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POEMS. 
 
THE 
 
 SCHOOL OF THE HEART 
 
 AND OTHER POEMS. 
 
 HENRY ALFORD, 
 
 VICAR OF WIMESWOULD, LEICESTERSHIKE, 
 AND LATE FELLOW OF TRINITY COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE, 
 
 IN TWO VOLUMEii. 
 
 Munus ecce fictile 
 Inimus intra regiam salutis ; 
 
 Attamen vel infimam 
 Deo obsequelam praestitisse prodest. 
 
 Quidquid illud accidet, 
 Juvabit ore personasse Christum. 
 
 Prldentii: 
 
 VOLUME I. 
 
 CONTAINING 
 
 SONNETS AND MINOR POEMS. 
 
 CAMBRIDGE : 
 
 PRINTED AT THE PITT PRESS, BY JOHN SAIITH, 
 PRINTER ro THE UNIt^BRSITY : 
 
 FOR LONGMAN & CO., PATERNOSTER ROW, LONDON 
 AND J. & J. J. DEIGHTON, CAMBRIDGE. 
 
 M.DCCC.XXXV. 
 
riuoc-t 
 
 r \ 
 
 %3S 
 
Mi 
 
 TO 
 
 THE PLAYMATE OF HIS CHILDHOOD, 
 
 THE JOY OF HIS YOUTH, 
 
 AND THE DEAR COMPANION OF HIS CARES AND STUDIES, 
 
 THESE POEMS ARE DEDICATED 
 
 HER AFFECTIONATE HUSBAND. 
 

CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 jMiscellaneous Sonnets 1 — 46 
 
 To a Drop of Dew 47 
 
 To a Mountain Stream 50 
 
 For an Inscription •'>2 
 
 jOn the Evening of a Village Festival 55 
 
 Lady Mary 57 
 
 Written January 1, 1832 60 
 
 Last Words 62 
 
 A Remembrance 64 
 
 Ballad 69 
 
 To the Angel of Guido •• 72 
 
 )| " We looked into the silent Sky" 75 
 
 'Midnight Thoughts 78 
 
 A Doubt 80 
 
 "I have found Peace in the bright Earth" 82 
 
 "To-morrow — 'tis an idle sound" 84 
 
 " I sought for Novelty," 86 
 
 On the Sign of the Cross in Baptism 88 
 
 Hymn from a Missal 90 
 
 Amor Mundanus 92 
 
 t«^ 
 
Vm CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Amor Coelestis 95 
 
 "When I am in my Grave" 97 
 
 Written on the Day of General Thanksgiving 99 
 
 Hymn for All Saints' Day in the Morning 101 
 
 The Passion of St Agnes 104 
 
 Hymn to the Sun 110 
 
 Hymn to the Sea 114 
 
 " I stand upon the Margin of our level Lake" 118 
 
 " Father, wake — the Storm is loud" 123 
 
 Written during an Aurora Borealis 121 
 
 Psalm xLvi 123 
 
 Psalm cxxxvii 125 
 
 Psalm XXIV 127 
 
 "Thou little Flovs^er that on thy Stem" 130 
 
 There is a Wood, not far from where I pass 132 
 
 The Ballad of Glastonbury 134 
 
 Written in an Artificial Pleasure -Ground 151 
 
 Palinode to the Foregoing 153 
 
 A Hymn for Family Worship 155 
 
 "There is an ancient Man who dwells" 157 
 
 "Child, whither goest thou" 159 
 
 The Epitaph of Bion 162 
 
 "I had the sweetest dream" 167 
 
 The Malvern Hills 169 
 
 • ( 
 
SONNETS. 
 
 I. 
 
 If thou would'st find what holiest men have sought. 
 
 Communion with the power of Poesy, 
 
 Empty thy mind of all unquiet thought, — 
 
 Lay bare thy spirit to the vaulting sky 
 
 And the glory of the sunshine ; go and stand 
 
 Where nodding briers sport with the water-break, 
 
 Or by the plashings of a moonlight creek, — 
 
 Or breast the wind upon some jutting land: — 
 
 The most unheeded things have influences 
 
 That sink into the soul ; in after-hours 
 
 We oft are tempted suddenly to dress 
 
 The tombs of half- forgotten moods with flowers : 
 
 Our own choice mocks us ; — and the sweetest themes 
 
 Come to us without call, wayward as dreams. 
 
 VOL. I. A 
 
 l^' 
 
SONNETS. 
 
 II. 
 
 Weep ye and howl^ for that ye did refuse 
 
 God's feast of bounties when most largely spread; — 
 
 Sunrise and set, and clustering overhead 
 
 The nightly stars — for that ye did not choose 
 
 To Avait on Beauty, all content to lose 
 
 The portion of the Spirit's offered })read 
 
 With which the humble wise are daily fed. 
 
 That grows from yielding things despised their dues. 
 
 Therefore your solitary hours unblest 
 
 Shall not be peopled with the memories dear 
 
 Of field and church-way path and runnel clear: 
 
 Therefore your fading age shall not be drest 
 
 With fresh spring-flowers : because ye did belie 
 
 Your noblest life, in sorrow ye shall die. 
 
SONNETS 
 
 III. 
 
 But deck the board — ^for hither comes a band 
 Of pure young spirits fresh-arrayed in white 
 Glistering against the newly-risen light; 
 Over the green and dew-impearled land 
 Blithesomely tripping forward hand in hand : 
 Deck ye the board — and let the guests be dight 
 In the Gospel wedding-garment rich and bright. 
 And every bud that summer suns expand. 
 For you ye humble ones our thickets bloom : 
 Ye know the texture of each opening flower, 
 And which the sunshine, and which love the gloom 
 The shrill of poised larks for many an hour 
 Ye watch: and all things gentle in your hearts 
 Have place, and play at call their tuneful parts. 
 
 A 2 
 
SONNETS. 
 
 IV. 
 
 'TwERE better far from noon to eventide 
 To sit and feed sad care^ and fence the while 
 The patient spirit for unwonted toil. 
 Than in the calm for ever to abide ; 
 'Twere better far to climb the mountain side 
 Through perilous buffeting of wind and steep^ 
 Than in the valley nook, charmed into sleep. 
 All the fair blossoms of young life to hide. 
 So let me labour — for 'tis labour-worth 
 To feel the fruits of my seedtime of tears 
 Shedding their fragrance over half this earth ; 
 No mother rues the sharpest pangs of birth 
 So she may see the offspring of her fears 
 Standing in high estate and manly years. 
 
SONNETS. 
 
 V. 
 
 Out, palsied soul, that dost but tremble ever 
 In sight of the bright sunshine; — mine be joy. 
 And the full heart, and the eye that faileth never 
 In the glad morning: — I am yet a boy; — 
 I have not wandered from the chrystal river 
 That flowed by me in childhood: my employ 
 Hath been to take the gift, and praise the Giver: 
 To love the flowers thy heedless steps destroy. 
 I wonder if the bliss that flows to me 
 In youth, shall be exhaled and scorched up dry 
 By the noonday glare of life : I must not lie 
 For ever in the shade of childhood's tree : 
 But I must venture forth and make advance 
 Along the toiled path of human circumstance. 
 
SONNETS 
 
 VI. 
 
 Truth loveth not to lavish upon all 
 The clear downshining of her heavenly smile ; 
 She chooseth those on whom its light shall fall;, 
 And shuts them from the earthly crowd the while: 
 But they whom she hath lightened^, tread this earth 
 With step and mien of heavenly gentleness; 
 Ye shall not see them drunk with over-mirth. 
 Or tangled in the world's thick wilderness; 
 For there hath shone upon their path of life 
 Mild beamings from a hidden glory's ray; 
 A calm hath past upon their spirit's strife. 
 The bounding of young hopes hath sunk away. 
 And certain bliss hath dawned, with still uprise. 
 Like the deep rest of joy in spirits' Paradise. 
 
SONNETS. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Fell not that Angela, who before the race 
 Of Time begun, in solitary pride 
 Standing above his bright compeers, defied 
 The Lord's Anointed? Found those Seraphs grace. 
 Though beautiful and strong, who dared deface 
 The heavenly image — those who set aside 
 Their fealty, and then fell when sharpest tried. 
 Out of all hope, from highest name and place? 
 And shall man's rebel spirit sport with sin, 
 And keep smile-loving Hope joint-playfellow? 
 Shall Beauty light on perished cheeks her glow. 
 While the worm revels with his mates within? 
 Never — though Pride with falsest bravery dress 
 The ribbed shape of utter wretchedness. 
 
SONNETS. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Before the day the gleaming dawn doth flee: — 
 
 All yesternight I had a dreary dream ; 
 
 Methought I walked in desert Academe 
 
 Among fallen pillars — and there came to me 
 
 All in a dim half- twilight silently 
 
 A very sad old man — his eyes were red 
 
 With over-weeping — and he cried and said 
 
 ' The light hath risen but shineth not on me/ 
 
 Beautiful Athens, all thy loveliness 
 
 Is like the scarce remembered burst of spring 
 
 When now the summer in her party dress 
 
 Hath clothed the woods, and filled each living thing 
 
 With ripest joy— -because upon our time 
 
 Hath risen the noon, and thou wert in the prime. 
 
SONNETS. 
 
 IX. 
 
 CoLONOs ! can it be that thou hast still 
 
 Thy laurel and thine olive and thy vine? 
 
 Do thy close-feathered nightingales yet trill 
 
 Their warbles of thick-sobbed song divine? 
 
 Does the gold-sheen of the crocus o'er thee shine, 
 
 And the dew-fed clusters of the daffodil, 
 
 And round thy flowery knots Cephisus twine. 
 
 Aye oozing up with many a bubbling rill? 
 
 O might I stand beside thy leafy knoll 
 
 In sight of the far-off city towers, and see 
 
 The faithful- hearted pure Antigone 
 
 Toward the dread precinct leading sad and slow 
 
 That awful temple of a kingly soul 
 
 Lifted to heaven by unexampled woe- 
 
 a5 
 
10 SONNE't'S, 
 
 X. 
 
 Slowly and softly let the music go, 
 As ye wind upwards to the gray church tower ; 
 Check the shrill hautboy, let the pipe breathe low- 
 Tread lightly on the pathside daisy flower. 
 For she ye carry was a gentle bud, 
 Loved by the unsunned drops of silver dew ; 
 Her voice was like the whisper of the wood 
 In prime of even, when the stars are few. 
 Lay her all gently in the flowerful mould, 
 Weep with her one brief hour; then turn away, — 
 Go to hope's prison, — and from out the cold 
 And solitary gratings many a day 
 Look forth: 'tis said the world is growing old, — ■ 
 And streaks of orient light in Time's horizon play, 
 
SONNETS. 11 
 
 XI. 
 
 The Funeral Sermon was on the text "The Master is come 
 and calleth for thee." St. John xi. 28. 
 
 Rise, said the Master, come unto the feast: — 
 
 She heard the call, and rose with willing feet: 
 
 But thinking it not otherwise than meet 
 
 For such a bidding to put on her best. 
 
 She is gone from us for a few short hours 
 
 Into her bridal closet, there to wait 
 
 For the unfolding of the palace gate 
 
 That gives her entrance to the blissful bowers. 
 
 We have not seen her yet; though we have been 
 
 Full often to her chamber door, and oft 
 
 Have listened underneath the postern green. 
 
 And laid fresh flowers, and whispered short and soft 
 
 But she hath made no answer, and the day 
 
 From the clear West is fading fast away. 
 
12 SONNETS. 
 
 XII. 
 
 HEU QUANTO MINUS EST CUM RELIQUIS VERSARI, 
 QUAM TUI MEMINISSE. 
 
 The sweetest flower that ever saw the light. 
 The smoothest stream that ever wandered by, 
 The fairest star upon the brow of night. 
 Joying and sparkling from his sphere on high, 
 The softest glances of the stockdove's eye. 
 The lily pure, the marybud gold-bright, 
 The gush of song that floodeth all the sky 
 From the dear flutterer mounted out of sight; — 
 Are not so pleasure-stirring to the thought, 
 Not to the wounded soul so full of balm. 
 As one frail glimpse, by painful straining caught 
 Along the past's deep mist-enfolded calm. 
 Of that sweet face, not visibly defined. 
 But rising clearly on the inner mind. 
 
SONNETS. is 
 
 XIII. 
 
 M. S. E, S. Sept. 1832. 
 
 This side the brow of yon sea-boiinding hill 
 
 There is an alley over-arched with green. 
 
 Where thick grown briers entwine themselves at will 
 
 There, twinkling through the under-flowers, is seen 
 
 The ever-shaking ocean far below ; 
 
 And on the upper side, a rocky wall 
 
 Where deepest mosses and lithe ivies grow, 
 
 And honeysuckle blooms in clusters fall. 
 
 There walked I when I last remembered thee ; 
 
 And all too joyfully came o'er my mind 
 
 Moments of pleasure by the Southern sea. 
 
 By our young lives two summers left behind ; 
 
 Ah sad-sweet memory — for that very day 
 
 The gloom came on which may not pass away. 
 
i4 
 
 SONNETS 
 
 XIV. 
 
 Oh ! when shall this frail tenement of clay 
 Be emptied by Death's peremptory call. 
 And its celestial guest be fetched away, 
 From mortal tenure and corporeal thrall, 
 A beam, to mingle with the flood of day, 
 A part to join unto the glorious All? — 
 When shall the kingly intellect have fled 
 From this his dull material servitude, 
 And Thought exalt her long-abased head. 
 With pomp of heavenly majesty endued? 
 And when shall the aff'ection, here below 
 Broken by parting in its stream of light. 
 Dash oif the earthly vestiture of woe, 
 And shine, with everlasting radiance bright ? 
 
FAMILY VAULT. 15 
 
 XV. 
 
 ON SEEING OUR FAMILY VAULT. 
 
 This lodging is well chosen; — for 'tis near 
 
 The fitful sighing of those chesnut trees ; — 
 
 And every Sabbath morning it can hear 
 
 The swelling of the hymned melodies : 
 
 And the low booming of the funeral bell 
 
 Shall murmur through the dark and vaulted room, 
 
 Waking its solemn echoes but to tell 
 
 That one more soul is gathered to its home. 
 
 There we shall lie beneath the trodden stone: — 
 
 Oh none can tell how dreamless and how deep 
 
 Our peace will be — when the last earth is thrown,- 
 
 The last notes of the music fallen asleep, — 
 
 The mourners past away^, — the tolling done, — 
 
 The last chink closed, and the long dark begun. 
 
16 FAMILY VAULT, 
 
 XVI. 
 
 ON THE SAME OCCASION. 
 
 Could I for once be so in love with gloom 
 
 As to leave off with cold mortality — 
 
 To finish with the deep peace of the tomb, 
 
 And the sealed darkness of the withering eye ? 
 
 And could I look on thee, thou calm retreat, 
 
 And never once think of the joyous morn, 
 
 Which bursting through the dark, our eyes shall greet 
 
 With heavenly sunshine on the instant born ? 
 
 O glorious time, when we shall wake at length 
 
 After life's tempest under a clear sky. 
 
 And count our band, and find with keenest joy 
 
 None wanting — love preserved in all its strength ; — 
 
 And with fresh beauty hand in hand shall rise, 
 
 A Link in the bright Chain of ransomed Families. 
 
SUNSET. 17 
 
 XVII. 
 
 SUNSET. 
 
 How bare and bright thou sinkest to thy rest 
 
 Over the burnished line of the Severn-sea ! 
 
 While somewhat of thy power thou buriest 
 
 In ruddy mists, that we may look on thee. 
 
 And while we stand and wonder, we may see 
 
 Far mountain-tops in visible glory drest, 
 
 Where 'twixt yon purple hills the sight is free 
 
 To search the regions of the dim North-west. 
 
 But shadowy bars have crossed thee — suddenly 
 
 Thou'rt fallen among strange clouds; — yet not the less 
 
 Thy presence know we, by the radiancy 
 
 That doth thy shroud with golden fringes dress; 
 
 Even as hidden Love to the faithful eye 
 
 Brightens the edges of obscure distress. 
 
J 8 ON wokdsworth's "ruth. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 RECOLLECTION OF WORDSWORTH's " RUTH." 
 
 Here are the brows of Quantock^ purple-clad 
 
 With lavish heath-bloom : there the banks of Tone 
 
 Where is that woman love-forlorn and sad. 
 
 Piping her flute of hemlock all alone.? 
 
 I hear the Quantock woodmen whistling home — 
 
 The sunset flush is over Dunkery : — 
 
 I fear me much that she hath ceased to roam 
 
 Up the steep path, and lie beneath the tree. 
 
 I always fancied I should hear in sooth 
 
 That music — but it sounds not: — wayward tears 
 
 Are filling in mine eyes for thee, poor Ruth — 
 
 I had forgotten all the lapse of years 
 
 Since thy deep griefs were hallowed by the pen 
 
 Of that most pure of Poesy-gifted Men. 
 
EVENING IN AUTUMN. J 9 
 
 XIX. 
 
 AN EVENING IN AUTUMN. 
 
 How soothing is that sound of far-off wheels 
 
 Under the golden sheen of the harvest-moon : 
 
 In the shade-chequered road it half reveals 
 
 A homeward-wending group, with hearts in tune 
 
 To thankful merriment; — father and boy, 
 
 And maiden with her gleanings on her head; 
 
 And the last waggon's rumble heard with joy 
 
 In the kitchen with the ending-supper spread. 
 
 But while I listening stand, the sound hath ceased ; 
 
 And hark from many voices lustily 
 
 The harvest-home, the prelude to the feast. 
 
 In measured bursts is pealing loud and high ; 
 
 Soon all is still again beneath the bright 
 
 Full moon, that guides me home this Autumn night. 
 
20 GLASTONBURY, 
 
 XX. 
 
 GLASTONBURY. 
 
 On thy green marge, thou vale of Avaloii, 
 
 Not for that thou art crowned with ancient towers 
 
 And shafts and clustered pillars many an one, 
 
 Love I to dream away the sunny hours ; 
 
 Not for that here in charmed slumber lie 
 
 The holy reliques of that British king 
 
 Who was the flower of knightly chivalry. 
 
 Do I stand blest past power of uttering; — 
 
 But for that on thy cowslip-sprinkled sod 
 
 A lit of old the olive-bearing bird. 
 
 Meek messenger of purchased peace with God ; 
 
 And the first hymns that Britain ever heard 
 
 Arose, the low preluding melodies 
 
 To the sweetest anthem that hath reached the skies. 
 
THE MENDIP HILLS OVER WELLS. 2L 
 
 XXI. 
 
 THE MENDIP HILLS OVER WELLS. 
 
 How grand beneath the feet that company 
 
 Of steep gray roofs and clustering pinnacles 
 
 Of the massy fane, brooding in majesty 
 
 Above the town that spreads among the dells ! 
 
 Hark ! the deep clock unrolls its voice of power ; 
 
 And sweetly-mellowed sound of chiming bells 
 
 Calling to prayer from out the central tower 
 
 Over the thickly-timbered hollow dwells. 
 
 Meet worship-place for such a glorious stretch 
 
 Of sunny prospect — for these mighty hills. 
 
 And that dark solemn Tor, and all that reach 
 
 Of bright-green meadows, laced with silver rills. 
 
 Bounded by ranges of pale blue, that rise 
 
 To where white strips of sea are traced upon the skies. 
 
22 CULBONE, OR KITNORE, SOMERSET. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 CULBONE, OR KITNORE, SOMERSET. 
 
 Half way upon the clifF I musing stood 
 
 O'er thy sea-fronting hollow, while the smoke 
 
 Curled from thy cottage- chimnies through the wood 
 
 And brooded on the steeps of glooming oak ; 
 
 Under a dark green buttress of the hill 
 
 Looked out thy lowly house of sabbath prayer; 
 
 The sea was calm below : only thy rill 
 
 Talked to itself upon the quiet air. 
 
 Yet in this quaint and sportive-seeming dell 
 
 Hath through the silent ages that are gone 
 
 A stream of human things been passing on. 
 
 Whose unrecorded story none may tell, 
 
 Nor count the troths in that low chancel given, 
 
 And souls from yonder cabin fled to heaven. 
 
LINN-CLEEVE, LINTON, DEVON. 23 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 LINN-CLEEVE, LINTON, DEVON. 
 
 This onward-deepening gloom — this hanging path 
 
 Over the Linn that soundeth mightily. 
 
 Foaming and tumbling on, as if in wrath 
 
 That aught should bar its passage to the sea. 
 
 These sundered walls of rock, tier upon tier 
 
 Built darkly up into the very sky. 
 
 Hung with thick woods, the native haunt of deer 
 
 And sheep that browze the dizzy slopes on high — 
 
 All half-unreal to my fancy seem, — 
 
 For opposite my crib, long years ago. 
 
 Were pictured just such rocks, just such a stream. 
 
 With just this height above, and depth below ; 
 
 Even this jutting crag I seem to know — 
 
 As when some sight calls back a half- forgotten dr earn. 
 
24 WATERS-MEET, LINTON, DEVON. 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 WATERS-MEET, LINTON, DEVON. 
 RECOLLECTION OF HOMER. 
 
 Even thus, methinks, in some Ionian isle, 
 
 Yielding his soul to unrecorded joy. 
 
 Beside a fall like this lingered awhile 
 
 Oh briery banks that wondrous Minstrel-boy; 
 
 Long hours there came upon his vacant ear 
 
 The rushing of the river, till strange dreams 
 
 Fell on him, and his youthful spirit clear 
 
 Was dwelt on by the Power of voiceful streams. 
 
 Thenceforth begun to grow upon his soul 
 
 The sound and force of waters ; and he fed 
 
 His joy at many an ancient river's head. 
 
 And echoing caves, and thunder, and the roll 
 
 Of the wakeful ocean, — till the day when he 
 
 Poured forth that stream divine of mighty Melody. 
 
SONNETS. 25 
 
 XXV. 
 
 My own dear country — thy remembrance comes 
 
 Like softly-flowing music on my heart; 
 
 With thy green sunny hills, and happy homes. 
 
 And cots rose-bowered, bosomed in dells apart; 
 
 The merry pealings of our village bells 
 
 Gush ever and anon upon mine ear ; 
 
 And is there not a far-off sound that tells 
 
 Of many-voiced laughter shrill and clear ? 
 
 Oh ! were I now with thee — to sit and play 
 
 Under the hawthorn on the slope o' th' hill. 
 
 As I was wont to do; or pluck all day 
 
 The cowslip and the flaunting daffodil. 
 
 Till shepherds whistled homeward, and the West 
 
 Folded the large sun in her crimson breast. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 -f 
 
 <y 
 
25 SONNETS. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 Come to me often, sportive Memory; 
 
 Thy hands are full of flowers; thy voice is sweet, 
 
 Thine innocent uncareful look doth meet 
 
 The solitary cravings of mine eye ; 
 
 I cannot let thee flit unheeded by. 
 
 For I have gentle words wherewith to greet 
 
 Thy welcome visits; pleasant hours are fleet, 
 
 So let us sit and talk the sand-glass dry. 
 
 Dear visitant, who comest, dark and light, 
 
 Morning and evening, and with merry voice 
 
 Tellest of new occasion to rejoice ; 
 
 And playest round me in the fairy night 
 
 Like a quaint spirit, on the moonlight beams, 
 
 Threading the mazy labyrinth of dreams. 
 
SONNETS. 27 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 Oh what doth it avail in busy care 
 
 The summer of our days to pass away 
 
 In doors — nor forth into the sunny ray, 
 
 Nor by the wood nor river- side to fare, 
 
 Nor on far-seeing hills to meet the air. 
 
 Nor watch the land- waves yean the shivering spray? 
 
 Oh what doth it avail, though every day 
 
 Fresh-catered wealth its golden tribute bear? 
 
 Rather along the field-paths in the morn 
 
 To meet the first laugh of the twinkling East, 
 
 Or when the clear-eyed Aphrodite is born 
 
 Out from the amber ripples of the West, 
 
 'Tis joy, to move under the bended sky. 
 
 And smell the pleasant earth, and feel the winds go by 
 
 b2 
 
W SONNETS. 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 TO THE LADY MILLICENT BARBER. 
 
 Lady, I may not but indite to thee 
 
 One grateful tribute of my verse, to tell 
 How sweetly fared my spirit and how well 
 
 In the pure air of thy society, 
 
 How cheered and how refreshed she back returned 
 Into this world's thick weary atmosphere ; 
 And how she hath trimmed up and pointed clear 
 
 Her lamps of Faith and Hope that dimly burned. 
 
 Because thy talk hath been of Christ, and things 
 Hid in the bosom of eternal Love : 
 Because thy soul hath fixed her rest above. 
 
 And thither straining with unflagging wings 
 Pierceth in vision far beyond the ken 
 Of the proud multitude of reasoning men. 
 
SONNETS. 29 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 TO THE AUTHOR OF THE "RECTORY OF VALEHEAD.' 
 
 There is a sweet well-spring of purity 
 
 In the holy heart, whereout unceasing flow 
 
 Its living waters, freshening as they go 
 The weary deserts of humanity: 
 There is a spirit in words, which doth express 
 
 Celestial converse and divine employ ; 
 A surface of unbroken gentleness 
 
 With an under-current of deep-running joy. 
 I closed thy holy book this sabbath morn ; 
 
 And it hath spread like billow- calming oil 
 
 Upon my spirit, in the loud turmoil 
 Of ever-striving passions tempest- worn ; — 
 
 Thy Master's peace be thine, even as thou hast 
 
 Over this soul a holy quiet cast. 
 
so SONNETS. 
 
 XXX. 
 
 TO MARY. 
 
 On thy young brow, my cousin, twenty years 
 Have shed their sunshine — and this April morn 
 Looks on thee fresh and gladsome, as new-born 
 From veiling clouds the King of Day appears : 
 Thou scarce canst order back the thankful tears 
 That swell in thy blue eyes — nor dare to meet 
 The happy looks that never cease to greet 
 Thee, the dear nurseling of our hopes and fears. 
 This Eastertide together we have read 
 How in the garden when that weeping one 
 Asked sadly for her Lord of some unknown. 
 With look of sweet reproof he turned and said, 
 MARY — sweet cousin, when thy need shall be. 
 That word, that look, so may he turn on thee. 
 
SONNETS. 31 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 TO THE SAME. 
 
 Cheeriest of maidens, who with light of bliss 
 
 That waneth never, in thy gladsome eye, 
 
 Passest all lightly Earth's sad sorrows by, 
 
 Scarce crediting report of aught amiss 
 
 In the wide-wasted world ; on thee the smile 
 
 Of heavenly Peacefulness doth ever rest, 
 
 And thou art joying in a region blest 
 
 With tempests raging round thee all the while. 
 
 So mayest thou ever be, if thou shalt keep 
 
 Unfailing communings with Him above ; 
 
 And in thy sunshine hours of wakeful Love, 
 
 And the unchecked confidings of thy sleep. 
 
 With pure distilment be thy spirit fed 
 
 Of holiest influence, from His presence shed. 
 
32 SONNETS. 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 TO THE WOOD PIGEON. 
 
 WRITTEN IN PASSION WEEK. 
 
 Tell me thou mild and melancholy bird, 
 
 Whence learnedst thou that meditative voice? 
 
 For all the forest-passages rejoice. 
 
 And not a note of sorrow now is heard; 
 
 I would know more — how is it I preferred 
 
 To leave the station of my morning choice 
 
 Where with her sudden startle of shrill noise 
 
 The budding thorn-bush brake the blackbird stirred.^ 
 
 Sweet mourner — who in time of fullest glee 
 Risest to uttering but so sad a strain. 
 And in the bleak winds, when they ruffle thee, 
 Keepest thee still, and never dost complain ; 
 I love thee — for thy note to memory brings 
 This sorrowing in the midst of happiest things. 
 
SONNETS. SS 
 
 ^XXIII. 
 
 EASTER EVE. 
 
 I SAW two women weeping by the tomb 
 
 Of one new buried, in a fair green place 
 
 Bowered with shrubs; — the eve retained no trace 
 
 Of aught that day performed, — but the faint gloom 
 
 Of dying day was spread upon the sky ; — 
 
 The moon was broad and bright above the wood ; — - 
 
 The distance sounded of a multitude, 
 
 Music, and shout, and mingled revelry. 
 
 At length came gleaming through the thicket shade 
 
 Helmet and casque — and a steel-armed band 
 
 Watched round the sepulchre in solemn stand ; 
 
 The night word past, from man to man conveyed ; 
 
 And I could see those women rise and go 
 
 Under the dark trees, moving sad and slow. 
 
 b5 
 
34} SONNETS. 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 IN LAUDEM S. EULALI^ V. ET M. 
 
 V^OUNG budding virgin, who in bashful pride 
 
 All dedicate to Christ didst stand apart 
 
 From the crowd of pitying faithless, and with heart 
 
 Unmoved didst count the iron talons gride 
 
 Their purple furrows in thy tender side : 
 
 Beautiful is thy story — full of food 
 
 For youthful souls that need be gently wooed ; 
 
 Few have confessed so young, so sweetly died. 
 
 Forth with thine ebbing breath was seen to fly 
 
 A milk white dove to heaven, an emblem meet 
 
 Of undefiled baptismal purity; 
 
 And dead upon the inhospitable street. 
 
 With gently floating flakes the piteous sky 
 
 Snow clad thy girlish limbs, as with a funeral sheet* 
 
SONNETS. 35 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 EPIPHANY. 
 
 As some great Actor^ when the rhythmic strain 
 
 Of musiC;, and the step of even dance 
 
 Hath ceased, in conscious pride is seen to advance 
 
 Fixing the wandering looks of all again: 
 
 On whom the choric band in comely train 
 
 Wait ever, duly with responsive parts 
 
 Timing his measured passion, but all hearts 
 
 He hath in hand to mould to pity or pain ; — 
 
 So in the scenic skies that wondrous Star 
 
 Came forth — and the myriads that spectators are 
 
 Of heavenly acts, baffled their lights in gloom, 
 
 To give the great Protagonist his way: 
 
 And the drama opened, that nor night nor day 
 
 Shall see consummate, till the final doom. 
 
36 SONNETS. 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 Saviour and Lord beloved — what homage new 
 
 Shall thy Church give thee in these latter days. 
 
 When there is nothing new? — no song of praise 
 
 That ages have not sung — nor worship due 
 
 That hath not long been paid? Faithful and tru( 
 
 Our hearts are beating to thee — can we raise 
 
 No monument for victories of grace — 
 
 Must all our efforts be so poor and few? 
 
 O vain and earthly wish — that would be great 
 
 In over-serving — rather may we lie 
 
 In meekest self devotion at thy feet, 
 
 And watch the quiet hours as they pass by. 
 
 Content and thankful for occasion shown 
 
 To make old service and old faith our own. 
 
SONNETS. 37 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 WRITTEN IN AN INTERVAL OF MELANCHOLY FOREBODING 
 RESPECTING THE CHURCH. 
 
 Herbert and Crashaw, and that other name 
 
 Now dear as those, of him beneath whose eye 
 
 Arose* ''the second Temple's" honoured frame 
 
 After a carnal dark captivity, — 
 
 These are remembrances of promise high. 
 
 That set our smouldering energies on flame 
 
 To dare for our Mother, and if need to die. 
 
 Sooner than blot her reverend cheek with shame. 
 
 Oh England, England ! there hath twined among 
 
 The woof of all thy gloomiest destinies 
 
 A golden thread : a sound of sweetest song 
 
 Hath cheered thee under sad and threatening skies ; 
 
 But thou hast revelled in the calm too long — 
 
 And waxest all unmindful where thy safety lies. 
 
 * See the conclusion of "The Rectory of Valehead;" also, that 
 of the Sermon "on the Fortunes of the Church" in "The Church 
 of God, a series of Sermons." 
 
38 SONNETS. 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 
 ON HEARING THAT IT IS SUPPOSED FROM ASTRONOMICAL 
 
 CONSIDERATIONS THAT THE WORLD IS YET IN 
 
 ITS INFANCY. 
 
 So then the lessons of all-teachmg Time 
 
 Shall not be fruitless: but the sons of men 
 
 Will live to ripen into age, and ken 
 
 The hidden laws of God; — the doubts and fears 
 
 That flit around us, when the hght appears 
 
 Shall cease to haunt us: and young Truth, by then 
 
 Vigorous for good, shall take his power and reign. 
 
 Nursed in the discipline of human tears. 
 
 O might I live, when from this stir of things, 
 
 That fills our days, some new and mighty birth 
 
 Of purest Mind hath risen upon the Earth ; 
 
 Or when my Spirit folds her weary wing 
 
 Where no Storm comes, watching with calm delight. 
 
 On Human Beauty feed my Angel-sight. 
 
BONNETS, 3,9 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 Blest be the taper which hath power to shed 
 
 Light on the features of that angel face; 
 
 Blest be the sadness of this solemn place ; 
 
 Blest be the circle round that parting bed 
 
 Whence many days all earthly hope hath fled; 
 
 And the Spirit which hath well nigh reached by Grace 
 
 The rest of toil, the guerdon of its race, 
 
 Faint, but with hidden manna gently fed. 
 
 Oft have ye tended, with unwearied care 
 
 This couch of her's, in anxious time of birth : 
 
 Your meed of love, her mother-joys to share ; 
 
 Now her's the joy, and ye are left to mourn: 
 
 For all your care can never keep on Earth 
 
 The glorious Child that shall to-night be born. 
 
40 SONNETS. 
 
 XL. 
 
 Still as a moonlight ruin is thy form. 
 
 Or meekness of carved marble, that hath prayed 
 
 For ages on a tomb; serenely laid 
 
 As some fair vessel that hath braved the storm 
 
 And past into her haven, when the noise 
 
 That cheered her home hath all to silence died. 
 
 Her crew have shoreward parted, and no voice 
 
 Troubles her sleeping image in the tide. 
 
 Sister and Saint, thou art a closed book 
 
 Whose holy printing none may yet reveal; 
 
 A few days thou art granted us to look 
 
 On thy clasped binding, till that One unseal. 
 
 The Lamb, alone found worthy, and above 
 
 Thou teach sweet lessons to the Kings of Love. 
 
SONNETS. 41 
 
 XLI. 
 
 Long we have mourned ; but now the worst hath come, 
 
 We cannot weep, nor feel as we have felt 
 
 For aught in sorrow: thou art all too calm 
 
 And solemn-silent on thy bed of death ; — 
 
 And that white sunken face hath never a sign 
 
 To make of aught disquieted within. 
 
 'Tis a most awful thing, that face of thine 
 
 Seared with the traces which the soul hath left, — 
 
 The settlement from all the stir of life. 
 
 The fixed conclusion of all modes of thought. 
 
 The final impress of all joys and cares : — 
 
 We dare not whisper when we look on thee ; 
 
 We scarce can breathe our breath when thou art by; 
 
 Dread image of the majesty of Man ! 
 
42 SONNETS. 
 
 XLII. 
 
 WELCOME;, stern Winter, though thy brows are bound 
 
 With no fresh flowers, and ditties none thou hast 
 
 But the wild music of the sweeping blast; 
 
 Welcome this chilly wind that snatches round 
 
 The brown leaves in quaint eddies; we have long 
 
 Panted in wearying heat; skies always bright 
 
 And dull return of never-clouded light 
 
 Sort not with hearts that gather food for song. 
 
 Rather, dear Winter, I would forth with thee. 
 
 Watching thee disattire the Earth; and roam 
 
 On the bleak heaths that stretch about my home, 
 
 Till round the flat horizon I can see 
 
 The purple frost-belt; then to fireside chair, 
 
 And sweetest labour of poetic care. 
 
SONNETS. 43 
 
 XLIII. 
 
 TO WILLIAM JACKSON OF EXETER. 
 
 Jackson, than whom none better skilled to lead 
 The willing spirit captive with sweet lays. 
 Searching the hidden fountain-heads which feed 
 Our love of Beauty — thine be all the praise 
 Of tuning to our England's hills and dales 
 Responsive melodies, whose music dwells 
 ^ Among the memories of early tales. 
 And far-off chime of unforgotten bells. 
 With thee, sick at the boastful ignorance 
 Of this dull age that hath no heart for song, 
 My winter hours I spend, and lead along 
 My thought in playful or in solemn dance, 
 Whether the harp discourse of fields and swains, 
 Or meditate high praise in angel strains. 
 
44 SONNETS 
 
 XLIV. 
 
 THE GIPSY GIRL. 
 
 Passing I saw her as she stood beside 
 A lonejy stream between two barren w^olds ; 
 Her loose vest hung in rudely-gathered folds 
 On her sw^art bosom, which in maiden pride 
 Pillowed a string of pearls; among her hair 
 Twined the light blue-bell, and the stonecrop gay 
 And not far thence the small encampment lay 
 Curling its wreathed smoke into the air. 
 She seemed a Child of some sun-favoured clime ; 
 So still, so habited to warmth and rest ; 
 And in my wayward musings on past time, 
 When my thought fills witli treasured memories. 
 That image nearest borders on the blest 
 Creations of pure Art that never dies. 
 
SONNETS. 45 
 
 XLV. 
 
 MERE NATURAL JOY IN THE FOLD OF CHRIST'S CHURCH MORE BLESSED 
 
 THAN THE SACRED SERVICES OF SELF-RELYING RELIGIONISTS. 
 
 DEO OPT. MAX. 
 
 If in the hour of heartless mockery, 
 
 When flesh-proud sects their simple-seeming show 
 
 Set up, and put thy hallowed ordinance by. 
 
 My spirit hath forgotten Thee; not so 
 
 When through the cloister aisle at dead of night 
 
 Gust the wild ravings of the winter blast; 
 
 Not so when sleep and solitude are past 
 
 And Heaven drinks joyance from the fresh-born Light; 
 
 Not so when truth of high Philosophy 
 
 Scarce found by searching long and wearisome 
 
 Forth from an early-loved one's mild blue eye 
 
 Beams, like a bright child from a cottage home : 
 
 Fraught with devotion and deep piety 
 
 *Tis then my soul doth worship — then I walk with Thee. 
 
4>6 SONNETS. 
 
 XLVI. 
 
 All things are dying round us : days and hours 
 A multitudinous troop, are passing on: 
 Winter is fled, and Spring hath shed her flowers. 
 And Summer's sun was shining, and hath shone: 
 Autumn was with us, but his work is done : 
 They all have flitted by, as doth a dream; 
 And we are verging onward. — 'Tis not so : 
 We name reality but as things seem, 
 And Truth is hidden from our eyes below. 
 We live but in the dimness of a sleep : — 
 Soon shall the veil be rent from certainty. 
 The spell of Time be loosed from us, and we 
 Pass out from this incurved and fretful stream 
 Into the bosom of the tranquil Deep. 
 
POEMS, 
 
 TO A DROP OF DEW. 
 
 SuN-begotten, ocean-born. 
 
 Sparkling in the summer morn 
 
 Underneath me as I pass 
 
 O'er the hill-top on the grass. 
 
 All among thy fellow drops 
 
 On the speary herbage tops 
 
 Round and bright and warm and still 
 
 Over all the Northern hill; 
 
 Who may be so blest as thee 
 
 Of the sons of men that be ? 
 
 Evermore thou dost behold 
 
 All the sunset bathed in gold, 
 
48 TO A DROP OF DEW. 
 
 Then thou listenest all night long 
 To the leaves' faint undersong 
 From two tall dark elms, that rise 
 Up against the silent skies; 
 Evermore thou drink' st the stream 
 Of the chaste moon's purest beam ; 
 Evermore thou dost espy 
 Every star that twinkles by ; 
 Till thou hearest the cock crow 
 From the barton far below ; 
 Till thou seest the dawn-streak 
 From the Eastern night-clouds break; 
 Till the mighty king of light 
 Lifts his unsoiled visage bright. 
 And his speckled flocks has driven 
 To batten in the fields of heaven ; 
 Then thou lightest up thy breast 
 With the lamp thou lovest best; 
 Many rays of one thou makest, 
 Giving three for one thou takest; 
 Love and constancy's best blue, 
 Sunny warmth of golden hue. 
 
TO A DROP OF DEW. 49 
 
 Glowing red, to speak thereby 
 Thine affection's ardency : — 
 Thus rejoicing in his sight, 
 Made a creature of his light, 
 Thou art all content to be 
 Lost in his immensity ; 
 And the best that can be said 
 When they ask why thou art fled. 
 Is, that thou art gone to share 
 With him the empire of the air. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
50 POEM&. 
 
 II. 
 
 TO A MOUNTAIN STREAM. 
 
 « 
 I NAMED thee once the silver thread. 
 When in the burning summer day 
 I stept across thy stony bed 
 Upon my homeward way. 
 
 For down an old rock's mossy steep 
 
 Thy thin bright stream, as I past by, 
 Into a calm pool clear and deep 
 Slid down most peacefully. 
 
 But now it is the Autumn eve. 
 
 Dark clouds are hurrying through the sky 
 Thy envious waters will not leave 
 One stone to cross thee by. 
 
TO A MOUNTAIN STREAM. 
 
 And all about that old steep rock 
 
 Thy foamy fall doth plash and roar, 
 Troubling with rude incessant shock 
 The pool so still before. 
 
 Thus happy childhood evermore 
 
 Betieath unclouded summer suns 
 On to its little lucid store 
 
 Of joy most calmly runs. 
 
 But riper age with restless toil 
 
 Ever for ampler pleasures frets; 
 And oft with infinite turmoil 
 Troubles the peace it gets. 
 
 c 2 
 
52 POEMS. 
 
 III. 
 
 FOR AN INSCRIPTION. 
 
 I WAS a young fair tree; 
 Each spring with quivering green 
 My boughs were clad; and far 
 Down the deep vale, a light 
 Shone from me on the eyes 
 Of those who past: a light 
 That told of sunny days 
 And blossoms^ and blue sky ; 
 For I was ever first 
 Of all the grove, to hear 
 The soft voice under ground 
 Of the warm- working Spring ; 
 And ere my brethren stirred 
 Their sheathed buds, the kine, 
 And the kine's keeper, came 
 Slow up the valley path. 
 
FOR AN INSCRIPTION. 53 
 
 And laid them underneath 
 My cool and rustling leaves; 
 And I could feel them there 
 As in the quiet shade 
 They stood, with tender thoughts. 
 That past along their life 
 Like wings on a still lake. 
 Blessing me — and to God, 
 The blessed God, who cares 
 For all my little leaves. 
 Went up the silent praise; 
 And I was glad, with joy 
 Which life of labouring things 
 111 knows, the joy that sinks 
 Into a life of rest. 
 
 Ages have fled since then : — - 
 But deem not my pierced trunk 
 And scanty leafage serves 
 No high behest; my name 
 Is sounded far and wide: 
 And in the Providence 
 That guides the steps of men 
 Himdreds have come to view 
 My grandeur in decay : 
 
54 POEMS. 
 
 And there hath passed troni me 
 
 A quiet influence 
 
 Into the minds of men : 
 
 The silver head of age, 
 
 The majesty of laws, 
 
 The very name of God, 
 
 And holiest things that are. 
 
 Have won upon the heart 
 
 Of humankind the more. 
 
 For that I stand to meet 
 
 With vast and bleaching trunk 
 
 The rudeness of the sky. 
 
ON THE EVENING OF A VILLAGE FESTIVAL. BT) 
 
 IV. 
 
 ON THE EVENING OF A VILLAGE FESTIVAL 
 
 While our shrub- walks darken^ 
 
 And the stars get bright aloft. 
 Sit we still and hearken 
 
 To the music low and soft; 
 By the old oak yonder 
 
 Where we watch the setting sun. 
 Listening to the far-off' thunder 
 
 Of the multitude as one : 
 
 Sit, my best beloved. 
 
 In the waning light: 
 Yield thy spirit to the teaching 
 
 Of each sound and sight : 
 While those sounds are flowing 
 
 To their silent rest: 
 While the parting wake of sunlight 
 
 Broods along the West. 
 
56' POEMS. 
 
 Sweeter 'tis to hearken 
 
 Than to bear a part: 
 Better to look on happiness 
 
 Than to carry a light heart: 
 Sweeter to walk on cloudy hills 
 
 With a sunny plain below. 
 Than to weary of the brightness 
 
 Where the floods of sunshine flow. 
 
 Souls that love each other 
 
 Join both joys in one; 
 Blest by other's happiness 
 
 And nourished by their own : 
 So with quick reflexion 
 
 Each its opposite 
 Still gives back, and multiplies 
 
 To infinite delight. 
 
LADY MARY. 57 
 
 LADY MARY. 
 
 Thou wert fair. Lady Mary, 
 
 As the lily in the sun : 
 And fairer yet thou mightest be, 
 
 Thy youth was but begun : 
 Thine eye was soft and glancing, 
 
 Of the deep bright blue ; 
 And on the heart thy gentle words 
 
 Fell lighter than the dew. 
 
 They found thee. Lady Mary, 
 With thy palms upon thy breast. 
 
 Even as thou hadst been praying. 
 At thine hour of rest: 
 c5 
 
58 jPOEMS. 
 
 The cold pale moon was shining 
 
 On thy cold pale cheek ; 
 And the morn of the Nativity 
 
 Had just begun to break. 
 
 They carved thee. Lady INIary, 
 
 All of pure white stone. 
 With thy palms upon thy breast, 
 
 In the chancel all alone: 
 And I saw thee when the winter moon 
 
 Shone on thy marble cheek, 
 When the morn of the Nativity 
 
 Had just begun to break. 
 
 But thou kneelest. Lady Mary, 
 
 With thy palms upon thy breast. 
 Among the perfect spirits, 
 
 Li the land of rest: 
 Thou art even as they took thee 
 
 At thine hour of prayer; 
 Save the glory that is on thee 
 
 From the sun that shineth there. 
 
LADY MARY. 59 
 
 We shall see thee, Lady IMary, 
 
 On that shore unknown, 
 A pure and happy angel 
 
 In the presence of the throne ; 
 We shall see thee, when the light divine 
 
 Plays freshly on thy cheek, 
 And the resurrection morning 
 
 Hath just begun to break. 
 
60 roEMs. 
 
 VI. 
 
 WRITTEN JANUARY 1, 1832. 
 
 The year is born to-day — methinks it hath 
 A chilly time of it; for down the sky 
 The flaky frost-cloud stretches, and the sun 
 Lifted his large light from the Eastern plains. 
 With gloomy mist-enfolded countenance. 
 And garments rolled in blood. Under the haze 
 Along the face of the waters, gather fast 
 Sharp spikes of the fresh ice — as if the year 
 That died last night, had dropt down suddenly 
 In his full strength of genial government, 
 Prisoning the sharp breath of the Northern winds; 
 Who now burst forth and revel unrestrained 
 Over the new king's months of infancy. 
 
 The bells rung merrily when the old year died ; 
 He past away in music ; his death-sleep 
 Closed on him like the slumber of a child 
 When a sweet hymn in a sweet voice above him 
 Takes up into its sound his gentle being. 
 
POEMS. 61 
 
 And we will raise to him two monuments ; 
 One where he died, and one where he lies buried ; 
 One in the pealing of those midnight bells. 
 Their swell and fall, and varied interchange. 
 The tones that come again upon the spirit 
 In years far off, mid unshaped accidents; — 
 And one in the deep quiet of the soul. 
 The mingled memories of a thousand moods 
 Of joy and sorrow; — and his epitaph 
 Shall be upon him — '' Here lie the remains 
 Of one, who was less valued while he lived. 
 Than thought on, when he died." 
 
62 POEMS. 
 
 VII, 
 
 LAST WORDS. 
 
 Refresh me with the bright blue violet, 
 
 And put the pale faint- scented primrose near;, 
 For I am breathing yet: 
 
 Shed not one silly tear. 
 But when mine eyes are set 
 Scatter the fresh flowers thick upon my bier. 
 And let my early grave with morning dew be wet. 
 
 I have passed swiftly o'er the pleasant earth. 
 My life hath been the shadow of a dream ; 
 The joyousness of birth 
 
 Did ever with me seem: 
 My spirit had no dearth, 
 But dwelt for ever by a full swift stream, 
 Lapt in a golden trance of never-failing mirth. 
 
LAST WORDS. t)3 
 
 Touch me once more, my father, ere my hand 
 Have not an answer for thee; — kiss my cheek 
 Ere the blood fix and stand 
 
 Where flits the hectic streak ; 
 Give me thy last command. 
 Before I lie all undisturbed and meek. 
 Wrapt in the snowy folds of funeral swathing-band. 
 
64 POEMS. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 A REMEMBRANCE. 
 
 Hiulf r] /ud0?jat9 ovk dWo tl tj dvdfxvyjcn^ Tvy ydveL ourra, kul kuto. 
 TOVTOV ai/ay/cjj irov ?;/xa§ ev Trporepiv tivl XP'^^'V fJiefxadijKevaL a vvv 
 
 Plato. Phado, <j. 47. 
 
 Methinks I can remember^ when a shade 
 
 All soft and flowery was my couch, and I 
 
 A little naked child with fair white flesh 
 
 And wings all gold-bedropt : and o'er my head 
 
 Bright fruits were hanging, and tall balmy shrubs 
 
 Shed odorous gums around me; and I lay 
 
 Sleeping and waking in that wondrous air 
 
 Which seemed infused with glory — and each breeze 
 
 Bore, as it wandered by, sweet melodies. 
 
 But whence I knew not: — one delight was there. 
 
 Whether of feeling or of sight or touch 
 
 I know not now — which is not on this earth, 
 
 Something all glorious and all beautiful 
 
A REMEMBRANCE. 
 
 Of which our language speaketh not^ and which 
 Flies from the eager graspings of my thought, 
 As doth the shade of a forgotten dream. 
 All knowledge had I ; but I cared not then 
 To search into my soul and draw it thence: 
 The blessed creatures that around me played 
 I knew them all, and where their resting was, 
 And all their hidden symmetries I knew. 
 And how the form is linked unto the soul, 
 I knew it all; but thought not on it then, 
 I was so happy. 
 
 And upon a time 
 I saw an army of bright beamy shapes. 
 Fair-faced and rosy-cinctured and gold-winged, 
 Approach upon the air : they came to me ; 
 And from a chrystal chalice silver-brimmed 
 Put sparkling potion to my lips, and stood 
 All round me in the many -blooming shade. 
 Shedding into the centre where I lay 
 A mingling of soft light; and then they sung 
 Songs of the land they dwelt in : and the last 
 Lingereth even till now upon mine ear. 
 
 65 
 
66 POEMS. 
 
 Holy and blest 
 Be the calm of thy rest, 
 For thy chamber of sleep 
 Shall be dark and deep ; 
 They will dig thee a tomb 
 In the dark deep womb. 
 In the warm dark womb. 
 
 Spread ye, spread the dew)^ mist around him. 
 Spread ye, spread, till the thick dark night surround him, 
 Till the dark long night hath bound him, 
 Which bindeth all before their birth 
 
 Down upon the nether earth. 
 The first cloud is beamy and bright. 
 The next cloud is mellowed in light, 
 The third cloud is dim to the sight. 
 And it stretcheth away into gloomy night : 
 Twine ye, twine the mystic threads around him, 
 Twine ye, twine — till the fast firm fate surround him. 
 Till the firm cold fate hath bound him. 
 Which bindeth all before their birth 
 Down upon the nether earth. 
 
A remp:mbrance. 67 
 
 The first thread is beamy and bright, 
 The next thread is mellowed in light, 
 The third thread is dim to the sight, 
 And it stretcheth away into gloomy night : — 
 
 Sing ye, sing the spirit song around him. 
 Sing ye, sing till the dull warm sleep surround him. 
 Till the warm damp sleep hath bound him. 
 Which bindeth all before their birth 
 Down upon the nether earth. 
 The first dream is beamy and bright. 
 The next dream is mellowed in light. 
 The third dream is dim to the sight, 
 And it stretcheth away into gloomy night: — 
 
 Holy and blest 
 
 Is the calm of thy rest. 
 
 For thy chamber of sleep 
 
 Is dark and deep ; 
 
 They have dug thee a tomb 
 
 In the dark deep womb. 
 
 The warm dark womb. 
 
68 POEMS. 
 
 Then dimness past upon me: and that song 
 Was sounding o'er me when I woke again 
 To be a pilgrim on the nether earth. 
 
 Twine ye, twine the mystic threads around him. 
 Twine ye, twine — till the fast firm fate surround him. 
 Till the firm cold fate hath bound him. 
 Which bindeth all before their birth 
 Down upon the nether earth. 
 
BALLAD. 69 
 
 IX. 
 
 BALLAD. 
 
 The Baron is back from his hawking come^ 
 
 At the close of the summer's day : 
 But the spots of red blood danced over his eyes 
 
 That he might not see the play — 
 
 And the heavy deep bells were tolling. 
 
 The Baron is back to his banquet come. 
 
 And hath sat him down to dine; 
 But his thoughts they ran on the red red blood 
 
 That he might not taste the wine — 
 
 And the heavy deep bells were tolling. 
 
 Now where were ye, sister, when I rode by. 
 
 For ye were not in your bower : — 
 Oh I was chasing a bright butterfly 
 
 That flew from flower to flower — 
 
 Where the summer rose-buds were blowing. 
 
70 POEMS. 
 
 And where were ye, sister, when I rode back, 
 
 For ye were not in your hall: — 
 Oh I was watching the large sun set 
 
 From off the castle wall — 
 
 When the yellow wall-flowers were closing. 
 
 But where were ye, sister, at mid of night. 
 
 For ye were not laid asleep : — 
 Oh I looked for love of the pale round moon 
 
 In the moat so still and deep — 
 
 When the loud night-birds were singing. 
 
 The Baron looked over the castle trees 
 
 At the turning of the sun ; 
 And that Lady wailed and tossed her hands 
 
 As she would never have done — 
 
 For her own true-love she's weeping. 
 
 The Baron looked over the dim church-yard 
 
 As the moon was on the wane; 
 And that Lady lay by a new-turned grave. 
 
 She may rise never again — 
 
 With her own true-love she's sleeping. 
 
BALLAD. 71 
 
 — Now up, thou Baron of Taunton tower, 
 
 To the holy cloister flee ; 
 For thou hast slain the truest pair 
 
 In all the West countree. 
 
 And the heavy deep bells are tolling. 
 
72 POEMS. 
 
 X. 
 
 TO THE ANGEL OF GUIDO. 
 
 Whereto shall I liken thee. 
 
 Thou with sunbright eyes divine? 
 Twilight never dimmeth thee. 
 
 Evermore thy sharp eyes shine; 
 Thou art like the morning star 
 
 On the forehead of the day. 
 Looking earthward from afar 
 
 When the night clouds float away ;- 
 
 Thou art like the sparkling fly 
 Dancing on the Eastern night. 
 
 Through a trellised gallery, 
 Up and down all fiery bright; 
 
TO THE ANGEL OF GUIDO. 78 
 
 Thou art like a starry flower 
 
 Hidden in a mist of green. 
 From beneath a woven bower 
 
 Here and there in glimpses seen. 
 
 All bright things are not so bright, 
 
 Not so deep as are thine eyes ; 
 Not the hollow blue at night, 
 
 Fading into other skies; 
 Not the blue Forget-me-not, 
 
 Bright and deep although it be ; 
 Not the rays from chrystals shot, 
 
 Nor the twinkling summer sea. 
 
 Fix thy full deep eyes on me. 
 
 Let me lose my being there ; 
 Let me pass out into thee 
 
 From my house of sin and care: 
 Surely all thine inner soul 
 
 Whence such lights for ever shine. 
 Must with mild and sweet controul 
 
 Purify and brighten mine. 
 
 VOL. I. D 
 
74 POEMS. 
 
 Or if this may never be. 
 
 Fix them full upon me still; 
 Let me borrow light from thee; — 
 
 Losing all my thought and will. 
 Quite absorbed, and emptied quite,- 
 
 In their lustrous brightness lost,— 
 All my sunshine turned to night, — 
 
 I'm contented with the cost. 
 
POEMS. 75 
 
 XI. 
 
 We looked into the silent sky. 
 
 We gazed upon thee, lovely Moon: 
 And thou wert shining clear and bright 
 In night's unclouded noon. 
 
 And it was sweet to stand and think 
 
 Amidst the deep tranquillity. 
 
 How many eyes at that still hour 
 
 Were looking upon thee. 
 
 The exile on the foreign shore 
 
 Hath stood and turned his eye on thee 
 And he hath thought upon his days 
 Of hope and infancy ; 
 d2 
 
76 POEMS. 
 
 And he hath said there may be those 
 
 Gazing upon thy beauty now. 
 Who stamped the last, the burning kiss 
 Upon his parting brow. 
 
 The captive in his grated cell 
 
 Hath cast him in thy peering light ; 
 And looked on thee, and almost blest 
 The solitary night. 
 
 The infant slumbereth in his cot. 
 
 And on him is thy liquid beam : 
 And shapes of soft and faery light 
 Have mingled in his dream. 
 
 The sick upon the sleepless bed 
 
 Scared by the dream of wild unrest, 
 The fond and mute companionship 
 Of thy sweet ray hath blest. 
 
 The mourner in thy silver beam 
 
 Hath laid his sad and wasted form: 
 And felt that there is quiet there 
 To calm his inward storm. 
 
POEMS. 77 
 
 — I looked — and on the eyes I loved 
 
 A dewy tear was glistening ; 
 And since that night, our hope of bliss 
 Hath been a sacred thing. 
 
\ 
 78 POEMS. 
 
 XII. 
 
 MIDNIGHT THOUGHTS. 
 
 'Tis just the moment when Time hangs in doubt 
 Between the parting and the coming day : 
 The deep clock tolleth twelve — and its full tide 
 Of swelling sound pours out upon the wind: 
 The bright cold stars are glittering from the sky. 
 And one of large light, fairer than the rest. 
 Looks through yon screen of leaf-deserted limes. 
 
 Not undelightful are the trains of thought 
 That usher in my midnights. Thou art there 
 Whom my soul loveth; in that calm still hour 
 Thy image floats before mine inward eye. 
 Placid as is the season, wrapt in sleep. 
 And heaving gently with unconscious breath ; 
 
MIDNIGHT THOUGHTS. 79 
 
 While thy bright guardian watches at thy head. 
 Unseen of mortal, through the nightly hours, 
 Active against intrusion on thy mind 
 Of aught unholy : careful to preserve 
 The sanctuary of thy spirit swept and pure 
 For early worship when thine eyelids wake. 
 Sleep softly, and wake softly ! — may thy dreams 
 Be all of Heaven, as mine are all of Thee .' 
 
80 POEMS. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 A DOUBT. 
 
 Wisdom is oft-times nearer when we stoop 
 Than when we soar. Wordsworth. 
 
 I KNOW not how the right may be : — 
 But I give thanks whene'er I see 
 Down in the green slopes of the West 
 Old Glastonbury's towered crest. 
 
 I know not how the right may be: — 
 But I have oft had joy to see 
 By play of chance my road beside 
 The Cross on which the Saviour died. 
 
 I know not how the right may be : — 
 But I loved once a tall elm tree 
 Because between its boughs on high 
 That Cross was opened on the sky. 
 
A DOUBT. 81 
 
 I know not how the right may be : — 
 But I have shed strange tears to see, 
 Passing an unknown town at night. 
 In some warm chamber full of light 
 A Mother and two Children fair 
 Kneeling with lifted hands at prayer. 
 
 I know not how it is — my boast 
 Of Reason seems to dwindle down ; 
 And my mind seems down-argued most 
 By forced conclusions not her own. 
 
 I know not how it is — unless 
 Weakness and strength are near allied; 
 And joys which most the spirit bless 
 Are furthest off from earthly pride. 
 
 B D 
 
82 POEMS. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 I HAVE found Peace in the bright earth 
 
 And in the sunny sky : 
 By the low voice of summer seas. 
 
 And where streams murmur by ; 
 
 I find it in the quiet tone 
 
 Of voices that I love : 
 By the flickering of a twilight fire. 
 
 And in a leafless grove; 
 
 I find it in the silent flow 
 
 Of solitary thought: 
 In calm half-meditated dreams. 
 
 And reasonings self-taught ; 
 
POEMS. 
 
 But seldom have I found such peace 
 
 As in the soul's deep joy 
 Of passing onward free from harm 
 
 Through every day's employ. 
 
 If gems we seek, we only tire. 
 And lift our hopes too high ; 
 
 The constant flowers that line our way 
 Alone can satisfy. 
 
84 POEMS. 
 
 XV. 
 
 To-morrow — 'tis an idle sound, 
 
 Tell me of no such dreary thing — 
 
 A new land whither I am bound 
 After strange wandering. 
 
 What care I if bright blossoms there 
 Unfold, and sunny be the field ; 
 
 If laded boughs in Summer air 
 Their pulpy fruitage yield? 
 
 While deck to-day my pleasant bower 
 Upon my own loved mountain-side 
 
 The azure periwinkle-flower 
 And violet deep-eyed.^ 
 
POEMS. 85 
 
 Tell nie not of to-morrow — calm 
 In his great hand I would abide 
 
 Who fills my present hour with balm, 
 And trust, whate'er betide. 
 
Sd 
 
 XVI. 
 
 I SOUGHT for Novelty — in vain 
 
 I searched the stores of Nature through 
 But now the object wished I gain — 
 
 Thy mercies. Lord, are ever new. 
 
 I sought for Beauty — set of sun. 
 
 And rainbow, and the rising hght, — 
 
 These all were fair, but quickly gone ; 
 Thy face, my God, is always bright. 
 
 I sought Fidelity — some friends 
 
 Have fallen away, and some endure : 
 
 And Death the firmest love-knot rends ; — 
 Thy Love, O Lord alone is sure. 
 
POEMS. 87 
 
 I sought for Truth — the more I sought 
 
 A living lie around me grew ; 
 False was all joy, all speech, all thought — 
 
 Thy promise, Lord, alone is true. 
 
88 
 
 XVII. 
 
 SIGN OF THE CROSS IN BAPTISM. 
 
 In token that thou shalt not fear 
 
 Christ crucified to own. 
 We print the Cross upon thee here, 
 
 And stamp thee his alone. 
 
 In token that thou shalt not blush 
 
 To glory in his name, 
 We blazon here upon thy front 
 
 His glory and his shame. 
 
 In token that thou shalt not flinch 
 Christ's quarrel to maintain. 
 
 But 'neath his banner manfully 
 Firm at thy post remain: 
 
ON THE SIGN OF THE CROSS IN BAPTISM. 89 
 
 In token that thou too shalt tread 
 
 The path he travelled hy, 
 Endure the cross, despise the shame, 
 
 And sit thee down on high : 
 
 Thus outwardly and visibly 
 
 We seal thee for his own : 
 And may the brow that wears his Cross, 
 
 Hereafter share his crown. 
 
90 POEMS. 
 
 XVIIL 
 
 HYMN FROM A MISSAL, 
 
 Thou that art the Father's Word, 
 Thou that art the Lamb of God, 
 Thou that art the Virgin's Son, 
 Thou that savest souls undone, 
 Sacred sacrifice for sin, 
 Fount of piety within. 
 
 Hail, Lord Jesus. 
 
 Thou to whom Thine angels raise 
 Quiring songs of sw^eetest praise, 
 Thou that art the flower and fruit, 
 Virgin born from Jesse's root. 
 Shedding holy peace abroad. 
 Perfect man and perfect God ; 
 
 Hail, Lord Jesus. 
 
HYMN FROM A MISSAL. 91 
 
 Thou that art the door of heaven, 
 Living bread in mercy given. 
 Brightness of the Father's face. 
 Everlasting Prince of Peace, 
 Precious pearl beyond all price, 
 Brightest star in all the skies. 
 
 Hail, Lord Jesus. 
 
 King and Spouse of holy hearts. 
 Fount of Love that ne'er departs. 
 Sweetest life, and brightest day. 
 Truest truth, and surest way 
 That leads onward to the blest 
 Sabbath of eternal Rest, 
 
 Hail, Lord Jesus. 
 
POEMS. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 AMOR MUNDANUS. 
 
 Freed from the womb, and from the bounds 
 
 With which the stepdame infancy 
 Our days of pupillage surrounds, 
 
 We spring up beautiful and free ; 
 Divine in form, divine in grace. 
 
 All wonderful to those who look 
 Upon the heavenly-printed face. 
 
 In which as in a living book 
 The characters of high descent 
 Are seen with air and motion blent. 
 
 Behold the curious Babe exploring 
 
 The furniture of its new earth ; 
 And Time with ministrant hand restoring 
 
 The bloom and strength it lost in birth ; 
 
A3IOR MUNDANUS. ^3 
 
 It is as though some magic power 
 
 Had shut the senses of a Bride, 
 And in strange air from hour to hour 
 
 She breathed away the summer-tide. 
 And woke and found herself alone 
 And all her sweet fore-castings gone; 
 
 It is as though she should not wear 
 
 The weeds of sober wddowhood. 
 But just to memory give a tear, 
 
 Then rise with stirring hope renewed ; 
 And ere the period of the Sun 
 
 In joyful garments habited 
 Leaning upon another One, 
 
 Should walk the flowery path to wed ; 
 And build among new children's eyes, 
 A home of rooted sympathies. 
 
 Child — that dost evermore desire 
 
 For something thou canst call thine own ; 
 
 In summer sun, by winter fire 
 Jealously bent to rule alone; 
 
94> 
 
 Thou gatherest round thee plenteous store 
 Wherewith to sate thy longing sight ; 
 
 Thou ever hast, and wishest more, 
 And so thou schoolest thy delight 
 
 To drink at every little stream 
 
 And bask in every daily beam. 
 
 And when thy limbs are proud and strong, 
 
 Thou seekest out a home to last. 
 Among the dainties that belong 
 
 To the strange shore where thou art cast; 
 For kisses and kind words bestowed 
 
 Thou quittest hope, and all content 
 Thou takest up thy calm abode 
 
 In the country of thy banishment; 
 Careless of tidings that relate 
 To winning back thy lost estate. 
 
AMOR CGELESTIS. 9«^ 
 
 XX. 
 
 AMOR CCELESTIS. 
 
 I HAVE a longing to be free ; 
 
 The soul that in me hides 
 Its mouldering fires, unwillingly 
 
 Its day of liberation bides. 
 
 Clouds, that above the flowery earth 
 
 Float onward in the air. 
 Rejoice as each day hath its birth. 
 
 They hurry on they list not where : 
 
 Birds, that along their gladsome way 
 
 Flutter in wavy flight. 
 Pipe in their arbours all the day 
 
 And rest upon their branch at night 
 
y6 POEMS. 
 
 Stars, like a fleet of glittering sail 
 
 On the upper ocean driven. 
 At the western haven never fail 
 
 To cease from earth and enter heaven ; 
 
 And then forth issuing from the east 
 When night winds softly blow. 
 
 They ride in order bright and blest. 
 
 Their clustered myriads none may know 
 
 Only this breath of life divine 
 
 May not escape away. 
 Nor move in the gold rays that shine 
 
 Around the blessed eye of day. 
 
 Only this bird of sweetest strain 
 Must hide its notes in gloom; 
 
 Only this purest flower from stain 
 In secret places veil its bloom. 
 
 Only this star of clearest light 
 
 Hath not its course above: 
 But undistinguished from the night 
 
 It dwells on earth, and wins no love. 
 
POEMS. 97 
 
 XXI. 
 
 When I am in my grave 
 
 The busy clouds will wander on ; 
 
 This Moon that silver-tips each dancing wave 
 Will shine as it hath shone. 
 
 When I am low in ground 
 
 The Spring will call and wake the flowers, 
 And yonder little knoll will show as gay 
 
 As it hath bloomed when ours. 
 
 When I am in the sky 
 
 Long leagues above the evening-star. 
 The city hum shall sound as fitfully 
 
 As now it comes from far. 
 
 VOL I. E 
 
98 POEMS. 
 
 When I am spirit clear, 
 
 More pure than is this ocean Moon, 
 The false world in the great Eternal's ear 
 
 Shall make no better tune. 
 
 God, lift me from the power 
 
 Of flesh-corruption; how shall I 
 
 Bear to be borne along with stainless flower 
 And fleec}^ cloud on high? 
 
 God, lift up unto me 
 
 The sinning heart of human-kind ; 
 How can I flutter down the skies and see 
 
 Their errant souls and blind? 
 
 Or wrap me in the light 
 
 That folds thy glory's outer zone ; 
 Be thou the sole horizon to my sight, 
 
 Content in Thee alone. 
 
ON THE DAY OF GENERAL THANKSGIVING. 99 
 
 XXII. 
 
 WRITTEN ON THE DAY OF GENERAL THANKSGIVIiNG, 
 
 April 14, 1833. 
 
 Surely, methinks, this Sabbath morn 
 Some brighter sunshine should adorn 
 
 Than Heaven vouchsafes on common days ; 
 And buds should burst, and all the throng 
 Of busy warblers crowd their song 
 
 To help the race of man to praise. 
 
 But on its birth no sun hath shined; 
 Ever the deep voice of the wind 
 
 Sweepeth the tree-tops far and near: 
 And on the branches not a bird 
 As on past morning-tides, is heard. 
 
 But all is winter-bound and drear. 
 e2 
 
100 POEMS. 
 
 Yet this ungladsome sky may teach 
 A lesson^, and these winds may preach 
 
 A sermon in the nation's ear ; 
 And souls not all unapt to learn 
 Some dim forebodings may discern 
 
 Of new disquietude and fear. 
 
 Great God, with trembling we rejoice ; 
 The echo of thy warning voice 
 
 Yet vibrates in the middle air : 
 Not yet thy glittering sword of death 
 Is peaceful laid within its sheath. 
 
 Ready to strike, as now to spare. 
 
HYMN FOR ALL SAINTS DAY IN THE MORNING. 101 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 HYMN FOR ALL SAINTS DAY IN THE MORNING. 
 
 Stand up before your God 
 
 You arm}' bold and bright;, 
 Saints martyrs and confessors 
 
 In your robes of white; 
 The Church below doth challenge you 
 
 To an act of praise : 
 Ready with mirth in all the earth 
 
 Her matin song to raise. 
 
 Stand up before your God 
 
 In beautiful array. 
 Make ready all your instruments 
 
 The while we mourn and pray ; 
 
102 POEMS. 
 
 For we must stay to mourn and pray 
 
 Some prelude to our song; 
 The fear of death has clogged our breath 
 
 And our foes are swift and strong. 
 
 But ye before your God 
 
 Are hushed from all alarm. 
 Out through the grave and gate of death 
 
 Ye have past into the calm; 
 Your fight is done, your victory won. 
 
 Through peril and toil and blood: 
 Among the slain on the battle plain 
 
 We buried ye where ye stood. 
 
 Stand up before your God, 
 
 Although we cannot hear 
 The new song he hath taught you 
 
 With our fleshly ear; 
 Our bosoms burn that hymn to learn. 
 
 And from the church below 
 Even while we sing, on heavenward wing 
 
 Some happy souls shall go. 
 
HYMN FOR ALL SAINTS DAY IN THE MORNING. 10 
 
 Ye stand before your God, 
 
 But we press onward still. 
 The soldiers of his army. 
 
 The servants of his will : 
 A captive band in foreign land 
 
 Long ages we have been; 
 But our dearest theme and our fondest dream 
 
 Is the home we have not seen. 
 
 We soon shall meet our God, 
 
 The hour is waxing on, 
 The day-spring from on high hath risen. 
 
 And the night is spent and gone; 
 The light of Earth it had its birth 
 
 And it shall have its doom ; 
 The Sons of Earth they are few in birth 
 
 But many in the tomb. 
 
104 POEMS. 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 THE PASSION OF ST AGNES. 
 
 From Prudentius Trepi (rretpdviov. 
 
 Near the town of Romulus, 
 Faithful Maid and Martyr blest, 
 
 Agnes hath her sepulchre; 
 From her holy place of rest 
 She can see the city towers, 
 
 She can hear the city stir; 
 There she watches, there she wons, 
 Rome preserving and her sons. 
 Pilgrim guiding on his way. 
 Blessing them that purely pray. 
 
 Double crown of martyrdom 
 
 She hath granted her ; 
 Chaste unspotted virginal. 
 Glory of a willing death. 
 
THE PASSION Ot' ST AGNES. 105 
 
 Christ-devoted;, she had scorned 
 
 Idol sacrifice to pay ; — 
 
 They had searched her long and sore. 
 
 Balancing her soul between 
 
 Offers thick of ease and bliss. 
 
 Iron-hearted threats of pain ; 
 
 Mild and proud she looked on them. 
 
 Ye may take and try me here. 
 
 So believe me, as ye see 
 
 Joy look from me in the fires. 
 
 Praises when ye list for cries. 
 
 Then the stark tormentor said, 
 It is easy to hush down 
 Struggling pain when life is cheap ; 
 But she hath a precious gem ; 
 Do she not our sacrifice. 
 Into public place impure 
 Be she led, and peril make 
 Of the pearl she loveth best ; 
 I^e she selleth but to buy 
 
 Visions of untasted bliss; 
 
 May be she will sell her dreams 
 To redeem her chastity. 
 E 5 
 
t06 ■ Poems. 
 
 Then the holy Agnes said, 
 Deem ye never that my Christ 
 Will forget his chosen so. 
 As to let the golden crown 
 Of my virgin brow be dimmed; 
 Ye may crust your steel with blood, 
 But my Christ and I have sworn 
 These his members bright and pure 
 Earthy lust shall never soil. 
 
 Thus she boasted, and was led 
 Blessed, in unblessed wise, 
 Where the public pavements meet; 
 There she stood, and every face 
 Of the reverential crowd 
 Turned away in fear and shame, 
 That they might not lightly look 
 On the holy treasure there; 
 One alone with slippery eye 
 Rashly dared her form to scan; 
 Swiftly leapt the winged fire 
 Down upon his truant sight; 
 Dazzled with the glory-flame 
 Prone he fell and quivering lay ; 
 
THE PASSION OF ST AGNES. 10? 
 
 Him his comrades lifting slow. 
 Bore away with words of dole. 
 
 She in holy triumph went 
 Hymning Christ with liquid song; — 
 One step hath she neared the door 
 Of the palace of the skies. 
 Yet another she must climb j — 
 Angry shouts the vanquished foe 
 
 Fierce defiance — Bare thy sword. 
 Do our hest, and strike her low. 
 
 When the blessed Agnes saw 
 Near her gleam the naked blade. 
 This, she cried with lightsome cheer. 
 Is the lover shall be mine; 
 Rather this, though icy chill 
 Be its edge and pitiless. 
 Than some youth of odours breathing. 
 Falsest vows in roses wreathing. 
 I will go to meet its suit. 
 So with Christ above the arch 
 Of yon heaven, a Virgin Spouse, 
 Shall my marriage feast begin. 
 
108 POEMS. 
 
 Husband;, roll thou back the doors 
 Of thy golden banquet house; 
 
 Call me, I will follow thee. 
 Virgin Victim, Virgin Spouse. 
 
 So she spoke, and bent her head 
 Blessed, in adoring wise ; 
 Once above her gleamed the steel. 
 Then the sacred river flowed 
 That makes glad the city of God ; 
 Then her spirit bounded forth 
 Free into the liquid air ; 
 Angels lined her upward way 
 With a path of snowy light. 
 Marvelling she beholds the earth 
 Under-spread her mounting feet. 
 Sees the shades beneath her roll 
 Round about the monstrous world; 
 Laughs to scorn the life of men 
 Tossed on waves of vanity : 
 Laughs the pomp of kings to scorn. 
 Robes, and gilded palaces, 
 Thirst of gold, and lust of power. 
 All our envy, all our hope. 
 
THK PASSION OF ST AGNES. 10.9 
 
 Agnes, in thy triumph high, 
 
 Faithful Maid and Martyr blest. 
 Treading in thy victory 
 
 On the ancient Dragon's crest. 
 Crowned by God with double crown 
 
 On thy clear and shining brow, 
 Happy Virgin, look thou down 
 
 On the souls that wrestle now. 
 
110 POEMS. 
 
 XXV. 
 
 HYMN TO THE SUN. 
 
 Methinks my spirit is too free 
 To come before thy presence high, 
 Obtruding on the earth and sky 
 
 Aught but their solemn joy at greeting thee ; 
 
 Methinks I should confess 
 
 Some awe, at standing in the way 
 Of this thy pomp at birth of day, 
 
 Troubling thy sole unrivalled kingliness. 
 
 Glorious Conqueror, unfolding 
 
 Over the purple distance 
 
 Thy might beyond resistance 
 Upon the charmed earth : that waits beholding 
 
HYMN TO THE SUN. Ill 
 
 The fulness of thy glory, ere she dare 
 
 To tell thee she rejoices 
 
 With all her myriad voices, 
 Too modest-meek thy first-born joys to share. 
 
 As the mingled blazing 
 
 Of a pomp of armed bands. 
 
 Over a strait into other lands. 
 Gladdens the sea-boy from the cliff-side gazing; 
 Watching the dazzling triumph pass. 
 
 Rolling onward deep and bright 
 
 With shifting waves of light. 
 From floating of crimson banners, and horns of 
 wreathed brass; 
 
 As the beacon to that scout of old 
 
 Searching the benighted sky 
 
 With watch-wearied eye. 
 Brought sudden gratulation manifold; 
 Bridging all the furrowed waves between 
 
 Ida and Athos, and the Lemnian steep. 
 
 And ^giplanctus, and the deep 
 Roll of the bay of Argos, with a track of sheen ; 
 
112 POEMS. 
 
 So joyous on this Eastward-fronting lawn 
 
 After the keen-starred night 
 
 The lifting of thy light 
 Fulfilleth all the promise of the dawn ; 
 Like the bursting of a golden flood 
 
 Now flowing onward fast 
 
 Over the dewy slopes^ now cast 
 Among flushed stems on yonder bank of wood. 
 
 With such a pomp methinks thou didst arise 
 
 When hand in hand divinely fair 
 
 The fresh-awakened pair 
 Stood gazing from thick-flowered Paradise : 
 Uncertain whether thou wert still the same 
 
 They saw sink down at night, 
 
 Or some great new- created light. 
 Or the glory of some Seraph as he downward came. 
 
 Thus didst thou rise that first unclouded morn 
 
 Over the waters blank and still. 
 
 When on the Assyrian hill 
 Rested the ark, and the new world was born : 
 
HYMN TO THE SUN. 11. S 
 
 And when upon the strange unpeopled land. 
 
 With hands outspread and lifted eyes 
 
 Stood round the primal sacrifice. 
 Under a bright-green mount, the Patriarchal band. 
 
 With seven-fold glory thou shalt usher in 
 
 The new and mighty birth 
 
 Of the latter earth; 
 With seven days' light that morning shall begin, 
 Waking new songs and many an Eden-flower ; 
 
 While over the hills and plains shall rise 
 
 Bright groups, and saintly companies. 
 And never a cloud shall blot thee — never a tempest 
 lour. 
 
114 POEfllS. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 HYMN TO THE SEA. 
 
 Who shall declare the secret of thy birth. 
 Thou old companion of the circling earth? 
 And having reached with keen poetic sight 
 
 Ere beast or happy bird 
 
 Through the vast silence stirred. 
 Roll back the folded darkness of the primal night? 
 
 Corruption-like, thou teemedst in the graves 
 Of mouldering systems, with dark weltering waves 
 Troubling the peace of the first mother's womb; 
 
 Whose ancient awful form 
 
 With inly-tossing storm 
 Unquiet heavings kept — a birth-place and a tomb. 
 
HYMN TO THE SEA. 115 
 
 Till the life-giving Spirit moved above 
 The face of the waters, with creative love 
 Warming the hidden seeds of infant light : 
 What time the mighty word 
 Through thine abyss was heard. 
 And swam from out thy deeps the young day heavenly 
 bright. 
 
 Thou and the earth, twin-sisters as they say. 
 In the old prime were fashioned in one day ; 
 And therefore thou delightest evermore 
 With her to lie and play 
 The summer hours away. 
 Curling thy loving ripples up her quiet shore. 
 
 She is a married matron long ago 
 With nations at her side ; her milk doth flow 
 Each year; but thee no husband dares to tame; 
 
 Thy wild will is thine own. 
 
 Thy sole and virgin throne — 
 Thy mood is ever changing — thy resolve the same. 
 
 Sunlight and moonlight minister to thee ; — 
 O'er the broad circle of the shoreless sea 
 
116 
 
 POEMS. 
 
 Heaven's two great lights for ever set and rise ; 
 While the round vault above 
 In vast and silent love 
 Is gazing down upon thee with his hundred eyes. 
 
 All night thou utterest forth thy solemn moan. 
 Counting the weary minutes all alone : 
 
 Then in the morning thou dost calmly lie 
 
 Deep-bluC;, ere yet the sun 
 
 His day-work hath begun, 
 Under the opening windows of the golden sky. 
 
 The Spirit of the mountain looks on thee 
 Over an hundred hills : quaint shadows flee 
 Across thy marbled mirror : brooding lie 
 
 Storm-mists of infant cloud 
 
 With a sight-baffling shroud 
 MantUng the grey-blue islands in the Western sky. 
 
 Sometimes thou liftest up thine hands on high 
 Into the tempest-cloud that blurs the sky. 
 Holding rough dalliance with the fitful blast; 
 
 Whose stiff breath whistling shrill 
 
 Pierces with deadly chill 
 The wet crew feebly clinging to their shattered mast. 
 
HYMN TO THE SEA. 117 
 
 Foam- white along the border of the shore 
 Thine onward-leaping billows plunge and roar; 
 While o'er the pebbly ridges slowly glide 
 
 Cloaked figures, dim and gray 
 
 Through the thick mist of spray. 
 Watchers for some struck vessel in the boiling tide. 
 
 — Daughter and darling of remotest eld — 
 Time's childhood, and Time's age thou hast beheld; 
 His arm is feeble, and his eye is dim : 
 
 He tells old tales again — 
 
 He wearies of long pain: — 
 Thou art as at the first — thou journiedst not with him. 
 
lis POEMS. 
 
 XXVIL 
 
 I STAND upon the margin of our level lake; 
 The daylight from the West is fading fast away ; 
 The rooks above the wood their evening concert make. 
 And in the gleaming pool the fishes leap and play. 
 
 Eastward appearing dimly through the golden haze 
 The moon in perfect circle lifts her solemn light; 
 The waters tremble ever with a restless blaze, 
 With ripples and wood-shadows dappled dark and bright. 
 
 Why is my deathless spirit bound to minister 
 
 To transient matter ? fettered to this vision fair 
 
 I seem to lose all breath, no thought hath power to stir: 
 
 Ye take too much upon you, sights of earth and air ! 
 
POEMS. 119 
 
 Is it some purpose high of fete or festival 
 For Beings never pierced by edge of mortal sight ; 
 And are there poured around me camping within call 
 A beautiful throng of angels triumphing in delight? 
 
 Is it for some pure Spirits torn on earth asunder 
 Who long long years have pined in solitude and woe 
 To meet together here, and speak their love and wonder. 
 And feast on joy that none but risen souls can know? 
 
 Might I but reach the secret of that hidden power 
 That dwells in the mute children of our parent Earth, 
 The magic that can bind together in one hour 
 Contented joy, and yearnings for our mightier birth ! 
 
120 POEMS. 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 ''Father, wake — the storm is loud 
 
 The rain is falling fast; 
 Let me go to my Mother's grave 
 
 And screen it from the blast ; 
 She cannot sleep, she will not rest, 
 
 The wind is roaring so ; 
 We prayed that she might lie in peace— 
 
 My Father, let us go." 
 
 ''Thy Mother sleeps too firm a sleep 
 
 To heed the wind that blows; 
 There are Angel-charms that hush the noise 
 
 From reaching her repose. 
 Her spirit in dreams of the blessed Land 
 
 Is sitting at Jesu's feet; 
 Child, nestle thee in mine arms and pray 
 
 Our rest may be as sweet." 
 
WRITTEN DURING AN AURORA BOREALIS. 121 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 WRITTEN DURING AN AURORA BOREALIS, 
 January 7, 1831. 
 
 Lo, where they play, the fiery squadrons bright^ 
 Along the spangled azure of the night; 
 Waving aloft their ensigns, where the while 
 Wheels to the sphered music many a file 
 Of heavenly soldiery — and poured on high 
 Far o'er the Orient and the southern sky, 
 Fair stations of still fire their watches keep, 
 O'er half the world entranced in slumber deep ; 
 Or, issuing into brightness, dome and hall. 
 And palace front distinct with columns tall. 
 In mystic maze of varied light are driven 
 Along the pictured concave of the Heaven: 
 And ever and anon upon the North 
 Vistas of rosy flame are opening forth, 
 
 VOL. I. F 
 
122 ■ POEMS. 
 
 And centres of intense and throbbing light 
 Pour eddying brillance o'er the arch of Night. 
 
 So, in the primal infancy of Man, 
 Ere yet the desolating curse began, 
 Hues of celestial sheen were wont to rise 
 Far o'er the blosmy groves of Paradise; 
 While the blest pair stood wondering to behold 
 Shiftings of myriad gleams from wings of gold. 
 And in a deeper glory faint descried. 
 Mid blazonry of banners floating wide, 
 Some Seraph Hierarch, on his aery way 
 Companied earthward by that high array. 
 
PSALM XLVI. 123 
 
 XXX. 
 
 PSALM XLVI. 
 
 God is our refuge and our strength 
 When trouble's hour is near : 
 
 A very present help is he, 
 Therefore we will not fear : 
 
 Although the pillars of the earth 
 
 Shall clean removed be: 
 The very mountains carried forth 
 
 And cast into the sea : 
 
 Although the waters rage and swell 
 So that the earth shall shake ; 
 
 Yea, and the solid mountain roots 
 Shall with the tempest quake : 
 p2 
 
124 POEMS. 
 
 There is a river which makes glad 
 
 The city of our God ; 
 The tabernacle's holy place 
 
 Of the Most High's abode. 
 
 The Lord is in the midst of her^, 
 Removed she shall not be. 
 
 Because the Lord our God himself 
 Shall help her speedily. 
 
 The heathen lands make much ado, 
 The kingdoms join the fray; 
 
 But God hath shewed forth his voice. 
 And the earth shall melt away. 
 
 The Lord of hosts our refuge is 
 When trouble's hour is near; 
 
 The God of Jacob is with us. 
 Therefore we will not fear. 
 
PSALM CXXXVII. 125 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 PSALM CXXXVII. 
 
 By Babylon streams we sat us down and wept, 
 When we remembered Zion mournfully; 
 As for our harps, we hanged them up 
 Upon the willow-trees that grew thereby. 
 
 Then they that led us captive asked of us 
 A song, and melody in our dreary day; 
 
 Come sing us one of Zion's songs — 
 How can we sing the Lord's song far away ? 
 
 If I forget thee, O Jerusalem, 
 
 Let my right hand forget her best employ; 
 
 Let my tongue cleave unto my mouth. 
 If I prefer not thee to all my joy. 
 
126 POEMS. 
 
 Remember, Lord, remember Edom's sons, 
 
 How they stood round and shouted in their mirth. 
 
 At the dark day of Jerusalem — 
 Down with it, down with it, even to the earth. 
 
 Daughter of Babylon, thy doom is sealed — 
 Yea, happy he who deals thee recompence ; 
 
 And dasheth down upon the stones 
 With ruthless hands thy helpless innocents. 
 
PSALM XXIV. 127 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 PSALM XXIV. 
 
 CHORUS OF ANGELS. 
 
 The Earth is God's; the fullness too 
 
 Of all that therein is; 
 Upon the floods he founded it;, 
 
 And built it on the seas. 
 
 SEMI-CHORUS I. 
 
 Who shall go up the hill of God, 
 And in his dwelling stand .^ 
 
 SEMI-CHORUS II, 
 
 Even the man of pure intent 
 And undefiled hand. 
 
128 POEMS. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Who hath not lifted up his heart 
 
 To trust in vanity; 
 Nor dealt untruly by his friend. 
 
 Nor sworn deceitfully. 
 The family of Israel, 
 
 The men who seek his face. 
 These shall be blest and righteous held 
 
 Before the God of Grace. 
 
 SEMI-CHORUS I. 
 
 Lift up your heads, ye gates. 
 And be ye lifted up. 
 Ye everlasting doors; 
 And the King of Glory shall come in. 
 
 SEMl-CHORUS II. 
 
 Who is the King of Glory ? 
 
 SEMI-CHORUS I. 
 
 Jehovah strong and mighty, 
 Jehovah strong in battle. 
 
PSALM XXIV. 129 
 
 SEMI-CHORUS II. 
 
 Lift up your heads, ye gates. 
 And be ye lifted up. 
 Ye everlasting doors; 
 And the King of Glory shall come in. 
 
 SEMI-CHORUS 1. 
 
 Who is the King of Glory? 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Jehovah of Sabaoth, 
 
 He is the King of Glory. 
 
 F.5 
 
130 POEMS. 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 Thou little flower, that on thy stem 
 
 Totterest as the breezes blow. 
 There is no strife with thee and them— 
 
 They kiss thee as they go. 
 The pretty Lambs welcome their life 
 
 In the fresh morning of the year ; 
 Taking no forethought of the knife, 
 
 They play and do not fear. 
 
 Bow down thy head, thou little flower. 
 
 Shew not so trim and gay; 
 Lie still and pass thine evil hour — 
 
 Look up another day. 
 Thou pretty Lamb, on tender sward 
 
 No more quaint gambols take ; 
 Cheat thy soft life of fate so hard. 
 
 Lie still and do not wake. 
 
POEMS, 131 
 
 They will not heed; for some kind Power 
 
 Long as the sun and stars remain, 
 Hath cast together in one hour 
 
 The lots of joy and pain. 
 From conflict of the stern and mild 
 
 Rises the life of gentlest things. 
 And out of mixtures strange and wild 
 
 Most quiet beauty springs. 
 
^o2 POEMS. 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 There is a wood, not far from where I pass 
 My unrecorded hours in pleasant toil; — 
 Each tangle of the spreading boughs I know. 
 And where each bird doth nestle; every pool 
 That makes a mirror for the quivering leaves; 
 The days are past when I could wander on 
 And lose myself, expecting at each turn 
 New pillared avenues of stately trees, 
 And glimpses of far waters. 
 
 Even thus 
 Will all the joy and beauty of this Earth 
 Become familiar things; wonder shall yield 
 To cold arrangement; and the voices deep 
 Of the great Kings of Song shall cease to stir 
 
POEMS. 133 
 
 Mine inner fount of tears. The power of God 
 Shall not be thereby shortened in my soul. 
 But in my weakness rather perfect made, 
 In the sure progress of untroubled Love 
 That heals the fevered heart; as in the morn 
 Upon the fading of the partial stars 
 Wins the calm Daylight, over all diffused. 
 
134 POEMS. 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 THE BALLAD OF GLASTONBURY. 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 Glastonbury, anciently called Avalon, is a place much celebrated 
 both in tradition and history. It was here, according to old legends, 
 when the neighbouring moors were covered by the sea, that St Joseph 
 of Arimathea landed, and built the first church in England. It was 
 here that the glorious King Arthur was buried, with the inscription 
 
 Tkit jatet '^ttitrus, xtx quontiam, rexque futttrus. 
 It was here that the scarcely less glorious King Alfred took sanc- 
 tuary, and hence that he went into voluntary obscurity when the 
 Danes invaded England. Here also was built that magnificent Abbey, 
 whose riches and hospitality were known to all Christendom. Its last 
 Abbot was murdered on the Tor-hill, by order of Henry the Eighth, 
 and the building was sacrificed to the misguided fury of the Reform- 
 ation. The very ruins are now fast perishing. 
 
 The Quantock Hills, alluded to in the following Poem, are in the 
 autumn profusely covered with the mingled blossoms of heath and 
 furze. 
 
THE BALLAD OF GLASTONBURY. 135 
 
 The hills have on their royal robes 
 
 Of purple and of gold, 
 And over their tops the autumn clouds 
 
 In heaps are onward rolled ; 
 Below them spreads the fairest plain 
 
 That British eye may see — 
 From Quantock to the Mendip range, 
 
 A broad expanse and free. 
 
 As from, those barriers, grey and vast. 
 
 Rolled off the morning mist. 
 Leaving the eyesight unrestrained 
 
 To wander where it list. 
 So roll, thou ancient chronicler. 
 
 The ages' mist away ; 
 Give me an hour of vision clear, 
 
 A dream of the former day. 
 
136 
 
 POEMS. 
 
 III. 
 
 At once the flood of the Severn sea 
 
 Flowed over half the plain. 
 And a hundred capes^ with huts and trees, 
 
 Above the flood remain : 
 'Tis water here and water there, 
 
 And the lordly Parret's way 
 Hath never a trace on its pathless face — 
 
 As in the former day. 
 
 Of shining sails that thronged that stream 
 
 There resteth never a one ; 
 But a little ship to that inland sea 
 
 Comes bounding in alone ; 
 With stretch of sail and tug of oar 
 
 It comes full merrily. 
 And the sailors chant, as they pass the shore, 
 
 ^Ibi gloria IBominc. 
 
THE BALLAD OP GLASTONBURY 137 
 
 " Nights and days on the watery ways 
 
 Our vessel hath slidden on. 
 Our arms have never tired of toil. 
 
 Our stores have long been done; 
 Sweet Jesus hath sped us over the wave, 
 
 By coasts and along the sea. 
 And we sing, as we pass each rising land, 
 
 EiU gloria IBominc. 
 
 VI. 
 
 '' Sweet Jesus hath work for us to do 
 
 In a land of promise fair ; 
 Our vessel is steered by an angel-hand 
 
 Until it bring us there : 
 To our Captain given, a sign from heaven 
 
 Our token true shall be; 
 And we sing, as we wait for the Promise-sign, 
 
 Vlihi gloria IBomine. 
 
138 POEMS. 
 
 VII. 
 
 " When a dark green hill shall spire aloft 
 
 Into the pure blue sky, 
 Most like to Tabor's holy mount 
 
 Of vision blest and high ; 
 Straight to that hill our bounding prow 
 
 Unguided shall pass and free; 
 Sweet Jesus hath spoken, and we believe— 
 
 'iE^M gloria Bominc." 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Thus far they sung, and at once a shout 
 
 Pealed upward loud and clear; 
 For, lo! the vessel onward ran 
 
 With never a hand to steer; 
 And full in sight that Promise-hill 
 
 Towered up into the sky. 
 Most like to Tabor's holy mount 
 
 Of vision blest and high. 
 
THE BALLAD OF GLASTONBURY. ISQ 
 
 IX. 
 
 Now raise the song, ye faithful crew, 
 
 Let all the uplands hear; 
 It fitteth Salvation's messengers 
 
 To be of joyous cheer: 
 For Avalon isle ye make the while 
 
 By angel-pilot's hand; 
 Right onward for that pointed hill, 
 
 Straight to the sloping land. 
 
 Each arm it is resting, and every eye 
 
 With thankful tear is bright; 
 Thus spake one high upon the prow, 
 
 Feeding his forward sight: 
 " The word of God is just and true. 
 
 And the mountains green that stand 
 To left and right in the morning light 
 
 Lead on to our Promise-land. 
 
140 POEMS. 
 
 XI. 
 
 ^' Sweet Jesus hath broken the sepulchre, 
 
 And pours his golden grace. 
 Clothing the earth with the joy of birth, 
 
 In every fairest place; 
 His servant asked a token sure. 
 
 And a token sure is given ; 
 And he that lay in the garden-tomb 
 
 Is Lord of Earth and Heaven/' 
 
 XII. 
 
 By this the vessel had floated nigh 
 
 To the turf upon the strand. 
 And first that holy man of joy 
 
 Stepped on the Promise-land; 
 Until the rest in order blest 
 
 Were ranged, and kneeling there. 
 Gave blessing to the God of Heaven 
 
 In a lowly chanted prayer. 
 
THE BALLAD OF GLASTONBURY. 141 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Then over the brow of the seaward hill 
 
 In their order blest they pass, 
 At every change in the psalmody 
 
 Kissing the holy grass; 
 Till they come where they may see full near 
 
 That pointed mountain rise^, 
 Darkening with its ancient cone 
 
 The light of the Eastern skies. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 "This staff hath borne me long and well/' 
 
 Then' spake that Saint divine, 
 *^'Over mountain and over plain. 
 
 On quest of the Promise-sign ; 
 For aye let it stand in this Western land. 
 
 And God do more to me 
 If there ring not out from this realm about 
 
 V^ihi glocta IBomins. 
 
142 POEMS. 
 
 XV. 
 
 A cloud is on them, — the vision is changed^ 
 
 And voices of melody. 
 And a ring of harps, like twinkles bright, 
 
 Come over the inland sea; 
 Long and loud is the chant of praise, — 
 
 The hallowed ages glide : — 
 And once again the mist from the plain 
 
 Rolls up the Mendip side. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 With mourning stole and solemn step, 
 
 Up that same seaward hill. 
 There moved of ladies and of knights 
 
 A company sad and still ; 
 There went before an open bier. 
 
 And, sleeping in a charm. 
 With face to heaven and folded palms 
 
 There lay an armed form. 
 
THE BALLAD OF GLASTONBURY. 143 
 
 XVII. 
 
 It is the winter deep, and all 
 
 The glittering fields that morn 
 In Avalon's isle were over-snowed 
 
 The day the Lord was born; 
 And as they cross the Northward brow. 
 
 See white, but not with snow. 
 The mystic thorn beside their path 
 
 Its holy blossoms show. 
 
 xvin. 
 
 They carry him where from chapel low 
 
 Rings clear the angel- bell, — 
 He was the flower of knights and lords, 
 
 So chant the requiem well; — 
 His wound was deep, and his holy sleep 
 
 Shall last him many a day. 
 Till the cry of crime in the latter time 
 
 Shall melt the charm away. 
 
144 POEMS. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 A cloud is on them — the vision fades — 
 
 And cries of woe and fear, 
 And sounds unblest of neighbouring war. 
 
 Are thronging on mine ear: — 
 Long and loud was the battle-cry. 
 
 And the groans of them that died; 
 And once again the mist from the plain 
 
 Rolls up the Mendip side. 
 
 XX. 
 
 From the postern-door of an abbaye pile 
 
 Passes with heavy cheer 
 A sOldier-king in humble mien. 
 
 For the shouting foes are near; 
 The holy men by their altars bide. 
 
 In alb and stole they stand ; 
 The incense-fumes the temple fill 
 
 From blessed children's hand. 
 
THE BALLAD OF GLASTONBURY, 145 
 
 XXI. 
 
 Slow past the King that seaward brow, 
 
 Whence turning he might see 
 Streaming upon Saint Michael's Tor 
 
 The Pagan blazonry; 
 Then a pealing shout and a silence long, 
 
 And rolling next on high 
 Dark vapour laced with threads of flame 
 
 Angered the twilight sky. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 The cloud comes on, the vision is changed — 
 
 And songs of victory, 
 And hymns of praise to the Lord of Peace, 
 
 Come over the inland sea ; 
 The waters clear, the fields appear. 
 
 The plain is green and wide ; 
 And once again the mist from the plain 
 
 Rolls up the Mendip-side. 
 
 VOL, I. 
 
14(5 POEMS. 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 The plats were green with lavish growth. 
 
 And, like a silver cord, 
 Down to the Northern bay the Brue 
 
 Its glittering water poured; 
 Far and near the pilgrims throng. 
 
 With staff and humble mien. 
 Where Glastonbury's crown of towers 
 
 Against the sky is seen. 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 By the holy thorn and the holy well, 
 
 And St Joseph's silver shrine. 
 They offer thanks to highest Heaven 
 
 For the Light and Grace divine; 
 In the open cheer of the abbaye near. 
 
 They dwell their purposed day. 
 And then they part, with blessed thoughts, 
 
 Each on his homeward way. 
 
THE BALLAD OF GLASTONBURY. 14? 
 
 The cloud drops down, the vision is changed. 
 
 And an altered sound of pride. 
 And a glitter of pomp is cast athwart 
 
 The meadows green and wide. 
 The servants of a lowly Lord 
 
 On earth's high places ride; — 
 And once again the mist from the plain 
 
 Rolls up the Mendip-side. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 The strong man armed hath dwelt in peace 
 
 Till a stronger hath sacked his home ; 
 And the church that married the pride of the earth 
 
 By the earth is overcome: 
 There hath sounded forth upon the land 
 
 That wicked King's behest. 
 And Lust and Power from Lust and Power 
 
 A blighted triumph wrest. 
 
 g2 
 
lis POEMS. 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 The winds are high in Saint Michael's Tor, 
 
 And a sorry sight is there — 
 A dark-browed band with spear in hand 
 
 Mount up the turret-stair; 
 With heavy ciieer and lifted palms 
 
 There kneels a holy priest; 
 The fiends of death they grudge his breath. 
 
 To hold their rapine-feast. 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 The cloud comes on them — the vision is changed- 
 
 And a crash of lofty walls. 
 And the short dead sound of music quenched. 
 
 On the sickened hearing falls; 
 Quick and sharp is the ruin cry, — 
 
 Unblest the ages glide — 
 And once again the mist from the plain 
 
 Rolls up the Mendip-side. 
 
THE BALLAD OF GLASTONBURY. 14.9 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 Low-sloping over sea and field 
 
 The setting ray had past. 
 On roofs, and curls of quiet smoke 
 
 The glory-flush was cast. 
 Clustered upon the Western side 
 
 Of Avalon's green hill. 
 Her ancient homes and fretted* towers 
 
 Were lying, bright and still; 
 
 XXX. 
 
 And lower, in the valley-field. 
 
 Hid from the parting day, 
 A brotherhood of columns old, 
 
 A ruin rough and gray; 
 And over all. Saint Michael's Tor 
 
 Spired up into the sky — 
 Most like to Tabor's holy mount 
 
 Of vision blest and high. 
 
150 POEMS. 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 The vision changeth not— no cloud 
 
 Comes down the Mendip-side; 
 The moors spread out beneath my feet 
 
 Their free expanse and wide; 
 On glittering cots and ancient towerS;, 
 
 That rise among the dells^, 
 On mountain and on bending stream 
 
 The light of evening dwells. 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 The funeral wail of pomp and pride 
 
 Hath sunk away to rest; 
 On to the misty future glide 
 
 The ages not unblest; 
 From shaded home, from field and hill, 
 
 In peace and purity, 
 The hymn goes up from England's heart, 
 
 ^ihi gloria Bomine." 
 
WRITTEN IN AN ARTIFICIAL PLEASURE-GROUND. 151 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 WRITTEN IN AN ARTIFICIAL PLEASURE-GROUND. 
 
 'Tis pretty, doubtless: water, grass, and trees. 
 The man who hath a heart must always please: 
 The morning glories from yon steaming lake 
 A thousand colours into being wake ; 
 The naked sunlight of the summer day " 
 Is veil'd by boughs that overarch the way ; 
 And moonlight sweetly in her silver flood 
 Bathes the long reaches of the lawn and wood. 
 
 But ever comes upon the sated breast 
 A sense of incompleteness and unrest, 
 A loathing of the fretfulness of men. 
 And yearning for Earth's natural face again. 
 
152 POEMS. 
 
 Thus when surprised our family circle bend 
 Over some token sent us by a friend. 
 Admire the traces of his happy art. 
 Turn every side, and criticise each part, — 
 Emblazoned in the tradesman's mystic lines, 
 Lo at the back a three and sixpence shines ! 
 
PALINODE TO THE FOREGOING. 153 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 PALINODE TO THE FOREGOING. 
 
 Thus sung I in these grounds erewhile, perchance 
 Tempted by sudden aptitude of words 
 Into that measure which least pleaseth me. 
 Sacred to Satire and unquiet thought. 
 Forgive me, shades — forgive me, thou calm lake 
 Of spreading water, quietly asleep 
 Between thy fringing woods : Man is not less 
 Than Nature holy ; and these records fair 
 Of striving after likeness to the forms 
 Of natural beauty may not be despised 
 By man, as them imperfect ; rather stored 
 Within the patient spirit, if perhaps 
 The slow-learnt lesson of obeying God 
 
 g5 
 
154 POEMS. 
 
 By them be furthered, and the complete soul 
 
 Pass from the fretful crowd of hopes and fears 
 
 Into her silent oratory, where. 
 
 With calm submission and unshaken trust, 
 
 She may lay out herself to imitate 
 
 All forms of beauty spiritual, and make 
 
 A pleasure-ground within, for angels fit. 
 
 And Him whose voice was heard among the trees. 
 
 Walking in Eden in the cool of the day. 
 
A HYMN FOR FAMILY WORSHIP. 155 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 
 A HYMN FOR FAMILY WORSHIP. 
 
 Saviour of them that trust in Thee, 
 Once more, with suppHcating cries, 
 
 We Hft the heart and bend the knee, 
 And bid Devotion's incense rise. 
 
 For mercies past we praise Thee, Lord — 
 The frnits of Earth, the hopes of Heaven 
 
 Thy helping arm — thy guiding word. 
 
 And answered prayers, — and sins forgiven. 
 
 Whene'er we tread on Danger's height. 
 Or walk Temptation's slippery way. 
 
 Be still, to steer our steps aright. 
 
 Thy word our guide. Thine arm our stay. 
 
156 POEMS. 
 
 Be ours Thy fear and favour still, 
 United hearts — unchanging love ; 
 
 No scheme that contradicts thy will. 
 No wish that centres not above. 
 
 And since we must be parted here. 
 Support us when the hour shall come 
 
 Wipe gently off the mourner's tear, — 
 Rejoin us in our heavenly Home. 
 
POEMS. 157 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 There is an ancient Man who dwells 
 
 Without our parish bounds. 
 Beyond the poplar avenue, 
 
 Across two meadow-grounds : 
 And whensoe'er our two small bells 
 
 To church call merrily, 
 Leaning upon our church-yard gate 
 
 This old man ye may see. 
 
 He is a man of many thoughts. 
 
 That long have found their rest. 
 Each in its proper dwelling-place 
 
 Settled within his breast: 
 A form erect, a stately brow, 
 
 A set and measured mien — 
 The satisfied unroving look 
 
 Of one who much hath seen. 
 
158 POEMS. 
 
 And oncCj when young in care of souls, 
 
 I watched a sick man's bed, 
 And willing half, and half-ashamed, 
 
 Lingered, and nothing said ; 
 That ancient man^ in accents mild, 
 
 Removed my shame away — 
 '' Listen !" he said ; " the Minister 
 
 Prepares to kneel and pray." 
 
 These lines of humble thankfulness 
 
 Will never meet his eye ; 
 Unknown that old man means to live 
 
 And unremembered die. 
 The forms of life have severed us — 
 
 But when that life shall end. 
 Fain would I hail that reverend man 
 
 A Father and a Friend. 
 
POEMS. 159 
 
 XL. 
 
 *' Child, whither goest thou 
 
 Over the snowy hill ? — 
 The frost-air nips so keen 
 
 That the very clouds are still : 
 From the golden folding curtains 
 
 The Sun hath not looked forth, 
 And brown the snow-mist hangs 
 
 Round the mountains to the North. 
 
 '' Kind Stranger;, dost thou see 
 
 Yonder church-tower rise. 
 Thrusting its crown of pinnacles 
 
 Into the looming skies ? — 
 Thither go I : — keen the morning 
 
 Bites, and deep the snow; 
 But, in spite of them. 
 
 Up the frosted hill I go." 
 
l60 POEMS. 
 
 " Child, and what dost thou 
 
 When thou shalt be there? — 
 The chancel- door is shut — 
 
 There is no bell for prayer; 
 Yester morn and yester even 
 
 Met we there and prayed; 
 But now none is there 
 
 Save the dead lowly laid. 
 
 " Stranger, underneath that tower. 
 
 On the western side, 
 A happy, happy company 
 
 In holy peace abide ; 
 My father, and my mother. 
 
 And my sisters four — 
 Their beds are made in swelling turf, 
 
 Fronting the western door." 
 
 " Child, if thou speak to them 
 They will not answer thee ; 
 
 They are deep down in earth, — 
 Thy face they cannot see. 
 
POEMS. 161 
 
 Then wherefore art thou going 
 
 Over the snowy hill ? — 
 Why seek thy low-laid family 
 
 Where they lie cold and still?" 
 
 '' Stranger, when the summer heats 
 
 Would dry their turfy bed. 
 Duly from this loving hand 
 
 With water it is fed; 
 They must be cleared this morning 
 
 From the thick-laid snow — 
 So now along the frosted field. 
 
 Stranger, let me go." 
 
l62 POEMS. 
 
 XLI. 
 
 THE EPITAPPI OF BIOiN. 
 
 FROM MOSCHUS. 
 
 Dolefully sound, ye groves and Dorian waters, 
 
 Lament, ye rivers, our beloved Bion ; 
 
 Mourn, all ye plants, and whisper low, ye forests ; 
 
 Ye flowers, breathe sadly from your drooping petals ; 
 
 Put on deep red, anemones and roses; 
 
 Wail thine own letters, hyacinth, and ai ai 
 
 Write double on thy leaves for our sweet poet. 
 
 Begin the grief, begin, Sicilian Muses. 
 Ye nightingales, in the thick leafage sobbing, 
 Tell the Sicilian streams of Arethusa 
 Bion is dead, the shepherd-boy, and with him 
 Song too is dead, and all the Dorian music. 
 
THE EPITAPH OF BION. l6S 
 
 Begin the grief, begin, Sicilian Muses. 
 Strymonian swans, sing sadly by your waters ; 
 Warble a funeral elegy, in ditties 
 Such as he sung, the rival of your voices. 
 Tell the (Eagrian Nymphs, and tell the damsels 
 That play in Thrace, Dead is the Dorian Orpheus. 
 
 Begin the grief, begin, Sicilian Muses. 
 Our friend shall pipe beside his flocks no longer. 
 Nor sit and sing alone beneath the ilex; 
 But tunes oblivious strains to sullen Pluto. 
 Mute are the mountains, 9,nd the herd is straying 
 And will not feed, but wanders sadly lowing. 
 
 Begin the grief, begin, Sicilian Muses. 
 Thine early death lamented great Apollo, 
 Pan wept to miss thy singing, all the Naiads 
 Wept in their woods, and turned to tears their fountains; 
 Echo is weeping that she must be silent 
 Thy lips no longer mocking. At thy parting 
 Trees shed their fruit, and all the flowers were blighted ; 
 Milk failed the flocks, and in our hives the honey 
 Sunk mouldering in the wax; for no more sweetness 
 Shall there be, now thy honey-song hath perished. 
 
164 
 
 POEMS. 
 
 Begin the grief, begin, Sicilian Muses. 
 Not so beside the sea-beach wailed the dolphin. 
 Nor nightingale in shrubby rocks embowered. 
 Nor on the long green hills the piping swallow ; 
 Not so for his Alcyone wept Ceyx; 
 Nor Cerylus along the dark-blue waters; 
 Not so in Eastern dells the birds of Memnon 
 Wailed, flying round his tomb, the son of Ac, 
 As all lamented for the death of Bion. 
 
 Begin the grief, begin, Sicilian Muses. 
 Shepherd, with thee the Muses' gifts have perished- 
 All beauty, and the joy of youthful lovers — 
 Sadly the Loves around thy tomb are weeping: 
 Cypris hath loved thee better than the memory 
 Of the last kiss she prest on pale Adonis. 
 
 Begin the grief, begin, Sicilian Muses. 
 Thou tunefullest of streams, a second sorrow, 
 A second sorrow, Meles, hath befallen ; 
 Thy Homer died, sweet prophet of the Muses ; 
 And then, they say, thy glorious son thou wailest 
 Along thy shallows, and far into ocean 
 Carriedst the sound of grief: and now another 
 
THE EPITAPH OF BION. l65 
 
 Must thou lament, and dry away for anguish. 
 
 Both were beloved by fountains : one was favoured 
 
 Of HippocrenCj, and one of Arethusa; 
 
 One sung the lay of Tyndarus' fair daughter. 
 
 The son of Thetis, and the twin Atreidae; 
 
 But ours no wars, nor tears — the god of shepherds 
 
 And herdsmen sung he, as his flock he tended. 
 
 And bound the syrinx, and milked the sweet-breathed 
 
 heifers. 
 And spake of Love, and w as dear to Aphrodita. 
 
 Begin the grief, begin, Sicilian Muses. 
 All countries mourn for thee, all ancient cities : 
 Not so mourned Ascra for her Shepherd-prophet ; 
 Not so the castled Lesbos for Alcaeus ; 
 Nor Ceos her old songster; not so Paros 
 Archilochus desires; and leaving Sappho 
 Thy legend sings the Avidowed Mitylene. 
 
 Begin the grief, begin, Sicilian Muses. 
 Alas ! when mallows perish in the gardens. 
 The crisp-green parsley, and the hardy anise. 
 They live again, and grow another summer ; 
 
l66 POEMS. 
 
 But we^ the great and strong, the sons of wisdom, 
 When first we die, unknown in earthy hollow 
 Sleep a long boundless sleep, that hath no waking. 
 Thou shalt be gathered to the dust in silence, 
 But sorry songsters live and sing for ever: 
 Well have the Muses ordered it, for better 
 Sing sweet and die, than be like them immortal. 
 
 Begin the grief, begin, Sicilian Muses. 
 Poison hath touched thy mouth, a draught of poison ; 
 How came it to thy lips and was not sweetened .'* 
 What man so cruel that for thee could mingle. 
 Or offering it escaped uncharmed thy singing,'* 
 
 Begin the grief, begin Sicilian Muses. 
 Who now shall sound thy reed, beloved poet.^ 
 Who is so bold that to his lips will bear it ? 
 To Pan I offer it ; but Pan refuses 
 To wake its melody, lest he in playing 
 Should miss thy skill, and be adjudged thy second. 
 
POEMS. 167 
 
 XLII. 
 
 I HAD the sweetest dream but yesternight 
 
 About the lady of my love: 
 I saw her sitting in a faint green light 
 
 With twisted boughs above. 
 
 Her russet hair flowed moistly down her neck 
 Parting each tender blooming cheek ; 
 
 And beautiful young roses seemed to deck 
 Her bosom chaste and meek. 
 
 Some deeply-working thought with strong control 
 Cast down those eyes I longed to see; 
 
 And I could tell that all her virgin soul 
 Was faint for love of me. 
 
168 POEMS. 
 
 No barrier thwarts the creatures of the mind 
 I crept and sat me down by her; 
 
 And put^ as I was wont, my arm behind 
 Her neck, within her hair. 
 
 I saw the sweetest gleam of heavenly light 
 Look from her moist uplifted eyes; 
 
 The deepest blush of unforewarned delight 
 Up to her warm cheeks rise. 
 
 But all in one sad moment utterly 
 
 Gone was the charm that wrought for us : 
 
 The vision faded from my sight, and I 
 Awoke to tell it thus. 
 
POEMS. 169 
 
 XLIII. 
 
 THE MALVERN HILLS; 
 March 12, 1835. 
 
 Erewhile I saw ye faintly through far haze 
 Spread many miles above the fields of sea: 
 Now ye rise glorious^ and my steps are free 
 To wander through your valleys' beaten ways. 
 And climb above, threading the rocky maze ; 
 And trace this stream, alive with shifting light. 
 With whose successive eddies silver-bright 
 Not without pleasant sound the moonbeam plays. 
 My dear dear Bride — two days had made thee mine. 
 Two days of waxing hope and waning fear, 
 When under the night-planet's lavish shine 
 We stood in joy, and blessed that rillet clear; 
 Such joy unwarning comes and quickly parts. 
 But lives deep-rooted in our ^ heart of hearts.' 
 
 END OF VOLUME I. 
 VOL. I. H 
 
THE 
 
 SCHOOL OF THE HEART. 
 
THE 
 
 SCHOOL OF THE HEART 
 
 AND OTHER POEMS. 
 
 HENRY ALFORD, 
 
 M 
 
 VICAR OF WIMESWOULD, LEICESTERSHIRE, 
 AND LATE FELLOW OF TRINITY COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE. 
 
 IN TWO VOLUME.^. 
 
 Munus ecce fictile 
 Inimus intra regiam salutis; 
 
 Attamen vel infimam 
 Deo obsequelam praestitisse prodest. 
 
 Quidquid illud accidet, 
 Juvabit ore personasse Christum. 
 
 PRUDENTU'S. 
 
 VOLUME II. 
 
 CONTAINING 
 
 THE SCHOOL OF THE HEART. 
 
 CAMBRIDGE : 
 
 PRINTED AT THE PITT PRESS, BY JOHN SMITH, 
 PRINTER TO THE UNIVERSITY : 
 
 FOR LONGMAN & CO., PATERNOSTER ROW, LONDON; 
 AND J. & J. J. DEIGHTON, CAMBRIDGE. 
 
 M.DCCC.XXXV. 
 
Not war, nor hurrying troops from plain to plain, 
 Nor deed of high resolve, nor stern command 
 Sing I ; the brow that carries trace of pain 
 Long and enough the sons of song have scanned : 
 Nor lady's love in honeysuckle bower 
 With helmet hanging by, in stolen ease : 
 Poets enough I deemed of heavenly power 
 Ere now had lavished upon themes like these. 
 My harp and I have sought a holier meed : 
 The fragments of God's image to restore, 
 The earnest longings of the soul to feed. 
 And balm into the Spirit's wounds to pour. 
 One gentle voice hath bid our task God-speed : 
 And now we search the world to hear of more. 
 
THE 
 
 SCHOOL OF THE HEART. 
 
 LESSON I. 
 
 VOL. 
 
WHETHER IT BE LOVE, OR IT BE SCIENCE THAT WE HANDLE, 
 '• OR WHATEVER ART PURSUE INTO ITS MORE SECRET PLACES 
 " AND HIGHER FORMS, WE MUST CONFESS THAT WE SHALL 
 " HAVE FOUND AT LENGTH SOMETHING (AND THAT WHEREON 
 " ALL DOTH DEPEND) WHICH NEITHER IS. NOR BELONGS TO 
 " OURSELVES." 
 
LESSON THE FIRST. 
 
 The Spring is coming round — ^the buds have burst. 
 
 And on the coppice path, and in the bower 
 
 The leaping spray of sunlight leaf-inwrought 
 
 Sports to the gentle bidding of the breeze : 
 
 And far away into the inner grove 
 
 Bright green the mosses cluster on the stems, 
 
 Till where the thickest arbour doth embower 
 
 Sweet solitary flowers of meekest eye 
 
 That dwell for ever with the silent dews. 
 
 Sweet partner of my hopes, who through the young 
 And sunny years of life, hast been to me 
 An opening bud most delicately nursed, 
 Methinks this day hath risen upon us two 
 
 A 2 
 
4 SCHOOL OF THE HEART. 
 
 As on the joyous earth, and teemmg wood — 
 To summon into life the folded flowers. 
 And bid our plant of love spring boldly up. 
 Fearing no check from frost or blighting dew. 
 
 No one is present with us ; none is here 
 But thou and I ; so I may tell my thoughts 
 Now thou hast picked thy apron full of flowers, 
 For I have much to tell. 
 
 Along the East 
 The clear pale light of the morn is brooding still 
 And down our favourite path, on either side, 
 The little leaves are glittering in the sun ; 
 So we will talk away the morning tide 
 Under the soft bright April. Let us sit 
 Together on that slope, where cluster thick 
 The full-blown primroses, and playfully 
 The tender-drooping wood-anemones 
 Toss to the breeze in turn their silver bells. 
 
 'Tis long since we were free to while away 
 So many hours in converse: and I feel 
 
LESSON I. 
 
 Strange yearnings to pour out my inner soul. 
 To open forth unto thee all the stores 
 Whereby my spirit hath been furnished 
 For the great war with evil. 
 
 Few have lived 
 As we have lived, unsevered; our young life 
 Was but a summer's frolic: we have been 
 Like two babes passing hand in hand along 
 A sunny bank on flowers. The busy world 
 Goes on around us, and its multitudes 
 Pass by me, and I look them in the face. 
 But cannot read such meaning, as I read 
 In this of thine ; — and thou too dost but move 
 Among them for a season, but returnest 
 With a light step and smiles, to our old seats^ 
 Our quiet walks, our solitary bower. 
 Some we love well; the early presences 
 That were first round us, and the silvery tones 
 Of those most far away, and dreamy voices 
 That sounded all about us at the dawn 
 Of our young life — these, as the world of things 
 Sets in upon our being like a tide, 
 
6 SCHOOL OF THE HEART. 
 
 Keep with us, and are ever uppermost. 
 
 And some there are, tall, beautiful, and wise. 
 
 Whose step is heavenward, and whose souls have past 
 
 Out from the nether darkness, and been born 
 
 Into a new and glorious universe. 
 
 Who speak of things to come ; — but there is that 
 
 In thy soft eye and long-accustomed voice 
 
 Would win me from them all. 
 
 For since our birth 
 Our thoughts have grown together in one mould: — 
 All through the seasons of our infancy 
 The same hills rose about us — the same trees. 
 Now bare, now sprinkled with the tender leaf. 
 Now thick with full dark foliage — the same church. 
 Our own dear village church, has seen us pray. 
 In the same seat, with hands clasped side by side, — 
 And we have sung together; and have walked 
 Full of one thought, along the homeward lane ; 
 And so were we built upwards for the trial 
 That on my walls hath fallen unsparingly. 
 Shattering their frail foundations ; and which thou 
 Hast yet to look for, — but hast found the help 
 Which then I knew not — rest thee firmly there! 
 
LESSON I. 
 
 When first I issued forth into the world, 
 Oh I remember well — that very morn 
 When we rose long before the accustomed hour 
 By the faint taper-light; — and by that gate 
 We just now swung behind us carelessly, 
 I gave thee the last kiss : — I travelled on. 
 Giving my mind up to the world without. 
 Which poured in strange ideas of strange things. 
 New towns, new churches, new inhabitants :— 
 And ever and anon some happy child 
 Beneath a rose-trailed porch played as I past : 
 And then the thought of thee swept through my soul. 
 And made the hot drops stand in either eye. 
 And so I travelled — till between two hills. 
 Two turf-enamelled mounds of brightest green. 
 Stretched the blue limit of the distant sea. 
 Unknown to me before : — then with strange joy. 
 Forgetting all, I gazed upon that sea. 
 Till I could see the white waves leaping up. 
 And all my heart leapt with them : — so I past 
 Southward — and neared that wilderness of waves. 
 And stopt upon its brink ; and when the even 
 Spread out upon the sky unusual clouds. 
 
8 SCHOOL OF THE HEART. 
 
 I sat me down upon a wooded clifF 
 
 Watching the earth's last daylight fade away. 
 
 Till that the dim wave far beneath my feet 
 
 Did make low moanings to the infant moon. 
 
 And the lights twinkled out along the shore ; — 
 
 Then I looked upwards — and I saw the stars, 
 
 Sirius, Orion, and the Northern wain. 
 
 And the seven Sisters, and the beacon-flame 
 
 Of bright Arcturus — every one the same 
 
 As when I shewed them thee. — '''But yesternight, 
 
 I said, " she gazed with me upon those stars ; — 
 
 Why did we not agree to look on them 
 
 Both at one moment every starlight night. 
 
 And think that the same star beheld us both .J^" 
 
 But I shall weary thee — that very night. 
 As I past shore wards under the dark hills, 
 I made a vow that I would live on love. 
 Even the love of thee; — this all my faith. 
 My only creed, my only refuge this. 
 So day past after day : and every one 
 Gave me a fainter image of thy face. 
 Till thou wert vanished quite: nor could I then. 
 
LESSON I. 
 
 No not with painful strain of memory, 
 
 Bring back one glimpse of thy lost countenance. 
 
 Then I would sit and try to hear thy voice, — 
 
 And catch and lose its tones successively; 
 
 Till that too left me; till the very words 
 
 Which thou hadst written had no trace of thee,- — 
 
 JBut it was pain to see them. So my soul 
 
 Self-bound and self-tormented, lingered on, 
 
 Evermore vainly striving after love, 
 
 Which evermore fled from her — till at last 
 
 She ceased to strive, and sunk, a lifeless lump. 
 
 No sense, no vigour, dead to all around. 
 
 But most to thee — meanwhile the golden hours 
 
 Of life flowed on apace — but weary seemed 
 
 The universe of toil — weary the day — 
 
 I had no joy but sleep, rare visitant 
 
 Of my lone couch. 
 
 What times of purest joy 
 Were then my brief returns — what greetings then. 
 What wanderings had we on our native slopes; 
 What pleasant mockings of the tearful past. — 
 
 A5 
 
10 SCHOOL OP THE HEART. 
 
 And I remember well, one summer's night, 
 
 A clear soft silver moonlight, thou and I 
 
 Sat a full hour together silently. 
 
 Looking abroad into the pure pale heaven. — 
 
 Perchance thou hast forgotten : but my arm 
 
 Was on thy shoulder, and thy clustering locks 
 
 Hung lightly on my hand, and thy dear eye 
 
 Glistered beside my forehead: — and at length 
 
 Thou saidst, " 'Tis time we went to rest ;" and then 
 
 We rose and parted for the night: no words 
 
 But those were spoken, and we never since 
 
 Have told each other of that moment. Oft 
 
 Has it come o'er me, — and I oft have thought 
 
 Of sharing it with thee : but my resolve 
 
 Has been spread over with a thousand things 
 
 Of various import — till this April morn — 
 
 And we have shared it now. 
 
 But soon again 
 I left my home ; — there was no beauty now 
 Of lands new seen — but the same dreary road 
 Which bore me from thee first — I had no joy 
 In looking on the ocean — and full sad. 
 
J.ESSON 1. 11 
 
 With inward frettings and unrest, I reached 
 That steep-built village on the Southern shore. 
 
 Sometimes I wandered down the wooded dells 
 That sloped into the sea; — and sat me down 
 On piles of rocks, in a most private place, 
 Not without melody of ancient stream 
 Down-dripping from steep sides of brightest moss. 
 And tumbling onwards through the dark ravine ; 
 While the lithe branches of the wizard elm 
 Dangled athwart the deep blue crystalline. — 
 Often the memory comes o'er me now 
 Like life upon a long entranced corpse ; — 
 I knew not then aught of that inner soul 
 That giveth life to Beauty — knew not then 
 How moments -of most painful vacancy 
 In Beauty's presence, print their footmarks deep 
 On the soul's pathways, and how glory and light 
 Shine from them at a distance ; — how we gather 
 Our treasures in the shade, and know them not 
 Till they steal lustre from the living sun. 
 Flattering the new-born vision of our souls 
 With richest stores of unprovided joy. 
 
12 SCHOOL OF THE HEART. 
 
 Sometimes I sat and strove to gather hope 
 Out of the blank cold future: but the years 
 Of onward life grew darker as I looked; — 
 I saw sad shapes mustered along the path 
 Beckoning with silent finger : and young hopes 
 That bloomed most delicately^ stretched clay-cold 
 And ghastly pale upon the earth : and then 
 Hot tears burst from me: and my sinful soul 
 Wept herself dry in utter solitude. 
 
 Tears may not wash away the spirit's stain : 
 The soul that sitteth down in dreariness 
 Telling her sorrow to herself alone 
 Is not the purest; for the very sting 
 Of the heart's bitterness hath power to spread 
 Most pestilent corruption; and its wound 
 Festereth within untended. Sin is a fire 
 Self-hated, self-tormenting; a wild pest 
 Of rabid flame, that roareth to be quenched. 
 And may not but in blood. Sin will have blood 
 And if it find it not^, will wrench abroad 
 The very heart that holds it, and will dip 
 Its hissing fangs deep in the purple stream. 
 
LESSON I. 13 
 
 Tainting the very issues of all life 
 
 With foul black drops of death; and not so quenched 
 
 Feed on the young supplies of vital joy. 
 
 Scorching the inner fountains of the soul. 
 
 But, like the sunrise on the dark wild sea. 
 There rose upon my spirit a great light: — 
 I was like one fast fettered in a cave 
 Before whose dull and night-accustomed eyes 
 Some naphtha-fire up-flaring from behind 
 Marshalls strange shadows on the rifted vault;* 
 Till there came by one of mild countenance 
 And beautiful apparel, at whose touch 
 My chains fell round me, and I followed on 
 Up rugged steeps into the outer day : 
 But so sight-blasting was that lurid night. 
 That the clear light was all too pure for me. 
 The gentle moon too beautiful : but soon 
 I shall look forth undazzled ; and ere long 
 With purified and unbeclouded sight 
 Gaze the broad sunshine in his place on high. 
 
 * Plato Repub. Book vii. §. 1. 
 
14 SCHOOL OF THE HEART. 
 
 — ' She hath loved much, and therefore is forgiven :' 
 Then Love is first; and in the sleep of sin 
 Come sudden startings of brief consciousness, 
 And breaks in the dull slumber, as from sounds 
 Of sweetest music, that give instant joy. 
 But mix the after-dreams with strange regret. 
 As one who wandering in the summer night 
 Is ware of sudden light, and looking up 
 Betwixt Orion and the Pleiades 
 Sees pass along a trail of white star-fire 
 That fades upon the night and leaves no trace; 
 One moment he rejoices, but the next 
 His soul is sad, because he is alone: — 
 
 Or (for we love to chase similitude 
 Into its close recesses, when we speak 
 Of things but shadowed forth and half-defined) 
 Like one w^ho hath seen play across his path 
 A glimmer of faint lightning, — and stands still 
 Breathlessly waiting, till the deep long moan 
 Of far-off thunder from a low-hung cloud 
 Hath died into the air: then sets he forth 
 By slopes of bright green larch, and hedgerows sweet 
 
LESSON I. 15 
 
 With thickest roses, to the cottaged knoll 
 Where gleams against the blackness pinnacled 
 From out its elms his light tall village tower. 
 
 What can be purer than a soul forgiven ? 
 He who hath never fallen, may err perchance 
 In the admission of a vague desire : 
 But when the spirit hath come out from thrall 
 Into the upper air of Liberty, 
 She hath no backward longings, but looks on 
 Up the steep pathways of unfolding light. 
 Knowest thou not that it is sweetest far 
 After the languid pulse and sunken eye 
 To go abroad beneath the sunny heaven. 
 Freely to breathe, and feel through all the frame 
 The indifferenqe of justly-balanced health ? 
 
 It may be that all evil teems with good; — 
 It may be that the sorrows of this state 
 Are but the birth-pangs of a glorious life, — 
 And all the hindrances of mortal flesh 
 A grosser matter that shall polish off. 
 Brightening the silver which it erst obscured. 
 
l6 SCHOOL OF THE HEART. 
 
 But stay we here — for we may search no more : 
 The heart is deeper than the power of words : 
 And language many- voiced doth not suffice 
 For all the combinations of pure thought ; — 
 Even in the reasonings of the over-wise 
 Speech hath a limit which she may not pass; 
 Then how much rather, when we talk of Love. 
 
 I have been somewhat cruel to thy flowers; 
 For I have cheated them of a few days 
 Of modest pride — they might have lived perchance 
 Hung round our shady arbour, duly fed 
 From the evening water-pot; — or for quaint shew 
 Stuck deftly among leaves that knew them not, 
 Puzzled the after-thoughts of passers-by. 
 Their bloom is shed; but I have fetched for thee 
 Flowers blooming in the inner grove of thought, 
 Sweet nurslings of a never-fading spring ; 
 The sunshine trophies of a victory 
 Fought for in frosts and darkness, and achieved 
 Only by light from heaven to see my foes. 
 
THE 
 
 SCHOOL OF THE HEART. 
 
 LESSON II. 
 
•' AND IN THE TEMPLE-SERVICE OF OUR SOULS, IT DOES NOT 
 " BECOME US, BECAUSE WE HAVE SOMETIMES SEEN THE CLOUD 
 " FILL THE HOUSE OF THE LORD, AND ALL OUR MINISTERING 
 " HAS BEEN LOST IN THE GLORY, NOT TO TAKE OUR DAILY 
 " BLESSEDNESS OUT OF HIS MILD AND USUAL PRESENCE, OR 
 " TO THINK THAT WE MAY PRESCRIBE TO HIM HIS OCCASIONS 
 " OF BRIGHTER MANIFESTATION." 
 
LESSON THE SECOND. 
 
 My sweet companion, who hast ever been 
 
 Beside me in all toils, refreshing oft 
 
 My weary spirit with low whisperings 
 
 Of hope that spoke not falsely ; in whose sight 
 
 My young life floweth pleasantly along; 
 
 Sit thou beside me once again, and take 
 
 Thy magic pencils— they will serve thee well 
 
 To help thy patience : for my heart is full. 
 
 And I perchance may wander way wardly ; — 
 
 Besides, this bank is known to us of old — 
 
 For yonder is the ivy-girded trunk. 
 
 Bright mouldering timber clothed with darkest green 
 
 And yonder those two ashes on the steep 
 
 And grassy slope, — and underneath the moor 
 
 Stretches its pastured level far away. 
 
20 SCHOOL OF THE HEART. 
 
 To the grey mountains and the Severn sea: 
 
 And from that very brake, the nightingale 
 
 In the sweet silence of the summer eve 
 
 Poured forth a wavy stream of melody. 
 
 Signal to one who waited with thick breath 
 
 And throbbing bosom, all afraid to speak 
 
 One low-breathed word — that evening thou wert mine. 
 
 Sit thou beside me — we will talk no more 
 Of dim and cloudy childhood, ere the spring 
 Burst on us, when with searchings wearisome 
 We sought some center for our errant hopes; 
 But underneath this sky of clearest June 
 We will discourse, as we are wont, o+" things 
 Most gentle, of most gentle causes sprung, 
 That make no wave upon the stream of Life, 
 That are not written in the Memory's book. 
 That come not with observance; but from which 
 As from a myriad stones, costly though small. 
 Is built the mansion of the blessed soul. 
 
 Look out upon the earth, or meditate 
 Upon the varying glories of the sky ; 
 
LESSON II. 21 
 
 As we have looked on them from windy hills, 
 
 Or from the moonlight window ; fullest joy 
 
 Flows on thy heart, and silent thankfulness 
 
 Drowns all thy struggling thoughts; doth not this bliss 
 
 Wax ever deeper with the years of life? 
 
 And when past pleasures come upon the soul 
 
 Like long forgotten landscapes of our youth, 
 
 Are not these spots clad with peculiar light. 
 
 The brightest blossoms in the Paradise 
 
 Of recollections of a soul forgiven ? tij 
 
 There is no joy that is not built on peace; 
 
 Peace is our birthright, and our legacy 
 
 Signed with a hand that never promised false. 
 
 And we have fed on peace; and the green earth. 
 
 With all that therein is, — the mighty sea. 
 
 The breath of the spring winds, and all the host 
 
 Of clustered stars, give fittest nourishment 
 
 To the peace-loving soul. 
 
 ' Not as the world 
 Giveth, give I to you ;' for what have souls 
 Whose vision labours with the film of sin. 
 Who struggle in the twilight of eclipse. 
 
22 SCHOOL OF THE HEART. 
 
 To do with beauty and the joy of thought? 
 
 Our very joys have been redeemed with blood; 
 
 Our very liberty is bought anew : 
 
 The unforgiven pleasures of the world 
 
 Are but a dance in chains ; freedom of thought 
 
 Owes fealty to sin; and Fancy's self, 
 
 That airiest and most unfettered thing, 
 
 Is but the prisoned maniac's dream of bliss. 
 
 Oft have I listened to a voice that spake 
 Of cold and dull realities of life. 
 Deem we not thus of life : for we may fetch 
 Light from a hidden glory, which shall clothe 
 The meanest thing that is with hues of heaven. 
 If thence we draw not glory, all our light 
 Is but a taper in a chambered cave. 
 That giveth presence to new gulphs of dark. 
 Our light should be the broad and open day; 
 And as we love its shining, we shall look 
 Still on the bright and daylight face of things. 
 
 Is it for nothing that the mighty sun 
 Rises each morning from the Eastern plain 
 
LESSON II. 23 
 
 Over the meadows fresh with hoary dew? 
 
 Is it for nothing that the shadowy trees 
 
 On yonder hill-top, in the summer night 
 
 Stand darkly out before the golden moon? 
 
 Is it for nothing that the autumn boughs 
 
 Hang thick with mellow fruit, what time the swain 
 
 Presses the luscious juice, and joyful shouts 
 
 Rise in the purple twilight, gladdening him 
 
 Who laboured late, and homeward wends his way 
 
 Over the ridgy grounds, and through the mead. 
 
 Where the mist broods along the fringed stream ? 
 
 Far in the Western sea dim islands float. 
 
 And lines of mountain coast receive the sun 
 
 As he sinks downward to his resting-place. 
 
 Ministered to by bright and crimson clouds — 
 
 Is it for nothing that some artist hand 
 
 Hath wrought together things so beautiful? 
 
 Noon follows morn, the quiet breezeless noon : 
 
 And pleasant even, season of sweet sounds 
 
 And peaceful sights — and then the wondrous bird 
 
 That warbles like an angel, full of love. 
 
 From copse and hedgerow side pouring abroad 
 
 Her tide of song into the listening night. 
 
24 SCHOOL OF THE HEART. 
 
 Beautiful is the last gleam of the sun 
 
 Slanted through twining branches : beautiful 
 
 The birth of the faint stars — first clear and pale 
 
 The steady-lustred Hesper^, like a gem 
 
 On the flushed bosom of the West ; and then 
 
 Some princely fountain of unborrowed light, 
 
 Arcturus, or the Dogstar, or the seven 
 
 That circle without setting round the pole. 
 
 Is it for nothing, at the midnight hour. 
 
 That solemn silence sways the hemisphere. 
 
 And ye must listen long before ye hear 
 
 The cry of beasts, or fall of distant stream. 
 
 Or breeze among the tree-tops — while the stars 
 
 Like guardian spirits watch the slumbering earth ? 
 
 Can human energies be scattered all 
 In a long life — a slumber deep and chill 
 Settle upon the soul — a palsy bind 
 The spiritual limbs — and all the strings 
 Of that sweet instrument, the mind of man. 
 Remain untuned, untouched ? — What if in dreams 
 The struggling fancy from her prison break 
 And wander undirected, gathering up 
 
LESSON II. 25 
 
 Unnatural combinations of strange things, 
 Of sights, it may be, beautiful and wild, — 
 Long gleaming reaches of some slow-paced stream. 
 And boats of gold and pearl, with coral masts, 
 Floating unguided in a faint green light 
 Of twisted boughs, and heavy-plumaged birds 
 Of many colours, roosting all the night 
 On rambling branches of a giant wood — 
 And what if voices in the middle night 
 Full on thine ear in chimy murmurs rush, 
 That warble of deep skies and silver sheen, — 
 And bright eyes twinkle, far away but clear. 
 Receding as they twinkle, and with charm 
 Unknown the ravished spirit drawing on — 
 These are not wholesome nurture for the soul. 
 Nor sounds and sights like these the daily bread 
 It asks from heaven : — these are the errant paths 
 Of those great flaming brushes in the sky, 
 Now dangerously near the maddening fire. 
 Now chill and darkling in the gulfs of space, 
 Unlike the steady moderated course 
 Of habitable worlds. 
 
 VOL. II. B 
 
26 
 
 THE SCHOOL OF THE HEART. 
 
 There lie around 
 Th}' daily walk great store of beauteous things, 
 Each in its separate place most fair, and all 
 Of many parts disposed most skilfully, 
 Making in combination wonderful 
 An individual of a higher kind ; 
 And that again in order ranging well 
 With its own fellows, till thou rise at length 
 Up to the majesty of this grand world ; — 
 Hard task and seldom reached by mortal souls. 
 For frequent intermission, and neglect 
 Of close communion with the humblest things ; 
 But in rare moments, whether Memory 
 Hold compact with Invention, or the door 
 Of Heaven hath been a little pushed aside, 
 Methinks I can remember, after hours 
 Of unpremeditated thought in woods 
 On Western steeps, that hung a pervious screen 
 Before blue mountains and the distant sea, 
 A sense of a clear brightness in my soul, 
 A dayspring of mild radiance, like the light 
 First-born of the great Fiat, that ministered 
 Unto the earth before the sun was made. 
 
LESSON II. 27 
 
 Evening and morning — those two ancient names 
 So linked with childish wonder, when with arm 
 Fast wound about the neck of one we loved, 
 Oft questioning, we heard Creation's tale — 
 Evening and morning ever brought to me 
 Strange joy; the birth and funeral of light, 
 Whether in clear unclouded majesty 
 The large Sun poured his effluence abroad. 
 Or the grey clouds rolled silently along. 
 Dropping their doubtful tokens as they passed; 
 Whether above the hills intensely glowed 
 Bright lines of parting glory in the West, 
 Or from the veil of faintly-reddened mist 
 The darkness slow descended on the earth ; 
 The passing to a state of things all new — 
 New fears and new enjoyments — this was all 
 Food for my seeking spirit: I would stand 
 Upon the jutting hills that overlook 
 Our level moor, and watch the daylight fade 
 Along the prospect: now behind the leaves 
 The golden twinkles of the westering sun 
 Deepened to richest crimson: now from out 
 The solemn beech-grove, through the natural aisles 
 
 B 2 
 
28 THE SCHOOL OF THE HEART. 
 
 Of pillared trunks, the glory in the West 
 Shewed like the brightly burning Shechinah 
 Seen in old times above the Mercy-seat 
 Between the folded wings of Cherubim ; — 
 I loved to wander with the Evening star 
 Heading my way, till from the palest speck 
 Of virgin silver, evermore lit up 
 With radiance as by spirits ministered. 
 She seemed a living pool of golden light: — 
 I loved to leai'n the strange array of shapes 
 That pass along the circle of the year ; — 
 Some, for the love of ancient lore, I kept ; 
 And they would call into my fancy's eye 
 Chaldaean beacons, over the drear sand 
 Seen faintly from thick-towered Babylon 
 Against the sunset — shepherds in the field 
 Watching their flocks by night — or shapes of men 
 And high-necked camels, passing leisurely 
 Along the starred horizon, where the spice 
 Swims in the air, in Araby the Blest; — 
 And some, as Fancy led, I figured forth, 
 Misliking their old names — one circlet bright 
 Gladdens me often, near the Northern Wain, 
 
! LESSON II. '2g 
 
 Which, with a childish playfulness of choice 
 That hath not past away, I loved to call 
 The crown of glory, by the righteous Judge 
 Against the day of His appearing, laid 
 In store for him who fought the fight of faith. 
 
 I ever loved the Ocean, as 't had been 
 My childhood's playfellow. In sooth it was; 
 For I had built me forts upon its sands, 
 And launched my little navies in the creeks. 
 Careless of certain loss; so it would play 
 Even as it listed with them, I were pleased. 
 I loved to follow with the backward tide 
 Over rough rocks and quaintly delving pools, 
 Till that the land-cliffs lessened, and I trod 
 With cautious step on slippery crags and moist, 
 With sea- weed clothed, like the green hair of Nymphs, 
 The Nereids' votive hair, that on the rocks 
 They hang when storms are past, to the kind Power 
 That saved their sparry grottoes. 
 
 And at night 
 I wandered often, when the winds were up, 
 
30 THE SCHOOL OF THE HEART. 
 
 Over the pathless hills, till I could hear. 
 
 Borne fitfully upon the hurrying blast. 
 
 The curfew bell with lingering strokes and deep 
 
 From underlying town; — then all was still 
 
 But the low murmuring of the distant sea; 
 
 And then again the new-awakened wind 
 
 Howled in the dells^ and through the bended heath 
 
 Swept whistling by my firmly planted feet. ^ 
 
 Eternal rocks — that lift your heads on high 
 Grey with the tracks of ages that have past 
 Over your serried brows, with many a scar 
 Of thunderstroke deep-riven — from out whose clefts 
 The gnarled oak, and yew, and tender ash. 
 Poured forth like waters, trail adown the steep — 
 Ye stand to figure to our human view 
 The calm and never-altering character 
 Of great Eternity — like some vast pier 
 Fixed, while the fleeting tide of mortal things 
 Flows onward from its sight. The mighty men 
 Of ages gone have past beneath your crest 
 And cast an upward look, and ye have grown 
 Into their being, and been created part 
 
LESSON ir. 3i 
 
 Of the great Mind, and of your influence some 
 
 Hath past into the thoughts that live and burn 
 
 Through all the ages of the peopled world. 
 
 Your presence hath been fruitful to my soul 
 
 Of mighty lessons ; whether inland far 
 
 Ye lift your jutting brows from grassy hills. 
 
 Or on the but of some great promontory 
 
 Keep guard against the sleepless siege of waves. 
 
 Once I remember when most visible light 
 
 Shone from you on my spirit — 'twas an eve 
 
 In fall of summer, when the weaker births 
 
 Of ths great forest change their robes of green ; — 
 
 On such an eve, I climbed into a nook 
 
 Bowered with leaves and canopied with crags 
 
 On the loved border of the Western shore. 
 
 Over the topmost cliff the horned moon 
 
 Not eight days" old, shone mildly ; under foot 
 
 The mighty ocean rolled its multitude 
 
 Of onward-crowding ridges, that with crash 
 
 Of thunder broke upon the jutting rocks ; 
 
 And in the Northern sky, where not an hour 
 
 The day had sunk, a pomp of tempest-clouds 
 
 Passed wildly onward over the calm lines 
 
.12 THE SCHOOL OF THE HEART. 
 
 Of the hue of faded sunset. Wearily 
 
 Sighed the thick oaks upon the sea-ward steep. 
 
 And the melancholy sea-bird wailed aloft, 
 
 Now poised in the mid-air, now with swift sweep 
 
 Descending, and again on balanced wings 
 
 Hovering, or wheeling dismally about 
 
 With short importunate cry. 
 
 But ye the chief, 
 Trees, that along our pleasant native slope 
 Pendant with clustering foliage, in the light 
 Of parting evening sleep most peacefully. 
 Gathering to the eye your separate heads 
 Into a dark and misty mass of green — 
 Ye can bear witness how with constant care 
 I mourned your tribute to the Autumn winds. 
 And hailed with you the sweet return of spring. 
 And watched with fondest care the tender green ;- 
 Ye sleep the winter through — and burst abroad 
 In the morning of the year — and sweetest songs 
 Sound through your arbours all the happy May, 
 Till callow broods take wing, and Summer's sun 
 Darkens the tender green upon the leaf; 
 
LESSON n. SS 
 
 And then ye stand majestic, glorying 
 
 In strength of knotted trunk and branches vast. 
 
 Daring the noonday heat, that withers up 
 
 The orchis-flower and foxglove at your feet, 
 
 Save where your mighty shadows gloomily 
 
 Recline upon the underlying sward. 
 
 I looked upon you when the April moon 
 
 Sprinkled your forms with light, and the dewball lay 
 
 All night upon the branch — listening each year 
 
 When the first breeze might stir your boughs new-clothed. 
 
 Or when the rain all through the summer day 
 
 Fell steadily upon the leaves, mine ear 
 
 Soothing with the faint music's even chime. 
 
 These, and a thousand things that men pass by. 
 Served for my spiritual nourishment: 
 Nor wanted high example, to my heart 
 Laid often, and in secret cherished up 
 With oft recurring sweet encouragement; 
 Nor words of import deep, that fall on us 
 In solemn places, when we note them not; 
 But most one sacred thought, linked in my breast 
 To a thousand memories that can never die — 
 
34) THE SCHOOL OF THE HEART. 
 
 Sounding upon me in the hallowed hour 
 
 Of Sabbath-service from the wondrous book ; — 
 
 It was that He^, the only Son of Heaven 
 
 That took his joys and woes from things below. 
 
 When he would pour his holy soul in prayer 
 
 Went forth beneath the moonlight — through the lines 
 
 Of trembling olive-leaves, to where the path 
 
 Came sudden out upon the open hill; — 
 
 There he stood waiting till the flame from heaven 
 
 Lighted upon the inward sacrifice 
 
 Of thoughts most pure — and then the holy words 
 
 Came musically forth upon the night. 
 
 More sweet than tinkling Kedron, or the pipe 
 
 Of distant nightingale : — or on the cliff 
 
 Above the tossing lake he prayed and stood. 
 
 And through the flight of jarring elements 
 
 Came unimpeded swiftly gliding down 
 
 From the Father's hand a healing drop of peace 
 
 Upon his wounded soul. On mountain heights 
 
 All the mid-hours of night, with serried crags 
 
 Towering in the moonlight overhead. 
 
 And through a channelled dell stretching away 
 
 The plains of Galilee seen from afar. 
 
Lesson n. 35 
 
 Till morn alone he prayed — whether the cup 
 
 Of self-determined suffering passed athwart 
 
 His forward vision^ and the Father's wrath 
 
 Upon his human soul pressed heavily, 
 
 Or for the welfare of his chosen flock 
 
 He wrestled in an agony of prayer 
 
 That their faith fail not. Even the Love of Him 
 
 Now mingled in my bosom with all sounds 
 
 And sights that I rejoiced in — and in hours 
 
 Of self-arraigning thought, when the dull world 
 
 With all its saws of heartlessness and pride 
 
 Came close upon me, I approved my jpys 
 
 And simple fondnesses, on trust that He 
 
 Who taught the lesson of unwavering faith 
 
 From the meek lilies of green Palestine, 
 
 Would fit the "earthly things that most I loved 
 
 To the high teaching of my patient soul. 
 
 And the sweet hope that sprung within me now 
 
 Seemed all-capacious, and from every source 
 
 Apt to draw comfort; I perceived within 
 
 A fresh and holy light rise mildly up: 
 
 Not morning, nor the planet beautiful 
 
 That heads the bright procession, when the Sun 
 
36 THE SCHOOL OF THE HEART. 
 
 Hath sunk into the West, is half so fair : — 
 
 This was that Light which hghteth every man 
 
 That comes into the world ; from the first gleam 
 
 Of momentary joy, that twinkles forth 
 
 Brightly and often from the infant's eye. 
 
 To that which seldom comes on common days, — 
 
 The steady overflow of calm delight 
 
 In the well-ripened soul; all thoughts which spring 
 
 From daily sights and sounds, all active hopes 
 
 Brought from the workings of the outer world 
 
 Upon the life within, here have their fixed 
 
 And proper dwelling-place. 
 
 As on the front 
 Of some cathedral pile, ranged orderly. 
 Rich tabernacles throng of sainted men. 
 Each in his highday robes magnificent. 
 Some topped with crowns, the church's nursing sires. 
 And some, the hallowed temple's serving-men. 
 With crosiers deep-embossed, and comely staves 
 Resting aslant upon their reverend form, 
 Guarding the entrance well; while round the walls. 
 And in the corbels of the massy nave. 
 
LESSON II. 37 
 
 All circumstance of living child and man 
 
 And heavenly influence, in parables 
 
 Of daily passing forms is pictured forth: 
 
 So all the beautiful and seemly things 
 
 That crowd the earth, within the humble soul 
 
 Have place and order due; because there dwells 
 
 In the inner temple of the holy heart 
 
 The presence of the Spirit from above : 
 
 There are his tabernacles; there his rites 
 
 Want not their due performance, nor sweet strains 
 
 Of heavenly music, nor a daily throng 
 
 Of worshippers, both those who minister 
 
 In service fixed — the mighty principles 
 
 And leading governors of thought; and those 
 
 Who come and go, the troop of fleeting joys — 
 
 All hopes, all -sorrows, all that enter in 
 
 Through every broad receptacle of sense. 
 
SCHOOL OF THE HEART. 
 
 LESSON III. 
 
' THE DEUYLL THEY SAY IS DEAD! 
 
 THE DEUILL IS DEAD! 
 
 IT MAY WEL SO BE; 
 
 OR ELS THEY WOLD SEE 
 
 OTHERWISE, AND FLEE 
 
 FROM WORLDLY VANITIE, 
 
 AND FOULE COVETOUSNES 
 
 AND OTHER WRETCHEDNES, 
 
 FICKELL FALSENESSE, 
 
 VARYABLENESSE 
 
 WITH VNSTABLENESSE. 
 
 « » * 
 
 FARWEL BENIGNITY! 
 
 FARWELL SIMPLICITYE! 
 FARWELL HUMILITYE! 
 FARWEL GOOD CHARITY!" 
 
 Skelto 
 
LESSON THE THIRD. 
 
 The dews descend — the soft and gentle dews; 
 
 Over the homeward meadows, stretching forth 
 
 Far into the grey mist, the cattle lie 
 
 Most tranquilly; the river's silver swathes 
 
 Move not, or slumber silently along; 
 
 The cups of the water-lilies are not stirred 
 
 By passing eddies, but with countenance 
 
 Turned up to Heaven, they lie and let the dark 
 
 Come down on them, and then they pass beneath 
 
 Into their wat'ry bed, till the young morn 
 
 Looks slant upon the surface of the stream. 
 
 And there among the golden company 
 
 Floats like a queen that grand and ancient flower. 
 
 With name that passing from the charmed tongue 
 
42 THE SCHOOL OF THE HEART. 
 
 Reminds us of low melodies in sleep. 
 
 So honey-sweet, so musically soft — 
 
 Like Artemis on Erymanthus' ridge 
 
 Taking her pleasure in the mountain chase. 
 
 With the field-nymphs around her playing blithe. 
 
 Her beautiful brow she lifts among them all. 
 
 And easy to be known, though all are fair : — 
 
 That flower of many honours, dwelt upon 
 
 By old prophetic light, in time of yore 
 
 A mighty parable of mystic things. 
 
 All sacred, leaf and bud and banded stalk. 
 
 And root that struck into the bed of Nile, 
 
 Or by the lake Maeotis — or perchance 
 
 Under the bank of Jordan fringed with palms: — 
 
 Fit and accepted emblem of that first 
 
 Great resurrection of the chosen few. 
 
 When from the waters blank and desolate 
 
 They rose like thee; and token not unknown 
 
 Of other and of deeper tendencies 
 
 Of all things on this earth — how in the track 
 
 And visible procession of events 
 
 One tale is told, one moral figured forth, — 
 
 Birth, death, and resurrection — birth and death 
 
LESSON 111. 43 
 
 And resurrection, ever and anon 
 
 Held up in clearest light to human thought. 
 
 The milky tender seed is fashioned first 
 
 From the flower that dies in birth ; through cruel blights 
 
 And under adverse skies, with pain and toil 
 
 If not self-known, yet rendered evident 
 
 By the careful nurture that it looketh for, 
 
 It ripens into age ; and then it dies 
 
 In the brown ground, and chilly nights and snows 
 
 Pass over it — at last the kindly Sun 
 
 Bursts out upon it, and it breaks its grave. 
 
 And issues forth, a beautiful green thing, 
 
 A fresh and lively scion. And in things 
 
 That look less like our own humanity. 
 
 If we would search, the same great parable 
 
 Is ever taken up and told abroad. 
 
 And will be till the end. Beauty and Truth 
 
 Go hand in hand — and 'tis the providence 
 
 Of the great Teacher, that doth clearest shew 
 
 The gentler and more lovely to our sight. 
 
 Training our souls by frequent communings 
 
 With her who meets us in our daily path 
 
 With greetings and sweet talk, to pass at length 
 
44 THE SCHOOL OP THE HEART. 
 
 Into the presence, by unmarked degrees. 
 
 Of that her sterner sister ; best achieved 
 
 When from a thousand common sights and sounds 
 
 The power of Beauty passes sensibly 
 
 Into the soul, clenching the golden links 
 
 That bind the memories of brightest things. 
 
 So to that queenly virgin on the shore 
 
 Of old Phaeacia, neither mortal man 
 
 Nor woman might be likened, but one branch 
 
 Of budding palm, in Delos that upsprung 
 
 Fast by Apollo's altar from the ground. 
 
 Thus, irrespective of all names of kind 
 
 Is heavenly Beauty — spread along the earth. 
 
 In all created things, always the same. 
 
 Many have held that pure and holy truth 
 Dwells only in the solitary soul ; 
 That man with man conversing may not share 
 Aught of the spiritual inward life ; 
 That soul approaching within reach of soul 
 Fosters a longing after things cast off 
 With the first slough of Nature: — some have said 
 That the green earth, with all her leafy paths 
 
LESSON III. 45 
 
 Aiul her blue hills, hath nothing of delight 
 Fitted for holy men ; — yet they have loved 
 To wander in the twilight — to recline 
 In the cool shade of a fresh-bursting tree — 
 To look into the nighty when from the sky 
 The moonlight broods upon the charmed earth; 
 Yea, they have loved to take their playfellows 
 From simple children, and to loose awhile 
 The rigid bands of hardship self-imposed : 
 And then they tell of youth, and innocence. 
 And for a little moment sunshine burst's 
 Upon their souls — a transitory gleam. 
 For soon the clouds roll onward thick and fast. 
 Darkening the light within, till a deep night 
 Sets in, a damp and freezing night, wherein 
 Prowl evil beasts, and most unbridled crime 
 Walks unreproved. 
 
 As one in summer tide 
 Pacing a weary road in evening light 
 After the Sun hath set, with the young Moon 
 Looking upon him from the purple mist 
 That floats above the West, saddens to think 
 
46 THE SCHOOL OF THE HEART. 
 
 That each step bears him further from his love ; 
 
 So in the interchange of daily words 
 
 With proud and heartless men, comes weariness 
 
 Upon my spirit, and my thoughts look back 
 
 To solitude, or sweet society 
 
 Of chosen souls, when two or three in peace 
 
 Gathered together, for a little hour 
 
 We held discourse in all humility 
 
 Of common dangers and of common hopes; 
 
 Till there came One among us who declared 
 
 Why all these things were so; till our hearts burned 
 
 Within us at the thoughts that flowed abroad 
 
 From one into the other; till we looked 
 
 And saw Him in the midst, as he had said. 
 
 Known in the feeding of our spirits : known 
 
 For that he blessed and brake as he was wont; 
 
 Known to be present in his messengers. 
 
 The daily calls and offices of life. 
 
 Which, like their Master, to the human kind 
 
 Go about doing good. 
 
 Despise not thou 
 The yearnings of a spirit ill at ease 
 
LESSON III. 47 
 
 To dwell with men that have no love for God — 
 
 Men of devices new and manifold — 
 
 Men who would disenshrine the heavenly crown 
 
 From the bright pole, and seek their best reward 
 
 In being catalogued with printed names, 
 
 And blazoning records of schismatic strife 
 
 In the far quarters of the world. O Love ! 
 
 O Charity, that erst ascendant crowned 
 
 Our land with calm light like the star of eve ! 
 
 Fast o'er the ocean fares the gathered gold. 
 
 Gathered from Britain's heart, while in her arms 
 
 Her famished myriads curse each coming morn; 
 
 And they who feed their thousands far away 
 
 By cold machinery that asks no toil. 
 
 Grudge the poor pittance of a labouring hour 
 
 To the home duties of unwitnest love. 
 
 Methinks I could have borne to live ray days 
 When by the pathway side, and in the dells. 
 By shady resting-place, or hollow bank 
 Where curved the streamlet, or on peeping rock. 
 Rose sweetly to the travellers humble eye 
 The Cross in every corner of our land; 
 
48 THE SCHOOL OF THE HEART. 
 
 When from the wooded valleys morn and eve 
 Past the low murmur of the angel-bell ; 
 Methinks I could have led a peaceful life 
 Daily beneath the triple-vaulted roof 
 Chanting glad matins, and amidst the glow 
 Of mellow evening towards the village tower 
 Pacing my humble way ; — most like to that 
 He in the spirit from the lonely isle 
 Saw, the beloved Apostle, round the throne 
 And Him that sat thereon, glad companies 
 Resting not day nor night their song of praise. 
 
 Go ye about and search — set up a place 
 And fetch a compass — in the brightest fields. 
 And by the dwelling of the mighty sea. 
 The everlasting witness; go and seek 
 The sweetest flower that ever bloomed on earth ; 
 See ye search well, for this our land hath borne 
 Full many a fragrant cluster — there hath come 
 From other times its sweet remembrance down;— 
 'Tis low, but ye may scent it from afar. 
 And ye may know its presence where it blooms, 
 Even in the faces of the men ye meet. 
 
LESSON III. 49 
 
 And in the little children. Many a quest 
 There hath been undertaken; many a man 
 Of tender spirit and soft step hath gone 
 Lured on by specious promises, far forth. 
 And bitterly returned. We boast ourselves 
 In pride of art — and lift our heads on high 
 Dangerously climbing, without care bestowed 
 To assure well the ground whereon is fixed 
 The ladder of our vaunting — where our sires 
 Laid deep and strong foundation, there we raise 
 Story on story vainly stretched aloft. 
 Celestial Meekness — purity of heart. 
 With all beloved and gentle memories 
 Of soul-refreshing things, up from the din 
 Of this most blasphemous and boasting age 
 Have taken flight into some purer air : 
 They have departed — never seek for them 
 In beautiful green places, or on slopes 
 Facing the West in any lovely land ; 
 No sweet memorials of the Sacrifice 
 By which man liveth, greet him on his way; 
 He walks in drear and dim disquietude. 
 Gathering no store for rest. 
 
 VOL. II. c 
 
50 SCHOOL OF THE HEART. 
 
 Eternal shame 
 Cleave to the mention of the men, whose hands 
 Pulled down from pathway side and village green 
 The holy emblem of our Faith — whose trust 
 Lay not in truths but power — to whom in vain 
 The word of caution was pronounced which bid 
 Take heed, lest with the tares ye sacrifice 
 Wheat also — doubly blind and faithless men. 
 Nursed in the gall of carnal bitterness. 
 Without one gentle spiritual thought — 
 Who in the end approved themselves to him 
 Who Mas their Captain and their Father, him 
 Who loves not order, hates all beautiful 
 And seeml}' things ; — when in their hour of dark 
 And devilish misrule, sceptre and crown. 
 The sacred types of firm and centered Power, 
 Patterns of mighty things invisible. 
 Were trodden under foot of men; when full 
 On the calm face of Christ's own Spouse, were blown 
 Pestilent slanders, and fell poisons poured 
 Into her holy cup. 
 
 They reasoned hard 
 Of so-deemed spiritual truths — and taught 
 
LESSON III. 51 
 
 The life of God to spend itself on words. 
 
 Objections and divisions, and false depth 
 
 Of sentence intricate — they led the soul 
 
 Of human kind, already prone to ill. 
 
 But now in course of wholesome discipline 
 
 Trained to bow down to heaven-appointed rule, 
 
 And keep the harmony of God's great reign. 
 
 To break those bonds in sunder, and in pride 
 
 To feel its strength, and self-intrusted power. 
 
 And tempt alone the perilous path of life 
 
 Where once the Saints, a meek and comely band. 
 
 Walked strong in union. Trust me, it is hard. 
 
 It is most hard for gentle souls to live 
 
 And not to burst abroad with very woe, 
 
 When words and offices of Heavenly Love 
 
 Win not an a.nswer in the heartless world ; 
 
 When all our Piety and all our Zeal 
 
 Lie like a level swamp — Oh slow the hearts, 
 
 And deaf the ears unto the voice of Heaven, 
 
 ' I came fiot to send Peace upon the earth ;' 
 
 True, we have tamed, or think that we have tamed 
 
 Outbreakings into blood ; true, that the edge 
 
 Of persecuting sword is turned and dull ; 
 
 c 2 
 
.l2 SCHOOL OF THE HEART. 
 
 The fierce depravity of human act 
 
 Roughs not our surface now; but with false care 
 
 Full deeply we have mixed our portion in. 
 
 Till the fell poison festers in all ranks. 
 
 And even the hearts we fold unto our breast 
 
 Are bitten, deadly bitten. Where is Love? 
 
 Where is the blessed Fold, that we may run 
 
 And shelter us? Oh God, they should have kept 
 
 A light upon the corners of thy Fold, 
 
 To guide the wanderers in the desert wide : 
 
 But they have fought for words, and striven for names. 
 
 And fallen down dead among the famished sheep ; 
 
 And round us howls the desolating wind. 
 
 And each the other knows not ; there hath fallen 
 
 Darkness that may be felt upon our path ; 
 
 But Thou art just, and righteous are thy ways : — 
 
 Where are the calm retreats our Fathers gave 
 
 To Holy Meditation — where the Fanes 
 
 That rolled their tribute of unceasing praise 
 
 Up to the gates of Heaven — and where the towers 
 
 Thick rising o'er the twice-converted land. 
 
 Warning the Peasant in his simple toil 
 
 With never-failinff memories of God ? 
 
LESSON III. 53 
 
 From their sad ruins and their crumbling shafts 
 Hath gone a cry to Heaven. — Ere now methinks 
 This Island Home of ours should have been spread 
 With mighty Temples^, morn nor solemn eve 
 Wanting the voice of Prayer. Oh I could weep 
 Even at the thought of ancient blessedness — 
 But we must pray and toil — the vengeance-cloud 
 Stoops tempest-laden on our godless land ; 
 But we will forth, sweet love, and speak with God, 
 It may be we shall find a saving band 
 Of ten meek-hearted men; — blessed and wise. 
 Could we but win so many. 
 
 But the Night 
 Falls down the Heaven, and mists of silver dew 
 Strike chill upon the sense, and mournful thoughts 
 Come thick upon me, and the truant tears 
 Stand hot upon my cheek. Then cease we here: 
 And at some fitter time take up the lyre 
 In peaceful mood, and meditate sweet strains 
 For future years, of Sorrow staid on hope. 
 
THE 
 
 SCHOOL OF THE HEART. 
 
 LESSON IV. 
 
HEAVEN-GATES ARE NOT SO HIGHLY ARCHED 
 
 AS PRINCES' PALACES ; THEY THAT ENTER THERE 
 MUST GO UPON THEIR KNEES. 
 
 WEBSTER. Duchess of Malji. 
 
LESSON THE FOURTH. 
 
 Rememberest thou that solemn Eventide 
 
 When last we parted ; we had wandered forth 
 
 Down that steep hill-path to the level moor; 
 
 It was not long before the golden sun 
 
 Wheeled sloping to the Western mountain's brink, 
 
 And presently a canopy of clouds 
 
 Folded him in with curtains of deep fire — 
 
 And so he sunk, slow and majestical. 
 
 Leaving a wake of glory ; every bird 
 
 Sung his last carol, poised upon his branch 
 
 Of night-repose, and every little flower 
 
 Closed in its beauties in its drooping breast. 
 
 c 5 
 
58 SCHOOL OF THE HEART. 
 
 We sat upon the green marge of a stream 
 Reed- skirted, and the fragments of faint light 
 Leapt in and out among the yellow stalks. 
 Or peacefully reposed within the breast 
 Of the mid-river. Our discourse had been 
 Of Infancy and Youth : the hills of fern 
 And meadows of thick cowslips floated past 
 Our mental vision, and a faint sweet smell 
 Seemed half to come upon some inward sense. 
 But we had ceased to speak, and on our ear 
 Dwelt the last words with oft recurring sound. 
 Mingling most fitly with the distant fall. 
 And the low booming of the passing dorr. 
 
 1 told thee, ere we parted home that night, 
 A thousand undistinguishable fears 
 Of heavy days to come; I mourned to see 
 Beauty and Freedom, in the daily talk 
 Of men heard frequent, on the lips of all 
 A constant theme, undying sounds that set 
 The slumbering spirit of mankind on work, 
 That they were names alone — that the dull age 
 Knows not their presence passing daily by. 
 
LESSON IV. 59 
 
 And seeks them where they dwell not; that we throw 
 Our dowry of sweet Peace unto the winds ; 
 That we have proudly sought and duly earned 
 A desolating curse from righteous Heaven. 
 
 Perchance thou art too young, and that smooth brow 
 Built upwards through thy gently- crisped hair 
 Hath not those records stampt indelibly 
 Which Care, severe Historian, writes aloft 
 That all may read ; perchance the tender blue 
 So deep within thine eyes, is all too bright 
 And cloudless yet — perchance I spake of things 
 By thee unheeded. Purity and light. 
 Thy blessed chamber, thy beloved home. 
 Brothers and sisters, and in humbler life 
 Some chosen spirits of first thoughts and few. 
 These are thy helpmates ; all thine outward world 
 Our wooded hills and thickly cottaged vales; 
 Thine inward nurture fetched from communings 
 With the great Comforter, in stillest hours, 
 And from the pages of that wondrous Book 
 Which deepens as we search, whence we may draw 
 Waters that spring into eternal life. 
 
60 SCHOOL OF THE HEART. 
 
 As every day windeth its train along 
 Of sunny hours chequered with passing clouds, 
 We grow in spirit, and the holy work 
 Of God goes forward still. Each rising morn 
 Calls us from lightest slumbers to give thanks. 
 And every night we weave a wreath of praise 
 With sweeter blossoms of our rising Spring. 
 The holy leaven works, and all the lump 
 Ere long will penetrate : for all our life 
 Will speed as doth a dove upon the wing; 
 The day will seem no longer, when the Sun 
 In age sets on us, than in this our morn 
 Seems the young dawning but an hour gone by. 
 
 Dear Genius of my musings, let us now 
 Rise to the middle Heaven, and thence look down 
 On the tossing waste of Cares, and from the wall 
 Of Love's serenest temple, catch afar 
 The beatings of the fevered heart of the world. 
 Canst thou, bound to the chariot-path of God, 
 Traverse the dread circumference — canst thou 
 Keep pace with the errant moon — or trace the star 
 Night after night, that wanders over Heaven ? 
 
LESSON IV. 61 
 
 Canst thouj the nursling of thy peaceful home. 
 
 Look without trembling down the dizzy height, 
 
 And see the flaming vapours rolled around 
 
 The journey of the Day-god, and far off 
 
 Fringing the borders of the pendent world. 
 
 Dark cloudy heaps, that love to gather gloom 
 
 Even from the fields the Sun hath sown with light ? 
 
 Come, let us rise together: and as He 
 
 Whose raiment glistered on the wondrous Mount 
 
 In sweetest converse with the Sons of Liffht 
 
 o 
 
 Yet spoke of human pain, and that decease 
 He should accomplish at Jerusalem ; 
 So take we into nearer sight of Heaven 
 Thoughts that are born of mortal suffering ; 
 Thither ascending, where in open day 
 Of the full shining of God's countenance 
 Lie treasured all the secret sins of Earth. 
 
 As one who wandering in the Western land 
 Over a hill of golden-blossomed furze 
 Amid gray rocks, where the red cup-moss grows. 
 Above the straggling fern, when now with toil 
 Of straining limbs he gains the beaconed top, 
 
62 SCHOOL OP THE HEART. 
 
 Looks over into valleys wonderful. 
 
 Thick-timbered valleys, with their fair church-towers, 
 
 Stretched into hazy distance, till a bank 
 
 Of bright blue hills with outline gently curved 
 
 Stands up before the sunset; so my Soul 
 
 Hath gained a vantage ground, and we can see 
 
 A stretch of airy prospect opening wide ; 
 
 Dost thou not hear, beloved, how the air 
 
 Is trembling with the whisper of light wings? 
 
 These are the passengers that make their road 
 
 From God to men, and traffic in our hearts, 
 
 With cargoes of rich grace and help divine ; 
 
 Repentant tears for nectar take they back, 
 
 Mourning for song — and there is joy in Heaven. 
 
 Dost thou not see the underlying world 
 
 Clad with an outer zone of brooding light. 
 
 Whence inward ever sparkles leap and flash 
 
 Like the sea-spray beneath the Evening-star ? 
 
 These are the tides of Hope, that daily fill 
 
 Life's river : thus it is decreed on high. 
 
 Because all light and gladness speeds away 
 
 Into the dark ; and from the life of man 
 
 There floweth daily forth a stream of joy 
 
LESSON IV. 6S 
 
 Into a chasm whose depth we know not of; 
 
 Therefore the soul doth day by day demand 
 
 Fresh food for strong desire, and therefore Hope, 
 
 Like ever-youthful Hebe to the throng 
 
 Of the immortals on Olympus' top. 
 
 Stands ministering, and from her golden cup 
 
 Deals sweetest potion to the thirsting soul. 
 
 It sorteth well with weakness to have need 
 To lean upon a stronger, and depend 
 Even for each step upon another's will : 
 It suiteth well with Man's infirmity 
 To be linked fast with onward-looking Hope, 
 And Doubt, and strong Desire — to see but part 
 Of all before it — and but now and then 
 Gain a bright glimpse of Beauty — now and then 
 To feel a sprinkling of the pleasant spray 
 Of the great Ocean-stream of Truth, that laves 
 With living floods the walls of the City of Life. 
 
 But wherefore doth Infirmity still haunt 
 The mournful destinies of human kind ? 
 Why, since the Earth is full of Beauty, lacks 
 
64 SCHOOL OF THE HEART. 
 
 Her best inhabitant in his best part 
 His rightful share apportioned? Why doth Man, 
 Sole heir of misery, walk the happy earth. 
 Feeding on poisons, shut from perfect joy ? 
 
 Because the beauties of this nether world 
 Are born, and live and die, and their reward 
 Is, that from them one particle of bliss 
 Makes way into the life of higher things. 
 Nourishing that whence nourishment may flow 
 Up to the soul of man, the holy place 
 Of this great natural Temple. The small flower 
 That was our favourite in the happy years 
 Of childhood, in each scheme of riper days 
 Hath borne its part ; but it hath long ago 
 Passed into earth and laid its beauty by : 
 And some that seem eternal — the dark hills 
 And thickly-timbered valleys, the great sea. 
 The never-changing watchers of the sky. 
 Are daily testimonies, by whose word 
 Speaks the great Spirit to the soul of man. 
 So that their place is finally assigned 
 In universal Being, and their rank 
 
LESSON IV. 65 
 
 Defined, and to what end they minister. 
 And to that end how far. 
 
 jl But who shall set 
 
 Definite limits to the human soul. 
 Or bound the mighty yearnings of desire 
 Wherewith the Spirit labours after Truth .f* 
 All natural teaching — all the thoughts that owe 
 Their being to the multitude of things 
 Which crowd upon us daily from without. 
 Go forward without labour — and when spurred 
 By call for mightier energies, the soul 
 Summons its hidden forces, and springs up 
 Mail-clad in most unvanquishable might, 
 A bright aspirant to a higher meed 
 Of Beauty and Desire ; thence to look up 
 To some yet loftier spiritual throne. 
 Because the heart of man is capable 
 Of all degrees of purity and power ; 
 Because the purest heart is mightiest 
 For strife with evil; therefore is the life 
 Of man encompassed with infirmity ; 
 
66 SCHOOL OF THE HEART. 
 
 And therefore to the kingdom of our God 
 Much tribulation is the beaten path. 
 
 Shall miserable Man, the sport of winds 
 And the keen breath of the eager winter air, 
 Think condescension to bow down in woe. 
 To court his brother dust, and lift his cries. 
 Wafting against the thunder-thrones of Heaven 
 The incense of his wailings ? Not that power 
 Is thereby sacrificed, or human souls 
 Lose aught of marvellous splendour — know ye not 
 That he who kneels is higher than who stands? 
 The prostrate than the upright — the opprest 
 Than the oppressor — how more heavenly light 
 Breaks in upon the spirit through distress? 
 The reed that waves along the river's brink. 
 Spearing its way into the summer air. 
 Is not so glorious, as when laid by winds 
 It rests upon the mirror of the flood. 
 Gemmed with bright globes of dew — the stream that winds 
 Through unopposing flats its teeming way, 
 Floated with merchandise to the broad sea. 
 We love not like the tumbling mountain linn. 
 
LESSON IV. 6ir 
 
 That hath not where to flow, breaking its path 
 Through fragments rough, and over mossy crags, 
 Down to the headlong cliff that tops the waves. 
 
 Hast thou not marked, how close together linked 
 Glory and Sadness walk — how never flower 
 Were half so beautiful, did we not know 
 That it must droop and wither — deem not then 
 That all the anguish-cries of this great world 
 Which reach us where we stand, find not in Heaven 
 Fit greeting; there are those who minister 
 Outside the golden gates, to purify 
 The sorrow and the joy that enters there; 
 And I have heard from that bright Visitant 
 Who comes to me each night, when my small flock 
 Is folded safe, by wearied Nature left 
 To the great Shepherd who can never sleep. 
 That often times the pale and weeping souls 
 Dazzle them as they pass to meet their Lord 
 In glittering frost-robes of the purest spar 
 Circled with many croAvns ; and often times 
 One who was joyous all, and in the world 
 Shone like a star, comes drooping in a mist. 
 
68 SCHOOL OF THE HEART. 
 
 And faulters at the steep and narrow stair ; 
 Nor enters, till with sprinkling and with words 
 The shadow of the earthy melt away. 
 
 Hear thou a vision — fitly told thee now 
 When we are parted from the nether world, 
 A dream of import strange, and prophecy 
 Which after-time shall prove. 'Twas on a night 
 Such as my spirit loves — moonlit and calm. 
 But veiled with amber mist, wherein there dwelt 
 Light, clothing equally the arch of Heaven. 
 I had flown upwards on the stripping wings 
 Of Meditation through the ample sky ; 
 By the Queen-crescent, and past many a star 
 Thronged witli unsinning shapes, wliose atmosphere 
 Made clearer shining round me as I fled. 
 Reluctantly bound onward through the vast 
 And peopled universe: and now a light 
 Fell on me as from some self-shining tract, 
 Broad and uncentered, and I felt my thoughts 
 Grew pure and wonderful, and even this flesh 
 Into a glorious temple purified, 
 For such a saintly soul as now it shrined 
 
LESSON IV. 69 
 
 .Vot all unfitting. And methought in sight 
 Full opposite^ a beautiful green land, 
 In light not clear nor dark ; a mellow day 
 Shed its soft influence over hill and dale. 
 And tenderest foliage down a hundred dells 
 Spread over paths that wound beside the bed 
 Of tinkling streamlets. Thickly scattered stood 
 Elm-shaded cottages, and wreathed smoke 
 In bright blue curls went up, and o'er the vales 
 That lay toward the waves, slept peacefully. 
 'Twas such a land as summer travellers see 
 On Britain's Western shores, who from the hills 
 Painfully climbed, beyond the Severn sea 
 Look over into Cambria, facing South, 
 To Aberavon, by the stream of Taff, 
 And old Glamorgan. — Then my fancy changed; 
 'Twas the third morning since my angel-guide 
 Landed me from strange voyage; scarcely yet 
 The search of this new home had given repose 
 To my way-wearied eyes. Thou canst not tell 
 How bright a morn it was — never such sun 
 Looked on the nether earth, as now above 
 Heaven's everlasting hills with perfect orb 
 
70 SCHOOL OF THE HEART. 
 
 Rose joyous, and from every brake the birds 
 
 Under the thick leaves starred with prisms of dew 
 
 Crowded their mellow warbles. Shapes in white 
 
 Over the lawns and by the hedge-row sides 
 
 Moved glorious — all the breathings of the air 
 
 Were full of joy — and every passing sound 
 
 Thrilled through me like the touch of her I love. 
 
 And on a sudden from an upland copse 
 
 Tangled with woodbine, and lithe virgin-bower, 
 
 Broke forth a river of full melody, 
 
 Gushing like some long reach of pouring linn 
 
 In underlying valley, when the stars 
 
 Are out upon the mountain. Mute I turned 
 
 And listened, till the music of that voice 
 
 So took my senses captive, that I stood 
 
 Emptied of thought and human consciousness; 
 
 Like her who from the sulphur-steaming vale 
 
 Hurrying away in olden time, looked back 
 
 On Admah and Zeboim, and the plain 
 
 Of fruitful Sodom lately loved, and there 
 
 As in her fondness she had looked, stood fixed. 
 
 " Hither," it said, " come hither, child of earth, 
 
 Curb thy wild leapings of unquiet thought. 
 
LESSON IV. 71 
 
 And glide into the calm of hope fulfilled. 
 
 Here is no sport of words, nor lying smile 
 
 Of rash undowried promise ; hither come 
 
 And I will show thee blest realities 
 
 More bright than earthly dreams." As by a charm 
 
 Led on, I followed, through the scented air 
 
 Moving with speed of thought, till in a shade 
 
 Most like to that, where in the morn of life 
 
 I opened forth to thee mine inner heart 
 
 When thou hadst picked thine apron full of flowers, — 
 
 I saw an angel form, serene and tall. 
 
 Far lifted into blessedness of look 
 
 Above our mortal state; and yet methought 
 
 I knew her eyes, I knew her cast of shape. 
 
 As when we see a new-acquainted face 
 
 Fixed on us strangely with accustomed looks. 
 
 ' Draw near,' she said, in that same wondrous voice 
 
 That filled the air of heaven, heard nigher now. 
 
 Like some clear organ, when the swell of song 
 
 Tempers the long-drawn music; 'let me look 
 
 Into thy face, and read thine open soul. 
 
 For blessed Angels see not as ye see 
 
 Down on the nether earth ; each fleeting spark 
 
72 SCHOOL OF THE HEART. 
 
 Of high desire, and each conception bold 
 
 Of worthy daring, to the insight keen 
 
 Of Heavenly Spirits hath its proper form 
 
 And presence, as to thee its earthy veil:' — 
 
 And as she spoke, a flush of sudden love 
 
 Like shade athwart a sunny upland thrown. 
 
 Passed on her cheek — 'dear child, the child of tears. 
 
 Thou didst not know me; scarcely had thy face 
 
 Learned to acknowledge with uncertain calm 
 
 (Which mother-love would fain hear called a smile) 
 
 My careful ministrations, when a voice 
 
 Mysterious called, first softly and scarce heard. 
 
 Then loud and louder waxing — " Come away" — 
 
 Till the dread sound struck on my throbbing brain 
 
 And I was carried from thee. Ever since 
 
 In the pure Summer air of this sweet land, 
 
 God hath been ripening for enjoyment high 
 
 My patient spirit; but thine earthly speech 
 
 Hath not the signs that might disclose to thee 
 
 By what enlightening what blessed sight 
 
 These eyes have gained — or how the faithful sense 
 
 Close-leaguing with the soul, searches unchecked 
 
LESSON IV. 73 
 
 Things that lie hid beyond the visible blue 
 And past the flickering stars.' 
 
 ^But thou mayest know- 
 Thus far, that there are many globes, as this 
 Hung in the middle firmament, where dwell 
 Pure spirits, ruling or obeying each 
 The gentle course of those their shining homes, 
 Or resting after lives of over-toil. 
 Or from the sources,, at whose distant streams 
 They loved to drink on earth, feeding at will 
 Their ever-new desire; some by the flood 
 That girds the city of God, hold communing 
 With those that pass, or muse along the brink, 
 Or cull the lavish flowers; some that love best 
 To dwell in conflict, on the verge extreme 
 Sit of this tract of Heaven, where night and day 
 The various plunging of the chafed sea 
 Doth homage to their restless thirst of change.' 
 
 ' This isle of ours (to which I marvel how 
 Thy steps have come,) its own inhabitants 
 Hath portioned, a blest tribe, who love the calm, 
 
 VOL. II. D 
 
74 SCHOOL OF THE HEART. 
 
 And tend these mystic plants, and night and morn 
 
 (For night and morn we mark as on the earth 
 
 Though not with setting or returning light, 
 
 But with alternate song, and visits new 
 
 Of blessed ones from God) for worship meet, 
 
 Drawing the lengthened chaunt, and marrying 
 
 The raptures of Earth's sweetest melodies 
 
 To pure assurance of untroubled souls. 
 
 Thou sawest, if thy way I right divine 
 
 To have lain upward, for thou art not yet 
 
 As one of us, and shalt return to earth. 
 
 Where many valleys meet, a gulf of air. 
 
 Quiet, and full of this our aether-light; 
 
 Call this ^the Haven of Lost Hope,' — for here 
 
 Speed all the holy souls who left the world 
 
 While Hope w'as young, and Promise in her bud;- 
 
 Hither they speed, and wait till there shall sound 
 
 A call to higher meed of blessedness. 
 
 The second in Heaven's roll, (if we may trust 
 
 The songs of the bright quires that hover round,) 
 
 Next to the sainted ones, that fought the fight 
 
 Against the sword, or fire, or piercing scorn. 
 
 Enduring unto death. If truly rise 
 
LESSON IV. 75 
 
 Thoughts on my spirit (and responses false 
 Have seldom place in temples purified) 
 Thou to this island after certain days 
 Shalt send a blest inhabitant^ thyself, 
 Or other, from the chambers of thine heart 
 Unwilling, parted, friend of hopes and fears. 
 ^Weep not,' for one large tear, born first of joy. 
 And fully ripened by a throe of grief 
 Rolled on my cheek, ^weep not,' for ill thou knowest 
 That earthly hope is like the precious ore 
 Rough and unseemly, till unwelcome force 
 Crush it in sunder, and the glittering wreck 
 Refine with fire, till its calm shining face 
 Give back the unbroken sky. Thou canst not tell 
 How rich a dowry Sorrow gives the soul. 
 How firm a faith, and eagle-sight of God. 
 So mayst thou see upon the Earth at night. 
 After a day of storms, whose sun hath set 
 In sorrow, when the horizontal round 
 Is hemmed by sullen clouds, there opens forth 
 High in the zenith a clear space, in which 
 As in a gulf embayed, broods quietly 
 The glory of the Moon, from underneath 
 
 d2 
 
76 SCHOOL OF THE HEART. 
 
 Her misty veil sent upwards; and the stars 
 Far up the avenues of light disclose/ 
 
 She ceased to speak — and ought of joy or fear 
 That might be left me from that voice divine 
 Not long was present; for along the shade 
 A troop of blessed children sporting past — 
 Oft have I mused ere now on ancient gems, 
 And sculptured forms of godlike symmetry. 
 And grace of pictured limbs; but never yet 
 Saw I such beauty, nor in song attained 
 So fair conceit, as now in light of Love 
 Shone in my sight these little ones of Heaven. 
 Naked they were, if that were nakedness 
 Which clothed the spirit pure with glorious veil, 
 The richest dress of God's own fashioning; 
 With perfect liberty and sport of limb 
 They gambolled by us on the Summer turf. 
 Each chasing other, and in meetings fond 
 Twining their innocent arms, and snatching oft 
 Kisses of playful love ; and then they stood 
 As children might have stood if children were 
 In the first Paradise, arm over arm. 
 
LESSON IV. 77 
 
 Clad with a crimson glow, listening our talk. 
 Their little breasts panting with joy and play. 
 For there had flowed afresh from that sweet fount 
 Words of high import, and oft questioning 
 I dwelt upon her lips; and thus had staid 
 Contented ever, but the light began 
 Slowly to wane around me, and her form 
 Dimmer and dimmer grew, her voice more faint. 
 Her answers rare and short; — the sporting band 
 Of holy children last remained in sight. 
 And parted last; and all around me then 
 Was darkness, till our grange and humble Church, 
 And row of limes that eastward fence our home. 
 Now visible against the waking dawn. 
 Came slowly into presence, and this Earth 
 Flowed in, and loosed the avenues of sense. 
 
THE 
 
 SCHOOL OF THE HEART. 
 
 LESSON V 
 
"CHURCH-YARDS ARE OUR CITIES, UNTO WHICH 
 
 THE MOST REPAIR, THAT ARE IN GOODNESS RICH ; 
 
 THERE IS THE BEST CONCOURSE AND CONFLUENCE, 
 
 THERE ARE THE HOLY SUBURBS, AND FROM THENCE 
 
 BEGINS GOD'S CITY, NEW JERUSALEM, 
 
 WHICH DOTH EXTEND HER UTMOST GATES TO THEM : 
 
 AT THAT GATE THEN, TRIUMPHANT SOUL, DOST THOU 
 
 BEGIN THY TRIUMPH." Donne. 
 
LESSON THE FIFTH. 
 
 From the great Sun light flows upon the Earth ; 
 And every thing that lives this summer morn 
 Looks joyous; all along the hills that stretch 
 Far southvi^ard, slowly sail the dazzling heaps 
 Of whitest vapour; but the upper heaven 
 Is deep and clear — above the yellow fields. 
 Some thick with grain, and some with pointed sheaves 
 Spread as with tents, and some but yesterday . 
 Joyed over with loud shouts of harvest joy. 
 The dizzy air swims onward — in thick groups 
 Over the slopes, and in the cottaged dells. 
 Gathered in undistinguishable mass 
 Of dark luxuriance, elm, and solemn oak. 
 And tender ash, sleep in the lavish light. 
 
 d5 
 
82 SCHOOL OF THE HEART. 
 
 Come let us forth, my best beloved, and roam 
 Along the bowered lanes that thread the vales ; 
 For on the bank beneath the arching shade 
 Hang purple strawberries, and interchange 
 Of leafy harbour, and field path, and hill. 
 And the far sea, and underlying dells. 
 Will prompt sweet themes of never- failing talk. 
 
 Oft have I seen, when on the mighty hills 
 That curve around our bay, in a close nook 
 Upon the westward slope, a village tower: 
 And I have stood and gazed upon its top 
 That looks above the trees, and thought my life 
 Would pass full pleasantly beneath its crest; 
 So quiet is it, so without pretence 
 Most lovely, that the throng of restless hopes 
 That ever leap unquiet in the soul 
 Might well be charmed in such a presence, down 
 To sweet contentment — and the mellowed voice 
 Of the past hour hath come upon mine ear 
 So sweetly, that I waited where I stood 
 To hear its sound again, rather than risk 
 Echoes less gentle on a near approach. 
 
LESSON V. SS 
 
 Bend we our journey thither — for the day 
 
 Is all our own, for ramble or for talk, 
 
 Or seat by the cool mountain stream, or hour 
 
 Of meditation by that modest church : 
 
 For, if I guess aright, there should be there 
 
 Ancient stone monument of honest men. 
 
 Or mouldering cross; and from that arboured nook 
 
 Yon hills will shew most proudly, 'Tis not far : 
 
 Thou art a denizen of mountain air ; 
 
 And the fresh breezes from the sea will fan 
 
 Our brows as we mount upward. 
 
 Gentlest Girl, 
 Thou wert a bright creation of ray thought 
 In earliest childhood — and my seeking soul 
 Wandered ill- satisfied, till one blest day 
 Thine image passed athwart it — thou wert then 
 A young and happy child, sprightly as life ; 
 Yet not so bright or beautiful as that 
 Mine inward vision : — but a whispering voice 
 Said softly — This is she whom thou didst choose ; 
 And thenceforth ever, through the morn of life, 
 Thou wert my playmate — thou my only joy. 
 
84 SCHOOL OF THE HEART. 
 
 Thou my chief sorrow when I saw thee not: — • 
 
 And when my daily consciousness of life 
 
 Was born and died — thy name the last went up, 
 
 Thy name the first, before our Heavenly Guide, 
 
 For favour and protection. All the flowers 
 
 Whose buds I cherished, and in summer heats 
 
 Fed with mock showers, and proudly shewed their bloom; 
 
 For thee I reared, because all beautiful 
 
 And gentle things reminded me of thee : 
 
 Yea, and the morning, and the rise of sun. 
 
 And fall of evening, and the starry host 
 
 If aught I loved, I loved because thy name 
 
 Sounded about me when I looked on them. 
 
 So that the love of thee brought up my soul 
 
 To universal love ; and I have learned 
 
 That there are voices in the silent earth 
 
 That speak unto the heart; that there is power 
 
 Granted from Heaven unto the humblest things; — 
 
 And that not he who strives to gather up 
 
 Into his self-arranged and stubborn thoughts 
 
 The parables of Nature, meets with joy; 
 
 But he who patiently submits his soul 
 
 To God's unwritten teaching — who goes forth 
 
LESSON V. 
 
 Amidst the majesty of earth and sky 
 Humble, as in a mighty presence: waits 
 For influence to descend; and murmurs not 
 If in his present consciousness no trace 
 Of admiration or of lofty thought 
 Be shewn — in patience tarrying the full time. 
 Till the Beauty that hath passed into his soul 
 Shine out upon his thoughts. 
 
 Therefore I love 
 All calm and silent things — all things that bear 
 Least show of motion or unnatural force; — ■ 
 Therefore I love to mark the slow decay 
 Of ancient building, or of church-yard Cross, 
 Or mouldering Abbey — and as formerly 
 I mourned when I remembered how of old 
 Where crumbling arches ivy-prop their shafts 
 The proud aisle stood, and the full choir of praise 
 Rolled solemn from an hundred tongues: — So now 
 I seem to see that mighty Providence 
 Is justified; that more hath been revealed 
 On which the human soul hath lived and grown 
 In the departure of old glories — more 
 
86 SCHOOL OP THE HEART. 
 
 In cherished memories that keep at home 
 
 Within our breasts, than in the maintenance 
 
 Of the busy action which hath wrought their charm. 
 
 But we are drawing near — this bowered lane 
 With ghmpses of the southern bank of hills 
 And ever through the bents, the blessed sea 
 Far to the West, might stir a heavier heart 
 Than thine and mine to leap with childish joy. 
 Thanks to the arching boughs for stir of breeze 
 Scarce sensible but in their rustling leaves, 
 Yet even thus most cooling; thanks for shade 
 Dark and continuous as we further climb. 
 Like magic corridor deep down in earth. 
 Thickening to perfect black; whence in the glare 
 Of sickly noon upon the autumn fields, 
 I have scared night birds, and have watched the bat 
 Pass and repass alternate. How the sense 
 Hails the dense gloom, and hastens to the cool : — 
 Now rest thee here, where scarce the sun may see 
 Our pleasant refuge; where we scarce can tell 
 There is an outward universe, so close 
 And hallowed is the shade; save where, through length 
 
LESSON V. 87 
 
 Of dark perspective, yonder shine a group 
 Of sunny tombstones, and one window-pane. 
 Lit with the noon, is glittering like a star 
 Down even to us. 
 
 I heard one say. 
 It was an aged dame, whose humble cot 
 Fronted our church-yard wall, — she loved to look 
 When from the windows of the hallowed pile 
 The sunbeam came reflected; she could think 
 Fondly, she said, that there were those within 
 Whose robes were shining, thronging the deep aisles. 
 And the promised glory of the latter house 
 Would crowd upon her vision. 
 
 Think we thus : 
 And in yon vista of uncertain light 
 If we behold in fancy this our life 
 Chequered with dark and bright, and at its head 
 The emblem of our end — let yonder gleam 
 Tell us of glory fetched by angel hands 
 To spread upon us: be to us a spark 
 Lit at the altar of the Holy One, 
 Over the majesty of patient Death 
 
88 SCHOOL OF THE HEART. 
 
 Hovering^ and waiting its appointed time 
 To kindle all to life. 
 
 But fabling thus 
 I've led thee from thy rest; and now at once 
 Opens upon our sight a goodly range 
 Of fretted buttresses, and the low porch 
 Invites us, with its antique seat of stone. 
 And cool religious shade. But as we climb 
 The church-yard steps, look back and see arise 
 As if in show, far o'er the bowering leaves 
 The southern mountains — see o'er half the sky 
 Spread out, a mixture wild of hill and cloud. 
 
 Stand by me here. Beloved, where thick crowd 
 On either side the path the headstones white: 
 How wonderful is death— how passing thought 
 That nearer than yon glorious group of hills. 
 Aye, but a scanty foot or two beneath 
 This pleasant sunny mound, corruption teems; — 
 And that one sight of that which is so near 
 Could turn the current of our joyful thoughts. 
 Which now not e'en disturbs them. 
 
LESSON V. 
 
 See this stone^ 
 Not, like the rest, full of the dazzling noon, 
 But sober brown — round which the ivy twines 
 Its searching tendril, and the yew-tree shade 
 Just covers the short grave. He mourned not ill 
 Who graved the simple plate without a name : 
 
 " This grave's a cradle, where an mfant lyes, 
 'Rockt fast asleepe with Death's sad lullabyes." 
 
 And yet methinks he did not care to wrong 
 
 The Genius of the place, when he wrote ^^sad:" — 
 
 The chime of hourly clock, — the mountain stream 
 
 That sends up ever to thy resting-place 
 
 Its gush of many voices — and the crow 
 
 Of matin cock, faint it may be but shrill. 
 
 From elm-embos.omed farms among the dells, — 
 
 These, little slumberer, are thy lullabyes: 
 
 Who would not sleep a sweet and peaceful sleep 
 
 Thus husht and sung to with all pleasant sounds? 
 
 And I can stand beside thy cradle, child. 
 And see yon belt of clouds in silent pomp 
 Midway the mountain sailing slowly on. 
 Whose beaconed top peers over on the vale; — 
 
90 SCHOOL OP THE HEART. 
 
 And upward narrowing in thick-timbered dells 
 
 Dark solemn coombs, with wooded buttresses 
 
 Propping his mighty weight — each with its stream. 
 
 Now leaping sportfully from crag to crag, 
 
 Now smoothed in clear black pools — then in the vales. 
 
 Through lanes of bowering foliage glittering on, 
 
 By cots and farms and quiet villages 
 
 And meadows brightest green. Who would not sleep 
 
 Rocked in so fair a cradle? 
 
 But that word. 
 That one word — ^ death,' comes over my sick brain 
 Wrapping my vision in a sudden swoon; 
 Blotting the gorgeous pomp of sun and shade. 
 Mountain, and wooded cliff, and sparkling stream, 
 In a thick dazzling darkness. — Who art thou 
 Under this hillock on the mountain side? 
 I love the like of thee with a deep love. 
 And therefore called thee dear — thee who art now 
 A handful of dull earth. No lullaby es 
 Hearest thou now, be they or sweet or sad — 
 Not revelry of streams, nor pomp of clouds. 
 Not the blue top of mountain — nor the woods 
 That clothe the steeps, have any joy for thee. 
 
LESSON V. 91 
 
 Go to then — tell me not of balmiest rest 
 In fairest cradle — for I never felt 
 One half so keenly as I feel it now. 
 That not the promise of the sweetest sleep 
 Can make me smile on Death. Our days and years 
 Pass onward — and the mighty of old time 
 Have put their glory by, and laid them down 
 Undrest of all the attributes they wore. 
 In the dark sepulchre — strange preference 
 To fly from beds of down and softest strains 
 Of timbrel and of pipe, to the cold earth. 
 The silent chamber of unknown decay; 
 To yield the delicate flesh, so loved of late 
 By the informing spirit, to the maw 
 Of unrelenting waste; to go abroad 
 From the sweet .prison of this moulded clay. 
 Into the pathless air, among the vast 
 And unnamed multitude of trembling stars; 
 Strange journey, to attempt the void unknown 
 From whence no news returns; and cast the freight 
 Of nicely treasured life at once away. 
 
 Come, let us talk of Death — and sweetly play 
 With his black locks, and listen for a while 
 
9^ SCHOOL OF THE HEART. 
 
 To the lone music of the passing wind 
 
 In the rank grass that waves above his bed. 
 
 Is it not wonderful, the darkest day 
 Of all the days of life — the hardest wrench 
 That tries the coward sense, should mix itself 
 In all our gentlest and most joyous moods 
 A not unwelcome visitant — that Thought, 
 In her quaint wanderings, may not reach a spot 
 Of lavish beauty, but the spectre form 
 Meets her with greeting, and she gives herself 
 To his mysterious converse? I have roamed 
 Through many mazes of unregistered 
 And undetermined fancy; and I know 
 That when the air grows balmy to my feel 
 And rarer light falls on me, and sweet sounds 
 Dance tremulously round my captive ears, 
 I soon shall stumble on some mounded grave; 
 And ever of the thoughts that stay with me, 
 (There are that flit away) the pleasantest 
 Is hand in hand with Death: and my bright hopes, 
 Like the strange colours of divided light. 
 Fade into pale uncertain violet 
 About some hallowed precinct. Can it be 
 
LESSON V. 93 
 
 That there are blessed memories joined with Death, 
 Of those who parted peacefully, and words 
 That cling about our hearts, uttered between 
 The day and darkness, in Life's twilight time? — 
 Oh, I could tell of one whose image comes 
 Before my inner sight — I knew her not — 
 That ancient dame I told thee of, whose eyes 
 Sought for Heaven's glories in the light of Earth, 
 She would speak of her, till her heart was full. 
 And I would weep for childish waywardness. 
 And long to be as she was. 'Twas her own 
 And only child ; and never from her side 
 Long years, she said, had parted her; in joy 
 And beauty she grew up, ever her sire 
 Gladdening with smiles, and laying on his heart 
 Ointment of purest comfort. On a day 
 Heaven sent a worm into this summer flower; 
 She told me how they watched her fade away 
 As we have watched the clouds of evening fade 
 After the sun hath set. Slow were her words, 
 And solemn, as she reached the parting tale: 
 ' *Twas thus we sat and saw our only hope 
 Go down into the grave: for many months 
 
94 SCHOOL OF THE HEART. 
 
 It was a weary weary life to lead: 
 -She weakened by degrees; and every day 
 Less light was in her eye, and on her cheek 
 Less colour; and the faint quick pulse that beat 
 In the blue veins that laced her marble wrist 
 Stole without notice on the wary touch. 
 Sometimes by day she asked if it were fair, 
 By night if it were starlight ; that was all. 
 Ye should have seen her but a night and day 
 Before she died, how she sat up and spoke, 
 How of a sudden light most wonderful 
 Looked forward from her eyes, and on her cheek 
 Flushed colour, like a bloom from other lands. 
 The bloom that shews in flowers beyond the skies. 
 And then the words came forth most musical. 
 Low-toned and solemn, like the final notes 
 Of that grand anthem whose last strain is ' Peace.' 
 She spoke of angels, seen in a half light; 
 She spoke of friends, long- severed friends, that died 
 In early youth, some fair and tall, and some 
 Most innocent children, that with earnest gaze 
 Looked ever in upon her all the night. 
 And faded slow into the light of morn. 
 
LESSON V. 95 
 
 And so she passed away; and now her grave 
 Ten summers and ten winters hath been green ; 
 We dug it in a still and shady place; 
 There is no headstone; for we deemed it vain 
 To carve her record in a mouldering slab. 
 Whose name is written in the Book of Life.' 
 
 I am not one whose pleasure is to weave 
 Tales highly wrought of sudden accident, 
 Unlooked-for recognition, or desire 
 Strangely fulfilled; but yet I have a tale 
 Which will bring tears of pity to thine eyes. 
 And summon all thy sadness to attend 
 A willing mourner in a funeral train. 
 Within our hilly bay, hard by the beach. 
 Dwelt one whose nightly service was to watch 
 All deeds of outlaws on the Channel trade. 
 Him on the cliff-side pathways we might see 
 Early and late, and meet in the dusk eve 
 Up the steep tracks, threading the oaken copse. 
 That delves into the sea. One summer morn, 
 When the bright Sun looked down upon the earth 
 Without a cloud, and all along the shore 
 
96 SCHOOL OF THE HEART. 
 
 Twinkled the restless sparkles, he rode by. 
 
 And passing offered salutation gay, 
 
 As one who in the beauty and the warmth 
 
 Of that most blessed morning bore a part. 
 
 That day we wandered, my dear friend and I, 
 
 Far off along the hills, up perilous paths 
 
 Gathering the rock-plants, or with hollowed hand 
 
 Scooping the streams that trickled down the dells: 
 
 Till from a peak we saw the fiery sun 
 
 Sink down into the sea, and twilight fell; 
 
 And ere we reached our cot, the distant lights 
 
 Shone from the Cambrian coast, and from the isle 
 
 Unseen in the mid-channel. From his cot 
 
 There looked into the bosom of the bay 
 
 A steady light — and when we reached our home 
 
 We slept and thought not of him. In the morn 
 
 Rumour was busy — and her minister 
 
 Our bustling hostess, told how all the night 
 
 His anxious bride (for one short month ago 
 
 They gave their troths) had watched for his return ; 
 
 How there came by a stranger with his horse. 
 
 Who answered not, when breathless she enquired 
 
 Where he was left, and why. Many with search 
 
LESSON V. 97 
 
 Hopeless and wearisome, toiled all the day ; 
 
 And when the evening came, upon the beach 
 
 Below that awful steep where winds the road 
 
 Cut in the mountain-side above the sea. 
 
 They found a cold and melancholy corpse 
 
 With outstretched arms and strangely-gathered limbs. 
 
 Like one who died in sudden and sharp pain; 
 
 And deeply gashed on either side the brow 
 
 The gaping death-marks of a cruel fall. 
 
 Thou wouldst have wept to see her as she past 
 
 To snatch her scanty comfort of a look. 
 
 And then to see him, warm but now and gay, 
 
 And full of soft endearments, hidden deep 
 
 In the cold ground: — it was a blank still face. 
 
 But bearing trace of tears, and ashy pale. 
 
 Stiffened to stone by strong and sudden grief. 
 
 Her little stock of hopes, just anchored safe 
 
 In a calm port, were sent adrift again 
 
 Upon the howling wintry sea of life: 
 
 And she is fain to gather up afresh 
 
 The cast-off weeds of past prosperity, 
 
 And deck her as she may. But a sad rent 
 
 Hath Sorrow made in her; nor can she now 
 
 VOL. II. E 
 
98 SCHOOL OF THE HEART. 
 
 Knit up her ravelled hopes, nor summon heart 
 To enter on Life's journey all alone, 
 A new and weary way. But time will come 
 When memory of her woe shall be to her 
 A sweet companion — Sorrow shall have past 
 Into her being, and have chastened well 
 The lawless risings of unquiet thought. 
 
 Nearer this tale hath carried me to think 
 Of mine own grief: should I not weary thee 
 With record of affliction, I would dwell 
 On playful hopes too pitilessly crushed. 
 And voices that made glad my soul erewhile. 
 Quenched in cold earth — coming like saddened bells 
 Far off and faint beneath the muffling clay. 
 *But one there was that left me, whose fresh loss 
 Time, nor the changeful world, hath never healed. 
 I am not skilled with robe of artful verse 
 To cheat the destitution of deep woe- 
 Sorrow and I in the sunny years of youth 
 Have been but rare companions; I have loved 
 
 * The following lines are a humble tribute to the cherished 
 memory of Arthur Henry Hallam. 
 
LESSON V. 99 
 
 Rather in Beauty's temple ministrant 
 
 To treasure up sweet music, and enshrine 
 
 Thee, the bright Saint of my best holiday. 
 
 In some deep- fretted niche of Poesy ; 
 
 But those short tidings reached me — and my heart 
 
 Was sorely stricken, and the bitter springs 
 
 Were broken up within me. 
 
 Gentle soul. 
 That ever moved among us in a veil 
 Of heavenly lustre ; in whose presence thoughts 
 Of common import shone with light divine; 
 Whence we drew sweetness, as from out a well 
 Of honey, pure and deep; thine earthly form 
 Was not the investiture of daily men. 
 But thou didst wear a glory in thy look 
 From inward converse with the Spirit of Love. 
 And thou hadst won in the first strife of youth 
 Trophies that gladdened hope, and pointed on 
 To days when we should stand and minister 
 At the full triumphs of thy gathered strength. 
 
 The twain were rent asunder in an hour 
 Of which we knew not ; and the face we loved 
 
 E 2 
 
100 SCHOOL OF THE HEART. 
 
 With common earth is mingled; but the Soul 
 Drinks deep of Beauty, and in vision clear 
 Searches the glorious features from whose light 
 Flows every joy that shines on us below. 
 
 It was a question wonderful and deep 
 •^Who knoweth if to live be but to die, 
 ' And Death be Life ?' In an unblessed time 
 It past from one whose lips were passages 
 For sweetest music, whose unwearied soul 
 Dwelt among human griefs ; who loved to find 
 The wrecks of joy and faded flowers of Hope. 
 Since have the wide earth and the arch of Heaven 
 Rung with blest answer; — and all Poesy 
 And dreams of holy men, and chrystal tears 
 Of the grave- circling mourners, have been blent 
 With light of Promise that can never fade. 
 
 'Twas the faint dawn; and from the waking Earth 
 Soft prayers were rising to the gate of heaven ; 
 The busy lark had been before, and sung 
 Floating in middle air, whether she love 
 To swell the incense of the offering Earth, 
 Or to be first of all created things 
 
LESSON V. 101 
 
 To give glad welcome to the peering Morn. 
 
 In old Verona sweetly slept the while 
 
 That Bard of blessed soul, to whom pure dreams 
 
 Ministered ever, and sweet strains of song 
 
 Lulled him the night-hours through. 
 
 Stole not so softly now the slow-paced light 
 
 Into that chamber dim, as moved before 
 
 His sight the vision of his Laura's form ; 
 
 All still and heavenly, and her lustrous eyes 
 
 Quietly bent upon him, angel-mild. 
 
 Not in the restlessness of earthly love,— 
 
 Most like (but more serene) the look of one 
 
 Who hath drunk deep of woe, and rests in faith. 
 
 They had been severed long — meeting like this 
 
 Might seem to warrant question. She replied, 
 
 (Thou can'st njot tell, love, how she said those words. 
 
 But thou hast heard those sweetest notes of all 
 
 Prest from the rapturous breast of nightingale. 
 
 That hath their airy dwelling here and there 
 
 Circling thee where thou standest in the gloom) 
 
 ' I live, beloved; but 'tis thou art dead; 
 
 ^ Time is when thou shalt live.' 
 
 See how the light 
 Dwells on yon mountain-side — marking each dell^ 
 
102 SCHOOL OF THE HEART. 
 
 And every buttress of the velvet turf. 
 
 So that we see the ribbed shadows stretch 
 
 Lengthened, as by the westering sun, along 
 
 This northward slope — and yet the day is high : 
 
 But turn we homeward — and that favoured hill 
 
 That overlooks our bay, reach, when the sun 
 
 Dips in the ocean brim. We may not lose. 
 
 After a day all consecrate as this. 
 
 The holy influence which on human souls 
 
 Flows from the sunset. Life and earthly things 
 
 And calls importunate for daily toil 
 
 Grant not such respite often as this day 
 
 We two have freely shared. Thankfully rise. 
 
 Dear Sister of my heart, from thy low seat. 
 
 Thankfully rise, and softly move away — 
 
 IMove, like a dream — for all around us hangs 
 
 The balanced calm of hills and arching sky. 
 
 And the solemn sleep of Death ; one startling word 
 
 Breaks the fair spell for ever. 
 
 Pass we hence; 
 And as that reverend Priest of Poesy, 
 Whose presence shines upon these twilight times, 
 Hath, in the churchyard in the mountains, done 
 One Sacrifice whose scent shall fill the world. 
 
LESSON V. lOS 
 
 So shall this hour be fresh in memory, 
 
 A time to speak of in our thankful prayers. 
 
 If hallowed light of universal love 
 
 Each rising thought have steeped, and there have passed 
 
 Into our spoken words, aught that may teach 
 
 To the world's restless heart the bliss of calm. 
 
 The heavenly joy of well-assured Hope, 
 
 And the strong searchings of the soul for God. 
 
THE 
 
 SCHOOL OF THE HEART. 
 
 LESSON VL 
 
 e5 
 
NOW TO WITHDRAW MY PEN 
 AND NOW A WHILE TO REST 
 ME SEMETH IT FOR THE BESTE. 
 THE FORE CASTEL OF MY SHIP 
 SHAL GLIDE AND SMOTHELY SLIP 
 OUT OF THE WAVES WODE 
 OF THE STORMYE FLOUDE: 
 SHOTE ANKER, AND LYE AT RODE" 
 AND SAYLE NOT FARRE A BRODE, 
 TILL THE COOSTE BE CLERE 
 THAT THE LODE STARRE APPERE; 
 MY SHYP NOW WILL I PERE 
 TOWARD THE PORT SALU 
 OF OUR SAVIOUR JESU." 
 
 Skelton- 
 
LESSON THE SIXTH. 
 
 Erewhile of Death, and human suffering 
 
 Spoke we, and lingered, as in some dark wood 
 
 The pilgrim lingers, ere he dare approach 
 
 The golden shrine, where on his sight shall break 
 
 Light of pure grace from Heaven; — the end of toil 
 
 Is near — and through the trembling intervals 
 
 Of over-arching boughs, rich pinnacles 
 
 Spire up into the sky — the music deep 
 
 Of prayer- inviting bells, fills all the air. 
 
 No longer heard in fitful swells and falls 
 
 Over far fields and waters, but poured forth 
 
 As if the voice of the cathedral pile 
 
 From tower and transept, and the thousand forms 
 
108 SCHOOL OF THE HEART. 
 
 Of sculptured saints and angels, sent at once 
 Its hymn of holy rapture up to God. 
 
 As when the stars in heaven around the moon 
 Shew brightly, and the under air is calm, 
 All headland tops, and beacon-towers and steeps 
 Are clothed with visible light, and from above 
 The glory of the boundless firmament 
 Flows downward, and the heavenly host is seen. 
 The heart of him that watches by the fold 
 Swells in his breast for joy; so riseth now 
 My labouring bosom, and the choking tears 
 Are thronging on my voice for very joy 
 At prospect of the inner life divine. 
 
 Light from afar — the night is well-nigh spent, 
 The day at hand; no more of earthly woe. 
 Of conflict now no more; — the laver pure 
 Of new Baptismal innocence, the Ark 
 That bears us through the flood which fell for sin. 
 And lands us in the country far away. 
 All love, all knowledge of divinest lore 
 Regained — the pathway shining like the light 
 
LESSON VI. 109 
 
 That shineth ever to the perfect day. 
 These be our converse novir; yon solemn Church 
 The sanctuary of Earth, with its flushed tower 
 Is full in view — and we are here in peace 
 With the sunset falling round us, by our hearth; 
 Meet time for talk of mystic truths and high. 
 Best pondered on when every fleeting thing 
 Is shut from our observance, and the sight 
 From outward lures turns inward on the soul. 
 And thou art with me, who hast ever been 
 The Spirit of my song — no longer now 
 Half-known, untried, a theme of restless thought. 
 By self-distrusting fondness glorified; 
 But tried and known, approved and manifest. 
 Partaker of a thousand wakeful thoughts. 
 And cares of daily love. 
 
 The April moon 
 When she looks over thickets fresh in green 
 Whose young leaves tremble in her golden light 
 Tempereth not with such a peaceful charm 
 The rapturous gush of bowered nightingale. 
 As doth thy quiet look my struggling thoughts; 
 
110 SCHOOL OF THE HEART. 
 
 Nor if I guess aright, doth the full song 
 
 Of the night-warbler with more life endow 
 
 The slumbering moonlight, than these tuneful words 
 
 Thy patient spirit, rapt in holy calm 
 
 Of contemplation, married to desire, 
 
 Wandering or resting as affection leads. 
 
 We have been dwellers in a lovely land, 
 A land of lavish lights and floating shades, 
 And broad green flats, bordered by woody capes 
 That lessen ever as they stretch away 
 Into the distance blue ; a land of hills. 
 Cloud-gathering ranges, on whose ancient breast 
 The morning mists repose; each autumn tide 
 Deep purple with the heath-bloom; from whose brow 
 We might behold the crimson Sun go down 
 Behind the barrier of the Western sea: 
 A land of beautiful and stately fanes. 
 Aerial temples most magnificent. 
 Rising with clusters of rich pinnacles 
 And fretted battlements ; a land of towers 
 Where sleeps the music of deep-voiced bells. 
 Save when in holiday time the joyous air 
 
LESSON VI. Ill 
 
 Ebbs to the welling sound; and Sabbath morn^ 
 When from a choir of hill-side villages 
 The peaceful invitation churchward chimes. 
 So were our souls brought up to love this earth 
 And feed on natural beauty: and the light 
 Of our own sunsets, and the mountains blue 
 That girt around our home, were very parts 
 Of our young being; linked with all we knew, 
 Centres of interest for undying thoughts 
 And themes of mindful converse. Happy they 
 Who in the fresh and dawning time of youth 
 Have dwelt in such a land, tuning their souls 
 To the deep melodies of Nature's laws 
 Heard in the after time of riper thought 
 Reflective on past seasons of delight. 
 
 But what is Beauty? why doth human art 
 Strive ever to attain similitude 
 With some bright idol of creative mind? 
 Why do the trembling stars, and mighty hills. 
 And forms of moving grace, and the deep fire 
 Of tender eyes, and gloom, and setting suns 
 All feed in turn one unfulfilled desire? 
 
112 SCHOOL OF THE HEART. 
 
 Deep theme is this for youthful lovers' thought 
 And fittest dwelt on when thy presence sheds 
 Sweet Peace around me; when then if not now. 
 When in the clearest light of tranquil love 
 Disrobed of Earth's unrest, like some fair star 
 Thou rulest in the firmament of thought. 
 
 Begin we then in humble strains, and search 
 With patient hope — it may be we shall find 
 If lowly caution guide our steps; for oft 
 Truth veileth back her bright and queenly form 
 From eyes of mortal men ; and seek not we 
 To look within, for fear with too much light 
 One glimpse benight us : let it be enough 
 To rule the spirit into harmony 
 With the great world around: for every thing 
 That therein is beareth a separate part 
 In the soul's teaching: let it be enough 
 Not by a stretch of thought, or painful strain 
 Of faculty acquired, but with pure love, 
 Pure and untaught, save what the inner light 
 Of the great Spirit teacheth, to lay bare 
 
LESSON VI. 113 
 
 The soul to the influence of each little flower 
 
 That springs beneath our feet; and go our way 
 
 Rejoicing in the fond companionship 
 
 Of every humblest thing ; communion blest 
 
 In the unpitied and unmurmured woes 
 
 And all the simple joys of Nature's babes. 
 
 Deep in a chamber of the inner soul 
 The folded principles of action lie 
 As in a bud inclosed^ which ere the time 
 Of leaf-awakening Spring comes kindly on^, 
 Containeth sprays and flowers that are to be; — 
 Thus think thou of the soul ; for better thus 
 Than to desert the mighty parable 
 That falls unceasing on the ear of man. 
 And seek new "processes of laboured thought 
 That have no fellows in the world of things. 
 
 Law is the King of all; we live and move 
 Not without firm conditions guarded well 
 In the great Mind that rules us. Manifold 
 Are the inward workings of the soul; — now seen 
 And open to the sense, as when we teach 
 
114 SCHOOL OF THE HEART. 
 
 Unto our anguished hearts sufferance of woe; 
 
 Now only visible to Angel sight 
 
 Or to the eyes of God — gradual and deep. 
 
 Owing no homage to the tyrant will. 
 
 But each and all, the wrested soul of man 
 
 Brings nearer to the course of laws divine ; 
 
 Whether by strong self-chiding, or by length 
 
 Of intercourse with heavenly messengers, 
 
 Who veil their presence in the things of Earth. 
 
 And therefore Beauty is not spread in vain 
 
 Upon this world of man — God is not left 
 
 Without his witness; and the daily task 
 
 Of human kind is bound in closest ties 
 
 To natural beauty; whether in the field 
 
 The lavish blessings of the open sky 
 
 Are shed around him, or in city vast 
 
 The Sun in crimson guise lift up his orb 
 
 Clothing the mist, distinct with domes and towers, 
 
 In wreathed glories. 
 
 God doth nought in vain; 
 And from the searchings of benighted souls 
 Before the light arose, hath flowed to us 
 
LESSON VI. 115 
 
 Great store of Truth — for in that mighty quest 
 Nought that was fair on Earth, or bright in Heaven 
 Wanted its honour, or its place assigned, 
 Or careful culture; and all lovely things 
 Were ranged for guides along the path to God. 
 
 From his fire-beacon for a thousand years 
 The searching spirit of the lorn Chaldee 
 Held converse with the starry multitude; 
 He knew the lamping potentates that bring 
 Summer and winter, when they wax and wane: 
 Soothing his solitary soul with song 
 Low-hummed, of mighty hunters, or the queen 
 That blazed in battle-front, or if perchance 
 Of gentler mood, of Nineveh's soft king 
 Sardanapalus, that on roses slept. 
 Lulled by the lingering tremble of soft lutes;— 
 Deep melodies, whose echoes left the world 
 Before the empires rose, whose wrecks are we; — 
 How proudly in his Paradise of Art 
 The old Egyptian must have worn his pomp. 
 Nature's first moulded form of perfectness 
 Wrought in her sport, and playfully destroyed 
 
Il6 SCHOOL OP THE HEART. 
 
 That she might try her artist hand again ; 
 How beautiful was Greece — how marvellous 
 In polity, and chastened grace severe — 
 In nicely-balanced strains, and harmonies 
 Tuned to the varying passion; flute or lyre 
 Not unaccompanied by solemn dance 
 In arms, or movement of well-ordered youths 
 And maids in Dorian tunic simply clad; — 
 How rich in song, and artful dialogue. 
 Long-sighted irony, and half earnest guess 
 At deeply-pondered truth. 
 
 But spirits pure. 
 Deep drinking at the fount of natural joy. 
 Grew sad and hopeless as the foot of Death 
 Crept onwards ; and beyond the deep-blue hills 
 And plains o'erflowed with light, and woody paths, 
 No safe abode of everduring joy 
 Lifted its promise to the sight of Man. 
 
 '' Farewell, farewell for ever — never more 
 Thy beautiful young form shall pass athwart 
 Our fond desiring vision; — the great world 
 
LESSON VI. 117 
 
 Moves on, and human accidents; and Spring 
 New-clothes the forests, and the warm west wind 
 Awakes the nightingales ; — but thou the while 
 A handful of dull earth, art not, and we 
 Insatiable in woe weep evermore 
 Around the marble where thine ashes lie," 
 Such sounds by pillared temple, or hill-side 
 Sweet with wild roses, or by sacred stream 
 Errant through mossy rocks, saddened the air. 
 Whether ripe virgin on the bier were borne. 
 Or youth untimely cropped; or in still night 
 The moon shone full, and choir of maidens moved 
 Through glades distinct with shadow, bearing vows 
 Of choicest flowers and hair, — fearful the while 
 Of thwarting influence or uncautious word. 
 Till round the tomb they poured their votive wine 
 And moved in dance, or chanted liquid hymns 
 Soothing the rigid silence. "Fare thee well; 
 A journey without end, a wakeless sleep, 
 Or some half-joyful place, where feeble ghosts 
 Wander in dreamy twilight, holds thee now; 
 Thy joy is done : and thine espousals kept 
 Down in the dark house of forgetfulness," 
 
118 SCHOOL OP THE HEART. 
 
 Home of our spirits, whether terrassed high 
 From Kedron's brook in thy Judaean hills, 
 A pleasant place, and joy of all the earth ; 
 Or in a brighter vision opening forth 
 Thy gold-paved streets and jasper architraves. 
 Above, and free, and Mother of us all ; 
 To thee my step would turn — to thy new songs 
 Fain would I tune the harp, that lightly skilled 
 Essays high music; in the eternal calm 
 Of thy pure air, and by thy living streams. 
 Drink long forgetfulness of earthly woe. 
 For thy sweet port this little bark long bound 
 Hath wandered on the waters — or my steps 
 Devious through many a land, each pleasant hill 
 Each mossy nook hath stayed on search for thee; 
 Still somewhat finding of wide-scattered joy. 
 Some thoughts of deep sweet meaning; but desire 
 Grows with my spirit's growth; and nought on earth 
 Is glorious now as it hath glorious been. 
 So doth my forward vision search, and read 
 In the dim distance tracks of severed light 
 Forerunning thy descent, by prophets seen 
 Of old in prospect, out of heaven from God;— 
 
LESSON VI. 119 
 
 Our earth hath nought so blessed; not the grove 
 Budding in Spring, with choir of nightingales 
 Vocal in shadowy moonlight; not the crest 
 Of old Olympus, seat of Gods secure 
 Through the eternal ages, which nor wind 
 With rude breath dares to shake, nor rain to wet. 
 Nor flakes of floating snow ; but ever stretch 
 The boundless fields of aether without cloud 
 Above, and dazzling sheen of whitest light 
 Plays round the holy summit. 
 
 — Art thou one 
 Before whose eyes bright visions have unveiled 
 Of peace and long-expected rest — to whom 
 There hath been shewn some timber-shadowed home 
 In a fair counti:y all prepared for thee. 
 Just shewn, and then withdrawn — to whom some heart 
 But yesterday in firmest union bound, 
 Hath vanished from the wide world utterly 
 Leaving upon thy breast a dreary want. 
 As doth a strain of melody broken off 
 In a sweet cadence, on the longing ear? 
 Hast thou in very hopelessness of soul 
 
120 SCHOOL OP THE HEART. 
 
 Bowed down to tyrant power, cheating thy life 
 
 Of the sweet guidance of the will, and toiled 
 
 Bridled by strong necessity, unnamed 
 
 Save by proud reasoners on the mass of men. 
 
 An unit in the aggregate, a wheel 
 
 In the base system that unsouls our race — 
 
 While human feelings deep and pure within 
 
 Flow out to wife and child, brother and friend. 
 
 And thy tired spirit looks forth in faith to Him 
 
 Who helpeth them to right that suffer wrong? 
 
 Art thou a child of Nature's own, and lovest 
 
 To hold sweet communings with this fair world 
 
 More than to search thy heart, or interchange 
 
 Thought with the thought of other — Is the Earth 
 
 To thee a well of never-failing joy — 
 
 Dost thou affect the charms of budding Spring, 
 
 Seat beneath arching shade, or with slow feet 
 
 To pace the flowery-mantled field, and cull 
 
 With careless hand the glory and delight 
 
 Of motley meadows — art thou deep in love 
 
 With the glorious changes of the dappled sky, 
 
 Whether the circle of the golden Sun 
 
 Shower the heavens with brightness, newly risen. 
 
LESSON VI. 121 
 
 Scattering the morning frost, or glorify 
 The Hquid clearness of the Summer heaven, 
 Or the West fade in twilight, till the dark 
 Fall on the fields, and Silence and sweet Peace 
 Pass hand in hand along the slumbering Earth — 
 Then looking from a chamber-casement high 
 Over paternal groves, beneath the moon. 
 Listlessly pondering, hear the village- clock 
 Strike in the voiceless night ? 
 
 All natural joy 
 From the dull heartlessness of mortal men 
 Set free for ever — Liberty and Peace, 
 Desire and its fulfilment, side by side 
 Ranged ever, all the long bright days of heaven. 
 These shall be thine, in that fair city of God 
 Dwelling, where ever through the blessed streets 
 Serene light vibrates, and the starry gulphs 
 Of aether lie above in perfect rest. 
 
 But why delay and parley with delight 
 On this side of the river — steeply rise 
 The woody shores beyond, with palace-towers 
 And golden minarets sublimely crowned 
 
 VOL. II. p 
 
122 SCHOOL OF THE HEART. 
 
 All full of light and glorious; and the stream 
 
 Is calm and silent^, flowing darkly on 
 
 Among strange flowers, and thickets of deep shade 
 
 Weary with toil, and worn with travel, plunge 
 
 From the green margin sweetly without fear; 
 
 Softly put back the wave on either side 
 
 And skim the surface with thy nether lip ; 
 
 Soon shalt thou press the flowers on yonder bank. 
 
 And rest on yielding roses. 'Tis not given 
 
 To trace thee — but most like some mighty stream 
 
 Under a rocky barrier working deep 
 
 With hollow gushings, soon to burst afresh 
 
 Over a new land faintly pictured forth 
 
 Each day on our horizon — such art thou. 
 
 The righteous souls are in the hand of God — 
 No harm shall touch them — laid securely by 
 Even in an infant's slumber, or perchance 
 In gradual progress of their mighty change : 
 The summer Sabbath is not half so calm 
 As is the blessed chamber, where repose 
 After their earthly labours, fenced around 
 With guardian Cherubim that weary not. 
 
LESSON VI. 123 
 
 The spirits of the just : not cave of sleep 
 
 In ancient Lemnos, murmured round by w^aves ; — 
 
 Not the charmed slumber of that British king 
 
 Resting beneath the crumbled abbey-walls 
 
 In the westward-sloping vale of Avalon ; — 
 
 Nor the ambrosial trance of Jove's great son 
 
 That fell beneath Troy walls — whom Death and Sleep 
 
 On dusky-folded wings to Lycia land 
 
 Bore through the yielding aether without noise. 
 
 But who can tell the glories of the day 
 When from a thousand hills and wooded vales 
 This Earth shall send her tribute forth to God, 
 Myriads of blessed forms — when her old wound 
 Shall have been fully healed — the Covenant 
 Rule in the bright ascendant — while above 
 Throb through the air from new-awakened harps 
 Pulses of ancient song : and God's own Bride 
 Drest for her Husband, lift her sky-clear brow- 
 Out of the dust? 
 
 She dwells in sorrow long : 
 Her sun of life and light hath sunk away ; 
 
124 SCHOOL OF THE HEART. 
 
 Her night, far spent it may be, yet is thick 
 
 And hangeth heavily along the sky; 
 
 We cannot see her flowers that bloom around. 
 
 Save where in dazzling clusters through the dark 
 
 Her virgin lilies drink the scattered light: 
 
 She feedeth upon dew distilled from Earth 
 
 And air, and transitory vapour dim; 
 
 But still there is a brightness in the West 
 
 Painfully traced by all her watchful sons; 
 
 Even the glory, at whose parting track 
 
 The men of Galilee stood gazing up 
 
 With shadowed foreheads, till the white-robed pair 
 
 Spoke comfort; and along the hopeful East 
 
 A clear pale shining, promise of a day 
 
 Glorious and wonderful ; — the fainting stars 
 
 Have lost their lustre — voice of wassail mirth 
 
 Is none, for the revels of Earth have past away ; 
 
 All chivalry and pomp that was of yore. 
 
 And fields of cloth of gold — all delicate work 
 
 In metal and in stone, the pride of kings 
 
 And task of captive tribes, have ceased to be : 
 
 Man misseth his old skill; but ever wins 
 
 Upon the world the calm and steady liglit 
 
LESSON VI. 125 
 
 Forerunning the great Sun; that lighteth now 
 Perchance fair orbs around us; soon to burst 
 In perfect glory on the Earth we love. 
 
 Rise up thou daughter of the brightest King 
 That ever wore a crown; awake and rise^ 
 Forget thy people and thy father's house; 
 Thou that wert yeaned in winter dreariness^ 
 Swathed in the manger of thy Love and Lord, 
 Shake off thy dust and rise — thine hour is come. 
 The marriage morn is come, and all the bells 
 In heaven are whispering with their silver tongues; 
 And the faint pulses of the sound divine 
 Are swimming o'er thee where thou liest yet 
 Unwaked; — the pomp of Seraphim ere long 
 Will be upon thee, and the sheen of Heaven 
 Fall on thy brow, as doth the glimpse of the East 
 Upon the folded flower. 
 
 My task is done : 
 The garlands that I wreathed around my brow 
 Are fading on it, and the air of song 
 Is passing from me. Thou art standing by. 
 
126 SCHOOL OF THE HEART. 
 
 Bent o'er thy Poet with Love-lighted eyes^ 
 
 And raptured look of ardent hope^, that tells 
 
 Of holiest influences shed forth within. 
 
 I have not talked with one who cannot feel 
 
 Every minutest nourishment of thought; 
 
 For I have seen thee when the western gale 
 
 Blew loud and rude upon our native hills. 
 
 With bonnet doffed, courting the busy wind ; 
 
 And I have looked on thee till my dim eyes 
 
 Swam with delight, and thou didst seem to me 
 
 As I stood by thee on the aery steep. 
 
 Like a young Seraph ready poised for flight; 
 
 O sweet illusion — but in after time 
 
 The truth shall follow — for we two shall stand 
 
 Upon the everlasting hills of heaven. 
 
 With glorious beauty clothed that cannot die; 
 
 And far beneath upon the myriad worlds 
 
 All unimaginable glory spread. 
 
 Brighter than brightest floods of rosy light 
 
 Poured by the sunset on our western sea. 
 
 It will not matter to the soul set free 
 
 Which hemisphere we tenanted on earth ; 
 
 Whether it sojourned where the northern Avain 
 
LESSON VI. 12' 
 
 Dips not in Ocean, or beneath the heaven 
 
 Where overhead the austral cross is fixed 
 
 Glistering in glory, or amidst the snows 
 
 Under the playing of the Boreal lights ; 
 
 We shall be free to wander evermore 
 
 In thought, the spirit's motion, o'er the wide 
 
 And wondrous universe, with messages 
 
 To beautiful beings who have never fallen. 
 
 And worlds that never heard the cry of sin. 
 
 As one who in a new and beauteous land 
 
 Lately arrived, rests not till every way 
 
 His steps have wandered, searching out new paths 
 
 To far off towers that rise along the vales ; 
 
 So to a thousand founts of Hght unknown 
 
 Our new-enfranchised souls shall travel forth. 
 
 Rich with strange beauties — some, it may be, clad 
 
 With woods, and interlaced with playful brooks 
 
 And ever-changing shades, like this our home ; 
 
 And some a wilderness of craggy thrones. 
 
 With skies of stranger hue; and glorious 
 
 With train of orbs attendant on their state. 
 
 Mingling their rays in atmospheres of Love. 
 
128 SCHOOL OF THE HEART. 
 
 But yet one word. Yon silver-fringed clouds 
 That scale the western barrier of the world 
 Pile upon pile^, seem to have borrowed gleams 
 Of that aetherial light I told thee of; 
 And the clear blue^, so calm and deep behind 
 On which they sail, is like the mighty Soul, 
 Thus fathomless, thus dwelt in by strange things 
 On which the forms of multitudinous thought 
 Float ever, bright or dark, or complicate 
 Of light and darkness; and the quiet stars 
 Are fountains of far off and milder fire. 
 Nearer the throne of God ; the hopes and joys 
 Of which I sung to thee, that make no wave 
 Upon the stream of memory ; but from which 
 The spiritual senses take their power. 
 And from a myriad stones, costly though small. 
 Is built the mansion of the blessed soul. 
 
 Thus far in golden dreams of youth, I sung 
 Of Love and Beauty — beauty not the child 
 
LESSON VI. 129 
 
 Of change, nor Love the growth of fierce desire, 
 But calm and blessed both, the heritage 
 Of purest spirits, sprung from trust in God. 
 Further to pierce the veil, asks riper strength, 
 And firmer resting on conclusions fixed 
 By patient labour wrought in manly years. 
 Here rest we then : our message thus declared. 
 Leave the full echoes of our harp to ebb 
 Back from the sated ear: teaching meanwhile 
 Our thoughts to meditate new melodies. 
 Our hands to touch the strings with safer skill. 
 
 VOL. II. 
 
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