EROTHANATOS 
 
 AND 
 
 SONNETS 
 
 BY 
 
 LEONARD WHEELER. 
 
 NEW YORK: 
 MELANCHOLY CLUB, 52 LEXINGTON AVE. 
 
 FOR SALE BY 
 
 JAMES MILLER, 779 BROADWAY. 
 1882. 
 

 Copyright, 1882, 
 By LEONARD WHEELER. 
 
 Trow's 
 
 Printing and Bookbinding Company 
 201-213 East i2ik Street 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
TO 
 
 M. E. B, 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 The poem, Erothanatos, is to be understood as 
 illustrating an interesting epoch in the life of an 
 imaginary youth, one of natural piety, and devoted 
 to the worship of the beautiful. He is a youth of 
 solemn and thoughtful moods, of serious poetic 
 aspirations, and keenly sensitive alike to the rap- 
 tures of joy or woe. He yearns for the divine com- 
 panionship of human wisdom, honor and truth ; but 
 he meets no such spirits, and, believing virtue to be 
 banished from the hearts of men, he moodily shuns 
 their haunts. He walks the solitary twilight paths 
 of the melancholy student, imbibing dangerously of 
 the ancient vitiated wells of sophistry. In the ego- 
 
vi FREFACE. 
 
 tism of intellectual enthusiasm he withholds scorn- 
 fully from all human intercourse ; and delighting in 
 the auroral ages of literature, and exalting the pagan 
 philosophies to the empire of his reason, he darkly 
 shuns the light of day. But in this ^studious isola- 
 tion among the relics and traditions of antiquity, 
 his companionless heart grows restless, and he en- 
 joys no religious peace of mind. There still remains 
 a void in his existence that must be filled ; there 
 must still sound a key-note to harmonize the jarring 
 chords of his life. He seeks solace ''in the pres- 
 ence of the great company of the stars and the 
 flaming constellations," and muses lonely through 
 midnight solitudes in vain. But, in an hour of 
 desperate thought, the knowledge that human love 
 must fill the void, and a hiiman voice strike that key- 
 note, *' on his vacant mind flashes like strong in- 
 spiration." His mind conceives a beautiful ideal of 
 womanhood to wed his friendless soul. He again 
 seeks among women the embodiment of his vision, 
 
PREFACE. Vll 
 
 but vainly, until he meets a child whose beauty and 
 disposition promise the realization of his poetic im- 
 agining. Enraptured, he beholds the development of 
 her superb faculties and beauty. Self-absorbed, he 
 blindly worships the idol ; when alas ! his flowering 
 hopes are blighted in the bud. Death rends the 
 delicate fabric of his love-consecrated dream, and 
 the grave engulfs the object of his adoration. Thus 
 desolated, he abandons himself to miserable grief 
 and the fearful passion of hopeless sorrow. The 
 poem intends to picture his feelings and thoughts 
 from this stage of despair, through the contempla- 
 tive changes of introspective analysis, through the 
 chaos of scepticism, to the celestial hope and un- 
 alienable faith in the after life of divine love beyond 
 the grave. 
 
 With the trembling acknowledgment of many 
 faults, I offer this first literary venture to the notice 
 of the public, with the prayer for only justice tem- 
 pered with the gentlest quality of mercy. In conclu- 
 
viii PREFACE. 
 
 sion, I wish to express my sincere thanks to my dear 
 friends, James B., S. Arthur, and Edward H. Nies, 
 N. Lattard, William Pfeiffer, and John G. Willson, for 
 their united friendly interest and generous encour- 
 agement. I also wish to express my indebtedness to 
 Mr. R. H. Stoddard for his disinterested concern in 
 the writer's behalf. The author subscribes himself 
 gratefully, their obliged servant, 
 
 LEONARD WHEELER. 
 
 New York City, July, 1882. 
 
EROTHANATOS. 
 
EROTHANATOS. 
 
 PROEM. 
 
 There grew up in the night 
 
 A peerless lily white — 
 The golden morning star shone on its birth ; 
 
 And, heavenly light arrayed in, 
 
 A silent, wild-eyed maiden 
 Sprang from the star, and kissed the flower on earth. 
 
 The pale, sweet bud she pressed 
 
 Close to her paler breast ; 
 Her cold lips moved in prayerful whisperings ; 
 
 But, in the morning gray, 
 
 Her spirit passed away 
 In the rustling music of receding wings. 
 
4 EROTHANATOS. 
 
 Love Cometh and is gone, 
 
 A star of early dawn, 
 Ablaze with ardent day's unrisen fires ; 
 
 Love Cometh up abloom 
 
 In light that is her doom. 
 And dieth as the morning star expires. 
 
 O Star, why dost thou leave us ? 
 
 O Love, how canst thou grieve us ? 
 Bright Star, and brighter Love, faint not at morn ; 
 
 But, Star, outshine the moon ! 
 
 And face day's fiery noon, 
 And, Love, live for a day as thou art born ! 
 
 The sun comes forth in splendor ; 
 
 The star, so bright and tender. 
 Must perish in the heated morning's breath ; 
 
 And earth's wan frost so chill is, 
 
 That Love's delightful lilies 
 Are withered on the freezing lips of Death. 
 
 Bring pansies, and bring roses, 
 And rosemary, and posies 
 
EROTHANATOS. 5 
 
 Of pinks, and blue-bells from the blooming heather ; 
 
 And in the morning chilly, 
 
 Come, bury Love's dead lily 
 Where the star died, so they both may lie together. 
 
 And, through the cool green grasses, 
 
 Will every wind that passes 
 Chant low and sweet for Love, the bright day long ; 
 
 And under the blue skies. 
 
 With wild and streaming eyes. 
 Pale maidens shall lament in cheerless song ; 
 
 And from the earth all over 
 
 Shall come full many a lover. 
 His eyes astare with pain that cannot sleep ; 
 
 And lips hard set and scornful 
 
 Shall utter, soft and mournful. 
 Complaints, and alien eyes shall melt and weep. 
 
 For Love, sweet Love, is dead ! 
 With lowly lying head 
 
6 EROTHANATOS. 
 
 Deep in the grass, her virgin lily fading ; 
 
 The light passed from her eyes 
 
 With a star that left the skies, 
 And shines again for no sad voice upbraiding. 
 
 Farewell, Love, birth of Aidenn ! 
 
 A Lily, Star, or Maiden, 
 Bloom not, nor shine, nor sing through life's long 
 years. 
 
 As thy dim spirit waits 
 
 Within Death's icy gates. 
 To dissolve them with thy kisses, all in tears; 
 
 Then our immortal eyes 
 
 Shall ope on Paradise, 
 And Death shall harm no more on land or sea. 
 
 And all the dead shall rise. 
 
 With re-awakened eyes, 
 And see earth changed to heav'n, and all through 
 thee. 
 
 Farewell, Love, now we miss thee ! 
 Farewell, Love, till we kiss thee. 
 
EROTHANATOS. 7 
 
 When thou hast Death consumed, whose heart so 
 chill is ; 
 
 Farewell, Love, till we meet thee 
 
 Amid thy stars, to greet thee 
 And crown thee with thy resurrected lilies I 
 
EROTHANATOS. 
 
 DEDICATION. 
 
 For her remembrance, and to you who loved, 
 Who still hold dear a dead one, cherishing 
 A memory deathless as the soul, who cling 
 To thoughts of her as grasses hold to earth, 
 Their lives depending on the clasp they give ; 
 To you who miss a beauty in the sun 
 Because it throws one shadow less, and one 
 Blue eye it brightens not : for you I frame 
 These mournful lays. For you who pensive steal 
 Away at dusk to meditate and mourn 
 In some lone spot for one who nevermore 
 Walks hand in hand with you, and cheers no more 
 For you I sing, and to assuage my heart 
 Of grief, I chant this melancholy Hymn. 
 
 For you whose altar-fires are built on graves, 
 Who kneel above the dead with weeping eyes, 
 Whose hearts beat out your immemorial lives 
 
EROTHANATOS. ' 
 
 In music consecrated to the dead, 
 
 Whose thought religious, and whose pious care 
 
 Is one mound ev'ry season visited, 
 
 And made a paradise of thoughtful flowers : 
 
 For you this song, this dirge for one I loved. 
 
 O Memory ! still preserve her lineaments, 
 The grace of motion, and the lovelier 
 Expression of her smiling face that beamed 
 As sunshine in the leafy days of June. 
 O month of joy and beauty, solace me ! 
 Thy youthful flowers bring rarest gifts to me : 
 Remembrance in thy violets of her eyes, 
 Remembrance in thy roses of her lips — 
 The sweet child-mouth, rare as a singing flower 
 That shed a fragrance, opening musical 
 At dawn and closed at twilight with a song. 
 O Nature ! pregnant with suggestions sweet 
 Of her, adorn my thoughts ; make fair my songs 
 With gentle scenes, remembered beautiful. 
 Of thine in passed days, when, on thy slopes, 
 And through thy woody dells, with summer blooms 
 Of wild flow'rs decked and pied, I roved the child. 
 
lO EROTHANATOS. 
 
 And had deep joy in thee that pleases now 
 The man of sorrow, grown up from the child, 
 But with his child-heart still ! Oh ! tune my verse 
 With childhood's poesie — the artless art 
 Unstudied, and best recompensed with tears — 
 That warbling flows, as when a wild bird sings, 
 Or sad, or glad, as the poor heart may be 
 That beats within, the pulse of joy or pain ! 
 
 O Nature ! aid, adorn, inspire the song 
 With opening buds and birds, with shine and shower 
 Through hill and dale, and ever let the breeze 
 Blow freshly through and odorous ; not harsh 
 As from the wracking seas, but soft as breath 
 Blown by Arcadian shepherds in their flutes. 
 And sad ; for this is still a song of Death. 
 The flowers and birds depart as seasons change. 
 The cheerful sun gives place to storm and rain. 
 How cheerless ! when the wintry wind loud roars 
 That bends the oak and beats the sapling down ; 
 And so, O heart ! love's summer fled from thee. 
 Its birds' and brooks' and breezes' harmonies. 
 And flowers and sunlight fled from thee, with Her, 
 
EROTHANATOS. 1 1 
 
 Nipped in the day when Love was young and fair 
 Thy life is one long sigh, one Autumn day 
 Unchanging in the heart, one sad, sad day 
 Of rain and moaning wind and rotting leaves ; 
 Decay despoils the hills, the woods, the plains, 
 And fields are humid with the smell of death. 
 
 O Soul, what pleasure is in living now ? 
 Thy Spring and Summer passed thee by, thy Youth 
 And Love evanished when the birds flew South, 
 But not with them return thy Love and Youth : 
 Lost Love and Youth return, alas, no more ! 
 When snow-drops, open-eyed, hear bluebirds sing, 
 Thy Love will waken not, nor sing to thee. 
 Nor hear thy footstep in the new-grown grass : 
 When Summer laughs and blushes in the fields, 
 Thy Love will neither laugh, nor blush for thee ; 
 The lilies on her grave will bend and weep, 
 And thou wilt sound thy sorrows to the winds ; 
 Thy Love knows not thy voice in woe or weal ; 
 She thrills not in her winding-sheet for thee. 
 Nor bursts again, like Spring, with flowers and 
 song, 
 
12 EROTHANATOS. 
 
 Through thy long years of sad autumnal days — 
 Lost Love and Youth return, alas, no more ! 
 
 To you I sing, dear mother of my loved, 
 And I bewail with you whose silent tears 
 Fall blighting on your cheeks, where Sorrow's 
 
 hand 
 Has set the ghostly roses of Despair, 
 That pale and paler fade with spectral grief, 
 As thought reverts to her — so lost ! so lost ! 
 Oh, the long hours ! the joyless eves and morns ! 
 Alas, the heavy heart that will not break ! 
 And oh ! the storms that shake this reed of life, 
 And hurricanes that smite, and yet nor rend ! 
 I see you walk the lonely house, so still ; 
 I know you pause and listen for a step 
 That will not sound forever on its floors ; 
 I bow with you and weep ; I hear you sob 
 When some frail relic of her careless hands, 
 Lost in a darkened corner, comes to light ; 
 I see you press it to your lips and heart, 
 And hear her soft name tremble in your voice, 
 As sad and dear as her remembered love. 
 
EROTHANATOS. 1 3 
 
 To you, this elegy of mournful thoughts, 
 Drawn from my contemplation of her death, 
 Who loved her stronger tha-n my weakness knew, 
 And deeper than I shall love evermore, 
 I dedicate, with sighs and many tears, 
 These songs of tribulation, these low sighs 
 Of weeping hopes within me, these desires 
 That flicker through my spirit's night, to be 
 A bright eternal star of righteousness, 
 Fixed blazing in the orbed deeps of love. 
 
 To you I dedicate this solemn song. 
 Attempt ambitious, with a beam of hope 
 To pierce the dark abysms of thought, to guide 
 Its dim ghosts o'er the towering crags of Doubt 
 Unto the land where Peace and Love abide. 
 Of flowers and streams, and sun and stars ; to lead 
 From haunted valleys of Despair and Pain, 
 And dismal dens where Death lives horrible, 
 Those spirits to the light and life of Hope, 
 So that with looking up they may aspire, 
 Aspiring, reach that pinnacle of Faith 
 Where inspiration gives the finer sight 
 
14 EROTHANATOS. 
 
 And sensibility that doth perceive 
 In poised firmaments the power of God — 
 Whose Intellect creates, sustains, absorbs — 
 And feel the throbbing movement of His Life, 
 The grand pulsating Heart of universe, 
 Well-spring of souls and immortalities. — 
 Celestial Origin ! in Thee we live 
 And rise sublime, eternally to soar 
 And shine, reflecting Thy magnificence ! 
 
 Love never lived but was the prey of Death ; 
 Life never loved that did not weep and mourn ; 
 Heart never thrilled with tenderness of Love 
 But it was sadly broken — ah, how soon ! 
 For flesh is liable to hurt and harm 
 Of bitter hate, mischance, neglect, and scorn 
 That crush out all its sweetness, and devote 
 Love's tender blossoms of fresh-springing hope 
 To spoiling blight that sears it leaf and bud. 
 But O Love ! Love ! despite all bitterness, 
 Despite all tearful sorrows and despairs. 
 Despite Death's ruin and the ravening grave — 
 Still touch my heart, O Love ! and sanctify 
 
EROTHANATOS. 1 5 
 
 My life with thy dear sorrow and sweet pain — 
 With thy divine, pure passion, that my soul. 
 Refined and chastened by thy power, may rise 
 On winged thoughts above the dread of Death, 
 And soar as far from man as near to God ! 
 Then Love and Sorrow, starry sisterhood, 
 And Pity, child of both, the tearful-eyed, 
 Abide with me in shadow and in shine. 
 To make my human sympathies as broad 
 As earth, as grand as life, as deep as Death ! 
 
 Alas ! among my brothers some there be 
 
 Who shudder at the thought of being hurled 
 
 To Madness through the gates of Grief ; therefore 
 
 They fear to love, lest love should bring them 
 
 pain, 
 And, hard as stones, their hearts are never sad ; 
 As thoughtless kine that stumble in the pits. 
 They fall and sleep in unremembered graves. 
 I would not change the kind and suffering heart 
 Of sympathy, that feels another's woe ; 
 Nor freeze the melting grief that through the eyes 
 Dissolves in flooding tears — I would not change 
 
l6 EROTHANATOS. 
 
 This nature for the purple of a king, 
 For fame nor empire over all the earth ! 
 
 I loved, but Sorrow came the guest of Love, 
 
 And she has overshadowed all my life ; 
 
 And in that shadow Love has fall'n asleep 
 
 Upon a dewy couch of asphodels, 
 
 And Death weeps over her distressed tears. 
 
 Oh, come ye mourners ! gather round and weep ; 
 
 Lament in sorry song ; she is no more. 
 
 Bring pansy, violet, and rue to deck 
 
 The altar of our grief ; sing sad the hymn 
 
 Of Death, the dirge of Love sing sad and low ; 
 
 Shed many tears upon the grassy mound ; 
 
 Strew flowers that smile in June, but dew with tears 
 
 Their scattered petals, for she is no more ! 
 
 She sleeps, the beautiful, the loved, the lost ; 
 
 Alas and woe, she will not waken more ! 
 
 Sigh ! prayerful lips, and pour ! dark eyes, your 
 
 floods 
 That are, as April winds and April rains 
 To Spring's green firstling sprouts, to this your seed 
 
EROTHANATOS. 1 7 
 
 Of Love, that from its earth-blown, flower took wing 
 
 When Death's chill winter froze its glowing life, 
 
 And rose, borne on the breath of God, to heaven, 
 
 To spring, for an eternal Summer's prime 
 
 Of bloom and beauty, in His ripened fields. 
 
 Your lamentation is not wasted here, 
 
 Nor useless tears are shed by them that weep ; 
 
 A heart, though darkly, silently it throbs 
 
 And breaks for grief, is not unknown of God, 
 
 And not unpitied of the hosts of heaven. 
 
 Then weep, and ever weep ! for not in vain 
 
 Your tearful tribute on celestial soil 
 
 Is shed ; it nourisheth this flower of love 
 
 That groweth strong, erect and beautiful : 
 
 Unto its leaves of young affection rare, 
 
 Your sighs are sweeter than the western winds 
 
 That wander coolly through earth's garden-plots 
 
 When sunny day relieves the parched fields. 
 
 And starry Evening holds the thirsting buds 
 
 To drink with open mouths delicious streams 
 
 Of cooling dew, poured from her generous urns. 
 
 Your sighs, like vesper-bells, melodious rise 
 
 Above the chiming seas, through peaceful skies 
 
1 8 EROTHANATOS. 
 
 Most beautiful, with singing stars of morn 
 
 And voiceless moon ; a winged air of love 
 
 That cheers your heavenly flower embowered in bliss, 
 
 And swoons upon its heart, made 'ware of you 
 
 And your inspired sorrowing that sweeps 
 
 In a sad voiceful strain from earth to heaven ; 
 
 As when a distant peal of organ pipes, 
 
 Singing the master-music of a soul 
 
 That loved and sorrowed, swells upon the ear 
 
 Of one in sleep ; straightway his soul becomes 
 
 Enravished of the sound, and loves and mourns 
 
 Divinely with intense and rapturous joy 
 
 That fills the spirit with a sense of pain 
 
 Sublime, and elevates and glorifies : 
 
 So your thoughts mournful penetrate the skies. 
 
 Your voice is heard and known, and so her soul 
 
 Is deeply moved and infinitely drowned 
 
 In floods of sympathy with all your woe. 
 
 Yet knows nor tears, nor ruth, nor passion's pain. 
 
 Aye ! ye may weep, for ever pain and grief 
 
 And torturing tears make havoc of your joys 
 
 On this vext earth ; but these disturb no more 
 
 When dust to dust has crumbled, when the heart 
 
EROTHANATOS. I9 
 
 In death rests calm and painless, when the soul 
 
 Leaves this corruptive body tenantless, 
 
 Unlovely in decay ; and, as a flame 
 
 That burns its coal to ashes, rises bright 
 
 And pure into ethereal elements, 
 
 And is resolved into the sphered skies, 
 
 And doth become a portion of all sense 
 
 And sound and sight perceptive, and all joy 
 
 Of spiritual being changeless, one 
 
 With God ; or of His firmaments a star, 
 
 Or of some vast new w^orld a minister 
 
 Of good, or agent, or intelligence. 
 
 Or of His heav'ns a winged inhabitant, 
 
 Or dweller in His Paradise of Souls. 
 
 For all our dreams are dim-remembered scenes 
 
 Of such existence ere the change of Birth, 
 
 Or are prophetic visions of such Life 
 
 Inherited beyond the change of Death. 
 
 Behold ! these sleep-translations of the Soul 
 Are not all idle dreams ; for lo ! we view 
 Heaven's soft, undazzling landscapes blooming fair 
 With dewy foliage of unfading green ; 
 
20 EROTHANATOS. 
 
 Immortal groves with music in their leaves, 
 
 And water-brooks where flowers that drop no buds 
 
 Shed odorous blessings on the lucid airs ; 
 
 Where winds sing vesper-lullabies divine ; 
 
 Where twilight never fades, and breathes sweet rest 
 
 And peace through darkling woods that seem to sleep 
 
 Serenely in their shadows. Fair beyond 
 
 Rise hills, slope dells and rivered valleys, all 
 
 Transmitted beautiful. O happy dreams ! 
 
 O blessed hopes, bright visions of the soul 
 
 Reflecting infinite light through infinite darkness ! 
 
 Ye stars upon the horizon of life ! 
 
 Celestial fires ! the outmost lamps of heaven, 
 
 That blaze through night to guide to perfect day 
 
 This Soul that rises darkly out of death, 
 
 And fearfully aspires to light and life 
 
 Above the empyrean, one with God ! 
 
 Still let us mourn the loved and beautiful. 
 The lovely and the dead ; still weep for her ! 
 Mourn that her eyes are dark, her heart is cold — 
 The eyes that shone, the heart that burned with love — 
 Weep for the eyes that cannot smile again. 
 
EROTHANATOS. 21 
 
 And fill Death's chamber with a wailing sound 
 Of woful singing, desolate and drear 
 As lorn winds sobbing through November woods ! 
 Weep o'er the grave of all your buried hopes, 
 And bring your lonely dying hearts to break 
 Above the relics of your perished love, 
 Low-mouldering in the hollow caves of Death. 
 
 But hush ! but hark ! let not thy purer grief 
 
 Decline to sin and selfishness of heart ! 
 
 Arise ! In solemn majesty of thought 
 
 Enjoy the solace of thy visioned mind 
 
 That views, beyond the shade of Death's eclipse. 
 
 The full-orbed splendor, Immortality ! 
 
 Our love for her grew up the fairest flower 
 That flourished in the gardens of our hearts ; 
 But Death frost-nipped the blooming buds, and sharp 
 The sapless roots twinge painful in their bed. 
 Still give bereavement voice, nor loud, nor harsh, 
 Commingling wrath with love's divine regret ; 
 God gave, and God hath taken — all is well ; 
 So be our sorrow such as ushers loss 
 
22 EROTHANATOS. 
 
 Religiously unto the change of Death, 
 And for its consolation looks beyond 
 The shadowy gates, above the firmament, 
 Where winged souls pursue their upward way, 
 Risen perfect from the chrysalis of Death. 
 
 Be our religious care the memory, 
 
 Our rites, commemoration of her love ! 
 
 Resign what Death has charnelled in his crypts, 
 
 And cherish only what was lovelier 
 
 Than her dear lineaments entombed and dead — 
 
 The spirit of the beauty of her soul ! 
 
 For Beauty cannot die — not that which is 
 
 The soul divine within the Beautiful ; 
 
 Although it pass from sight, or seem to change 
 
 Unlovelily, 'tis neither change nor loss. 
 
 But a transmission of its elements 
 
 Into a purer, grander, godlier sphere 
 
 Which is all beautiful and all divine ! 
 
 Death has no power upon the Beautiful ; 
 
 But its frail habitation may corrupt 
 
 When life departs that was its minister. 
 
 And leaves the corse a loathsome, loveless heap. 
 
EROTHANATOS. 23 
 
 This is its alteration — change of place , 
 
 In life and thought and light unchangeable 
 
 As the star-systems and their central suns. 
 
 All aspiration, all sublimest thought, 
 
 All sense of light and of harmonious sounds, 
 
 And awe, and exultation, and the joy 
 
 Of contemplating ocean and the sky, 
 
 And birth, and death, and the great mysteries 
 
 Of life, and all creation vast or fine 
 
 Are of this element, and dwell in it ; 
 
 For Beauty is both intellect and light, 
 
 God visible in all, and part of all, 
 
 Immortal life, and love, and loveliness. 
 
 Then, Soul, arise in thy glad morn of hope ! 
 Arise from thy dark dreams of deadly things — 
 From thy long vigils in the place of graves, 
 Thy solitary hours with Sorrow spent ! 
 Arise, and make thy faltering music heard. 
 If not by man, still in the fields and woods, 
 By quiet rivers, and by silent lakes, 
 'Mid rocks, ravines, and caves where echo dwells 
 And hears and answers sylvan sound for sound ! 
 
24 EROTHANATOS. 
 
 Still in the leafy haunts of solitude, 
 On mountain, or in valley, sing thy songs ! 
 Or on the ocean's wilderness of waves, 
 Alone, still chant to his deep organ tones 
 The melodies of thine own heart and life ! 
 Or in the sun, or rain, or storm, or calm. 
 On land or sea beneath, or moon, or stars. 
 Or driving clouds, or clear or misty night, 
 Or morn or noon, let still thy voice be heard 
 For Love's sake singing ever piteously, 
 Or rapt in exultations ! 
 
 Rise, my Soul, 
 And breathe thy lofty sorrow in grand thoughts 
 And exaltations of the. power of Love 
 O'er death and dying ! lift thy voice and sing 
 Of highest hope, inspired by the flight 
 Of thy dear love into the chartless depths 
 Of Universe, and follow, on plumed wings 
 Of contemplation, her involved path 
 Through the abysmal, uncreated void 
 Where germs and wrecks of worlds encumber Night, 
 To where the outer coasts, like emerald suns 
 
EROTHANATOS. 25 
 
 Of heav'n, blaze o'er the deeps, and splendoring 
 
 swing 
 In floods of their own light, to where the hills 
 Are crowned with the citadel of God, 
 Where crystal domes, inlain with ruby stars 
 And crescent suns, their dazzling firmaments 
 Expand, and thence unto the oracle. 
 And past the shrine, and through the winged doors 
 Into the presence of the Deity ! 
 
 But veil thy daring eyes — abide the time 
 Of thy departure patiently — return. 
 And touch the sadder shell ! O spirit, blow 
 Thy breath along soft reeds — the bird-like pipes 
 That treble low, and warble in wild-wood, 
 Or by bright stream a shepherd's holiday — 
 Make music sweet and simple as the brook's 
 Voice rural, babbling over sand and stones. 
 Or feathered songsters singing to the leaves* 
 Accompaniment of rustling melody 
 In tree-tops rocked by summer gusts of wind ; 
 Sing to the measures of the human heart. 
 Divine concord, of love, and life, and death ! 
 
26 EROTHANATOS. 
 
 For you, dear mother of my loved, I sing : 
 Oh ! take the song baptized with salt tears 
 That flow from my full heart through eyes grown 
 
 dim 
 With weariness of weeping and sad thoughts 
 Of her, thy child, and my peculiar love ; 
 Who, as the first flower of an early spring 
 That melts away in mists of April showers, 
 Rose laughing, then did languish and depart, 
 Our young delight dissolved in sudden tears. 
 Whiles seen to fade as we passed on to May 
 And June, to find no joy in all the bloom 
 Of Summer to acquit the grief of Spring — 
 Nor odorous rose through all the splendid months 
 To purge remembrance of the faint perfume 
 Of that first flower of Spring that haunts the year, 
 A ghost of memory passionless and pale. 
 
 So take this song, this first bud of my Spring, 
 So fraught with recollections of the loved 
 And dead one ; take it to your inmost heart. 
 And cherish its frail leaves that there may blow 
 And blossom in the warm light of your love. 
 
EROTHANATOS. 27 
 
 Though elsewhere blighted in the scornful blast 
 
 Of cold dispraise, or withered by neglect ; 
 
 Oh, take this child of nature to your breast ! — 
 
 If it must fade, still let it nestle there, 
 
 And there expire, to be remembered 
 
 With her in your fond mother thoughts alone ! 
 
28 EROTHANATOS. 
 
 From Death's dark spell and starless vault appalling, 
 What Love can rescue, or what life reclaim 
 
 thee ? 
 In vain, thou spirit beautiful, we name thee, 
 
 Beyond our last recalling. 
 
 Alas, the orbed light of beauty ! mortal 
 
 As thou, its splendid effluence filled and 
 
 brightened ; 
 Alas, paled star of love, thy lone beam light- 
 ened 
 Above Death's twilight portal ! 
 
 Alas, we sleepless ! and alas, thou sleeping 
 
 The dull and dreamless sleep, who wast our 
 
 gladness ! 
 Thou unresponsive or to joy, or sadness. 
 
 And we, distressed and weeping ! 
 
EROTHANATOS. 29 
 
 Thou canst not know the anguish of our waking 
 
 From pleasant dreams to think thee lifeless 
 
 lying : 
 Alas, the streaming eyes ! the painful sighing 
 
 That dooms our hearts to breaking ! 
 
 Thou canst not feel the agony, the burning, 
 
 The pangs, the bitterness of hopes consuming ; 
 Thy cheeks are hollow-pale, erst radiant- 
 blooming — 
 
 Thy bosom knows no mourning. 
 
 The grave's decay doth spread like snow-flakes o'er 
 thee, 
 White in thy lips, and through thy soiled hair 
 
 shaken 
 In drifts ; oh, thou shalt never start, and waken 
 To grieve that we deplore thee ! 
 
 The birds of every season sing above thee, 
 
 Blithe neighbors to thy doorless, narrow dwel- 
 ling ; 
 They flit about the carven tablet, telling 
 
 The stranger how we love thee. 
 
30 EROTHANATOS. 
 
 Their mirth disturbs not thee ; thy form reposes 
 
 So deep and peaceful, wliile loud winds chant 
 
 over, 
 And from the grass spring purple tufts of 
 clover, 
 And pansies, and wild roses. 
 
 Beside thy grave, what gentle eye were tearless ? 
 
 How gladly of life's burden would I shrieve 
 
 me, 
 And lay me down with thee, would Death re- 
 lieve me 
 Of days on-darkening cheerless. 
 
EROTHANATOS. 3 1 
 
 PART I. 
 
 What shall be said of thee since thou art dead, 
 Beloved ? since thou hast bowed thy queenly head 
 To throned Death ? since thou hast gone, and wed 
 The monarch of the grave ? — what shall be said ? 
 
 Dost know who kneels beside thee, coffined Clay . 
 Whose kisses warm thine ashen brow so gray 
 And damp and cold ? whose trembling fingers stray 
 Among thy ringlets — loved one, canst thou say ? 
 
 What spirit locks thy speech in her mute cell, 
 To hear — as ocean-echoes of a shell — 
 Its charmed music, like enchantment, swell 
 Upon her ravished ears, delectable ? 
 
 Oh ! such a voice was thine as called the flush 
 Of rapture to the cheek, when songful gush 
 Melodious brake — as sudden from a bush 
 Trills sweet and clear the unexpected thrush. 
 
32 EROTHANATOS. 
 
 But thy hushed lips can form no pleasant word, 
 Repeat no song surpassing wild-wood bird ; 
 No more thy notes, the sweetest ever heard, 
 Shall stir our heavy hearts as once they stirred. 
 
 For joy that was is pain, good changed to badness, 
 And sweet to bitter, and calm thought to madness, 
 And all our flowery ways that rung with gladness 
 Are blossomless and dumb with frost of sadness. 
 
 For Love is dead, and Life hath taken wing, 
 And Death, with faded leaves self-crowned king, 
 Doth stamp the season with his signet ring ; 
 And lo, all beauty darkly vanishing ! 
 
 O hapless Love ! O faithless Life ! O Death 
 That kissed the lips of Love with amorous breath ! 
 Seal, seal mine eyes with slumber, underneath 
 The snow to sleep till Love awakeneth ! 
 
 Ah me, the loneliness of hill and grove ! 
 A solitary man, I mournful rove 
 By tarn, and lowland lake, and haunted cove 
 Ah me, what joy in living without love ? 
 
EROTHANATOS. 33 
 
 Swift through the wood I flutter like a shade, 
 As noiseless as the shadows of the glade, 
 Till, of ray ghostliness grown half afraid, 
 I flee back to that chamber, where, arrayed 
 
 In blanched shroud, my loved one sleeps. The room 
 Is darkened ; but through its sepulchral gloom 
 I still perceive in her wan face the bloom 
 Of loveliness, too soon to grace the tomb. 
 
 And I can weep for thee, and I can wail. 
 And smite my breast and hollower cheeks, more pale 
 Than thine ; but can I save thee though I rail ? 
 And will my passion aught with Death avail ? 
 
 Ah no ! ah no ! with thy moist breath as soon 
 Expect to waken from eternal swoon 
 The corse to animation, or at noon 
 Command the sun to give place to the moon. 
 
 Ah no ; to loss thy stricken life inure ! 
 Thou mayst bewail, but thou must still endure ; 
 For grieving of the dead the only cure 
 Is death, whose medicine is swift and sure. 
 
34 EROTHANATOS. 
 
 Bereaved heart, and canst thou still contain 
 This rising flood of sorrow swoll'n with pain ? 
 Behold, thy Love lies low, and not again 
 To rise, or laugh, or weep— behold Love slain ! 
 
 Behold the pallid cheek, the closed eye ; 
 
 The parted lips, no more to make reply 
 
 Or question thee — break, heart ; in one wild cry 
 
 Of lamentation ease thine agony ! 
 
 What now remains of all thy blooming years 
 Of love ? A withered ghostly leaf that sears 
 Upon a sapless stem, and crackling veers 
 In sighing winds and beating rain of tears. 
 
 Thy flowers are dead ; thou weepest all alone 
 In thy late Autumn ; joy has come and gone 
 With fleeting Summer ; all glad birds have flown, 
 And left thee cheerlessly to sob and moan. 
 
 Weep, then, from dawn till dusk, from eve till morn ! 
 Weep at the bier of Love so thin, and worn, 
 And pale ! weep, for the funeral fires burn 
 In field and grove ! weep, as thou art forlorn ! 
 
EROTHANATOS. 35 
 
 For Love, fair Love the beautiful, is dead — 
 She lieth stark — and Nature, widowed, 
 Dons sack-cloth, heaping ashes on her head 
 And groveling in the dust, her winter bed. 
 
 And oh ! to sleep with her, and oh ! to be 
 Folded in Love's cold arms all peacefully, 
 And oh ! to wee-p no more, and oh ! to see 
 No more of death, or pain, or misery ! 
 
 My Love is dead ; her heart is cold and still ; 
 I touch her cheeks — no more a rapturous thrill 
 Of life inspires the blush, nor blue eyes fill 
 With gleeful fires ; her face is dank and chill. 
 
 I gaze into those sightless orbs, once fair. 
 But no soft-glancing light of love beams there ; 
 Instead, a vacancy, a stony stare 
 Expressionless, that haunts me to despair. 
 
 I turn away, o'erwhelmed with maddening grief — 
 Out in the storm, .and, helpless as a leaf 
 Whirled in the tempest merciless and deaf, 
 I plead for consolation and relief. 
 
36 EROTHANATOS. 
 
 I seek the ocean ; but its thundrous roar 
 
 Of billows breaking on the cragged shore, 
 
 Its salt spray on my lips, doth vex the more 
 
 My desperate thoughts the dead preyed on before. 
 
 The tumult adds confusion to my woe : 
 I long to leap where yon black billows flow, 
 And, as I shudder darkly to and fro, 
 I fear my toppling reason's overthrow. 
 
 Far seaward now in fearful gaze I strain 
 Mine eyes : a ship is battling there in vain 
 Through cleaving tide and clamorous hurricane, 
 Then plunges dowm, all foundered in the main. 
 
 Alas ! the barque will never more emerge 
 From that deep grave, her winged course to urge 
 On foreign voyage or homeward. — O'er the surge 
 That swallowed them I shriek the seamen's dirge : 
 
 ** All buried in the sea, and deeply drowned. 
 Ye sleep, ye mariners, in deathly swound : 
 All wrapped in ocean-weeds, ye slumber sound. 
 Dead as my hopes that perished homeward bound. 
 
EROTHANATOS. 37 
 
 '' And oh, alas, the cruel, cruel cost 
 Of loving ! Oh, my wrecked heart, tempest tost 
 And sunken in despair, Death's storm-wind crost 
 Thy galleon's path, and all I loved was lost ! 
 
 ''All deeply drowned, and buried in the sea. 
 Sleep well, ye mariners that ship-wrecked be ! 
 The dirge I sing for w^hat was lost to me 
 By heart-wreck, on Life's ocean suddenly.'* 
 
 Oh ! Death lurked in the tides when, sailing past, 
 My barque of love sped merrily and fast, 
 And, storming up before, he drave a blast 
 That shattered carven hull and bannered mast. 
 
 And where that barque went down, no trace was left 
 To mark that it had been : the Sea, bereft 
 Of that fair burden, moaned through many a cleft 
 Among his isles, and sobbed o'er many a drift 
 
 Of shell-strewn sandy beach, while evermore 
 
 His waves beat ceaseless down the lonely shore ; 
 
 For his glad days of happiness are o'er 
 
 When Love's barque glode his laughing winds before. 
 
38 EROTHANATOS. 
 
 O Death, that smote my Love in mid career, 
 My barque of hope that sailed without a fear ! 
 What wrecks hast thou engulfed this many a year 
 Of tempests darkening thy long reign severe ! 
 
 Behold ! in deep sea-caves the piled swarms 
 Innumerable of ships in olden storms 
 Long lost, and, scattered round, the fleshless forms 
 Of crews whose ribs cradle the young sea-worms. 
 
 Lo, decked with viny weeds, in watery alle3^s. 
 The high-beaked prows of ancient pleasure -galleys, 
 And, brimmed with bitter ooze, the jewelled chalice 
 That flowed with love-pledged wines in southern 
 valleys ! 
 
 And there the limb-locked lovers still recline 
 'Mid ocean flowers that blossom in the brine. 
 Enclasped as when of old, with beaming eyne, 
 They mingled and were one in love divine ; 
 
 What time, wan Death ! thy 'whelming whirlwind 
 
 smote 
 Their lamps with darkness, and their swirling boat 
 
EROTHANATOS. 39 
 
 Sunk down the abysm, never more to float, 
 Or dance unto the piping south wind's note. 
 
 Above thy stony charnels I have kept 
 Long vigils of deep musing : I have crept 
 Among thy vaults, and over them that slept — 
 Interred unknown, unhonored — I have wept. 
 
 Strange thoughts of these my dreamful hours have 
 
 nourished ; 
 I lived with them in fellowship and flourished 
 Ages agone ; their young ambitions cherished, 
 And loved, and scorned, grew old with them, and 
 
 perished. 
 
 I seemed to hear, as well-remembered tones. 
 Their laughters, and their sobs and dying groans ; 
 Meanwhile, deciphering their funeral stones, 
 I trod the aged layers of mouldered bones. 
 
 O Death, how varied and how rich thy spoils ! 
 Thy breath the ripened grain with mildew soils ; 
 Thy swift feet crush the hills, whence wines and oils 
 Were plenteous, and make vain the peasant's toils. 
 
40 EROTHANATOS. 
 
 Thy dread, invisible, and murderous foot 
 Treads out thy vintage from the crushed fruit 
 Of life — the heart of man, that, like a lute, 
 Sings joyous, thou delightest to make mute. 
 
 And Beauty, young and fair, with loving eyes. 
 Adorning Youth as stars in twilight skies 
 Adorn the heav'ns, is borne a ravished prize 
 To thy black altar's gloomy sacrifice. 
 
 Thy shade eclipses and thy touch annuls 
 Our starry thoughts as thy invasion dulls 
 The intellect ; thy deadly poison lulls 
 To sleep the Powers dethroned in our skulls — 
 
 These temples that enshrine the god-like gift 
 Of Genius, strong with daring thoughts that drift 
 And dazzle on the dark, till through the rift 
 Of reason inspiration streams, to lift 
 
 The Soul's exalted vision, and then flashes 
 The lightning, revelation, and it dashes 
 The mind with wisdom's fearful fires, till crashes 
 Thy dread bolt, and we shiver into ashes. 
 
EROTHANATOS. 4I 
 
 Freedom's grand commonwealths and Slavery's 
 
 thrones 
 Avow thee equal Lord with tears and groans ! 
 With graves thou hast intrenched all the zones — 
 The continents are crumbled dust of bones. 
 
 The mountain and the plain, the stream that laves 
 His shores, the land, the vaster sea that paves 
 His treacherous tides with blue and smiling waves, 
 Are thine, and hide innumerable graves. 
 
 Men rise and fall, and generations sweep 
 As surge on surge, from darkling deep to deep. 
 And leave no trace to mark wherefrom they leap, 
 Or whither tend, or where they sink to sleep. 
 
 We but exist between the mysteries 
 Of life and death, and all that vision sees 
 We understand not ; all our faculties 
 Assert in vain stupendous theories. 
 
 We know we are ; but what, we cannot know, 
 And why, 'twere vain to guess ; we thrive and grow 
 In pride, we vaunt our power and wealth, when lo 1 
 Death, and the grave's eternal overthrow ! 
 
42 EROTHANATOS. 
 
 Nor worth avails, nor beauty, nor the breath 
 Of pleading prayer, nor love that travaileth 
 With unborn joy, nor virtue without scath 
 Avails to win an hour's respite of Death ; 
 
 Else her I mourn with ever- rankling smart, 
 The Virgin beautiful, with tearful art 
 Of love had charmed thy poison-barbed dart, 
 And touched to kindness thy remorseless heart. 
 
 Insatiate, must thou ever flood and stain 
 With innocent blood of the untimely slain 
 Thy reeking altars ? must thou still maintain 
 Tyrannic conquest, and all life enchain ? 
 
 And still bold youth and timid maid must shrink 
 Upon thy yawning grave's disastrous brink, 
 With driveling Age to dreadly plunge, must drink 
 The Lethean wave, and coldly, deeply sink ? 
 
 Thou hast oppressed the earth from age to age, 
 The doomed earth, through Sin thy heritage ; 
 Oh ! thou hast writ thy record's fearful page 
 With blood of King and Poet, Priest and Sage ! 
 
EROTHANATOS. 43 
 
 And helplessly lie broken at thy feet 
 The noblest hearts of men that ever beat 
 With wisdom, truth, and song, and valor's heat, 
 And woman's; framed for love, however sweet. 
 
 Our feasts are spread for thee with bread and wine : 
 The hand that brims the cup, the eyes that shine 
 With fervor's fire, the maidenly divine, 
 The pure, the beautiful, all, all are thine. 
 
 The minstrel, as of battle-fields he sings. 
 And glories of old knights and Avarrior kings 
 And ladies fair, swoons o'er the orphaned strings, 
 And never more his wild harp's music rings. 
 
 Thy fingers clutch the jester in his mirth, 
 The scorner in his scorns — oh, what of worth 
 And learning sparest thou ? Ah, there is dearth 
 Of heart in thee, Malignity of earth ! 
 
 Thou stealest like a frost, and silentness 
 Dwells chilling in the cheek thy hands depress ; 
 And where thy wing waves dark and cumberless, 
 The affrighted soul of Beauty vanishes. 
 
1 
 
 44 EROTHANATOS. 
 
 Thy face we know not, nor thy form of limb — 
 Thou mayst be glorious as the cherubim — 
 But oh ! thy handiwork is ghastly, grim. 
 And loveless are the eyes thou makest dim. 
 
 From nothing beautiful canst thou withhold ; 
 The meadow-daisy dieth in the cold. 
 And youth, and maid, and dame, and patriarch old 
 Decline to thy infections manifold. 
 
 We cannot, dread One, baffle thy delight 
 In ruining the fairest with thy blight ; 
 Thou stingest like a viper day and night, 
 And loveliness evanishes from sight. 
 
 But this is not the end of Beauty's bloom, 
 And Love expands in light beyond the gloom 
 Of thy confinement, passing to relume 
 The spirit dimly rising from the tomb. 
 
 Beauty and Love, whatever changes be, 
 Exist twin heirs of immortality. 
 And with the Soul — celestial Trinity — 
 Out-soar the planets and escape from thee. 
 
EROTHANATOS. 45 
 
 So, Death, thy triumph is alone the scars, 
 The flesh untenanted, the gloom that bars 
 The eyes, and wormy white decay that mars 
 The cheeks : the soul must still survive the stars. 
 
 Then why these burning tears and pangs within, 
 O grief-embittered spirit ? Wouldst thou win 
 Release of memory from what hath been 
 Thy holier joy through tempting years of sin ? 
 
 Nay ! bury her, and hush the woful clang 
 Of hollow bells ; the dear remembrance hang 
 In thy heart's temple of the songs she sang, 
 The words she spake, the girlish laugh that rang. 
 
 And darken not thy home, O Soul, with wrath — 
 Let in the sunshine lest dark passion scath 
 Thy life's thin walls ! God builded thee, and hath 
 All right to pluck thee or thine from His path. 
 
 He shaped this spotless maiden for love's sake ; 
 He touched her petal eyelids till, awake, 
 Her blue eyes pierced thy soul; but if He make 
 Superior loveliness, shall He not break ? 
 
46 EROTHANATOS. 
 
 O Silence, kiss these lips ! O heart, inurn 
 
 Thine ashes of regret, and mutely yearn 
 
 For calmness — practise speech of prayer— aye, burn 
 
 Incense — and reverent acquiescence learn ! 
 
 Flow, Grief, and so thy channel deeper wears 
 Within and murmurs not, draw all these tears 
 To quench my burning heart ; for hope that sears. 
 And pain that blooms, are mine through fruitless years. 
 
 We dwell not here together, Soul of me. 
 These changing years — ephemera that see 
 A summer day's delight, and end — nay ! we 
 Must face harsh winters for eternity. 
 
 We plant with sweat, and labor in the croft 
 For harvest while the sun and moon are soft ; 
 We dream of fruits autumnal, but how oft 
 To reap that vanity the Preacher scoft. 
 
 My tearful sister, haggard Misery, 
 Thou hapless nun ! abide and mourn with me, 
 Beseeching Heaven that thou and I may see 
 Christ's Grail, and drink a draught from it, may be ; 
 
EROTHANATOS. 47 
 
 And, in the rapture of celestial vision, 
 
 Behold the end of our unhappy mission 
 
 On earth, and thenceforth hold Death in derision, 
 
 Knowing we pass the grave to life Elysian. 
 
 Nor shall we doubt again, and where we tript 
 Nor stumble more ; but clasp the faith that slipt, 
 Unfalteringly — for Cross, and Shrine, and Crypt 
 Blazon the Cup 'tis legended He lipt. 
 
 When we are shaken with the sudden grief 
 Of losing one whose life we deemed not brief, 
 Jehovah ! minister to our relief. 
 Who grovel in despair and unbelief. 
 
 We would invoke Thy name ; yet in the blast 
 Of self-contempt stand mute, and see Love cast 
 Deep in the charnel-house, and we go past 
 In madness sobbing : " God, is this the last ? " 
 
 Nay, nay, my Soul ! this shallow brain did rave 
 With sceptic thoughts that overwhelmed, and drave 
 Thy Reason into bondage where, a slave. 
 She dreampt that Love was vanquished at the grave. 
 
48 EROTHANATOS. 
 
 She heard the whisperings of many a ghost 
 That sagely lied; but they misled her most 
 That spake the text upon her chains embossed : 
 " The dead are earth of earth and ever lost ! " 
 
 For oh ! what heart that ever felt Love's rare, 
 Divine, immortal spell, would, impious, dare, 
 Above this form, with wailing of despair 
 Cry out : *' My Love is dead and endeth there ! " ? 
 
 When through thy mind — as doth a foul wind blow 
 Up dismal cloud and flood — false teachings flow. 
 That drench Truth's sacred lights, and overthrow 
 Religion, thou art wrecked in seas of woe. 
 
 Wide, deep as chaos, are those waters rolled 
 
 In starless, stormy tides that break in cold, 
 
 Fierce floods, and night prevails; and quenching mould 
 
 Encrusts the lamps all shattered in thy hold. 
 
 And cry out in thy pride : " Peace, peace, be still ! " 
 And tell your heathen maxims o'er, until 
 The tower of Reason crumble ; all your skill 
 Soothes not that raging sea — and never will ! 
 
EROTHANATOS. 49 
 
 Then turn in your last stronghold, when the sleet 
 Drives stinging to your blood, when round your feet 
 The surges roar, and cry : " Oh ! comfort, sweet 
 Philosophy ! " in face of your defeat. 
 
 And vaunt of intellect, tliat grinds beneath 
 Her heels the myths of gods, that conquereth 
 The universe, expounds its laws, and saith, 
 *' Am /not God ? " then falls the prey of Death. 
 
 Alas ! the voiceless spirit of the grave, 
 Who wraps the shrouded dead in her damp cave, 
 Nor sighs, nor sobs, nor answers us who wave 
 Imploring arms, and knowledge of her crave. 
 
 Alas ! all lovely flesh decay hath torn. 
 
 Alas ! the midnight, and alas ! the morn 
 
 That gilds our follies^ — passion, hate, and scorn — 
 
 Alas, my Soul ! that ever we were born. 
 
 The stars are blazing in the midnight — come. 
 My Soul, and walk abroad with me ; thy numb, 
 Sad spirit must be quickened ! in the sum 
 Of universe what art thou ? — peace, be dumb ! 
 
50 EROTHANATOS. 
 
 Behold the cloudless night ! when thou hast traced 
 It limitless, consider what a waste 
 Of travailing is grief. The Power that placed 
 Those firmaments the fall of her embraced. 
 
 And gaze until the young flame of the morn 
 Burns golden in the East, and darkness, shorn 
 Of all her stars, fades in the West, forlorn, 
 And sunlight tips with fire heaven's outmost bourn. 
 
 Then cry, sweet sunshine, pity, pity me ! 
 And woods, and meadows, clouds, and flowers, and sea. 
 Smile pleasing ! sing, birds, in the leafy tree, 
 And help me to break bond with Misery ! 
 
 The night is dead ; oh ! let this die, of mine. 
 That wears my life out ; pour on me Thy wine 
 Of gladness, and my Soul shall spread and shine, 
 A reliquary rich with gems of thine. 
 
 I drink the cup of sorrow to the lees 
 Of pain — I drain the dregs — oh ! give me peace, 
 Great God ! as night's oppressive shadow flees. 
 My Soul from Desperation's gloom release ! 
 
EROTHANATOS. 5 1 
 
 Sky-fallen Star, that inward glows and gleams, 
 Divine infusion, dropped from heaven that seems, 
 Guide thou to us our spirit loves in dreams. 
 Transpierce us with their beautiful eye-beams ! 
 
 Ravish our eyes with beauty, and our ears 
 With lavish music ! startle these wan fears 
 Of ours with lustral suns, until appears 
 God's glory, breaking on us from the spheres ! 
 
 Inspire us with the sound of harps ! the beat 
 Of rolling timbrels tuning the swift feet 
 Of marching angels, till we rise and greet 
 Celestial Love in conversation sweet ! 
 
 In vain ! I close the lids of weary eyes 
 
 On throbbing, sightless balls, and from the skies 
 
 Nor light, nor music floats ; my spirit lies 
 
 Like withered leaves o'er which November sighs. 
 
 I walk knee-deep in snow ; the north winds steal 
 Along my bones how keenly, and I feel 
 A thousand pricking pains like hail-stones reel 
 Against my heart, where ghostly church-bells peal. 
 
52 EROTHANATOS. 
 
 The .wintry blast roars from the sky of gray, 
 The pale huge drifts are blown up ev'ry way, 
 And shrill the pines, like drivelling seers who say 
 *' Thus do earth's beauties vanish day by day." 
 
 Ice in the lands, and lands of ice at sea ; 
 Cold in the clouds, but colder is in me 
 Griefs season, wild as northland winters be- 
 My Soul snow-bound, a-chill with agony. 
 
 All in a frozen shroud my dead love lies. 
 And over her low head the loud wind cries. 
 Shrieking her funeral dirge that swells and dies 
 Above the barren fields in the bare skies. 
 
 No glow of cottage lights afar or near 
 Invites me home ; no welcome hearth or cheer ; 
 No friend to clasp my hand ; no spot so dear 
 As this snow-heaped mound forsaken here. 
 
 Beat, beat, dark winter, on the wanderer's head. 
 Assail his heart till its last drop is bled ; 
 Smite the dim eyes till their last tear is shed. 
 And slay him where he weeps above his dead ! 
 
EROTHANATOS. 53 
 
 Only the winds endure the cold, and go, 
 Like icy demons, chanting through the snow ; 
 The earth and sky are mute with frost, and so 
 Men's hearts are stiff with pride as mine with woe. 
 
 Be quiet, earth, one moment, and ye bleak, 
 Hoarse winds sing low — for Sorrow's sake be meek — 
 And I will place against her grave my cheek. 
 And feel a tremor if she thrill or speak ! 
 
 She lieth still, white-sheeted in a corner 
 Of her low cell, where Death's slow wear hath worn her 
 To thinness, and her bosom is forlorner 
 Of warmth than mine, who wander here and mourn 
 her. 
 
 O black and freezing night ! O bitterness 
 Of spoiled life, and grief, to wild excess 
 Torturing my heart ! wound me till I know less 
 Than no man of Love's sorrow and distress ! 
 
 O scourging willow-branches, bend and break ! 
 Nor groan above the dead, lest they awake 
 Disturbed, and their transmuting bodies shake 
 To atoms, slow as snow-fall, flake on flake. — 
 
54 EROTHANATOS. 
 
 Or does the Lord of silence reign o'er them 
 In sceptred peace ? doth dreamless rest contemn 
 Sensation ? then the church-yard hides a gem 
 To dig for ; — seek ! and who finds not, condemn. 
 
 Dishevelled willows, lash and howl and strain ! 
 You only rasp my griefs harmonious pain 
 With discord, for they heed nor wind, nor rain, 
 Secure from storms that shall not harm again. 
 
 The roots of flow^ers distribute sap like myrrh 
 Among them, odorous, and if they stir. 
 It is the heart's love-instincts that recur 
 To memories of pansies. Down by her 
 
 Blow all the gladd'ning flowers of Summer ; light 
 Green vines envelop her, and bluebells bright 
 Conceal the darkened eyes they matched ; and right 
 Against her cheek droop roses red and white. 
 
 The fire of youthful blood must linger there, 
 So warmly it compels those roots to share 
 A summer glow, and woos them, blooming rare, 
 To clasp her form and cluster in her hair. 
 
EROTHANATOS. 55 
 
 No ruffling din descends of joy or woe 
 
 To startle those inhabitants, I know ; 
 
 But there the murmurous streams that deeply flow 
 
 Create perpetual music, sweet and low. 
 
 The sun beams not on them in all his round, 
 Nor tremulous glow of moon or stars is found ; 
 Still virginal beauty dw^ells in flowers and sound 
 Where young hearts gather, even under ground. 
 
 And they dissolve in perfumes, such as cling 
 Where sweet-briar twines to any crumbling thing ; 
 Their bodies clad in garlands, as when Spring 
 Doth screen with life Death's hideous ruining. 
 
 Conceive them not as humid flesh that breeds 
 Foul worms ; but nuns in lodges where no beads 
 Are told, and cloistered hermits whom Time heeds 
 No more — aye, clad in isolation's weeds. 
 
 The sun, in sailing West, his course hath taken 
 Through deeps of cloudless blue ; the hills, forsaken. 
 Are silent as the snow, while I awaken, 
 As desolate as they, but sorrows-shaken. 
 
56 EROTHANATOS. 
 
 There breathes from all a quiet when winds keep 
 From blowing, and the drifted white is deep 
 In hedge and wood and gorge, on plain and steep, 
 That is not mine who fret and pine and weep. 
 
 Low in the West, beyond the landscape drear, 
 How glorious sunset's fiery beams appear ! 
 But my sad heart frames for my latest year 
 A sunless, stormy twilight, more severe. — 
 
 Without, or evening star of roseate beam, 
 Or crescent moon of silvery rayed gleam ; 
 And wind and drenching rain will best beseem, 
 And rushing storm, and lightning's lurid stream. 
 
 But lo ! the winter flies ; the dusky pine 
 Is tipped with emerald buds, and cedars shine 
 In youthful green — oh Parent-Love divine. 
 Beget new feelings in this breast of mine ! 
 
 Breathe on my Spirit, thou life-giving Power ! 
 Awake Love's buried seeds as with a shower 
 Of April rain, and all my heart this hour 
 Shall swelling break, and blossom into flower ! 
 
EROTHANATOS. 57 
 
 I hear the bluebirds singing from the thorn, 
 I see their pinions flashing through the morn ; 
 O winged Peace and Joy that fled, forlorn. 
 Last Autumn, with these birds and buds return ! 
 
 O fly, thou haunting Sorrow ! On glad wing 
 To clothe the naked world, creative Spring 
 Revives the year, and flowers awakening 
 Rejoice : so thou, my Spirit, rise and sing ! 
 
 Read in the new-born grass a hope ; Vv^hat we 
 Miscalled dead was slumbering quietly, 
 To wake in loveliness ; by this sign she. 
 More beautiful, hath risen to fairer be. 
 
 Sing ! for the sun is golden overhead, 
 
 And violets are blue, and looses red 
 
 As ever ; sing in praise of God who spread 
 
 The skies, and gave thee memory of thy dead ! 
 
 Sing with the babbling brook that joyous cleaves 
 
 His bubbling way, where many a blossom weaves 
 
 And trailing bloom of vines, and sparkling heaves 
 
 Among his flags and dripping alder leaves. 
 3* 
 
58 EROTHANATOS. 
 
 Oh, sing with all the birds that breast the air, 
 And twitter in the wood, and woo, and pair ! 
 Oh, sing that lilacs blow so many and fair, 
 And burn Spring's incense on the balmy air ! 
 
 Lie in the fields and watch the clouds float by, 
 And think how deep the sea, and heaven how high ; 
 What vast intent hath God in us, and why 
 Hath He crowned man with Reason's dignity ? 
 
 The ocean reasons not, nor infinite air. 
 
 And space — where planets blaze, and meteors glare 
 
 On suns and starry systems — hath no share 
 
 In thought : to us is given what lacketh there ; 
 
 To think. The Spirit of God within us lies, 
 And is the action, thought ; by this we rise 
 To knowledge, reasoning, while He supplies 
 The vision and the star-lamps to our eyes. 
 
 O gentle Love ! with pillowed head so deep 
 
 In earth where darkness is, 'tis I who creep 
 
 Above thee in the summer grass, to weep 
 
 For thee. Love, where they've laid thee low to sleep. 
 
EROTHANATOS. 59 
 
 'Tis not the south wind all alone that sighs 
 Above thee, nor the dew and showery skies 
 That wet thy mould, where he that loved thee lies 
 In prostrate sorrow, and with tearful eyes- 
 
 Thy tenderness, thy loveliness no more 
 Shall gladden my sad soul ; the days are o'er 
 When kisses warmed these lips, and friendship wore 
 A smile that thrilled my inmost bosom's core. 
 
 No little hand to press and fondle mine, 
 No soft blue eyes like quiet stars to shine 
 Regretfully, or pleading ; left to pine, 
 I find no love to live in place of thine. 
 
 No smile, no voice like thine, no face so fair, 
 No joy with so much sympathy to share. 
 No kindness, truth, no innocence so rare, 
 No heart so pure and gentle anywhere. 
 
 Beneath wild grass and flowers sleep ! I wake 
 And w^atch them drink the dewy winds that shake 
 Their buds and leaves; thou bad'st them blow to make 
 Me think of thee, and kiss them for thy sake. 
 
6o EROTHANATOS. 
 
 Lie still, my Love ; the ever-varying year 
 Leaves me unchanged ; forgetful flowers may sear 
 And go — I still remember thou wert dear ; 
 Thy tablet is my heart, thy name is here ! 
 
 I view sweet blossoms fading every day, 
 Their spirits rising odorous from decay ; 
 I think their loveliness must pass away 
 To where thou art, more beautiful than they. 
 
 And where thy spirit is, in what dim place. 
 Or bright, I know not ; but my soul shall trace 
 Thee out, and know the brightness of thy face, 
 And call thy name, and meet thee, and embrace. 
 
 Oh, once again to feel her arms enfold 
 
 My neck, to hear that voice so sweet of old ! 
 
 Oh, once again to kiss her cheek, or hold 
 
 The pulseless hand in mine, though dead and cold ! 
 
 To cherish what remained of her that day, 
 
 When her eyes closed their poor lids, wan and gray ; 
 
 Though but to watch her beauty fade away, 
 
 Still lovely in the pallor of decay. 
 
EROTHANATOS. 6l 
 
 Oh, sweet and mournful memory of my dead ! 
 'Tis dear and gentle grief that bows my head ; 
 Regret, through all my life, is perfume shed 
 Of bloomed hopes Death crushed with stilly tread. 
 
 'Tis not a pagan sorrow, groping blind 
 Through godless ways where only rain and wind 
 Sob ever ; but religious grief resigned, 
 That dwells in twilight skies, subdued and kind. 
 
 The Southern winds, in blowing from the sea, 
 Now stir the grass, and rustle in the tree. 
 So like faint footfalls, that they startle me — 
 No, no, but thou art dead ; it is not thee ! 
 
 Thou wakest not from out thy dreamy years, 
 Thy footstep on the earth no mortal hears, 
 Thy voice shall never charm our listening ears, 
 Thine eyes weep none, nor ever view our tears. 
 
 The winds may sound along the sea and shore 
 Their subtle music, still repeating o'er 
 Wild harmonies that soften the sea's roar, — 
 But thy voice wakens melody no more. 
 
62 EROTHANATOS. 
 
 The bluebird piping high on azure wing, 
 The robins' and the thrushes' carolling, 
 Though joyous, touch my memory's saddest string 
 That throbbed exultant when I heard thee sing. 
 
 And yet on them my pleased fancy dotes 
 Not idly, for their song-inflated throats 
 Enchant my soothed spirit till it floats 
 Enraptured, as by thine own sweetest notes. 
 
 Forests and fields are blooming, and, between. 
 Rivers run bright, and wild-flowered slopes are seen, 
 And earth seems beautiful in living green, — 
 But not with that same splendor that hath been. 
 
 There's something that we miss, which brightened day, 
 That in the flower and sparkling leaf was gay. 
 That beams not now; the ripening summers stay, — 
 But what adorned them most has passed away. 
 
 The love that lit the skies, and seemed to rain 
 A glory on the world, from hill and plain 
 Has vanished, and we sadly look in vain 
 For the lost light that shall not shine again. 
 
EROTHANATOS. 63 
 
 But where thy risen Soul is, and where mine 
 
 Shall rise and mix eternally with thine, 
 
 There I shall see, in firmaments divine, 
 
 That glory, erst glad earth's, more glorious shine. 
 
 Resplendent suns and never-waning moons 
 Shall rule alternate midnights and midnoons; 
 The days and nights be passed like pleasing tunes, 
 And years be cycles of returning Junes. 
 
 The plumage of the warbling birds shall vie 
 With blade and flower and leaf and stormless sky; 
 The wind shall blow not strong, but, fragrant, sigh 
 Through groves and fields where never shrub shall die. 
 
 O'er all the fadeless meadows we shall rove. 
 Through echoing hills, with choiring angels move. 
 And reign, supreme all blissful joys above. 
 In palaces of peace, star-crowned with love. 
 
 Thou hearest now the voices of the kings 
 Of earth's dead singers ; spacious heaven rings 
 With viols and the harps' unequalled strings. 
 While seraphs pause to list on charmed wings. 
 
64 erothanatOs. 
 
 Oh, hark ! I seem to hear the startling tones 
 Melodious, echoed from the stellar zones ! 
 Oh, glory, flesh! thy deathless tenant owns 
 A voice to sing in heaven, a place on thrones. 
 
 And love is all the motive it contains — 
 Its altar-fire that sparkles, and disdains 
 The fuel lust that maddens, and enchains 
 The soul to ruinous and endless pains. 
 
 Love is the grand religion that adorns 
 Its gentle faith, that worships when it mourns. 
 That praises when it weeps — not given to scorns — 
 And wears its grief as Christ the crown of thorns. 
 
 O Love ! I wander by the midnight sea 
 
 Consumed with burning thoughts of death and thee ; 
 
 My Spirit seems to soar exultingly 
 
 To Heaven — O Love, dead Love, commune with me ! 
 
 Come, while the moon her golden shadow dips 
 In the dark waves, ere night to morning slips ! 
 Come, Spirit, as this silent dew that drips 
 Along the Southern wind, and kiss my lips ! 
 
EROTHANATOS. 65 
 
 Come in what shape or sound thou lovest best, 
 What pulse of motion, or what sense of rest. 
 What cloud, or nebulous light, in East or West, 
 And I shall feel thy presence in my breast ! 
 
 My heart shall beat recurring measures, glad 
 As when of old I met thee, ere thy sad 
 Departure, when thy face such beauty had 
 That I, for joy of thee, went almost mad. 
 
 I'll hail what medium thy soul employs ; 
 I'll know thee in a zephyr's plaintive noise. 
 And dwell upon the music of thy voice. 
 How faint or low, and, greeting thee, rejoice. 
 
 Let silence bring you, or the thunder's jar — 
 In what evinces life or love you are ; 
 A shell washed up, a perfume from afar, 
 A sighing wind, or mist, or falling star. 
 
 I linger on the strand, and, thoughtfully. 
 Behold the red moon, level with the sea, 
 Fade down the West — and still recurs to me 
 The memory of that light gone out with thee. 
 
66 EROTHANATOS. 
 
 The moon declines beyond the gloomy wave, 
 Her last beam bright as her first rising gave ; 
 And so, dear Love, though young, undimmed and 
 
 brave. 
 Thy life set in the death-gloom of the grave. 
 
 Sweet earth her blessed motherhood resumes, 
 And buds leap laughing from her million wombs ; 
 The slow winds are o'erladen with perfumes 
 Of opening field-flowers and full apple-blooms. 
 
 The infant corn a leaved youth attains, 
 The young wheat promises abundant grains, 
 And rising rivers, fed with frequent rains, 
 Dash from the hills and wash the sunny plains. 
 
 I cross the clover-field, and seek the shade 
 Of elms beneath the hill where I have strayed 
 How often, when sad thoughts of her betrayed 
 My peace, and mournfully have wept and prayed. 
 
 I love the dark elm-shadows, cool as night 
 And dewy at mid-noon ; I love the bright 
 Green fields I see, and, far beyond, the white, 
 Sharp village spire a-tremble in the light. 
 
EROTHANATOS. 6/ 
 
 The blackbird whistles in the corn and wheat, 
 And pleased, the blooming landscape mine eyes greet 
 With welcome, while around me, moist-eyed, sweet, 
 Blue violets are peeping at my feet. 
 
 I hear the village children's voices ring 
 Gleefully out, mid-summer welcoming ; 
 Through bush and glade, in happy pairs they sing, 
 And learn their first of love black-berrying. 
 
 O maiden laughers, boyish lovers, this 
 Is love's glad prime ! I know the charmed bliss 
 Enrapturing your hearts, and what it is, 
 Alas, to miss the love ! to lose the kiss ! 
 
 But ye are children, and love only seems 
 An azure day, flowers, laughter and sunbeams, 
 And soft caresses — these are only gleams 
 Of memory that sadden my lone dreams. 
 
 Shout, children, in the joy of youthful years ! 
 Sing your love-songs while still your love appears 
 A blooming rose ! my laughter, changed to tears, 
 My love's a thorny stem, a leaf that sears. 
 
68 EROTHANATOS. 
 
 Ah me ! my songs have turned to weary sighs, 
 For Death bore off my Love, a spoiled prize ; — 
 But sing, fair children, while the Summer skies 
 Delight the earth, and love illumes your eyes ! 
 
 I love bird-songs, I love the wind-blown smells 
 Of hidden flowers ; I love the light that dwells 
 In evening skies, I love the sound that swells 
 From streams, the soft refrains of village bells ! 
 
 I love the warm breath of the southern breeze, 
 And the dim wood's ^olian melodies. 
 The chirp of crickets, and the hum of bees. 
 And silence, and the crash of windy seas ! 
 
 I love the storm-cloud and its thunderous roar, 
 
 And rain-bright grass when sun breaks forth once 
 
 more ; 
 I love the splash of my lithe, dripping oar. 
 When caved echoes answer from the shore ! 
 
 But that diviner spirit-love — which fed 
 On beauty's aspect till, awakened 
 To rapture, it inspired my life, —has fled 
 Into the grave where beauty moulders, dead. 
 
EROTHANATOS. 69 
 
 With Youth's glad love I cannot greet the fair 
 Daughters of earth, that charm me unaware ; 
 With all earth beautiful, I equal share 
 My blasted heart, else haunted to despair. 
 
 And so I sing of life, and love's sweet prime, 
 
 Of earth majestic, and of heaven sublime ; 
 
 But as days darken in mid-summer time. 
 
 Sad thoughts still creep o'ershadowing the rhyme. 
 
 O God, forgive an erring song that strays 
 From sadness into cheerless, morbid ways ! 
 We know Thou lovest us, that Thou would'st raise 
 Our hopes to Thee, and consecrate our days. 
 
 We own Thy means are limitless as space, — 
 Thy will confines the orbits, and Thy grace 
 Upholds, and yet, there is Thy dwelling-place 
 Where one meek daisy suns her dewy face. 
 
 We view Thy terrors in the tempest's ire. 
 Thy strength in the wild winds that never tire ; 
 Thy beauty in or moon or star admire. 
 Behold thy glory in the sunset's fire. 
 
70 EROTHANATOS. 
 
 Thou'rt in the tears we weep, the prayers we pray, 
 In all thought beautiful we think or say ; 
 Thy presence can be felt both night and day, 
 A conscious Power that rules our minds alway. 
 
 The lilac blooms in May, the crimson rose 
 Is June's, and later still, and fairer, grows 
 The heavenly lily ; so, as onward goes 
 The year, her face diviner beauty shows. 
 
 The promise that was June's, a warm July 
 Makes good in grass and flowers of deeper dye. 
 And leafier trees, and happier birds on high. 
 And longer stormless days, and bluer sky. 
 
 The season swells and ripens, and attains 
 To fulness that the Harvest-God ordains ; 
 The end is Autumn, rich with fruits and grains, 
 Yet selfish man laments, demurs, complains. 
 
 Bewailing still, he garners nothing bright 
 Through summer day to cheer the winter night, 
 Nor hails the marvels working in his sight 
 That prove God's ends, if he would read aright. 
 
EROTHANATOS. 7 1 
 
 The mind, from ev'ry blossoming shrub it sees, 
 Should formulate grand immortalities, 
 And trace, through nature, love's analogies 
 To life above a resurrected tree's. 
 
 Within dumb nature dwells the unerring power 
 That, when she thirsts, draws down the slaking 
 
 shower ; 
 'Tis God who drives the wheels of ev'ry hour, 
 Whose finger points to heaven in ev'ry flower. 
 
 His voice is ev'ry wind ; the boisterous sea 
 Leaps sk)rward, swelling, with His majesty 
 Infused : O man. His love smiles out on thee 
 From ev'ry leaf of grass, and flower, and tree ! 
 
 By ev'ry singing wild-wood brook I trace 
 
 Remembrancers of Him ; in ev'ry place 
 
 Where green boughs wave sun-brightened, lives a 
 
 grace 
 Not theirs, a light reflected from His face. 
 
 He breathes in ev'ry nook where violets nod, 
 Or dappled moss adorns the mountain sod ; 
 
72 EROTHANATOS. 
 
 A wild weed, springing from a stony clod, 
 Tells, as no language may, the love of God. 
 
 And in no place, O God, art thou confined. 
 To no creed bound. Thou Universe of Mind ; 
 In loveliness and awe Thou art enshrined. 
 In earth, and sky, and wisest of mankind. 
 
 The oceans hymn Thy praise that never palter. 
 The gales and rushing streams intone Thy psalter ; 
 Thy temple is creation, and Thine altar 
 The sun, whose soul of fire shall never falter ! 
 
 Oh, baffled gaze ! to look into the air. 
 Thereby to measure Space, how vain it were ! 
 But to conceive Thee, All, is what despair. 
 Who art of everything, and everywhere ! 
 
 Back ! shuddering soul of mortal : by thine art 
 Imaginary, would'st thou dare impart 
 Delusion ? Know'st thou God ? The human heart 
 Is man's one province ; from it not depart ! 
 
EROTHANATOS. 73 
 
 Will man, whose life is one perpetual round, 
 Whose outmost limit is his native ground. 
 Who glories in a name's impotent sound, 
 Dare fix for Thee, Omnipotence, a bound ? 
 
 Oh, make our lives more human ! teach us all 
 Compassionate love ! Thou knowest, God, how small 
 Our virtue is — when brethren on us call 
 For aid, we pass them by and let them fall. 
 
 Oh, make all hearts Thine own, and dwell therein ! 
 Expel our wicked pride, and let begin 
 Religious work divine, so we may win 
 Our bodies from all fascinating sin ! 
 
 Poor substance ours ! a summer season's leaf, 
 The frailest aspen, our small life too brief 
 To spend its bright hour with a blighting grief, 
 Or waste a day, to friendly counsel deaf. 
 
 Then fill us with the wisdom of the sage, 
 That we may know ourselves, and tame the rage 
 Of sin inherent, that we may engage 
 To teach the love-religion to the age. 
 
74 EROTHANATOS. 
 
 From Thee, dear God, the promise emanates, 
 That death is sweet, and dying elevates ; 
 And Thine effulgence all-illuminates 
 The ghostly vale beyond Death's shadowy gates. 
 
 Then farewell, maiden, spirit love of mine ! 
 Sleep thy long sleep in earth, while we repine 
 And weep for thee, and drink Regret's sharp wine ! 
 Long rest and undisturbed peace are thine. 
 
 Thine the repose of spirits passed away. 
 The soul's relapse from weary toil in clay, 
 A calm like evenfall to restless day, 
 The peace of God that endeth not for aye. 
 
 The passing years pause silent in thine ears ; 
 Only the music of harmonious spheres 
 Lulls thy long sleep, while still the hopes and fears 
 Of earth are ours, and laughters drowned in tears. 
 
 . But we shall see thee as our hearts portend. 
 When mutual love clasps love, and friend greets 
 friend. 
 
EROTHANATOS. 75 
 
 When those dread angels earth's doomed mountains 
 
 rend 
 With flaming swords, and God proclaims the end. 
 
 But from earth's ashes Love shall rise and bloom, 
 And God shall crown her, and she shall assume 
 The heirdom of the world, and reillume 
 Earth new created in Destruction's womb. 
 
 Thus shall it be, the Seer and Poet saith : 
 When earth, renewed and fair, awakeneth, 
 There shall be sorrow never, no sweet breath 
 Resigned, for deathless Love shall vanquish Death ! 
 
^6 EROTHANATOS. 
 
 Sadly I sing in the twilight, as shadows around me 
 are falling, 
 Sad as the tide on the sea-shore, sadder than sea- 
 wind sighing ; 
 Mournful and low, in the even, afar off voices are 
 calling 
 Me from these vales of sunset to valleys where day 
 is undying. 
 
 Long have I pined in this valley, distressed with its 
 sighing and weeping. 
 Long has my soul a-wearied of waking, and living, 
 and laughter ; 
 Sound as a dead man sleeps I would that my life 
 were sleeping. 
 Then, in death-dreams, I could hasten beyond to 
 the bright Hereafter. 
 
EROTHANATOS. 'J'J 
 
 Mystical voices of twilight, ye thrill me with rapture 
 diviner, 
 Deeper than love, — than the passionate poetry writ 
 in the olden 
 Time. Oh, sing me to sleep ! woo Death, with your 
 . low, lulling minor 
 Chorals, until my life in his opiate wings is en- 
 folden ! 
 
 Friends and lost lovers who died while Youth had all 
 joys for the giving. 
 When the blown flowers seemed fadeless, abloom 
 in Life's Spring and Love's Summer, 
 Pray to the Power that ordains, that I linger not long 
 in my living, 
 But with this day expiring be welcomed, a long- 
 looked-for comer. 
 
 Spirits that haunt the weird shadows when darlcness 
 around me is falling, 
 Voices that sob with the tides and sigh with the 
 sea-wind's sighing. 
 
78 EROTHANATOS. 
 
 I would depart with you, loved ones, beyond all re- 
 turn and recalling, 
 Far beyond sleeping and waking, and death and 
 the memory of dying. 
 
EROTHANATOS. 79 
 
 PART 11. 
 
 Slow sails the Night across the eastern waves, 
 The Night with poppy garlands in her wings 
 That ever, where she moves, their petals drop 
 In slumbrous showers, veiling eyes with sleep, 
 And shedding, with their fragrance, peace and rest 
 And sweet repose on wearied heads and hearts ; 
 Her voice — the vesper-song of lulling winds 
 Responsive to the minor chords alone 
 Of tender joy, and sadness without pain — 
 Bids Laughter weep, and Melancholy smile. 
 
 The laborer from the vineyard and the. field 
 
 Retires, and bleating flocks are gathered home 
 
 At twilight, and the shepherd's cares are flown. 
 
 He goes to rest, or seeks the maid he loves, 
 
 And, with a chaste few kisses, sings, '' Good night ! " 
 
 And sleeps, to still caress her in his dreams. 
 
 O'er field and hamlet, over hill and dale, 
 
80 EROTHANATOS. 
 
 Night hovers, and the toils of Day are done ; 
 Unbroken is the silence of the hour 
 Save by the cricket, or the wakeful note 
 Of restless bird, or voice of wind, or stream, 
 That scarce disturbs the quiet, and seems most 
 A portion of the silence and the dusk. 
 
 Night ! dark, restful Night ! you bring to me 
 Nor rest, nor slumber, neither joy nor woe, 
 But peace and quiet in this thoughtful hour 
 
 Of contemplation, when the heart is full. 
 And I would be alone to think my thoughts 
 Of her, the loved and lost — not tearfully. 
 Nor bitterly subdued, but undisturbed 
 To walk beneath the shadows, and the stars 
 
 1 love, and think of her I loved much more, 
 
 And whose green grave they now look down upon, 
 As still and bright and high above my head 
 As she seems dark and low beneath my feet. 
 
 The lingering twilight fades beyond the hills. 
 And deepening shadows thicken o'er the scene ; 
 The features of the landscape disappear 
 
EROTHANATOS. 8 1 
 
 In indistinguishable darkness ; night 
 
 Envelops woods, fields, meadows, mountains, streami 
 
 And by the steep sea-cliffs the crooning waves, 
 
 Unseen, seem rocking their old shores to sleep ; 
 
 And yonder, up the valley, gleam the lights 
 
 Of cottage windows, faint and far away, 
 
 Like stars upon the misty horizon ; 
 
 Above the hills, a little crescent moon 
 
 Climbs up the East and trims her silver flame. 
 
 Scarce brighter than a pleiad ; cloudless skies 
 
 Beam overhead, and not a mist obscures 
 
 The loveliness of night. 
 
 I walk the fields. 
 
 The dear familiar fields my childhood knew. 
 
 But not to pluck May-blooms, nor hear the songs 
 
 Of bird, nor swain, nor lass — as when I joined 
 
 The merriest in the rout, and laughed, and danced. 
 
 And sang the hours away in boyish glee, 
 
 I cannot joy again. O careless mirth ! 
 
 I am no longer young ; these are the fields. 
 
 And these the forests and the hills unaltered ; 
 
 But I, alas ! am not the same blithe youth 
 4* 
 
82 EROTHANATOS. 
 
 Who ran and shouted in those early days ; 
 Oh ! I am changed, and know delight no more, 
 Nor that pure gladness in the winds and sun, 
 The impulse and the raptures of a boy. 
 
 I visit these erst happy scenes by night ; 
 I frequent my old haunts among the hills, 
 And through the darkness wander like a sprite 
 From lonely place to place ; the groaning wind. 
 The creaking bat and hooting, homeless owl 
 Are the companions of my walk ; I hear 
 Their dismal music, and it seems not harsh, 
 But soothing to the spirit of my mood. 
 For am I not the ghost of my lost youth ? 
 And has my heart not fall'n to dust with her 
 Who died so many cheerless years ago ? 
 
 I meditate on death, and entertain 
 
 The thought of dying, with the desperate joy 
 
 Of one in love with darkness and the grave, 
 
 And not that I behold in death and gloom 
 
 Oblivion and repose of mortal pain. 
 
 But that I thirst to drain this cup of life, 
 
EROTHANATOS. 83 
 
 And entering Death's dark valley, so may pass 
 
 Unto its outer walls, and thence beyond. 
 
 To drink the ^waters of the living wells 
 
 Of immortality and be at peace : 
 
 As the instinctive spirit temporal 
 
 Aspires and spurns obstruction, so the soul 
 
 Must penetrate the spheres, and thence assume 
 
 Angelic ministry in those high courts 
 
 Of God, above the change of life and death. 
 
 O Night ! original and parent Night ! 
 
 Thou mother of the constellated orbs 
 
 That sprang a shining offspring from thy womb, 
 
 Conceived in darkness and delivered bright 
 
 And blazing, the first children born to God 
 
 In glory — out of gloom — what time the word 
 
 Of light was uttered, ere the laboring deep 
 
 Gave birth to fire and rolled the sun on high ! 
 
 O Night ! revealer of the Universe ! 
 
 Display thy wonders to my dazed sight ! 
 
 Till my hushed soul, bowed in its shrinking cell 
 
 And trembling at its fearful destiny. 
 
 Doth mutely worship awful God through thee ! 
 
84 EROTHANATOS. 
 
 Thou Night ! crowned with thy starry coronals 
 
 That gem with Hght the convex of the dark, 
 
 Deep shade which is the arching of thy wings, 
 
 Brood thou upon my spirit like a dove ! 
 
 Quell pain and passion 'neath thy sheltering wings, 
 
 And let my restless heart beat close to thine ! 
 
 Rain thy sweet dews upon my burning brow, 
 
 And breathe on my vexed soul the soothing calm. 
 
 Contemplative, that from thy presence showers 
 
 Ambrosial peace ; and as I walk abroad, 
 
 Be thou Instructor of my soul, and awe 
 
 My lonely spirit with the solitude 
 
 Of thine oppressive majesty, and stir 
 
 This heart impressible, with subject joy 
 
 In thine expansive beauty's sovereignty. 
 
 As I commune with thee, beloved Night,^ 
 
 In humble adoration, still be mine 
 
 Pacific and companionable thoughts 
 
 Inspired of thee ! Oh, still be mine the heart 
 
 To look on death — the dim and coffined sleep 
 
 In starless charnels — not with pallid fear 
 
 And glazed horror in my staring eyes, 
 
 But welcoming seclusion and release 
 
EROTHANATOS. 85 
 
 From most unhappy days and joyless scenes, 
 Still hail the advent of the angelic shade 
 With invocations, as I now greet thee. 
 
 I tread upon the graves of thousands dead ; 
 
 My feet are on the dust of multitudes ; 
 
 Beneath me are the vaults and mouldering caves 
 
 Of Death, those echoless and lampless cells 
 
 Where Desolation, throned on funeral heaps 
 
 Of whitening bones, still keeps her ghastly court 
 
 With Silence and Decay, — grim sisterhood ! — 
 
 Among the sepulchred and ancient dead. 
 
 Around me gleam the pale memorials 
 
 Of ceremonious marble, — hollow pomp ! — 
 
 By false, obsequious Adulation reared 
 
 Above much loveless and unloved clay ; 
 
 And scattered round, of perishable stuff, 
 
 The unimaginable epitaphs 
 
 Forget, as they that carved, the virtuous dead, 
 
 And leave no record of their mournful tale. 
 
 The shallow stone-wrought urn that overflows 
 
 With rain and dew, seems shedding proper tears 
 
 For the forgotten, unlamented maid 
 
S6 EROTHANATOS. 
 
 Whose virtues it extols, whose kith and kin 
 
 Neglect, and weep not for, or disremember ; — 
 
 Ah ! they dismiss lone grief, and take new friends 
 
 Or clasp unto their alienated hearts 
 
 A dearer one ; their eyes that wept for these, 
 
 With brighter smiles, their lips that coldly sighed, 
 
 With warmer kisses hail the newer love, 
 
 Than ever greeting gave the uncherished dead : 
 
 But here one mound, unmarked by stone or shaft. 
 
 Is strewn with sacred flowers of memory 
 
 That every season brings ; the grass is long, 
 
 For tenderly the sod is sprinkled oft 
 
 By loving hands, and frequent showers of tears 
 
 Descend — a votive tribute of true love, 
 
 True to the dead as to the living true. 
 
 Here rest, in one secluded neighborhood. 
 
 Together mixed in equal dust and dust, 
 
 What generations, races, families 
 
 Of men successive, of what various moulds ! 
 
 What sun-aspiring Genius, eagle-eyed. 
 
 That pierced the heavens, or prophesied, or sung. 
 
 Or rent the veil of Nature and revealed 
 
EROTHANATOS. 8/ 
 
 The secret sanctuaries of her life, 
 
 Or with serene and philosophic thoughts 
 
 Drew God to man, exalting man to God ! 
 
 Here, in the common burial plot, repose 
 
 The wisest and the simplest, best and worst, 
 
 Companioned, indistinguishable all. 
 
 The Statesman, clarion-tongued, the orator 
 
 Whose voice, a living thunder, broke in storms 
 
 Of eloquence that shook the Capitol, 
 
 And roused the Senate like an ocean lashed 
 
 To patriotic swell, or furious, 
 
 Lies with the artisan and villager 
 
 Who dumbly toiled and spake for no applause — 
 
 As low as they, as powerless, as mute ! 
 
 The Soldier, heir of honor, and renowned 
 On those grand battle-fields Republican 
 Where Liberty was born in fire and blood, 
 And was baptized and saved in blood and fire, 
 And purged, and immortalized — he fought 
 And fell most gloriously, and died not vain. 
 But here his relics rest as dark and damp. 
 
88 EROTHANATOS. 
 
 Afar from camps and plumed and bannered hosts, 
 
 Excitements martial, stirring trump and drum. 
 
 As that poor rural swain, his grave-fellow, 
 
 Who ploughed and sowed and harvested his fields. 
 
 And saw the sun rise over the same hills 
 
 A life-time, knowing War by rumors faint, 
 
 Not by his red and devastating front 
 
 And lightning eyes, destructive in a glance. 
 
 And here the ostentatious Citizen, 
 
 The merchant-prince, of calculating eye 
 
 For golden gain, retires, renouncing trade. 
 
 And speculates no more ; what though his corse, 
 
 Preserved in linens, ointments, musk and myrrh. 
 
 Be sealed in the secure sarcophagus ? 
 
 Soon as his neighbors in or vault, or trench, — 
 
 Poor scholar, clown, or laborer, — shall his flesh 
 
 Become of earth and pass into the soil. 
 
 The Poet, happier in his simple songs 
 Pathetic, or the high impassioned strains 
 Interpreting the deep humanities 
 Of love and sorrow, or emancipated thoughts 
 
EROTHANATOS. 89 
 
 Of man invoking, by his destined rights, 
 To rise unfearful and possess the world ; 
 Still, as his weeping rhyme compels the tear, 
 Or that Promethean fire of his art 
 Inspires the exultant souls of men oppressed 
 To most sublime ambition to be free — 
 Although remembered and revered withal, 
 Here he relinquishes his glowing themes, 
 The flame expires, his mighty heart resigns 
 Its passion as his subtle mind forgets 
 Its lyric tones and epic harmonies. 
 
 Engulfed in these sepulchral catacombs 
 And rayless earthen chambers subterrene. 
 Forgetful, unmolesting, and subdued. 
 Foes meet, and enemies join hands in dust ; 
 For feuds are softened in the generous clay. 
 All change as one, and one transmutes as all ; 
 Their substance and vitality inform 
 The leaved herbage with perennial bloom ; 
 They live again in grass and vines and trees. 
 And those that loved are mingled in one mould, 
 And from their twin hearts springs a single flower 
 
90 EROTHANATOS. 
 
 That blossoms, sole and lovely, in the sun 
 Above them, as of old, affectionate 
 In their lives wedded, bloomed the flower of love, 
 Chaste, beautiful, delightful, unimpaired, 
 That shed through all their years perfumed joy. 
 
 I stand beside the grave of her I mourn ; 
 My feet oppress the sod that clasps the form 
 My arms embraced, and calmly, though in tears, 
 I breathe these lamentations. I have passed 
 The seas of stormy grief, and stranded here 
 Among the dead, a friendless mariner, 
 I chant these dirges at the doors of Death. 
 
 thou dim-veiled sister of the Night ! 
 Thou solitary Death ! surrender now, 
 Dark warder of thy gates, to my appeals 
 And supplications ! answer what my heart 
 
 Stern questions ! what mine eyes would dare perceive 
 Within thy cavernous retreats, reveal ! 
 
 1 fear not sight of thee, nor grave phantasm. 
 Nor ghost, nor skeleton's thin hixieousness ; 
 I summon thee, O Death, be thou my guest. 
 Or else receive me thine ! I would uncowl 
 
EROTHANATOS. 9 1 
 
 Thy hooded features, brave thy Sphinxine gaze, 
 Imbibe the wisdom of thy dangerous lore 
 To very madness, and, adventurous. 
 Unearth thy records, and thy covert glooms 
 Explore, to learn the secrets of thy doom 
 And what our fate shall be, and what the end 
 Of earth, thy habitation and thy tomb. 
 
 The World was ever subject of thy sway ; 
 
 Destruction, Fire and Famine, Plague and War, 
 
 Thy ministers, attend in fearful state 
 
 Thy steps disastrous, and the clash of arms. 
 
 And groans, and cities sacked, and flaming towns, 
 
 And crash of wall, and columns' thunderous fall 
 
 Unite in dreadful sacrifice to thee. 
 
 Empires laid waste, and granite capitols 
 
 Half sunken in the deserts of their dust, 
 
 Or buried — as those temples of the Nile 
 
 Egyptian, Nineveh and Babylon 
 
 By Tigris and Euphrates — celebrate 
 
 Thy triumph over Dynasties and Powers 
 
 And Nations numerous, whose lofty arts 
 
 Of architecture monumental still 
 
92 EROTHANATOS. 
 
 Perpetuate, in desolated lands 
 
 Of sand and ruin, Thee, the vanquisher 
 
 Of feeble monarchs, feebler gods, and men. 
 
 Tribes that have flourished on or land or wave 
 
 Through all Creation's ages thus declined 
 
 And perished ; all that man's presumptive pride 
 
 Has builded to his vain mortality. 
 
 Memorial, thou hast either overthrown 
 
 Or marred with hoary Time's obliteration : — 
 
 The Armies and the Navies of the world, 
 
 Preservers and Destroyers ; Arcadie, 
 
 The gentle, peaceful, simple shepherd's reign ; 
 
 And Rome's colossal pageantry of arms, 
 
 Its tribunals of iron, fire, and blood. 
 
 Created and sustained by conquest dire ; 
 
 And Greece, the purest of the states antique, 
 
 Poetic, learned ; as those dusky realms 
 
 Barbaric in the twilight of the East, — 
 
 Where throve the schools of thoughtful mysticism 
 
 And Asia's marvellous philosophies, — 
 
 Evanished ! and but crumbling monuments 
 
 Or fragmentary chronicles declare 
 
EROTHANATOS. 93 
 
 Their virtues, or their arts of bloody War, 
 
 Or Peace : to thee the Arcadian dropped his crook. 
 
 The Romish Victors and the Philosophs 
 
 Of Hellas and the mystic Orient 
 
 Surrendered their ambitions and their lore, 
 
 To pass away or leave a meaner race 
 
 To crawl, obscured by their great ancestry. 
 
 To thee all Thrones and free exalted States 
 Must bow ; Imperial city draped and plumed, 
 And village darkened with the funeral weeds 
 Of woe that mark a nation's widowhood, 
 Acknowledge thee, though tribute to the dead. 
 Despotic Czar, and civic President, 
 And Prince, and Serf, and Freeman, one and all, 
 Are part of this procession, sad and strange, 
 That marches proud or humble to the grave. 
 
 Then shalt thou, Death, invest the visible world, 
 
 And, at the last, shall this sun-poised globe 
 
 Relax its pace, and drop into the void, 
 
 An inorganic ruin, pathless, dark ? 
 
 And thou, Extinguisher, shalt thou become 
 
94 EROTHANATOS. 
 
 Extinct, this solitary wandering star 
 
 Thy grave when thou art dead and sepulchred ? 
 
 Ah no ! for though mankind shrink at the thought, 
 
 And dread the horrors of the charnel-crypt, 
 
 Thou art most gentle, O mysterious change ! 
 
 Though Superstition and the haunting fears 
 
 Of Ignorance have clothed thee terrible — 
 
 A demon thought in raiment of dismay — 
 
 Thy presence is not awful. Death, thou art 
 
 A horrid name, but thy reality 
 
 Is rest and peace, the vision of a sleep 
 
 Not long, and sweet — a bright transforming dream. 
 
 In which the spirit wakens from the flesh 
 
 And soars, serene and beautiful, to God. 
 
 But still, what though content Philosophy 
 
 Exalt my vision, and I entertain 
 
 Secluded hours with solemn questionings 
 
 And thoughtful search into the deep abodes 
 
 Of Death : what though my lamp-bearer and guide 
 
 Be chaste Religion, and the wings of Love — 
 
 Those plumed vans of immortality — 
 
 Sustain my speculations ! though I pierce 
 
EROTHANATOS. 95 
 
 The grave and dim futurity unveil, 
 
 From daring flight and philosophic thought 
 
 I still return to weep at this low mound, 
 
 Refusing solace ; here return to wail 
 
 For thee, Beloved ; to weep and think of thee : — 
 
 For still to mourn and shed the faithful tear 
 
 Is human ; but, therefore, with unwet eyes 
 
 To thus remember thee were not divine. 
 
 Oh ! many are my thoughts above thee now, 
 
 And sadly strange ; I cannot seem to think. 
 
 That this young grass, with golden daisies starred. 
 
 Has thrived and withered through so many 
 
 Springs 
 And Autumns since its parent sod was closed 
 Above thee, buried in my youthful years ; 
 It seems but now I saw thy shrouded form 
 Before me, and the scent of funeral flowers 
 Seems now oppressive in that silent room ; 
 I look my last, I kiss the last cold kisSj^ 
 My burning tears fall on your smiling face 
 So passive and so fair ; I turn away. 
 And evermore the beauty and the peace 
 
g6 EROTHANATOS. 
 
 Of that last look have haunted my regret 
 With loveliness that shall not pass away. 
 
 I cannot think wild Winter and his snows 
 So many times have stormed and drifted here 
 Since that long night of gust and windy flaw 
 That saw the light extinguished in those eyes, 
 And darkened my young life ; and yet the nights 
 Have blown a thousand storms of rain and snow, 
 And howling wind, about my houseless head, 
 Since when I sobbed upon thy dying breast. 
 It was a child that shuddered at the thud 
 Of awful earth upon thy coffin-lid, 
 Which is a ghostly memory to the man 
 Who celebrates thy love and early death. 
 
 The feathered songsters treble in the trees, 
 And bush and brake are tremulous with song; 
 But, silent as these columns, voiceless, cold, 
 I sit and ponder, w^ith down-drooping head. 
 A faint and dewy odor from the grass. 
 The exhalation of the budding spring. 
 Charms ev'ry sense. The current of my life 
 
EROTHANATOS. 97 
 
 Rolls back, and sparkles in the morning sun 
 
 Of youth, and, dancing like a meadow brook, 
 
 And singing as I dance, my life flows on 
 
 Through slowly widening banks and deepening bed,. 
 
 Where floAvers with laughing eyes peep down at me, 
 
 Or, drooping, kiss my face, or drop sweet buds 
 
 I fondle on my bosom as I pass ; 
 
 And ever wider, deeper grows the stream. 
 
 And higher climbs the bright orb of the sun. 
 
 And thicker and more fragrant, fairer flowers 
 
 Snow down bright petals, and extend to me 
 
 Long, lovely arms, as they would woo me stay 
 
 And wanton with their loveliness ; but swift 
 
 I glance and glide through sun and softening shade. 
 
 The sky reflecting in my tranquil depths ; 
 
 And cedarn branches, dusk as twilight time. 
 
 The funeral willow, and the plume-like pine 
 
 Reflecting as I near the sombre wood. 
 
 I hear the voice of Childhood clear in song, 
 
 I join the jubilee, and laugh and sing, 
 
 And leap along the low and limpid marge, 
 
 And mingle with their childish joy, who twine 
 
 Sweet-brier and primroses to garland Mirth. 
 
98 EROTHANATOS. 
 
 I Steal through sloping fields with buttercups 
 
 And daisies golden, and through little chasms 
 
 Of rock, festooned with wild-rose vines and starred 
 
 With roses and with moss streaked gray and green ; 
 
 I gleam down little pebbly, laughing falls, 
 
 And nestle in the great gnarled roots of oaks 
 
 Whose giant branches shield a thousand birds 
 
 That swell the Summer's choral melody ; 
 
 And ever where I trip, by sheltering nook 
 
 Or open lawn, with simple voice I sing 
 
 As free as native robin, finch, or thrush ; 
 
 Though not so loud my notes, or tunable, 
 
 Still with the same delight that swells their throats. 
 
 But now a magic voice enchants my stream 
 
 To turn and linger, and, in mid-career, 
 
 I pause along a shelving bank, to list 
 
 A music sweeter than the sweetest bird, 
 
 And dearer than my own ; a Maiden sings, 
 
 And, nearer as I creep, it clearer swells. 
 
 Then silent in I flow, till at her feet 
 
 I spread my waters, and her mirrored Form 
 
 Floats in my deep enamored, and, her smiles 
 
 Reflected in my face, I laugh for glee 
 
EROTHANATOS. 99 
 
 And brighten underneath my osier shores. 
 
 She sings the song of Childhood as she laughs 
 
 Along the sedge, — but now she starts and shrieks 
 
 Before a Shade who slays her with a kiss 
 
 And bears her captive life to his cold cave. 
 
 My troubled waters darken : now I crawl 
 
 Through black ravines where boulders huge impede 
 
 The dangerous way ; I swirl in deep cesspools 
 
 Through forests wild and lonely, and I break 
 
 O'er rocky ledges where frail lichens cling, 
 
 And waste in clouds of spray ; through haunted gulch 
 
 And gully, over crag and slimy stone 
 
 I shriek like a lost spirit ; poison-springs 
 
 That suck the roots of hemlock, dismal tarns, 
 
 Where vipers nest, and birds of prey, I feed ; 
 
 I surge down cavernous steeps, from ledge to ledge, 
 
 And cliff to cliff, precipitate I pour ; 
 
 I shuddering fall through ever-deepening gulfs 
 
 That yawn and echo loud and noisier still, 
 
 As still I madly plunge in agony 
 
 Of dread suspension and the headlong roar 
 
 From depth to depth, until, oppressed and shocked, 
 
 I spring up, startled from my reverie, 
 
lOO EROTHANATOS. 
 
 To find myself upon the grave of her 
 Who stood beside that river of my dream. 
 
 child of Morning, love of Spring and Youth, 
 What hopes of thee were mine, — abandoned now !- 
 When I looked forward, with a swelling heart 
 
 Of joy expectant, to the full flower-prime 
 Of thy glad womanhood, and hoped to see 
 The season of thy ripening beautiful 
 And perfect for the harvest of thy days. 
 For that grand consummation of thy life : — 
 Thy love matured, and glorious motherhood ! 
 
 1 hoped to see thee change from year to year, 
 From fair to fairest, and from maidenly. 
 Demure and coy, to confident and brave 
 And womanly ; whose sympathy were much. 
 Whose tear best tribute to a noble deed. 
 
 But whose intelligent aid, and zeal, and love. 
 
 Were most invaluable in any cause 
 
 Of human suffering, or sacrifice. 
 
 Or high ambition. Oh, it were a boon 
 
 Too dear to have beheld thee, dignified 
 
EROTHANATOS. lOI 
 
 And motherly, among thy little ones, 
 
 The household Queen of homely, tender sway 
 
 So worshipful — too dear for eyes of mine ! 
 
 I hoped to see thee pleasing, wifely, true 
 
 To chastity — that gem of womanhood, 
 
 Out-lustering all the jewels of the world ; 
 
 I did not fear to view thy roses pale, 
 
 Nor thy blue eyes to fade ; for not with these 
 
 Such beauty's charm diminishes or cloys, 
 
 But rather it increases with the fame 
 
 Of sons and daughters, and all generous deeds 
 
 That lend to age a splendor not of youth, 
 
 A beauty by gray hair not dispossessed — 
 
 Pure loveliness that crowns a well-spent life.. 
 
 O Woman ! it is thine, the heavenly art 
 To heal the wounded spirit ; it is thine. 
 When disappointment rankles in the blood, 
 To draw the barbed sting, and raise and cure 
 The crushed life with love's sustaining balm. 
 When enemies assail, and Powers are moved 
 To opposition of our loftiest hopes, 
 
I02 EROTHANATOS. 
 
 And envious Rage conspires with loathed Shame 
 
 To make lewd havoc of our chaste contents 
 
 And joys and fairest fames ; when Friendship, false 
 
 As Peter to his Lord, denies for fear, 
 
 And points the scornful finger at our woe 
 
 With the unpitying, murderous multitude, 
 
 Oh ! then, with inextinguishable love, 
 
 Divine as Mary's for the Crucified, 
 
 Thou risest, changeless Woman, true as fire 
 
 To its obscured sun, and with the strength 
 
 Of sacred sympathy, the mother-kiss, 
 
 And love's compassionate companionship, 
 
 Thou wardest off grim Cruelty abashed, 
 
 And nursest, on thy pure warm breast, the Soul, 
 
 A-flutter in death's chill, to life again. 
 
 Thou bringest to the dark hour of despair 
 
 Celestial hopes, and lightest up the gloom 
 
 With star-like smiles, and, though discordant thoughts 
 
 Grate Life, thou makest music of sweet words. 
 
 That cheers the heart and soothes the vexed soul. 
 
 O Woman ! laud of thee in Shakespeare's verse 
 
 Were but small compensation ; Milton's line 
 
 Poor-worthy ; the melodious Galaxies 
 
EROTHANATOS. IO3 
 
 Of English Song, though like the Morning Stars 
 Together hymning one continuous theme 
 They celebrated, it were not too much, 
 In thy one praise, their sphered harmony. 
 
 Oh ! such I fondly deemed this child would be, 
 
 A creature of perfection, earth's best heir 
 
 Of immortality, as God's best mould 
 
 Of purest, finest being on the earth. 
 
 Most fruitful and most fair and most divine — 
 
 A perfect Woman. Oh ! there were such gleams 
 
 Of bright intelligence in her blue eyes. 
 
 Such starry raptures of celestial light. 
 
 Reflected from half-risen orbs of thought, 
 
 That at their zenith must have glowed and burned 
 
 Full-globed of a serene poetic fire, 
 
 Now coldly and eternally eclipsed. 
 
 Oh, thou that would'st have joyed in my joys 
 
 And sorrowed in my sorrows ! thou art now 
 
 To me, as is the memory of Youth 
 
 To Age, a sad remembrance of delight 
 
 And morning, at the solemn midnight hour. 
 
 Thou liest underneath the violets 
 
104 EROTHANATOS. 
 
 And grass and daisies, dreamless and serene, 
 A sleeper in the earthen couch of Death, 
 Withdrawn from all the worry of the world, 
 While I must waken still, and, evermore. 
 Among the dwellers of the hills and fields 
 And forests, friendless cities populous, 
 And rural villages hospitable. 
 Find neither rest, nor joy 'mid tender men 
 And loving women ; still must I return, 
 With peaceless yearnings of a shattered life 
 Left purposeless, and desolated heart 
 Ambitionless, to watch beside this cave 
 Where thou hast entered, waiting for the stroke 
 That severs life and makes me one with thee. 
 
 As seasons change, and the revolving year 
 
 Descends, through russet gleams of Autumn time. 
 
 To sombre Winter's uncongenial gloom 
 
 And cheerlessness, and haggard white despair ; 
 
 But reascending, hand in hand with Spring, 
 
 Weeps through the equinox to blush and glow 
 
 And laugh into the Summer of the sun — 
 
 The joy of flowers, and fruits, and leaved prime : 
 
EROTHANATOS. 105 
 
 So hath the human heart its periods 
 
 Of dark despondency, its Winter time 
 
 Of stormy, fruitless grief, when dim eyes stare 
 
 Like frozen pools, and life's deep streams are dumb : 
 
 It hath calm nights and long tempestuous days, 
 
 Its melting rains that soften and subdue, 
 
 Its first sweet thoughts that burst like April flowers 
 
 Up through the soil, and then the Summer flush 
 
 And bloom, when Wisdom's sun that warms the 
 
 soul, 
 
 Burns, quickening all the sluggish springs of life. 
 
 And so my heart is shaken as with storms, 
 
 And buried under whitening Winter's snows ; 
 
 And so its waters, as the iced floods. 
 
 Are broken up, and dashed in torrents down 
 
 Its deep-worn channels, as the South wind's breath, 
 
 In March, dissolves December-frozen tides. 
 
 So Summers, Autumns, Winters, Springs return 
 
 With hopes and fears, and passions and despairs, 
 
 As changeable as ev'ry season's skies. 
 
 And various as the hearts and minds of men, 
 
 Where, ever striving in unequal fray, 
 
 Distrust and Faith disturb the life's repose. 
 5* 
 
I06 EROTHANATOS. 
 
 But in an hour comes Death — a quiet hour — 
 
 When all the heart is wearied, and the mind 
 
 That ceaseless thought, is hushed in slumbrous rest ; 
 
 The tuneful voice forgets its charmed tones 
 
 That sweeter sang than w41d-wood bird, or loud 
 
 With eloquence, its diapasons pealed, 
 
 That stirred the passions, or, with softer notes 
 
 Subdued and moved to pity and to tears. 
 
 The eyes that laughed with love or wept with woe, — 
 
 Or, brightening, burned, as sun-approaching stars 
 
 Into the fullest joy of life and love, — 
 
 Wane and grow dim, and in the night expire. 
 
 And it is well. Who yearns for length of days. 
 
 And who cries : '' Death, thou comest all too soon, 
 
 My years are not completed ! I would weave. 
 
 Ambitious, at the fiery looms of Fame, 
 
 A tapestry of dazzling thought, that so 
 
 My name may still out-burn this spark of life. 
 
 And shine among mankind." What vanity 
 
 Is fame ! Oh, what a useless wild desire ! 
 
 To pass from mouth to mouth, an idle word. 
 
 The fashion of a day. Oh, barrenness 
 
 Of fame, that cannot give an easeful hour 
 
EROTHANATOS. 10/ 
 
 To pain, a husk that cannot yield one grain 
 Of consolation to the starveling Grief, 
 A mockery, a vapor's emptiness 
 That but reflects the sun, then melts away 
 As clouds fade in the twilight of the West ! 
 Such be not mine ! to waste the precious years 
 In thankless labor at the weft and woof 
 That, finished, is the wonder of a day. 
 
 Vain-glory is a vampire, and the bane 
 
 Of noble living, for it drags the heart 
 
 To infamy, and sucks its purest blood 
 
 To glut a ravenous appetite. Alas ! 
 
 How few are temperate, humble, satisfied. 
 
 Not mingling with the rushing multitudes. 
 
 Ambitious each to win alone the good 
 
 That all should equal share. To live obscure, 
 
 And earn the daily bread by healthful toil 
 
 At wheel, or axe, or plough is happiness 
 
 Alone ; the simple life, in rural field 
 
 And village spent, can still be grand and pure 
 
 And Christ-like, for true manhood needs not fame 
 
 To vaunt its worthiness and virtues rare, 
 
I08 EROTHANATOS. 
 
 As true nobility is of the heart, 
 
 And not created, or unmade by fame. 
 
 But ever still the inevitable hour 
 
 Of death draws near ; our feastings and our 
 
 fasts, 
 Our joys and sorrows, and our loves and hates, — 
 Alas, the hate ! — will be at end full soon. 
 The humble and the proud, the kind and fierce. 
 The foolish and the wise, within thy vaults 
 Repose, O giver of tranquillity ! 
 Thou Guardian of the mighty dead of old ! 
 The greatest of the earth have followed thee, 
 Mute captives, to the grave, and fearing not ; 
 The Prophets of young Israel, and her Bards 
 Who sang Creation's Dawn among the hills 
 Judean while the shepherds watched their flocks ; 
 The Grecian Homer, greater than his gods, 
 Or heroes, father of the Epic line ; 
 Virgil, and Dante of Italia's land ; 
 The English Milton greatest of the four, 
 With mighty poets — of how many lands ! — 
 Philosophers, Observers of the stars. 
 
EROTHANATOS. IO9 
 
 And Scientists, have died and passed away — 
 Should we, then fear to follow in their steps ? 
 
 No ! let it stand as best that all should die, 
 Seeing how right is death ; who dare condemn. 
 Not knowing, that which is, and still must- be, 
 Until the higher Power that made it so. 
 And knows, sees fit to change what is so good, 
 To better still ? I know this path of gloom 
 Doth lead to glory, that we but descend 
 In flesh to rise in spirit, putting off 
 The body as a garment worn and old, 
 To don the robes of immortality. 
 
 O thou eventful Hour, approaching Death, 
 
 And Dissolution, come ye any day. 
 
 Dear guests of mine ! or, if the sleepy night. 
 
 Or twilight of the dawn, or eventide 
 
 Doth more invite your presence, come, and rock 
 
 This tired heart to sleep, that, weary long. 
 
 Has tossed restlessly ! Oh, seal these eyes, 
 
 Observant of bright stars and brighter sun. 
 
 With everlasting darkness, nevermore 
 
no EROTHANATOS. 
 
 To lighten with the tear, or smile ! Oh, hush 
 
 This feeble voice unmusical, that strove 
 
 With its few faltering notes, distressed and wild, 
 
 To sing of Love and Death, the lofty strain 
 
 Of lamentation — soul-exalting theme ! 
 
 Oh, shield in the protection of thy wings 
 
 My spirit, and enclasp these palsied hands 
 
 And pulseless fingers that with artless touch 
 
 Discordant, and with inexpressive power, 
 
 Have desecrated and rebuked the lyre 
 
 Poetic ! as, with zithern, or soft harp, 
 
 A child might wanton inharmonious, — 
 
 Self-pleased, though jarring the pure-tuned strings,— 
 
 I touch the shell and hear its soul respond 
 
 Melodious to the singing of my heart : 
 
 And so I sang, but with unequal voice. 
 
 This song, and, with a tremulous note, conclude 
 
 What was attempted with forewarning fears. 
 
 But though the unskilful verse be not adorned 
 
 With beauty, and such thoughts as make men weep 
 
 In raptures, it is still memorial 
 
 Of something undelivered in my soul, 
 
 Whose lineaments are bright and beautiful ; 
 
EROTHANATOS. 1 1 1 
 
 Memorial of love that unto death 
 
 Was true ; memorial of thee, Beloved, 
 
 To whom I consecrate my cloister-life 
 
 Of loneliness, communing with high thoughts, 
 
 But ever loving and remembering thee, 
 
 The beginning and the ending of my song. 
 
112 WALT WHITMAN. 
 
 WALT WHITMAN. 
 
 O PURE-HEART singer of the human frame 
 
 Divine, whose poesie disdains control 
 Of slavish bonds ! each poem is a soul 
 Incarnate born of thee and given thy name. 
 
 Thy genius is unshackled as a flame 
 
 That sunward soars, the central light its goal ; 
 Thy thoughts are lightnings, and thy numbers 
 • roll 
 In nature's thunders that put art to shame. 
 
 Exalter of the Land that gave thee birth, 
 
 Though She insult thy grand gray years with 
 
 wrong 
 Of infamy, foul-branding thee with scars 
 
 Of felon-hate, still shalt thou be on earth 
 
 Revered, and, in Fame's firmament of song, 
 Thy name shall blaze among the eternal stars ! 
 
TO JOHN H. RAPP. I13 
 
 TO JOHN H. RAPP. 
 
 (On receiving the Congressional gold medal for life-saving.) 
 
 Greeting ! thou heir of an immortal fame 
 
 Above the little clamors small men heed ! 
 
 What though thy merits nor attain the meed 
 Of civic honors, nor the loud acclaim 
 
 That hails with thundered cheers a conqueror's name— 
 The demi-god of battle whose grand deed 
 Of valor hazardous saved in its need 
 Disastrous this Republic from the shame 
 
 Of foul disunion — hero still wert thou, 
 
 Of bravest passion and of noblest mould, 
 Though palms nor crown thy deeds, nor paeans 
 laud ; 
 
 And deathless amaranth shall wreathe thy brow, 
 Thy heaven-delighting actions be extolled 
 And celebrated in the courts of God ! 
 
114 TO J. B. N. 
 
 TO J. B. N. 
 
 The lowly ministry of Christ, divine, 
 
 More glories life, and man more elevates, 
 Than all the pomp of kings and worldly states. 
 Or all the riches of Golconda's mine. 
 
 A good man's deeds are jewels that shall shine 
 
 When gold and purple tarnish : Death awaits 
 To strip the king, but whom God consecrates 
 For good deeds, He shall robe — such end be 
 thine ! 
 
 With prayer and praise God is not best adored, 
 
 Nor with celestial hymn, nor instrument, — 
 The truly human is the godliest man ! 
 
 The chosen follower of the gentle Lord, 
 Is he of largest heart benevolent — 
 Disciple ! Gentile ! or Samaritan ! 
 
TO J. G. W. 115 
 
 TO J. G. W. 
 
 Oh, that companionship is most divine 
 
 *Of friend and friend ; and brotherhood, more 
 
 dear 
 Than love's wild fascination ! year by year 
 Great friendships thrive as lesser loves decline. 
 
 Through dark days of distress to soothe was thine, 
 When desolate, thou still remained to cheer^ 
 And ever still be thou as dear and near, 
 And thy best comradeship, as ever, mine ! 
 
 Amid the tumult and tempestuous strife 
 
 Of passionate multitudes, the loud commotion 
 Of frenzied factions that disturb this life. 
 
 Divide and clash, like an infuriate ocean. 
 
 Thy friendship breathes a calm which is to me 
 Like fountains of sweet water to the sea. 
 
1 16 JUDGMENT. 
 
 JUDGMENT. 
 
 O Day, when iron Pride shall bend the knee 
 
 And fall with fainting heart ! when Sin shall 
 
 swoon 
 With fear of her transgressions, and Hell croon 
 Afar with evil joy of breaking free ! 
 
 When suns' shall freeze, and the white glaciered moon, 
 A blazing ruin, plunges in the sea. 
 And sunders earth, when strength of man 
 
 shall be 
 A helplessness, O doomed Day, come soon ! 
 
 And come. Sublime Avenger ! wake the dead 
 To judgment till their rising Chaos feels 
 And shudders in his gloom ! Thy glory spread, 
 
 Grinding the worlds beneath Thy chariot wheels ; 
 
 Thy locks like thunder-clouds about Thy head. 
 The Lightnings chained and chafing at Thy 
 heels ! 
 
VESPERS. 117 
 
 VESPERS. 
 
 The tapers in their golden branches shine 
 
 Like clustered stars along the altar's rim, 
 And in an atmosphere of incense, swim, 
 Religious as the sky, or more divine. 
 
 My heart is kneeling at the inmost shrine ; 
 
 My spirit fails, my visioned eyes wax dim, 
 And, though I chant the psalter and the hymn. 
 My feet are on the hills of Palestine ; 
 
 And down by Jordan river I am led 
 
 To Galilee, and hear a mournful air. 
 As if one sang for sorrow of her dead — 
 
 'Tis Israel wailing out her heart's despair — 
 
 Then I awake and list, with bowled head. 
 The organ sobbing through the hour of prayer. 
 
Il8 WHITTIER. 
 
 WHITTIER. 
 
 (the abolitionist.) 
 
 A YOUTH whose heart rebelled 'gainst tyranny, 
 
 A man whose soul abhorred a goad or rod ; 
 The Poet armed with one great gift of God 
 To scourge with fire his land's arch-enemy. 
 
 Arrayed against unholy slavery 
 
 He struck with those inspired men who trod 
 Through deadliest peril, to redeem the sod 
 From chains, and re-establish Liberty. 
 
 Thy comrades have gone down into the dust 
 
 And silence ; but their deeds shall live in song 
 While shine the moon, and stars, and deathless 
 sun. 
 
 O Whittier, the tender and the just, 
 
 Brave scorner of inhuman craft and wrong, 
 True bard and Liberty's high priest in one ! 
 
A RINGLET OF HAIR. II 9 
 
 A RINGLET OF HAIR. 
 
 Where is the glossy head that long ago — 
 
 Oh, very long ago, when happy years 
 
 Were earth's and mine, when more of loves 
 
 than fears 
 Disturbed my heart's blood in its ebb and flov/ ; 
 Where is the golden head I toyed with so, 
 
 And caught this curl with its bright other 
 
 peers 
 In hand, and wet them with glad dew of tears, 
 Bending to kiss her baby lips below ? 
 Gone, did you say ? dead ? . . . . Aye, her grave is 
 low, 
 Deep in a grassy vale where a white stone 
 
 rears. 
 In the place of charnels, where the moist winds 
 blow 
 Forever, and no one ever heeds, that hears . 
 
 Their dirge ; where pale-faced mourners come 
 
 and go. 
 Striking their hearts and weeping bitter tears. 
 
120 NOVEMBER. 
 
 NOVEMBER. 
 
 Oh, misery of long autumnal hours ! 
 
 The tattered trees wave sighing to and fro, 
 
 Wearily, wearily in the wands that blow 
 
 Over the stubble fields and dead wild-flowers ; 
 
 Out in the meadows pour the chilling showers ; 
 
 Down in the hollows no more daisies grow. 
 Drearily, drearily blow the winds, as low 
 They sweep the rains that weep as twilight 
 lowers. 
 
 Bereaved hearts, how like Autumn ! where still cling 
 Tear-dripping memories of the olden days ; 
 Glad Summer-time of life, when joy-birds sing 
 
 Through hill and dale, with Childhood in his plays 
 High-hearted ; O alas, that anything 
 Of Love and Beauty ceases and decays ! 
 
THE EVENING STAR, VENUS. 12 £ 
 
 THE EVENING STAR, VENUS, 
 
 Thou lonely gem, bright-trembling in the West, 
 
 When is withdrawn the sun's resplendent 
 
 stream 
 Of golden glory, fading like a dream 
 Of holiness about a sage's rest ! 
 
 Far, orbed light, whose tender sparkling beam 
 Is the dim twilight's solitary guest, 
 What glow of feeling thou awakenest 
 In breasts where young desire doth amorous 
 scheme ! 
 
 This is thine hour of triumph on the sky. 
 
 Thou sphered Splendor, where the day grows 
 
 less; 
 Thou sacred fire to love, thine altar's high 
 
 In the eternal West, where thou dost bless 
 The eventide, as doth a glorious eye 
 In woman make supreme her loveliness ! 
 
122 love's roses. 
 
 LOVE'S ROSES. 
 
 Oh, well thy rosy emblem, Love, is red ; 
 
 Thy wreathed roses hide a crown of thorns, 
 
 That sharply stings the forehead it adorns, 
 
 And poisons the hot blood love's fire fed. 
 O rose, remembrancer of hearts that bled 
 
 For thy sweet meaning's sake, what nights 
 and morns 
 
 And eves have I kissed thee, despite Love's 
 scorns, 
 
 And prayqd since she scorned me that I were 
 dead ! 
 It is not well that I alone must wear 
 
 Love's cruel crown, since all the roses fell 
 
 To you, fair maid, and plaited thorns my share ; 
 Since you rung in my heart hope's funeral knell, 
 
 And kissed the Judas-kiss of my despair ; 
 
 Oh, pitiless, heartless one ! it is not well. 
 
THE OASIS. 123 
 
 THE OASIS. 
 
 Thou fair and fertile island in the sand, 
 
 Of dewy palms and verdure-hidden springs, 
 Cool groves and glades astir with flashing 
 
 wings 
 Of tropic birds, led by a blessed Hand 
 
 To cheer the waste with music— vocal band ! 
 
 Heaven bless the palmy shade, the stream that 
 
 sings 
 Diviner than a harp's iEolian strings 
 To thirsting travellers in the rainless land ! 
 
 They cherish waters, rocks, and trees, and grass, 
 Who face Arabia's scorching sun, and plod 
 The tentless sands that blaze on all who pass 
 
 Intenser than the sun ; but who has trod 
 
 The green oasis and .not thought there was 
 E'en in the desert evidence of God ? 
 
1 24 AUTUMN. 
 
 AUTUMN. 
 
 The last frail-clinging leaves have fluttered down. 
 And shudder in the keener airs that pass, 
 Upon thin patches of hoar-frosted grass^ 
 Whereon they lie like Autumn's foot-steps 
 brown. 
 
 The sunny days of Summer-time have flown ; 
 
 The lingering lights of their last smiles^ alasl 
 Are fading, and the winds a requiem mass 
 Peal through the woods in sober mourning 
 gown, ' 
 
 'Tis Nature's voice soft-breathing on the ear 
 
 Harmonious lamentation, to make sweet 
 The ripened death of the full-bosomed year. 
 
 Delivered of her fruits : lo ! where her feet 
 
 Glanced beautiful, she lies 'mid blossoms sere. 
 Dishevelled, her lorn motherhood complete ! 
 
SONNET. 125 
 
 SONNET. 
 
 Alas, my life ! what is in store for thee ? 
 
 Shall ever pleasant Summer seasons make 
 Thee laugh for love, or lighten for love's sake, 
 When flowers return and June-leaves crown 
 each tree ? 
 
 Not evermore, lone life, shall happy be 
 
 The summer days we live ; despair will make 
 Thy youth decay ; but, though thy strong heart 
 
 break, 
 Be proud, and suffer grand and silently ! 
 
 Be faithful till the end, and who shall know 
 
 The heart is broken if the soul be brave ? 
 And who shall say : ^* He loved in vain, and so 
 
 He died a bitter death, Love's hapless slave ? " 
 No one shall know, so bury up thy woe 
 And shattered hopes deep in the heart, Love's 
 grave I 
 
126 TO M. A. F. 
 
 TO M. A. F. 
 
 I THOUGHT dark eyes unlovely and severe, 
 
 I deemed them haughty, treacherous, untrue, 
 And praised one pair of bonny eyes of blue, 
 As only beautifully bright and clear ; 
 
 But lo, dark-lustering, thine have made me fear 
 
 Their splendors, and avenged their sisters too 
 I scorned, for they have pierced my cold heart 
 
 through 
 With fiery wounds, most painful and most dear. 
 
 O dark eyes, you are stormy, and I love you ! 
 
 O dark eyes, you are passionate, and bum 
 With quenchless love, if but the power move 
 you 
 
 That makes proud hearts consume in love's concern ! 
 Be bright, eyes, while the heavens are bright 
 
 above you ! 
 And flash, twin stars, as long as I discern ! 
 
THE MARRIAGE AT CANA. 127 
 
 THE MARRIAGE AT CANA. 
 
 (Built on Crashaw's immortal line.) 
 
 Hark, the glad timbrel and the pealing chime 
 
 Of pleasing harps and reeds ! how sweet and 
 
 clear 
 Blithe girlish laughter breaks between, and 
 
 hear, 
 The feet of dancers, musical, beat time ! 
 They rest ; a Galilean sings a rhyme, 
 
 And each guest listens with attentive ear ; 
 But who first praises, walking gravely near ? 
 The teacher Christ, of radiant brow sublime. 
 " No wine ? " the bride's regretful eyes grew dim. 
 
 "Water!" the Master cried; all sound was 
 
 hushed ; 
 And, when the earthen jars were brought to 
 Him, 
 " The conscious water saw its God and blushed." 
 Oh ! never wine like that did ever brim 
 Immortal cups since first the grape was 
 crushed !