CHAUNCEY WETMORE WELLS 1872-1933 r This book belonged to Chauncey Wetmore Wells. He taught in Yale College, of which he was a graduate, from 1897 to 1901, and from 1901 to 1933 at this University. Chauncey Wells was, essentially, a scholar. The range of his read ing was wide, the breadth of his literary sympathy as uncommon as the breadth of his human sympathy. He was less concerned with the collection of facts than with meditation upon their sig nificance. His distinctive power lay in his ability to give to his students a subtle perception of the inner implications of form, of manners, of taste, of the really disciplined and discriminating mind. And this perception appeared not only in his thinking and teaching but also in all his relations with books and with men. MARGINALIA MARGINALIA Jy BY ARL^S EDMUND MERRILL, JUNIOR NEW YORK PRIVATELY PRINTED MCMII 352S~ JNMEMORIAM Sixty-two copies of this book were printed in February, 1902, of which two copies were on vellum, tfhis is Number :.*.. ... 863755 to JRebete March, 1902 CONTENTS MARGINALIA To Tusitala, 13 Ballade of Happiness, 14 To My Books, 16 Rondel, 17 Cradle Song, 18 Tralimerei, 19 Rubaiyat, 20 On a Quiet Life, 22 A Voice in the Wilderness, 23 Ballade of Hope Deferred, 24 Cynthia s Bridal, 26 COLLEGE VERSE Dedication of Yale Verse, 29 Horace in New Haven, 30 Ballade of Cheese and Beer, 32 With Pipe and Book, 34 ToH. A. B.,35 Brave Mother Yale, 36 Envoy of Yale Verse, 37 TRANSLATIONS Ad Venerem, 41 The Epitaph in Form of a Ballade, 42 Ballade, 44 Ballade of the Midnight Forest, 46 MARGINALIA t 3] TO TUSITALA Since thou hast left us for the land of light And the clear woodland note no more we hear And the last wonder-woven tale is told. From snow to flower, from flower to snow the year Draws on for us less cheerly than of old When thou wert in our sight. None comes to claim thy laurels ; who but thou Could frame to words the long, long thoughts of youth? What now in all our dream there lives of truth How may we know ? Thou art not with us now. Yet this to us for whom thy voice is still : Each wonderful clear night of stars, each wind That breathes the freshness of the great glad sea On sullen soul and narrow-circling mind Is still a voice interpreted of thee And with thy presence filled ; That ancient song thou taught st us first to hear The woods still sing to us, when all the trees Wake to the sudden whisper of the breeze And, if we listen, we may know thee near. BALLADE OF HAPPINESS Ale and argument, bread and cheese, Song and silence, and neither best ; Pipes and poetry, toil and ease, The day for work and the night for rest ; A cheerful sermon, a thoughtful jest, A friend to follow, a foe to fight, And a hopeful heart on a hopeless quest : "these are the springs of my delight. April rain and November skies, Frost of autumn and thaw of spring; Bare brown fields where the ground-larks rise, Feathery birches where robins sing ; Daisies to buttercups beckoning In lanes by the morning breeze blown bright, And the joy of living that May days bring: these are the springs of my delight. A white-capped harbour, a sea-salt gale And the thunder clouds scudding across the sky, Or the breathless calm, and the flapping sail And the lights of the night boat slipping by ; The wind in the trees and the low reply Of ripples that break where the shore shows white Gainst shadows that ancient pines raise high : These are the springs of my delight. [ 5 3 The sweet content of old time books ; The song of the surf in the strong white sun, And the little laugh of hidden brooks That under the drooping willows run ; The battles lost and the battles won, Sunshine at morning and shade at night, The finished work and the task begun : are the springs of my delight. Envoy These are pleasures, you say, that pall ? You (and you only) shall read aright : These and one other, more dear than all, These are the springs of my delight. TO MY BOOKS As a far traveler in a distant land Glad greets the home-word of his native soil, So, weary of this busy world s turmoil, The strong and peaceful words of this strong band Where, clothed in lucid thought or figure grand, My own rude, half-formed thoughts perchance I find, Come like a voice from some long-vanished mind, Distant, but for the moment close at hand. In the stern eddies of adversity, Or when with fortune s sunny tide I sail, Here is a never failing sympathy ; When days are grey and other pleasures fail, I talk with them and for a little time They lightly bear me to another clime. [ 7] RONDEL Since I am I, and you are you, So must I love thee, wonder-eyes ; The wood-thrush knows not why it flies When falls at even-tide the dew From the deep chalice of the skies, Nor know I why, who know tis true, Since I am I, and you are you, So must I love thee, wonder-eyes. I would not know, for ever new, Nor dimmed by knowledge overwise, Love s mystery still satisfies As understanding could not do Since I am I, and you are you. CRADLE SONG The stars are in the silent skies, The moon s asleep behind the hill, The daffodils have closed their eyes, And all the tired world is still. Returning up the airy mile Beyond the faintest, farthest star, Go, dear, and stay a little while Where God and quiet are. And when the stars at morning fade Into the portals of the day, Bring peace to us, that unafraid We may renew the upward way, And, with a message brought again From fairer fields of Paradise, Walk gladly thro a world of men While He is in His skies. E 9] TRAUMEREI The baton falls, and hesitant and low I hear the well-remembered song begin, Rise tremulously sweet, then swiftly win To brave andante singing clear, then slow Sink to a solemn-paced adagio ; I listen : and a song leaps up within My heart that mocks the singing violin, With a diviner melody aglow. The quiet hum of bees is in my ears, And deep in daisies by your side I lie Where the long grasses wave their whispering spears In rhythmic sway to the low song you sing: And somewhere from the silence of the sky An answering note and in my heart is Spring. [20] RUBAIYAT I The quiet Land of Sleep lies far away Beyond the misty Portals of the Day ; Not all the silent journey fare at will, Tho none the drowsy Porter needs must pay. II There rise the unfathomed Springs of sweet Sur prise, Where What we Know at Naishapur outvies In wonder the Unknown and yet is here Discerned thro all the strangeness of its guise. Ill And there, transformed by alchemy of night, The ever-baffling puzzles of the light, The weary tangles in the Thread of Life, Lie all unravel d to our clearer sight. IV But what, O Saki, if this land of Youth And sweet Delight be yet the land of Truth ? Do we that bear the burden of the noon Bear it but vainly, striving to our ruth ? Yet may we trust, tho long deferred our quest And far away the Islands of the Blest, The unfolded roll of Fate to read at last, And, trusting this, be careless of the rest. VI For Love that guards us Here, shall guide us There And still shall guide beyond the Portals, where, When the great Riddle is at last resolv d, Shall break at even s close a Dawn more fair. [22] ON A QUIET LIFE [From Avenius\ Small fields are mine, and small the rent they bring, Yet therein lies no taint of usury. Having enough, I m rich as Lydia s king, Alike from worry and from censure free, From sins of sloth and cares of polity ; So wars and curule chairs aside I fling Small fields are mine. Free from ambition s vain anxiety. From wealth that like the fleeting clouds takes wing, The pomp of camp and court I do not sing ; That this is sure, enough of pride for me Small fields are mine. A VOICE IN THE WILDERNESS Now God be with us ; He that hath denied us Our path to see, as thro* this world we go, Make plain the hand that thro* the dark shall guide us : We would not hope but know. Lord, we would follow, could we see before us Thy standard rise, a shining cloud by day, By night a fiery pillar flaming o er us To light our stumbling way. Thou that of old did st lead their host united That followed Thee across the trackless plain, So lead Thou us, till we, no more affrighted, Shall feel Thy hand again. Then shall we know that Thou wert ever near us That called upon the God we did not see : Lord, if to-day we know Thee not, yet hear us We know our need of Thee. BALLADE OF HOPE DEFERRED [Ballade a double refrain] With the old wan look of eagerness The gargoyle, on Our Lady s fane, Grim gazes from its dark recess Adown the turn of the winding lane ; Grim gazes thro the wint ry rain That lends the fields a faery sheen, For the World s Desire to come again The World s Desire hath no man seen. And long are the years of its duress, And slowly the seasons wax and wane, Nor ever the eager glance grows less Adown the turn of the winding lane ; For, whether they fall on the standing grain Or the white snow shrouding spring s faint green, The stony eyes their watch maintain The World s Desire hath no man seen. For silent aye and motionless, Beside the veering weather-vane It gazes in calm and in wild storm s stress Adown the turn of the winding lane^ Nor recks that its waiting be in vain But keeps the watch with steadfast mien And waits the day the gods ordain The IV or Id s Desire hath no man seen. Envoy Princess, our waiting brings naught of gain, A down the turn of the winding lane Long tho we keep the watch, I ween The World s Desire hath no man seen. [26] CYNTHIA S BRIDAL My little one, the day is done, The maiden moon walks in the sky, And one by one, and one by one She lights the lamps on high. She mounts her silver throne, and now The clouds, a feigned bridal veil, She draws about her virgin brow As the star-tapers pale. For Cynthia waits the errant sun That lingers far away. My little one, the night is gone And in the East is day. Now, slim and virgin, from her throne Reluctantly she goes, And one by one, and one by one The stars are dimmed in rose. COLLEGE VERSE DEDICATION OF YALE VERSE [To my Mother] These idle songs of yesterday Must now the idle hours betray Of that brief unforgotten time Of primroses and bells a-chime, And hopes and fears too sweet to stay. So all of youth our roundelay ; No rapt heroics we essay, Nor to the clear cold heights may climb These idle songs. No ! of the valleys green and gay (Our caps and gowns a merry mime Of caps and bells) we make our rhyme ; Worthless ? Ah, that s for you to say, For whom were gathered by the way These idle songs. [30] HORACE IN NEW HAVEN I INTEGER VIT^E The man that promptly settles with the bursar Needs not a pull to win his way thro college, Nor need he heed $. B. K. s curse, or Envy her knowledge. Whether th inhospitable Welch receive him Or in South Middle dark his path and rough be, Still shall the dean,with gracious smile, believe him, Whate er his bluff be. For as I wandered to my room last Monday, Singing his praise who had my bill receipted, Fierce Mr. Hotchkiss, who had cut me Sunday, Pleasantly greeted. Throw me in White, in Farnam (which is worse), or Far in the halls remote of Pierson land me, The sweetly singing, sweetly smiling bursar Still shall command me. II PERSICOS GDI Boy, I detest these modern innovations, The Voice crusade may alter some men s habit, But, as for me, I ll stick to my old rations, Ale and a rarebit. In vino vis. The pious dames of Ipswich, Knowing its worth and fearing lest men waste it, Condemn its use in christening battleships, which Can t even taste it. Old Cato Major (and, no doubt, his wife, too), Found in Falernian, mixed with milder Massic, Courage which led him at his time of life, to Read the Greek classic. Yes, Cato drank, nor should we lightly damn a Man who, at eighty and without coercion, Mastered Liddell and Scott, and Hadley s grammar, My pet aversion. Elihu s ways, they say, are growing sinful, Crimes that are nameless are committed daily. Oscar ! my toby, and I ll sin a skinful, So to bed gaily. [32] BALLADE OF CHEESE AND BEER Of Bacchus still the poets sing, Silenus and the fruitful vine, And still their tuneful numbers ring With praises of the " rosy wine." Well, let them sing its charms divine And sound its praises far and near ; But O ! what hours were thine and mine With bread and cheese and lager beer ! Before my fire s flame the swing And dart of shadowy design On hearth and wall would dance and swing, Fantastic shapes to intertwine In forms grotesque, and so combine That none retained its outline clear And we before the blazing pine With bread and cheese and lager beer ! And as they mingled, so the sting Of many failures, the decline Of hopeful purposes that bring Fresh courage in their train, benign Gambrinus touched, and in that sign We saw again our pathway clear, And worshiped long at Friendship s shrine With bread and cheese and lager beer! [33] Envoy O friend ! whatever joys be thine, Nor wealth nor glory can outshine Those days when Friendship was our cheer With bread and cheese and lager beer ! [34] WITH PIPE AND BOOK With pipe and book, an old arm-chair, A glowing hearth, what need I care For empty honors, wealth or fame ? Grant me but this ; an honest name, A cup of ale, a coat to wear. And then, while smoke-wreaths rift the air, The banquet of the gods I share, Content to sit before the flame With pipe and book. Above the city s noisy glare, Yet sweet, tho humble, is my fare ; For changing not from praise to blame, These faithful friends are still the same No earthly comforts can compare With pipe and book. [35] TO H. A. B. The ways of Yale are changed, I trow, Since you lived in the Old Brick Row ; The worn old fence is gone, and few The faces that you loved and knew, The good old days have altered so. Of course the old fence had to go ; " tfhe college must have room to grow. 11 But merry yet and strong and true The ways of Yale. mutatur yes ! but tho A new Yale greets each winter s snow We still are loyal to the blue You to the old, I to the new, For each has learned to love and know The ways of Yale. [36] BRAVE MOTHER YALE Fairer than love of woman, Stronger than pride of gold, Stands, nor shall fail, love for old Yale, Mother of love untold. " Mother of love " proudly we call thee Singing together adown the long line, Light from above ever befall thee ! Hear thou and cheer thou the hearts that are thine. Far down the march of ages, Near to the goal at last, Brighter the haze of coming days Than all the storied past. Brave Mother Tale, wondrous the story JVrit in the living rock, aye to endure. On to the goal, from glory to glory, Sure be thy tread, and our loyalty sure. Beacon of truth uplifted, Set in the Northern Sea, While yet they live, thy sons shall give Honour and love to thee. Star of our hopes, shine on forever ! Nought can the calm of thy radiance pale. Guarding thee still, failing thee never, Still shall we love our brave mother, old Tale. [37] ENVOY OF "YALE VERSE" [To S. R. K.] The golden days that will not come again : Battell rings out its call, yet I remain ; Your fire is whitening fast, as on the sill I knock my ashes out and hear the chill, Unending fall of the New Haven rain Beat noisily against your window pane. We heed it not : our castles are in Spain, And dreams of conquest worth the winning fill The golden days. They come not back to us ; that happy train Of dreams has vanished with their dear domain, Yet have they left their benison, for still The selfsame sympathy for good or ill Is ours to-day, although we seek in vain The golden days. TRANSLATIONS AD VENEREM [Horace, Book III, Ode Thy soldier once, O Love ! was I, And in that service thought to die, For not without success I warred, In many a blissful battle scarred. But now I lay my lyre by Before whose soft artillery Was each resisting door unbarred ; Thy statue shall my armour guard, Thy soldier once. In snowless Memphis set on high, O Cypris ! hearken to my cry : Let thine all-loving heart be hard To Chloe, if thou dost regard His prayer, who was ah ! she knows why Thy soldier once. [42] THE EPITAPH IN FORM OF A BALLADE \Which Master Frangois Villon made for himself and five of his companions, expecting to be hanged along with theml\ Nor hate nor scorn shall be our meed to-day, Stretched black against the faint gray-golden sky, Heedless of all ungenerous ye may say, Helpless we hang, helpless to make reply. Rather in love and sorrow shall ye cry To Him that hung for all men on the tree, And crave, ere that ye also come to die, God, of His grace, forgive both us and thee. Not all may tread the road of right alway, Not all the primrose path of pleasure fly ; The greater need then, brother man, to pray The greater wrong compassion to deny. Our joys are spent ; equal we all hang high ; All undeserving raise we now our plea, Whose dolorous death doth justice justify, God, of His grace, forgive both us and thee. And now the wind shall have us for his play, The driving rain shall blanch, the sun shall dry, The while in swinging chains aloft we sway, Grim warning to the lowly passerby ; [43] But ye, that life and laughter glorify Ye, that to-day hold love and lands in fee Ye, that in pride, sorrow and death defy God y of His grace, forgive both us and thee. Envoy Prince Christ, in this brief hour of death be nigh ! Thou that did st live and die for such as we And ye, that Him again do crucify, of His grace, forgive both us and thee. [44] BALLADE [tfhat Dillon wrote for Ms mother, -when that she was about to die, wherewith to do her homage to Our Lady. ] O Lady-Queen of sea and earth and air, Empress of all the darksome swamps of Hell, Now at the end of the long path I fare Receive thine humble worshipper to dwell Within the gates of thine own citadel. Thou art so great ! Sinful and weak am I ; Yet shalt thy grace my poor faith justify, Grace that alone all sinners ransometh Of them that cry to thee. Hear thou my cry, For this shall be my faith in life and death. To thy dear Son that I am His declare, Whose birth and death did all my debt dispel As when in Egypt Mary s load of care He turned to joy, as his to whom befell Thine absolution, tho* (for so men tell) He to the fiend in bondage long did lie. So cleanse me thou, of whose virginity Was born our Lord whose blood delivereth From sin, nor thy poor handmaid now deny, For this shall be my prayer in life and death. [45] A poor old simple wife am I, that ne er A single letter of them all know well, Of little worth ; yet, at the Mass, whene er I follow at the call of Sabbath bell, My heart with hope of Heaven s joy doth swell And then in fear I think that Hell is nigh. Grant thou the joy to me, whose soul doth sigh For rest and peace, who with my parting breath With all that sin on thy dear love rely, For this shall be my faith in life and death. Envoy O virgin Princess, bright beyond compare, Thou didst the Christ our Lord Eternal bare. The Prince of Paradise, of God the heir, Our Father s love to us that witnesseth, Grant me a crown of life with Him to wear And in the House of Heaven to have a share, For this shall be my faith in life and death. [46] BALLADE OF THE MIDNIGHT FOREST [After Theodore de Banvitle] The woodland nymphs, the mocking fauns still sing Neath thorn and holly as in time gone by ; Still in the cool west wind the branches swing, And Dian, wandering free, may still espy The lean wolves startling at the Huntress cry. The shepherds cots, men say, her rite still know When silver stars awaking soft and slow Join with the crescent moon their paler light To glorify the silent fields below, And Dian threads the shadows of the night. Cress-wreathed, their golden heads all shimmering, In mystic measures still the nixies vie All-fain, half-fearful of discovering Where the red dwarf, the wild red dwarf, doth lie, The fairies foe, the dryad s enemy, Half in delight and half in dread ; when lo ! The Virgin Goddess comes in robe of snow, Smiles sad, and as she sees their swift affright, Breathes one swift sigh for summers long ago, And Dian threads the shadows of the night. [47] Her sylvan spoils her nymphs attendant bring : The shrilling sob of startled stags that fly, Blends with the bay of ban-dogs following. And she, exulting in her archery, Steals shining shafts from out the star-lit sky And speeds them from the silver of her bow. Loose on the western wind her long locks flow Unbound, a golden aureole blown bright About her brow, with eagerness aglow, And Dion threads the shadows of the night. Envoy Prince, leave the shame and splendour, wealth and woe The gloom and glamour of the town, for Oh ! A fairer land is spread for our delight, Where forest-fern and fount their peace bestow, And Dian threads the shadows of the night. c fh s book was arranged for the press by W. A. Bradley New Tork 1902 r U.C.BERKELEY LIBRARIES 863755 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA UBRARY