C F GOLD AND OTHER POEMS C L OTH MIl~. DL1iICH'S WRlITIGS. I. MARJORIE DAW AND OTHER PEOPLE. In paper, $i.00. Cloth, $I.50. II. THE STORY OF A BAD BOY. In cloth, $1.50. III. PRUDENCE PALFREY. In paper, $1.00. Cloth, $ t.5o. IV. CLOTH OF GOLD AND OTHER POEMS. Ill Cloth, $1.50. JAMES R. OSGOOD & CO., PUBLISHERS. THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH CLOTH OF GOLD AND OTHER POEMS Cloth of Gold Friar Jerome's Beautiful Book Interludes Baby Bell and Other Poems . Judith Sonnets BOSTON JAMES R. OSGOOD AND COMPANY Late Ticknor & Fields, and Fields, Osgood, & Co. 1875 .... I Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1873, BY JAMES R. OSGOOD & CO., in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. UNIVERSITY PRESS: WELCH, BIGELOW, & CO., CAMBRIDGE. /' I < /L; /, I 7g-w / z U/ i-:w>M y / K THIs volume includes all the poems which the author cares to retain of the edition published by Messrs. Ticknor and Fields in 1865. CAMBRIDGE, MASS., 1874. CONTENTS. I. CLOTH OF GOLD. PAGE , 13 14 . 16 17 . 19 20 . 22 24 . 25 28 . 30 32 PRELUDE.. THE CRESCENT AND THE CROSS. THE SHEIK'S WXELCOME THE UNFORGIYEN. DRESSING THE BRIDE. Two SONGS FRIOM THE PERSIAN'.. TIGER-LILIES e... THE SULTANA..; AVIHEN THE SULTAN GOES TO ISPAHAN. IIASCHEESH. A PRELUDE..... A TURKISH LEGEND. II. FRIAR JEROMIE'S BEAUTIFUL BOOK, ETC. FRIAR JEROME'S BEAUTIFUL BOOK. THE LADY OF CASTELNORE. AMONTILLADO. .35 47 .52 CONTENTS. *. 56 58 . 60 III. INTERLUDES. THE FADED VIOLET. DEAD... THE LUNCH. BEFORE THE RAIN AFTER THE RAI.. WXEDDED.... THE BLUEBELLS OF NEW ENGLAND -NAMELESS PAIN.... AT TWO-AND-TWENTY GLAMNOURIE.. PALABRAS CARINOSAS . 65 67 . 68 69 . 70 71 . 72 74 . 75 76 . 78 80 . 82 83 . 85 87 . 88 IV. BABY BELL AND OTHER POEMS. BABY BELL. PISCATAQUA RIVER THE TRAGEDY. viii C-KSTLES. I —,-GRATITL'DE. DECEMBER SONG. '\I "Y. LYRICS. IIESPERIDES 11 POE. EPILOGUE . 91 97 . 99 CONTENTS. IIAUN-TED PA3IPINA. LAMIAi.. INVOCATION TO SLEEP SEADRIFT THIE QUEEN'S RIDE. I-N THE OLD CHURCH TOWER. THE AIETEMPS'YCHOSIS V. JUDITH. I. JUDITH IN THE TOWER. II. THE CAMP OF ASSUR. III. THE FLIGHT. VI. SONNETS. EUTERPE.... AT BAY RIDGE, L. I.. PURSUIT AND POSSESSION EGY-.PT.. . 177 178 . 179 180 . 181 182 183 FREDERICKSBIURG BY THE POTO0IAC. L' ENVOI. ix . 103 105 . 110 112 . 115 118 . 121 123 . 131 145 . 159 -Nlllt,,kCLIES 184 I. CLOTH OF GOLD. CLOTH OF GOLD. PRELUDE. OU ask us if by rule or no Our many-colored songs are wroughit? Upon the cunning, loom of tlloug'llit, We weave our fancies, so and so. The busy shuttle comes and goes Across the rhymes, and deftly weaves A tissue out of autumn leaves, Withl here a thistle, there a rose. WAith art and patience thus is made The poet's perfect Clothl of Gold: WAhen woven so, nor moth nor mould Nor time can make its colors fade. CLOTH OF GOLD. THE CRESCENT ANND THiE CROSS. KIND was my friend who, in the Eastern land, Remenmbered me with suchl a gracious han(d, And sent this M\oorishl Crescent which has beenci WAorn on the hatug,hty bosoml of a queen. No more it sinkls and riscs in unrest To thelc soft music of ler hcathlecn breast; t No barbarous chicf shlall bow before it more, No turbaned slave shlall envy and adorc. I place beside this relic of tle Sun A Cross of Cedar broilght fromi Lebanon, Once borne, perchance, by some pale mionk who tro(I The deesert to Jerusalem,- and his God! tIere do thlev lie, two sylbols of two creeds, Eachl meaning somiethling to our Ihuman needs, 14 TIlE CRESCENT AND TIIE CROSS. Bothl stained with blood, and sacred made by faith, By tears, and prayers, and martvrdomi, and death. That for the MIoslem is, but this for me! The waninig Crescent lacks divinity: It gives me dreams of battles, and the woes Of vwomen shut ill dim seraglios. But wheni this Cross of simple w-ood( I see, Thle Star of Bethlelei shinies again for mne, And glorious visions break Ipoi iiiy gloom, The patient Christ, andl Marv at thle ToIib! 15 CLOTH OF GOLD. THE SHEIK'S WELCOME. ECAUSE thou com'st, a weary guest, Unto my tenlt, I bid thee rest. This cruse of oil, this skin of wine, These tamarinds and dates are thine; And while thou eatest, Medjid, there, Shall bathe the heated nostrils of thy marc. Illah il' Allah! Even so An Arab chieftain treats a foe, Holds him as one without a fault Who breaks his bread and tastes his salt; And, in fair battle, strikes him dead With the same pleasure that he gives him bread(! 16 THE UNFORGIVEN. THE UNFORGIVEN. EAR my bed, there, hangs the picture jewels could not buy from me: 'T is a Siren, a brown Siren, in her sea-weed drapery, Playing on a lutte of amber, by the margin of a sea. In the east, the rose of morning seems as if't would blossom soon, But it never, never blossoms, in this picture; and the moon Never ceases to be crescent, and the June is always June. And the heavy-branched banana never yields its creamv fruit; In the citron-trees are nilghtingales forever stricken mute; And the Siren sits, her fingers on the pulses of the lute. 11 17 18 CLOTII OF GOLD. In the hushes of the midnight, when the heliotropes grow strong With the dampness, I hear m1usic, -hear a quiet, plain-tive soig,, A most sad, mclodious utterance, as of somc iimmortal wrong, - Like the pleading, oft repeated, of a Soul that pleads in vain, Of a damn(d Soul repentant, that would faiii bc l)tec agaill!And I lie awake and listen to the music of her p1ain. And whence comes this mournful music? - whene, un less it chance to be From the Sirein, the brown Siren, in her sca-wccd drapery, Playing on a lute of amber, by the marg,in of a sea. ,:. I DRESSING THE BRIDE. DRESSING THE BRIDE. A FRAGMENT. S0, after bath, the slave-girls brought The broi(ldered raiment for her wear, The miisty izar from Mlosul, The pearls and opals for her hair, The slippers for her supple feet, (Two radiant crescelLitN moons they were,) And lavender, and spikenard swveet, And attars, nedd, and richest musk. When thley had finished dressiing her, (The eye of morn, the heart's desire!) Like one pale star against the dusk, A single diamond on her brow Trembled with its imprisolled fire 19 CLOTH OF GOLD. TWO SONGS FROM THE PERSIAN. I. CEASE, sweet music, let us rest! Too soon the hateful light is born: Henceforth let day be counted night, And midnight called the morn. O cease, sweet music, let us rest! A tearful, languid spirit lies, Like the dim scent in violets, In beauty's gentle eyes. There is a sadness in sw-veet sound That quickens tears. O music, lest We weep with thy strange sorrow, cease! Be still, and let us rest. 20 TWO SONGS FROM THE PERSIAN. II. Ah! sad are they who know not love, But, far from passion's tears and smiles, Drift down a moonless sea, beyond The silvery coasts of fairy isles. And sadder they whose longing lips Kiss empty air, and never touch The dear warm mouth of those they love, WVaiting, wasting, suffering much. But clear as amber, fine as musk, Is life to those who, pilgrim-wise, Mlove hand in hand from dawn to dusk, Each morning nearer Paradise. 0, not for them shall angels pray! They stand in everlasting light, Thev walk in Allah's smile by day, And nestle in his heart by night. 21 CLOTIH OF GOLD. TIGER-LILIES. I LIKE not lady-slippers, Nor yet thle sweet-pea blossoms, Nor yet the flaky roses, Red, or white as snow; I like the chaliced lilies, The hleavy Eastern lilies, The gorg,eous tiger-lilies, That in our gardeii grow! For thlev are tall and slender Their mouths are dashed with carminie And when the wind sweeps by them, On their emerald stalks They bend so proud and gracefld, Thley are Circassian women, The favorites of the Sultan, Adown our garden walks! 22 TIGER-LILIES. And when the rain is falling, I sit beside the window And watch them glow and glisten, How they burn and glow O for the burnting lilies, The tender Eastern lilies, The gorgeous tiger-lilies, That in our garden grow! 23 CLOTII OF GOLD. THE SULTANA. N the draperies' pultle gloom, Iii thle gilded clamber shle stands, I catch a glimpse of' hler bosom's bloom, And thlle white of hler jewelled(l hiands. Eachl wandering wind that blows By- the lattice, seems to )bear Fromi her parted lips the sc(nt of the rose, And the jasmine fromn her hair. Her dark-browed( odalisqtes lean To the fontitaini's feathlerv rain, And a paroqliet, by the r)oidered screen, Dangles its silverv chlain. But pallid, luminous, cold, Like a phantom she fills the place, Sick to the heart, in that cage of gold, WVith her sumptuous disgrace! 24 4 WHEN THE SULTAN GOES TO ISPAHAN. WJHTEN THE SULTAN GOES TO ISPAIHAN. H EN tte S<alt S$lat-Za;nan Goes to t,e city I.spakait, Even before lie gets so far As the place where the clustered palmn-trees are, At the last of the thlirty palace-gates, The flower of the harem, Rose-in-Bloomi, Orders a feast ill his favorite room, Glittering, squares of colored ice, Sweetened with syrop, tincttired( with spice, Creams, and cordials, and sngared dates, Syrian apples, Otlihmanee quinlces, Limes, and citrons, and apricots, And wines that are known to Eastern princes And Nul)ian slaves, with smokingi pots Of spiced meats and costliest fish And all that the curious palate could wish, Pass in and out of the cedarn doors; 2 23 CLOTH OF GOLD. Scattered over mosaic floors Are anlemoies, imyrtles, aid violets, And a musical fotuntaiii throws its jets Of a hundred colors ijto the air. The dusk Sultanla loosens her hair, And staiiis with the lhenna-plant the tips Of her poinrted iiails, and bites her lips Till they bloomi again; but, alas, that rose Not for the Sfltanl buds andi blows! Not for the Stiltla; Shahl-Zaiizai ftf7eit he goes to the city IJ8)ahlai. Then at a wave of her sunny hand, The dancing-girls of Samarcand Glide in like shapes from fairy-land, Mlaking a sudden nist in air Of fleecy veils and floating hair And white arms lifted. Orient bl)ood Runs in their veins, shines in their eves. And there, in this Eastern Paradise, Filled with the breath of sandal-wood, And Khloten musk, and aloes and myrrh, Sits Rose-in-Bloom on a silk divan, 26 W'IIEN TIIE SULTAN GOES TO ISPAHAN. Sippiig thle wines of Astrakhan; And her Alab lover sits with her. 7'Tat'8s w'eit tIe Sieltat Stak-Zaman Goes to the city I8)aIau. Now, whlen I see an extra light, Flaming', flickeriing on thlle nig,ht Froia my neighbor's casement opposite, I know as well as I know to pray, I know as well as a ton,gue can say, T/a(It thie iib)oce)it Siltait Slhah-Zaman Ilas goule to tIe city Ispahan. 27 CLOTil OF GOLD. HASCHEESH. I. TRICKEN with dreams, I wandered throiugh the night; The heavens leaned down to me with splendi(d fircs; The south-wind breathinig upon unseen l yres Aadle muLsic as I went; and to my sight A Palace shaped itself agaiast the skies: Great sapphlire-stu(Ldde(d portals sudd(enly Opened on vast Ionic galleries Of gold and porplhyry, and I could see, ThlroLughl half-drawn curtains that let in the day, Dim tropic gar(ldens stretching far away. II. Ah! what a wonder fell upon my souil, WVhen from that structure of the upper airs 28 HASCIIEESII. I saw unfold a flight of crystal stairs For my ascending......Then I heard the roll Of unseen oceans clashling at thle Pole..... A terror seized upon me.... a vague sense Of near calamity. " 0, lead me hence!" I shrieked, and lo! from out a darkling hlole That opened at my feet, crawled after me, -p the broad staircase, creatures of huge size, Fanged, warty monsters, with their lips and eyes IHunng with slim leechles sucking hungrily. Away, vile drug! I will avoid thy spell, Honey of Paradise, black dew of Hell! 29 CLOTH OF GOLD. A PRELUDE. ASSAN BEN ABDUL at the Ivory Gate Of Bagdad sat and chattered ill the sun, Like any magpie chattered to himself And four lank, swarthy Arab boys that stopt A gambling game with peach-pits, and drew near. Then Iman Khan, the friend of thirsty souls, The seller of pure water, ceased his cry, And placed his water-skins against the gate, They looked so like him, with their sallow cheeks Puffed out like Iman's. Then a eunuch came And swung a pack of sweetmeats fromn his head, And stood, a hideous pagan cut in jet. And then a Jew, whose sandal-straps were red WVith desert-dust, limped, cringing, to the crowd, He, too, would listen; and close after him A jeweller that glittered like his shop. Then two blind mendicants, who wvishled to go 30 A PRELUDE. Six diverse ways at once, came stumibling by, But hlearing Hassan chatter, sat them down. And if the Khaleef had been riding near, He would have paused to listen like the rest, For Hassan's famie was ripe in all the East. From whlite-walled Cairo to far Ispahlan, From ilecca to Damascus, he was known, Hassan, the Arab with the Singing Heart. His songs were sung by boatmen on the Nile, By Beddowee maidens, and in Tartar camps, While all nien loved him as they loved their eyes And when he spake, the wisest, next to him, Was he who listened. And thus Hassan sung. And I, a stranger, lingering, in Bagdad, Half English and half Arab, by my beard! Caught at the gilded epic as it grew, iAnd for my Christian brothers wrote it down. 31 CLOTH OF GOLD. A TlURKISH LEGEND. CEI{TAIN Pasha, dead five thousand ycars, Once from his harem ftle ill sudden tears, And had this sentence on the city's gate Deeply eng,l-aven, "Only God is great." So these four wvords above the city's noise Hung like the accents of an angel's voice, And evermore, from the hih barbacan, Saluted each returning, caravan. Lost is that city's glo1y. Every gust Lifts, with crisp leaves, the unknown Pashla's dust. And all is ruin,- save one wrinkled gate Whereon is written, " Only God is great." 3 II. FRIAR JEROMIE'S BEAUTIFUL BOOK, ETC. 2 * c FRIAR JEROME'S BEAUTIFUL BOOK, ETC. FRIAR JEROME'S BEA!UTIFUL BOOK. A. D. 1200. THE Friar Jerome, for some slight sill, Done in his youth, was struck with woe. "When I am dead," quotli Friar Jerome, "Surely, I think my soul will go Shuddering throu,gh the darkened spheres, Doiwn to eternal fires below! I shall not dare from that dread place To lift mine eyes to Jesus' face, Nor AIarv's, as she sits adored At the feet of Christ the Lord. Alas! December's all too brief For me to hope to wipe away The memory of my sinful MIay!" 36 FlRIAR JEROME'S BEAUTIFUL BOOK. And Friar Jerome was fUll of grief That April eveniing, as he lay On the straw pallet in his cell. He scarcely heard the curfew-bell Calling the brotherhood to prayer; But he arose, for't was his care Nightly to feed the hnungry poor That crowded to the Convent door. His choicest duty it had been: But this one night it weig,hIed him down. "What work for an immortal soul, To feed and clothe some lazy clown Is there no action worth my mood, No deed of daring, high and plule, That shall, when I am dead, endure, A well-spring of perpetual good? And straight lie thought of those great tomes WAith clamps of gold, -the Convent's boast, How they endured, while kings and realms Past into darkness and were lost; How they had stood from ag,e to age, FRIARR JEROMNIE'S BEAUTIFUL BOOK. Clad in their yellow velluin-mail, 'Gainst iwhich the Payii's godless rag,e, The Yiandal's fire, could naugh,lt avail: Thol,h hleatlhen sword-blows fell like lail, Tionghl cities ran with Christian blood, Iimperisiable they had stood! TlIev (lid not seem like books to him, ]lgtt Heroes, MAartyrs, Saijts, - themselves The thing,s they told of, Inot mere books Ranged grimily on the oaken shelves. To those dim alcoves, falr withldrawn, tIe turned with measured steps and slow, Trimming his lantern as le went And there, among the shadows, bent Above one ponderous folio, W'ith whose miraculous text were blent Seraphic faces:,Angels, crowned AWithI ring,s of melting amethyst; AMute, patient Alartyrs, citielly bound To b)lazing fagots; here and there, Some bold, serene Evangelist, Or Alary inii her sunny hair; 3 7 38 Fll.FRIAR JEROMEI'S BEAUTIFUL BOOK. And here and there from out the words A brilliant tropic bird took flight; .And throug-h the miargins maiiy a vine WAent wandering, -roses, red aind whlite, Tulip, -winud-flower, and columbine Blossomed. To his believiing mind These tliiiig,s were real, and the wind, Blown throu,igh the mullioned window, took Scelt from the lilies in the book. "Santa ~Alaria! " cried Friar Jerome, "AWhatever man illuminiiied this, Thou,lgh he were steeped heart-deep in sin, WAas worthy of unending bliss, And no doubt hath it Ah! dear Lord, Iig'ht I so beautify Thy Word What sacristan, the convents through, Transcribes with such precision? who Does such initials as I do? Lo! I will gird me to this work, And save me, ere the one chance slips. On smooth, clean parchment I'11 eng,ross The Prophet's fell Apocalypse; FRI.ARt JEItOME'S BF,AUTIFUL BOOK. Aitd as I -write fromn day to day, Perlchance my sins will pass away." So Friar Jeromie began his Book. Fromi break of dawn till curfewv-chime Hie bent above the lengtheliiiiig page, Like some rapt poet o'er his rhyme. He scarcely paused to tell his beads, Except at nigiht; and then lie lay And tost, unrestftl, on the straw, Impatient for the comingli day, WAorking like one who feels, perchance, That, ere the longed-for goal be won, Ere Beauty bare her perfect breast, Black Deathl may pluck hlin from the sun. At intervals the busy brook, Turning the mill-wheel, catught his ear And throu,gh the grating of the cell He saw the honeysuckles peer, And knew't was summer, that the sheep In fragrant pastures lay asleep, And felt, that, somehow, God was near. In his green pulpit on the elm, 39 40 FRIAKR JEROME'S BEAUTIFUL BOOK. The robill, abbot of that wood, Held forth by times; and Friar Jerome Listened, and smiled, and nLuderstood. Wvhile summer wrapt the blissflLi land -What joy it was to labor so, To see the long-tressed Ailgels growv Beneath the cLunningi of his hand, Aig,nette and tail-piece subtly wroulght And little reeked he of the poor That missed him at the Convent door; Or, thinking of them, put the thought Aside. "I feed the souls of men Henceforth, and not their bodies "- yet Their sharp, pinched features, now and then, Stole in between him and his Book, And filled him with a vague regret. Now on that region fell a blight: The corn grew cankered in its sheath; And from the verdurous uplands rolled A sultry vapor fraught with death, A poisonous mist, that, like a pall, FIIAtit JlI1, 0'IS BE.AUTII-FUL BOOK. IItLIIg black and stagliant over all. Tl1CI catiIe thle sickniess, tlile malignili, G(reeii-spotted4 terror called the Pest, Thatt took tlhe ligt fiom loviu,g eyes, Vli( made the N}-oltn' l)ridc's g'c tlc 1breast -. fatal pillow. t1I! tllhe woe, Thle crilile(, tlhe mnadness that befell In one short ni,ght that valc becamie Alorc foul tlhan I)ante's inirost hell. Aten crst their wives; and mothers left Their nursing bab)es alone to die, A'nd wAnatoiied, silingiling, thlroongh the streets, AWithl sliameless brow and fienzied eye; And senseless clowvns, not feariing God, Snuchl power the spotted fever had,Razedl Cragwood Castle on1 the hill, Pillag,ed the w-ine-bins, and went mad. And evermore that dlreadful pall Of mist htng, stagnant over all By day, a sickly liglit broke throgli,h The heated fog, on town and field; By nighit, the moon, in anger, turned Against the earth its mottled shield. 41 42 F.FRIAR JEtOME'S BEAUTIFUL BOOK. Then from the Convent, two and two, Thle Prior clhanlting at their head, The imonks went forth to shlrive the sick, \iind give the hungry grave its dead, Only Jerome, lie went not forth, But lidiig il his dusty nook, Let comiie what will, I must illume The last ten pages of miy Book! He drew his stool before the desk, And sat him down, distraught and wan, To paint his daring masterpiece, The stately figure of Saint John. He sketched the head witlh pious care, Laid in the tint, when, powers of Grace! He found a grinning Death's-hlead there, And not the grand Apostle's face Then up he rose with one long cry 'T is Satan's self does this," cried hlie, Because I shut and barred my heart When Thou didst loudest call to me O Lord, Thou know'st the thoughits of men, Thou know'st that I did yearn to make FRIAR JElOME'S BEAUTIFUL BOOK. Thy WAord more lovely to the eyes Of sinful souls, for Christ his sake! Nathless, I leave the task undone: I give up all to follow Thlee, Even like him who gave his nets To winds and waves bv Galilee!" Which said, he closed the precious Book In silence, with a reverent hand; And drawing his cowl about his face Went forth into the Stricken Land. And there was joy in heaven that day,More joy o'er this forlorn old friar Than over fifty sinless men Who never struggled with desire What deeds he did in that dark town, What hearts he soothed with anguish torn, What weary ways of woe he trod, Are written in the Book of God, And shall be read at Judgment AIorn. The weeks crept on, when, one still day, God's awful presence filled the sky, 43 44 FRIA.t JEROMIE'S BEAUTIFUL BOOK. And tllat black vapor floated by, And lo! the sickness past awvay. AWitll silvery clang, by thlorpe and town, The bells made mierry in thlcir spi'res: O God! to think the Pest is flowi! 3len kissed.eachl other on thc street, And ninusic pipcd to datncing feet The livelong iiiglt, by roarilig fires Tlhen Friar Jeromne, a wvasted shape, For hlie had taken the Plague at last,Rose up, and throul,-h the happy town, And througn the wintry w-oodlands, past Into the Convent. What a gloom Sat brooding in each desolate room IWhat silence in the corridor! For of that loIng, innuimerons train WAhichl issued forthl a month before Scarce twenty had come back again Counting hIis rosary step b)y step, WAithl a forlorn and vacant air, Like sonie unslirivein ebuchylar d thing, FRIARli J,IROIME S B-EAUTIFUL BOOK. The Friar crawled up the Iioiouldvy stair To his damip cell, that lie might look Once miore on his belov6d Book. And there it lav lupon the stand, Open! lie had not left it so. lie grasped it, with a cry; for, lo He saiv that some angelie hand, While he was gone, had finished it There't was complete, as he hlad planned; Tlere, at the end, stood ffini, writ And gilded as no man could do, Not even that pious anchloret, Bilfrid, the wonderful, nor vet The miiiatore Ethlelw-ol(l, Nor Durliami's Bishop, who of old (England still hoards the priceless leaves) Did the Four Gospels all in gold. And Friar Jeromie nor spoke nor stirred, But, with his eves fixed on that wor(ld, He passed from sin and want and scorn; And suddenly the chlapel-bells Rang, in the hloly Clhristmias-AMorn! 45 46 FRIAR JEROME'S BEAUTIFUL BOOK. In those wild wars which racked the land Since thlen, and kinigdoms rent in twain, The Friar's Beautiful Book was lost, That miracle of hand and brain: Yet, tho,ughl its leaves were torn and tost, The volume was not writ in vain! THE LADY OF CASTELN'ORE. THE LADY OF CASTELNORE. A. D. 1700. 1. RkTAGNE had not her peer. In the Province far or near There were never such brown tresses, such a faultless hand; She had youth, and she had gold, she had jewels all untold, And many a lover bold wooed the Lady of the Land. 2. But she, with quieenliest grace, bent low her pallid face, And "AVoo mne not, for Jesus' sake, fair gentlemen," she said. If they woo'd, then- with a frown she would strike their passion down She might have wed(l a crown to the ringlets on her head. 47 THE LADY OF CASTELNORE. 3. From the dizzy castle-tips, hour by hour she watched the ships, Like shleeted phantoms coming and going evermore, While the twilig,ht settled down on the sleepy seaport town, On the gables peaked and brown, that had sheltered kings of yore. 4. Dusky belts of cedar-wood partly claspt the widening flood; Like a knot of daisies lay the hlamlets on the hill In the hlostelry below sparks of lilght would come and go, And faint voices, strangely low, from the garrutlous old mill. 5. Here the land in grassy swells gently b)roke; there sunk in dells Writh mosses green and purple, and prongs of rock and peat; 48 t THE LADY OF CASTELNORE. 49 Here, in statue-like repose, an old wrinkled mountain rose, With its hoary head in snows, and wild-roses at its feet. 6. And so oft she sat alone in the turret of gray stone, And looked across the moorland, so woful, to the sea, That there grew a village-cry, how her cheek did lose its dye, As a ship, once, sailing by, faded on the sapphire lea. 7. Her few walks led all one way, and all ended at the gray And ragged, jagged rocks that fringe the lonesome beach; There she would stand, the Sweet! with the white surf at her feet, While above her wheeled the fleet sparrow-hawk with startling screech. D 3 THE LADY OF CASTELNORtE. 8. And she ever loved the sea, - God's lhalf-uttered mys tery, - With its million lips of shells, its never-ceasing roar: And t' was well that, when she died, they made her a grave beside The blue pulses of the tide, by the towers of Castel nore. 9. Now, one chill November morn, many russet autumns gone, A strange ship with folded wvings lay dozing off the lea; It had lain throughout the night with its wings of murky white Folded, after weal' flight,- the worn nursling of the sea. 10. Crowds of peasants flocked the sands; there were tears and clasping hands; And a sailor from the ship stalked through the kirk yard gate. 50 TIIE LADY OF CASTELNORE. 51 Then amid the grass that crept, fading, over her who slept, How he hid his face and wept, crying, Late, alas8! too late! 11. And they called her cold. God knows.......Under neath the winter snows The invisible hearts of flowers grow ripe for blossom in! And the lives that look so cold, if their stories could be told, Would seem cast in gentler mould, would seem full of love and spring. I AAM3JNTILLADO. AMONTILLADO. VINTAGE, 1S26. 1. RAFTERS black with smoke, lihite with sand the floor is, Fellows from the mines Calling to Dolores, Tawny flower of Spain Transplanted in Nevada, Keeper of the willes In this old posada. 2. Hither, lig,ht-of-foot, Dolores, Hebe, Circe! Pretty Spaniish girl, WVith not a bit of mercy! 52 AMONTILLA.DO. Here I'min sad and sick, Faint anti thlirsty very, And she does n't bring The Amontillado Sherry! 3. Thank vou. Breath of June! Now my heart beats free, ahl! Kisses for your hand, Amigita mia! You shall live in song, Ripe and warmin and cheery, Mellowing with years, Like Amontillado Sherry. 4. Evil spirits, fly! Care, begone, blue dragon! Only shapes of joy Are sculptured on the flagon: Lyrics,- repartees, - Kisses, - all that's merry 53 4AMNONTILLADO. Rise to touch the lip In Amontillado Sherry! 5. Here be worth and wealth, And love, the arch enchanter; Here the golden blood Of saints, in this decanter! When old Charon comes To row me o'er his ferry, I'11 bribe him with a case Of Amontillado Sherry! 6. While the earth spins round And the stars lean over, Alav this amber sprite Never lack a lover. Blessdd be the man Who lured her from the berry, And blest the girl who brings The Amontillado Sherry 54 AMONTILL.ADO. 7. What! the flagon's dry? Hark, old Time's confession, Both hands crost at XII., Owning his transg,ression! Pray, old monk! for all Generous souls and merry, May they have their fill Of Amiontillado Shlierry v! 55 CAkSTLES. CASTLES. THERE is a picture in my brain That only fades to comne agail, - The sunlig,ht, through a veil of raii To leeward, ilding A narrow stretch of brown sea-san(l, A lighthlouse half a leagte fromn lan(], And two young lovers, hand in hand, A eastle-buiIding. 'Upon the budded appIe-trees The robins sing bVy twos and threes, And ever, at the faintest breeze, Do;Ai drops a blossom; An(d. ever would that lover be The wind that robs the bur,geoncd tree, And lifts the soft tress d(laintily On Beauty's bosom. 56 CASTLES. Ah, graybeard, what a happy thing It was, when life was in its sprilng, To peep through love's )betrothal ring At fields Elysiain, To move and breathe in magic air, To think that all that seems is fair, Ahl, ripe young mouth and golden hlair, Thou pretty vision! Well, well, I think not on these two But the old wound breaks out anew, And the old dream, as if't were true, In my heart nestles; Then tears come welling to my eyes, For yonder, all in saintly guise, As't were, a sweet dead woman lies Upon the trestles. 3* 87 INGRJATITUDE. INGRATITUDE. F OUR bluish eggs all in the moss! Soft-linied home on the cherry-bough-! Life is troul)le, and love is loss, There's only one robin now. O robin up in the cherrv-tree, Singing your soul away, Great is the grief befallen me, And how can you be so gay? Long ago when you cried in tile nest, The last of the sickly brood, Scarcely a pinfeather warming your breast, Who was it broiught you food? Who said, " Music, come fill his throat, Or ever the MIay be fled"? 58 INGRA.TITUDE. YWho was it loved the wee sweet note And the bosom's sea-shell red?. Who said, " Chlerries, grow ripe and big, Black and ripe for this bird of mine"? How little brilght-bosom bends the twig, Sipping the black-heart's wine! Now that my days and nights are woe, Now that I weep for love's dear sake, There you go singing, away as though Never a heart could break! 59 D)ECEMBER. DECEMIBER. * NLY the sea ilitoning, Onily the waiiiscot-moise, Only the wild wind moaiing Over the lonely house. Darkest of all Decembers Ever my life has known, Sitting here by the embers, Stunned and helpless, alone, .Dreaming of two graves lying Out in the damp and chill: One where the buzzard, flying, Pauses at Ialvern Hill; The other, -alas! the pillows Of that uneasy bed 6(1 D1)ECEMLIBElt. Rise and fall wvitlthhe billows Over our sailor's head. Theirs tile heroic story, Died, by frigate and town! Theirs'the Calm and the Glory, Theirs the Cross and the Crown. Aline to linger and languish Here by the wintry sea. Al, faint heart! in thy anguish, Whlat is there left to thee? the sea intoniing, the wainscot-mouse, the wild wind moaning the lonely house. 61 Only Onlv Only Over JIl. INTERLUDES. INTERLUDES. THE FADED YIOLET. H AT thought is folded in thy leaves! WVhat tender thlought, what speechless pain! I hold thy faded lips to minie, Thou darling of the April rain! I hold thy faded lips to mine, Tlioghli scent and azure tint are fled,O drv, mute lips! ye are the type Of somethiing in me cold and dead: Of something, wilted like thy leaves; Of firagrance flown, of bealty dim; Yet, for the love of those white hands Thlat found thlee )y a river's brim, E INTERLUDES. That found thee when thy dewy mouth Was purpled as with stains of wine, For love of her who love forgot, I hold thy faded lips to mine. That thou shoulddst live when I am dead, When hate is dead, for me, and wrong, For this, I use my subtlest art, For this, I fold thee in my son,g. 66 DEAD. DEAD. SORROWFUL woman said to me, "Come in and look on our child." I saw an Angel at shut of day, And it never spoke, -but smiled. I think of it in the city's streets, I dream of it when I rest,Thle violet eyes, the waxen hands, And the one white rose on the breast! 67 INTEItLUD)ES. THE LUNCH. GOTHIC window, where a damask curtain Made the blank daylight shadowy and uncertain: A slab of agate on four eagle-talons Held trimly up and neatly taught to balance A porcelain dish, o'er which in many a cluster Black grapes hung down, dead-ripe and without lustre: A melon cut in thin, delicious slices A cake that seemed mosaic-work in spices: Two China cuLps with golden tulips sunny, And rich inside with chocolate like honey: And she and I the banquet-scene comnipleting With dreamy words, -and very pleasant eating! 08 BEFORE THE RTAIN. BEFORE THE RAIN. E knew it would rain, for all the morn, A spirit on slender ropes of mist Was lowering its g,olden buckets down Into the vapory amethyst Of marshes and swamps and dismal fens, Scoopig- the dew that lay in the flowers, Dipping the jewels out of the sea, To sprinkle them over the land in showers. We knew it would rain, for the poplars showed The white of their leaves, the amber grain Shrunk in the wind,-and the lightning now Is tangled in tremulous skeins of rain! 69 INTERLUDES. AFTER TIlE RAIN. THE rain has ceased, and in my room The sunshine pourl's an airy flood; And on the church's dizzy vane The ancient Cross is bathed in blood. From out the dripping iy-leaves, Antiquely carven, gray and high,, A dormer, facing westward, looks Upon the village like an eye: And now it glimmers in the sun, A square of gold, a disk, a speck: And in the belfry sits a Dove With purple ripples on her neck. 70 WED)DED. WEDDED. (PROVEN;AL AIR.) HE happy bells shall rinng, Afaryuerite; The summer birds shall sing, Jfarygerite; - You smile, but you shall wear Orang,e-blossoms in your hair, Jlarygterite. I Ah me! the bells have rung, Aiargiterite; The summer birds have sung, .Larguerite; - But cypress leaf and rue Make a sony wreath for you, Maryglerite. 71 INTERLUDES. THE BLUEBELLS OF NEW ENGLAND. THE roses are a regal troop, And modest folk the daisies; But, Bluebells of Newv England, To you I give my praises, To you, fair phantoms in the sun, Whom merry Spring discovers, With bluebirds for your laureates, And honey-bees for lovers. The south-wind breathes, and lo! you throng This irugged land of ours: I think the pale blue clouds of May Drop down, and turn to flowers! By cottage doors along the roads You show your winsome faces, 72 0 THE BLUEBELLS OF NEW ENGLkAND. And, like the spectre lady, hauint The lonely woodland places. All nigh,lt your eves are closed in sleep, Kept freshl for day's adorning: Suchl simple faithl as yours cani see God's coming ill tie morniing! You lead me bv vour holiness To pleasant ways of (lduty; You set my- thoughts to melody, You fill me witlh youir beauty. Long may thle heavens give you rain, The sunshine its caresses, Long may the woman that I love Entwine vou in her tresses! 4 73 IN'1TiLLUI)DEi. NAMIELESS PAIN. IN my nostrils thle summler wind Blows the exquisite scent of the rose: O for tle goldell, g,oldeii wind, Breaking the buds as it goes Breakig- the buds and bending thle grass, And spilling, the scent of the rose. O wiind of the summer mnorn, Tearing the petals in twvain, Wafting the fragrant soul Of the rose thlroiugh valley and plain, I vwould you could( tear my lheart to-day, And scatter its nameless pain! 74 AT TWO-AND-TWENTY. AT TWO-AND-TWVENTY. ,AR IAN, May, and Maud Have not past me by, Arched foot, and mobile mouth, And broaze-brown eye! When my hair is gray, Then I shall be wise; Then, thank Heaven! I shall not care For bronze-brown eyes. Then let Mlaud and MIay And Miariai pass me by: So they do not scorn me now, What care I? 75 I.'NTEILUIDES. GLAMOURIE. UNDER the night, In the white moonshine, Sit thou withl me, By the graveyard tree, Imogene. The fire-flies swarmn In the white moonshine, Each with its llght For our bridal night, Imogene. Blushing with love, In the white moonshine, Lie in my arms, So, safe from alarms, Imo-ene. 76 GLAMOURIE.7 Paler art thou Than the white moonshine. Ho! thou art lost, - Thou lovest a Ghost, Imogene! 77 IINTEItLUDES. PALABRA S CARINTOSAS. (SPANISIH AIR.) OOD night! I have to say good night To such a host of peerless things Good night unlto that fragile lalnd All queenly withl its weilght of rings; Good night to fond, uplifted eyes, Good nighlt to chestnut braids of hair, Good nilght unmto the perfect mouth, And all the sweetness nestled there, The sniowy hand detains me, then I'll have to say Good night again! But there will come a time, my love, lWhen, if I read our stars aright, I shall not linger by this porchi With my adieus. Till then, good night! You wish the time were now? And I. You do not blush to wish it so? -i 8 PAL.BRAS CARINOSAS. You would have blushed yourself to deatlh To own so mluch a vear ago, - What, )both these snowy hands! ah, tlieii I'll have to say Good night agaiin! 79 s INTERILUDES. SONG. AV HERE is our dainty, our darling, The daintiest darling of all? Wilere is the voice on thle stairway, AWhere is the voice in the iall? Thle little short steps in the cntln, The silveiw lau,gh in the hall? WAlere is oiur dainty, our darling, Tlle daintiest darling of all, Little ['aitd? 2. Thle peaches are ripe in the orchard, The apricots ready to fall; An(d the grapes reaclh up to the sunshine Over the garlen-w all. so 1. SONG. 0 rosebiud of women! where are you? (She never replies to our call!) Wliere is our dtainty, our darling, Thle daintiest darling of all, Little M-aitd? 4 * 81 INTERLULDES. MAY. EBE's here, Mlay is here! Tile air is firesh and stiiiiy; And the miser-beces arc busy Hoarding golden honey! See the knots of buttercups, And the purple palsics,Thick as these, withill my brain, Grow the wildest fancies! Let me write my songs to-day, Rhymes with dulcet closes, Four-line epics one might hide In the hearts of roses. 82 LYRICS. LYRICS. I. HAVE placed a golden Ring uponI the hand Of the blithlest little Lady in the land! When the early roses Scent the stnany air, Shle shall gathler Iwhite ones To tremble ill her hair! Hasten, happy roses, Come to me by M\ay,In your folded petals Lies my wedding-day. II. THE chestnuts shine tlroughl the cloveii rind, And the woodland leaves are red, my dear; 83 4 INTERLUDES. The scarlet fuchsias burn in the wind, Funeral plumes for the Year! The Year which has brought me so much woe That if it were not for yo'i, my dear, I could wish the fuchsias' fire milght glow For me as well as the Year. III. OuT firm the depths of my heart Had arisen this single cry, Let me behold my beloved, Let me behold her, and die. At last, like a sinful soul At the portals of Heaven I lie, Never to walk with the blest, Ah, never!... only to die. 84 HESPER'IDES. HESPERIDES. IF thy soul, Helrrick, dwelt with me, This is what my songs would be: Hints of our sea-breezes, blent WVith odors from the Orient; Indian vessels deep with spice; Star-showers from the Norland ice; Wine-red jewels that seem to hold Fire, but only burn with cold; Antique goblets, strangely wrought, Filled with the wine of happy thought; Bridal measures, vain regrets, Laburnum buds and violets; Hopeful as the break of day; Clear as clrstal; new as \Iay; MIusical as brooks that run O'er vellowv shallows in the sun; 85 INTERLUDES. Soft as the satin fringe that shades The eyelid(ts of thy fragrant maids; Brief as thy lyrics, Herrick, are, And polished as tke bosom of a star. 86 POE. POE. E walked with demons, ghouls, and things Unsightly... terrors and despairs, And ever in the blackened airs A dismal raven flapt its wings. He wasted richest gifts of God. But here's the limit of his woes, - Sleep rest him! See, above him grows The very grass lwhereon he trod. Bellold! within this narrow grave Is shut thle mnortal part of him. Br,hold! hlie couldl not wholly dim The gracious genius Heaven gave, For strains of music here and there, AWeird murmurings, vague, prophetic tones, Are b)lown across the silent zones Forever in the midnight air. 8 7 INTEIRLUDES. EPILOGUE. F ROM out the blossomed chen'y-tops F Siing, blithesome Robin, chant and sing; WVithl chlirp, and trill, and imagic-stops WVin thou the listening ear of Spring! For while thou lingerest in delight,An idle poet, with thy rhyme, The summer hours will take their flight And leave thee in a banren clime. Not all the Autumn's brittle gold, Nor sun, nor moon, nor star shall bring The jocund spirit which of old MIade it an easy joy to sin g! So said a poet,- having lost The precious time when he was young,, Now, wandering by the wintry coast With empty heart and silent tongue. 88 -a IV. BABY BELL AND OTHER POEMS. BABY BELL AND OTHER POEMS. BABY BELL. I. AVE you not heard the poets tell How came the dainty Baby Bell Into this world of ours? The gates of heaven were left ajar: With folded hands and dreamy eyes, Wandering out of Paradise, She saw this planet, like a star, Hung in the glistening depths of even,Its bril(ges, running to and fro, O'er which the white-wvinged Angels go, Bearing the holy Dead to heaven. She touched a bridge of flowers, those feet, So light they did not bend the bells Of the celestial asphodels, BABY BELL. They fell like dew upon the flowers: Then all thle air grewv straingely sweet! And thus came daility Baby 13e11 Into this world of om'us. II. She came and broulght delicious May. The swallows built beneath the eaves; Like sunlight, in and out the leaves The robins went, thle livelong day; The lily swungi its noiseless bell; And o'er the porcli the trembling vine Seemed bursting with its veins of wine. How sweetly, softly, twilight fell 0, earthl was full of singinga-birds And opening springti(le flowers, WVhen the dainty Bal)y Bell Came to this world of ours III. 0 Baby-, daintv Bal)v Bell, Hilow fair she rewv fiom (lay to day! WVhat woman-natuLre filled her eyes, 92 BA-BY B1ELL. WVhat p)oetry withiii theil lay, Those deep and telldel twilight eyes, So full of meanilig, pure and bright As if she vet stood ill the light Of those oped gates of Paradise. AuVd so we loved her miore and more Ahi, lnever ill our hearts before AWas love so lovely born! We felt w-e had a link betw-een This real w-orld and that unseen, The land beyond the morn; And for the love of those dear e-es, For love of her whom God led forth, (The mothler's being ceased on earth AWhen Baby came from Paradise,) For love of Him who smote our lives, And woke the chlords of joy and pain, We said, Decr Clri.st /our hearts bent downii Like violets after rain. IV. And now the orchards, wihich were white And red with blossoms when she came, 93 BABY BELL. Were rich in autumn's mellow prime; The clustered apples burnt like flame, The soft-cheeked peaches blushed anld fell, The ivory chestnut burst its shell, The grapes hung purpling ill the g,rang,e: And time wrought just as rich a chalige In little Baby Bell. Her lissome form more perfect grew, And in her features we could trace, In softened curves, her mothler's face. Her angel-nature ripened too WAVe thought her lovely wihen she camne, But she was holvy, saintly now.. Around her pale angelic brow AVWe saw a slender ring of flame! V. God's hand had taken away the seal That held the portals of her speech; And oft she said a few strange words Whose meaning lay beyond our reach. She never was a child to us, We never held her b)eing,'s key; 94 BA.BY BELL. tFe could not teach her holy things: She was Christ's self in purity. VI. It came upon us by degrees, We saw its shadow ere it fell, The knowledge that our God had sent His messenger for Babv Bell. WAVe shuddered with unlaigiuaged pain, And all our hopes were changed to fears, And all our thoughlts ran into tears Like sunshine into raiii. We cried aloud in our belief, "0, smnite us gently, gently, God! Teach us to )benid and kiss the rod, And perfect grow through grief." Ahl! how we loved her, God can tell; Her heart was folded deep in ours. Our hearts are broken, Baby Bell! VII. At last he came, the messenger, The iriessenger froin unseen lands: 95 BA.BY BELL. And what did dainty Baby Bell? She only crossed her little hands, She only looked more meek and fair! WAVe parted back her silken hair, WAe wove the roses round her brow, AWhite buds, the suiminer's drifted snow, WArapt her from head to foot in flowers... And thus went dainty Baby Bell Out of this world of ours! 96 PISCATAQUA RIVER. PISCATAQUA RIVER. THOU singest by the gleaming isles, By woods, and fields of corn, Thou sing,est, and the heaven smiles Upon my birthday morn. But I within a city, I, So full of vague unrest, Would almost give my life to lie An hour upon thy breast! To let the wherry listless go, And, wrapt in dreamy joy, Dip, and surge idly to and fro, Like the red harbor-buoy; To sit in happy indolence, To rest upon the oars, 97 IG PISCA.TAQUA RIVER. And catch the heavy earthy scents That blow from sumlmer shlores; To see the rounided sun go down, And with its parting fires Light up the wind(ows of the town And bmun the taperig, spires; And then to hear the nmuffled tolls Froiiin steeples sliim and white, And watch, among the Isles of Shoals, The Beacon's orangeC lilit. 0 River! flowing to the mnain Thlrot,lugh w-oods, and fiel(is of corn, Hear tllhou myi longilg, and my pai This sunllny blirthdatv miorni; And take this solng which sorrow shapes To music like thiine own, iAnd sing it to the cliffs and capes Anid crags where I am knowit! 98 THE TItRAGEDY. THE TRAGEDY. L. DAMIE AUX CAMELIAS. LA D)am;ie aiex Caze'ias, - I tlhink that was the play; The house was packed( from pit to dome Aitli the gallant and the gay, WhVo had come to see the Tra,gedy, And while the hours avway. There was the ruined Spendthrift, And Beautytv in her prime; There was the grave Historian, And there the man of Rlhvme, And the surl- Critic, fiont to front, To see the play of crime. And( there was pompouis Ignorance, Antd Vice ii) flowers and lace; 99 TII E FltRAGEDY. Sir Crcestis and Sir Pandaruts, And the music played apace. ]But of all that crowd I only saw A single, sing,le face! That of a girl whom I had known In the summers loig aoo, WAhen her breath was like the newv-mown hay, Or the sweetest flowers that grow When her heart was light, and her soul was white As the winter's driven snow. And there she sat with her great brown eyes, Thev wore a troubled look; And I read the history of her life As it were an open book; And saw her Soul, like a slimy thing In the bottom of a brook. There she sat in her rustling, silk, WAith diamonds on her wrist, ,And on her brow a gleamingi thread Of pearl and amethyst. 100 :-; I, THE TRAGEDY. "A chelat, a gilded grief!" I said, And my eves were filled withI mist. I could not see the players play: I heard the music moan; It moaned like a dismal autumn wind, That dies ill the woods alone; And wheni it stopped I heard it still, The imornrfid monotone! What if the Count were true or false? I did not care, not I; What if Camille for Armand died? I did not see her die. There sat a woman opposite With piteous lip and eye! The great green curtain fell on all, On langh, and wine, and woe, Just as death some day will fall 'Twixt us and life, I know! The play was done, the bitter play, And the people turned to go. 101 THE TRAGEDY. And did they see the Tragedy? They saw the painted scene; They sawv VArmand(l, the jealous fool, And the sick Parisian queen: But they did not see the Tragedy, The one I saw, I mean! They did not see that cold-cut face, That furtive look of care; Or, seeing her jewels, only said, "The la(lyv's rich and fair." But I tell you,'t was the Play of Life, And that woman pla-yed Despair! 102 HAUNTED. HIAUNTED. NOISOMAE mildewed vine Crawls to the rotting eaves; The gate has dropt from the rusty hinge, And the walks are stamped with leaves. Close by the shlattered feice The red(-clav road ruIs by To a haunted wood, where the hemlocks groan And the w-illows sob and sig,h. Among the dank lush flowers The spiteful fire-fly glows, And a wonan steals l)y the stagnant pond Wrapt in her burial clothes. There's a dark blue scar on her tlirooat, And ever she makes a moan, 103 UHA,UNTED. And the liumid lizards slhine ill thlle grass, And the lichens weep on the stone; And thlle Moon shrinks in a cloud, And thlle traveller shakes wvith fear, And an Owl on the skirts of the wood Hoots, and says, Do you hlear? Go not there at night, For a spell hangs over all,The palsied ellns, and the dismal road, And the broken garden-wall. 0, go not there at ni,ght, For a curse is on the place; Go not there, for fear you meet The Murdered face to face! 104 PAMPINA. PAMPINA. LYING by the summer sea I had a dream of Italy. Chalky cliffs and miles of sand, Mossy reefs and salty caves, Then the sparkling emerald waves, Faded; and I seemed to stand, MI\,self a lang,uid Florentine, In the heart of that fair land. ,And in a garden cool and green, Boccaccio's own enchanted place, I met Pampina face to face, A maid so lovely that to see Her smile is to know Italy Her hair was like a coronet Upon her Grecian forehead set, Ahiere one gemn glistened sunnily 5* 105 PAMPINA. Like Venice, when first seen at sea. I saw within her violet eyes The starliglt of Italian sklies, And on her brow and breast and hand The olive of hecr native land! And, knowing, howi in other times Her lips were ripc with Tuscan rlhymes Of love and wine.and dance, I spread Iy mtantle byv an almnond-tree, Aid " Here, beneathl the rose," I said, "1'11 hear thv Tuscau melo(ld." I heard a talc that was not told In those tec dreamiy day-s of old, AiWhen Heaven, for some divine offence, Smnote Florence with the pestilence; And in that garden's odorous shade The dames of the Decameron, With each a loyal lover, strayed, To laugh and sing, at sorest need, To lie in the lilies in the sun With glint of plunme and silver brede! And whilec she whispers in my ear, 106 PAMPINA.N. The pleasant Arno mutrmurs near, The dewy, slim chameleons run Through twenty colors in the sun; The breezes blur the fountain's glass, And wake.Eolian melodies, And scatter fromi the scenlted trees The lenioni-blossoms on the grass. Thle tale? I hlave forgot the tale, A Lady all for love forlorn, i rosebud, anid a nightingale That )bruised his bosom on the thlorn; A jar of rlubies burie(l d(leep, A glen, a corpse, a child asleep, A Alonk, that was no molnk at all, In the inoonlilght l)y a castle-wall. Now while the large-eyed Tuscan wvove The ildled thread of her romance, WVhich I have lost by grievous chance, - The one dlear woman that I love, Beside me in our seaside nook, Closed a whvite finger in her book, 107 PAMPINA. Half vext that she should read, and weep For Petrarch, to a man asleep! And scorning me, so tame and cold, She rose, and wandered down the shore, Her wine-dark drapery, fold in fold, Imprisoned by an ivory hand; And on a ledgle of granite, half in sand, She stood, and looked at Appledore. And waking, I beheld her there Sea-dreaming in the moted air, A siren lithe and debonair, With iwistlets woven of scarlet weeds, And oblong luncent amber beads Of sea-kelp shiining in her hair. And as I thought of dreams, and how The something in us never sleeps, But laughs, or sings, or moans, or weeps, She turne(ld, -and on her breast and brow I saw the tint that seemed not won From kisses of New England sun; I saw on brow and breast and hand The olive of a sunnier land! 108 PAMPINA. She turned,- and, lo! within her eyes Tilere lay the starlight of Italian skies. Most dreams are dark, beyond the range Of reason; oft we cannot tell If they are born of heaven or hell But to my soul it seems not strange That, lying, by the summer sea, WAVith that dark woman watching me, I slept and dreamed of Italy! 109 LAMIA. LAMIA. "G on your waNy, and let me pass. You stop a wild despair. I would that I were turned to brass Like that chained lion there, "Which, couchant by the postern gate, In weather foul or fair, Looks down serenely desolate, And nothing does but stare! "Ah, what's to me the burgeoned year, The sad leaf or the gay? Let Launcelot and Queen Guinevere Their falcons fly this day. "'T will be as royal sport, pardie, As falconers have tried 110 LAMIA. At Astolat, -but let me be! I would that I had died. "I met a woman in the glade: Her hair was soft and brown, And long bent silken lashes weighed Her ivory eyelids down. "I kissed her hand, I called her blest, I held her leal and fair, She turned to shadow on my breast, And melted into air! "And, lo! about me, fold on fold, A writhling serpent hluing',An eve of jet, a skin of gold, A garnet for a tongue! "0, let the petted falcons fly Right menv in the sun; But let me be! for I shall die Before the year is done." ill INVOCATION TO SLEEP. INVOCATION TO SLEEP. I. THERE is a rest for all thliings. On still nights There is a folding of a million wings, The swarming, honey-bees in unknown woods, The speckled butterflies, and downy broods In dizzy poplar heights Rest for innumerable nameless thiings, Rest for the creatures underneath the Sea, And in the Earth, and in the starry Air.. lWhy will it not unburden me of care? It comes to meaner things than my despair. O weary, weary night, that brings no rest to me! II. Spirit of dreams and silvern memories, Delicate Sleep! One who is sickening of his tiresome days 112 INVOCATION TO SLEEP. Brings thee a soul that he would have thee keep A captive in thly mystical domain, WAVith Puck and -.riel, and the grotesque train That people slumber. Give his silght Ihnmortal shapes, and briing to himn again His Psychle that went out into the iig,ht III. Thlou whlo dost hold the priceless keys of rest, Strew lotus-leaves and poppies onil my breast, And bear me to thly castle in the land Touched with all colors like a burning west, The Castle of AVision, whlere the unchlecked thloulght Wanders at will upon enchanted ground, -Iaking no sound In all the eon'i(dors... The )ell sleeps in the belfrv, from its tongue A d(rowsv miurmur floats into the air, Like thistle-dowvn. Slumber is everyvwhere. The rook's asleep, aI(nd, in its dreaming, caws And( silence mopes iwhere nilghtingales have sung; The Sirens lie in grottos cool and deep, The Naiads in the streams Ti 113 INVOCATION TO SLEEP. But I, in chilling twilight, stand and wait At the portcullis, at thy castle gate, Yeariiing, to see the imagic door of dreams Turn on its noiseless hinges, delicate Sleep! 114 SEA.DRIFT. SEADRIFT. EE where she stands, on the wet sea-sands, Looking across the water: AVild is the nigiht, but wilder still The face of the fisher's daughter! What does she there, in the lightning's glare, WhVat does she there, I wonder? VWhat dread demon drags her forth In the night and wind and thunder? Is it the ghost that haunts this coast? The cruel waves mount highler, An(d the beacon pierces the stormy dark WAith its javelin of fire. Beyond the light of the beacon bright A merchantman is tacking; 11 -0 SEADRIFT. The hoarse wvind whistling through the shrouds, And the brittle topminasts cracking. The sea it moans over d(lead men's bones, The sea it foams in aonger; The curlews swoop through the resonant air With a warning cry of dauger. The star-fish cliongs to the sea-weed's rings In a vague, Iduinb sense of peril; And the spray, with its phlantom-fingers, grasps At the mnullein dry and sterile. 0, who is she that stands by the sea, In the lightning's glare, uindaunted? Seems this now like the coast of hell By one white spirit haunted! The night drag,s by; and the breakers die Along the ragged led-es; The robin stirs in its drencheid nest, The hawthorn blooms on the hedges. 116 SEADRIFT. In shimmering lines, tlhrouh the dripping pines, The stealthy morni advances; And the heavy sea-fog straggles back Before those bristling lances! Still she stallds on the wet sea-sands; The miorningi breaks above her, And the corpse of a sailor gleams on the rocks, - Wlhat if it were her lover? 117 THIE QUEEN'S RIDE. THE QUEEN'S RIDE. AN INVITATION. IS that fair time of year, Lady mine, When stately Guinevere, In her sea-green robe and hood, Went a-riding throti,ghl the wood, Lady mine. And as the Queen (lid ride, Lady mine, Sir Launcelot at her side Laughed and chatted, bending over, Half her friend and all her lover! Ladv mine. And as they rode along, Ladv mine, 118 TIHE QUEEN'S RIDE. The throstle gave them song, And the buds peeped through the grass To see youth and beauty pass! Lady mine. And on, through deathless time, Lady mine, These lovers in their prime, (Two fairy ghosts togethler!) Ride, with sea-green robe, and feather! Lady mine. And so we two will ride, Ladv mine, At youtr pleasure, side by side, Laugh and chat; I bending over, Half your friend and all your lover! Ladv mine. Bitt if yoit like not this, Lady mine, And take my love amiss, Then I'11 ride Liunto the end, 119 THE QUEEN'S RIDE. Half your lover, all your friend! Lady mine. So, come which way you will, Lady mine, Vale, upland, plain, and hill WVait your coming. For one day Loose the bridle, and away! Lady mine. 120 IN THE OLD CHURCH TOWER. IN THE OLD CHURCH TOWER. N the old church tower Hangs the bell; And above it on the vane, In the sunshine and the rain, Cut in gold, St. Peter stands, With the keys in his claspt hands, And all is well. In the old church tower Hangs the bell; You can hear its great heart beat, Ah! so loud, and wild, and sweet, As the parson says a prayer Over wedded lovers there, And all is well. In the dld church tower Hangs the bell; 121 IN 122 IN- TIIE OLD CIIIURCII TOWER. Deep and solemi, hark! agai,. Ali, what passion and what pai1l! W'ith hler lhauds lipoii lier breast, Some poor Soul hlas goie to rest Wihere all- is wll. In the old church tower Haig,s the bell, - An old friend that seems to know All our joy aId all our woe; It is glad lwhen we are wed, It is sad whlen we are dead, Andl all is well! A, THE'.IETEMPSYCHOSIS. THE MAETEMPSYCHOSIS. A BOVE the petty passions of thle crowd I stand iin frozen miarble like a god, Inviolate, and ancient as the moon. The thilng I am, and not thle tling Alan is, Fills my deep dreamning. Let him mnoan and die; Foi hle is dust that shall be laid again I know m- ownl creation was (livine. Strewn on the breczy continents I see The veined shells a-(Id burnished scales which once Enclosed my )eing, husks that had their use I ])rood on all the shapes I must attain Before I reach the Perfect, wliici is God, An(I dream nmy d(reami, and let the rabble go For I am of the mountains and the sea, The deserts, and( the caverns in the earth, The catacomlbs and fi'aoients of old worlds. I was a spirit o. the moun;tain-tops, V perfitnie in tlhe vlcy., a sinoom 123 TtIE METEMIPSYC'IOSIs. On arid deserts; a nomadic -wind Roamiing the tuniverse, L tireless Voice. I was ere RomnLlus anid Relminis were I was ere Nincveli and Blla)-loni I was, and alm, and evermiore shlall be, Progressing, never reachinig to the end. , hlundred years I trelmbled in the grass, The delicate trefoil that muffled warin Az slope on Ida; for a hundred years MAoved in the purplc gyre of tlhose dairk flowers The Greciani woineii strew uponi the dead. -Under the earth, in fra,ranit gloolms, I dwelt Then in the veins and sinews of a pine On a lone isle, where, fioi'o the Cyclades, : minig,ht wind, like a leviathan, Ploulghed throoughl the l)rilie, and firom those solitudes Sent Silence, frighltenied. To and fro I swave(l, l)rawing the sunshine from the stooping cloiuds. Suns camne and went, and many a mnvstic mooni, Orbing and waning, and fierce meteors, Leaving their lurid ghosts to haunt the nighlt. I heard loud voices by the sounlding shlore, The stoirmy sea-g,ods, and from- flluted(l co:ilis 124, TIIEL MIETEMIPSYCIIOSIS. Wil(t mUSiC, and strange shadows floated by, Some imoalling, and some singingi. So tlhe years Clustered albout me, till the hand of God Let dovwn the li1ghtningi fromi a sultry sky, Splintered the piiie and split the iron rock; And fi'om mny odorous prisoii-liouse a bird, I in its bosom, darted: so we fled, Turning the brittle edge of one, highl wave, Island and tree and sea-gods left behind Free as the air firom zone to zone I flew, Far from the tumult to the qilet gates Of daybreak; and beneath me I beheld Vineyards, and rivers that like silver threads lan thlrough the green and gold of pasture-lands, And here and thlere a hamlet, a white rose, And here and there a city, whose slim spires And palace-roofs and swollen domes uprose Like scintillant stalagmites in thle sun; I saw bihge navies battling, with a storm By ra,gged reefs along the desolate coasts, And lazy merchantmen, that crawled, like flies, Over the blue enamel of the sea To India or the icv Labradors. 125 TIlE METEMPSYCHOSIS. A century was as a single day. What is a day to an immortal soul? A breath, no more. Aiid vet I hold( OiiC hour B}cyon(l all price, -that hour wheitn fri'om tle stvy I circlced near andl nearcr to the earth, Nearer and nearer, till I l)rushed' - will,'m s Against the pointed chestnuts, where a str(ainl, That foalned anda chatteredl over pel)l)ly shloals, Fled tlirough the briony, and4 with a shout Leapt hleadlong (dow-n a precipice; andl tlherc, Gathlerin,g w-ild-flowers in the cool ravine, Wanuderedt a woman morec (livinelvy shaped Than any of the creatures of thec air, Or river-godldesses, or restless shlades Of nol)le matrons marvellous in their time For beauty and great suffering; and I sutng, I charmed her thoulght, I gave her dreamis, an(t then Down from the dewy atmosphere I stole And nestled in her b)osom. There I slept From moon to moon, while in 11her eyes a thought CGrew sweet and swveeter, deepeningi like the dawn, A m-stical forewariing! Whlien the stream, Brcakiig, thlrouhi leatless b)ramibles air(1 dead leaves, 126 TIlE METENIPSYCIIOSIS. Piped shriller treble, and firom chestnut boughs The fruit dropt noiseless throug,h the autumn night, I gave a quick, low cry, as infants do AWe weep when we are borli, not whlei v we die So was it destilled; and thus came I lhere, To walk the earth and wear the form of Mall, To suffer bravely as becomes my state, One step, one grade, one cycle nearer God. And knowing, these thlings, can I stoop to fret, And lie, and haggle in the market-place, Give dross for dross, or everythling for naught? No! let me sit above the crowd, and silug, AWaitiing with hope for that miraculous changL AWhichl seems like sleep; and though I waiting St.rvet(, I cannot kiss the idols that are set IBy every gate, in every street and park; I cannot fawn, I cannot soil my soul 'or I am of the mountains and the sea, The deserts, and the caverns in the earth, The catacombs and frag,ments of old worlds. 12 7 V. JUDITH. 6* I JUDIT H. 1. JTUDITH IN TtIE TOWER. ' vOW Holofernes with his barl)arous hordes Crost the Euphrates, laving' waste the land To Esdratelon, and, fialling on the town Of Betliulia, stormed it night and day Incessant, till within the leaugered walls The lold(lest captains faltered; for at length The wells gave out, and then the barley failed, And Famine, like a murderer masked and cloaked, Stole in among the garrison. The air ATas filled with lamentation, women's moans And cries of children; and at night there came A fever, parching as a fierce simoom. Yet Holofernes could not batter down JUDITH. The brazen gates, nor make a single breach WVith beam or catapult in those tough,walls And white with rage among the tents hlie strode, Amoig the squalid Tartar tents hlie strode, And curst the gods that gave him not his will, And curst his captains, curst himself, and all Then, seeing in what strait the city was, Withdrew his men hard by the fated town Amid the hills, and with a grim-set smile Waited, aloof, until the place should fall. All day the house-tops lay in sweltering heat; All night the watch-fires flared upon the towers; And day and night with Israelitish spears The ramparts bristled. In a tall square Tower, Full-fronting on the vile Assyrian camp, Sat Judith, pallid as the cloudy moon That hung half-faded in the dreary sky; And ever and anon she turned her eyes To where, between two vapor-haunted hills, The dreadful army like a caldron seethed. She heard, far off, the eamels' gurgling groan, 132 JUDITH. The clank of arms, the stir and buzz of camps Beleld the camp-fires, flaming fiends of night That leapt, and with red hands clutched at the dark; iAnd now and then, as some mailed warrior stalked Athwart the fires, she saw his armor gleam. Beneath her stretched the t(mples and the tombs, The city sickening of its own thick breath, And over all the sleepless Pleiades. A star-like face, with floatiing clouds of hair, Merari's daughlter, dead Mallasses' wife, Who (since the barley-hlarvest when hlie died), By holy charities, and prayers, and fasts, Walked with the angels in her widow's weeds, And kept her pure in honor of the dead. But dearer to her bosom than the dead Was Israel, its Prophets and its God: An(d that dread midnight, in the Tower alone, Believing He would hear her from afar, She lifted uip the voices of her soul Above the wrangling voices of the world "Oh, are we not Thy children who of old 133 JUDITII. Trod the Chaldean idols in the dust, And built our altars only unto Thlee? Didst Thou not lead us unto Canaan For love of us, because we spurnied the gods? Didst Thou not bless us that we worshipped Thee? And when a fanijne covered all the land, And drove us unto Egy-pt, lwhere the King, Did persecute Tlhy chosen to the death, Didst Thou not smite the swart Egyptians then, And guide us tlhrou,lgh the bowels of the deep That swallowed up their horsemen and their King? For saw we not, as in a wondrous dream, The up-tost javelins, the plunging steeds, The chariots sinking in the wild Red Sea? O lord, Thou hlast been with us in our woe, And from Tlhy bosom Thou hast cast us forth, And to Thy bosom take]n us again: For we have built our temples in the hills Bv Sinai, and on Jordan's flowery banks, And in Jerusalem we worship Thee. O Lord, look down and help us. Stretch Thy hand And fiee Thy people. M\ake us pure in faith, And draw us nearer, nearer unto Thee." 134 JUDITH. As vwhen a harp-strig, trembles at a touch, An(I music rulns thlroutI all its quivering leongth, A'it does not die, but seems to float away, A silvery mist uprisilig froin the strilig,So Jud(tithl's pray-er rose tremulous iii.tlie iiight, A\n([ floated lpward unto other spheres; An(l Judith loosed the hlair about her browvs, Anld bent her head, and wept for Israel. Now while she wept, bowed like a lotus-tlower Tlat watchles its ownl shadowv in the Nile, A stillness seemed to fall upon the land, As if fiom out the calyx of a cloud, That blossomed suddenlv'twixt the earth and moon, It fell, an(d presently there came a sound Of many pinions rustling in the dlark, And voices mingling, far and near, and strange As sea-sounds on some melanclioly coast AWhen first the equinox unchains the St-orm. And Judith started, and with one quick haid( Brushed back the plenteous tresses from a cheek That whitened like a lily, and so stood, Nor breathed, nor moved, but listened with her soul 135 JUDITH. And at her side, invisible, there leaned An Angel mantled in his folded wings, To her invisible, but other eyes Beheld the saintly countenance; for, lo Great clouds of spirits swoopt about the Tower And drifted il) the eddies of the wind. The Angel stoopt, and fiom his radiant brow, And from the gleamingi amaranth in his hair, A splendor fell on Jlidithl, an(d she grew, From her black tresses to her archd feet, Fairer than morning, inI Arabia. Then silently the Presence spread his vans, And rose, a luminous shadow in the air,And through the zodiac, a white star, shot. As one that wakens from a trance, she turned, And heard the twili,ght twitterings of l)irds, The wind in the turret, and from far below Camp-sounds of pawing hoof and clinking steel; And in the East she saw the early dawn Breaking the night's enchantment; saw the Moon, Like some wan sorceress, vanish in mid-heaven, Leaving a moth-like glimmner where she died. 136 JUDITII. And Juditlh rose, and down thle spiral stairs ]escecided to the gardien of the Tower, hliere, at the g-ate, lotuiged Vclhibr, lately fled Fro in Holofernes; as she past she spoke "Thle Lord be with thee, Achior, all tlivy days." Andl i Achlior saw the Spirit of tlhe Lord Had been with her, and, il a single nii'ht, Aoc,rked such a miracle of form and face As left her lovelier than all womankind wllo was before the fairest in Judwa. But she, unconscious of God's miracle, MAoved swiftly on among a frozen group Of statues that with empty, slim-necked urns Tauntedl the tlirstv Senescehlal, until Shle came to whe re. beneath the spreadiing, palns, Sat C'hal)ris w-ithl Ozilas and his fr'iend C'lharinis, governors of the leagntered town. Tley saw a g-lory sliingi on her face Like (ldayl)reak-, and thte marvelled as slhec stood Bendingi before thlem withl hnmilitv. ;\k(ld wrinkled Chlarmis murmured thllrouglh his )car(li 'This woman walkethl in the smile of God." 137 JUDITH. "So walk we all," spoke Judith. " Evermore His- light envelops us, and only those lWho turn aside their faces droop and die In utter midni,ght. If we faint we die. 0, is it true, Ozias, thou hast sworn To yield our people to their enemies After five dlays, unless the Lord shiall stoop From heaven to help us?" And Ozias sai(d: Our youing men die upon the battlements; Our wives and children by the empty tanks Lie down and perish." "If we faint we die. Thle weak lheart builds its palace on the sali(l, The flood-tide eats the palace of a fool: But whloso trusts in God, as Jacob did, Tlioiilgh suffering greatly even to the end, DTwel1ls in a citadel upon a rock That wind nor wave nor fire shall topple down.'" "Our youni ien (lie upon the battlemients," 13S JUDITH. Answered Ozias; "by the dusty wells Our wives and chilh'en." "They shall go and dwell With Seers and Prophets in eternal joy! Is there no God?" "One only," Chabris spoke, "But now His face is darkened in a cloud. He sees not Israel." "Is His mercy less Than Holofernes'? Shall we place our faith In this fierce bull of Assur? are weve mad That we so tear our throats with our own hands?" And Judith's eves flashed battle on the three, Thou,ghl all the woman quivered at her lip StuoC'gling, with tears. "In God we place our trust," Said old Ozias, " yet for five days more." "Ahl! His time is not man's time," Judith cried, 139 JUDITII. "And why should we, the dust about His feet, D)ecide the hour of our deliverance, Sayingi to Him, TtIts 8/lalt Tlou do, and so?" Then gray Ozias bowed his head, abashed That eighty winters had not made him wise, For all the drifted silowv of his long, beard: This woman speaketh wisely. We were wro'hg That in our anguish mocked thle Lord our God, The staff, the scrip, the streaml whereat we drink." And then to Judithl: " Child, what wouldst thou have? I know and know not. Something I know not AIakes music in my bosom; as I move A presence goes before me, and I hear New voices mintgling in the uppe(r air; WAithini my hand there seems another hand Close-prest, that leads me to yon dreadful camp; AWhile in my brain the fragments of a dream Lie like a broken string of diamonds, The choicest missing. Ask no more. I know And know not........See! the very air is white With fingers pointing. iiWherei tlhey point I go." 140 JUDITII. She spoke and paused: the three old men looked up Antl saw a sud,den motion in thle air Of -lhite hands wa-ving,; and tley dared not speak, Blut muffled their thin flaces ill their robes, And sat like those grim statues which the wind Near soIme unpeopled citv inI tlhe East From foot to forehead -wraps in desert dust. "Ere tlhrice the sliadowv of thlle temple slants Across the founiitaiii, I shlall come again." Thuls Jutlithl softlv: then a gleam of lig,ht Playe(l tlirougil the silken lashes of her eves, As lightningii tlirotuli the purple of a clond On soime( still tropic evieing, lwhen the breeze Lifts not a single bl)ossom from the bog,hli "Wihat lies in that unfolded flowver of time No man may kiinow. Thle thing I can I will, Lea,ingii on Godl, remembl)ering holiw He loved(l Jacob in Svria lwheii hle fed the flocks Of LaIban, and whlat miracles He (lid For Abralhamn and for Isaac at their need. Wait t-iott thle end; and, till I come, keel) thou "he sanctuaries." Aii( Ozias sworeG 141 JUDITH. By those weird fingers pointing in the air, And by the soul of Abraham gone to rest, To keep the sanctuaries, thou,gh she caine And found the bat sole tenant of the Tower, And all the people bleaching' on the walls, Aild no voice left. Then Judith moved awav, Her head bowved on her bosom, like to olne That moulds some subtle purpose in a dreami, And in his passion rises up and walks Thlrough labyrinths of slumber to the dan.ii. AWhen she had gained her chamber she threw off The livery of son'ow for her lord, The cruel sackcloth that l)egirt her limbs, And from those ashen colors issuing, forth, Seemed like a golden butterfly new-slipt From its dull chrysalis. Then, after b)ath, She brai(led in the darkness of her hair A thread of opals; on her rounded breast Spilt precious ointment; and put on the robes Whose rustling made her pause, half-garmented, To dream a moment of her bridal morn. Of snow-Awhite sainite were the robes, and rich 142 JUDIT4I. AWitlh delicate branch-workl, silver-frosted star, A\ld imanv a broidered lilN-of-tlic-vale. These things became lher as the seilt the rose, F'(or fairest thig's are beaultv's natural dower. T'ilc sII that thlroigi thle jealous casement'stole iwiiiawed on the Ilebrewv womaii as she stoo(d, To-ed with the oval pendant at her car, And, like a lover, stealing to her lips Tatught tlcin a deeper crimson; then slipt dowvn The tremulous lilies to the sandal straps That bound her snowy ankles. Fortli she went, A glittering wonder, thlrough the crowded streets, Her lhandmai(, like a shadow, following, on. And as in summer whlen the beadedil wheat Leans all one wav, and with a longi ngi look MAarkls the quick convollutions of the wind, So all eves went with Judith as she moved, All hearts leaned to her with a weigllht of love. A starviing woman lifted ghostly hands And blest her for old charities; a child Smiled oi lher thr,)ii,i its tears; and one gaunt chief 143 JUDITH. Threw down his battle-axe and doffed his helm, As if some bright Immortal swept him by. So forth she fared, the only thing of light In that dark city, thridding tortuous ways By gloomyv archl and frowning barbacan, Until shle reached a gate of triple brass That opelled at her coming, and swung to With horrid clang,or and a ring, of bolts. iAid there, outside the city of her love, The warmi blood at her pulses, Judith paused And1( drank the morning; thei with silent prayers Al\ovcd on through flakes of sunlig,ht, through the wood To Holofcrnes and his barbarous hordes. 144 JUDITH. II. THE C3AMP OF ASSUR. S on the house-tops of a seaport town, After a storm has lashed the dangerous coast, Tile people crowd to watch some hopeless ship Tearing, its heart upon the unseen reef, And strain their sight to catch the tattered sail That comes and goes, and glimmers, till at length No eye can find it, and a sudden awe Falls on the people, and no soul may speak: So, from the windy parapets and roofs Of the embattled city, anxious groups Watched the faint flutter of a womai's dress, Judith, who, toiling up a distant hill, Seemed but a speck against the sunny green; Yet ever as the wind drew back her robes, Thev saw her from the towers, until she reached The crest, and past into the azure sky. Then, each one gazing on his neighbor's face, Speechless, descended to the level world. 145 JUDITII. Before his tent, stretched on a leopard-skin, Lay Holofernes, ringed by lis dark lords,Himself the prince of darkness. At his side His iron hlelhet poured Ilpon the grass Its plume of horseliair; onl his ponderous spear, The flinty barb thrust half its lengthl ill earth, As if some giant had flung it, lhung, his shield, And on the burnished circuit of thle shield A sinewy drag'on, ramp,ant, silver-fanged, Glared horrible with sea-green emerald eyes; And, as the sunshine struck across it, writhed, And seemed a type of those impatient lords Who, in the lol(d [wxr-cotuneil here convened, Gave voice for battle, and with fierv words Opposed the cautious wisdom of their peers. So seemed the restless dragon on the shield. Balefil and sillen as a sulplurous cloud Packed with the liglitiing, Holofernes lay, Brooding ulponI the diverse arguments, Himself not arguing,, but listening most To the curt pirases of the snow-liaired chiec-.s And some said Tik-e the city b)y assault, 146 JUIDITII. And grind it illto atoms at a blow." AII(d somne said: ": ait. Thlere's that within the walls Siall gnawv its hleart out,- lilniger. Let us wait." To which thle y-ounger chieftains: "If wve wait, Ourselves shlall starve. Like locusts we have fed Upon the land till there is nothing left, Nor grass, nor grain, nor ainy living, thing. And if at last we take a flinished town W\ith fift- thousand ragged skeletons, What boots it? WAe shlall liunger all the same. Nowl, lI), treat Baitil, we'(d rather die at olnce Thanl languishl, scorching, on tlhese sLn-b)aked lills" At whichl the othlers called thlem "fietful girls," And scoffed at tlhem: " e should have staved at home, And decked our hlair w-ithl siunny butterflies, Like King Arphlaxad's hlarlots. Know ve not P'lticnce and valor are the head and heart Of warriors? -Whlo lacks in either, fails. Ilave we niot lhammered withl our catapults Those stul)borin gates? Have we not hurled our men A\gaiinst the al-gry torrent of their spears? MIalrk how those birds that wheel above yon wood, Iii cla,nging coluimns, settle greedily down 147 JUDITH. Upon the unearthed bodies of our dead. See where they rise, red-beaked and surfeited Has it availed? Let us be patient, then, And bide the sovran pleasure of the gods." "And when," quoth one, "our stores of meat are gone, WAe'II even feed upon the tender flesh Of these tame girls, who, thougli they dress in steel, Like more the dulcet tremors of a lute Than the shrill whistle of an an'ow-head." At this a score of falchions leapt in air, And hot-breathled words took flight from bearded lips, And they had slain each other in their heat, These savage captains, quick with bow and spear, Butt that dark Holofernes started up To his full hleight, and, speaking, not a word, WAith anger-knitted forehead glared at them. As they shrunk back, their passion and their shame Gave place to wonder, findingi in their midst A woman whose exceeding radiance Of brow and bosom made her garments seem Threadbare and lustreless, yet whose attire Outshone the purples of a Persian queen. 14S JUDITtI. For Judith, who knew all the mountain paths As one may know the delicate azure veins, Each crossing each, on his beloved's wrist, Had stolen between the archers in the wood And gained the straggling outskirts of the camp, And seeing the hlauoghlty gestures of the chiefs, Halted, with fear, and knew not where to turn; Then taking heart, had silently approached, And stood among them, until then unseen. And in the air, like numerous swarms of bees, Arose the wondering murmurs of the throng, Whichl checking, Holofernes turned and cried, "IWho breaks upon our councils? angrily, But drinking then the beauty of her eyes, And seeing the rosy magic of her mouth, And all the fragrant summer of her hair Blown sweet]y round her forehead, stood amazed; And in the light of her pure modesty His voice took gentler accent unawares "lWhence come ve? "From yon city." "By our life, Wie thought the phantom of some murdered queen 149 JUDITH;. Hlad risen from dead summers at our feet! If these Jud'ean women arc so shaped, Daulghters of goddesses, let none be slain. Aliat seek ye, woman, in the hostile camips Of Assur' " " Holofcrnes." "This is he." "O good my lord," cried Judithl, "if indeed That art that Holofernes whomn I seek, And( seeking, dread to find, low at thly feet Behol( thy handmaid, wilo in fear has flown From a doomed people." " WTherein thou wert wise Beyond the usual measure of tlhy sex, And shalt have suchl ob)servance as a king Gives to his mistress, tlhoghli our enemy. As for tlhy people, they shlall rue the hour That broughlt not tril)bute to the lord of all, NabuIchodonlosor. But thlou shalt live." "0 good my lord," tlhus Judithl, "as tlhou wvilt, So would thy handmaid; and I pray thlee now 150 JUDITII. Let those that listen stand aw-hile aloof, For I hlave thatt for tlhine especial ear Alost precious to thee." Tlhen the crowd fell back, AMuttering,, and half reluctaitly, because Her beautv drew theni as the iloon the sea,Fell back and ling'ered, leatfinig on their shields Under the trees, somne coutchanit iii tllhe grass, Broad-tlhroatedl, large-lunged Titans overthrown, Eyingi the Hebrew wonani, -whlose sweet looks Broughlit thlem a sudde(Ln visioi of tlheir wives And lolnging's for tlhem- atid her presence there WTas as a sprin, thlat, in Saltara's wastes, Taking te tltirsty traveller b)v surprise, Loosens its silver mutsic at his feet. Tlus Jut(lithl, miodest, withl doixi-droopini eyes -Iy lord, if yet thot lold(lest in thlv thought Thle wor(s whiclh Achior the imtmionIite )Once spakle to tihee concerttin7 Israel, ) treasure thlem, for in tlemi was no guiile. Trite is it, mnaster, that our people knieel To an unseeln bu)t not an utkinonii Go( 3By day and night He iwatclhes over its, 151 JUDITII. And while we worship Him we cannot die, Our tabernacles shlall be Lunprofaned, Our spears invincible; but if we sin, 1f we transgress the law by which we live, Our temples shlall be desecrate, our tribes Thlrust forth illto the lhowling wilderness, Scourged and accursed. Therefore, O my lord, Seeiing- this nation wander firm the faithl Taitlght of the Prophets, I have fled dismayed, For fear the towers might criushl me as they fall. Heed, Holofernes, what I speak this day, And if the thing I tell thee prove not true Ere thrice the sun goes dowvn beyond those peaks, Then straiglihtway plunge thy falchion in my breast, For'tiwere not meet that thy handmaid should live, Having deceived the crown and flower of men." She spoke and paused: and sweeter on his ear WYere Judith's words than ever seemed to him The wanton laughter of the Assyrian girls In the bazaars; and listening he heard not The never-ceasing murmurs of the camp, The neighiing of the awfitl battle-steeds, 152 JUDITH. Nor the vain wind among the drowsy palms. Tile tents that straggled up the hot hillsides, The warriors lying in the tangled grass, The fanes and turrets of the distant town, And all that was, dissolved and past away, Save this one woman with her twilight eyes And the miraculous cadence of her voice. Then Judith, catching at the broken thread Of her discourse, resumed, to closer draw The silken net about the foolish prince; And as she spoke, from time to time her gaze Dwvelt on his massive stature, and she saw That hlie was shapely, knitted like a god, A tower beside the men of her own land. Heed, Holofernes, what I speak this day, And thou shalt rule not only Bethulia, Itich with its hundred altars' crusted gold, But Cades-Barne, Jerusalem, and all The vast hill-country even to the sea: For I am come to give unto thy hands The key of Israel, -Israel now no more, 7* 153 JUDIT'lI. Since she disowns her Prophets and her God. Know then, O lord, it is our yearly use To lay aside the first fruit of the graiii, And so much oil, so many skins of wvine, WV-hich, being sanctified, are kept intact For the High Priests vwho serve before our God In'the great temple at Jerusalem. This holv food whlichl evenl to touch is deathThe rulers, sliding, from their ancient faitlh, WAould fain lay hands on, beiiig welliglii starved; And they have sent a runiiiier to the Priests (The Jew Ben Raphlaim, who, at dead of iigh,lt, Shot like a javelin between thy guards), Bearing a parchment begging that the Clhurch Yield them permit to eat the sacred corn. But't is not lawful they should do this thing, Yet will tliev do it. Then shalt tlhou behold The archers tumbling headlong from the walls, Their streng,th gone from them; thou shlalt see the spears Splitting like reeds within the spearmen's handls, And thle pale captains tottering like old men Strickenr with palsy. Then, O glorious prince, Then with thy trumpets blaring doleful dooms, 154 JUD ri'l. And thl silk banners flapping' in the wind, AWitli squares of mien and eag'er cloutds of horse Thiou slhalt swoop down on them, and strike them dead! But now, my lord, before this come to pass, Three days must wanae, for tlhey touch not the food Uniitil the Jew Been Raphaimn shall return AWith the Priests' messa,ge. Here among thy hosts, O Holofernes, will I dwell the while, Asking' but this, that I and my handmaid Each night, at the twelfth hour, may egress have Unto the valley, there to weep amd pray That God forsake this nation in its sin. And as myn- prophecy prov-e true or filse, So be it with me." Jtndith ceased, and stood, Her hands across her bosom, as in prayer; .And Holofernes answered: "Be it so. And if, O pearl of womnen, the event Prove not a dwarf beside the prophecy, Then there's no woman likle thee - no, not one. Thv name shall be renownied thlrouglh the world, ALtsic shall wait on thee, thou shalt have crowns, Anud jewsel-chests of costly camphior-wood, 11-05 JUDITH. And robes as glossy as the ring-dove's neck, And milk-white mares, and chariots, and slaves: And thou shalt dwell with me in Nineveh, In Nineveh, the City of the Gods!" At which the Jewish woman bowed her head Humbly, that Holofernes might not see How blanched her cheek grew. "Even as thou wilt, So would thy servant." At a word the slaves Brought meat and wine, and placed them in a tent, A silk pavilion, wrought with arabesques, That stood apart, for Judith and her maid. But Judith ate not, saying: "Master, no. It is not lawfil that we taste of these 3[v maid has brought a pouch of parched corn, And bread, and figs, and wine of our own land, Which shall not fail us." Holofernes said, So let it be," and lifting up the screen Past out, and left them sitting in the tent. That day he mixt not with the warriors As was his wont, nor watched them at their games In the wide shadow of the terebinth-trees; 156 JUDITH. But up and down within a lonely grove Paced slowly, brooding, on her perfect face, Saying her smooth words over to himself, Heedless of time, till he looked up and saw The spectre of the Twilight on the hills. Tile fame of Judith's loveliness had flown From lip to lip throughout the canvas town, And as the evening deepened, many came From neighboring camps, with frivolous excuse, To pass the green pavilion,- long-haired chiefs That dwelt by the Hydaspe, and the sons Of the Elymeans, and slim Tartar youths; But saw not her, who, shut from common air, Basked in the twilight of the tapestries. But when night came, and all the camp was still, And nothing moved beneath the icy stars In their blue bourns, except some stealthy guard, A shadow among shadows, Judith rose, Calling her servant, and the sentinel Drew back, and let her pass beyond the lines Into the valley. And her heart was full, Seeig, the watchl-fires burning on the towers 15 7 JUDITItI. Of her own city: and she knelt and prayed For it and thllem that dwelt within its walls, And was refreshed,- sucli balmn there lies in prayer For those who know God listens. Straig'htway then The two returned, and all the camnp was still. One cresset twinkled dimlv in thle tent Of Holofernes, and Bagoas, his slave, Lay prone across the matting at the door, Drunk with the wine of slumber; but his lord Slept not, or, sleeping, rested not for thotnllh Of Judith's beautytv. Two large lucent eyes, Tender and full as moons, dawned on his sleep; And when he woke, they filled the vacant dusk WVith an unearthly splendor. All nig'ht long A stately figure glided tlhrough his dream Sometimes a queenly diadem weighed down Its braided tresses, and sometimes it came Draped onlv in a misty cloud of veils, Like tle King,'s dtancing-girls at Nineveh. And once it bent above him in the gloom, And touched his forehead with most hungry lips. Then Ilolofernes turned upon his couch, An(l, y-earning for tle daybreak, slept llo more. 15 8 JUDITII. III. TIIE FLIGIIT. IN the far east, as viewless tides of time Drew on the drifting slhallop of the Dawn, A fringe of gold went rippling up the gray, And breaking rosily on cliff and spur, Still left the vale in shadow. While the fog Folded the camip of Assur, and the dew Yet shook in clusters on the new green leaf, And not a bird had dipt a wing, in air, The restless captain, haggard with no sleep, Stept over the curved body of his slave, And thridding moodily the dingy tents, HIives packed with sleepers, stood within the grove, And in the cooj, gray twilight gave his thou,lght Wings; but however wide his fancies flew, They circled still the figure of his dream. HIe sat: before him rose the fluted domes Of Ninevehli, his city, and he heard I -0 9 JUDITH. The clatter of the merchants in the booths Selling their merchandise: and now he breathed The airs of a great river, sweeping down Past carven pillars, under tamarisk boughs, To where the broad sea sparkled: then he groped In a damp catacomb, he knew not where, By torchlight, hunting for his own grim name On some sarcophagus: and as he mused, From out the ruined kingdom of the Past Glided the myriad women he had iNronged, The half-forgotten passions of his youth; Dark-browed were some, with haughty, sultry eyes, Imperious and most ferocious loves; And some, meek blondes with lengths of flaxen hair,Dau,ghters of Suririse, shaped of fire and snow, And Holofernes smiled a bitter smile Seeing these spectres in his revery, When suddenly one face among the train Turned full upon him,- such a piteous face, Blanched with such anguish, looking such reproach, So sunken-eyed and awful in its woe, His heart shook in his bosom, and he rose As if to smite it, and before him stood 160 JUDITII. Bagoas, the bondsman, bearing in his arms A jar of water, while the morning broke In dewy splendor all about the grove. Then Holofernes, vext that he was cowed By his own fantasy, strode back to camp, Bag,oas following, sullen, like a hound That takes the color of his master's mood. And with the troubled captain went the shapes Whiich even the daylight could not exorcise. "Go, fetch me wine, and let my soul make cheer, For I am sick with visions of the night. Some strangest malady of breast and brain Hath so unnerved me that a rustling leaf Sets my pulse leaping.'Tis a family flaw, A flaw in men else flawless, this dark spell I do remember when my graiidsire died, lie thoughlt a lying Ethiop he had slain Was strangling him; and, later, my own sire Went mad with dreams the day before his death. And I, too? Slave! go fetch me seas of wine, That I may drown these fantasies - no, stay K 161 JUDITH. R?nsack the camps for choicest flesh and fruit, And spread a feast withil my tent this ight, -And hang the place with garlands of new flowers Then bid the He brew woman, -ea or nay, To banquet with us. As thou lov'st the light, Bring her; and if indeed the gods have called, The gods shall find me sitting at my feast Consorting with a daug,hter of the gods!" Thus Holofernes, turniing on his heel Impatiently; and strai,lght Bagoas went And spoiled the camps of vianis for the feast, And hung the place with flowers, as he was bid; And seeing Judithl's servant at the well, Gave his lord's message, to which answer came: 0 what am I that should gainsay my lord? And Holofernes smiled within, and thou,lt: Or life or death, if I should have her not In spite of all, my mighty name would be A word for laughlter among womankind." "So soon!" thoulght Judith. " Flying pulse, be still! O Thou who lovest Israel, give me strength 162 JUDITH. And culniing such as never woman had, That my deceit may be his stripe and scar, 5Av kisses his destrucetion. This for thee, AIy city, Bethulla, this for thee!" And thrice that day she prayed within her heart, Bowied down alllong the cushions of the tent In shlame and wretchedness; and thus she prayed " O save me firom him, Lord! but save me most From mine own sinful self: for, lo! this man, Thloug,h viler than the vilest thing that walks, A worshipper of fire and senseless stone, Slaver of children, enemy of God, He, even he, O Lord, forgive my sin, Hathl by his heathen beauty moved me more Than should a dauglhter of Judea be moved, Save by the noblest. Clothe me with Thy love, And rescue me, and let me trample down All evil thog,ht, and firom my baser self Climb up to Thee, that aftertimes may say: S,1e tore tke l(iltty )cla.ssio)l fi'oie h1er sotil,Jitdi'Ah Ike plo-e, tke fcitJi(l ioito dcealk." 163 JUDITH. Half seen behind the forehead of a crag The evening-star grew sharp against the dusk, As Judith lingered by the curtained door Of her pavilion, waiting for Bagoas: Erewhile hlie came, and led her to the tent Of Holofernes; and she entered in, And knelt before him in the cresset's glare Demurely, like a slave-girl at the feet Of her new master, while the modest blood Makes protest to the eyelids; and he leaned Graciously over her, and bade her rise And sit beside him on the leopard-skins. But Judith would not, yet with gentlest grace Would not; and partly to conceal her blush, Partly to quell the riot in her breast, She turned, and wrapt her in her fleecy scarf, And stood aloof, nor looked as one that breathed, But rather like some jewelled deity Ta'en by a conqueror from its sacred niche, And placed among the trappings of his tent, So pure was Judith. For a moment's space She stood, then stealing softly to his side, 164 JUDITII. Knelt down by him, and with uplifted face, Vhereon the red rose blossomed with the white: This night, my lord, no other slave tlhait I Shall wait on thee with fruits and flowers and wine. So subtle am I, I shall know thy wish Ere thou canst speak it. Let Bagoas go Among his people: let me wait and serve, More happy as thy handmnaid than thy guest." Thereat he laughed, and, humnoring her mood, Gave the black bondsman freedom for the night. Then Judith moved, obsequious, and placed The meats before him, and poured out the wine, Holding the golden goblet while lie ate, Nor ever past it empty; and the wine Seemed richer to him for those slender hands. So Judith served, and Holofernes drank, Until the lamps that glimmered round the tent In mad processions danced before his gaze. Without, the moon dropt down behind the sky; Within, the odors of the heaD, flowers, And the aromas of the mist that cr'led 165 JUDITII. From swinging cressets, stole into the air; And throulgh thle mist lie saw hler come and go, Now shlowing a fautltless arm against the lighlt, And now a dainty sand(lal set witlh gems. At last lie knew not in whlat place lie was. For as a man whlo, softly hleld by sleep, Knows that lie dreams, yet knows not true from false, Perplext between the margilis of two worlds, So Holofernes, fluslied withl the red wine. Like a bride's eyes, the enyes of Judith, As ever bending over him with smiles She filled the generous cllalice to the ed,ge And half hle slhriuk from her, and knew no Then wholly loved her for her loveliness, And drew her close to him, lind breathed And once hle thonghlt the lHebrew woman A wine-song,, touchingi on a certain king lWho, dyingi of strange sickness, drank, and Beyond the touch of mortal agony, A vanue tradition of the cunning, sprite That dwells within the circle of thle grape. And thus he heard, or fhecied that lie lea 1'66 lier'breatli; saii,, JUI)ITII. "The small green grapes ill countless clusters grew, Feeding on mystic moonilight and whlite dewv And mellow sunshine, the long summer thllrough: "Till, with faint tremor in her veins, the Vine Felt the delicious pulses of the wine; And the grapes ripened in the year's decline. "And day by day the Virgins watched their charge; And whlen, at last. beyond the hlorizon's marge, The hlarvest-mnooii droopt beautifutl and large, "The subtle spirit in the grape was caug,ht, And to the slowly dying, Alonarch broullght, In a great cup fantastically wrought, "Whereof he' draink; then straig,ltway from his brain WVent the weird malady, and once again He walked( the Palace, free of scar or paiin, "But strangely changed, for somehow he had lost Body and voice: the courtiers, as he crost The roval chambers, whIispered, - Tle( Kiiy's Gho.t.!" 1 6 7 JUDITH. "A potent medicine for kings and men," Thus Holofernes; "he was wise to drink. Be thou as wise, fair Judith." As he spoke, He stoopt to kiss the treacherous soft hand That rested like a snow-flake on his arm, But stooping reeled, and from the place hlie sat Toppled, and fell among the leopard-skins: There lay, nor stirred; and ere ten beats of heart, The tawny giant slumbered. Judith knelt And gazed upon him, and her thoughts were dark; For half she longed to bid her purpose die,To stay, to weep, to fold him in her arms, To let her long hair loose upon his face, As on a mountain-top some amorous cloud Lets down its sombre tresses of fine rain. For one wild instant in her burning arms She held him sleeping; then grew wan as death, Relaxed her hold, and starting from his side As if an asp had stung her to the quick, Listened; and listening, she heard the moans Of little children moaning in the streets 168 JUDITH. Of Bethulla, saw famished women pass, W\riii,giiig their hands, and on the broken walls The flower of Israel dyilng. With quick breath Judith blew out the tapers, all save one, And from his twisted girdle loosed the sword, And grasping the huge hilt with ler two hands, Thrice smote the Prince of Assur as lie lay, Thrice on hiS neck she smote him as he lay, And firom the brawny shoulders rolled the head Winking and ghastly in the cresset's light; Which done, she fled into the yawning dark, There met her maid, who, stealing to the tent, Pulled down the crimson arras on the corse, And in her mantle wrapt the brazen head, And brought it with her; and a great gong boomed Twelve, as the women glided past the guard WAith mneasured footstep but outside the camp, T(-rror seized on them, and tlihey fled like wraiths Through the hushed midnight into the b)lack wvoods, Where, from gnarled roots and ancient, palsied trees, Dread shapes, upstarting, clutched at them; and one, 169 J t,D IT II. A nameless bird( ill branches overhead Screeched, and the blood grew cold about their lhearts. By mouldv caves, the lioode.d viper's haunt, Down perilous steeps, and throtugh the desolate gorge, Onwvard thley flecw, witlh adly strealiling hlair, Bearing their hideous burden, till at last, Wild with the preg,iiait horrors of the nighlit, They dashed thlemselv-es agaiiist the City's gate. The hours dragged by), andl in the \ ssur canlp The pulse of life was thlrobl)bingi, laing'uidly, AWlhen from the outer waste an Arab scott Rushed pale and breathless on the morning watcih, With a strange story of a Head that hiLg, High in the air above the City's wall, A livid Head, withi kniotted, snake-like ctLrls,And howv the face was like a ftec hlie knew, And how it turned and twisted in the wvitd, .And how it stared upon him wvithl fixt orbls, Till it was not iin morital mian to stay; And how be fled(, and how he thought the Thil-l Came bowling thronugh the wheat-fields after hiim. tid some that listened were appalled(l, and soine 1 70 JUDITLI. Derided him; but not the less they threw A furtive glance toward the shadovwy wood. Bagtoas, amiong the idlers, heard the mnan, :nVd quickl to bear the ttdiiigs to his lord, Ran to the tent, and calledl, " My lord, awake! \wake, mIv lord! " and lillgered for reply. But answer came there nonIe. A,,ain lie called, iAnd all was still. Then, Ilaughing ill his heart To thinik how deeply Holofernes slept Ara-pt in soft arias, hle lifted( up the screen, nII([ marvelled, fildingi no one in the teint Sav-e Holofernes, buried to the waist, Head foremiost in the canopies. He stoopt, And drawingi back the damnask folds behleld hIis master, the -riin'iant, lviiig (lead. As in some breathless wilderness at night A leopard, pinioned by a falling tree, Slrieks, and the echoes, mimicking the cry, Iepeat it in a thousand different keys By lonely hei,lghts and unimagiined caves, So shrieked Bagoas, and so his cry was caught 1 71 JU D T'rII. And voiced along the vast Assyrian lines, And buffeted among tihe hundred hills. Then ceased the tumult sudden as it rose, And a great silence fell upoln the camps, Anii( all the people stood like blocks of stone In some deserted quarry; then a voice Blowii through a trumpet clamored: ie is dead! Tl'e Prince is dead! Tlte Ilebrew witci klatlU slain Prince Iloloferites! Fly, s.syrias, fty! As from its lair the mad tornado leaps, And, seizing on the yellow desert sands, Hurls them in swirling masses, cloud on cloud, So, at the sounding of thiat baleful voice, A panic seized the mighty Assur hosts, And flung them from their places. With wvild slouits Across the hills in pale dismay they fled, Trampling the sick and wounded under foot, L,eaning their tents, their camels, and their arms, Their horses, and their gilded chariots. Then with a dull metallic clang the gates Of Bethulla opened, and from each 172 JUDITII. A sea of spears surged down the arid hills And broke remorseless on the flying foe,Now hemmed them in upon a river's bank, Now drove them slieking down a precipice, Now in the mnountain-passes slaughtered them, ULntil the land, for many a weary leaLgue, WTas red, as in the sunset, with their blood. And other cities, when they saw the rout Of Holofernes, burst their gates, and joined WAith trump and banner in the mad pursuit. Three days before those unrelenting spears The cohorts fled, but on the fourth they past Bevond Damrascus into their own land. So, bv God's grace and this one woman's hand, The tombs and temples of the Just were saved; And evermore throughout fair Israel The name of Judith meant all noblest things In thought and deed; and Judith's life was rich With that content the world takes not away. And far-off kings, enamoured of her fame, Bluff princes, dwellers by the salt sea-sands, Sent caskets most laboriously cawrved 173 JUDITH. Of ivory, and papyrus scrolls, whereon AWas writ their passion; then themselves did come AWithl spicy caravans, in purple state, To seek regar(d from her imperial eves. But she remained unlved(, and to the end ANalked with the angels in her widowv's wee(ts. 174 VI. SONNlETS. * 4 SO'N NETS. EUTERPE. NOVOW if Euterpe held me not in scorn, I'd shape a lyric, perfect, fair, and round As that thin band of gold wherewith I bound Your slender finger our betrothal morn. Not of Desire alone is music born, Not till the MIuse wills is our passion crowned Unsoug,ht she comes, if soughit but seldom found. Hence is it Poets often are forlorn, Taciturn, shy, self-immolated, pale, Taking no healthy pleasure in their kind, Wrapt in their dream as in a coat-of-mail. Hence is it I, the least, a very hind, Have stolen away into this leafy vale Drawn l)y the fluti!lgs of the silvery wind. ~~~~8* L SONNETS. AT,VAY RIDGE, LONG ISLAN-). PLEASANT it is to lie amid tle grass -Uder tlecse shlady locusts, hlalf tlhe dav, WAatchling the sllips reflected on thlle Bay, Topmiast and shroud, as iii a wizard's glass To see the hlappy-ieartecd martins pass, Btrusliing thlle dew-drops firomli tle lilac spray:v Or else to lhaig einamouired o'er some lay Of fair reg'iolns: or to lnuse, alas On DaJate, exiled, jou'rneyiun' outworn'; On patient llilton's sorrowftlest eves Shult fi'om the splendors of the Ni,lght and MIorn. To thl-ink that now, beneatlh the Italian skies, In such clear air as thlis, by Tiber's wave, Daisies are trembling over Keats's grave. 178 PURSUIT AND POSSESSION. PURSUIT AND POSSESSION. jHEN I )behlold whlat pleasurc is Pursuit, AthIat life, whlat glorious eagerness it is; Tllen mark hIow fuTll Possessioii falls froii this, Ilowi ftirer secias the )blosso1i tliani the fruit, I aia perplext, aiinl ofteii strickein iuute Aoderirng whvlichl attainie(d the hiiglier bliss, The wiao'(l inisect, or tlhe clhrysallis It thrust aside w-itlh inireluetait foot. Sp)irit of verse, that still elud'st my art, Tilout airy- pliantoim that dost ever hlaunt me, O niever, never rest uponi my lheart, If llwhe I leave thlee I shlall little wvant thlee! Still flit avway iu moonlilght, rainii, aii(I (lew, WAVill-o'-the-wisp, that I may still pursue 179 SONNETS. EGYPT. FANTASTIC Sleep is busy with mny eyes: I seem in some waste solitude to stand Once ruled of Cheops: upon either lhand A dark illimitable desert lies, Sultry and still,- a realm of mysteries A wide-browed Sphinx, half buried in the sand, With orbless sockets stares across the land, The woefulest thing beneath these brooding skies, VWhere all is woeful, weird-lit vacancy. 'T is neither midnilght, twilight, nor moonrise. Lo! while I gaze, beyond the vast salld-sea The nebulous clo(uds are downward slowly drawn, And one bleared star, faint-glimmering like a bee, Is shut in the rosy outstretched hand of Dawn. lS0 MIRACLES. MIRACLES. ICK of myself and all that keeps the light Of the blue skies away from me and mine, I climb this ledge, and by this wind-swept pine Lingering,, watch the coming of the nilght. 'T is ever a new wonder to my si,ght. Alen look to God for some mysterious sign, For other stars than those that niglt]y shline, For some unnatural symbol of His might:WAVouldst see a miracle as grand as those The prophets wrouglit of old in Palestine? Come watch with me the shaft of fire that,lows In yonder West; the fair, frail palaces, The fading alps and archipelagoes, And great cloud-conltinents of sunset-seas. 181 SONNETS. ' FREDERICKSBURG. THE increasing mooiiliiht drifts across my bed, And on the ch'irchliard by the road, I knowv It falls as white and noiselessly as saow.. 'T vwas such a night two weary summers fled The stars, as now, were walillig overhead. Listell! Again the shrill-lipped bngl,es blow Alhere the swift currents of the river flow Past Fredericksl)btirg: far off the heavens are red Witlh sldden conflag'ration: on yon heigit, Linstock in hald, the gtnniers hold their breath A si,gnal-rocket pierces the dense ni,ght, Fli,gs its Spelnt stars upon the town beneath Hllark! the artillery miassin" on the right, Hark! -the black squadrons wheeling down to Deatlh! 1i; BY THE POTOMAC. BY THE POTOMIAC. HE soft new grass is creepilng o'er thie graves By the Potomac; ad the crisp g'ouiid-flower Lifts its blue cup to catch thle passilig sihowver Thel pilie-coce ripelis, alid thle loIng m1oss waves Its tangledl goiifaloiis above our braves. Hark, w-liat a burst of music from yoio bowver! - Thle Soutlieru nightiungale that, hour by hour, In its melo(dious summer madness raves. Ah, w-ith vwhat del(cate touches of her hand, AWith- -what sw-eet voices, Nature seeks to screen h'le awfutl C(rime of this (distracte(d land, Sets her b)irds si5ii'iii, while she spreadls her grce Atlntle of velvet lwhere the Mlrd(lered lie, As if to hide the horror firom God's eye. 183 L'EN VOI. HIS is 1miy Yottli, -its kopes and dreamis. Ilow strange and shadowy it all seems, After these nianiy years! Tatrningy the payes idly, so, I look witk sitiles u'pon the woe, Zpon the joy with tears! Go, little Book. The old and wise -ill gIreet thee with sitspicious eyes, 7'th stare, or furtive f-ownt; Bitt he)re and theere some golden maid Ala,y like thee... thou'lt not be afraid Of yoang eyes, blae or brown. To slch a one, perchance thou'lt sing As clearly as a bird in spring Hailing the apple-blossom; 4nd she sill let thee make tiy nest, Per7haps, witlhin her snowy breast. Go; rest thoui in her bosom.