" To him this time a shepherd youth replies : " Her name we know not, but the country teems With strange reports concerning her ; — of schemes In which she shared — of dire imprisonment, — Of rescue, by the brave deliverers sent To this poor Sicily — and 'tis all this Attracts us here. Some say — perchance amiss, — That she is forced to take the veil, and some Aver that since she came, a dame from Rome Has followed, to induce her to the vow Through rivalry in love." Tis only now, As though aroused by the word of love, That Claudio wakes unto the truth. A POEM. gi Above, Unchanged the sun, unchanged the autumn sky— The organ peals still strike forth melody— The aged crone leans on her staff unmoved— The shepherd's lips are scarcely yet removed From the last shape his words have giv'n — ■ and yet Eternity seems passed, and chaos set Within the timeless age ! Now he has driven Aside with thrusts the wedged crowd — has riven An entrance through the chapel gates, and gained An access through the throng within — proclaimed By cries from those whom passion-tossed he flings Madly aside. The chanting chorus sings Confused to discord — lapsing in a wail — The priests officiating pause and quail An instant at the sudden storm, then stand Confronting with proud gestures of command Th' intruder — who has gained the altar now And cries to Silvia to withhold her vow. 92 PILGRIMS. Beyond a grating's gilded traceries Upon the marble ground a coffin lies, Round which like effigies, that summer suns Touch not, are ranged in sable band, the nuns ; A low moan answers from their midst — and slow, As though a half-numbed corpse shook off the woe Of death, beneath the pall a figure moves, And Silvia rising, looks on him she loves. " Claudio, forget me ! Uncompelled and free I rob my life of happiness ! — of thee ! And if it be a sin to break the vow I made to thee, an oath more solemn now Forbids a weightier perjury! — Farewell ! Forget the Silvia thou hast loved too well ! There is another worthier than I To share with thee thy lofty destiny ! Take her — the brilliant Princess ! — who will give Thy life a suited fellowship, and live More nobly blest with thee, than now ; whilst I Can love thee only well enough — to die !" A POEM. 93 Then to the funeral couch where she has lain Her shadowy form sinks slowly down again ; Whilst wailing rises and a tremor runs Throughout the rigid company of nuns. Closely they press around the coffin — weep And wring their hands — the " maid has fall'n asleep " — Lost unto them as to the world, and wooed By Death to a celestial sisterhood. 94 PILGRIMS. XIV. Grey gleams the day upon Rotondo's height — Dim with a weight of tears. The ashen light Strikes on the host of olive trees that wield Their limbs distorted, and with silver shield Give battle to the morn. A vapoury sea Blots out the plain below, where Rome should be — Foretokening her doom! — whilst heav'n above Teems with battalions of fierce clouds which move Like dragons belching steam — with wings out- spread, Or spirits of the City's mighty dead Stirred at the breath of war ! A moving shade, Deepening the greyness of the mount, is laid Nigh to the olives on Rotondo's slope — A shadow small — yet big with weighty hope — A POEM. 95 It is the patriot camp. Confused sound Creeps from it numbly as the moistened ground Gives back the heavy tread of martial trains, And hoarse commands, — -choked by the rushing rains- Come struggling through the storm ; whilst bugle cries, Finding no echo in the laden skies, Grow faint, and seem to call with muffled breath Not unto victory, but unto death. Far off — ■ below — Campagna's cloud-veiled grounds Send up a wind-wave of responding sounds From a far mightier host — and trembling runs Through the long silent plains, as heavy guns Drag the aroused soil ; but over all, Impenetrable hangs the ashen pall Of mist — a seeming void — from which the hum Of light-toned clarion and dull beating drum Comes like an echo from the classic past, 96 PILGRIMS. When from another Rome battalions vast Marched thus on liberty. To meet their foe — Now from the mount unto the plain below The patriots descend — unflinching all — Though to the Papal mercenaries small And weak in number, as the gleams of light A sunset leaves to wrestle with the night, Compared with the star army that the sky Leads forth upon the day's last agony. The battle bursts — and loud-voiced havoc thrills More fierce than storm-gust to the grey-tipped hills That bow themselves before the clouds and stand, Like mediators for their blood-stained land, Veiled, between earth and heav'n. From foe to foe Flash fiery tokens, scattering as they go Pain, desolation, death ! — Triumphant cries Unheeded fade to moaning agonies ! Young hearts — unknown of pain — spring forth to meet Prostrating thrusts — and by the eager feet A POEM. 97 Of their own comrades — -hurrying to the strife, Have their last pulses trampled from their life! Torn standards fall upon the plain and dye Their folds with life-blood of the enemy, Till, as the living fail, each flag is hid By the staunch dead in faithful pyramid. And 'tis for only this the gates of Rome, Seen through long years are reached! From Peter's dome At last the free hour promises to sound,— But 'tis for those who die ! The Latin ground Sucks its deliverers' blood and soon shall scent Its reckless flow'rs with that dear nourishment. Pressed by o'erwhelming force the patriots yield At last the vict'ry of Mentana's field ! Each backward step out-weighed by deadly blows,— Each bosom turned to the advancing foes, — No bugler left to sound defeat's last call, — No trumpeter to herald forth their fall ! H 9§ PILGRIMS. Retreating to the hills whence they have come — With wistful eyes strained to the end towards Rome ! The day is over, and the setting sun, As though remorseful for the havoc done, Is reddening in the west. The morning rain Has ceased and dried upon the war-stained plain ; And all the mist has rolled far out to sea, Leaving the wide Campagnian desert free. Upon an outpost of the mountain steep, Where blackened olives, seared with battle, keep A silent guard, — stretched on the barren soil — His head supported by the roots which coil Like serpents in the sand, a soldier lies, — His sword still grasped, although his enemies Have left him there alone — a helpless prey To one no human weapon keeps away ! A POEM. 99 A shade of pain has dimmed the youthful glow, And war-brands sear the once unfurrowed brow, But yet the subtle notes of nature show The wounded warrior to be Claudio. Fixed on the distant west, his eager eyes Drink in their last of sight where crimsoned skies Throw out the form of Rome. Like mystic signs Engraved upon an Eastern ring, the lines Irregular of walls and towers arise, Fraught with a great Past's silent histories, On the red scroll of heav'n ! " Is this the end? Do all youth's dreams and manhood's struggles tend Only to this ? Stands Rome thus mute — thus calm, Extending for us no avenging arm ? Can she thus see her suffering martyrs die — Thus witness the last pangs of liberty — H 2 IOO PILGRIMS. And give no sign ? Make not for us one moan ? Of all her palaces stirs not one stone ? Rome — Rome arise ! If all thy Life has fled Assert thy boasted empire o'er the Dead. Call forth the ashes that so long have lain Within thy tombs and bid them live again ! " Thus Claudio ; — then, as in our dreams we see Strange changes with no link of sense, so he Through fevered medium sees a fiery glow Thrill through the heavens and the plain below, Gleam with a brazen light ! The sultry air Against his parched lips burns, and lurid glare Flashed from the lightnings conjured in his brain, Blears every sense excepting that of pain. "Water! I thirst ! Did heav'n send rain to lie For nought upon the ground but mockery ? I feel no moisture on the sod — a flame Seems stealing from it ! In the Virgin's name Give water quickly ! or I die ! Oh! Heaven!— A flowing stream unto my prayer is given ! I feel the large drops fall upon my hand ! " A POEM. IOI It is his life-blood dripping to the sand ! Wildly he seeks the welling stream and sips The sanguine current with his eager lips- Then fainter than before renews the cry ; " Water ! Bring water quickly — or I die ! " As midst Sahara's wastes a spring unseen, Though miles of scorching desert intervene, Sends subtle freshness that a great despair Alone detects upon the sun-dried air, E'en thus to him an influence undefined Brings instinct of relief. The evening wind Thrills the seared olive leaves, and shades of night, Steal from the hills the fallen gems of light, When 'tween the soldier and the sunset sky, A woman clad in ash-hued drapery, With bowed head shrouded in a gleaming hood, That marks her one of Mercy's sisterhood, Stands — with a goblet filled up to the brim, Tending the limpid life-draught down to him. 102 PILGRIMS. Impetuously he grasps the cup — when lo ! Arrested by a murmur'd " Claudio," He starts — his eyes strain through the dusk and trace A look they know upon the woman's face. " Melina ! — Hence ! away ! Bring not to me The life thou owest to her ! Tend not to me Hands haunted by her woe ! The saints on high Shall end, in pitying love, this agony — Not thou !" Then he his yearning lip restrains And flings the cup untasted to the plains, Whilst as the goblet broken quits his hand He falls back dead upon the crimsoned sand. The Night comes upward from the East and stands To mourn and shroud the Dead. Her shadowy hands A POEM. IO3 For flowers spread wreaths of stars, and from her tears Spring mists that rise and fall. Through countless years Thus has — thus shall — she come, to fold away Beneath her silver wings, the Hopes of Day. Sw;ft & Co., 55, King Street, Regent Street, W, d Deacidified using the Bookkeeper process. Neutralizing agent: Magnesium Oxide Treatment Date: March 2009 . 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