.°-n^^ :> ^ V 4 o ^o ORIGIML POEMS ®OTdati0ns itm Bml^mMm mli oi^tx forts BY SOPHIA MILLIGAN V LONDON HURST AND BLACKETT 13 GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET 1856 %^ TO THE REVEREND THOMAS VINCENT FOSBERY, M.A., THIS VOLUME IS GRATEFULLY AND AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED BY THE AUTHOR. PREFACE. The Original Poems in this volume, seem to require no explanation. V Of the Translations, some are of poems already- rendered into English, and well known. But my object has been to gather into one volume such specimens of the Poetry of the North and South, translated by myself, as might show those differences which spring fi-om diversity of race, temperament, and cHmate, and yet exhibit that unfailing bond of brotherhood, whereby the Poet-heart every where recognizes truth, and love, and the beautiful, and a higher life than ours is here ; in whatever voice such feelings may be expressed. Yl PREFACE. I do not of course hold myself responsible for all tlie opinions and sentiments which these translations contain, as I do for those expressed in my original poems, yet I have been doubly glad when poetry, which I admired for its other beauties, has contained pure religious feeling. The holy power of the true Faith is spreading widely, and will I trust more and more hallow all that pleases and instructs. No longer, like the fire of Vesta, is it confined to the altar of the Temple, but spreading as the radiance of the Sun over the world, it consecrates God's Universe to God, by letting us see all things in His light ! I am indebted for a few of the original poems, and many of the translations, to my mother ; and they are distinguished from the rest by her initials. ERRATA. In OUE SOLDIEES For " the wounded, maimed, and bravely, nobly dead" — p. 10, Read " the brave, and noble, wounded, maimed, and dead." In To THE Parents op Theodosia D. — For " she, scarcely striving, won the prize" — p. 118, Read " after brief toil she gained the prize." In King Bele and Thorsten Vikingsson — For " sitting in Havamal " — p. 175, Read " in the wise Havamal." For " Asa's sons" — p. 177, Read " Asa-sons." For " Fiorde "—p. 178, Read " Fiord." In Ingeborg's Lament — For " seeking the Fates beloved " — p. 181, Read " seeking her Mate beloved." In Valdemar the Great and his Men — For " she has the Nornen's brow" — p. 221, Read " she has the Norna-brow." INDEX TO ORIGINAL POEMS. The Worth of Eeauty 1 Angels' Visits 6 The Poet-heart . 1 The Midnight Sun 9 Our Soldiers 10 Fairy Land 13 Childhood's Flower 20 To the Skylark . 23 To E. C. H.— On his first going to Sea 26 The Little Maiden 29 The Lovely "Woman 31 'i'he Seasons 33 Maniac's Song 36 Homely Maidens 37 The Cloister Cell . 39 To Magdalen . . . , 40 INDEX. To an Infant The Mother Pilgrim Song Convent Lay- Evening Lines supposed to be Written by a Blind Lady A Mother Wakening her Child Memory and Hope To One Beloved and Revered Song of Emigrants on their Voyage Out. Traces of Time The Broken Heart Morning Hours First Vision Second Vision Spectres The Exile The Three Children To My Cousin Fanny Invocation To the Guilty The Deformed Transformed Martyrdom of St. Stephen INDEX. 3 The Angel on Two Wings . . 104 Indolence . . , . Ill One look, one look in Jesus' Face . , 114 " He feedeth the Young Ravens that caU upon Him." . . . 116 To the Parents of Theodosia D. . . 117 Sitting at the Threshold . . . 119 " Blessed art Thou among "Women." . . 123 Fallen Angels . . .125 The Soul's Rohing . . . 126 " Depart from me, for I am a sinful man, O Lord." 129 Praise . . . .131 To after his Confirmation . . 133 If thou hast been through Grace to life renewed 136 Time weaves bright threads . , 1 36 Green Leaves . . . .137 Oh Fear not Grief . . . 137 SONNETS. To Emma D. i. . . , 138 To Emma D. ii. ... 139 To the Memory of Charlotte C. . , 140 INDEX. The Hours 141 Night 142 To Lucy M. . 143 A Scene 144 To Gertrude F. . 145 The Failing Senses 146 Nets . 147 The Two Portraits 148 Christ's Sepulchre 149 The Appeal 150 The Bride of Christ 151 The Lord's Prayer, i. 152 The Lord's Prayer, ii. 153 The Lord's Day, i. 154 The Lord's Day, il. 155 INDEX TO TRANSLATIONS. FROM TBE SWEDISH. Tegner . Frithiof and Ingeborg 159 King Bele audThorsten Vikingsson . 167 Ingeborg's Lament 179 Anna Maria Lenngren . Boys 182 Castle and Cottage 186 Franzen . The Mother by the Cradle 189 God's Will be done ! . 193 Geijer . Death 195 Walljn . Sunday Morning 197 Frederika Bremer . . The Water Lily 200 Dying Song . 204 1 Thirst 205 FROM THE DANISH. Extracts from Valdemar the Great and his Men 207 *Old Ballad . . .The Return of the Dead 229 Oehlenschlager . . The Jeweller . . 234 6 HOLST INDEX TO TRANSLATIONS. When Closed are Mine Eyes O Fatherland, what hast thou Lost On the Coronation of King Christian Requiem 239 244 245 248 FROM THE GERMAN, Burger Goethe Schiller Uhland KORNER Stolberg The Happy Lover 250 The Minstrel 253 Nearness of the Beloved 256 The Ideal 258 The Sharing of the Earth 263 The Return of the Poet 266 The Shepherd's Sunday Song 268 The Death-feeHng 269 The Castle by the Sea . 270 The Song of the Moun- tain Boy . 273 The Serenade 275 Gossamer 276 Praise of the Spring . 277 Words of an Old Man . 278 Prayer Dui^ing the Battle 279 Tell's Chapel 282 INDEX TO TRANSLATIONS. Matthisson , . Love's Magic . 284 Salis . . The Future Life . 285 Anonymous . . Love . 287 NOVALIS . • . Consolation . . 289 FROM THE FRENCH. Clotilde de SURVILLE . To my First-born . 292 Racine . . Chorus from Athalie . 296 Lamartine . . "Dieu" . 297 Hymn to Grief . . 299 FROM THE ITALIAN. Tasso Petrarch Alfieri Machiavelli . The Death of Clorinda . 303 . Before the Death of Laura — Sonnet clxxxiv 307 After the Death of Laura — Sonnet ii. . 308 „ xviii. . 309 „ xxi. . 310 „ xxiv. . 311 „ xxxiv. . 312 „ xliv, . 313 „ Ixxxv. . 314 „ Ixxxvi . 315 . To the Chamber of Petrarch . 316 . Opportunity . . 317 INDEX TO TRANSLATIONS. Tansillo . Sonnet Composed during an Acute Illness 319 FiLICAJA . Remorse 320 Manara . The Tomb of Charle- magne 321 Adele Curti . . Song of the Gipsy 322 Bertola . . Black Eves and Blue . 326 FROM THE SPANISH Melendez Valdes . . Flowers . . 328 Lupercio de Argensola . Sonnet on Deliverance from a Violent Death 333 / Bartolomlde Argensola. Father of All, Sonnet 334 FROM THE PORTUGUESE. Camoens .... Before the Death of Catharina de Ataide, Sonnet xxxiv. . 335 ,, XXXV. . 336 „ xc. . . 337 After her Death, Sonnet clxxxvi. . . 338 POEMS. THE WORTH OF BEAUTY. Fonnosos olhos, que cuidado dais A mesma luz do sol mais clara e pura ; Que sua esclarecida formosura Com tanta gloria vossa, atraz deixais ; Camoens. Poets call the sun less bright Than their lady's eyes of light ; And her golden hair, they say, Hath more radiance than the day ; While the moon, for envy pale, Makes of vapoury clouds a veil. THE WORTH OF BEAUTY. But they own, a little dust Is all this in which they trust, Like the earth on which they tread. Which shall o'er these glories spread. Yet let none disdain the grace Lent unto each lovely face — It may be, the sun less bright Is than mortal orbs of light ; "When the soul with living ray Dawns to a more glorious day, And the mansion of the soul Cannot its high guest control. Every look and gesture tells What the thing that in it dwells — Whether breathing with the breath Of life divine, or guilty death ! Yet, alas ! e'en while I speak. Dimples of a downy cheek, Smiles on lip of faultless cm-ve, Make the sober judgment swerve ! THE WORTH OF BEAUTY. Little feeling goes so far In eyes clear as midnight star ; Little pity much appears When they lucid shine thro' tears ; Little wit can much inspire When red lips fan hright the fire ; How refined and pure a grace Li a perfect form we trace ! Tho' sometimes that charm is hroken By a slight and passing token, Telling us there dwells within That we should not care to win. Then, perhaps, a truer smile, From pure eyes eclipsed ere while, On our weary spirit throws Hallowed nature's soft repose. Ah ! when mind and matter meet In an equal union sweet, Purified from worldly dross, For sceptre, bearing daUy cross, THE WOETH OF BEAUTY. Then indeed is beauty bright With a pure celestial light. Poet ! then the garment praise, Fitted to its wearer's ways, But soul-less beauty never trust. It- must render dust to dust. If too, on some form uncouth Thou hast looked, where never youth "With sweet grace in playful guise Flashed thro' arch and happy eyes ; A form that seemed from birth decreed To wear, for joy, the widow's weed ; To every work-day use a prey, But aU unmeet for holiday, — Look ! Poet, look on her again ; If her calm eyes do not complain. If her voice yield no selfish moan. Thus without love a wanderer lone, And if her homely smile reveal A heart that others' joy can feel ; THE WOETH OF BEAUTY. If the coarse hands, not soft nor white, Neglect with kindness still requite ; If, while her form to earth is bowed. Her eyes -see heaven without a cloud, And all her hope, her joy, her love, Are lent her from the world above, — Then think what dwells within the breast. What's hidden by so rude a vest,— The form thou deem'st of all most fair, With that veiled soul cannot compare ; And even through the veil will shine Some glory of a light divine ! .ANGEL'S VISITS. An angel's fleeting visit brings To men too short a bliss ; Scarce fanned by waving of their wings, Ere the brief joy we miss ! Yet oft, an atmosphere of light Lingers where they have been ; Dew is more clear, the flowers more bright, The earth more freshly green ; The voices of the loved more sweet, Their smile more soft and kind ; Oh Angels ! the' your wings are fleet, Ye leave a trace behind ! THE POET-HEART. Unto some men may, belong The Poet-heart without the tongue ; Let those never, pining, grieve, Who both gifts do not receive ; Dear is that which they obtain, It hath not been given in vain ! They in every homely duty See a sweet ideal beauty. Making home itself more dear, More so with each passing year. The purple violet sweeter blows And ftdler perfume breathes the rose, All things hidden depths revealing To the tender Poet-feeling. Each ray of sunny light they prize, As coming from the holy sMes ; THE POET-HEAET. Whether on Palace tower it shine, Or tremhle on the cottage vine ; Whether it sUver-edge the cloud Whence roll the peals of thunder loud, Or dye with gold those fleeces white Bordering calm sides ere fall of night. Yet if these would touch the string Of heavenly harp, and upward wing Sun-kindled thoughts, whose thrilling tone All hearts should echo as their own — Faltering, confused, the notes expire, The weak hand, sinking, drops the lyre ! Almost they catch those sweetest Bounds, The star-song heard beyond earth's hounds, Almost give back the dying fall, But the almost — loses all ! THE MIDNIGHT SUN. In crimson splendour rests the Midnight Sun, And Nature pauses, now his race hath run. Earth needs no dusky veil to give repose, Creation the Creator's fiat knows. Still are the rippling wave and snowy surf. The Deer is sleeping on the lichened turf, The Wildfowl nestle on the lake's fair breast In reedy homes ; clouds on their progress rest. More awful now the Midnight Noon in light. Than is the darkest time of darkest night ; Not linked to fantasies of spectral hour, But imaging Almighty, wakeful Power. — Brief is the pause — the Sun no longer stays His upward course, hut slow resumes his rays ; Softly the light of new-horn day comes forth, And gives to earth the morning of the North. 10 OUR SOLDIERS. Weep for our Soldiers bright and hallowed tears ! ' The wounded, maimed, the bravely, nobly dead ! No drops of hopeless grief for them be shed ; No gloomy pall upon their memory spread. Blest be each thought of them through future years ! Weep for our Soldiers bright and hallowed tears ! Day after day they bore the hardest lot ; Night after night they braved impending death : They toiled and suffered to their latest breath, E'en when most doubtftd of victorious wreath : Let England's tears then consecrate the spot Where lie her heroes : be it ne'er forgot ! OUR SOLDIEES. 11 Yet shed no bitter, no repining tears 1 • What though some loved one rests in unmarked grave, His glory with his country lives ; to save His country's honour he his best blood gave. When we " our Soldiers " praise, his name appears : Weep for our Soldiers bright and hallowed tears I It was not courage only — ^patience more Ennobling, under unexampled woes : Not only the brave rush upon our foes When throbs the heart, and warm the life-blood flows, But the calm patience that all misery bore. Endurance firm and strong when hope was o'er. Their torturing anguish wrung from them no cries ; Worn with fatigue, disease, and want of food, They suffered with heroic fortitude ; Not in the stoic's hard and scornful mood, But patient, seeking with deep earnest eyes Through God's own servants all his grace suppHes. 12 OnB SOLDIERS. And some had always, mid all dangers, deemed Their Grod a shield, a fortress, ever near ; To Him committed all that they held dear. And their own souls, before Him to appear Whenever summoned, as by Christ redeemed, To live in endless joy, by man undreamed. Weq) for our Soldiers bright and hallowed tears ! All own how noble low-bom men may be : — Bretlnren of all degrees ! seek unity In love's true peace and blessed charity. The rainbow on the thunder- cloud appears : — Weep for our Soldiers bright and hallowed tears ! 13 FAIRY LAND. I wandered once from human things afar. Led by no Angel, guided by no star ; — From the dense living masses of the crowd Beneath their daily labour ever bowed ; From life, from love, from truth, from light of day. From science, conflict, energy away ! Till at the last I left the world of men, And Fairy-land received the stranger then. There was I welcomed, and with courteous grace The Fairies gave me honourable place. • I saw their splendid court ; the lofty towers, The palaces, the gardens and the bowers. 14 FAIRY LAND. Through the vast halls a dazzling radiance spread, From magic lamps on midnight revels shed. How fair the dames and maidens'! oh how bright Seemed all I viewed by that delusive light ! Serene, cahn converse, in low silver tone Floated around, nor one o'er others shone ; No wit nor wisdom jarred on their repose. No rash emotion in their bosoms rose. So sweet, so calmly cold, so unimprest "With aught distinctive is a Fairy's breast ; Unless when they, fantastic, wayward, wild, Ape, in their eldrich mirth, the gay pranks of a child. Oh ! there was something phantom-like, to scare My human heart, which still was throbbing there, And felt instinctively that, all around, No other heart beat in the enchanted bound. Yet softly smiled the Fairy Ladies all, An& melting music floated through the hall. The Fairy Knights held exquisite controul O'er the slight essence which they call their soul ; FAIBY LAND. 15 They never set it free to rouse and stir, For aught that love or honour might confer, For any pangs that mortal men endure, Wliile in their spell-bound realm they rest secure. If thousands perish round them in the snow, They only see their own fires' genial glow ; For want of food if thousands roimd them die, They only see their tables' rich supply ; They know how mortals grieve for little pain, Nor would disturb their soft repose in vain. As to God's children the whole earth is given, AU is their country, since embraced by Heaven ; All are their countrjrmen, since brethren all Who on the one Almighty Father call ; So in the adverse sense, on every strand The Fairy-people find their Fairy-land : Yet, by strange magic, it is never near To aught that Patriots strive for and hold dear : No matter mid what nation they are found, The Fairies dwell upon enchanted ground. 16 FAIRY LAND. Wherever sacred ties prove frail as thread And holy precepts may be backward read, Where right is wrong, and wrong appears as right, And night is day, and day is turned to night, And things of worth in mystic shadows lie. And worthless things are glorious to the eye. And nothing is held dear but empty sport, There thrives at once the Fairies' phantom court. There are ignored despair and agony, And all that swells creation's groaning cry. How can the Fairy beings share or know Our mortal guilt, our mortal shame and woe? Why should they seek to help and heal distress When their enjoyments never can be less, And what reverse can touch ethereal forms, Secure from want, and sheltered fr-om all storms ? Is this their time of proving, and of strife To win the glories of eternal life? Poor phantoms that to earth alone have claim, Why should we mock them with heaven's blessed name FAIRY LAND. 17 Nay ! let them banish thoughts of heaven or hell, And all their hours in careless pleasure dwell; Feasting and dancing, till the light of day Scare them and all delusive shapes away-^ Though the next midnight brings them back again, Where wiU they be when endless day shall reign? While, yet amid them, magic languor stole O'er every sense, and half subdued my soul, While, slow and slower beating, seemed my heart To lose vitality, and I a part With those around me almost could accept, At once that heart with noble impulse leapt. For I remembered aU I left behind Ere holding commune with the Fairy mind ; Thought of the sweetness of a mortal's lot Where love exists, whatever else does not. That blessed boon which makes e'en suffering dear, O'ercoming every doubt and every fear; Love unto man, and to the Power above, Who only teaches us indeed to love. 18 ' FAIRY LAND. Though want and misery on the earth are found. Still Angels tread upon God's hallowed ground, The missioned ones who in his temples pray, Visit his poor, and wipe sad tears away; With patient courage his commands fulfil. And strive with good to overcome all ill : No matter if from palace or from cot These Angels come, if high or low their lot, With us they own a dear and kindred blood, Patriots with us on common soil have stood, With us look on to destiny more high Than aught but man may hope beneath the sky : - Children of God, and brethren of their race. That Brother's footprints upon earth they trace Who freed the captive, healed the broken heart, — Of Him, of His, I thought, and roused me to depart Ere magic spells should every power suspend, While yet I knew I lived, and to what end, I left the boundaries of the enchanted plain, And breathed among my fellow-men agaiu. As man once more upon God's earth I tread. FAIEY LAND. 19 And see the holy heavens overhead ; Nor cast one glance of fond regret behind, Nor keep one spell of Fairy-land in mind. Bright was the scene I left, but oh how burned My soul for greater things as thence I turned ! What could I miss ? What fault or failure scan ? I missed the throbbing, suffering heart of man ; The might of mental pain; the pangs sublime Of immortality at strife with time ; And all the yearnings of the spirit, pent In clay, to rise to the Omnipotent, Fairy-land ! though bright thy fragrant bowers, I value more the green earth's simplest flowers ; Mid all that seemed to soften and refine, I missed at once the human and divine ! 20 CHILDHOOD'S FLOWER. Let me my chosen guerdon praiae, Her golden disk and silver rays ; What the' upon my temples shine No laurel, be the daisy mine ! May childhood's pleasures spring to sight As often as her flowrets white, May childhood's chaplet still arou»d A calm tho' faded brow be bound. Unharmed as harmless, fresh pure dew She drinks from clouds of darkest hue. And winds that war in fiercest strife Invigorate her hardy life, childhood's flower. 21 While rests her little humble head In safety on its grassy bed. Upon the earth she lowly lies, Looking upward at the skies, Yet " Day's eye" in time of yore Was the noble name she bore : But language now too lightly trips From voluble and careless lips. And skilful gardeners only prize The plants that by their culture rise. And ladies scarcely deign to greet, E'en as a carpet for their feet, The floral peasant maids who bear No perfume on their bosoms fair, But the freshness of the air. The child alone, whose simple mind By worldly bonds is unconfined, Loves more the gift thus flung around, A common plaything on the ground, 22 childhood's flower. Than if it came from India's bowers, The fairest of exotic flowers. Yes, vagrant childhood, checked and chidden The lily and the rose forbidden. In wreaths of daisies takes such pleasure As Fashion's world must fail to measure. And, from man's precincts rudely torn, They are by lovely Nature worn As showers of stars on verdure bright, More numerous than the lamps of night. Oh, Fashion's world, how different thou From God's Creation, even now ; The blooming earth, the radiant skies. Our fair, tho' fallen Paradise ! When thence by Death's strong angel driven Not ours a wilderness, but Heaven, A Father's arms, a Father's smile ! Let us then ask that, free from guile. To us may children's hearts be given. 23 TO THE SKYLAEK. Yes ! 'tis no marvel thy impulsive notes Ecstatic burst, rich plains or wide wastes over ; As thou didst need a thousand warbling throats The joy that fills thy being to discover ; What heed giv'st thou if mead or desert lie Beneath ? thyself, thy song, is in the sky ! Thou from all else in upward flight didst part, Striving away from earth in ceaseless soaring, And to the time of thy warm throbbing heart The notes of joyful freedom ever pouring, Filling the air with undimmed happiness, Heard by so many, that so few possess. 24 TO THE SKYLARK. Nor vainly beating buoyant air with wings That stir around the song and sunshine blended, Each pinion-stroke sustains the voice that sings Where by glad energy it has ascended : Sunlight surrounds, sunlight inspires thy song, Frail as thou art on earth, in heaven how strong. Ah, could the poet, who so longs to cast All sweetness on the air, in language found. And dare the darkest storm, the keenest blast, To shed its dew upon the world's dry ground, Ah, could he lift his heart as high as thine. And all support save that of heaven resign ! Let him but strive in God's own light to pour His heart-notes clear as unto thee 'tis given, Thus in the vital air uplifted soar Above the earth, and ever nearer Heaven ; If but an hour he thus could mount the sky, Forsaking all below, what were his melody ! TO THE SKYLARK. 26 And yet thy earthly form is where we gaze, But gaze not long, bedazzled, and half blind ; Full in the central warmth of sunny rays That little form, by ether blue refined, Seems but a speck just visible in air, As if thy voice alone were living there. As thou hast risen, so must thou sink again, Drawn down by earthly needs and sympathies, And, even above, dost in that light retain All harmless, pure-created tendencies ; So mortals may, who half to earth belong Join earth with heaven in pure immortal song : Fulfil their destiny above, below, Nor scorn the homely needs and claims of Time, Meek at the ebb, if joyful at the flow Of melody too sweet for earthly clime. And to the common tones of common things Lend music as of those who still have wings ! 26 TO E. C. H.— ON HIS FIRST GOING TO SEA. Farewell, dearest Boy ! to thy sea-beaten home We must let thee depart, o'er the wild waves to roam. Yet to heart-warm affection returning again, Unchanged as our memory, may'st thou remain ! May the candour of childhood still brighten thy brow, May thy smile be as joyous and tender as now. May thy gaze be as steadfast in honour and truth, Never flinching from duty, tho' melting in ruth. Farewell ! serve thy Queen and thy country with zeal. With the loyal devotion each Briton should feel. Yet think to whose service thy first pledge v/as given. To One whose liigh throne is exalted in Heaven. Thou art bought with His blood, thou art marked with His name, For thee was the Cross, and for thee was the shame ; Then never prove false, never shrink from His face, — To desert His bright standard were cowardly base. TO E. C. H. 27 But if thy frail nature should shrink from His side "Who counted no cost when for rebels he died, If the scorn of the world for a moment appal thee, And its mean laugh of mockery suddenly gaU thee. Or the tumult of pleasure bewUder thy sense Till thou weigh not the act that to Him is offence, Oh ! heed the first whisper that bids thee return To the friend who thy trespass will tenderly mourn. He sees the fuU radiance of Heaven from his throne. Love glory and pleasure are there, there alone, And He looks on the Earth, which to thee is so fair, As a footstool scarce worthy His sandal to bear, Yet hears the low murmur of penitent prayer. Seek comrades in arms for the Holy and True, Such brotherly bond will thy courage renew. For there never were warriors, on land or on wave. Like the followers of Him who is mighty to save. They cannot turn back, they have chosen their parts, With one name on their lips and one love in their hearts, The helm of Salvation sheds light on their brows. The sword of the Spirit transfixes their foes, 28 TO E. C. H. And the broad shield of Faith as a mirror reflects The form of that Chief who no suppliant rejects. He leads on their troops. He directs all their powers, From the North's frozen realms, j&:om the South's perfumed bowers, From the East and the "West, in this wide world of ours, He gathers His army, they come at His word, A conquering band on the battle-field poured : As borne on the pinions of eagles they speed, They faint not for weariness, sink not for need. They brave tempest and shipwreck His truth to proclaim, They pass scathless and free through devoiuing flame. In their weakness is strength, they wax valiant in fight, And the Hosts of the aliens are scattered in flight, And swept to the borders of Chaos and Night. Be now, as of old, to their Captain the fame. And for ever : His soldiers are called by His name. To Him be all conquests, all glory restored. They are Victors alone by the arm of their Lord ! m THE LITTLE MAIDE:^. Come hither, child, and I will try To sketch thy portrait faithfully. Ere thy ninth summer sun shine bright On chesnut locks and forehead white. A brow more clear, serene and fair. Could little maiden never wear. Beneath it, eyes of chesnut hue Look sweet, and bright, and kindly true Thy classic outline, pure yet soft, I gaze on fondly oft and oft : No mouth hath sweeter form than this. No lips are pleasanter to kiss : Thy dimpled cheek, thy pretty chin — Where shall I end when I begin 30 THE LITTLE MAIDEN, To count thy charms — ^the colour bright, The little form so trim and light. Yet, if I live to see thee grow Less fair, when mine are locks of snow, Shall I indeed then love thee less ? Thou hast a pure soul's loveliness, — My little Maiden, it were strange If I to thee could ever change ! 31 THE LOVELY WOMAN. I care not if her eyes be grey, Or green, or brown, or blue, Or if her mouth be wide — ^it may. But all her smiles are true. What if her nose, a thought deprest, Be not like Greek or Homan, Yet I protest, let who will jest, Kate is a lovely woman! A face as fresh, and gay, and fair As maiden's e'er can be, With neatly twined and braided hair One may rejoice to see. THE LOVELY WOMAN. A fsLCe that has a pleasant smile, Now beaming, arch and joyous, Now thoughtfolj being all the while Pure nature, can it cloy us? A face unsoured by frowning care, Her duty her delight, And — contradict me if you dare — Man needs no lovelier sight. Yes ! laugh at me with laughter's zest. As sui'e as I'm a true man, I still protest, let who will jest, Kate is a lovely woman ! She sings about her daily task TiU the old house is glad. Her kind heart needs and wears no mask. Her mirth makes no one sad. She's something sweet, she's something blest, Angelic and yet human. And I protest, let who will jest, That Kate's a lovely woman ! 33 THE SEASONS. First came the Spring, sweet frolic in her eyes, Brighter for tears that she no more remembered : A fitful sunshine playing in her hair Which in loose ringlets caught the golden gleams ; Girdled by yellow, white, and purple buds. She beckoned on her mates, who followed her In order due. The rose-flushed Summer stepped Gently and slow, and from her rich embrace That held a wealth of flowers, she dropped around Their tender blossoms, scenting all the air. But withering on the track that lay behind her. Her brow was sunny fair, a bright-lipped smile Breaking like morning's radiance the repose Of her soft features — with a loitering grace 34 THE SEASONS. She bore her flowery burden, and caressed With dewy fingers all the leaves and flowers. Autumn, with matron veil and stately bearing Followed : in ample folds her russet robe Flowed round her, rich with gold and ruby hues. Ripe ears of com made her a golden sceptre. Calm, calm were lip and brow : a deep content Was in her eyes ; her voice was soft and whispering When she to Summer spoke ; but unto Winter Louder and deeper toned, although not harsh. He smiled to her — a hale and stalwart man — White locks, a withered cheek, betokened age, But his loud shout was heard from hill to Mil ; Clear was his eye, tho' sometimes angry clouds Would dim it for a time. Well laden was he With many an implement of art's long toil. And oft he read in books as on he went. About these Seasons four the light hours played ; They came and went, — half of the fleeting train Dark veiled and starry crowned ; half robed in white, With golden locks free floatmg loosely round. THE SEASONS. 35 The airy moments, scarcely visible, So swift their flight, on small transparent wings Took colour from the atmosphere, in shades And lights unnumbered. MANIAC'S SONG. Sun ! veil thy glaring light, Wrap me in shades, Oh Night ! Sadly I wander, for Love is no more. Colder than Winter's snow, Friends, once so tender, grow, No one now loves me, for Love is no more. Father and Mother's heart Harden — none take my part — Ah ! who can love me, now Love is no more. Courage is failing me. Welcome would slumher be. Yes ! the death-slumber, now Love is no more. Kind Death, I feel thee now. Cooling my burning brow, Thou art my only Friend — ^Love is no more ! 37 HOMELY MAIDENS. *' It is for homely features to keep home, They have their name thence.'*— Comus. Homely maidens, ne'er repine That ye are not called divine ; For God's likeness ye may bear, E'en as those esteemed most fair. Your eyes can take in all Heaven's blue Like those that emulate its hue ; Your lips can speak as kind a word As e'er from- those more rosy heard ; Ye may obtain as sweet a praise As e'er did Beauty's colour raise ; For 'tis the praise of worth alone That echoes in the heart's pure tone ; HOMELY MAIDENS. And sMning in each homely face May be a far diviner grace Than was in heathen times admired, When Helen her great Bard inspired. Oh ! homely faces, if from home Ye have your name, how dear a doom There bids your smiles become its light, Than all the world bestows more bright ! And if, in every act and will, God's pm'poses you would fulfil Till your soul blend with the divine And e'en the earthly form refine, Need you, homely maids, repine ? 39 THE CLOISTER CELL. Mine be a yielded, silent will, A resting, trusting heart, Whose inward life flows calm and stil!, . From busy crowds apart. Upon the lip responding smiles, Kind words, sweet songs for others, Waiting that home where we exiles Shall live and love as brothers : But in the heart — which all must fail Save God throughout to trace, Whose feelings lie behind the veil Of a calm, tranquil face ; Where the soul's dearest wishes dwell In their unseen abode — But in the heart's lone cloister- cell Be solitude with God I 40 TO MAGDALEN. Sweet Magdalen, fairest Magdalen ! Dost thou revive that ancient name again, Of her whose tears once washed the Saviour's feet ? She bore a weight of sorrow not unmeet, Thou by no humbling agony art bent, In nought resemblest thou that Penitent. Thy clear untroubled gaze dares meet all eyes, Serene and open as the cloudless sMes ; Thy lip hath laughter's loveliness, — thus flow The rippling waters o'er calm depths below. Fair Magdalen ! no shadow veils thy brow ; Yet low as hers bend down thy forehead calm, Radiant with fearless maiden purity. Pour gratitude as ointment's fragrant balm On those dear feet once nailed to the tree — TO MAGDALEN. 41 She knew not all His love — thou knowest He died for thee ! Nor wanting be thy tears, in genial shower, Thus prostrated, from melting heart distilled, In joy of pardoned penitence ; His power, Whose love eternal that poor heart hath filled, Adoring in prayer's lonely, sacred hour. Who in God's light is pure ! or who shall measure The offences cancelled by His sovereign grace, And say, " For me was spent less precious treasure Than needed was for yonder sinner base ?" Thou'rt bought as surely by His love divine, As if the sins of the whole world were thine. 42 TO AN INFANT. Scarce I know how now thou seemest, And far less of what thou dreamest, Little flower, whose soft blooms close In such sweet and full repose ! Who can guess the Rose's heart Ere summer sun its petals part, Or know how rich may prove its dyes, How fragrant may its perfume rise ? Be love thy blessed summer sun, And shine until thy days are done ; From Heaven its rays, — earth's atmosphere But makes its light to men appear, E'en when it seems declining low, For then with yet a brighter glow On mists and clouds of passing sorrow Its light foretells Heaven's glorious morrow. TO AN INT ANT. 43 When I saw thee last, serene With a perfect calm, thy mien Shewed no trace of an emotion. Woman's deep and fond devotion To the objects best beloved Slept unconscious and unproved ; Yet how touching and how fair Helpless innocence lay there, Of hallowed sweetness more reveaKng Than dwells with strong impetuous feeling. Love in all around inspiring, Though none yet thyself desiring, So placid in thy calm content To thee unearthly peace seemed lent, One might have thought a Dove's bright wing Thy meek head was covering. And well we know whose holy power Guards us. from first to latest hour. If childhke underneath His wing We shrink not from its fostering. 44 TO. AN INFANT. Thou hast numbered since thy birth, Recent comer unto earth, Days and weeks full easy told, Thine age the primal age of gold ; And of good or evil nought Unto thee by man is taught. For like Eve in Paradise, Thou art yet more blest than wise ; But though through every future year All finite hope be blent with fear, Most blest thou art that when to thee Unfolds our mortal destiny, The sin, the sorrow and the strife Entwined with every dying life, To thee shall also be unfurled The standard that redeems the world, To thee shall also be made known Thy Saviour on a Conqueror's Throne ! 45 THE MOTHEK. Over her child she bends, her cheek rests on him, On his fair head as quietly he stands — What tenderness of attitude, so simple, So still, and yet expressing more than words ! No strongly twined embrace, no passionate movement. But closely clinging, softly touching him, As though her soul with his then held communion Deeper and purer than mere speech can utter ! 46 PILGRBI SONG. I know of Love — ^its sorrow, I know of Hope — ^its fear, I know of Joy-^to -morrow ! I seek a liome — ^not here ! Above, and yet above, Higher than thought can soar, A home of Joy and Love, Where Hope shall be no more. 47 CONVENT LAY. Across the bright blue sky Float lovely lingering clouds ; Their forms oft change on high From Angel-wings to shrouds! On distant gleaming sea Their shadows chequer light. But all is gloom in me, My shroud brings early night. Soft waving shadows fly Over the bending grass, Oh that each thought and sigh Leaving no trace might pass ! 48 CONVENT LAY. These from my convent cell I look on, and am sad ; I never more may dwell Where aught can make me glad. The free winds sweep the grass The free clouds shade the sea ; Alas for me, alas ! Who holt on what is free ! 49 EVENING. Evening comes ! the veil of night Rests upon her lovely brow. And its folds descend — the bright Flushing cheek is hidden now, Night enwraps her : while a crown Formed of stars wiU sadly fail To console for going down Of day's radiance : ah how pale Is the nun within her veil ! 50 LINES SUPPOSED TO BE WRITTEN BY A BLIND LADY. When last I looked uiDon the earth, It wore a mantle green, Tints of young leaves and opening flowers Were blending o'er the scene ; The tranquil sea reflected hack The azure of the skies. And harks with snowy sails appeared Like floating butterflies. But not a moment of my grief Was by the view beguiled, Which still went on increasing more As all around me smiled : LINES BY A BLIND LADY. 51 It seemed so hard that Fate should now My life from vision sever, That I should look on the fair Spring, And close mine eyes for ever ; That signs of promise, life, and joy Should meet me everywhere. While yet I knew that all my thoughts Were leading to Despair. And I believed I should have felt Less sad mine early doom, If earth and sea had shrouded been In winter's dreary gloom. Then Blindness came, and Hope unknown. Which lingered in my breast, Departed, and my soul was left In moumfalness and rest. But soon I found within my heart That new-bom feeling rose. And happiness, from the Unseen, Beyond what sight bestows. 52 A MOTHER WAKENING HER CHILD. Wake ! my child, I come to seek In thine eyes their day- dawn meek ; Wake ! my child, I come to say " Greet another holiday !" So, indeed, thy days are all, White and holy may they fall In light from Heaven on thy road To an ever blest abode : Free from servile labour — free From all sinftil misery. Doing but God's holy will As thine own, — thine own fulfil. Atom of the frailest clay With a soul to last for aye, Heavenly fire in earthly shrine, A MOTHER WAKENING HEE CHILD. 53 God's thou art, — ^yet, in Him, mine ; Underneath each pure white lid Deep blue eyes are lying hid ; Thus in Spring time falling snow Might cover violets, bright below. I speak softly, and he hears not, Sleep the low-breathed whisper fears not : While I call him to awaken. Scarce I wish the rest forsaken That in peace so perfect holds The soft image it enfolds. Yet we to restless life must give FuU half our time, and learn to live, Tho' grief should mar our waking hours Eather than lose in sleep our powers. And each day for thee must win Knowledge — thou dost drink it in ! AH thy steps on lawn or floor Re^ons new for thee explore ; livery word thy tongue can frame Of some wonder is the name. 54 A MOTHEE WAKENING HER CHILD. Or, from soul to soul, communion Opens, for love's mystic union. How thou hang'st on every word From a fellow creature heard ; How thy boundless thirst to know Ever questions high and low ; How thou vainly striv'st to utter Thoughts in broken words that flutter, All in wished for communing. Thine infant soul with ours to bring !' And we are all but infant souls While far from God this planet rolls^ Like children we ask question high. To which no sage can make reply ; But when we to our Father go And see Him — ^we shall aU things know. My child— ah ! then no more my child An equal Angel, strong and mild. Saint, friend for ever thou may^st be, But Mother's son no more to me I A MOTHEE WAKENING HEE CHILD. 55 Sweetly the earthly instinct thrills My breast, and all my being fills ; It seems as though no other love Could sweeter, fonder, purer prove ; But He who gave such feelings here Can give us others yet more dear. The mother may forget her son, God of his own forgets not one, And when we see Him as He is, Our love will be as piu-e as His, In Him to live, and move, and be, Is happiest Infinity ! But, while I linger and delay, With silent step comes on the day ; How many thoughts, my Babe, arise From thy small couch toward the skies, And when I turn from Heaven to thee I turn not far away ! — But see. See, he wakens ! on the flush Of his cheek dark lashes brush 56 A MOTHER WAKENING HER CHILD. Fanning it to brighter glow — Ah ! if I could paint him so ! Round his mouth is hovering A smile, not yet discovering If he wills to sleep or wake — Waken, babe, for Mother's sake ! Has he dreamt an Angel's kiss Wooed him imto heavenly bliss ? See, the smile more lovely grows While again his eyelids close. Shutting out all worldly sight For a tision of delight. Yes ! could he the forms behold Bearing heavenly harps of gold, Who their rapt and loving gaze Fix upon the one they praise — Yes ! if he could hear what tones Spread in ever widening zones From the central Unity Of infinite Divinity, A MOTHER WAKENING HEB CHILD. 57 Where those choral Angels round Bow before the Throne, uncrowned — Then upon his mother's face Could his dazzled eyes e'er trace Her love, or to her human voice Leap his heart-pulse and rejoice ? That were wo — But not so Hath Omnipotence ordained, Heavenly harp-strings are not strained. To the lowliest, humblest things, True each chord of rapture rings : Love to God, and love to man, Thus the Heavenly chorus ran, Ever since love's sacrifice Bought us back lost Paradise. Babe ! it was thine earthly mother Kissed thee then, not any other : Unto earth awaken, sweet, Thou for it created meet. 58 A MOTHEE WAKENING EEE CHILD. On its lap no longer lie, Dreaming only of the sky. But, for Heaven created too. Waken, babe ! thy praise is due Both for Heaven and for earth, Future joy, and present mirth ; Fold thy little hands and pray Unto Him who hears alway When we " Our Father," say. 59 MEMORY AND HOPE. Of Memory the pleasures have been sung, But Memory's pains the heart have often wrung, When past as present is, without the power And sympathy vouchsafed to sorrow's hour : Remembrances perchance assail the mind, And all life's trials, in brief space combined. Form one dark chain unbroken.— So anew The expanse they've trodden travellers review, And only see rock, cliff, and steep ascent Which in a stern continuous course seem blent ; While flowers that mingled with each dreary scene. The genial path that cheered their steps between, The way-side brook that slaked their thirst, the glade Which sheltered them, in gathering darkness fade. 60 MEMORY AND HOPE. Such Memory's insidious baleful spell The energy of present hours to quell ; But Hope, even where she seemeth dead can live In the unconscious heart, and comfort give : Twice blest, she cheers on earth and lifts to heaven- Oh, thought of joy for souls who hard have striven. That Hope there needless as unfelt will be, Remaining only as a Memory. 61 TO ONE BELOVED AND KEVERED, WHO HAD LOST THE POWER OF SPEECH FOE NEARLY TWO YEARS BEFORE HIS DEATH. His mind remained quite clear and his feelings warm and tender, but he could no longer command the faculty of ex- pressing them either in speech or in writing : even though he could readily and without effort copy what others had writ- ten. And is thy spirit captive in its dwelling ; Debarred from intercourse by earthly word ; Forbidden too to join the full choir, swelling Through the eternal heavens, but here unheard ? Forbidden kindly greeting to the many Whom every tone of thy deep voice could charm ; Forbidden e'en to tell thy dearest any Of the true, tender feelings still so warm ? Ah ! is it so with thee whose firm clear mind In clearest language every thought defined ? 62 TO ONE belo\t:d and eevered. Such were indeed imprisonment more dreary Than lonely captive's in a dungeon-cell, If loved ones round of kindness ne'er should weary, Yet thou wert reft of means thy love to tell ; If, nevermore with them to hold communion, Thine every rising thought unuttered died, If to no other soul, in blessed union. Thy solitary spirit were allied ! Ah, let not that bright, living fire be doomed Like lamp in sepulchre, to burn entombed ! Wherefore such fear ? It has far nobler powers, It is God's breath, the dust it animates. Soul often speaks to soul in sUent hours "With influence that each being elevates. One moment's glance, the slight expressive gesture. Instinct with life that shall not here have end. Shews the clear spirit through its earthly vesture. And child to sire unites, and friend to Mend ! Oh more, far more than any words convey Can heart and soul unto their kindred say ! TO ONE BELOVED AND EEVERED. 63 Thus, if at times the sudden irritation Of fettered utterance conquers even thee, How kindly dost thou render compensation With penitent, sweet, tender courtesy ! Free from cold, wounded pride, thy gentle bearing Gives graciously to high and low their dues, All that thou canst impart with others sharing A cordial greeting thou wilt ne'er refuse. Yea, speechless, thou hast commune with thy kind Where others never care such ties to bind. I thank God for the power unto thee given His word to read — when other things seem clear Through voice of child or friend alone — oh ! heaven. As earth recedes from us, comes very near. And shall we judge, because thy voice no longer Can unto fellow-mortals speak thy mind. That God's own grace may not each day grow stronger In thy secluded soul, by fire refined : For whom God loves he chastens ; for awhile We suffer, but Faith sees a Father's smile I 64 TO ONE BELOVED AND EEYEEED. In God we live, and move, and have our being. Each act of patience, faith, and love, to TTin^ Speaks a clear language, and his Spirit, freeing Souls from all bondage, from the dull and dim And earthly senses, leads to that communion Which needs no words, but lifts us from the earth. With God and all His saints to live in union, Kenewed and hallowed by the heavenly birth ; No longer natives of the base and low. But heirs of heaven, whence all our blessings flow. To God alone the heart entirely speaketh What for our fellow-men no language frames ; The heart that still its Maker's presence seeketh Needs for its thoughts to find no vocal names. He reads our silence ; purified desires Of will and wish ; within our throbbing hearts : He reads far more of all that He inspires, Than human eloquence to man imparts : Heaven's language is not earth's, then grieve no more, God understands thy thoughts long, long before ! TO ONE BELOVED AND EEVEEED. 65 'Tis sweet to think the last that thou hast written, With power to show thy thoughts to other eyes, Is in hebalf of the oppressed and smitten, Whom some, that pity all men else, despise. While greeting her whose tale of highest power Won for the slave compassion and respect.—- Ah, from thine earliest to thy latest hour, The cause of mercy thou didst ne'er neglect ! Mercy and justice joined : how deeply felt Was doom pronounced, when pity might not melt. Time now for thee is past, the time of bearing The bm-den which thy God upon thee laid, And thou, we trust, in Paradise art sharing With happy beings, rest for earth not made. No longer in the house of prayer attending, .Infirm and feeble, shall thy form be seen, More honoured thus, in humble worship bending, Than on the judgment-seat thy noble mien — In heaven's vast temple now lift up thy voice. And in glad hymns before thy God rejoice ! 66 SONG OF EMIGRANTS ON THEIR VOYAGE OUT. O'er a liquid world float we, The fathomless wide sea, Our girdled globe with heaving floods surrounding, But terror comes not near Those who God's name revere, Who know and trust His grace and love aboun^ug. Should tempests rage, we know The peace He can bestow Subdues the waves of life, the waves of oc€an ; He who above the deep Did sinking Peter keep Can guard our lives o'er billows' wildest motion. SONG OF EMIGEANTS. 67 Safe as within the ark Do we our all embark If trusting in the might of God's salvation ; For towards the promised shore He guides us evermore, His new, eternal, and unstained creation. Then as we reach the strand Of that blest plenteous land To which Hope points, our earthly weal foretelling, May we remember there And ask in earnest prayer Homes in the world unseen, of God the dwelling ! 68 TRACES OF TIME. Time sweeps his shadowy pinions over us, And each stroke tells upon us as he flies, Though soft the touch may be as downy plumes Stolen from the bird that lines her nest with them. Thus imperceptibly, as if caressing, He brushes from the eye its dewy lustre, And in a delicate tracery that deepens To sculpture year by year, gives faithful record Of what in all these years we think and do. Sorrow and care draw harsher lines than Time, Marring the visage from soft dignity And sweet repose, the loveliness of age : But nought can take away a higher beauty, Which, when the soul is given up to God Reveals e'en through the marred and mortal frame Communion with blest immortality. 69 THE BROKEN HEART. Maiden ! on thee the lot doth light Of heaviness and sorrow, Hope unto thee hath bid good night, And ne'er shall bid good morrow ! Yet ocean depths have waveless rest When storms above are sweeping, Wrecks o'er them float, but calm the breast Of him who there lies sleeping. Anguish dilates that tearless eye Of sweet, yet vacant gaze. It echoes in the half breathed sigh Which on thy lip delays. 70 THE BEOKEN HEABT. Those pallid lips in gentle curve Languid and soft dissever, As if death's slumber stiQed each nerve And they no more might quiver. Meekly thy hand obeys command, The weary will it stirs not, To thee the same are praise and blame, The broken heart prefers not : For ocean depths have waveless rest Though storms above are sweeping, Wrecks o'er them float, but calm the breast Of him who there lies sleeping. " Maiden ! for that of greatest worth The least in worth be given ! Dead, awful night, that hides the earth Reveals a glorious Heaven. And Heaven is calm, but Heaven is blest, Whoso the world forsaketh Finds there repose : how glad the rest Of him who there awaketh !" THE BROKEN HEART. Time lias gone by, and onee again I see thee : it has sped With prayer, and therefore not in vain. Though ne'er came back the dead. I see now in thy far off gaze That grief's despair is shriven ; Sweet is the calm of eyes that raise Their hope alone to Heaven. That far off gaze no earthly shore Seeks, laved by stormy sea, No wreck it meets in sweeping o'er Blue Ether's purity ! Oh Heaven is calm, and Heaven is blest, Whoso the world forsaketh Finds there repose : how glad the rest Of him who thera awaketh 1 72 MORNING HOURS. Morgenstunde hat Gold im Munde. A Morning hour has gold in its mouth. — German Proverb. Gold-breathing Hours of Morn, From dead cold darkness born, By earliest radiance of warmth, light, and life. ' Be eloquent to me Of earth, and air and sea, Of all the glorious stage of man's more glorious strife. Where, still a conqueror, light Pursues defeated night. Combat and victory are still renewed ; And God supreme shall still Aid man to vanquish ill, All shadows fly from those with heavenly light imbued. MOENING HOUES. 73 Strive we with evil powers While last these radiant hours, Ere darkness vague in shadow all is blending : If the weak mortal faint, Upwards may look the saint, And see from opening heaven the holy fire descending ! Tell then of lonely brake Where early insects wake, And skim the surface of some glittering pool. While all the leaves and flowers Greet ye, gold-breathing hours, And give their welcome forth in dewy fragrance cool. Tell of the mountains bare, Whose ancient foreheads wear The changeful violet shades of passing clouds. Decking with softest grace. The rugged giant race. That wrap so oft their forms in mournful misty shrouds. 74 MOENING HOURS. Tell how such mists their store Of hoarded grief outpour In diamond drops on buds that drooping wait, Or still their treasures keeping, In orient glow lie sleeping, As Angel squadrons ranged before heaven's golden-gate. Tell me of glancing waves Where each mute form, that laves Its curious beauty in the shining sea, Enjoys existence given. As on the winds of heaven The warbling, winged choir, whose accents are set free. The tide-stirred waters gush Brightest when morning's flush Lies on the plains of ocean calm and vast ; Fairer than noon-tide glow. Or shaft from argent bow Are the young day -beams o'er reviving Nature cast. MORNING HOUES, 75 Light glides from heaven to earth In golden harp-strings, worth The loving, tuneful touch of Angel hands: Though man no longer hears The music of the spheres, They kindle flames of song, shining o'er many lands. Of Sage and Poet old, Whose song and wisdom hold Their sway o'er dwellers in a later time, TeU, ye gold-hreathing hours ! May eloquence' hest powers Reward the waking soul in morning's glorious prime ! Ah, rouse the might of song Which should to light belong, Light, early light, unsullied by world-stain : Till like the mounting Lark We soar above the dark, And meet ye mid the skies, and sing in heavenly strain ! 76 MOENING HOUES. Gold-breatMng hours of morn ! Be your first glory worn As before God, a garment to his praise. And eloquent to Him Rise heartfelt prayer, ere dim Its freshness the hot noon, upon life's dusty ways ! 77 FIRST VISION. I saw her when no tears had pearled Her cheek ; one might have said That all the sunlight in the world On her concentrated ; Gleamed on the golden hair that flowed In comitless lines of heauty, Basked on the cheek where roses glowed, As that were all its duty ; Flashed in her eyes with such a zest And glory of existence, It seemed no grief could touch her breast Or find in her subsistence. FIRST VISION. But years have passed, and though again I never have beheld her, I know that she cannot retain Such brightness — Time hath quelled her ! Alas for her, alas poor child ! If but in Time her pleasure She sought, — how little, how defiled, The ALL that it can measure ! 79 SECOND VISION, I tell you of wonders, yet but of a Maiden So gentle, so calm, that the world passed her by, Though of all various evils with which it is laden Not one cast its shade o'er her clear steadfast eye. It seemed to me — could it be only a seeming ? That to earth for an hour some Angel had stooped, And the light of unearthly existence was beaming Beneath the long lashes that thoughtfully drooped. On what did her mind in its loneliness ponder ? The earth was to her but a step to the skies, And however long on its soil she might wander, Eternal already was all she could prize. 80 SECOND VISION. Eternal the love, free from selfish indulgence, To all fellow Pilgrims who with her might roam, And to Him who is Love, and whose Truth's bright effulgence The wilderness showed, while it led her towards home. Within her His Presence immortal when shining Made Time ©f Eternity only a part, At wMch of its sorrows could she be repining. When Hjs Angel dwelt in her deep loving heart ? No more was Time's restless uncertainty beating Within her, and counting the moments that fly. Past, Present and Future in one centre meeting Were offered up there without straggle or sigh. And think not her being was cold and abstracted ; No thoughtless girl's smile had such bright genial glow. As that which on lips sweet and chastened attracted All hearts — not less bright for the calm of her brow I SECOND VISION. 81 And she, in her hands spread towards Heaven, the treasure Of everything lovely, and everything pure — Good gifts, ever perfect — received in full measure, God's kingdom and righteousness first being sure. Nor was it amiss that an Angel I deemed her, E'en here while she walked with her harp yet unstrung, For ever upheld by the One who redeemed her, She was His, as though Heaven's bright legions among. 82 SPECTRES. Oh fear not those who 'neath the greensward sleeping No watch are keepmg : Their feet stretched out beneath the flowery sod Frequent no more the paths they erst have trod ; The throbbing heart is stilled, the weeping eye Is closed and dry : Fear not by night to pass where low they lie ! If ever message be thro' Spirit given 'Tis by the wiU of Heaven, And harms not those who in Heaven's King have trust, Though strangely quail the souls yet linked to dust If thus look back after the parting sigh One earlier entered on Eternity : Yet to the Spirit world, are we not ever nigh ? SCEPTEES. 83 Spirits with corse and grave have no communionj With dust no union : Here if the body seem our corse, our grave. From which so little respite we can have Till freed by Angel-summons to the sky, Why fancy, why, That spirits linger where the clay must lie ? But many a corse walks while broad day is shining, In dark repining, Bearing within no spiritual light. But gloomy as the darkest hour of night. More dangerous than Ghost with wailing cry ;-=- Yet do not fly, Oh, win such back from guilt and misery ! 84 THE EXILE. From friends, from home, so distant thou Art in thine exile dwelling, That grief is ne'er forgotten now Because half lost in telling : For many a far horizon lies Between thy home and thee, Whose varied outline hounds the skies With mountain, tower and tree. Yet between thee and God's high heaven No earth can intervene, That Home is free to gazmg, even JFrom saddest earthly scene. THE EXILE. 85 Breathings of boundless love alone Fill up the unmeasured space, From where sits the Almighty One To Earth's most wretched place. Swifter than eye can pierce the sky May heartfelt prayer ascend ; Then never say in griefs dismay Thou art without a Friend ! THE THEEE CHILDKEN. I saw three children, soft and fair. Like Angels breathing mortal air. They and the world were strangers, In it they had no part, Th^ little guileless rangers Led onward by the heart ! As yet world-maxims, keenly cold, FeU on unheeding ears ; • Its seeming prudence, worn and old. Had cost them yet no tears. For they were fresh ; no warped deception. No gloss, no argued wrong could sever Them from the first clear strong perception That right is right now and for ever : And custom's veil had not yet dimmed their eyes Unto the truly great and truly wise. THE THKEE CHILDEEN. 87 The little Angel faces Towards each other bent, And in those dear embraces Each on the other leant. Their dimpled arms were intertwined, So might one say, one form, one mind. And yet a lovely difference grew, The more I gazed, upon my view. The right hand maiden raised her eyes With calm and trusting confidence, As one who on sure aid relies. And looks for no offence. With upward glance, with steady mien, Her fearless eyes were sweet, though keen. The one upon the left was gay, As though her life were one Spring day. Her open eye of deep bright blue Looked past all clouds, o'er every bound, The upcurled lashes sweeping grew, And never drooped towards the ground. 88 THE THREE CHILDEEN. Her fair waved locks upon the breeze Played gaily, hindering not her sight. And the soft rosy lips at ease Parted, as breathing were delight. Oh, fair were both, but when upon The next I looked, the centre one. And let my eyes upon her stay, I felt I could not look away. Her arms around their necks soft pressing Told their existence was her blessing. So soft, so close the pressure grew. The grasp, scarce felt, was thrilling too. And in her face, that drooping turned, With downcast lids, yet eyes half raised. An inward joy serenely burned. As though on nought but joy she gazed. You saw that love was all her being. Pure humble love, unconscious love, Ever with faith and hope agreeing. Which need not its existence prove ; tA: three childeen. 89 Absorbed in other beings so That towards them all its heart-springs flow. 0, in that lovely silent face, Pure, soft and tranquil, I could trace The self resigned, the will subdued. The heart in life's first hours renewed, Which in unearthly beauty tell, Chiefest ig she who loves so well ! 90 TO MY COUSIN FANNY. Fanny, thy youth, my childhood blending, In us a happy union made. Not marred by any harsh contending, So we grew up through sun and shade. Together in the early hours When youth's bright dawn reflects its hues In every drop that gems the flowers. And glorifies their tearful dews ; Together working, chatting, playing, How oft were we in former days. E'en then the deep foundation laying For future blame or future praise. TO MY COUSIN FANNY. 91 And thou to me wast then the dearest Fair form of youthful womanhood, Thy intuition purest, clearest. Of blameless imreproved good : For the few years thou hadst been weaving The web of life ere thought was mine But won me more, I thus perceiving Wisdom, not shared, but loved, being thine. Since then, how little our communion Hath been within one quiet home. Yet, by that early bond of union, I claim thee for the days to come ! Dost thou remember how 'twas glorious To twine a bower, a bower of thorns ? Ah ! task delightftd though laborious. Where blushing rose the stem adorns ! 92 TO MY COUSIN FANNY. ■ On the wild common near our dwelling We strove amid the hushes high, But childhood's joys are not for telling, Too deep in heart and hrain they He, When first the mystic soul her ruling In strange unconscious power begins, Before the world's stern selfish schooling O'er youth's romance a triumph wins. Yet often keen are early sorrows, Early the primal curse we feel. From birth we live not many morrows Ere we have need of One to heal ! While youth's romance — ^when 'tis the yearning For the most beautiful, most true — Both pains and purifies in burning, And may in age be living too ; TO MY COUSIN FANNY. 93 When every wandering desire For worldly fame and love is o'er, And bums alone a holy fire The great white throne of God befdire. In Him, in Him be our communion E'en now, with spirit purified. In Him be sweetest, happiest union, Humanity thus glorified. Dear Friend, dear Cousin, while the hours Advance towards evening, may we know Tears but as dew on Eden's flowers, And rising dawn by setting glow ! 94 INVOCATION. Stagnant my thouglit remains, Mournful my heart and still, Gloomily Fancy wanes : Lord, if it were Thy wiU This lamp of clay to light, Its rays shoidd pierce through night, Hallowed, since thine 1 Even as Thou mayest deign Use it, then hreak it ! Take hack Thy light again, My spirit, take it. Hallowed, since Thine ! 95 TO THE GUILTY. " If thou, Lord, wilt be extreme to mark what is done amies: O Lord, who may abide it?" Ps. 130, v. 3. Arise, thou fallen one ! who dare refuse Mercy to such as God Himself may choose ! Though proud, self-righteous man the sinner spurns, God's tender love towards him ever yearns. Arise, thou fallen ! if for guilty deeds Thy soul is contrite, and thy bosom bleeds. If in the dust thy face be hidden now, In heaven thou yet mayest raise an Angel brow ! * In heaven thine yet may be an Angel face, Calmly resplendent in God's perfect grace ! When with His smile of love He looks on thee, Pure as His Saints and Angels thou shalt be ! 96 TO THE GUILTY. E'en here, for noble action, noble meed ; Honour and praise attend heroic deed; A life renewed, devoted unto good May e'en by fellow-man be understood As full amends for evil done before, And the keen fire of shame shall burn no more. But oh, if fallen man shall deem thy crime Too black to be effaced ere end of time, If fallen man cannot forgive, and bend To be the humbled, contrite sinner's friend ; God, the most pure, the holiest, to His skies Calls thee, and bids thee as His child arise ; God and his Saints receive thee, free from stain ; Washed in Christ's blood, with Him thou shalt remain. For Time thou may'st be ruined and undone — Rise up ! — Eternity may yet be won ! 97 THE DEFORMED TRANSFORMED. How various are the dreams that play O'er Fancy — some of yesterday, Some of the morrow's joy or strife, Aimless as many a human life : All falsehood some, as vague and wild As Phantoms that a&ight a child, While others rays of truth retain Refracted strangely from the brain. And others yet seem warnings sent Direct from the Omnipotent. I now relate a dream of Night — Interpret it by clear Dayhght. « 98 THE DEFOEMED TEANSFORIMED. I saw a man whose blood-red eye Was sullen in its agony, Yet with a lurid light it glared Full oft, and threatened more than dared. His Umbs were all distort and bent Like knotted oak by lightning rent. His back was bowed, his head was bare. Blasted his brow, and shagged with hair ; His garments squaUd, rent and torn, Befouled with blood, with wandering worn. Upon a river's bank he stood, And gazed into the crystal flood ; To cross he would have made essay. But deep the calm clear waters lay. Below him in that mirror fair White wings of floating clouds passed by Across the blue reflected sky — Unrecked of in his deep despair. For he himself alone saw there. That hideous form ! he never knew THE DEFORMED TEANSFOEMED. 99 Before, how foul it was to view : And burning tears of grief and shame Fell in the pure and peaceful stream. Scarce stirred the tremulous sweet tide. Troubled by drops unlike its own, Ere he beheld a Holy One, White-robed, light-crowned, by his side : In that clear mirror shewing well The contrast between heaven and hell I Sweet tones then fell upon his ear Like distant music drawing near : " Thou wouldst attain the further strand ?" The vision raised a beckoning hand. And " Follow me," was only said ; But that could not be disobeyed. Swiftly before the white form glides. Unruffled, thro' the flowing tides, But the Deformed on plunging in Feels round his waist cold waters gushing,, Yet strength to strive they give in rushing^, Though soon they lave him to the chin. 100 THE DEFOEMED TEANSFORMED. He could not stop, he followed close. By that bright crown celestial led, And the next step, above his head With circling whirl the waters rose : He seemed without a struggle gone, While the calmed stream flowed lucid on. Could not the holy Being save The guilty from a destined grave ? Ah, see ! upon the further shore He rises, but the same no more ! His upward eyes dilated beam, Expanding to the dome of day As to absorb its every ray. Back from his brow the bright locks stream Distilling dew, and not a seam Or wrinkle on that fair broad brow Eemindeth of past suffering now. Unbent, unscathed, majestic, high, He feareth nought beneath the sky. And his white robe no mortal wove. A smile of generous, genial love, THE DEFORMED TEANSFORMED. 101 Just parts his lips, one firm fair hand Clasps trustingly, with grateful force. His who has led him to the strand Thro' that pure river's healing course — The other, more impassioned, raised, God's grace and tender mercy praised, In gesture of such rapt devotion And self-forgot fidelity. That all unheeded was the motion Of bended knees' humility. 102 MARTYRDOM OF ST. STEPHEN. ^low could the Martyr stand — the first smce Jesus' death — ^firm, without fear, ^mid his foes ; and Ms cabn face uprear iladiant and sweet, as one of Angel-band Whose chainless feet with peace are ever shod ? — He had seen Christ at the right hand of God ! How could the CouncU speak His doom ? An Angel once shut Lions' jaws, Why not these brutal mouths ? How dread a pause Had rescued Stephen, if less loving meek His glance — each Judge before whom then he stood Had been struck dumb by eyes that had seen God ! MAETYEDOM OF ST. STEPHEN. 103 If such delay were rescue, it had been Vouchsafed : God's will had sanctioned the reprieve ; With death far off, to hope and to believe. His lot had then continued. The once seen Again invisible, he earth had trod — Oh, better far, to die and be with God I But could the Martyr die In charity with Murderers, and pray Not for himself alone when they did slay Him guiltless ? For them rose his latest cry Before he slept upon the bloody sod ; — He had seen Christ at the right hand of God 1 104 THE ANGEL ON TWO WINGS. It was no Demon of limping gait That came to the homes of men, But a form that in Heaven's comts might wait, Ah, what did it seek here then ? On pinions white as the Andes' snow It entered each dim abode, They shone prismatic mth fading glow, Which Heaven's lingering light bestowed. Yet was no Heavenly glory rolled Romid the Angel's temples white, Circled alone by the locks of gold That shone in the world's daylight. THE ANGEL ON TWO WINGS. 105 His vesture trailed in the dust of earth, How soon, how soon 'twas soiled ! He came from Heaven to know Heaven's worth, And sorely here he toiled. He toiled with a hurden heavier far Than the heaviest freely home, He had fallen to an unknown, alien star, 'Midst mjrriads who mourn ; And had no mission to help and heal, And no appointed place ; God's love he never could reveal Who never knew His grace. He was native to all that is fair and hright In the outer courts of bliss, He knew many a lovely sound and sight, All Paradise was his, But he had not pierced to the central ring Formed round that awful Throne Where none dare look save those who bring Love, and but love alone ! 106 THE ANGEL ON TWO WINGS. So a strange and restless discontent Began in Ms breast to move, With passionate pleasure strangely blent. And yearnings more to prove : It was not pure, it was not sure To lead him nearer God, And he sank away, till on this world's clay His trembling footsteps trod. While a voice within him clearly said, " Earth must thy portion be, Till by Time's burden on thee laid Thou know Eternity. Thou must mingle unseen with the earthly race, And thus their sorrow prove, Without power to aid by missioned grace. Without voice for words of love." Rapid, restless, each circling zone He traversed o'er and o'er, No city thronged, no dwelling lone That he did not explore : THE ANGEL ON TWO WINGS. 107 " Woe, woe, woe," with a gathering cry- Swelled on his shrinking ear, From serf despised, from nohle high — The angel quailed in fear ! In every clime and in every realm He sin and anguish saw, Enough the world to overwhelm But for its Ruler's law. He saw the horrors of battle-field, He heard there deep, deep groans. But from those whose sorrow false smiles concealed Arose the sorest moans. For he could enter where they believed No eye their grief beheld. And from the world's control reprieved. Its force no longer quelled. They saw not that aught that had once known Heaven Was standing then so near, And oh ! still less to their hearts was given God's presence calm and dear. 108 THE ANGEL ON TWO WINGS. In the Angel, sorrowful but pure, A yearning sense had birth, A need, a wish, a will obscure For a gift of precious worth : — A gift to change that utter woe To heavenly delight. Such as he never yet did know In heavenly mansions bright. He pity felt, unfelt before. And with it new hfe came, For of himself he thought no more. And no more was the same. But still small voices then arose By a sweet stream flowing ever Taintless through life and aU its woes, Ne'er from its source to sever. " Love, love, love ;" said the voices soft, " Love, though we die, rules all ; We trust God now, as we've trusted oft, He will not let us faU. THE ANGEL ON TWO WINGS. 109 God is love, though his creatures here Must often sorrow feel, Yet perfect love expels all fear, And love will love reveal !" " God is love !" yes, he heard them tell Of a Saviour crucified Who left high Heaven with them to dwell. And sin and death defied : Then joy undreamed all his being filled As he heard of the cross and grave, To his spirit's inmost depth it thrilled That Christ had died to save ! The Angel looked on the sufferers then, He looked upon those who spoke, He saw a glory on brows of men, And his icy fetters broke ! Up, up to Heaven's own glory now ! Heaven's glory he can see. It circles around his radiant brow. For love hath set him free ! 110 THE ANGEL ON TWO WINGS. Up, up, towards tlie centre of light he springs, Bound which all systems move, — He passes the planets as little things, He flies to the source of love ! Up, upwards through immensity, Up, up through boundless space I To look on love's infinity, To look upon God's face ! Ill INDOLENCE. By a tangled path of thorn Indolence goes all forlorn With neglected garments torn : All bewildered on his way, Scarcely lighted by the day. In the gloomy woods astray. But the Righteous stiU ascending O'er the thorns his way is wending, To where heaven and earth are blending. 112 INDOLENCE. Indolence roasts not the game His capricious chase o'ercame, On his hearth goes out the flame. But the Righteous' altar-fire Unto heaven will aspire, 'Tis of self the funeral pyre. Indolence, the coward, sees Lions lurking under trees, Hears their roaring in the hreeze : And he soon returns again To his den, nor can attain What he, slumbering, dreams in vain. But the Righteous seeks repose In defiance of all foes "Who his upward path oppose. Fiery furnace cannot burn him. Raging ocean cannot turn him, Safe 'mid danger still discern him ; INDOLENCE. 113 Till the distant blue ethereal Veil him in its mist aerial, Fairest as 'tis least material. Thus he melts into the sky, Vanishing from every eye. For the mortal gaze too high. 114 OKE LOOK, ONE LOOK IN JESUS' FACE, One look, one look in Jesus' face Ere dark clouds sweep between Him and my yearning eyes — ^the trace Of all that He has been, Shall be, and is, oh stamp on me ! His everlasting purity Even on my heaii; ! One look, one look in Jesus' face, Ere dark clouds sweep between And close Heaven's gate : shall not the trace Remain of Christ once seen ? "When what God is our glad eyes see, We shall be like His purity, Yes, pure in heart I 115 HE FEEDETH THE YOUNG RAVENS THAT CALL UPON HIM." Ps. CXLVII. 9. Seeking the bread of Heaven, we come To Thee, Oh Lord, and from Thy home Celestial nourishment would gain — None ever call on Thee in vain. Not only wilt Thou feed the Dove, White, tender, pure, whose voice is love, But when the famished Ravens cry, Thy pitying aid is ever nigh. Tho' black as night their sable plume, And hoarse their cry to match its gloom, Yet when for food their plaints arise Those rough harsh accents pierce the skies. lis HE FEEDETH THE YOUNG EAVENS. If we are Ravens, in Thy light Our dusky plumes shall change to white. Though soiled and stained, our wings shall be All glorious when we soar to Thee ! 117 TO THE PARENTS OF THEODOSIA D. The " Gift of God " taken away by Him ! Matchless repose ! thus let her He, Her childhood's golden dream unbroken By life's stern, sad reality, And on her brow the guileless token Of meek, unconscious purity; Peace ! not one murmuring word be spoken. Thus let her he, your precious treasure, Guarded you hoped, to bless your age ; Call her not back till you can measure Heaven's glory by this world's presage, Or liken any earthly pleasure To those of which God's hand is gage. 118 THEODOSIA D. She had staid years enough to learn The Saviour's life, the Saviour's death. And make the only claimed return, A child's ohedience, childlike faith : This shall he huried in no urn, To Him ascends her living hreath. Call her not hack from death to life. From death to life she now hath fled. Pangs such as yours in Nature's strife At parting with the early dead (Though with such woe the world he rife) Not even Mother's love can dread For her, whose little form now lies Ca]m, ne'er to suffer grief or pain ; When upon this world closed her eyes " God's gift" you could no more retain— She, scarcely striving, won the prize Of Heaven — call her not hack again ! 119 SITTING AT THE THRESHOLD. " I would choose rather to sit at the threshold of the house of my God, than to dwell In the tents of wickedness." Ps. Ixxxiv. 10. marginal reading. Oh, King of glory, King of Heaven, If around Thy throne Where thousands stand, to me be given Not the room for one ; Rather than dwell below, amid The wicked and the base, Where, the Divine being veiled and hid, Face answers darkened face, 120 SITTING AT THE THEESHOLD. Upon the tlireshold of Thy gates Patient would I sit, As suppliant at a Palace waits "Who dares not enter it : There see the light of Heaven shine through Till it even shed Some of the glory that I view On my humhled head ; And hear each living creature's tone Free from sin and care In full, soft chorus join as one. Singing the joy they share ; The joy of all those blessed souls Looking on God's face, That, like to many waters, rolls Through everlasting space ; SITTING AT THE THEESHOLD. 121 Deeper than ocean's deepest roar When wrecks are strewed on earth ; Sweet as the Angel song that bore News of the Saviour's birth. Rather would I hear such sounds In the distance rise, Though not yet within the bounds ; Joining but with sighs ; Than any melody below, Melting in faint pleasure. Or wild in passion's untamed flow, Sweeping mystic measure. Rather would I thus remain For a thousand years, Than forfeit Heaven for any gain That on the earth appears. 122 SITTING AT THE THEESHOLD. But not long without the gate Should I look wistful through, Where Jesus enters, all who wait For Him shall enter too ! 123 BLESSED ART THOU AMONG WOMEN.' And art thou in the place of God adored, Thou blessed among women, mild and still, Whose whole meek life was " see thine Handmaid, Lord, Be it to me according to Thy will !" Pure, simple Matron, oh how sad and strange The impious exaltation of thy name ; Thou who hadst no ambitious thought to range Beyond thy home, nor strive for any fame : Thou who didst treasure in thy heart each word From lips that once were nourished at thy breast^ Gathering the heavenly truth whenever heard As thy life's manna, hoarded and possest With double love, a Mother's for her Son, A woman's for the One most reverenced. And when He silenced thy few words begun 124 BLESSED AET THOU AMONG WOMEN. Telling the need of wine, thou, not incensed, And only waiting on His holy will, But badest the menials whatsoe'er He said To do ; in mute obedience waiting still : Nor ever didst command, nor raise thy head As Mother of a King, nor claim a throne Beside Him in the Heavens, as did those twain, The sons of Zebedee, who won alone This boon, such baptism as His to gain, And of His cup to drink : thou also, thou, Pierced by the sorrow for His wounds, His grave, Sadly that cup receiving, didst avow ThyseK His mortal Mother, who to save Thy first-born impotent, didst stand beside His cross unflinching, patient, although weak ; His anguish awed thine own : thou couldst not hide Thy pangs, but they were borne in silence meek. He, bearing wrath Divine, yet looked on thee, Gave thee an eartlily home, an earthly son ; Tokens of love more strong than death ; these He Bestowed — but not the power His Victory won ! 125 FALLEN ANGELS. They fell, knew Heaven, and fell 1 Those who could dwell Within Heaven's light of light In endless glory bright, Woe, woe ! they fell ! they fell ! What was their Heaven ? Had it been ever given To them, while looMng on God's face, to grow Like Him, his love to know, They had not fallen so ! 126 THE SOUL'S ROBING. The Soul took water melted from snow, And bathed herself lily wliite, And Arabia's perfumes gave to flow O'er her tresses golden bright. The Soul her splendid robes put on, Wrought both with toil and care. She spun and wove them, and they shone With broidery rich and rare. The Soiil looked into her mirror high That hung on the lamp-lit wall, And said, " All glorious am I In mine own ancestral Hall." THE soul's eobing. 127 The Soul went forth into God's daylight, And a woful change was there ! As a leper, in beggar's rags bedight, Was she who seemed so fair ! She wept full long, she wailed full sore, But few of her grief took heed, And they who scanned her o'er and o'er Gave not unto her need. Till One appeared, in whose calm eye Both love and power were seen ; And she cried with a great and bitter cry, " If Thou wilt, Thou canst make me clean! " And He passed not — He o'er her threw His stainless robe of price. And a ring upon her finger drew — His Own He bade arise. 128 THE soul's robing. Oh ! none who looked upon her then Could her old self discover, Lovely she was as Morning when It triumphs Darkness over. 129 " DEPART FBOM ME ; FOR I AM A SINFUL MAN, LORD." Luke v., 8. Depart, because I sinful am, Lord ? Never such prayer be made on such a plea ! The more I sinful am, the more, adored And gracious Saviour, have I need of Thee ! Creator and Redeemer, Thee alone. Thee only need I in the Universe, Thou, Thou, my Maker, didst for sin atone, And take away the dread impending curse, And aU our self-won doom of woe reverse. May thy blest spirit, Holiness, Truth, Love, Us to the Father of our souls unite. And in this union, every ill above. May darkness be dispelled by perfect light ! 130 DEPART FEOM ME. For all I pray ! why should I one exclude By Thee created, for whom Thou hast died I Shall those most near to me Thy thought elude Mid the vast throng ? Oh what from Thee can hide One soul! — Thou wilt that all be sanctified. 131 PKAISE. I would not sing the highest, loudest song Of all Heaven's Host, Nor think if I, the Mest redeemed among, Praised or loved most I 1 would not care to wave the tallest palm With Victory's shout, But, lost in love and joy, yet calm, so calm, All self leave out. My voice with millions blending, I would know Millions were blest, Whose holy hymn should in Ml concord flow. Of Heaven possest. 132 PRAISE. It is enough to feel that Christ is one And in Him, we : Thus all united, and thus all alone, Thus may we be ! We shall wake up and see Him as He is ; Then satisfied Lay down all crowns, all gains, and rest in this, With Him to abide. God only can praise God, the Infinite; He only says, MaMng us like to Him, " Let there be light !" V Then we can praise! 133 T0~ AFTER HIS CONFIRMATION. Where dwells thy heart ? With Him who on blind eyes Laid hands Almighty, that the day might pour Through those sad orbs which night obscured before ; Who healed the lame by bidding them arise ? Where dwells thy heart ? With Him who from the grave Called forth the dead, Himself of life the source ? 'Tis not too late, altho' we clasp a corse, For Him to give again what first He gave. Where dwells thy heart ? With Him who foulest forms. Defiled and loathsome, cleansM with a word Supreme, Omnipotent ? Whoso hath heard And trusted Him, no sad disease deforms. 134 TO— AFTER HIS CONTIEMATION. If safe with Him thy heart, the peace above All understanding, shall its throbbing still : In Heaven He yet is near us, and He will Heal all infirmities with boundless love. He will our dim eyes fre& from worldly scales, TiR they perceive the glorious light of Heaven ; Will bid us stand, and with a strength new given Take up our burdens when weak nature fails. He wiU that nature so defiled by sin From its pollution purify and save ; WiU raise from death, corruption and the grave. And make us shine all glorious witliin. If His thy heart, how easy was the yoke Assumed of late, and how sincere the vow, The vain world's pomp and glory leaving now» Ne'er to resume the chain which Jesus broke. TO — — AETER HIS CONFIRMATION. 135 111 Hiin abiding we can all tMngs do : By His in-dwelling evil is removed : Give Him thy heart, may He be the most loved Who is the only Good, the only Teue ! 136 IF THOU HAST BEEN THROUGH GRACE. If thou hast been through grace to life renewed. No more be memories of sin reviewed ; They wiU but soil and clog thy rising wings. Thought fixed on evil sure infection brings. Thy present being sever from the past, Nor dwell mid darkness by its shadows cast. The Tyrant, who unto a corse enchained His victim, but a mortal form constrained ; Thy Heaven-born living Spirit do not bind To the dead Spirit of thy former mind. TIME WEAVES BRIGHT THREADS. — ♦ — Time weaves bright threads of silver in our IcTcks, That glance amid the rest of sober hue ; And thus the shadow is our lingering youth ; The light, om- coming age ! 137 GREEN LEAVES. As green leaves surround the Rose, Less fair Fairest may enclose, Thus her heauty brighter glows. With her they may not compare, Yet they all her triumphs share, Wanting them, she's not so fair ! OH FEAR NOT GRIEF. Oh fear not grief, oh fear not any pain God sends thee — fear thou to fall into sin, Not into sorrow. When we trembling stand And dread to plunge into a void abyss. We find it filled with God ! 138 SONNETS TO EMMA D. I. Soft beams thine eye, in heaven's serenest hue ; Half veiled the lid beneath, yet upward bending Its gentle, tranquil gaze, and sweetly blending All happy feelings, innocently true. Colour of constancy, unchanging blue, A promised future smiles within its rays, — Young Poet ! shouldst thou win immortal bays. Virtue's fresh fount shall gem the wreath with dew ! Fair shining tresses shade thy rounded cheek ; When part those rosy lips, oh ! list the sound ! In slow and silver accents dost thou speak. The liquid air soft yielding floats around UnrufSed by that voice so low and meek ; Such '' woman's excellence " in thee is foimd. SONNETS. 139 TO EMMA D. II. Emma, if sweet and gentle thou didst seem, In winning softness free from scorn or pride, When first I saw thee, recently a bride. And so beloved that love was not a dream, Yet sweeter still and dearer now I deem The matron brow where matron cares preside, No burden, but a crown ; unto thy side Fair children cling, trained in no false extreme ; Their rule, a steadfast calmness, to engage Obedience ; their reward, thy mild caress. The daughter, tending dear and honored age, The wife, the sister and the friend no less Thy cordial words, thy graceful acts express. Be ever blest, as thou dost others bless ! 140 SONNETS. TO THE MEMORY OF CHAELOTTE C. A gentle voice is hushed, that ever spoke The law of kindness : its sweet songs are stUled : A heart, with true love's throhhings warmly thrUled Is cold, cold only by Death's icy stroke ! Nought else from its dear charities had broke The clinging tendrils ; nothing else had chilled The tenderness which that pure being filled. Ah ! shall we plead, Death's sentence to revoke ? No, no ! she lives, she lives for evermore. Her soul expanding to the life of life. For her, not love, but grief and pain are o'er, And all the bitterness of earthly strife, We need not caU her back, we too shaU soar Unto our God, who all things wiU restore ! SONNETS. 141 THE HOURS. Morn opes her portals, and a lovely train, Hours fair with light, dance o'er the glittering sea. And bathe their sandals in its tide with glee. Yet of salt bitterness no taint retain, For all that cleaves to them must sweetness gain. Thence thro' the woods, and over lawn and lea Their dewy footsteps pass, so light and free That barrier none nor boundary can restrain From bounteous trespass the glad sister hours. They scent their golden tresses, that illume The deep greenwood, from all its sweetest flowers, Whose vases soft unclose, and yield perfume To their soft touch, till fragrant are the bowers, And fairer yet is light that shines in gloom. 142 SONNETS. NIGHT. "Welcome thy mantle wide, that hides awhile Existence from our eyes, sad, gentle Night, — = Earthly existence, — ^for the worlds of light Around us beam like great Creation's smile, As even our world of sorrow may beguile Their inmates to believe we breathe delight In joy's own atmosphere, for ever bright. Where the sun shines upon our cloudy pile ! A truce in conflict thy dark banner brings, Beneath it half the weary world finds rest, All creatures hushed, the wild wind only sings In breathing musical ; or, unreprest Though hidden, floods and fountain-falls betray The life of Nature, else unknown till Day. SONNETS. 143 TO LUCY M. When first I saw thee, Lucy, thy long hair Was twined with massive coils around thy head Li auhurn richness, showing golden thread. And brightly braided on thy forehead fair And high, as yet unshadowed by a care. The clear suffusion of youth's bloom was shed. Like haze transparent o'er a landscape spread, On thy fair face : the blue eyes shining there Soft as blue sMes, not like to starry flame. Still golden are thy locks, soft is thy gaze Where warm affections live ; still are the same Thy gifts for social converse, wit that plays Through all life's cares so brightly, — ah, it came From Erin — ^Erin's child art thou always. 144 SONNETS. A SCENE. On northern coast I stood : the sky was gray With clouds : ahout the cliffs the sea-birds wheeled , And not a gleam the purity revealed Of their white breasts, so white in radiant day. Their wild cries rose as they were ghosts astray From Heaven : lost, lost Spirits ! while concealed Was light that should have led there, — yet appealed Those cries for aid it seemed. Up dashed the spray 'Gainst rugged rocks, and nothing but the waves' Deep voices answered. Solemnly their chime KoUed in unceasing music from below : The ocean moaned, as forced through narrow caves Like vast Eternity, whose ceaseless flow Is surging through the dangerous straits of Time. -SONNETS. 145 TO GERTKUDE F. Gertrude, like thee I would pourtray the child Whom Jesus set mid' the contending train Of His disciples : bidding them attain Like meekness, humble patience, and the mild Unconsciousness of self. Thus undefiled By taint of sin are children, if remain The restless heart and ever busy brain Hushed in reposing faith. And if exiled Short space from Home, even now their Angels have Perpetual vision of God's presence there. "Wherefore thine eye, gazing serenely grave Through the soft glory of long golden hair — Not burnished o'er with curl or glittering wave- Looks fearless on the world, and void of care I 146 SONNETS, THE FAILING SENSES. Tokens of Age ! ye close the Spirit's gates In earthly fortress, on dense thronging life Of this world — ^barring thence its clamorous strife. Vain pomps, and trimnphs false; that she who waits Her happy summons to celestial Mates, Thus sitting tranquil and retired within. May in soft silence rest her from the din Of battle, ere it end. Through prison grates The senses dulled enjoy a breathless cahn. Like the sweet hush of Nature's voiceless psalm. Her sabbath pause when fairest sMes are given. This world shut out, the next is very nigh ; And echoings of the eternal song on high May thrill the lone one, ere she enter Heaven ! SONNETS. 147 NETS. " Surely in vain the net is spread in the eyes of everything that hath a wing." Prov. i. 17. Marginal reading. Surely in vain for every winged thing The net is spread on earth — ^for they can soar Through clear unbounded ether-floods, and o'er Its rolling mass triumphant carols sing. Sweeping the skies, or poised on buoyant wing At distance, only as a tempting shore This world appears to them, with mountains hoar, Like guardian walls around fair Eden's spring ; While the blue veil celestial mantles all. And, undefined, the earth is fair and bright ; But their descent dims it with nearer sight. Oh who that could wear wings would on this ball To fowler, spreading nets, become a thrall. When the free heaven were his in rapturous flight ! 148 .SONNETS. THE TWO PORTEAITS. Untouched by care, almost by thought, behold Youth's image here — ^Now, drawn in after years. This picture view, wherein of life appears The inward history that is untold By aught besides, nor left in memory's leaf. Thoughts at the time unheeded or unknown, Feelings, forgot by her who felt, are shown Upon these features still. If signs of grief O'er gladness seem to bear prevailing sway, 'Tis that the harsh strong lines by suffering wrought Retain o'er joy's soft trace invading power ; Not so upon the soul, for sorrow's day To that a happiness more deep hath brought From Heaven, than e'er gave earth's most witching hour, ^. p. p. SONNETS, 149 CHRIST'S SEPULCHBE. "Unto the tomb the two Disciples eame, 'Twas vacant — they departed. Mary staid, Lingering in love where once His form was laid Who had forgiven all her sin and shame. When Angels asked her sorrow's cause, the same Thro' all events, in stainless white arrayed. Weeping she turned from those who could not fade, Nor cloud their light with grief, — her grief o'ercame All fear: still sought she Him whose blood was poured In agonies, which all transgressions healed ; But knew him not, her eyes in sorrow sealed. Until the accents of that voice restored To tenderness, said, " Mary ;" — to the word, ■" IMaster," she answered, for He stood revealed. 150 SONNETS. THE APPEAL. It rang upon her ear, the hideous name. And hurled at her — the world's red burning brand Inflicted with a stern remorseless hand On those thought guilty of a deed of shame ! And could she bear it ? She upon whom blame Erewhile so softly lighted, as though hand Of some kind Spirit changed to feathers bland The rod on her white innocence which came. Entranced she stands^ — one pang a moment wrings Her inmost being; then it rushes far From man's unrighteous cruel judgment-bar Into the presence of the King of Kings ! Appealing for her sentence to that Throne Where sits the Omniscient and all-loving One. SONNETS, 151 THE BRIDE OF CHRIST. That picture but a fable can recall Where Catherine unto the infant Lord By golden ring is bound : Not one, but all Who love Christ's name, and live in sweet accord With Him and with each other blended, shall One mystic whole, wedded to Him, afford ; His Church ! His Bride ! whom nothing can appal While leaning upon Him who is the Word. The unbroken ring of vast Eternity And space unbounded, symbols are alone Of His eternal love, so deep, so high ; All knowledge passing, yet for ever known When, once more stooping to our clouded sky, Even as He is, Christ comes unto His own. 152 SONNETS. THE LORD'S PRAYER, I. God taught a prayer to man — did it begin, " Omnipotent, Almighty, King of Kings, Thou that ridest on the Angels' wings. Forgive us, lying in the depths of sin"?-— • Not so : if thus man may implore, to win Pardon for evil that his bosom wrings. Yet God's surpassing love, for ever sings Of mercy through the Universe, and in A purified and cahn heart sings the same. With voice of perfect melody ; and nought Resists its power, once being by it taught. Thus spake that voice : " Our Father, be thy name Hallowed :" oh hallowed, yes ! The Saviour bought Our right to use it as a filial claim. SONNETS. 15B' THE LORD'S PBAYER. n. Oh what prayer can have sweeter utterance Than this, " Thy will be done, Thy will be done !" This unites Heaven with earth, and makes both one In a divine and holy governance. Above all fear and accident and chance. So safe it is to say " Thy will be done !" So blest it is, with God to be alone. Having no will but His, and thus enhance All love, all pleasure, all variety To joy unspeakable that yet is peace, In His all-comprehensive Unity ! His bounteous will from giving ne'er can cease. His gifts oppress not with satiety : From our own will, Father, us release ! 154 SONNETS. THE LOED'S DAY. I. May Thy day lie as a white stone, oh Lord, Among the sullied slabs that pave the wide. Thronged ways of this world. Turning there aside For rest and ease, may we receive the Word, And call the breathing space Thou dost afford To desert-pilgrim, his oasis bright. Thine, honorable, holy, a delight, And speak Thy language, and in thoughts restored To freer commune with Thee, peaceful muse, Loosing from off our feet the galling shoes Of pilgrim garb, to stand secure from ill On holy ground. Thus win we* on our way Thy Presence, Friend of Friends, that so we may In week-day labour, love and serve Thee still ! SONNETS. 155 THE LORD'S DAY. II. Not thinking our own^thoughts, God's holy Day We, as of old, should keep : what thoughts are wound In this world's tangled web (wherein are bound So many) we should loose, and let them stray Throughout God's universe, and be alway Allied unto His thoughts. Above, around, Beneath, in depth, in height, our God is found ; In Him, through Him, and to Him let us pray ! The treasure of his thoughts all good supplies ; In Him is freedom ; let us contemplate As He did, resting above earth and skies, The vast creation which He made so great. And read Himself in all He did create — This shall not hinder us with Christ to rise ! TRANSLATIONS. 159 FROM THE SWEDISH. FRITHIOF AND INGEBORG. Erithiofs-Saga. Tegner. There grew in Hilding's garden fair Two plants 'neath foster-parents care. The North before had never seen Such lovely plants in valley green. One like an Oak its strength upreared. And as a lance its stem appeared ; The crown, that quivered in the storm, "Was rounded to a helmet's form. The other grew like Rose-hud bright, When ended is the winter's night. And spring lies dreaming in the rose, Till its sweet petals soft unclose. 160 FEOM THE SWEDISH. But storms shall soon career along, With them the Oak shall wrestle strong, And to spring-sun, in heaven that glows, Shall ope the red lips of the Eose. So grew they up with sport and game. And Frithiof was the young Oak's name. But the bright Eose in vaUey lone As lovely Ingehorg was known. Shouldst thou view both in light of day. To Freya's house thy thought would stray, Where many a joyous bridal pair Soars with bright wings and golden hair : But in the moonbeams shouldst thou see Them dancing under leafy tree, Thou'dst think that 'neath its garlands green Danced the small Elf- King with his Queen. It was so dear, it was so glad, When his first rune by heart he had ; No King such honour e'er could earn. The rune from him did Ingborg learn. How glad in little bark was he FEITHIOF AND INGEBOEG. 161 With her upon the dark blue sea ! How gaily, if the loose sail flapped. Her little hands so white she clapped ! No bird's nest could be found so high That there he climbed not fearlessly ; The Eagle's self, in clouds who hung, Was plundered of both eggs and young. There was no stream, so rapid e'er, He could not o'er it Ingborg bear ; It was so sweet, mid rushing sound, To feel her small arms clasp him round. The first flowers that on earth are spread. The strawberries that first were red. The first corn-ear of golden hue, He offered her, so glad and true. — But days of childhood soon go by ; A youth before us stands, with eye Of fiery glance, that hopes and prays, And there a maid with downcast gaze. To Frithiof that chase was dear M 162 FEOM THE SWEDISH. WMch few could think on without fear. For the brave boy unarmed would quell Fierce bears that in the forest dwell. Breast unto breast with them he fought. And won the victory he sought ; With shaggy prize he came again,— Could he to maiden plead in vain ? ]\Ian's com^age is to woman dear, She best loves him who knows no fear ; And beauty suits with strength, even so As helmet suits the warrior's brow. But if in winter eve he read, When fire-light thro' the great hall spread, A song of the Valhalla's^ glory, Of gods and goddesses the story, Freya, he thought, hath tresses fair. Like corn-field waved by summer air ; Thus Ingeborg's bright locks abound. Like gold net, rose and lily round. Iduna's bosom fair is seen FRITHIOF AND INGEBORG. 163 Beauteous to heave 'neath robe of green ; I know a robe whose folds are prest Around a fairer, lovelier breast. And Frigga's eyes are lovely blue, Like to the heavens that we view ; But I know eyes near which I deem The blue spring-days but gloomy seem. Oh wherefore thus praise Gerda's cheeks, Snow o'er which northern radiance breaks ? I have seen cheeks —in kindling day Two morning dawns upon them lay. I know a heart that might be named With Nanna's, although not so famed. "Well may the Scalds thy praise resound, Balder, of Nanna worthy found ! Like thee in death I would be laid, If wept like thee by constant maid, As Nanna, tender, fond and true, I Hela's face should gladly view. But the King's daughter sat and sung 164 FROM THE SWEDISH. A hero's song ; the shuttle flung With skill a hero's deeds portrayed, And bUlows blue, and greenwood shade. There gradual grew in wool so white Of woven gold the bucklers bright, And red-stained flew the battle's lances. While, silver worked, the strong mail glances. From day to day the shuttle flew. Like Frithiof the hero grew. And as from out the web looked he. Though blushing, yet rejoiced she. But Frithiof carved, where'er he came. An I, an F, for either name ; The bark-cut runes, in every weather. Grew, like the youthful hearts, together. When in the sky the Day shone fair. The World's-King, with the golden hair, And wakened men their labour sought, They of each other only thought. When in the sky Night made her lair, World's-Mother, with the dusky hair, FEITHIOF AND INGEBOEG-. 165 And silence reigned, and bright stars shone, They of each other dreamed alone. " Thou Earth, that deck'st thyself each spring With flowers in thy green hair, oh bring To me the loveliest ; I wiU twine A wreath on Frithiof to shine." " Thou Sea, with thousand pearls is drest Thy dark hall 'neath the waves ; the best Give me, the fairest in it found. My Ingborg's neck to circle round." " Thou dais for Odin's Ejng-seat high, Thou golden Sun, the world's bright eye ! Wert thou but mine, thy buckler bright rd give to Frithiof for the fight." " Thou Moon, whose pale and gentle beam From the All-Father's home doth stream, Wert thou but mine, I'd give thee now To deck my beauteous maiden's brow." — But Hilding said, " Nay, Foster-son, Such love thou must not think upon ; 166 FEOM THE SWEDISH. The lots of fate unequal fall : To Odin's self in star-lit hall Her lineage rises, and the maid King Bele's daughter is :" he said, " And thou hut Thorsten's son ; give heed. For like with like hath hest agreed." But Frithiof laughed : " My noble race Down to the dale of death I trace ; The Forest's King I late defied, And won his lineage with his hide. The free-horn man is ever strong, What does not to the free belong ? What Fortune snapped she can repair. And Hope a kingly crown doth wear. Power comes from noble source ; on high Dwells Thor, its father, in the sky ; To worth, not bfrth, is his award : A powerful wooer is the sword. I'd combat for my youthful Bride, Though I the thunder's-god defied ! Grow safe, my LHy white as snow. To those who separate us, woe !'' 167 KING BELE AND THORSTEN VIKINGSSON. / Feithiofs-Saga. Tegner. King Bel^, resting on his sword, within the King's hall stood ; By him was Thorsten Vikingsson, the Peasant hrave and good, His ancient weapon-hrother, near a hundred years of age : All seamed with scars, like runic stone, appeared the white haired sage. They stood as amid mountains two temples where were made Offerings to heathen Deities, now half in ruins laid, But many truths of wisdom the graven walls yet tell, And lofty memories of old within the arches dwell. 168 FEOM THE SWEDISH. " It draweth towards the evening " King Bele said, " and now The mead I like not, and my helm is heavy on my brow, Before mine eyes the fates of men dark and confiised appear, Death I forbode, for Valhalla sliines nearer and more near. I have summoned my two sons, and also thine to me, For to each other they belong, united as are we. A father's warning I will give unto the eagles young, Before the words all slumber upon the dead man's tongue." Then as the King commanded, they entered in the hall, And the dark form of Helga stern came in the first of all. Amid Diviners round the altar he loved best to stand, And came from groves of sacrifice with blood upon his hand. After him followed Halfdan, effeminate fair youth, Each feature although noble, too soft and weak in sooth. KING BELE. 169 He by his side, for sport alone, seemed belted sword to bear, Like a disguised Maiden, who the Hero's garb would wear. But after him came Frithiof, wrapped in a mantle blue, A full head he was taller than both the other two : He stood between the brothers, as Day in cloudless light, Between the rosy morning, and shadowy, gloomy Night. " Ye Sons," then said the dying King, " full soon my reign must cease. In concord rule the realm I leave ; in brother's love and peace : For concord holds together, 'tis like the ring about The lance, however tough and long, it hath no strength without. To watch and guard your country's gate let Vigour ever stand^ And Peace, in stream-encircled place, bloom in your happy land. The sword is given for defence, but not for any harm. The s;hield is for a padlock forged, securing Peasant's farm. 170 FROM THE SWEDISH. The oppressor of his subject reahn must he a senseless man. For the King only dares and does that which his People can. The green-leaf crown must wither, when dries the sap that fills Those stems with life that cover now the lofty barren hills. Upon four mighty pillars the heaven's cu'cle stands, But thrones are founded only upon earth's shifting sands. When Power dooms instead of Eight, it soon will ruin bring. Right is the country's piety, the honour of the King. Helga ! within Disar's Hall the gods indeed may dwell, But not as snails are closed within the compass of their sheU. As far as light of day may shine, as voice of man may sound. As far as thought itself may fly, the great gods dwell around. KING BELE. 171 Within the Falcon sacrificed the priestly signs may fail, And false are many graven runes, false and of no avail, But in the sound and righteous heart, Helga, this believe, Odin hath written holy runes that never can deceive. Be never hard, King Helga, though firm in thy intent, The sword that hites the sharpest, most easily is bent : Mildness adorns a King, as flowers the shield of War- rior bold. And Spring days bring more wealth with -them than the long winter's cold. A man, however strong he be, who has no friends ' around, May die as stem in wilderness, whose bark has felt a wound: But well the friendly man will thrive, as tree within a wood. Whose roots are watered by a brook ; where rude storms are withstood. Boast not thy Father's honour, each has but his alone, Canst thou not bend thy father's bow ? then it is not thine own. 172 FROM THE SWEDISH. What wilt thou with the worth that lies buried in ancient graves ? The strong stream through the ocean goes by force of its own waves. Thou, Half dan, joyous temper the wise a gain may call. But idle talk beseemeth none, and Kings the least of alL Not only with sweet honey, but with hops the mead is brewed, Put steel i' the sword, with soberness be even sport pursued None e'er had too much knowledge, however much they sought. And many know so little that it is next to nought. The ignorant in lofty seat is scorned, although thus graced, But wisdom hath the ear of all, however lowly placed. Oh Halfdan, to the faithful friend, to Foster-brother dear However distant he may dwell, the way is ever near ; But off thy path, and unapproached, as though it far did lie, The fortress of thy foeman stands, let it be ne'er so nigh. Whoever pleases thee, think not as confidant to choose, KING BELE. 173 To empty house leave open door, the rich house careful close. Choose one, a second will be then but useless unto thee. And the world knows, oh Halfdan, that which is known to three."— Thereafter up stood Thorstan, and calmly he spoke so ; " Let not the King have hope alone to Odin's halls to go, We shared in all life's changes, its happiness, its care, And death I hope, King Bele, we even so shall share. Son Frithiof, to me old age has whispered in the ear Full many a warning, and the same thou now from me shalt hear. On the sepulchral mount swoop down i' the north great Odin's birds. And from the old man's lips you may hear many true wise words. — First, honour the high gods, for good and ill alike are given By them, descending as the storm and sunshine from their heaven. 174 FKOM THE SWEDISH. They see in the heart's secret vault, be it closed ne'er so fast ; And what an hour prepares long years may bring to light at last. Obey the King ; with sense and power let one hand steer alone ; Dim Night indeed hath many eyes, but Day hath only one. Unto the better, Frithiof, still let the best succeed, The sword that needs a sharpened point, the hilt will also need. If great strength be a gift divine, yet, Frithiof, bear in ' mind That strength but little brings to pass which wisdom does not find. The bear has twelve men's strength in one, yet but his bearish paw : Against the sword-stroke hold the shield ; 'gaiost violence use law. Dread thou to act too proud a part, and hated be of all, For arrogance, Frithiof, still comes before a fall. I have seen many fly aloft, that now on crutches go. KING BELE. 175 For weather helps the harvest growth, and winds will Fortune blow. Day shalt thou prize when, sets the sun, behind high hills concealed, And ale when quaffed, and counsel when time hath its worth revealed. In many things the young confide, on many men depend, But conflict proves the sword they wear, and need will prove the friend. Trust not to ice but one night old, trust not the spring day's snow, Nor sleeping snake, nor maid caressed, who whispereth soft and low ; For woman's bosom turneth oft upon a rolling wheel, And as its lilies waver, so the passions women feel. ThyseK must die, and all to thee belonging die also, But one thing which will never die, Frithiof, I know ; And that is Verdict on dead men : therefore I counsel thee That what is noble thou shalt will, and what is evil flee. So warned the ancient warrior, within the kingly hall, 176 FEOM THE SWEDISH. As Skalds have since their warnings given, sitting in Havamal. From age to age descending came the words of lasting worth, And deep they whisper even now from gravestones in the north. And afterwards they both did speak in many heartfelt words Of heir weU proved friendship, which the North with fame records : How constant to the hour of death, in gladness and in need, Like two clasped hands together joined, they ever had agreed. " With back to back we stood prepared, and therefore to each one, Howe'er Fate came, she only struck upon a shield, my son ! Before you to Valhalla we old men haste away. But may your Fathers' spirit here upon you all yet stay." KING BELE. 177 And much the aged King then spoke of Frithiof's courage bold. Of hero's strength, which has more worth than kingly Wood of old : And of the Splendour Thorsten spoke, to Asa's sons a crown, The great Kings of the mighty North, and heirs to its renown. " And hold you all together, ye noble sons all three, Greater than you, I know it well, the North shall never see; For strength to kingly dignity unfailingly is knit, 'Tis like the dark blue rim of steel, which golden shield doth fit. And greet from me my daughter, the rose-bud yet unblown, Sheltered, as best beseeming, she hitherto hath grown ; Surround her, let not any storm come in an evil hour, And bear away with rushing blast my fair and tender flower. On thee, Helga, I impose a father's love and care, 178 FROM THE SWEDISH. That as a daughter Ingehorg thy tenderness may share. Constraint provokes a noble mind, but tenderness will lead Both man and woman, Helga, to right and noble deed. But lay us side by side, ye sons, in piled barrows two. And let on each side roll the Fiorde, with all its billows blue ; Since e'en for spirits of the dead delightful is its song, And like heroic lays resound its blows the strand along. .When o'er the mountains spreads the moon her radiance pale and fair, And midnight- days on Baulasten fall through the colder air, Then shall we sit, oh Thorsten brave, on round piled thrones of state. And speak across the waters wide of the events of fate. And now farewell ye sons, no more we wander here below. Our journey to All-Father is, and we long there to go, Even as the weary river longs in ocean to repose : Frey, Thor and Odin bless you all, when we our eyes shall close. 179 INGEBORG'S LAMENT. From the Frithiofs-Saga. Tegner. 'Tis Autumn now ; Ocean raises his hoary brow. Ah, yet upon the sea I'd gladly be ! I watched Ml long The sail in the west, that flew so strong. Ah ! Frithiof to follow Were joy, upon the billow. Billow, thou blue, Swell not so high, o'er thee he flew. Shine stars, and say To him the way ! 180 PEOM THE SWEDISH. When it is Spring, He will come home, hut the loved shall bring To liim in hall no greeting. In vale no meeting ; She, in the mould For her love's sake lies pale and cold. Or, victim, is lamenting To brother unrelenting. Falcon forsaken. Thee for his sake I've taken. I'U feed and I'U watch over The winged rover. Here on his hand In this broidery I work thee fair to stand, Here thy rich claws of gold And silver wings behold. INaEBOEG'S LAMENT. 181 Falcon-wings bore Freya once wide regions o'er. Both south and north she roved Seeking the Fates heloved. Shouldst thou spare me Thy wings awhile, they would not bear me. Death only to me brings The goddess' wings. Beauteous Rover, On my shoulder sitting, gaze the sea over. Ah ! we may look and mourn, He'll not return ! When I am dead He'll surely come, remember what I said ; My salutation keeping, For Frithiof weeping ! 182 BOYS. Anna Maeia Lenngeen. My memory keeps the treasure As if but one day backj Of times when guiltless pleasure Close followed in my track ; Vice as a witch was hated, Dull care crept out of sight. And all, my lesson bated, I pleasant found and light. Upon my lips was laughter, And health was in my blood, No need to hunt joy after. All people I thought good ; BOYS. 183 Eaeli boy to me was brother, So frolicsome and gay ; Girls sisters, matrons mothers Were, in life's dawning day. The free fields are before me, To memory still the same, Where I as hero bore me In many an active game ; The thousand pranks when rushing In summer's fresh pure wind, Crimson the smooth cheek flushing, The hat with flowers twined. Of falsehood and of cheating As yet I nothing knew, Each merry playmate meeting As trusty friend and true ; Of wrath in secret cherished We never knew the smart, For with one blow there perished All anger from the heart 184 FEOM THE SWEDISH. No difference of persons I saw in play's delight ; For peasant-boys and Barons Were equal in my sight ; In giddy glad existence The one who threw the ball Best and to greatest distance Was first among us all. We thought not of concealing The truth for praise or blame. Justice itself revealing E'en in our slightest game. 'Mongst us the lad most tattered The prize for sMU might take (By law that never flattered) From Count who made mistake. Ah what was our dejection, How felt each tender heart When chiding and correction Had made some playmate smart ! BOYS. 185 How glad again receiving Him who had felt the stroke ! My one cake with the grieviag I, to console him, broke. But, childhood's Mends, Time tries you, And altered now ye show ! I no more recognize you, And me ye do not know. As statesmen now are living The former hoys so bright, For feasts and dainties striving ; And they for titles fight. With forty years gone o'er them Uneasily they strain Up the steep hill before them The temple to attain Of Fortune.' — ^What bestows there, The Dame sought in each land ? Cold heart 'neath star that glows there, Pale cheek and ribbon grand. 186 CASTLE AND COTTAGE. Anna MAHidi Lenngren. I have a habitation, And mine it is, though small : You bow with veneration To enter it at all. Little above the ground stands My cot ; low is my state ; But in the park's wide bound stands A castle high and great. His pomp and splendour keeping A Lord you there may see ; But when I soft am sleeping Ah ! so cannot do he. CASTLE AND COTTAGE. 187 A courtier is his Worship, A splendid star he wears ; But oh, poor gracious Lordship, How unhlest he appears ! As I hefore my dwelling One evening sat at ease, His noisy dogs were telling His coming thro' the trees. His Worship came hefore me As, best delighted, I To Providence still o'er me Sang out in harmless joy. It was a song I'd striven Myself to make and find, To praise the Lord of Heaven For peace and quiet mind : 188 FEOM THE SWEDISH. For health and for existence, For, after toil, repose, For Father's care, subsistence. And days that fearless close. Upon his gun there leaning His Worship heard my song ; Attentive to its meaning. Then thoughtful went along. He gave a sigh of sadness — Ha ! well I understood : " Give me thy heartfelt gladness, And take my Castle good ! " Then I mine eyes uplifted To Him who gave to aU ; The great with Castles gifted, With happiness the smaU. 189 THE MOTHER BY THE CRADLE. / Franzen. Hush! hush! Mother sing and baby list. Hush! hush! Pearls lie on each flower's breast, Babe on Mother's arm finds rest. Linnet, do not spill Flower-pearls, be still. Puss and spaniel, silence keep That the little one may sleep. Hush! hush! Baby, hush, by Mother kist. Hush! hush! Flowers reclose their buds that blow, Baby with his eyes does so. 190 FEOM THE SWEDISH. Ah, do they still peep ? Soft ! cry not, but sleep ! Thou wilt in thy cradle He, Under Mother's watchful eye. Hush! hush! Mother sing and baby list. Hush ! hush ! Birds lie safely in their nests ; Baby in his cradle rests. No troubled thoughts there stir Of Pope or Emperor. Under Mother's hand and song. Softly moY^s his world along. Hush ! hush ! Baby sleeps nor doth resist. Hush ! hush ! What sleeps yet in bud confined ? Hope deceived and wishes blind ! THE MOTHEE. 191 A worm, there now concealed, To rule when once revealed, Blight the flower, the fruit destroy, Sorrow cast on all my joy ! Hush ! hush ! Baby sleep and Mother list. Hush! hush! No one shall destroy thee here, Mother's heart to thee is near. Soon will the bird's wings grow, Far from me it wiU go. Know I when he flies my bound Where his haven shall be found ? Hush ! hush ! Sleep and wake by Mother kist. Hush ! hush ! Sleep, innocent, from sorrow free : Thy Mother's eye is over thee. 192 FEOM THE SWEDISH. When thou shalt wake indeed Its absent care to need, Look then with faith and hope on high Towards a Heavenly Fathers eye. 193 GOD'S WILL BE DONE ! Franzen. Be thy will done ! Howe'er bend Time its course ; though we may see Much we do not comprehend, Thankful still we cry to Thee : God, Thy will be done ! Be Thy will done ! Yes, this prayer Us befits in weal and woe, It makes gladness yet more fair, Grief has comfort, praying so : God, Thy will be done ! 194 FEOM THE SWEDISH. Be Thy will done ! As 'tis done In all worlds wMcli Thou dost guide. So below, in us each one, In each breath unto Thee sighed, God, Thy will be done ! Be Thy will done in our North ; People, King and Council lead ; Bind our wills with grace poured forth ; With Thy word our freedom lead : Thy hallowed wiU be done ! 195 DEATH. Geijer. In weakness all my powers bow, No liglit, no warmtli is given me now, Life's strength departs, and faint am 1, My sun goes down, and night is nigh. A quiet dwelling waits me, deep Below, a bed for dreamless sleep. Watchmen are there unheard by me, Time there is called Eternity. Atoner, who hast sanctified Our life, our grave ; Christ, who died Bearing our guilt, man's truest Friend, In death's dark moment o'er me bend ! 196 FEOM THE SWEDISH. Take thou the spirit that now flies, Jesus, cleanse it for the skies, Such as when pure it first was given By our Father high in Heaven. My fetters break ! Yes, I shall see, My Brother and my Saviour, Thee, In God's eternal glory clear, — Yes, Lord, I come !— Ah, thou art here ! 197 SUNDAY MOENING. Wallin. Hear, in free space sweetly sounding, Festive voice of holy bell ; See how come, at its resounding, Those who love its summons well. Follow then, my heart, the appointed Worship-hour to solemnize, Where the temple's spire is pointed See'st thou not the radiant skies ? Ah, how cruel Time persisted To take all that I held dear ! Wreaths of Death alone are twisted Of flowers plucked without a fear See the Spring again returning ; With new buds the earth is gay ; But what I am fondly mourning From my heart is gone away I 198 FEOM THE SWEDISH. Gone indeed ?— The day declareth To my soul that Heaven is near. That the good for aye endureth, For my true weal shall appear. The same love o'er earth and Heaven Holds us in its kind embrace, In each storm a hand is given Guiding to the port of peace. Hearts that tenderly united. Here are one in friendship's band ! Kindred souls, who seek delighted. The same holy Fatherland ! Earth's small grievances recall not, Nor recall her false dehght ; Gloomy clouds the Heavens pall not From a true Believer's sight. Let our voices blend in union With the sacred hymn and prayer. In one spirit have communion, The same grace receive and share ; SUNDAY MOENING. 199 Power to overcome world- dreaming, Patience, meekness be bestowed. And, while contrite tears are streaming, Heartfelt trust tbat God is good. Hear ye not, how sweetly gliding Swells to Heaven united praise ? How the faithful are confiding Unto God their works and ways ? Those, who arms of prayer are twining Round the stem of Jesus' Cross, Those, whose star is ne'er declining, Follow without fear of loss. Oh my heart ! yes, God is near thee, Ope thyself, and gladly know The good Spirit that shall bear thee Power and comfort e'en below ! Glorious beams are Heaven adorning. Mists disperse themselves and fly. And the bright eternal morning Dawns for Faith's uplifted eye ! 200 THE WATEE LILY. Feom " The Neighbours." Frederika Bremer. Upon the clear waves floating A flower pui-e and white Is to the sun devoting Her service with delight. And faithfally she gazes Up to the sky above, Her eye to heaven she raises In offering of love. So on the waters living, Beauteous as Angels' prayer, Not longing and not striving JEer love rewards her there. THE WATEE LILY. 201 When storms in wrath awaken, And heavy falls the rain. She in a calm unshaken Though tearful, will remain. And from the shore not swerving Near which her cradle lay. Looks to the King she's serving And hopes a better day. Now is the storm subsiding And purple evening flings Its pearl- dew out — ^while gliding O'er waves sweet music rings. In the deep's silver halls then His harp the NecF strikes clear, He on the lily calls then, And tells of love most dear. 202 FKOM THE SWEDISH. " Come, see how many a wonder Here is surromiding me, The deep's green caverns mider I'll sweetly sing for thee. " 'Tis cool where shells are lining These many coloured caves, Come down from the sun's shining Where love sits 'neath the waves." But the white flower raises Her glance to the blue sMes, On the world of light she gazes And to the Neck rephes. " If of my love thou'rt dreaming. Come up, come up to me, But where God's sun is beaming Can I belong to thee. THE WATEE LILY. 203 " No more below reclining, The water's minstrel-King, Come see how Heaven is shining, And light and love here sing." From dreams the Neck awaketh, " So dark it is below !— " His first joy he forsaketh, And is consumed with woe. DYING SONG. Fkom the "President's Daughters." Frederika Bremer. 'Tis past ! New light in life I now perceive, And I will sing, because I gladly die. The shore indeed is lovely that I leave. But lovelier, o'er the waters, I espy The islands of the blest I shall attain. I sing, because I die ! free from each band The spirit rises out of earth's restraint. Farewell ! I fly to the illumined land, And with a sweeter song, no more thus faint, My life, my love renewed shall sing again. 205 I THIKST! From the "President's Daughter. Frederika Bremer. I thirst ! oh give me of the fresh pure brook In which of old might Eden's roses look. The clear and glorious fountain, brightly flowing, The ever young, whose soft wave, health bestowing, Smiles to Angelic glances, and is sweet, With holy Wisdom's purest gold replete. I thirst ! oh fount of truth so clear and good. Give freshness to my fever-maddened blood, To the sick heart both strength and courage lending, From fearful images mine eye defending ; Ah, might I quench indeed my thirst in thee, I should, as thou, a heavenly mirror be. 206 FROM THE SWEDISH. I thirst ! God, fountain immense of love, Eternal life gleams from thy throne above. Give me a drop ! my parched lips are burning. No cordial in the desert world discerning, Whose vapid streams impure revive not me, — I thirst but for eternity and Thee ! 207 FROM THE DANISH. EXTRACTS FROM VALDEMAR THE GREAT AND HIS MEN, An Historical Poem by Ingemann. Thus Denmark's agony for aid appealed, Now openly to Axel's eyes revealed. With Denmark's misery he sighed of late, Open to enemies stood Denmark's gate. Where'er with fond domestic look he gazed, Castles and towns appeared, to ruins razed. The Danish voice shall not delight his ear Before the wail of fugitives he hear ; And hatred's sharp discordant tones ring forth 208 FROM THE DANISH. E'en in the loving language of tlie North. King Knud augments his strength with Saxon men King Svend in Roskild arms himself agen : Amid the King of Zealand's chosen band Duke Valdemar and Asbiom Snare stand. Axel the White to them his banner brings, The sword of battle broad beside him swings, His ample breast a gleaming cuirass wears ; Him the grey Danish steed with pleasure bears. The war-axe clashes at the saddle bow ; The ermine mantle's folds about him flow, And wrap his broad and manly shoulders round. Upon the roe-skin boots the gold spurs sound. The golden crown-hart springs in Axel's shield, And deep within its heavenly azure field Are one and twenty little stars of gold : Who sees him seems a monarch to behold, But whoso views beneath his helm's defence, As with the highest God in confidence, The soul clear shining in his look and mien, Of quiet strength, decided and serene, VALDEMAR THE GREAT. 209 He deems he sees, in princely garb arrayed, In pomp of cMvalry, with arms to aid, A champion of the Church, her faithful Knight, Who in the world for soul's repose will fight ; And, combating below, can stedfastly Wage holy warfare for eternity. By Axel's side rides all awry, Out o'er the saddle bending, His Scribe, (the Clerk's cowl o'er his eye) In thoughtful silence wending. While on his cheek the moon-beam dwells, The scholar's toil by light Of lamp, his aspect truly tells, In wakeful winter night. The spring-seed down grows on the chin, The brow is winter-furrowed ; Almost, the cloisters grey within. His hair their greyness borrowed. p 210 FEOM THE DANISH. In books and writings he hath skill, None as a Knight to ride ; He jolts on like a rustic still, Heel in his horse's side. His absent mind away is gone, Present with ages past ; On his right haunch is buckled on The empty scabbard fast. Oft Axel at his friend must smile, And at his strange demeanour ; But oft, with high esteem the while, Lauds him in terms of honour. In aspect stranger yet to see With the sealskin cap is he Of savage beard, who, in bear's hide. Club and dagger by his side. Banner bears through light and dark. Following the Knight and Clerk. VALDEMAR THE GREAT. 211 Squire at arms is Arnold old, Little, muscular and bold : Tales he knows of ancient days In the Scald's bequeathed lays. Which he glad recalls again. Not for learning seeks he praise : At dust of Schools and cloister-phrase In his beard he smiles disdain. But the Seer's spirit dwells In him, the old man's soul it swells, Deep and mysterious as the sea : And of the Lord's impending doom, And of the times that are to come, What he darkly can forebode His giant voice oft warns aloud, Wild as Northern Elf's might be. Their coursers' track sinks in the snow, Foremost is Asbiorn Snare, 212 FROM THE DANISH. And long dotli earnest converse flow Between tlie brother pair. The compact with Zealand's Monarch made By Valdemar, pleases them ill, Yet the hands that need together laid, The same need may sever still. But the Roskild Brothers' great emprize, The fame of the Ocean Knight, With the pious league that aid supplies, The Brothers much dehght. Of new made Guilds and plans supprest Tells Rumour's double tongue ; Yet Axel open deeds likes best. To honom- they belong. •• But, Brother dear, now teU to me, How may the Lady Kirstin be, Sister of high-born Valdemar ? Her fame hath reached to countries far." — So asked Sir Axel hastily, And with anticipating eye. VALDEMAR THE GREAT. 213 AsMorn to answer made no haste : " I think my steed his shoe will cast." " She is not married yet ?" pursued Axel in quick impetuous mood. " When I went forth from Denmark's land She dreamed not of betrothal-band ; With her Foster-Mother m Bower-room She sat and sewed, or wove i' the loom ; But to that child might none compare," " In Denmark's Realm is none more fair," With reddened cheek Sir Asbiorn said ; *' Yet, of peculiar mind, the maid Whom pleases best is hard to tell. And scarcely any please her well. But thou wilt startle at my word When thou my secret dear hast heard. Thou knowest, when we together played. She mirthfully our Queen was made — When thou in other lands didst ride, She was called in sport my little Bride. 214: FEOM THE DANISH. But the jest had end as she grew in height, Yet I dreamed of her almost each night. And see ! I sat in the month of May With Valdemar in the woods one day ; We drank both mead and clear wine there, And our talk fell on Kirstin fair. I grasped the Chiefs hand heartily, And boldly said, not boastingly : •' The white Skialm's race as a King's is good, To you noble Chief, I give my blood, For you I lay down my youthful life, But give me little Kirstin to wife.' " The Duke made answer in mirthful sort, ' My sister knows but of childish sport, Your garments to make she lacks the skill.' Silent I thought' — She can learn if she will ! So thereon to Kib6-town I rode. And, sending to the maid's abode From thence fair silks and Sindal new. Asked Lady Kirstin the robe to sew. VALDEMAR THE GREAT. 215 She smiled, and to her chamber went To sew it to her own content — And — blessings on the fingers small ! I love this court robe mine to call, Concerning which I heard so oft The Danish maidens singing soft. ' " She sewed upon his garment's seam Fish gliding in the rapid stream. Upon his shoulder he shall wear Fifteen Knights with swords made bare. Around his arms enwreathed advance Fifteen maidens in a dance. And last she sewed upon his breast How the Knight the maiden kist.' " So carols Asbiorn Snare, gay. And his fair tunic shows ; There fish within the swift stream play, There stand the Knights in rows. ^16 FEOM THE DA^sISH. He lets in playfal prancings slioot Forward his coui'ser ligM, — • But Axel sits as pale and mute As sculptui'ed marble Knight. He sees the red dawn, spreading wide-, Eoskild Cathedral fire ; " See, brother, see, my lofty Bride Beckons with crown and spire ! It seems as though my lance would bend Unto a Shepherd's crook ; The Bride whom I for mine intend Stands glorious yonder, look ! 3Iy life on earth, if God allow, With Denmark's Church abides, My Bride I seek as high as thou, Us both Skialm's spirit guides. Like liim thou bravely arms canst wield> Thy luck seek high and bold, And, as the eagle on his shield. Build thou in mountain hold. My tabernacle I prepare YALDEMAR THE GREAT. 217 Upon the Church hearthstone. A single Warrior shall stand there, And faithful fall, alone." ** Though but one Eagle's claw be mine," Then Asbiorn Snare replies, " It lets me ne'er in rest recline, But with me high will rise. Thy Hart can make a spring as bold. Thy stars beam high and bright ; But do not choose the Church, 'tis cold. Death lurks there out of sight. For shouldst thou sit on Eskild's seat, Kings fearing threat of thine. Thy life, a sun devoid of heat, Would yet unfruitful shine." " Brother !" — answered Axel white, " Not to pomp my life I vow, I the holy strife will fight. Give to Denmark fruit as thou. 218 FROM THE DANISH. Need the stem of WMte Skialm die Though one hranch to God be given To bear forth a standard high In a warfare blessed of Heaven ? Winning the Lord's victories Not unfruitfnlly it waves, From the Church tower it will rise O'er free warriors' honoured graves." With voice of power thus spake the Knight,^ His warrior breast heaved high its might. Him his twin brother silently scanned, But that shining glance could not understand ; Of the difficult contest he never dreams, Nor the victory which in that clear eye beams But with quiet soul looks out on life, And sees the palm for its worldly strife. The sunshine over Issefiord casts On shipping, and their forest masts Its radiance, and upon the to\vn Unto the warrior's eyes well known. VALDEMAE THE GEEAT. 219 Old Roskild with Mgh towers up-springs, With buttress, moat and cloister wings. Where Haraldshorg clear waters lave. White flags with mighty eagles wave : St. Clara's bells for Mass now sound, From twenty towers the peals resound ; But the highest and most powerful calls Loud from St. Lucy's warrior halls. Silent, and quiet in deep thought Sir Axel's gaze the Minster sought. Where turns the mill the river's force The maiden's bower stands by the source. Asbiorn, who saw a lattice shine. Open, with beckoning hand made sign. There, by St. Oluf's waters bright Waved in the sun a kerchief white ; A maiden form his quick glance caught. Little Kirstin was it then ? he thought — And he spurred his courser to quicker bound ; On Roskild's bridge the horse-hoofs sound. 220 FEOM THE DANISH. On the lattice sunshine played, On the reddened wall it glowed. More than one noble maid Adorned the fair abode. Little Kirstin there at ease Sports by the sewing-board. And cunningly can teaze The maids with roguish word^ Small handmaids her adorn "With princely linen white. With scarlet bodice, worn Close to her figure slight. The handmaids in her shoes Place ribbons as she sits. Through her small fingers flows The golden hair she plaits. Of maid betrothed and lover She hums a mirthful lay ; Her mirror-shield bends over,. And, as a child, is gay. Serious, and dark of eye, VALDEMAR THE GEEAT. 221 With silver-crested head, Proud Ingefried the high I' the loom threw golden thread. A silver girdle bound Her robe of ocean-blue, And at her side were found Needles, and sharp knife too. Whoe'er White Axel knows. Whoe'er saw Asbiorn's face Need ask none to disclose Their sister's name and race. Skialm's lineage declares In her features proud its sway, If she is wroth, it scares The handmaidens away. Yet her cheeks do not glow, But, quiet, stern and cold, She has the Nomen's brow From heathen times of old. A shoulder- scarf she weaves Of blue and gold alone, 222 FROM THE DANISH. An Elephant upheaves Its wanior tower thereon. With the huge beast a Knight A combat bold pursued, It bowed before his might, On bloody knee subdued. From the curious web glide over Her looks to the wateiy track, Where the proud ships of the Rover Return with booty back. The Viking's vessels bring It now the coast along ; She hears the wild notes ring Of the Warriors' pious song. On sails filled with the breeze A badge she can discover, And at the helm she sees Strong Vetteman, her lover. Ingefried at the view Her large dark eyes casts down. VALDEMAE THE GREAT. 223 From her white hands anew The golden spool is thrown. But in a nook alone Fair Huldfrid lace is twining, Singing in soft low tone, The words to her heart confining. Over the light bine eye Falls down the flaxen hair ; 'GaiQSt golden broidery- Throbs quick her bosom fair. Of knightly troop at speed She heard the tramp and din, And Asbiorn on his steed Saw to the town come in. She waved the linen white The open lattice thro'; But then with blushes bright Back to her corner drew. Gay Kirstin will not spare 224: FKOM THE DANISH. The Maiden's rosy blush, " Do foes, Hiddfrid fair. Into our city rush ? Thou sitt'st in the hearth nook Like the red embers burning, Hath a Ejiight met thy look In silk and gold returning ?" "■ I saw the knight go by Whose tunic was from you, He waved his hand on high. That the whole town saw too." The lady tossed her head, Subtle and shrewd was she ; " The Knight makes too much speed. But the fault lies not with me. I sewed upon the seam The Knights in wreath advancing, I sewed fish in the stream, And merry maidens dancing ; But who sewed on his breast VALDEMAE THE GREAT. 225 The image, secretly, Of the bold knight that kist The Maiden, fair and shy ? Who at the midnight hour Hath played at such a game ? Small Brownies used their power, I wot, and hear the blame. Fair Huldfrid coyly sews And pricks her fingers small, And though the red blood flows She heeds it not at all. But little Kirstin turned to see The web of Ingefried : " That shoulder- scarf well pleases me, It asks both skill and heed. Who was the Prince whose arm Subdued a beast so great ; Did he escape all harm ? Po thou the tale relate !" " To princely blood and actions high 226 FEOM THE DANISH. He needs assert no claim, Whose trace is found in time gone by. Whose deeds are known to fame. To Austria and to Afric's strand So many warriors went ; But 'twas the sea-knight Vetteman Who slew the Elephant." So answered then proud Ingefried, But Kirstin's smile was gay ; " That was a combat strange indeed : More of him canst thou say ? Perhaps he swam the Jordan o'er In brave Crusader's guise. Perhaps each bulrush on the shore Could tell his Mistress' praise ; He surely on the rushes tied Knots to keep memory true. And by his hand there doubtless died Of dragons one or two. Wild beasts he well can conquer by The runic rhymes of old, VALDEMAR THE GEEAT. 227 Nor favour would to liim deny The maid most proud and cold." Swift o'er tlie maiden's cheek there spread The blush such tauntings call ; From sewing-seat proud Ingefried Rose up, erect and tall : " If Vetteman a knot should tie Upon the holy strand. Prince Buris I know certainly Could not unloose the hand ; The Roskild brothers oft and oft 'Gainst Vendisk Dragon went ; Buris the time with ditties soft Beside your work-board spent. That hero runes can well engrave, To pass an idle hour. But Vetteman is not so brave In entering ladies' bower." Then little Kirstin blushed blood-red. ^28 FEOM THE DANISH. And 'neath her mantle's hood Concealed the tears, for pride unshed. That in her bright eyes stood. Capriciously herseK she bore, She smiled, to weep while fain ; Prince Buris would she never more See with her eyes again. True, he within her heart was dear- — How dear she now perceives ; Yet honour has more worth to her Than aught for which she grieves. The sun shines through the lattice still, And on the wall glows bright : But little Kirstin has no will To further jestings light. 229 THE RETURN OF THE DEAD. From a Collection of Old Danish Ballads. Edited by Oehlenschlager. Childe Dyring has ridden by wood and by glade. And betrothed to himself so fair a maid. They were together above seven years, And seven children to him she bears. But Death came where they dwelt in the land, And pale grew the beautiful lily wand. Then rode the Childe forth by wood and by glade ; He married again another Maid. He led her home as his plighted Bride ; But she was bitter, and ill to bide. 230 FEOM THE DANISH. When in the court she the children spies. The seven stand with tears in their eyes. They stood in sorrowM mood that day ; She thrust them all with her foot away. She gave the children no ale nor meat, And cried : "Ye shall hunger, ye shall not eat." The bedding soft she took away : " Now lie in the mere straw alway." She took from them the great wax light : " In the dark house ye shall bide all night." In the evening late the children wept, And their Mother heard, 'neath the mould who slept. That heard the woman in earth laid low : " To my little children I sure must go." The woman to our Lord prayed so : '* May I to my little children go ?" THE EETURN OF THE DEAD. 231 So long she asked, so long she pled, He let her go even from the dead. " But at the cock-crow come again, No longer from thy grave remain !" She upwards sprang with weary bones, That rent the wall of marble stones. As she passed through the town, so high The dogs howled out to the gloomy sky. As she came to the castle-gate, Her eldest daughter did by it wait. " Why standest thou here dear daughter mine ? How are small brothers and sisters thine ?" " Thou art never a Mother of mine, For she was both fair and fine. My mother was white, her cheeks were red, But thou art pale and like one dead." 232 FKOM THE DANISH. " Oil how should I be white and red ? So long I have been pale and dead !" When in the house she came, down all The children's cheeks the tears did fall. One's hair she plaited, the other's she brushed. The third she lifted, the fourth she hushed. The fifth within her arms she prest, As though to nurse it at her breast. Her eldest daughter then bade she : " Ask thou Childe Dyring to come to me. When he within the chamber stood ^he spoke to him in wrathful mood : " I left behind me both ale and bread. My little ones suffer hunger's need. Of bedding soft I left supply, In the bare straw my children lie. THE RETURN OF THE DEAD. 233 I left behind the great wax light, My children lie in the dark all night, Should I many times come back to you An evil fate must then ensue." Little Kirstin answered, in bed lay she : " Thy children shall find good Mother in me." Each time the dogs did bay, for dread They gave the children ale and bread. Each time the clamour of dogs they heard. They quaked at the dead one's walk and word. When they heard the small dogs howl in fear, They shuddered lest the Dead were near. 234 THE JEWELLER. Oehlenschlager. See, the young and gi-acefd Charlotte, Wilhehn's daughter, LandgTavine, Sits within the garden's cool grot Silent, with a musing mien. She, to Denmark's Lord affianced, Christian, fifth who rules that land. In tender fear by pleasure balanced, Leans her head upon her hand. She sighs with him to be acquainted Whom but her fancies represent ; He has promised that his painted Image shall to her be sent ; THE JEWELLER. But artists easily can flatter, — He is handsome, so men tell, Yet 'tis no unlikely matter This may he flattery as well. As she sat in thought concentred, Graceful in her garments white, At the door one, tapping, entered. And a stranger met her sight : 'Neath his arm a casket hearing By a satin wrap concealed, And the soher hahits wearing Which the Burgher class revealed. Stedfastly on her he gazes, And in his enraptured eyes The fair sight such fire raises, That the Princess softly sighs " He is handsome !" rosy glowing, StiU he stedfast looks on her ; Low he bends, Hke subject bowing, Says he is a Jeweller. 235 236 FEOM THE DANISH. With clear stones, so brilliant-sided. Circled are her fingers white, — What a costly store provided ! Fiery rubieg ! diamonds bright ! She ne'er hopes to buy such splendor, And she sits with doubtful mien. Hardly glancing at the vendor, When the Landgrave enters in. Little comforts he his daughter As he sees the costly gear ; Morosely at their brilliant water Shakes his head ; '* the gems are clear !" Scarce a King to buy would offer. Though their worth he weU might prove ; Landgraves can make no such proffer. You the jewels may remove !" The JeweUer did not retire, But before them deeply bent ; " To the Princess the attire Belongs, if so she be content ; THE JEWELLER. 237 For her suitor with the treasure Sent me from his Danish home : ' If to Charlotte they give pleasure/ Said he — 'they her own hecome !' " — " The fifth Christian sent thee hither ?" " Yes, from him this gift I hring,'* " See we him with summer weather?" " First grant the wishes of the King ! To the Princess his approved Portrait he would offer now, That the graceful, the beloved, May her lover rightly know. " A letter too ; from his dominions Hither now the Monarch flies, For his love has lent him pinions, And with Elfin powers he flies." " Burgher ! what suspicion rises ?" Have no care to ask my Burgh, I myself, now drop disguises, Burgher am of Oldenburgh ! 238 FROM THE DANISH. I have done what I projected, And for Charlotte waits a crown ; Be the person not rejected, Be approved the portrait shown. Diamonds, that to her I tender, Are hut hauhles, howe'er hright, — Her beauties and her virtues render Radiance that outshines their light." 239 WHEN CLOSED ARE MINE EYES. HOLST. When closed are mine eyes. And the fresh greensward lies On the hillock 'neath which I am sleeping When a bird in the tree Sings a grave-song o'er me, Alone in its leafy home keeping ; Shall I sleep safe from harm ? No desire nor alarm Strike my coffin, the inmate to waken ? Will my soul as it flies. When closed are mine eyes, Not linger near all thus forsaken ? 240 FEOM THE DANISH. Nay truly ! of worth There is nothing on earth That can drag it below from its Heaven ; That will summon it down, From the peace now its own, To the tumult confusedly driven. Is it, Rose, thy rich bloom ? Is it, Billow, thy foam ? Or Mountains crowned by the sky's azure ? Is it, Zephyr, thy play ? Is it, Star, thy clear ray ? — I shall see aU above, without measure. Is it thou, at whose side I with strength was supplied. In joy or in grief failing never ? Nay, thy Bier became mine, And my path shall be thine, We will trace it, united for ev^ ! WHEN CLOSED AKE MINE EYES. 241 And yet one tMng I prize — "Why bedewed are mine eyes Wliilst on home still with tenderness dwelling ? Oh my dearly loved son, Oft unseen and alone Down my cheek for thy sake tears are stealing. On thy fair blooming face, On thy young mind the trace Of innocence now is imprinted ; There no poisons distil. By no learning to ill Is thy temple, purity ! tainted. And thou dost not foresee That though smiling may be The way now so fair to thee seeming, There lies foam on the wave, — For thy virtue a grave,' — Oh my child, this is far from thy dreaming ! 242 FEOM THE DANISH. And thou knoVst not the power That in pleasure's gay hour Will prepare thee repentance and anguish, That an entrance will find To thy soul, to thy mind, And cling to thy heart till it languish. That will make courage bow And dry up thy blood's flow, And may be . .at such thoughts I am shrinking ! And thy Father cannot Guide thy way from the spot Where thou'rt shipwrecked, and keep thee from sinking ! As the wandering bird From its nest that hath erred Shalt thou flutter on wind and on wave, — Who shall guide then thy flight, When mine eyes see no light, And how shall I rest in my grave ? WHEN CLOSED ARE MINE EYES. 243 Who shall guide then thy flight, When mine eyes see no light — Oh fool, that sees not where to place thee ! There is One o'er the sky — Unto Him wilt thou fly, In His arms He vnR dearly embrace thee ! 2U FATHERLAND, WHAT HAST THOU LOST! HOLST. Fatherland, what hast thou lost ! Tliine old King sleeps to-day ! A restless life, for lahour formed. Time's waves have swept away. A heart, for people and for land, That beat with love, then broke, — A heart that mildly construed law. And a mild judgment spoke ! And though the Future, formed by him, To thee rich fruit repay, — Fatherland, what hast thou lost ! Thine old King sleeps to-day. 245 ON THE CORONATION OF KING CHRISTIAN. HOLST. King Christian kneeleth humbly down With kingly mantle, sceptred hand, Before Him, who each earthly crown Sees as a drop, a grain of sand. The sight- dehghted many look On kingly pomp, on sceptre bright, On shining crown — and look and look. As long as eye can bear their light ; But can they fancy, can they know. What thoughts inspire the royal breast ; For whom he prays, while, kneeling low, His words are to the Lord addrest ? 246 FKOM THE DANISH. For us and for our weal he prayeth, Since People's weal is King's defence, His spring of gladness is their faith, His brightest gem, their confidence. How can his eye in quiet close If the Land's children close no eye ? How on his lips a smile repose, If inconsolable we sigh ? Nay, even as we do, he must fare. And smiles and tears, and Hght and shade, The King must with his people share, — So for our good his prayer he made. Then let us on this day raise high A rampart strong his throne around, A wall disunion to defy. And discontent scare from its bound. Of love shaU we build this defence ! From love each coward doubt shall flee. All fear shall vanish ; rising thence Her dawn again shall Denmark see ! KING CHRISTIAN. 247 Its fresh free spirit-breath then may Make King and People both secure, And let us therefore on this day Build him of love a rampart sure ! 248 REQUIEM. A Farewell to H. P. Y. Lyngbye, from the Students' Association. HOLST. Sleep well, sleep sweetly ! here's thy bed prepared. We bring thee unto rest, our pallid brother ! We, who oft with thee sport and laughter shared, Now follow thee with weeping to our Mother. Tender she is and good ! The features pale Soon will she cover, yielding for the dead Her verdure and her flowers thy veil to spread : Between rose hedges now she bids us hail, With thrush-song from the lime trees ; in her breast So is it meet a Minstrel should find rest. REQUIEM. 249 A Minstrel, — ^yes, for bleeding did expire A captive bird, within his bosom borne, A captive bird, that sang with sweet desire Of Freedom in a bright eternal morn. — It sang so from the heart : 'twas not the bird Rich with a golden plumage on his wing, "Whose warlike notes throughout the greenwood ring ; Ah no, upon a lonely way is heard Far from the multitude its simple note, — Therefore it often o'er the grave shall float. Sleep well, sleep sweetly ! Earth, how rich art thou, How great the treasure in thy lap we lay ! Thou hoardest songs' full choirs, and flower seeds low. And the dust's splendour, and crowds once so gay. What we with fond embraces would enwrap Thou in thy gloomy dwelling dost retain — On our dead treasure fixed our eyes remain, And therefore fall our tears upon thy lap. Take him then also ! we upon songs' wing Our latest greeting to the Minstrel bring. 250 FROM THE GERMAN. THE HAPPY LOVER. Burger. How happy, in his true-love hlest. How happy lives the man ! He lives, as, though of realms possest. No Prince or Monarch can. He values not his happiness At price of earthly pelf : He thinks himself, though penniless, As rich as Croesus' self. The world may run its coui^se or stop ; Things alter their position To upside down and down side up ; Unchanged is his condition ! THE HAPPY LOVEE. 251 " Huzza !" he sings, " who cares for wind, Why should we heed the rain ? It can but blow and blow, the wind ; And wet gets dry again. Through ev'ry vein may circle fresh And unopposed his blood ; More healthy is he than a fish In its own cooling flood. His food by day and sleep by night Are undisturbed and sweet ; To Paradise his dreams take flight There with his Eve to meet. In bliss supreme exults the man Whose thoughts unbounded rove ; Who tells, or sings, if sing he can. The kisses of his Love. — 252 FEOM THE GERMAN. Yet, ah ! my words go down the wind, Whilst I alone still pine ! little Eve, be not unkind, Come swiftly and be mine ! 253 THE MINSTREL. Goethe. Before the gate what do I hear. And on the drawbridge sound ? Go, let the song unto our ear Within the hall resound ! The King thus spake, the page obeyed ; The boy came back, the King then said " Here let the old man enter !" I greet you well, ye noble lords, I greet each lovely dame ! How rich a heaven the scene affords ! Who may its bright stars name ? This hall of splendid pomp within Be closed, mine eyes ; nor now begin Delightedly to wonder. 254 FROM THE GERMAN. The jMinstrel closed Ms eyes anon, And the Ml chords he struck ; The valiant Knights look boldly on, Downwards the fair ones look. The King, approving of the lay. Bids that, a guerdon meet to pay, A golden chain be brought him. " Nay, not on me the golden chain, But on thy Knights bestow, Before whose bold brows break amain The lances of the foe. Upon thy trusty Chancellor Do thou the golden weight confer, Added to other burdens. I sing, as sings the bird his note, That iu the green- wood lives ; The song that gushes from his throat Its own rich guerdon gives. THE MINSTREL. 255 Yet may I proffer one request, 'Tis that to me he brought the best Wine, in pure golden goblet." He raised the cup, he drank it all, *' Sweet is a draught like this ! Oh ! three times highly happy hall Where a small gift it is ! If it go well with you, as much Thank God, as warmly, as for such A draught e'en now I thank you." 256 NEAENESS OF THE BELOVED. Goethe. I think of thee, when from the Ocean glances The Sun's bright gleam ; I think of thee, when on the fountain dances The pale moon beam. I see thee, when on the far distance hovering Light dust-clouds play; When on the narrow bridge deep Night is covering The Wanderer's way. I hear thee, when with hollow murmur rushing The waters swell. In tranquil shades, when eve all sounds is hushing, I listen still. NEAENESS OF THE BELOVED. 257 I am with thee, although too far to meet me, Yet art thou near ! The sun sinks down, soon will the bright stars greet me, Oh wert thou here ! 258 THE IDEAL. Schiller. Thus wilt thou, faithless, from me sever,^ With thy beloved Phantasies, Thy joys, thy griefs ; and fly for ever, Regardless of my prayers and sighs ? Can nothing, fiigitive, delay thee, Life's golden time, hut once possest ? Thy waves haste on, no power can stay thee, Till in the eternal sea at rest. The joyous suns in night are shrouded. Which shone upon my path of youth ; The bright Ideals lost or clouded. Which swelled my heart in seeming truth ; THE IDEAL. 259 'Tis gOQe, the sweet belief, confiding In Beings wMch my dreams made mine, And rougli Eeality, abiding. Preys on the lovely and divine. As once, Ms wisb in prayer o'erflowing, Pygmalion the Stone embraced, TiU in tbe marble's cold cheeks glowing Warm feeliag all its beauty graced ; So I, my loving arms entwining Round nature, with fond youthful zest, Warmed her to live, to breathe, reclining Upon my faithful poet-breast. And, by the same strong impulse fired, The dumb one, speech no more denied, Gave back love's kiss, by love inspired, And to my heart's full tone replied. Then lived to me the tree, the flower, The silver fountain sang in glee ; The soul-less even felt life's power, And echoed back my own to me. 260 FEOM THE GERMAN. A circling all my breast expanded, • Enlarged with mighty force its bound, To enter life that force demanded. In deed and word, in form and sound. How large this world, while yet mysterious Within the bud it lay concealed ; In its unfolding, how penurious ! How poor the little now revealed ! How sprang, his steps bold courage winging, Enraptured in his dream's deceit. No care as yet its fetters bringing. Upon life's path the StripHng fleet. The palest star through sether gleaming Was reached in daring Fancy's flight ; Nothing too high, too distant seeming. When upborne on those wings of might; How light his course, unchecked, unbending. What could the fortunate withstand ? How danced, the car of life attending, Before him the aerial band : THE IDEAL. 261 Love, his sweet recompense bestowing, Fortune, with gold her tresses bound. Fame, with her star-crown brightly glowing. And Truth, who sun-light shed around ! Yet, ah ! ere half the way completed. The escort vanished one by one. Faithless they left him and retreated, Till his companions all were gone. Light-footed Fortune first departed, But still the thirst of Knowledge stayed. Though Doubt's dark thunder-clouds imparted To sun-bright Truth night's gloomy shade. I saw Fame's wreath, no longer hallowed. Crowning the mean ignoble head ; Ah, all too soon, by Autumn followed. The sweet spring-time of Love had fled ! Ever more stUl it was, and ever More lonely on the rough descent ; Scarce did the light of Hope pale quiver. Upon the gloomy way I went. 262 FROM THE GEEMAN. Of all the troop so gaily sporting, Who still waits loving at my side ? Who comforts me, my steps supporting, Till the dark house my form shall hide ? Thou, Friendship, for my sorrows caring, Whose gentle hand each wound hath hound, The hurden of existence sharing ; Thou whom I early sought and found. And thou, with her so gladly mated. As she dispels the Soul's rude storms. Employment, never tired or sated, Who ne'er destroys, though slow she forms : Who, still the eternal pile enlarging. Adds sand indeed hut grain hy grain, — Yet, the great deht of Time discharging. Minutes, days, years, strikes off again. 263 THE SHAEING OF THE EAETH. Schiller. " Take ye the world !" cried Jupiter from heaven Unto mankind ; " take, all your own shall be : To you as an inheritance 'tis given ; But share between you brotherly." Then haste all who have hands, possession taking, Active and busy rise both young and old ; The Husbandman afield his harvest making ; The Hunter ranging wood and wold. The Merchant takes whate'er his bams can treasure ; The Abbot chooses him the noblest wine ; The King bars streets and bridges at his pleasure, And speaks : " the tenth of all is mine." 264 FROM THE GERMAN. At last, when long the sharing had been over, The Poet came : he came from distance far. Ah, not a remnant left could he discover, For all he sees there owners are ! " Alas for me ! alone of all creation Am I forgot, I thy most faithful son ? " Thus loudly rose his cry of lamentation,— Prostrate he fell at Jove's high throne. " If in the land of dreams idly reposing," RepHed the god, " cast not the blame on me. Where wast thou, as all men their lot were choosing ? " I was," — the Poet said, — "with thee." " The glory of thy countenance enchaining Mine eye, thy heaven's harmony mine ear ; Forgive the spirit which, entranced remaining In thy light, lost its portion here !" THE SHAKING OF THE EARTH. 265 " What help ? " said Jove, — " the world away is given ; Chase, harvest, market, are no longer mine — But if thou wilt dwell with me in my heaven, Whene'er thou com'st, free entrance shall he thine." 266 THE RETURN OF THE POET. Uhland. There on his bier the Poet lies, Whose pallid lips no song may breathe ; The brow, which can no more devise. Of Daphne's hair wears faded wreath. In dainty scrolls by him appear The latest songs his spirit poured ; The Lyre, whose tone was once so clear, Lies in his arms, with silent chord. So slumbers he the slumber deep, His song still vibrates in each ear ; Yet but the more his loss they weep. The glorious one to them so dear. THE EETUEN OF THE POET. 267 Now montlis and years have passed away, And the dark cypress o'er him waves ; While those who wept his death that day Themselves are sunk in lowlier graves. Yet, as again returns the Spring Full of fresh power, with life imbued, In the New Age the Bard shall sing, Thus gloriJOied and thus renewed. Of the coM grave we trace no breath, The living now he dwells among ; The former Age, which mourned his death. Lives but in his immortal Song. 268 THE SHEPHEKD'S SUNDAY SONG. Uhland. This is the Lord's own Sabbath day ! I am apart on this wide plain, The morning bell sounds once again, Then silence, near and far away ! I worship, and sweet awe I feel : Mysterious breezes seem to blow 1 As if around, (unseen below) Many were praying while I kneel. The Heavens, near and far away. Solemn yet festive look, and bright As they would open to my sight — This is the Lord's own Sabbath day ! 269 THE DEATH-FEELING. Uhland. Who knows the feelings of a dying hour ? Yet have I strangely been this night imprest ; My limbs appeared already in Death's power, And life's last effort throbbing in my breast. Tremors unknown my Spirit overcame, The Spirit, which so firm believed its sway ; Expiring now, then kindling a faint flame, So feeble, that the winds drove it away. How ? was I captive to a grievous dream ? I hear the lark, red is the morning light, New wishes urge me to life's active stream. How ? the Death-angel, was he passing here ? The flowers, which yester-eve bloomed fresh and bright, Hang from the stalk, and withered now appear. 270 THE CASTLE BY THE SEA. Uhland. Hast thou the Castle noted, The Ocean Fortress high ? Golden and rosy floated Clouds o'er it through the sky. In tides beneath it flowing It seeks a mirror clear ; Where evening clouds are glowing Its height it would uprear. " The Castle I have noted, The 6cean Fortress high, Grey clouds above it floated The pale moon lit the sky." THE CASTLE. 271 Did wind and sea in motion Give music fresh and strong ? Those Halls above the Ocean, Resounded they with song ? " The winds, the waves all sleeping In deep repose lay hushed Only a song of weeping From forth the casements gushed." Saw'st thou above thee moving Appear the King and Queen ? The scarlet mantles waving ? The crowns of golden sheen ? Led they not forth, joy-beaming, A maiden wond'rous fair. As sun-light glorious streaming Her radiant golden hair ? 272 FROM THE GERMAN. " I saw indeed both Parents, Their golden crowns forgot, Arrayed in mourning garments ; The maiden I saw not." 273 THE SONG OF THE MOUNTAIN BOY. Uhlan D. I am the mountain's shepherd-boy, Here first the sunbeams wake to joy, And latest touch its gorgeous crown. I look upon proud Castles down : ' I am the mountain boy ! The torrent's mother-home is here, From out the rock I drink it clear, And from the cliff, in headlong race, It leaps into my fond embrace : I am the mountain boy ! ^74 FEOM THE GEEMAN. The mountain's my inheritance, The circling storms form warrior-dance, But let them howl from south to north. Above them still my song peals forth : I am the mountain boy ! Thunder and lightnings under me. Mid the blue heavens stand I free ; I know and warn them as they rouse : Leave ye in peace my father's house ! I am the mountain boy ! If the aJarm-bell e'er should sound. Fires glowing on the hills around, I'll join my brethren's close array, And wield my sword, and sing my lay I am the mountain boy ! 275 THE SERENADE. Uhlan D. "Who from my slumter wakens me With sounds of such sweet power ? Mother, look ! who may it be, So late as is the hour ? " I no one see, I hear none sing, Oh slumber, soft and mild ! None now a Serenade will bring To thee, my poor sick child !" It is not earthly melody That I with rapture hear ; The Angels call me from the sky : Good night, Mother dear ! 276 GOSSAMER. Uhland. O'er fields where we are passing, flies A summer-tliread from Fairies' hand, Spun light and shiningly — and ties, From me to her I love, a band. For a good omen this I take, A sign that to Love's need seems fair ; Hopes of the rich in hope, ye break. Slight floating threads, at breath of air ! 277 PRAISE OF THE SPRING. Uhland. Verdure, Violets, Mayflowers, Lark's glad song on fluttering wing, Soft perfumed air, and sunny showers ! When such simple words I sing, Need I loftier tribute bring, To praise thee, sweet day of Spring ? 278 WORDS OF AN OLD MAN. Uhland. Repeat no more good morning and good day ! Good evening and good night now ever say ! For evening is around, and night is near — Oh, if akeady I could find it here ! My child ! my own sweet Life, come here to me ! Nay, rather come, sweet Death, so dear to me ! For what is bitter, Life I name it all, And what is sweet to me, that Death I call. 279 PRAYER DURING THE BATTLE. KORNEE. Father, I call on Thee ! Round me the thunder of hattle is crashing, Through clouds of smoke the red lightnings are flashing. Guider of conflict, I call on Thee, Father, thou lead me ! Father, Thou lead me ! Lead me to Victory, lead me to death. Lord, Thy command may dispose of my breath ; Lord, as Thou wilt, so lead me, God, I acknowledge Thee ! 280 FROM THE GEEMAN. God, I acknowledge Thee ! As in the rustling of Autumn leaves light, So in the thunder, the storm of the fight, Source of all grace, I acknowledge Thee. Father, Thou bless me ! Father, Thou Hess me ! Lord, in thy hand my existence I lay. Thou, who hast given it, may'st take it away, For life and for death, oh bless me, Father, I praise Thee ! Father, I praise Thee ! This is no combat for earthly possession, The holiest our swords now protect from oppression : Therefore, falling, and conquering, I praise Thee, God, unto Thee I devote me ! PEAYEE DURING THE BATTLE. 281 God, unto Thee I devote me ! When Death in thunder against me is roaring, When from my veins the red torrent is poming, Unto my God I devote me ! Father, I call on Thee ! 282 TELL'S CHAPEL. Stolberg. Observe this lioly Chapel's site, Here William Tell first saw the light ; Here where God's altar now is spread Stood then his parents' marriage bed ! With deep and inward happiness The Mother did her infant bless ; Forgot her pain, and felt but joy- As to her heart she held the boy. She asked* of God : oh may he be Thy servant, upright, brave and free ! God heard, and thought : I more will do Through him, than a whole army through ! tell's chapel. 283 He gave him of warm blood the force, Courage of Eagle, strength of horse, 'Mid towering crags bold way to win, The falcon's eye, and fire therein ! To Nature, and His holy "Word The boy was trusted by the Lord : Where forth the mountain streamlet gushed The hero's spirit upward rushed. The labouring oar, and Chamois-hunt Strengthened his limbs for warlike brunt ; Danger his sport, however shown ; His greatness was to him unknown. He knew not that his single hand. Strengthened by God, his Fatherland Should rescue from the foreign yoke. Whose base restraint he nobly broke. 284 LOVE'S MAGIC. Matthisson. Where hovers Love with pinion bright, Creation always lives ; To deserts, life, to stormy night, The blush of morn he gives ! The darkest rocks of ocean, bare And silent, stern and cold, When his enchantments enter there. To' Paradise unfold. 285 THE FUTURE LIFE. Salis. Into the quiet Land Who will guide us over ? Already clouds our evening heaven cover, And wrecks are strewing more and more the strand. Who will then gnide us with a gentle hand Over ! ah ! over. Into the quiet Land ? Into the quiet Land, To you vast spaces free For growing nobler ! tender dreams are ye Of beauteous souls ! pledge of what shall be gained. Whoever faithful in life's fight did stand, His germ of hope shall see Bloom in the quiet Land. 286 FEOM THE GERMAN. All Land ! ah Land ! For all whom storms are nearing, The mildest Messenger of Fate appearmg, With torch reversed signs to us his command, And guides us with a soft and gentle hand ; Unto the country of the great Dead steering, Unto the quiet Land. 287 LOVE. My heart, I thee will question, What love is, now reveal ? " Two souls, one thought possessing, Two hearts, one throb that feel." And say from whence love cometh ? " It comes, its power we prove." And say how does love vanish ? " Ah ! then it was not love." And when is love the strongest ? " When thought of self is gone—' And when is it the deepest ? " When purest it is shown." 288 FROM THE GEEMAN. And when is love the richest ? " 'Tis richest when it gives." And tell me how love speaketh ? " It speaketh not, it lives.'' 289 CONSOLATION. NOVALIS. When one within his chamber lonely Sits weeping heavy bitter tears ; While tinged with need and sorrow only The neighbourhood around appears ; He in the times for ever vanished As into an abyss looks deep, In which all things beloved, now banished. With sweet grief draw him down the steep ; — He feels as though vast treasures lying Below, were heaped for him to grasp ; The guardian key of which he, flying Breathless and wild, still strives to clasp. 290 FEOM THE GEEMAN. The future lies, a desert dreary Of fearful length before him spread, He roams about, alone and weary, And seeks himself with feverish dread. Then in his arms I sink, confiding To him — " Like thine was grieved my breast. Yet was my misery not abiding, I know where man may ever rest. " Like me, that Being must restore thee Who loved, who suffered, and who died ; With free and willing mercy for thee And his worst enemies he died. " He died, and yet in every hour Thou may'st see Him, His love, His grace. And always have the blessed power To seek His tender, dear embrace. CONSOLATION. 291 " "With Him new strength and life is driven Into thy dead hones, cold and dry, And when to Him thy heart is given, His shall he thine eternally. " What thou hast lost. He found ; thou meetest With Him, all that thou here didst love ; And thine shall he, in union sweetest. For ever, what He gives ahove." 292 FROM THE FRENCH. TO MY FIRST-BORN. (XV. Century.) Clotilde de Surville. — ♦ — infant dear, true portrait of thy father, Sleep on the bosom that thy lips have pressed ! Sleep, little one ; on bosom of thy mother Close thy sweet eyes, by slumber's weight oppressed. May they, dear little one, my lovely friend. Enjoy a sleep no longer made for me ; 1 watch to see thee, nourish thee, defend .... How sweet it is only to watch for thee ! Sleep, my own little child, my joy, my care, Sleep on my bosom that bore thee erewhile ; No word of thine rejoices yet my ear, Though I am oft enchanted by thy smile ! infant dear, .... TO MY FntST-BOEN. 293 Perhaps in waking, friend, a smile will rise ; Answering my joyous looks thou'lt smile on me : Thine much have told me, and within mine eyes Already hast thou learnt thyself to see. What ! thy white fingers from my breast remove, Where thy mouth draws the stream its thirst to slake ! Ah ! should'st thou drain it, thou dear pledge of love. All that I wish to give thou would'st not take. Dear little one, my tender son ! how fain Do I behold my care, my love, my treasure ! I see thee always, yet would see again. Too brief seem day and night for such pure pleasure, infant dear, .... His little arms extend ; sleep calm and meek Closes his eye ; how still, how sweet his face. But for the rosy tint upon his cheek, Would'st thou not say he was in Death's embrace ? Stay, dearest child !....! tremble with affright. Awake thee ! chase this thought, thine eyes unclose ! My son ! . . . . one moment .... see again the light ! 294 FEOM THE FEENCH. At price of thine restore me my repose ! He slept ! I breathe, my error fond is o'er. Flatter his sleep, light dreams, and make it sweet ! Ah ! when shall he whom I am sighing for Beside me joyfully his waking greet ? infant dear, .... When will he see thee from whom came thy being, The fairest of mankind, by holy vow My own ? Ah yes, in fancy I am seeing Thy little hands towards him extended now ! How pleased will he be at thy first caress, How from my kisses will he snatch thee, child ! Think not thyself to exhaust his tenderness. He will reserve as much for his Clotild. His image with what pleasure will he trace In thee, his large eyes, sweet yet full of fire, That noble brow, the graciousness of face Which even Love might jealously desire ! infant dear, .... TO MY FIRST-BOEN. 295 For me, no jealous feelings shall possess My mind, at transports that I share with thee ; Make, friend, like him, a fond wife's happiness. But let her not mourn absence like to me ! ... . I speak, thou hearest not .... (what do I say ? If fully waked, no better could he hear !) Thy threads of thought, poor little darling, stray In tangled skein, not yet arranged and clear. We all have been as thou, but that is past ; Sad reason comes, with or without our will, If possible, retain the peace thou hast. In brightest days to be remembered still, infant dear, true portrait of thy father, Sleep on the bosom that thy lips have pressed ! Sleep, little one ; on bosom of thy mother Close thy sweet eyes, by slumber's weight oppressed . 296 CHORUS. Ending Act III. of Racine's "Athalie." Who can disturb the still Peace of that heart, my God, which loveth Thee ? It seeks in everything Thy sovereign will, And from its own is free. Is there more happiness in earth, in Heaven, Than the calm peace which to that heart is given, Whose love is fixed on Thee ? 297 The beginning of a Poem addressed to M. Abbe F. de la Mennais. Lamartine. — ♦ — My soul rejoicing to shake off her chain, Lays down her load of human care and pain, Leavingmy senses over earth to rove, I freely reach the Spirits' world above. Spurning the Visible for realms remote, In fields of possibility I float. My Soul, in her vast prison straitened round. Yearns for a home by no horizon bound. As drop of water to the ocean brought, The Infinite itself absorbs my thought ; There, queen of space and of eternity, It dares to measure time, immensity ; Roams o'er existence, and its bounds perceives. 298 FEOM THE FEENCH. God's essence inconceivable conceives. But when to paint my feelings words I seek, I find them all expire in efforts weak. My Soul believes that she hath power to speak ; My tongue embarrassed gives vain sounds alone, And but a shadow of my thought is known. God made two different languages for mind, The one in sounds articulate we find, This is the bounded language Men receive. Sufficient for the exile where we live ; And follo-^mig the lot which Mortals bear, With climate changes, or the passing year. The other is eternal and immense, Language innate of all inteUigence, And not dead sounds that in the ak depart, But a voice felt and living in the heart ; Explained, and known, and spoken by the Soul, It can impress, enlighten, and control : In prayer this is the language sent by Heaven, And which to know on earth alone to Love is given. 299 HYMN TO GRIEF. [With a few omissions.) Lamartine. Grief, strike again, if in my heart there be Room for another hlow of misery. Thou, who knoVst not to pity or forgive ! "What though mine eyes have no more tears to give, Some fibre may be found in me that will Unto thy torturing influence answer still. Like a cut serpent lying on the path. That 'neath the foot of Man yet writhes in wrath, When torpid rage he stimulates again. And e'en when life is gone, still searches pain. Perhaps from some unhoped-for, deep recess There may be wrung a cry of wretchedness, 300 FEOM THE FEENCH. That ne'er before from human Soul was brought : — The sound as music is by hatred caught. Search ! I surrender to thy jealousy, For I have nothing more to save from thee. Oft to prolong my life and suffering, Thou would'st a ray of hope unto me bring, As we let travellers their breath regain, To lead them farther in the path of pain. Oft in the night, broken by lightning's fire, Thou brought' st the cup of joy to my desire. And then, as it was mantUng to my view, Thy hand the flowing vase against me threw. And triumph now ! No string is in my heart, But there with suffering thou hast wrought thy part : No whitened hair is on my drooping head. But o'er it thou hast withering influence shed. And no affection in my Soul hath Hved, Nor hope, nor wish, but perished there deceived. Yet, hesitating as the past I view, HYMN TO GEIEF. 301 I still must doubt what name to thee is due. My lips would curse, but fear my soul restrains, In anguish still admiring awe remains. Thou mak'st the Man, Grief ! the man entire As gold is fined, steel hardened by the fire. Who knows thee not, knows not what life is worth He only crawls, he lives not upon earth ; He floats as clouds float o'er the world below, His vain and fruitless course no trace can show. He knows not, when his virtue weak appears, New force to give it with his burning tears ; He knows not how to combat with his heart (That painful conflict on the Victor's part) To raise a supplicating cry to Heaven, To feel on bended knee new power given. And in despair, which God alone can know. To lean on obstacles, and forward go. Thou art not the Soul's death, thou art her life, Healing, reviving even by blows and strife. Thou against whom my suffering oft hath spoken, 302 FEOM THE FEENCH. Thou, before whom my heart hath often broken, The incense that smokes every where receive ! It is the only one that earth can give : When sullied is the altar, Holy Lord ! No incense there but sorrow can be poured. 303 FHOM THE ITALIAN. THE DEATH OF CLOKINDA. From "La Gerusalemme Liberata," Canto 12th. Tasso. Tancred is deeply in love with Clorinda, a beautiful maiden and an heroic leaderin the pagan host, but she is indifferent to him. After a fierce conflict between the two armies, he and Clorinda are separated from the rest, but he does not recognize her, as in expectaiion of a tremendous struggle she wears a simple black coat of mail, instead of the splendid armour by which she was generally distinguished. A desperate and protracted combat ensues, ia which she is fatally wounded. 64 But now at last the fatal hour arrives, Which to its end Clorinda's life must bring. Into her bosom fair the sword he drives So that it deeply drinks the vital spring : The robe of gold embroidery it rives, That tenderly her breast encompassing, With a warm stream is filled. Death's stroke she feels, Her foot now fails, and faintness o'er her steals. 304 FEOM THE ITALIAN. 65 He follows up the victory ; the Maid, With death- wound pierced, he threatening pressed upon. She, as she fell, in mournful accents said Her latest words ere speech and life were gone. Words which a Spirit new to her now shed Within her heart, of faith, hope, love — alone. By God infused — If in life rebel. He Wills that in death she should His handmaid be. 66 " Friend thou hast conquered : I forgive, forgive Thou too my Soul, and not this mortal clay, That nothing fears : Oh ! pray for me, and give Me Baptism, to wash my sins away." The accents of those soft entreaties leave Sad, tender feelings that no words can say And as she pleads, her voice his wrath subdues, Winds to his heart, and tears his eyes suffuse. THE DEATH OF CLOEINDA. 305 67 Not far, from source within a neighbouring hill, A murmuring streamlet flowed within his sight. He went in haste his helmet there to fill, And sad returned unto the holy rite. His hand was trembling, while the face, that still Had been concealed, he freed from vizor bright. He saw and knew : movement nor voice remained : — sight ! knowledge ! that too late he gained. 68 He died not ; — gathering his power he lives. And guards his failing heart with strength restored. And, stifling anguish, life by water gives To her, whose death was given by his sword. She gently smiles, and holy joy receives, As he repeats aloud each sacred word, And seems, with spirit joyful at release, To say ; Heaven opens, I depart in peace. 306 FEOM THE ITALIAN. 69 A lovely paleness o'er her face lias spread, E'en so would violets and lilies blend : Her eyes fix on the heavens above her head, The sun and heavens a pitying aspect bend ; To Tancred, as a pledge of peace instead Of words, her cold fair hand she does extend. And thus, in act which pardon still imparts. Appears but sleeping, while her life departs. SONNETS. 307 BEFOKE THE DEATH OF LAURA. CLXXXIV. Peteaech. — ♦ — Whence did Love take the gold, from what rich vein, To form two shining tresses ? Tender, fair, The snow, now breathing life, whence did he bear, And mid what thorns the blushing roses gain ? Where sought the pearls, whose bordering rows restrain Sweet gentle words, the Pilgrims of the air ? Whence all those living beauties, charmed from care. That brow adorning, more than heaven serene ? Moved by what Angels, from what sphere of light That song celestial which dissolves my heart ? Those lovely eyes, soul-lit and proudly bright, Which in my bosonj peace or war inspire, What Sun their r^dian^t lustre could impart ? They freeze my heart to ice, or melt in fire. 308 FROM THE ITALIAN. AFTER THE DEATH OF LAURA. II. A lament on the death of Cardinal Colonna and Madonna Laura, which occurred in 1348, from the Pestilence that spread over Europe. Petrarch. The lofty Column and tlie Laurel green, That sheltered me in weary thought are gone : I never hope to find what they have been, From Pole to Pole, throughout each circling zone. Death, thou hast seized my treasures for thine own, They were my pride, and made it joy to live ; They were what neither gold, nor eastern stone, Nor empire of the earth to me can give. But yet if Destiny to this consent. What can I but my soul to sorrow how, "With tearful eyes and face in sadness bent ? Life, that show'st so fair unto our sight. How dost thou lose, in but a morning's flight. What many years of toil and care bestow ! SONNETS. 309 AFTEK THE DEATH OF LAURA, XVIIl. Petearch. The gentle air of sighs which reach mine ear From her, who was my own, and is ahove, But seems to me as if she still were here, To live, and feel, and move, and breathe and love — if I conld all this in words convey. What thoughts would rise ! she comes with holy fear. And watches lest I weary on my way. Or back return, or to the left draw near : She shows the path of Virtue high and straight ; Her prayers and chaste persuasions I obey, And soft reproofs low and compassionate. That as she pleases, bend my Soul, and sway ; Such gentleness impart those accents dear. Which e'en from rocks and stones might force a tear. 310 FEOM THE ITALIAN. AFTER THE DEATH OF LAURA. XXI. Petrarch — ♦ — Beyond the faii^est, fair ; my blessed Light, Who in such friendship sweet lived here with Heaven, Too soon for me back to her home was given, And to her star, that like herself is bright. Now I begin to wake me, and I know She for the best with my desires hath striven ; And the hot will by which my youth was driven She tempered with a soft reproving brow. I thank her, and her lofty counsel prize. Who with soft anger and sweet loveliness To my salvation tm'ned me ardently. lovely arts, and worthy their success. One with the tongue, the other with the eyes ; 1 gave her glory, virtue she gave me ! SONNETS. 311 AFTER THE DEATH OF LAURA. XXIV. Peteakch. The eyes of which so fervently I spoke, The arms, the hands, the feet, the lovely face. That made me separate from all my race, And ties, which to myself had bound me, broke ; The crisped locks of gold upon her brow. The lightning-flash of that angelic smile Which made of earth a paradise the while, A little dust, that nothing feels, are now : And I yet live, which grieves and angers me, AVithout the light I held so dear, alone In a dismantled ship, and tempest-tost. Then let my song of love here ended be : The stream of my exhausted mind is gone. The music of my lyre in weeping lost. 312 FROM THE ITALIAN. AFTER THE DEATH OF LAURA. XXXIV. Petrauch. I, by my tliouglit, was raised unto the place Where she is, whom I seek and find not here : Less proud I saw her and with lovelier grace, Mid those who are enclosed by Heaven's third sphere. She took my hand and said : " Here thou wilt be, If I am not by wishes led astray ; I am the One who caused such strife to thee, And ere Life's evening I had closed my day. My joy thou know'st not, Mortal cannot know ; I wait thee only, and what thou hast loved. My beauteous veil, which yet remains below." Why was she silent, why her hand removed ? For when those accents to mine ear were given, I almost stayed with her I loved in Heaven. e. p. K. SONNETS. 313 AFTER THE DEATH OF LAURA, XLIV. Petrakch. — ♦ — Nor course of planets through the heavens serene, Nor ships prepared in tranquil seas to glide, Nor armed knights o'er open plains that ride, Nor sportive creatures wild in sylvan scene, Nor fresh good news that waited long hath been, Nor lofty style, to love's sweet moods allied, Nor virtuous ladies fair at summer tide, Singing mid fountains clear and meadows green. Nor aught can ever with delight surprise My heart ; which buried with her doth remain. Who was the Kght and mirror of mine eyes. With this long weary life I am oppressed So much, that for its end I pray, again To see her, whom to have ne'er seen were best. 314 FROM THE ITALIAN. AFTER THE DEATH OF LAURA. LXXXV. Petrarch. For twenty years and one I had been kept Joyful by Love in fire, and hope was given In grief : then Laura and my heart to Heaven Arose together, and ten years I wept, I now am weary, and my Mfe 1 see, Reproving, for the seed of virtuous power Is nigh extinct ; and I, great God, restore Devoutly my remaining time to Thee. Sad and repenting o'er my wasted days That for a better use should have been spent In seeking peace, and shunning hurtful ways. Lord, who dost keep me in imprisonment, Safe from eternal woes release me now. For I both know my error, and avow. SONNETS. 315 AFTER THE DEATH OF LAURA. LXXXVI. Peteaech. I linger weeping o'er tlie moments gone, The time I spent upon a mortal love. Nor rose in flight, though I had wings to prove, And loftier example might have shewn. Thou, who dost see my impious, worthless heart, Invisible, immortal King of Heaven, Give help to a frail wandering soul, and even From thine own fulness to her need impart. So, if I did in war and tempest live, I may in peace and shelter die ; if vain My sojourn, let my parting righteous be. To the few days of life which still remain. And to my death, may thy hand succour give. Thou knowest well I only hope in Thee. 316 TO THE CHAMBER OF PETRARCH. Alfieri. little chamber ! wMcli didst once enclose That great one, for whose fame the world's wide bound Is narrow space, Master of love profound To whom on earth such honour Laura owes : happy lone abode of thought's repose, Thought sweetly sad, alas, what bitter tears Bathe my grieved bosom that the course of years To thee no grateful honoui's should disclose ! All precious things, gold, agate, jasper, shine With brightness due, yet hardly worthy so To honour what dwelt mid these walls of thine. But nay : 'tis weU to deck a monarch's shrine ; Place brilliant gems where laurels will not grow ; Here but the name of genius so divine. 317 OPPORTUNITY. Machiavelli. — ♦ — " Who art thou ? for not haortal canst thou be, With so much grace doth Heaven thy form endue, Why never rest ? on winged feet why flee ? " " My name is Opportunity, my face Observed by few, I labom* from the need To keep one foot upon a wheel. A race, Unequalled e'en by flying, is my speed ; I the light wings upon my feet maintain To dazzle those who of my course take heed. My scattered locks before me I restrain. And with them are my breast and face o'erspread, That none of my approach may knowledge gain! 318 FEOM THE ITALIAN. Behind is every tress shorn off my head ; Hence all have disappointed been who tried To stay my course when from them I have fled." " Now let me know who she is by thy side ? " ^' Repentance, — therefore to my words attend ; "With those who seize me not she will abide. And thou who, thus in speaMng, time dost spend, Engaged with the vain thoughts which thee beguile, Alas ! dost thou not see and apprehend How from thy hands I havfe escaped the while ? " 319 SONNET COMPOSED DURING AN ACUTE ILLNESS. Tansillo, Dread Night, with tresses hlack, enclosed heneath The veil of humid darkness, who from earth Arising, spoilest of delight and mirth The world, and clothest it in hues of death ; I, vexed and iU, who blame thy cold delays And my own burning fever equally, If for one course of thine Sleep came to me And closed mine eyes, how should I give thee praise ! Then I should say, that thou com'st forth, from Heaven, That starry crowns of thine the world adorn, That, calling unto rest, by thee 'tis given, And joy and revelry by thee are borne ; Such flattering things,_^0 Night, to thee I'd say, That pale with envy should become the Day. 320 KEMOESE. FiLICAJA. Nor tiger whose eye breathes terrific fire ; Nor serpent hidden under burning skies, Who, poised erect, with rage and hisses dire. Vibrates as his own breast he stings, and dies ; Nor thunderbolt, that loud the mountain rends, Such terror deals — Nor proud impetuous force Of stream that o'er its broken banks descends. Deserts its bed, and takes a wandering course, Inspires such fear unto the scattered herd Or timid ploughman, as to me Remorse, When I my guilt and naked conscience see. Nor vengeful Fury so to pity seared Dwells in th' abyss, but would less cruel be Than my internal cruel misery. 3' SONNETS. 321 THE TOMB OF CHAELEMAGNE. Maxara . ♦ — In this funereal Urn thine image trace human Pride ! All the hHud world hath sought. Its highest glory, this doth now embrace, So low was greatness by a moment brought. In regal crown and robe, seek with thy thought A monarch who hath prouder trophies won, On earth more feared, in peace and war who wrought A nobler fame by deeds illustrious done. Alas ! of aU this glory and this might. The fata] stroke but pallid bones hath left And a few cold gTey ashes to my sight : Of Empire, conquest, sceptre, crown, bereft, The king, the chief, a narrow grave contains, The Man alone before his God remains. 322 SONG OF THE GIPSY. Adele Curti. - — « — My face is dark and lovely too, Like to the dying day, As when a vapour softly shades The moon's transparent ray. My hair is of a deep, deep Mack, Like fruit of laurel tree, IMine eyes are gentle yet austere, As love's own charms might be. I fi'om a Fairy had my birth, Her element was fire. And one who o'er Granada reigned Loved her, and was mv Sire. SONG OF THE GIPSY. 323 My food hath been the morning dew, My cradle flowers fair ; I for my robe of splendour wore A cloud of lightness rare. I walked on Ether's calm blue sea Through Infinite afar, And with the joyful Zephyr went To hail my own bright star. With flattering smile she fondly looked On me, that star of mine ; Hers is the purest flame of all That in the heavens shine. The desert plains of arid sand My traces often show, And they are left on mountain height Amid eternal snow. 324 FROM THE ITALIAN. Spirits unknown a power gave To me in earth and sky, A power of peace as well as war, That whirlwinds can defy. When dawn makes rosy the pure air Of gently opening day, I fly rejoicing in the midst Of that so blessed ray. Thence I descend and questions ask Of pallid shades beneath. And in the horror of the grave Sad phantoms raise of death. I seek for the verbena plant. Sacred to mystery. The magic herb for grief concealed, And thoughts of secrecy. SONG- OF THE GIPSY. 325 In the events of future life I read joy, anger, pain, And the veiled book of what is past To all I can explain. Philters I give, bear friendship's vows, And vows of faithful love ; Justice is mine for the oppressed, Who scoffs and insult prove. I have a proud and burning heart, A love unequalled, deep, A hatred too, immense and fierce, — A dagger's blade I keep ! 326 PLACK EYES AND BLUE. Bertola. Contention rose for Beauty's prize. Claimed both by black and azure eyes. — " Scornful and proud black eyes appear." — " But azure eyes are not sincere." — " Black is a mournful, gloomy hue." — ■•' Inconstant are the eyes of blue." — '-' We picture heaven visibly." — •' Torches beneath a veil are we." — " In Juno azure eyes are seen." — '•'- And dark brown eyes hath Cyprus' Queen. More argument had yet been heard, But now between them Love appeared, BLACK EYES AND BLUE. 327 And his decision in the cause Still forms apart of Cnidiis' laws ; For, by a faithful Shepherd's care, These words remain engraven there : The rightful claim to Beauty's prize No colour can impart, But ever loveliest are those eyes Which answer to the heart. 328 FROM THE SPANISH. FLOWEES. ( With some omissions.) Juan Melendez Valdes. Delightful flowers, to being rise, Adorn the soil that barren lies. And lately 'neath the sceptre wept Of winter, who stern empire kept. Rich Nature will lier varied hues Over your bosoms fresh diffuse. May laughs, and Zephyr, with caress. Already woos your loveliness, And frees the struggling bud from clasps that rudely press. FLOWEES. 329 0, Soul of Flora, venture here ! Daughters of Spring, appear, appear ! Your virgin chalice open leave, Aurora's pearly tears receive. ■ A sovereign perfume fills the air ; The amber fragrance that we breathe Is given by the plain beneath ; In infinite profusion there Your colours court the admiring sight : No painter ever gave those colours bright. To form you. Art and Nature joined, And in your charms are both combined. Alas ! how soon declines your fair estate, True image of Man's fate ! But, if the summer's fervent glow Must dim your beauty gay. From shadowy sepulchre below Deliverance will come with May, And you are born anew to reign. Jasmine ! thus thy living snow Will soon return again, 330 FEOM THE SPANISH, And tliou amid thy branches gi'een wilt sHne, And with sweet fragrance call The youthful maidens all, Thy flowers to pluck, and round their temples twine. In purple the Dianthus dyed, On flexile stem her form uprears. Unveils her beauty in its pride, And in her globe of fire appears. As though for Flora and for Love a throne : Till placed upon some snowy breast, Withered and sad, her head deprest, The circle of her fall-leaved pomp shrinks, and is gone. The Violet in valley lost Her beauty timidly conceals. But murmuring Air her fragTance brings. With it imbues his errant wings. And, where her beauty lies, reveals. The Tulip, deemed our garden's boast, Lifts up his head with proud sm'prise Mid common flowers that round him rise : A thousand showy zones he bears FLOWEES. 331 And gorgeous Tyrian hues he wears, That broider his gay livery. Alas ! that Flora perfume should deny ! Thou virgin flower, whom robes of snow With innocence enfold, And in whose fretted calyx glow Pure gems of orient gold ; With coronal where sunbeams rest, Eich incense breathing, love-carest. While butterflies around thee play. And in fond circles wing their way — Lily, thine would empire be. But for the Rose, which still surpasses thee ! While yet her fleeting beauties stay, They open to the opening day, As, bathed in purple dew, She raises up her bloom of matchless hue. Apollo kindles her with flame benign ; And, Cytherea, the bright blood was thine, Which her pale beauty in pure crimson dyed, Left by thy steps when wounded by a thorn, 332 FEOM THE SPANISH. While hastening to thy dear Adonis's side, Who was from life in that sad moment torn. Gathered by Love in Cnidus' bower, The Rose, his chosen flower. That garland formed, enwreathed on Psyche's head, . And o'er her nuptial couch soft fragrance shed. Hail, Eose ! the Queen of Flowers and charm of May, The treasure given by Aurora's tears ! Go, meet my Shepherdess who now appears, And humbly to her beauty homage pay. SOKNETS. 333 ON DELIVERANCE FROM A VIOLENT DEATH. LUPERCIO DE ARGENSOLA.. The grief, the anguish which my heart opprest, Even in the hand of barbarous violence Averted from me the sharp knife ; suspense Was over, wrath by clemency represt. Oh who hath ever diamond shield possest Which could oppose so firmly all offence As the pure soul of guileless innocence, Which to the victor offers the bare breast ? I saw, I saw the eyes, it is no lie. That menaced death, with gentleness upon My features gazing, view my misery ; And holy pity then appear alone, All clouds dispersing from their tranquil sky ; For all is easy that in faith is done. 334 FROM THE SPANISH. FATHEK OF ALL. Bartolome de Argensola, " Father of all, oh say, since Thou art just. Why give permission by thy Providence That Fraud should drag to prison Linocence And thus ascend the judgment-seat august ? Who renders strong the vigorous arm, robust In opposition to thy laws ? and whence Comes it that he who yields them reverence Before the unrighteous victor groans in dust ? We see base hands wave the victorious palm. And Virtue groan at joyful triumphs, led By unjust men, whom no restraint controls." I spoke thus, when aj)peared to me a calm And smiling Angel, who unto me said " Blind one, is earth the centre then of Souls ?" 335 FROM THE PORTUGUESE. OF CATHARINA DE ATAIDE. XXXIV. Camoens. When the sun, covered by a cloudy sky, Shews of his splendour but a doubtful trace, Along a green delightful shore I pace, Imagining my beauteous enemy. Here was she ordering her hair, I sigh. There leaning on her hand her lovely face ; Now still, now walking, ever with fresh grace ; Here speaking gaily, and there thoughtfully. Here was she seated, there on me she cast Those eyes from evil pure ; here feeling showed, There unconcern. Thus, varying in her mood. Here was she sad, there laughed : and so at last. Amid these weary thoughts on her bestowed, I pass this life, that never will be past. 336 FEOM THE POETUGUESE. CATHAEINA DE ATAIDE. XXXY. Camoens. A movement of the eyes soft * charming, kind, And, hardly knowing why, compassionate ; A gentle smile and chaste, as by the mind Almost enforced ; an aspect lowly, sweet, Doubtful of any joy ; a bashful au' ; A look of goodness pure that token shows Of gTacious soul, so limpid and so fair ; A modest and a very grave repose ; A fear though not in fault, an aii' serene ; A timid daring, a soft gentleness ; A long, obedient patience ; this hath wrought The heavenly beauty in my Circe seen, The elixk magical, which could no less Than poisoned di^aught transform my very thought. SONNETS. 337 TO CATHATtlNA DE ATATDE. xc. Camoens. The perfectness, the grace in you exprest, The gesture sweet, the Spring with freshness fraught, Which in you ever blooms ; these charms have wrought The reasonable thraldom of my breast ; That aspect crystalline and pure, where best Is seen all loveliness combined ; eyes sought By Love, whence he to all his laws hath taught, Whose splendour yet by softness is represt ; If what I gaze upon thy mind desires To view, worthy indeed thyself to see, Although evading still to prove Love's fires ; So truly shall my heart reflect to thee All which within my being thine inspires. That what I feel, e'en thou shalt feel with me. 338 FROM THE PORTUGUESE. ON CATHARINA DE ATAIDE, AFTER HER DEATH. CLXXXVI. Camoens. — ♦ — The eyes whence chaste Love once did purely glow. Joyous himself there kindled to behold ; The face, where brightly blooming did unfold The crimson rose, most lustrous over snow ; The hair, of which the sun might envious grow, Because his seemed of a less radiant gold ; The graceful form and the white hand, to cold Unfeeling earth reduced, in earth lie low ! That perfect loveliness in tender years, Like prematurely gathered fragile flower, The cruel hand of Death too soon did blight ; How came it, Love died not that very hour ? Pitying, not her, removed to brighter spheres, But his own self, remaining in dark night. THE END. NOTES TO TBANSLATIONS NOTES TO TRANSLATIONS. NOTE I. Valhalla — the hall of Odin, where the souls of departed warriors were received. Odin — All-Father ; the Scandinavian Jupiter. Thor — the Scandinavian Hercules. Frey — the Sun God. Balder — the White God; the god of peace and war, and light and summer. Frigga — Odin's wife, and the chief goddess. Fret A — the Scandinavian Venus ; goddess of beauty. Iduna — Goddess of youth, or Scandinavian Hebe. Gerda — Daughter of a giant. Her father was Gynir. She represented revivifying power, as in Spring. Nanna — Daughter of Neps, and wife of Balder. She died of grief at Balder's death. Hela — (Swed. Hel) — the goddess of the under-world, originally considered as dispensing not only death, but life ; the mysterious goddess of the earth, who being the distributer of blessings and fruitfulness, did not act as a destroyer in receiving the dead back to her maternal bosom. In later times the fear of death attached ideas of horror to her, and her ancient attributes disappeared, NoRNIR — the Fates, of whom the three principal were Urda, Verdandi, and Skuld, i,e., Past, Present, and Future. NOTES. The Asa or tEsir — Odin and Hs descendants, men as well as gods. Havamal — an Eddaic poem, forming of itself a tolerably complete code of Odinic morality. NOTE II. The Neck — a water spirit. The two poems of Miss Bremer's which follow " The Water Lily," are taken from a German translation of " The President's Daughters," and I have not been able to procure the original Swedish in time to test their correctness. I may however find no reason to alter them when I have the opportunity of comparing them with the original. NOTE III. The Ideal. The first line of Mr. Merivale's translation and of mine are the same, both being word for word the literal rendering of the German. '• So willst du treulos von mir scheiden" " Thus wilt thou, faithless, from me sever" And this identity of expression occurs again in The Sharing of the Earth. " Ich war, sprach der Poet, bei dir." " I was, the Poet said, with thee." ,i1^ "^n^ ^^•^^. .^^ V* LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 014 525 256 8