m 
 
 m
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES 
 
 m
 
 ATHELNEY AND OTHER 
 POEMS.
 
 ATHELNEY 
 
 anD otftec IPoems. 
 
 BY 
 
 ELIZA DOWN. 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 GEORGE BELL AND SONS, YORK STREET, 
 
 COVENT GARDEN. 
 
 1884.
 
 CHISWICK press: — C. WHITTINGHAM AND CO., TOOKS COURT, 
 CHANCERY LANE.
 
 
 TO 
 
 W. F. ROCK, ESQ., 
 
 OF HYDE CLIFF, BLACKHEATH, 
 
 TO WHOSE KINDNESS THE WRITER IS GREATLY INDEBTED, 
 
 Cfiie l^olume 
 
 IS INSCRIBED WITH SENTIMENTS OF SINCERE 
 GRATITUDE AND ESTEEM. 
 
 Torrington, August, 1884. 
 
 9607C2
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 THELNEY i 
 
 Easter Day 53 
 
 Garfield 57 
 
 Lines on theDeath ofthe Princess Alice 61 
 
 The Oi d Year and the New 64 
 
 Life 
 
 67 
 
 Lines ON THE Opening OF Rock Park 70 
 
 The Cup of Tears 74 
 
 Lines on Mr. Gladstone's Visit to Leeds .... 77 
 
 The Long Ago 80 
 
 With a Cross of Wild Flowers 84 
 
 A Summer Song 88 
 
 To a Butterfly 90 
 
 The River 93 
 
 May Morning 95 
 
 The Cold Grey Sea 97 
 
 Thy King cometh unto Thee 100 
 
 Redemption 102 
 
 The Voice from Heaven 104 
 
 Elim 106
 
 viii CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Forgiveness io8 
 
 In Memoriam no 
 
 My Song "2 
 
 The Lily OF the Vale 114 
 
 To THE Snowdrop 117 
 
 The Throstle "9 
 
 To W. F. R 121 
 
 Self-Sacrifice 124
 
 ATHELNEY. 
 
 PART I. 
 
 ING ALFRED came from battle, with his 
 
 thanes 
 To Chippenham ; where stayed that day 
 the Queen 
 Alswitha, guarded of a few, that yet 
 Clave to their lord the King, when all his best 
 Forsook him. He had passed in arms, to meet 
 The heathen lances, counting scarce a tithe 
 Their number, and returned with scarce a tithe 
 Of those he led to battle. 
 
 The grey day 
 Was near its close, but ere its sun, which then,^ 
 Wheeled on the lowest pathway of the year. 
 Sank into darkness, his great shield-like orb 
 
 B
 
 2 ATHELNEY, 
 
 Burned with an angry glare, beneath a pile 
 Of granite clouds, dark as great boulders strewn 
 Upon some rugged coast, washed by stern seas, 
 And kindling them, shot high above their ridge 
 Great tongues of flame, as if the sulphurous bowels 
 Of some fierce Etna heaved their vomit up, 
 Splattering the heavens with fire. And Avon, looped 
 About the old vill of the Saxon kings. 
 Incarnadined beneath that lurid sky, 
 And ran blood-red ; dark as the streams which flowed 
 From the great wine-press of the wrath of God, 
 Seen by the Seer of Patmos, the red blood 
 Of the great grapes of the earth's vine, full-ripe, 
 Trodden in the press, which flowed far out and deep. 
 Reaching e'en to the bridles of the horse 
 Of vision.^ 
 
 So the sullen heavens, fire-flushed 
 With that wild sunset, cast their glare on tower 
 And gate, as Alfred entered Chippenham, 
 Returning from the fatal battle-field. 
 Then said the King : " This kingdom which I raised 
 From out its ruins,^ falls this hour again
 
 ATHELNEY. '3 
 
 To ruin, and the bestial lives in man, 
 
 And everywhere the heathen works his will ! " 
 
 And when the night darkened with heavy shades 
 
 The ancient vill. King Alfred called to him 
 
 His servant Ethelnoth,'' and gave him charge 
 
 To lead the Queen to some secure retreat ; 
 
 Where hidden from the heathen, she might dwell 
 
 In secrecy, attended of a few. 
 
 The tried retainers of his house. " Arise, 
 
 Haste on your journey," said the King, " and when 
 
 Your business is accomplished come to me 
 
 Within the woods of Somerset whither I go 
 
 To seek a refuge from mine enemies." 
 
 So gave command the King, whereat the group 
 
 Of trembling women, huddled round the Queen, 
 
 Lifted their voice, and wept aloud ; but she, 
 
 Like some great grandeur of the antique stone, 
 
 A sculptured Pallas or Minerva, stood 
 
 In utter stillness, mute and motionless : 
 
 Only the blood-red rubies on her breast 
 
 Flashed with a sudden throbbing of the heart.
 
 4 ATHELNEY. 
 
 Betraying her emotion ; and the King 
 Turned, and his eyes were full of heavy tears, 
 Ready to fall, as he addressed his thanes : 
 " The hour is bitter, but we needs must bend 
 To that high Will which shapes our destiny. 
 Despair not wholly ; though I go from hence 
 To solitary sojourn in the wilds, 
 Yet have I hope to raise my arm once more 
 Against the troublers of my country's peace, 
 Those that have wrought this ruin; Ye, my thanes. 
 Slack not endeavour, bate no jot of faith, 
 Fulfil your part, I mine. Ah, noble thanes, 
 Think of that field of Ashdune,'^ where we strove. 
 Until we threw the northern kings, and like 
 A mountain torrent smitten into mists 
 Upon the jutty points of mighty rocks. 
 Headlong they fled. So will we fight again. 
 And heave and oust these pagans. Now farewell, 
 Farewell, keep you my charge religiously. 
 As ye shall answer in that dreadful hour 
 When we shall stand at feet of the High God, 
 To give account each of himself to God."
 
 ATHELNEY. 5 
 
 So spake the King, and added not, but turned 
 
 Toward the silent Queen. And Ethehioth, 
 
 Passing from out the hall, said to a thane 
 
 That went with him, " Mark the King's countenance ! 
 
 Know I have seen him throned within this hall, 
 
 Delivering his judgments to his poor,^ 
 
 And thought him grand, but never saw him grand 
 
 As now." 
 
 And Alfred took within his hands, 
 Alswitha's hands, his wife, and tenderly 
 Kissed them, but spoke no word, nor she to him. 
 Only her glorious eyes, suddenly raised. 
 Shed into his their effluence, pure light 
 Of the clear spirit. . Thus awhile they stood 
 A little moment, and then slowly drew 
 Their hands asunder, and so turned to part, 
 Ending their silent farewell. 
 
 Then drew near 
 The weeping women of the Queen and brought 
 The two fair children of Alswitha,^ whom 
 The King, their father, took within his arms 
 And kissed, and blessed ; and when the brief and sad
 
 6 ATHELNEY. 
 
 Caress was ended, the pale Queen arose, 
 And leading the young children by the hand 
 Passed forth, her maidens following her steps, 
 And thence in care of Ethelnoth the Earl, 
 With a small band of chosen men for guard, 
 Departed. 
 
 And the servants of the King 
 Went each his way according as he bade, 
 And after them the King went forth alone. 
 And to the woody wilds of Somerset 
 Repairing, there within the solitudes 
 Made his abode in secret. 
 
 And the Jarls 
 Who led the Danish army came, and seized 
 The vill of Chippenham, making their camp 
 Where Alfred dwelt, and from the ruined halls 
 Of the West Saxon ruler issuing, spread 
 Ruin around. The bands of ancient law 
 Were loosed, and everywhere in all the realm 
 Th' anarchic heads of violence raised themselves 
 Unsmitten. The vexed land groaned with its woes. 
 And desolate and trodden down, unkinged,
 
 ATHELNEY. ; 
 
 Unpeopled, and dismantled of its forts, 
 Lay at the mercy of the heathen foe. 
 
 ***** 
 Belted with the impenetrable woods, 
 Near to the mingling of the rivers Thone 
 And Parret, lay a marshy island, grown 
 With alder and with willow ; all about, 
 A hundred oozy streams went meandering, 
 Knotted around the place like a thick coil 
 Of snakelings. Thither the unsceptred King, 
 Fleeing his enemies, had come, and there 
 Sheltered unknown within a neat-herd's house. 
 Hiding his kinghood 'neath a peasant's garb. 
 And as a peasant working with his hands 
 Gave service to the man beneath whose roof 
 He lodged. 
 
 And when Earl Ethelnoth had brought 
 The Queen Alswitha on her way, he came 
 To seek his lord, as he had bidden him 
 Within the ancient forest. 
 
 A hoar gloom 
 Enwrapped the labyrinthic paths, o'er-hung
 
 8 ATHELNEY. 
 
 With boughs of lichened trees, oaks gaunt and grey, 
 Whose rungs of root made rough the ground below. 
 The wintry noon within those doleful shades 
 Was as the twilight wan. Deep silence reigned. 
 Save for a solitary heron's cry, 
 Or the shrill note of the wild fowl that rose 
 From reedy margin of the sluggish streams, 
 Scared by th' intruder's step. 
 
 And Ethelnoth 
 Came to the morass-compassed isle, since named 
 As Athelney, where in the neat-herd's house 
 The King lay hidden ; 'mid the great dark coils 
 Of slowly-flowing water the lone isle, 
 Covered with rankest woody growth, stretched wide. 
 Bare of all sign of habitation save 
 A solitary cottage in the midst. 
 The forester's abode, which on a slope 
 Of rising ground appeared, with a dark cirque 
 Of rugged trees behind. Toward this the Earl 
 Directed then his steps, but ere he passed 
 The oozy shallows where the rushes spread 
 Their yellow tufts, meshed with the long marsh-grass
 
 ATHELNEY. 9 
 
 That waved above the stream, beheld far off 
 
 A nian advancing from the thicket side, 
 
 With heavy axe across his shoulder slung, 
 
 A churl or woodman, such the rustic dress 
 
 Proclaimed him, but more nearly viewed, his form, 
 
 Warlike and princely, proved him other far 
 
 Than that he seemed ; and Ethelnoth strait knew 
 
 Under the veil of lowlihood the King, 
 
 His master. " Ah, my lord Alfred," he said. 
 
 Now near approached, " to meet you here and thus. 
 
 Brings to mine eyes th' unusual tears ! " He knelt, 
 
 And reverent kissed his royal master's hand, 
 
 And flashing into passionate speech : " O King, 
 
 Who in thy time of trouble hast put on 
 
 The likeness of a servant, thou shalt yet 
 
 Stand in thy proper greatness, lord of men. 
 
 And put thy feet upon thine enemies' necks ! " 
 
 Then he who had borne rule in England said : 
 
 " Most king, most servant ; dream not thou, O Earl, 
 
 Of any lordship else for us, save that 
 
 Which largeliest wears the form of service." " Sire,"
 
 lO ATHELNEY. 
 
 The Ealdor made reply-, " servant or lord, 
 Even as it pleases you to name yourself, 
 Yet shall, my liege, in happier days to come. 
 The worship of your people compass you, 
 As the great heavens encircle earth, who now 
 Are throneless, homeless, friendless ! " 
 
 Then the Earl 
 Told how he had fulfilled his charge, and led 
 The Queen his lady, and the princely babes 
 Her children, to the appointed bourne, their place 
 Of hiding. 
 
 " Thanks," said Alfred. " O my friend, 
 You crown the perfect service of past years 
 With this most perfect act of service now 
 To my beloved ones." 
 
 " Sire, my gentle liege. 
 My dearest services have even been 
 But mean interpreters of the great love 
 I bear you." 
 
 Then to him, Alfred the king : 
 " What of my kingdom's fate, O earl ? The Danes 
 Have seized our vill of Chippenham." " Ay, King,
 
 ATHELNEY. 1 1 
 
 And settle there, thick as the loathsome swarm 
 
 Of frogs the Seer's uplifted rod of old 
 
 Brought on the land of Pharaoh, when they croaked 
 
 And leaped in Egypt's ancient palaces, 
 
 And on the altars of her idols. Thick ! 
 
 They are everywhere ; you cannot move for them, 
 
 They fill the land ! " 
 
 Low on the fallen trunk 
 Of an old tree that stretched along the ground 
 They sat and talked, the Ealdor and the King ; 
 And in the silence of the sombre day 
 Was heard the raven flapping on the wing, 
 And the low plashing of the sullen streams, 
 All shagged with sedge about their borders. " See," 
 Said Alfred, " mark this spot, moated and fossed 
 By Nature's hand. No meeter site can be 
 For a rude fort ; impregnably girt 
 With these thick woods, a few brave men might here 
 Hold out against great thousands. Go thou, Earl, 
 And bid my thanes they hither come to me. 
 Protected by these woody covertures 
 Here will we dwell, until I draw the sword
 
 12 ATHELNEY. 
 
 From out the scabbard yet once more, to smite 
 These heathen ravagers. Go now thy ways, 
 Watch what is doing of the enemy, 
 And bring me tidings speedily ; farewell." 
 
 So parted they, there in the desolate woods, — 
 The Earl retraced the gloomy forest paths, 
 And Alfred turned again to his abode 
 Within the marsh-bound isle. 
 
 There did the King 
 Tarry unknown, the circle of a moon. 
 From the thin crescent pale, orbed in its course. 
 To the broad shield, and then the lessened disc 
 Nightly diminished, nor disclosed himself 
 To them with whom he dwelt, so did it chance. 
 The woodman's wife ^ looked on him as her thrall, 
 Not weening of his hidden majesty, 
 And he full patiently, used to command. 
 Humbled him to obey, nor grudged to do 
 The menial task. Yet did they blindly feel, 
 The uncouth forester and his rude wife, 
 A sort of greatness in the man they housed.
 
 ATHELNEY. 1 3 
 
 And looking on the grandeur of the brow, 
 Shadowed with sorrow, marvelled in their hearts, 
 But did not shape their wonder into words, 
 To question him. 
 
 And Ethelnoth, the earl, 
 Returned, and with him came a little band. 
 The remnant of the King's devoted thanes. 
 They with their lord, within the forest heart, 
 Made their abode, and gave him service true. 
 Thence from their secret hold he led them forth. 
 And smiting oft the spearmen of the Danes, 
 Roving in scattered bands, drew back again 
 To covert. On the borders of the isle 
 Of Athelney, upon a crag ^ whose base 
 The waters washed where they conjoined, the Thone 
 And Parret, was a fort erected by 
 The King's retainers, rudely built but strong, 
 Enribbed with solid bars of ancient oak. 
 Therein they tarried, save when they went forth 
 To seek the wild boar in his native haunts. 
 Or antlered elk, or from the rushing streams 
 To draw the finny prey.
 
 14 \ ATHELNEY. 
 
 \ 
 
 ^ The winter now 
 
 Began to loose his icy chains, and let 
 
 The genial ray enpierce the folding gloom, 
 
 Even to the reedy marge of the grey pool 
 
 Where in the loneliness the bittern built 
 
 Her nest in season, undisturbed of man. 
 
 Down in the hollows the brown-fronded ferns 
 
 Softly uncurled, but yet the lively shoot 
 
 Delayed upon the bough, and all the wood 
 
 Still stood unvestured. 
 
 At this time was brought 
 
 To the King's camp the tidings of a fight 
 
 Waged on the coast of Devon, where the sea 
 
 Rolls its grey waves upon the pebbly belt 
 
 That zones the fertile vales. Hubba the Dane 
 
 With many a warlike craft did thither come. 
 
 But did not thence return, for he and his 
 
 Fell fighting by the shore, slain by the men 
 
 Of Odune, the brave Devon earl.^" 
 
 Meanwhile, 
 
 Wary and watchful of the chance to strike 
 
 Some heavier blow against his enemies,
 
 ATHELNEY. 1$ 
 
 King Alfred tarried, dwelling in the wilds. 
 
 Nor all unfruitful was that quiet life 
 
 Of kingly purpose, or of highest act 
 
 Of kinghood ; and the thanes that cleaved to him, 
 
 Reverenced the more the crownless King, for that 
 
 He bore his glory in himself alone. 
 
 And much was nobly planned : the prescient thought 
 
 Of the great Saxon ruler did shape out 
 
 Clearer the form of that which was to be, — 
 
 The powerful polity, broad-based on law ; — 
 
 The kingdom which should stand, rock-like in strength 
 
 Resistive ; — the enfranchised people, great, 
 
 And climbing still to greatness 1 
 
 So the days 
 Of winter slid into the early spring. 
 
 PART II. 
 
 The raven-flag was waving in the wind 
 Above the tent, where sat the Danish chiefs, 
 Gothrun and Oskel," with their spearmen bold 
 Carousing, when a way-worn minstrel came
 
 1 6 ATHELNEY. 
 
 Beseeching leave to play to them for hire. 
 
 " Saxon am I," said he unto the Jarls. 
 
 " Once in my country's halls my harp and song 
 
 Were welcome, now the minstrel's art is vain, 
 
 And as a phantom in a lonely land 
 
 I wander aimlessly." Gothrun the Jarl, 
 
 Sat on the high-raised seat, massive of form ; 
 
 And on the granite of his brow were scars 
 
 Of many a fight. A viking true was he. 
 
 With locks loose-flowing like a lion's mane, 
 
 Tawny of hue. In symbol of his rank 
 
 Around his mighty-columned throat was wreathed 
 
 The golden torque, in long entwisted links. 
 
 Turning from him who sat his fellow there, 
 
 The aged warrior Oskel, to the bard 
 
 Before him, " Sing," he said, " it pleases us. 
 
 Set down thine harp, O Angle ! Fill yon horn, — 
 
 The large one,— thou art welcome ; drink, then sing. 
 
 Possess ye songs framed in your native speech ? " 
 
 " Ay, chief: no people under the wide heavens 
 
 But have their songs. Speech hath its roots in song,
 
 ATHELNEY. 1/ 
 
 And evermore climbs upward into song, 
 Flowering in golden words." Jarl Oskel said, 
 " Strike the chords, chant a battle-lay, O scald ! " 
 But Gothrun : " Rather sing to us your gods, 
 How in the prime of days they made the world, 
 If handiwork of theirs it be." 
 
 " One God 
 We worship. Him who did create of old 
 The earth and starry heavens. Listen a song 
 Of Cadmon,^^ our sweet singer, he who first 
 Of Saxons sung, how to the harps of God 
 This goodly structure of the universe 
 Came forth of chaos. When th' immortal King 
 Surveyed the void, where sun nor star was not, 
 Nor blade of living green, then bade He rise 
 This ordered world with all its beauteous forms. 
 Six days the creatorial word went forth, 
 Till earth, en-wombed in darkness at the first. 
 Emerged, and canopied with radiant heavens. 
 Stood with its complete tribes, and set thereon 
 The crown of creatures — man, in lineaments 
 Divinely fair, wearing the print of God !
 
 1 8 ATHELNEY. 
 
 Thou mad'st the sun, Creator Infinite, 
 
 And Thou the Hly and the rose ! Yea all 
 
 Is Thine ; completed thought of Thine own mind, 
 
 Not piece-meal, but a living unity, 
 
 Work of one will ! " 
 
 Then interrupting him, 
 The Danes said, "Ay; so you may say, but we 
 Not so believe. The ^Esir made the world, 
 Our gods : three were they, Odin, ViH, Ve. 
 They slew the giant Ymir, he who dwelt 
 In the frost-realms, and of his bones they made 
 All things that be. The hills, the ribs of rocks. 
 The stones and pebbles. His great skull did frame 
 The over-arching skies, his brains the clouds. 
 And of the temples of the mighty head. 
 The skilful gods fashioned a dwelling place, 
 Suited for men, Mid-gard, they named it." 
 
 " Whence came ? " 
 The Saxon asked, "Whence do ye say he came, 
 Your giant Ymir ? " One of the great Jarls 
 Made answer, " Harper, our old sagas teach, 
 That ages long ago, periods of time
 
 ATHELNEY. 19 
 
 Beyond all count, matter existed, crude, 
 Unshapen, and the giants of fire and frost, 
 Coeval lived, and strove together, fierce, 
 Anarchic, till the man-Hke god arose, 
 Our Odin, he who with his brethren joined 
 Fashioned the world as now we see it. The three, 
 The sons of Bor, with cunning fingers carved 
 Of an ash branch a human pair, the first, 
 And gave to them life, reason, speech ; our tale 
 Seems good to us, each people to its faith, 
 Yours doubtless seemeth good to you. Go on. 
 Let us hear more." 
 
 Commanded thus, he touched 
 The strings, and gave the sequel of the song 
 Loved of the Saxons. And the minstrel sang 
 Of that fair garden planted of high God 
 Eastward in Eden, in whose bowers 
 They dwelt, who were the first of human-kind. 
 And of the sovereign tree set in the midst. 
 Bearing the fruit of life, and that near by 
 Mysterious and forbid their use, but they, 
 Beguiled by fraud, transgressed His sole command.
 
 20 ATHELNEY. 
 
 Who freely gave Nature's large bounty else. . 
 Thus sinned, and sinning brought death and all ills 
 Upon their race ; and so the wondrous dust, 
 Built into likeness of the Deity, 
 Became as other dust, and like to it, 
 Touched of the finger of corruption. Hail 
 To thee Restorer, Thou the promised One, 
 The woman's seed, who shalt arise to bruise 
 The Destroyer ! " 
 
 Then said Gothrun : "Stay, O scald, 
 Stay in your song a little, tell me this, — 
 Have you not a god who died and rose again ? 
 We too have our dead god,'^ hymned by our scalds, — 
 Who shall arise hereafter from deep hell. 
 Grand as the sun in the Norwegian heavens. 
 Stupendous, huge, with coronal of flame 
 Ascending, after the long half-year night 
 Of winter. Say, can your god equal ours ; 
 Can ye tell of an ascension so sublime ? " 
 
 " Were it the truth, it were indeed sublime. 
 But do you count it true, O noble Dane,
 
 ATHELNEY. 21 
 
 For who amongst your people hath beheld 
 ' Baldur, the son of light ? " 
 
 Thereat a roar 
 Of voices rose, " Thor, Thor ! Baldur and Thor ! 
 No gods like ours ! He hath traduced our gods ! " 
 But Gothrun saying, " Peace ; I bade him speak 
 Freely," stilled them, and the wild tumult ceased. 
 But with hoarse mutterings as the vexed sea 
 Chafes in her surges after tempest passed. 
 
 Again the viking questioned : " Know you aught 
 
 As grand as that uprising of our god, 
 
 Baldur the sun-browed, from th' abodes of death ? " 
 
 " Ay, chief : for that sublimity of life 
 
 The Christian peoples hold in reverence, 
 
 Is a proved verity. Our Holy One 
 
 Hath walked with men on earth, in sight of men 
 
 Died, and thereafter rose from out the tomb. 
 
 And in the sight of men ascended Heaven, 
 
 His throne of glory." 
 
 The Jarl shook his head. 
 " We think you fable : what did he, your god ?
 
 22 ATHELNEY. 
 
 Was He strong in battle, was His raised right arm 
 
 Invincible to slay His enemies ? " 
 
 " Not so ! He healed the sick and raised the 
 
 dead, 
 And taught men wisdom, for He came to help. 
 Not to destroy. He did the things that one, 
 A God, who was creator of the world 
 And loved it, coming into it would do, — 
 Works of beneficence." 
 
 Gothrun spoke not, 
 But drawing lower o'er the deep-set eyes 
 The wrinkles of his heavy brows, he leant 
 Upon the carven arm of the great chair 
 Whereon he sat. "O scald," he said, at length, 
 " Magnificent in strength is our great Thor, 
 Whose mace doth rive the northern hills 
 To their foundations, loaden with their pines ; 
 But ye account your mightiest to be great. 
 Simply because He loved, and did men good. 
 Perchance ye reason justly, but to us 
 It seemeth strange. Enough ; tarry, O scald, 
 I will reward thy pains j thou playest well.
 
 ATHELNEY. 23 
 
 Thou shalt sing to me when I am in mood 
 A war-song of thy people's. 
 
 Set thine harp 
 Aside, go find thyself a couch and sleep, 
 At leisure I will further talk with thee 
 O minstrel of the Angles ! " Turning then, 
 Addressed his captains : " See the watch be set. 
 And bid three hundred of my stoutest spears 
 Be ready by the dawn to ride with me 
 On foray. Soldiers, to a soldier's rest ! 
 Bid that the bugles sound at break of day." 
 So spake the chief, and rising passed within 
 The inner tent, and silence presently 
 Fell on the camp. 
 
 And so it came to pass, 
 The Saxon minstrel tarried with the Danes, 
 Of them made welcome : unrestrained he moved 
 At will amongst them, looked with curious eyes 
 Upon their ways, questioned of many things, 
 And when Jarl Gothrun and his men were pleased. 
 Sang to them as they sat at feast. The space 
 Of seven days he stayed, then prayed, " O chief.
 
 24 ATHELNEY. 
 
 Now let me take my harp and go my way." 
 
 But Gothrun : " Wherefore wilt thou go ? remain. 
 
 We have lately lost our scald, a goodly one, 
 
 Excellent sooth to troll a wassail song, 
 
 Or chant a lay to fire the blood i' the veins, 
 
 When the war-barques lock on the rolling wave. 
 
 Thou art not such as he, but good ; remain." 
 
 " No," said the minstrel, " no, it may not be," — 
 
 They were alone, Gothrun and he — " Nay chief. 
 
 Seek not to hinder me : perchance my heart 
 
 Is heavy for my country's woes. O Jarl, 
 
 I have beheld the peasants' cot, at morn. 
 
 Embowered with vines, amid the harvest fields ; 
 
 Have passed at eventide, and seen it he 
 
 A heap of smouldering ruins, with charred ribs 
 
 Of rafters blackening 'gainst the deep blue sky. 
 
 The hapless peasant slain at his own gates, 
 
 All beaten into bloody pulp ; have seen 
 
 The mother lying dead beside the way. 
 
 Her living infant clinging to her breast, 
 
 Dappling its innocent hands with blood. Such sights 
 
 Have seared themselves into my brain, and oft
 
 ATHELNEY. 2$ 
 
 A passion of great sorrow sways my soul, 
 Like a tempestuous wind, that all night long, 
 In some lone wood doth bend the trees one way. 
 I asked of thee for bread, thou gavest it 
 With open hand ; so far my thanks." 
 
 " O bard," 
 Said Gothrun, " minstrel, I at least know thou, 
 War not with babes and women ! Go thy way, 
 Thine heart is not with us, but stay this night 
 And sing once more a song which pleased me well, 
 The Phoenix." '' 
 
 So the minstrel sang to them 
 How the majestic bird, sole of its kind 
 In all the universe, the native birth 
 Of deserts vast of ancient Araby, 
 Soared in grand flight, lived out its century life, 
 Then died, in nest of spicery, self-fired. 
 Yet ever from the fragrant flame arose, 
 New plumed, and glorious, with enormous wing 
 Winnowing the blue sublime. 
 
 And they were pleased 
 Who heard, and with the haft struck on the board
 
 26 ATHELNEY. 
 
 In witness of their praise. 
 
 It fell by chance 
 After the banquet of that night, the Dane, 
 Gothrun, unrestful for the evil dreams 
 That troubled him, arose, and going forth 
 In the grey dawn before the camp awoke, 
 Passed where the bard reposed beside his harp. 
 The pensive lustre of the early light 
 Fell on the sleeper's brow, where clustered thick 
 Soft rings of curls, as on the hyacinth 
 Cluster the heavy buds. The viking marked 
 The mighty-moulded chest, bare of the robe 
 Which, loosened, flowed aside, the puissant arms 
 On which the curvbd muscle rose, the throat's 
 Graceful yet massive column : and thus paused 
 A moment. " He is grand of face, but sad ; 
 There's sleep upon the eyelids, but the hands 
 Are as a hunter's in the chase, or like 
 A warrior's in the fight, when the strong clutch 
 Is on the falchion. Now he stirs himself, — 
 He's murmuring — what is it he says ? Ha ! ' Out, 
 Out Angles ! ' Dreams he then of fighting ? the gods
 
 ATHELNEY. 2/ 
 
 O' thy people meant thee for a fighter, man, 
 
 And not the jingler of a thing of strings ! 
 
 No grander warrior truly in my ranks 
 
 Had he been bred to arms. He would not take 
 
 The gold I proffered him, but put it by ; 
 
 The man is great of soul." Thus mused the Jarl. 
 
 And when the sun was risen on the earth, 
 Though yet the dewy lids of sleepy flowers 
 Were weighed with orient drops, the minstrel rose, 
 And taking up his harp departed thence, 
 And they of Northland saw him not again. 
 
 ***** 
 Upon the borders of the forest, where 
 A fountain threw its crystal jets aloft, 
 Sprinkling with myriad drops the foliage massed 
 Around its mossy marge, Ethelnoth met 
 The King returned. " Dear prince, I did not think 
 To see thy face again." • And Alfred laughed 
 A merry laugh thereat. " Didst thou suppose 
 That Gothrun had us fast within his toils, 
 Because we tarried ? Oh, not so, we light
 
 28 ATHELNEY. 
 
 Upon our feet, you see. We're safe and sound." 
 
 Then by the fountain in the forest spake 
 
 King Alfred to his servant Ethelnoth : 
 
 " I needs must plough to the rough furrow's end, 
 
 Ay, though it lead even to hell's own mouth ! 
 
 Earl, I will go against the heathen now 
 
 To battle, howsoever terrible 
 
 The odds." And Ethelnoth made answer : " Sire, 
 
 Do as thou wilt. The sublime acts of men 
 
 Are touched with foolishness, but haply 'tis 
 
 A folly wiser than the wisdom of 
 
 The prudent. As thou purposest so do." 
 
 The lady Alswith dwelt in Athelney, 
 
 Sharing the toils and lowlihood of life 
 
 Of him she loved. In beauty like a queen. 
 
 Though unadorned, she moved, and pleasing showed, 
 
 In that antique simplicity ; more fair. 
 
 Beyond her graceful wont, though ever fair. 
 
 She came with gladness, in the first of days, 
 
 When the green leaf puts forth, and in the groves 
 
 The ring-dove's voice is heard ; hailed of the king,
 
 ATHELNEY. 29 
 
 And of his thanes with gladness, so abode 
 Within the lonely islet of the woods, 
 With her the Etheling, and the royal child, 
 Thereafter lady of the Mercians,'^ who 
 As such did kindle a proud light of fame, 
 And left a name, to live amongst the names 
 Of noble female rulers. 
 
 One sweet eve 
 Alswitha said to Alfred as they walked 
 Amid the bosky glades, " The noble soul 
 Suffering, makes noble and most beautiful, 
 Labour, grief, pain, and in its meekness has 
 A power divine, to turn the things of shame 
 To ministers of glory. You have done it. 
 And the lives of all men, learning this, shall be 
 Made richer and more beautiful thereby." 
 And Alfred answered her : " Thy words are true, 
 O sweet my Queen, albeit not true of me. 
 The lofty spirit sublimates grief, pain, 
 And is by these itself sublimed ; even so 
 The divine sonship did fulfil itself 
 Under obedience, and through grief, toil, pain.
 
 30 ATHELNEY. 
 
 Yea utter shame, acquired its perfectness ; 
 Highest of human lives." 
 
 Through dim arcades 
 Of forest trees they wandered, side by side. 
 The tender buds were greatening on the boughs, 
 And here and there the pale gold primrose peeped. 
 Or violet, half hidden in the grass, 
 Known by its scent the most. In sunny spots 
 Th' anemone appeared, or blue-bell raised 
 The slender stalk, with thickly clustered flowers. 
 And as they went they lingered oft to mark 
 The floral growth beside the way, and how 
 The fern, most delicate of things that God 
 Created delicate for beauty, spread 
 The graceful fan luxuriantly. Anon 
 They sate them down upon a mossy stone, 
 Beside a little rivulet that glid, 
 With soft slow pace, between the nodding sprays 
 Of drooping willow. " List," Alswitha said, 
 " Hark to the lovely warbling of the thrush, 
 In yonder copse of hazels ; how the notes 
 Rise swelling on the ear, gladsome and sweet ;
 
 ATHELNEY. 3 1 
 
 Thou knowest how we used to love it when 
 We wandered in the fields about our home 
 At Chippenham, then most when the white thorn 
 Came into blossom, and the winds of May 
 Impregned with fragrance. Often did we pause 
 To Hsten, charmed with the melodious notes. 
 At twilight, as we strayed along the banks. 
 Where the full Avon with his azure holds 
 A mirror to the woody fringe that hangs 
 Above his borders." 
 
 From the brooklet's side 
 Through the green solitudes they wended back ; 
 Yet paused a little on an upland's crest, 
 Where the thick curtain of the forest fell 
 Apart, and opened to a clearer view, 
 There stayed their steps awhile, for now the sun, 
 Dechned to the horizon's rim, shot forth 
 His fulgent rays, and lit the cloudy range 
 Of all the west with gorgeous splendour, stretched 
 Like some vast Pyrenees, whose masses heaped 
 Pile upon pile, tower up aloft their crags. 
 And from their broken and indented sides
 
 32 ATHELNEY. 
 
 Cast light and shade, the great dark frame of clouds 
 
 Appeared all-glorious, offering to the eye 
 
 Its varied vivid hues, and shapes immense, 
 
 Here silvered as with snow, there crimsoned deep. 
 
 Or dark with heavy purple, a vast scene 
 
 Of mingled parts, majestically spread 
 
 In mighty scope, and melting gradually 
 
 Into the far obscure of haze-like sky. 
 
 Which as a sea of faint pale emerald flowed 
 
 Immeasurable. 
 
 The lady Alswith said, 
 When at their lowly cottage door they stood, 
 " The ripeness of the time is come ; go forth 
 To battle, and the God of battles make 
 Thine arms triumphant ! " Then hand within hand. 
 Beneath the honeysuckle's bloomy sprays. 
 Between whose fragrant antlers the wild bees 
 Went in and out, sucking deliciousness. 
 They passed, silently, through the rustic porch 
 Into the low-roofed house. 
 
 Then did the king 
 Lead up his followers from their secret hold.
 
 ATHELNEY. 33 
 
 Through the dim forest paths, where the green earth 
 Was flashing into flowers, to Egbert's stone, 
 In Selwood, and set up his standard there. 
 Sounding the trump of war ; and at its voice 
 Many from out of Wilts and Somerset 
 Assembled armed, thence undelaying passed 
 The King and his, to Ethandune, where lay 
 The army of the North, posted in strength 
 Upon the pine-clad heights. Within the vale, 
 At base thereof, Alfred at night-fall camped. 
 With purpose to assail the enemy. 
 And from his seated hold dislodge him. Few, 
 Compared with the great host which stood opposed, 
 Were they with Alfred, but their hearts were true. 
 And with his handful of brave men, the King 
 Did set his face to meet the Northern chiefs 
 With all their strength. 
 
 When in the shadowy east 
 The first faint lines of light enlaced the clouds 
 With silver, the great horns, hoarse-voiced and deep, 
 Sounded the call to arms, and all the camp 
 Straightway was roused. The golden blazonry 
 
 D
 
 34 ATHELNEY. 
 
 Of the great dragon-standard of the King, 
 Lifted on high, streamed meteor-Hke i' the air 
 "Waving, while under ealdorman and thane, 
 The men of Wessex gathered in their ranks. 
 Marshalled in order. Then while the low sun 
 Begun to kindle in the misty east, 
 Rising above the shoulders of the hills, 
 Dark with their crest of pines, the sovereign Voice, 
 That led the arms of England gave command, 
 " Up and assail yon heathen host, that now 
 Haughty in pride doth hold th' adjacent heights. 
 Defying us ! " 
 
 But ere the soldiery, 
 Obedient to their kingly leader's word, 
 Formed into line of march, one of his thanes, 
 Standing by Alfred, lifting up his gaze, 
 Saw stretched athwart the deep auroral blue 
 A mass of clouds, whose mighty outlines limned 
 In opal tints a stately city, vast. 
 As 'twere a cluster of great towers of gold 
 Thronged on a mount, and girdled round with walls 
 Of perfect chrysoUte. This saw the thane,
 
 ATHELNEY. 35 
 
 And cried, " See yon bright vision in the east, 
 Like some majestic city which old bards 
 Did love to sing of ! " And Alfred saw it, 
 And pointed it his captains, saying, " See 
 Yon splendour ! " and the captains of his arms 
 Saw it and wondered, and the army all 
 Saw it and wondered.^" And a shout arose, 
 "A sign from heaven ! a potent augury 
 Of victory to be ! " And as they gazed, 
 Suddenly glowed the massy pile, a-blaze 
 About its base as if with liquid gold, 
 Jasper and amethyst, ruby, turquoise, 
 Jewels of all hues, then to the sight waxed 
 Paler, and fell away, and the clear sun 
 Rose in the sky full day. 
 
 And Alfred set 
 His battle in array, and forward moved, 
 Fronting the foe entrenched upon his hill. 
 In serried files, with wide-extended wings. 
 The Danes embattled stood, under their chiefs, 
 Gothrun and Oskel. Firm-enlocked and high 
 Their shield-wall, bristling all along the lines
 
 36 ATHELNEY. 
 
 With pointed lances ; mid-most waved their flag, 
 Bearing enwrought the emblematic bird 
 Of Odin, and about it stood their best, 
 Guarding it. Then, the while the stormful blast 
 Of martial music rose from the great pipes 
 Within the midst, the Saxon led his men 
 In sharpened phalanx forward in swift march, 
 And charged on the uplifted Danish shields, 
 Striving to sunder them, and cleave a way 
 Through that thick front of battle, but in vain, 
 For as a wall of granite rock they stood, 
 These of the North. Again did Alfred form 
 His shattered column, nor delayed, and now 
 Charging they burst the shield-wall, and poured in 
 Between th' opposing spears. 
 
 And with fierce cries 
 The battle roll'd along the hill, and surged 
 About its shaggy base, now here, now there. 
 The falchion smote on targe and helmed head, 
 And hurled with mightful hand, the war-axe gleamed, 
 Whirled swiftly through the air. Direful the strife ; 
 Prolonged all day, but Alfred at the last
 
 ATHELNEY. 37 
 
 Stood victor of the field, and looking o'er 
 
 Th' ensanguined vale, thick with its heaps of slain, 
 
 He saw no man opposing, but far off 
 
 The broken foe, fleeing toward his fort ; 
 
 While all the way was strewn with shivered arms, 
 
 Cast in wild flight ; and fallen in a heap. 
 
 The horse and rider lay, pierced by the shaft 
 
 Of the pursuer ere the hold was reached 
 
 Wherein the remnant of the vanquished Danes 
 
 Sought them a shelter. 
 
 Then descended night 
 With starry silences upon the world 
 And folding wings of quiet, and the noise 
 Of battle died away. 
 
 Unto the King 
 Spake the stout thanes of Wilts and Somerset : 
 " Now know we thee, victor and lord, sole king. 
 Who did not doubt before, thee lord and king. 
 Sole helper ; since before thy sword have fled 
 These, like the withered leaves before the wind. 
 When with his shears he cuts the forest locks 
 In wrathful mood ! "
 
 3o ATHELNEY. 
 
 Then sent the Danish chiefs 
 After the day of battle to the King 
 To sue for peace, which he accorded them, 
 Now supphant to his mercy, urging not 
 A conqueror's right, but claimed alone of them 
 The rendering of homage as his fiefs. 
 And the acceptance of the Christian faith 
 And of its sacred rites. 
 
 So at his feet 
 The heathen lay subdued, and all the land 
 Resounded with the gentle pipes of peace. 
 As from the camp at Ethandune, the king 
 Went up to take once more the regal seat 
 Of the old kings of Saxony. 
 
 Then sang 
 The spinning maidens, sitting at the wheel, 
 And in the orchards the young children played, 
 Knowing no fear. Beneath his blossoming vines, 
 The husbandman sat at the fall of eve 
 And with his neighbour talked. 
 
 Learning relumed 
 Her sacred light within her ancient schools,^''
 
 ATHELNEY. 39 
 
 And the fair arts entwined their gracious gifts, 
 And made symmetrical the social life, 
 Which, now the heads of riot were brought low, 
 Moved in accord to music of high law. 
 In stately order and befitting course. 
 
 PART III. 
 
 Alfred held court at Wedmore, and with him 
 Were the great ealdors of the land, his thanes 
 And ministers, who shared with him the weight 
 Of government, the pillars of his power. 
 Thither to the great Witan was to come 
 Upon the morrow, Gothrun the Danish Jarl, 
 And his chief captains, to declare themselves 
 Heathen no more, taking the solemn oaths 
 Of fealty to the King their over-lord, 
 Alfred of England,^^ who now stretched the rod 
 Over her four-fold princedoms. 
 
 When the pure 
 Clear pearl of dawning took on it, its first 
 Of crimson, flushing through the lucid depths
 
 40 ATHELNEY. 
 
 With rose-ensanguined light, the voice o' the trumps 
 
 From the great towers proclaimed th' auspicious day, 
 
 That was to crown the covenants of peace 
 
 With fair accomplishment. And Alfred passed 
 
 Attended by his train, to the high place 
 
 Of council, where the assembled senate sate 
 
 Awaiting him. A fillet of pure gold 
 
 About the brow expressed him king, nor less 
 
 The mantle of imperial purple dye, 
 
 Which from the shoulders broad flowed down as low 
 
 As to the foot ; and thither came to him 
 
 Gothrun and Oskel, and the men of war. 
 
 Their captains, and they did him homage. " Sire, 
 
 Bretwalda, we as princes under thee 
 
 Plenceforth abide, under what yoke of law 
 
 Thou puttest on us." " Rise," said Alfred, " Danes, 
 
 No longer foemen. Say, do you renounce 
 
 The ^sir, vainly named as deities, 
 
 To worship the one God, sole in the heavens. 
 
 Sole in the earth ? " And Gothrun answered : " Yea, 
 
 We do, we have out-grown the gods of stone. 
 
 We have out-worn the fables of our land.
 
 ATHELNEY. 4I 
 
 Or else we look behind the mask of myths, 
 To find a spirit and an essence, His, 
 Who made the sun, the moon, the stars." 
 
 Then said 
 Alfred the king : " O chiefs, do you indeed 
 Accept the lowly and most gentle Christ 
 For lord and master ? Have ye learned, O Danes, 
 To suffer is more glorious than to strive. 
 And man's true greatness as the Son of Heaven, 
 Lives in his uttermost obedience ? " " Ay," 
 The viking answered, " even so, O King." 
 
 Then the high Sovereign, lord of England, said : 
 " Behold, we give to you a grant of lands, 
 Champain, and fertile meadow, and green woods. 
 Skirted with noble rivers, in the east 
 Of Britain, there, O Danes, to plant yourselves 
 In peaceful settlement, beside the Celt 
 . And Angle. Prosper ye and thrive, build towns, 
 Make markets, over-bridge the rivers, clear 
 The forest, and drive out the wolf We think 
 The peace we consummate this day shall live
 
 42 ATHELNEY. 
 
 In its great issues, to the after-times, 
 
 Fruitful of good. Saxon," and Celt, and Dane, 
 
 We are the roots whereof perchance shall grow 
 
 A mighty people in the future ; one 
 
 In worship, laws, and speech ; that on the face 
 
 Of things to be shall sovereignly imprint 
 
 Their potent seal. This island of the west. 
 
 Laved by the silver seas, shall sit secure 
 
 In her own strength, and her majestic voice 
 
 Send forth through all the world, if we be true 
 
 Unto our destiny. There shall arise 
 
 In the far future, as I think, a state, 
 
 A noble common-weal, wealthy and free. 
 
 Engrafted into which, Celt, Saxon, Dane, 
 
 Shall be as one, and Christian ever, till 
 
 The seas shall cease to wash these rocky shores, 
 
 Or o'er our hills the free breath of the heavens 
 
 Blow in reviving gales." 
 
 So spake the King, 
 And ceasing, from the dais where he sate 
 Descended, and again the trumpets blew 
 In signal of rejoicing, as they passed
 
 ATHELNEY. 43 
 
 Toward the banquet hall. With summer flowers 
 
 And leafy branches of the forest, elm 
 
 And beech and silver-shining birch, were all 
 
 The carven pillars through its spacious breadth 
 
 Engarlanded, whilst the clear harp and lute 
 
 Gave festal music, soft as when the wind 
 
 Breathes amongst flowers, over some rosy bed 
 
 Fluting melodiously. Through the high gates 
 
 Enriched with sculptured ornament they passed, 
 
 Not without pomp, into the lofty hall 
 
 Where was prepared the feast. On the King's brows 
 
 Sat gladness, and his thanes rejoiced, nor less 
 
 On th' other side the warlike chiefs, who now 
 
 Enlinked themselves in amity with them 
 
 Of Alfred's household, and beyond those halls. 
 
 Where the great thanes made joy about their lord 
 
 Reposing from his wars, th' exultant shouts 
 
 Of a rejoicing multitude arose, 
 
 Making acclaim, in sound like to the roar 
 
 Of waters rushing o'er a rocky bed 
 
 Impetuously. 
 
 And to the banquet came
 
 44 ATHELNEY. 
 
 The queen Alswitha, and as the prime star, 
 Which rules the night, puts off her cloudy veil. 
 And walks in beauty through the astral skies, 
 She in her gracious loveliness appeared, 
 Showing undimmed the brow of majesty, 
 Partaker of her royal consort's joy, 
 Who in her former low estate with him 
 Had tasted poverty and bitter grief 
 
 The years went by ; and Alfred made his own 
 
 Grow to him like a vine most fruitful, whilst 
 
 The terror of his name fell on his foes, 
 
 And made them quail. At his great bidding came 
 
 Artist and scholar from beyond the seas. 
 
 And over seas went forth his messengers, 
 
 To bring the treasures of the distant lands. 
 
 The towered citadel arose, and fane 
 
 Where men did worship, and the voice of prayer. 
 
 At morning and at evening, from pure lips 
 
 Went up without cessation. And they wrought, 
 
 Who were the craftsmen of the king, in gold 
 
 And silver, and with stately ornament
 
 ATHELNEY. 45 
 
 Enriched the Saxon halls : nor any dared 
 To lay the thievish hand on costly thing, 
 Or beautiful. Such perfect equity 
 Pervaded all the ways, the woman walked 
 Through the broad road, or forest greenery, 
 Protected of her innocence alone, 
 For he who held the sceptre of the realm. 
 Did sway a righteous sceptre in those days, 
 And gave the people whom he loved to rest. 
 
 Britain in glory of her crescent power 
 Rejoiced, and on her noble Ruler's head 
 The blessings of a grateful nation came.
 
 NOTES TO ATHELNEY. 
 
 Note i, p. i. 
 
 " The grey day- 
 Was near its close, but ere its sun, which then 
 Wheeled on the lowest pathway of the year 
 Sank into darkness." 
 
 T was at the end of the year 877 or in the 
 first days of 878, as we learn from the Sax. 
 Chroii., Ethehverd Chron.^ and other 
 sources, that King Alfred was driven from 
 his kingdom by the irruptions of the Danes, 
 who came in unprecedented numbers. The Saxons were 
 completely overpowered ; the Sax. Chron. says the King 
 escaped with difficulty to the fastnesses of the moors. 
 
 " In the year of our Lord's Incarnation 878, which was 
 the thirtieth of King Alfred's life, the army above- 
 mentioned went to Chippenham, a royal vill situated in 
 the west of Wiltshire, and on the eastern bank of the river, 
 which is called in British the Avon. There they wintered, 
 and drove many of the inhabitants of that country beyond 
 the sea by the force of their arms, and by want of the
 
 NOTES TO ATHELNEY. 47 
 
 necessaries of life. They reduced almost entirely to sub- 
 jection all the people of that country." 
 
 ASSER'S Life of Alfred. 
 
 Note 2, p. 2. 
 
 " Reaching e'en to the bridles of the horse 
 Of vision." 
 * See Revelation, chap, xiv., ver. 20. 
 
 Note 3, p. 2. 
 
 " This kingdom which I raised 
 From out its ruins, falls this hour again 
 To ruin." 
 
 Alfred began his reign some seven years previously, at 
 a period of great trouble and perplexity. By his warlike 
 energy and enlightened policy he had done much to 
 restore the kingdom and promote the prosperity of the 
 people, when the overwhelming attack of his foes frus- 
 trated his purposes and rendered them abortive. The 
 Saxons appear to have been greatly discouraged, weary 
 perhaps of continuing a struggle with an enemy who, 
 beaten in one place, was sure to presently re-appear in 
 another, with replenished arms and renewed multitudes. 
 Asser says, " If thousands of them were slain in one battle, 
 others took their places to double their numbers." 
 
 Note 4, p. 3. 
 
 " His servant Ethelnoth," 
 
 Ethelnoth the Ealdor, — or to use our modern term, 
 Earl — of Somerset. The old authorities make honourable 
 mention of his fidelity to the King in the time of his 
 trouble.
 
 48 NOTES TO ATHELNEY. 
 
 Note 5, p. 4. 
 
 " Ah, noble thanes, 
 Think of that field of Ashdune." 
 
 The Christians obtained a signal victory over the 
 Pagans, after a hard -fought contest on the field of 
 Ashdune or Ashdown, a few years before. The account 
 of it as found in Asser is interesting. I subjoin an' 
 extract : — 
 
 " But here I must inform those who are ignorant of the 
 fact, that the field of battle was not equally advantageous 
 to both parties. . . . There was also a single thorn-tree, 
 of stunted growth, but we have ourselves never seen it. 
 Around this tree the opposing armies came together with 
 loud shouts from all sides, the one party to pursue their 
 wicked course, the other to fight for their lives, their 
 dearest ties, and their country. And when both armies 
 had fought long and bravely, at last the Pagans, by the 
 Di\'ine judgment, were no longer able to bear the attacks 
 of the Christians, and having lost great part of their 
 army, took to a disgraceful flight. One of their two kings, 
 and five earls were there slain, together with many thou- 
 sand pagans, who fell on all sides, covering with their 
 bodies the whole plain of Ashdune." 
 
 Note 6, p. 5. 
 
 " Know I have seen him throned within this hall, 
 Delivering his judgments to his poor." 
 
 It was the custom of the Saxon kings to personally 
 administer justice. Asser speaks of the great wisdom and 
 patience of Alfred in inquiring into complicated cases.
 
 NOTES TO ATHELNEY. 49 
 
 Note 7, p. 5. 
 
 " The two fair children of Alswitha." 
 
 The Princess Ethelfleda and Edward the Ethehnsr, 
 King Alfred's eldest children, then of course in their very 
 early years. 
 
 Notes, p. 12. 
 
 " The woodman's wife looked on him as her thrall." 
 
 The story of the cakes is too well known to need to be 
 recounted here. 
 
 Note 9, p. 13. 
 
 " On the borders of the isle 
 Of Athelney." 
 
 Probably on the spot where the piety of the King after- 
 wards caused a monastery to be erected. See Asser's 
 Life of Alfred. 
 
 Note 10, p. 14. 
 
 " slain by the men 
 Of Odune, the brave Devon earl." 
 
 This was the battle fought at Kenwith Castle, near 
 Westward Ho ! the site of which tradition still points out. 
 
 Note ii, p. 15. 
 
 " The Danish chiefs 
 Gothrun and Oskel." 
 
 Two of the Jarls who led the army invading the pro- 
 vinces of the West Saxons. Gothrun is styled the " King 
 of the Pagans," he was probably the chief leader.
 
 50 NOTES TO ATHELNEY. 
 
 Note 12, p. 17. 
 
 " Listen a song 
 Of Cadmon, our sweet singer." 
 
 Cadmon was a friend of the pious Abbess Hilda, and 
 sung the story of the Creation in Saxon verse at her 
 request. See Bede's Eccl. Hist. 
 
 Note 13, p. 20. 
 " We too have our dead god." 
 
 The death of Baldur was a favourite theme of northern 
 poetry. 
 
 Note 14, p. 25. 
 
 " a song which pleased me well, 
 The Phoenix." 
 
 The Saxons were very fond of this legend of the East, 
 it is found in many of their poems yet existing. They 
 appear to have considered it an emblem of the Resurrect 
 tion. 
 
 Note 15, p. 29. 
 
 " The royal child, 
 Thereafter lady of the Mercians." 
 
 Ethelfleda, Alfred's warlike daughter, is a very noble 
 figure in early English history. See Florence of Worcester 
 and Saxon Chron. for particulars respecting her. 
 
 Note 16, p. 35. 
 
 " A sign from heaven ! a potent augury 
 Of victory to be ! " 
 
 The Saxons were wont to view all remarkable appear- 
 ances in the heavens with su perstitious regard.
 
 NOTES TO ATHELNEY. 5 I 
 
 , Note 17, p. 38. 
 
 " Learning relumed 
 Her sacred light within her ancient schools." 
 
 Alfred did much to encourage learning, notably at 
 Oxford and Winchester. 
 
 Note 18, p. 39. 
 
 " Alfred of England." 
 
 Although he never styled himself King of England, 
 Alfred was to all intents such, the divisions of the 
 heptarchy being now obliterated. The princes of North- 
 umbria, Mercia, and Anglia having been either slain or 
 driven into exile by the Danes, the rule of the whole 
 country lay in Alfred's hands. 
 
 Note 19, p. 42. 
 
 " Saxon, and Celt, and Dane, 
 We are the roots whereof perchance shall grow, 
 A mighty people in the future." 
 
 It is not impossible of belief that such a glorious 
 forecast of the future should occur to the mind of the 
 great Saxon Prince. We know that Alfred did much to 
 promote a general amity, and to establish a common 
 Christianity in the land. He showed great favour to his 
 British subjects and was greatly beloved of them. The 
 Celtish princes of Demetia voluntarily sought his friend- 
 sTiip and powerful protection. His generosity to the 
 Danes in many instances is very marked, notably so in 
 the case of Hastings, whose sons he returned to him, 
 enemy though he was, ransomless and free, because they 
 had been baptised. We may trace in this not only the
 
 52 
 
 NOTES TO ATHELNEY. 
 
 chivalrous and romantic generosity of a noble-minded 
 prince, but also the policy of the far-seeing ruler who 
 sought to bridge over the old animosities of race ; and to 
 convert enemies into friends and allies, — foes into peace- 
 ful subjects and law-abiding citizens. It is remarkable 
 that it is to a Briton, namely Asser (appointed by Alfred 
 to the bishopric of Crediton, — or Exeter, — after he came 
 at the King's desire from St. David's in Wales), we are 
 indebted for the fullest record we possess of the life and 
 deeds of the greatest of the Saxon kings.
 
 EASTER DAY. 
 
 ISE, gentle morn, and shed thy beams, 
 Red from the rosiest heart of dawn, 
 In sign of that great life divine. 
 From which our holiest hopes are drawn ! 
 Spread out, oh ! rose of light 
 Your leaves, to glad our sight, 
 Symbol of that more bright 
 Which blossom'd from the tomb ! 
 
 Lo now the beautiful feet of Spring, 
 That dapple the green earth with flowers, 
 
 Come softly, and behind them leave 
 Touches of gold in woody bowers.
 
 54 EASTER DAY. 
 
 In fields, and mieads, and groves, 
 The which to haunt she loves. 
 Young buds where'er she moves 
 Tell out that she has come, 
 
 The beautiful daughter of the year, 
 To quicken to new life the earth. 
 
 In rippling brooklets crisp and clear. 
 The low glad laughter of her mirth 
 Tinkles, where wild birds sing. 
 Or dip the stream with wing, 
 For now in everything 
 Subtilly soft and fine, 
 
 Beauty and music wake and Uve. 
 Oh, beautiful feet, upon the hills. 
 
 Eastward, where kindles the great sun ! 
 Oh, beautiful feet, beside the rills 
 Where the young leaflets quiver ! 
 Nature thou tellest ever. 
 Stammering and pausing never, 
 Of that great life divine.
 
 EASTER DAY. 55 
 
 Which blossomed from the darksome grave, 
 First-fruits of glorious life to be, 
 
 When Christ arose, and gave to men 
 The pledge of immortality ! 
 
 For each new morn doth show, 
 With its red clouds a-glow, 
 Each Spring when violets blow, 
 As in a mystery. 
 
 In the sweet light conquering the dark, 
 In the sweet life new won from death, 
 In heaven's wide arc of blue above, 
 In all earth's greenery beneath, 
 
 Shadowings of that great glory 
 Told in the sacred story. 
 Oh, breast of earth so flowery, 
 Thou tellest it for aye. 
 
 As with a thousand lips to men, 
 The rising of the blessed one, 
 
 The triumph of the Son of God, 
 Who vanquished death, and dying won
 
 56 EASTER DAY. 
 
 A deathless life for all ! 
 O thou with seed-pearls small 
 That on the grasses fall, 
 Come on thy golden way ! 
 
 Come, gentle morn, and shed thy beams, 
 Bring forth the ruby of the dawn, 
 In sign of that great life divine, 
 From which our holiest hopes are drawn ! 
 Spread out, oh rose of light, 
 Your leaves, to glad our sight, ^ 
 
 Symbol of that more bright 
 Which blossom'd from the tomb !
 
 GARFIELD. 
 
 UM ANITY that keeps her best 
 As jewels in her heart, 
 Shall give him loving place therein, 
 The man who with sweet art, 
 In all the devious walks of life, 
 
 Combined high thought with deed, 
 Making the common drudgeries move 
 
 To music that doth feed 
 The ideal springs of love, and still 
 As soldier, statesman, friend, 
 
 * It was asked by the dying President of one attending him, 
 " Do you think I shall have a place in history?" "Yes," it was 
 rephed, " a high place, and a grand place in the human heart."
 
 58 GARFIELD. 
 
 In camp, and senate, and in home, 
 Was stedfast to one end ! 
 
 While this old Saxon stock puts forth 
 
 Its blossoms to the light, 
 Rose-like, beyond the western seas, 
 
 His memory shall be bright ; 
 And wheresoe'er this speech of ours, 
 
 In far-off future days, 
 Shall sound beneath th' encircling skies. 
 
 The tale of him shall raise 
 Heroic fire in noble hearts. 
 
 And men shall fondly say 
 The lustre of a name like his 
 
 Shall never pass away ! 
 
 The patriot sows the lowly seed 
 Which germinates in power ; 
 
 Upon the basis of pure lives 
 Great nations rise and tower ; 
 
 The good, the pure are they that make 
 Those deep foundations strong
 
 GARFIELD. 59 
 
 Whereon the State securely rests ; 
 
 Nor loftier theme of song 
 With trumpet-blowings rings through time 
 
 Than the just deeds of one 
 Who sets his country's good above 
 
 All interests of his own ! 
 
 Oh great star-banner of the States 
 
 Wave gently o'er the dead ! 
 We give the tribute of our tears ; 
 
 A mighty people's head, — 
 A little less than king, and more, — 
 
 Is now this day laid low ! 
 And in our island home we feel 
 
 The touch of that great woe 
 Which thrills the myriads of yon realm. 
 
 A strain of something grand 
 Is in such sorrow, and it strikes 
 
 A chord within this land ! 
 
 Oh great star-banner of the States, 
 Float proudly in the wind !
 
 60 GARFIELD. 
 
 Sons of the great and free march on, 
 
 Lead in the march of mind ! 
 Strike down foul tyranny and wrong, 
 
 Exalt true liberty ! 
 In vanguard of the nations move, 
 
 The world's true chivalry ! 
 Open the golden doors of Peace, 
 
 Prepare the glorious way, 
 The future pathway of mankind 
 
 Unto the peerless day !
 
 LINES ON THE DEATH OF 
 THE PRINCESS ALICE. 
 
 H ! emerald leaf upon the summer bough, 
 The dreary rains shall weep on thee, for thou 
 Shalt fade and fall ! 
 
 Oh ! ruby-hearted rose of golden June, 
 Queenliest of flowers, thou, too, shalt droop full 
 soon. 
 
 And fade and fall ! 
 
 She, too, hath faded, England's treasured flower, 
 Most perfect daughter proved in the dark hour, 
 Alas ! her fall !
 
 62 LINES ON THE DEATH 
 
 Faded, our sweetest rose, ah ! woe the day, 
 That one so fair, so dear, should pass away — 
 Should fade and fall ! 
 
 Cold, cold ! no smile, no kiss ! oh, husband, weep ! 
 
 Weep, oh, young babes ! alas ! for that strange sleep ! 
 To fade and fall 
 
 In her best bloom, mother and wife, too sad ! 
 Yet the sweet Heaven its part in her hath had ! 
 Why weep her fall ? 
 
 But we ? Ah ! our poor hearts ache in the dark, 
 Hungering in vain, we see not God's high mark. 
 Oh ! weep her fall 
 
 Ye four-fold millions of our Nation's heart, 
 All England had in her some noble part, 
 Weep, weep, her fall ! 
 
 Grieve, England, for the daughter of our Queen, 
 Loved with full love as she hath ever been. 
 We fade and fall
 
 OF THE PRINCESS ALICE. 
 
 63 
 
 As doth the leaf, alike the high, the low 
 Oh ! mighty lesson of a mighty woe ! 
 We fade and fall !
 
 THE OLD YEAR AND THE 
 NEW. 
 
 SAID to the departing Year, 
 " Tarry a little, I have within my mind 
 A dream of a god of the mythic times, 
 Let me carve it a statue ere you go, and bind 
 The unseen with the seen." 
 But the year made answer unto me, 
 " Too late, too late ! " 
 
 Then said I to the passing year, 
 " Oh stay a little, I have within my hand 
 
 A lot of seed-pearls, let me string them up, 
 Lest they be scattered in a lonely land 
 Where they'll be lost I ween."
 
 THE OLD YEAR AND THE NEW. 65 
 
 But the year made answer unto me, 
 " Too late, too late ! " 
 
 And again I said unto the year 
 "Oh tarry, tarry, there is within my heart 
 
 A love that has not yet been told 
 To one who pines for it. Do not depart 
 Till I have told my love." 
 But the year made answer unto me, 
 *' Too late, too late ! " 
 
 Then said I to the passing year, 
 " Tarry, oh tarry yet ; I heard just now 
 
 The cry of a little lamb in the dark, 
 I was sleepy, I did not stir, but how, ah how ! 
 If the lamb I love doth rove ? " 
 But the year made answer unto me, 
 " Too late, too late ! " 
 
 And I wept for the words of the dying year. 
 I wept, and solemn spirits of the night 
 
 Spake each to other, " Too late, too late ! " 
 But anon from the east, with the springing light, 
 
 F
 
 66 THE OLD YEAR AND THE NEW. 
 
 Came the sound of a still sweet voice, 
 I cried " What hope ? " and it answer'd me, 
 " Behold, I wait ! " 
 
 For God had sent His glad New Year ; 
 From the young eyed cherubs that nestle about His feet, 
 
 On its errand of gentle love it came. 
 " What hope? " I cried, then the voice most sweet, 
 " O soul, up and rejoice, 
 I come with new light, rise, I await thee, 
 Behold, I wait ! "
 
 LIFE. 
 
 HAT says the spring wind to the rose, 
 Waking her in the morning ? " Life, 
 oh Hfe, 
 Oh the glad free Hfe, 
 'Tis Hfe, and Hfe, and nothing but Hfe ! " 
 
 What says the river as it flows, 
 
 To the tiny buds a-bursting ? " Life, 
 Oh the glad free Hfe, 
 'Tis Hfe, and life, and nothing but life ! " 
 
 What is it, O lyric lark, you sing 
 
 In the ears of morning ? " Life, oh life, 
 Oh the glad free life, 
 Tis life, and life, and nothing but life ! "
 
 68 LIFE. 
 
 And in my heart the glad thought Hfts the wing 
 With each new dawning, Life, oh Ufe, 
 Oh the glad free life, 
 'Tis life, and life, and nothing but life ! 
 
 But I hear the sound of feet in the street, 
 
 They are carrying a child to the grave. Ah 
 death. 
 
 Not life, but death, 
 Death hath its way, after all is death ! 
 
 And the living voices that are so sweet 
 
 Die out in the dark night's silence, death. 
 Ah me, 'tis death, 
 Death hath its way, after all is death. 
 
 And I sigh within my heart, and weep, 
 
 Death is twin of life, its equal is death, 
 Its stronger is death, 
 Death hath its way, after all is death ! 
 
 Is it so ? I know not ; a voice from the deep. 
 
 And it moaneth ever, " Death, ah death.
 
 LIFE. 69 
 
 The all-conquering death, 
 Death hath its way, after all is death ! " 
 
 But the higher voice in the brighter hours 
 Groweth clearer ever, " Life 'tis life, 
 The victorious life, 
 ' Tis life, and life, and evermore life ! " 
 
 Now the wind is playing amongst the flowers 
 
 This Easter morning, and it singeth, " Life, 
 Oh the glad free Hfe, 
 'Tis life, and life, and evermore life ! "
 
 LINES 
 
 SUGGESTED BY THE OPENING OF ROCK 
 PARK, BARNSTAPLE, i2TH 
 
 AUGUST, 1879. nJuaiyrU /^ 
 
 HE vine hath its own glory of the grape, 
 The ripen'd wheat the beauty of its 
 gold; 
 
 Yea, these are excellent ; yet more divine, 
 In its pure deeds of selfless love unrolled, 
 The fruitage of a noble life. 
 
 The lowly plant from root and leaf goes up 
 
 Unto the bright consummate flower — its crown ; 
 
 By steps of faithful love, the loving soul 
 Climbs up to that great virtue of its own, 
 God-like, with all sweet goodness rife !
 
 THE OPENING OF ROCK PARK. J I 
 
 The flower, the fruitage of a noble life — 
 Yes, we behold it in our midst this day ; 
 
 We know and name it ; it is here with us ; 
 An excellence which shall not pass away, 
 Nor fade nor wither like the leaf ! 
 
 The world with its brute-lusts shall reel and pass ; 
 
 The things of tinsel melt like mists of morn ; 
 The base, the mean, die in its littleness ; 
 
 But all that is of selfless goodness born 
 Shall be as is the full ripe sheaf ! 
 
 The false notes die in distance in the hymn ; 
 
 But the true notes live on, and make the song 
 Sweet to the ears of them that stand afar. 
 
 And all true virtue shall live on, and lone. 
 Aye ever, be a thing of power ! 
 
 Oh ! not as rain upon the barren sands, 
 Shall loving deeds fall on the hearts of men ; 
 
 But fruitful still to bring forth only good, 
 
 Thy gifts shall reach their end, oh I doubt it not 
 Thou kindly giver at this hour 

 
 72 THE OPENING OF ROCK PARK. 
 
 Our old town sent him forth, long years ago : 
 Needs must it be that she should love him much 
 
 Who loves her still so well, who through all change 
 Hath loved and served : she hath not many such 
 Amongst her sons, so pure, so true ! 
 
 f " Beauty, and good, and knowledge," the sweet three 
 Beneath one roof, the better for his care, 
 
 i Shall thrive and grow, and make this ancient town 
 Happy and free : the future years shall bear 
 Their tribute to his praise, most due ! 
 
 A daughter of the town, I give him thanks ! 
 
 Ay, for the sake of that old home of mine. 
 There first with baby hand I plucked the flowers, 
 
 When the glad spring, with tender shower and shine, 
 Opened the violet's eyes of blue. 
 
 Ay, long my native town shall hold him dear, 
 And teach her sons to copy as they may 
 
 So fair a course ; to be, like him, just, pure, 
 Loving, and true ! " Here," she shall say, 
 " Behold the pattern of a life
 
 THE OPENING OF ROCK PARK. 73 
 
 " Lived out to ends of truest usefulness." 
 And haply some of these her sons shall be, 
 
 In commerce or in art, leaders of men, 
 
 Teaching the true, giving blind eyes to see, 
 Bidding to cease the world's harsh strife.
 
 THE CUP OF TEARS. 
 
 HE child was young and fair, 
 Soft its eyes and bright its hair, 
 But sickness on it lay. 
 
 And the little one passed away ; 
 
 The mother she wept in her grief, 
 
 Disconsolate without relief, 
 
 Day and night wept she, — night and day. 
 
 It was midnight, and there rose, 
 
 In the chamber small and dim, 
 
 Where no fire nor lamp-light glows, 
 
 With sound of music mild 
 
 The semblance of a child, 
 
 A visionary babe — 
 
 Lovely angel of the Lord, 
 
 Such as those who wait His word.
 
 THE CUP OF TEARS. 75 
 
 And soft before him wave 
 Fragrant censers of their praise, 
 While a ceaseless song they raise, 
 Tender looks of love it wore, 
 In its hand a cup it bore, 
 Full was it unto the brim, 
 Filled unto the topmost rim. 
 The midnight air was riven 
 With the voice so soft and clear, 
 Thus it spoke, the vision bright, — 
 " From the angelic bower, 
 Where nestling cherubs sleep 
 Beneath the wings that keep 
 In shelter close and deep 
 The little ones of heaven, 
 In this sweet and solemn hour 
 Come I to thee, my mother dear. 
 Lo ! the sorrow-cup I bear, 
 In it gathered every tear 
 Weeping thou for me hast shed : 
 If the cup should overflow, 
 Though among the saints I glow,
 
 'j^ THE CUP OF TEARS. 
 
 And the heavenly dances tread, 
 Must I taste of mortal woe, 
 And in mourning bow me low ! " 
 Thus it spoke, then passed from sight, 
 The lovely child of light. 
 
 And the mother wept no more ; 
 
 Hushed she for her darling's sake 
 All her grief so great and sore 
 
 Lest the little one partake.
 
 LINES 
 
 ON THE OCCASION OF MR. GLADSTONE'S 
 LATE VISIT TO LEEDS. 
 
 "VINE amongst the nations on whose 
 boughs 
 Truth, justice, peace do hang like golden 
 fruit, 
 Our England — lo, great souls and pure do feed 
 Thy secret strength, thou of the mighty root ! 
 Amongst the nobler sons of England, one 
 
 Stands foremost at this moment — a great name 
 Amongst the names that have their lustre won 
 
 By years of faithful service ; — his the aim 
 No mean ambition sullies, his the life 
 Harmonious with the principles of love,
 
 78 MR. GLADSTONE'S VISIT TO LEEDS. 
 
 The nature " finely moved to issues fine," 
 
 Should we not love him well, whose worth we prove ? 
 
 A noble statesman, he has done good work, 
 
 For he has helped to break the oppressive yoke. 
 To set to healthful music all the steps 
 
 Of s6cial life, to ward the bitter stroke 
 Of grinding misery from defenceless heads, 
 
 To make men men, knowing their heritage ! 
 Not shifting with the veering times, but still 
 
 The people's friend, though factions idly rage. 
 His the clear word, and his the guiding hand, 
 
 All honour to the aged statesman be, 
 Still he is strong to hold the reins of power. 
 
 And grandly lead a nation of the free ! 
 
 The thought of half the spacious globe to-day 
 Is moulded in this Saxon speech, the tongue 
 
 Which Shakespeare used shall give new wings of words 
 To many a future poet's song, 
 
 And Saxon laws shall set their sovereign stamp 
 On institutions of the times to be.
 
 MR. GLADSTONE'S VISIT TO LEEDS. 79 
 
 Justice, and truth, and peace are yours to guard, 
 O England's sons ! the glorious and the free ! 
 
 Yea, let the great tree flourish in far days, 
 
 Amongst the tribes of earth, the pure, the just. 
 
 Hang on her boughs like golden fruit, O sons, 
 Till the vine trail her blossoms in the dust ! 
 
 October, 1881.
 
 THE LONG AGO. 
 
 N a green and pleasant garden 
 There was once a fairy bower ; 
 It was built to sound of harps 
 
 In a soft and golden hour, 
 
 Long ago, and long ago ! 
 
 Thither came the fays and sylvans, 
 Tripping lightly with sweet songs, 
 
 And the zephyrs in the groves 
 Answered them with airy tongues, 
 Long ago, and long ago ! 
 
 Linked with a chain of roses, 
 Thither came the Graces three,
 
 THE LONG AGO. 8 1 
 
 And the laughing son of Venus, 
 Cupid with his archery, 
 
 Long ago, and long ago ! 
 
 To that arbour, flower-embosomed. 
 
 Came the rosy-winged Hour 
 That unlocks the gates of day, — 
 
 Laid him down within the bower, — 
 Long ago, and long ago ! 
 
 And the sylvans of the garden 
 
 Spake unto the lovely guest, 
 " Tell us, O most gentle sprite, 
 
 Art thou come with us to rest?" 
 Ah me, 'twas long ago ! 
 
 To the sylvans of the garden. 
 Answer made the child of li^hL 
 
 " I am come to rest awhile 
 In the lily's bosom white." 
 Oh, it was long ago !
 
 82 THE LONG AGO. 
 
 And the gentle fays and sylvans 
 
 Questioned him — " What dost thou love? 
 Is it music mild and soft, 
 
 Played within a shadowy grove?" 
 (Ah it was long ago !) 
 
 " While to the soft Lydian measure, 
 O'er the daisy-sprinkled ground, 
 
 We with dainty feet do dance 
 In a circle round and round?" 
 Oh, it was long ago ! 
 
 Then the sound of laughter ringing 
 
 Filled the garden through and through. 
 
 For the fays in frolic ran 
 
 Where the fairest flowerets grew, — 
 All this was long ago ! 
 
 And the boughs of Flora stripping. 
 
 Brought by armfuls the ripe flowers. 
 Singing, " Strew them round and round,
 
 THE LONG AGO. S^ 
 
 Strew them in bright fragrant showers !" 
 Ah, it was long ago ! 
 
 And the sylvans and the garden, 
 
 And the rosy-winged Hour, 
 ^Vhere they are I wot now, 
 
 But the leaden day goes slower 
 Than in the long ago !
 
 ^VITH A WREATH AND CROSS OF WILD 
 
 FLOWERS SENT TO A BEREAVED 
 
 FRIEND. 
 
 O, Utile wildling flowers, 
 Plucked from the heart of Devon's woods 
 Go, touched with tears of ours ! 
 
 A lowly tribute to his worth, 
 
 Who sleeps — Life's task well done ! 
 
 Ah, gentle buds and sweet, 
 
 Emblems of the mind's varying moods ; 
 
 Is it not right and meet 
 
 That you, the fair earth's loveliest birth 
 
 Should for the dead be won ? 
 
 Go, in soft ministry, 
 
 And what the spoken word still fails
 
 WITH A WREATH OF WILD FLOWERS. 85 
 
 To utter, that speak ye ! 
 
 Tell our regrets for him, low laid. 
 
 And how we loved him say ! 
 
 Where the wild grasses wave, 
 
 Swept by the winds, in our green vales 
 
 1 pluck'd you. On yon grave 
 
 Lie lightly, till your blossoms fade 
 
 And graceful leaves decay. 
 
 Brief is this little life 
 
 Though " threescore" measure out its span 
 
 And still, with troubles rife. 
 
 And fragile, are all works of ours, 
 
 Evanescent as the dew ! 
 
 Methinks I learn it now 
 
 More deeply than before, how man 
 
 Moves in a passing show. 
 
 Whether in sunshine or in showers 
 
 Brief are his days and few ! 
 
 And yet a ray divine, 
 
 Springs from a life that's nobly lived ;
 
 86 WITH A WREATH OF WILD FLOWERS 
 
 Subtilly soft and fine, 
 
 It kindles and throws out its beams 
 
 Along the rolling years ! 
 
 Oh, like a pearl most white 
 
 That's found by one who deep hath div'd. 
 
 It hangs in radiance bright 
 
 Upon the world's great heart, and seems 
 
 Bedewed with tender tears, 
 
 To grow more beautiful ! 
 
 The brother that you mourn, dear friend, 
 
 Who was so dutiful 
 
 To all the high behests of Heaven, 
 
 Leading a life most pure, 
 
 Enshrined in our deep love, 
 
 Lives still, nor misses one true end 
 
 Of that for which he strove. 
 
 The beauty of his soul is given 
 
 To us, yet more and more, 
 
 As death takes off the veil. 
 
 Lie lightly on his grave, oh, flowers
 
 SENT TO A BEREAVED FRIEND. 87 
 
 Until ye droop and fail ! 
 
 Touched with the droppings of fresh tears, 
 
 Enwreath his place of rest ! 
 
 Go, in soft ministry, 
 
 And what the spoken words of ours 
 
 Say not, express ! Ah, me ! 
 
 Something of pain life ever bears ; 
 
 Only the dead are blest ! 
 
 October, 1882.
 
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 A SUMMER SONG. 
 
 OW blows the crimson rose, and the sweet 
 white, 
 Now lolls the lily on the silver wave, 
 Now the full-throated thrush sings to delight 
 
 His brooding mate. The swans their plumage lave. 
 Gliding adown 
 The azure lake. 
 Now sweetens -in the fruit the tender juice, 
 The cherry's ruby clusters ripening glow ; 
 Shakes the laburnum her bright tresses loose, 
 While honeysuckles their sweet breathings blow ; 
 Where shades embrown, 
 June's wood flowers wake. 
 
 With softest rustlings from the balmy south. 
 Young Zephyr comes to fan the dreamy flowers,
 
 A SUMMER SONG. Sg 
 
 Sweeter than sweetest kisses on the mouth ; 
 Led in by meek-eyed Morn, with dewy showers 
 Dropped on the meads 
 Like orient pearls. 
 Within the woodland's green and dusky glades, 
 
 The running rivulet laughs and brawls, now leaps 
 And gleams in sunshine, now glooms in the shades ; 
 Where the warm sunlight falls subdued and sleeps, 
 The fern 'mong weeds 
 Lifts its brown curls. 
 
 Now in the deep of night, in secret place, 
 
 The nightingale her passionate music pours 
 On the thrilled air, so hath she only grace 
 To sing in silence, and these hearts of ours 
 Float into love's 
 Own deep divine ! 
 Now, oh dear love of mine, my Psyche sweet, 
 
 With golden zone, gaze in mine eyes with thine, 
 And let the gorgeous blooms of summer meet 
 In our twinned souls, more pure, spiritually fine, 
 Than in her groves 
 Oh love of mine !
 
 TO A BUTTERFLY. 
 
 OME, rest by me, 
 With gilded wing upon the flower, 
 And charm me for one fleeting hour! 
 
 Come, rest by me, 
 And make me joyful with the sight 
 Of an embodied beam of light ! 
 Dear child of spring ! 
 Sweet April's fairest darling thou, 
 That gently flutterest round her brow. 
 
 When from her heart 
 Goes up through leaf and bud above 
 The first faint thrill of virgin love !
 
 TO A BUTTERFLY. 9 1 
 
 Most beauteous thing 
 That Nature has, how fair thou art, 
 And yet of strength how small thy part ! 
 
 One touch of mine 
 Would brush the beauty from thy wing, 
 And unto dust thy glory bring ! 
 
 Great Nature's child, 
 Go, sport upon the mother's breast ! 
 But for a moment is thy rest. 
 
 I own — I feel 
 A life whose vast immensity 
 Ages unroll : and yet there be 
 
 Some ties which bind 
 My soul to thee, thou trembling thing. 
 And there be thoughts untold that bring — 
 
 Tremblingly bring — 
 The tear-drops to mine eyes : sweet thought 
 And tender memory are brought 
 
 Of days long past : 
 The joy and sorrow of a dream 
 With thy bright flickering gleam.
 
 92 
 
 TO A BUTTERFLY. 
 
 Creature so frail, 
 I, that am human, own with thee 
 Some links of sympathy : to me, 
 
 Sweet wanderer, 
 Thou art no insect, but a light 
 From out the past, tender and bright !
 
 THE RIVER. 
 
 H, lazy meandering river, 
 'Tween grassy banks and lolling flowers. 
 Through all the golden summer hours, 
 Flowing on softly ever, 
 Toward the far-off mighty sea, 
 What singeth thy low wave to me ? 
 
 Though lapped in such sweet feeling, 
 As folds the odorous heart of flowers, 
 When fed with rains in July hours, 
 
 Some weirdly strange revealing. 
 Oft dashes the soul's laughter 
 With shade of the hereafter !
 
 94 THE RIVER. 
 
 Our most delicious dreaming — 
 Though we do couch on honeyed flowers. 
 While dance around the rose bright hours- 
 Is with an innate sorrow teeming, 
 And from our gleefullest gladness 
 Start tears with freight of sadness. 
 
 Thou flowest on, oh river ! 
 'Tween grassy banks with lolling flowers, 
 Through all the golden summer hours. 
 
 To fall and be for ever 
 Enwrapped within the infinite sea — 
 So pass we on to mystery. 
 
 -'-AN?
 
 MAY MORNING. 
 
 HE darkness is gone, 
 
 The glad lark is singing, 
 May, leaf-crowned, comes on. 
 Her blossoms she's bringing ! 
 My fairest, arise ! 
 
 The laughing brooks leap. 
 Flashing out to the sun. 
 
 Love, wake from thy sleep, 
 The day has begun ! 
 
 My fairest, arise ! 
 
 The violets are sweet, 
 As they bud in a row-
 
 g6 MAY MORNING. 
 
 O turn hither thy feet, 
 
 Where the wild flowrets blow ! 
 My fairest, arise ! 
 
 As to kisses of love, 
 
 Earth awaketh this hour, 
 
 List the voice of the dove, 
 Cooing soft in her bower ! 
 My fairest, arise ! 
 
 O come to me, sweet. 
 In the arbour of roses. 
 
 One kiss as we greet 
 All Eden discloses ! 
 
 My fairest, arise ! 
 
 ^{c
 
 THE COLD GREY SEA. 
 
 COLD grey sea so old, 
 
 What is it thou dost say, 
 With the lapping of thy waves, 
 Upon the pebbles grey ? 
 
 Thou hidest in thine heart 
 
 A solemn mystery, 
 And therefore thou art sad, 
 
 O thou most ancient sea ! 
 
 Thy grey waves ebb and flow, 
 With a monotone of pain, 
 
 Like the pain within the soul 
 Of one who loves in vain ! 
 
 H
 
 98 THE COLD GREY SEA. 
 
 With mournful murmurings, 
 Thou breakest on the shore, 
 
 I pace by thee and dream, 
 What shall be nevermore ! 
 
 Ah me ! thou cold grey sea, 
 What is it thou dost say, 
 
 With the lapping of thy waves, 
 Upon the pebbles grey ? 
 
 Thou echoest the pain, 
 Of this our human heart, 
 
 The sorrow and the doubt. 
 Wherewith we inly smart ! 
 
 The pining and regret, 
 
 The longing infinite, 
 That haunts our whole of life, 
 
 And the hopeless cry for light
 
 THE COLD GREY SEA. 99 
 
 AVith mournful niurmurings, 
 
 Thou breakest on the shore, 
 I pace by thee and dream 
 
 What shall be nevermore !
 
 "THY KING COMETH UNTO 
 THEE, O ZION." 
 
 IDE on, ride on, O kingly One ! 
 We children of to-day, 
 Will shout hosanna, as they did 
 Who strewed with palms Thy way ! 
 
 Not as a conqueror from war, 
 In meekness Thou dost come ! 
 
 Music and song shall welcome Thee, 
 Sweet songs from every home ! 
 
 Ride forth, ride forth anew, O Christ, 
 Lord of all times and men !
 
 THY KING COMETH UNTO THEE, O ZION." 10 1 
 
 The day-star of the waiting world, 
 As truly now as then ! 
 
 Thy throne Thou dost up-build, great Lord, 
 
 Within the human soul. 
 And there, as kingly conqueror. 
 
 Thy banners dost unroll ! 
 
 Not in dim aisles alone is found, 
 
 A temple meet for thee. 
 The heart that glows with fervid flame 
 
 A sacred shrine shall be ! 
 
 In grand apocalypse appear, 
 
 Anew thou heavenly One ! 
 The nations are Thine heritage, 
 
 Thine are they, Thine alone ! 
 
 Ride forth, O conqueror divine, 
 
 We children of to-day. 
 Will shout hosanna, as they did 
 
 Who strewed with palms Thy way !
 
 REDEMPTION. 
 
 ISE my soul on wings of faith, 
 
 To the heavenly gates above. 
 Sing thou there with clearer voice, 
 
 Of a dying Saviour's love ! 
 
 There beside the fountain sing. 
 Flowing from the emerald throne, 
 
 Where the bleeding lamb is found, 
 With the wounds that did atone ! 
 
 High above earth's fleeting things 
 Sing redemption's sweetest song. 
 
 Sing of Jesu's love to men. 
 
 Than the might of death more strong.
 
 REDEMPTION. lOj 
 
 Tell the world the Saviour lives, 
 
 Throned in light for evermore, 
 And the souls that captive be 
 
 From the dust may upward soar. 
 
 They in mire of sin that lie. 
 
 As on wings of doves shall rise, 
 Hearing the sweet strain of love 
 
 Wafted from the glorious skies !
 
 THE VOICE FROM HEAVEN. 
 
 HEN from the radiant cloud of old 
 The heavenly dove came forth, 
 Men list'ning heard the voice of God, 
 And knew the Saviour's worth ! 
 
 A little band, they stood that day, 
 By Jordan's deep blue wave, 
 
 And looked upon the lowly One, 
 Divinely sent to save ! 
 
 The centuries have rolled their course, 
 A thousand years and more. 
 
 Yet still to us the message comes 
 From Galilee's far shore !
 
 THE VOICE FROM HEAVEN. IO5 
 
 And still from out the covering cloud, 
 
 That veils our highest light, 
 The bird of God anew comes forth, 
 
 In goodness infinite ! 
 
 Light in our midst, sweet dove this hour, 
 
 x\nd under brooding wings, 
 The little ones in grace receive, 
 
 Until the whole land rings, 
 
 With glad hosannas meetly raised, 
 
 By childish voices sweet, 
 Come where the children gather now, 
 
 Their loving Lord to meet. 
 
 Come heavenly Dove, from heaven above. 
 
 Come voice that speaks of Him 
 Who is the whole world's light of life 
 
 Unto its utmost rim !
 
 ELIM. 
 
 Exodus xv., 27. 
 
 H for the palms and fountains, 
 The shadowy palms that grow, 
 By Elim's many fountains, 
 Whose waters softly flow ! 
 
 Oh, there they rest from labour, 
 And there they chant the psalm. 
 
 That soundeth sweet to angels. 
 All in a golden calm ! 
 
 Most dreary is the desert ; 
 
 Grant, Lord, a little rest ! 
 I sigh, foot-sore and weary, 
 
 For that green vale so blest !
 
 ELIM. 107 
 
 Be Christ to me as Elim, 
 My peace amid the strife, 
 
 And be His love my shelter, 
 Through all the ills of life ! 
 
 Within my Saviour's favour 
 Fountain and palm I find, 
 
 The burning blinding desert. 
 Forgotten, lies behind ! 
 
 I find in Him my gladness. 
 My rest and my repose. 
 
 When He His face uplifteth 
 My soul no sorrow knows ! 
 
 To Thee, O gentle Saviour ! 
 
 Thine own shall still repair, 
 And resting in Thy presence 
 
 Cast off their grief and care.
 
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 FORGIVENESS. 
 
 H, come and kiss the bleeding feet, 
 Nailed to the shameful tree ! 
 Come in your chains of guilt and sin, 
 Come in your misery, 
 
 Come to the feet of Him 
 Who died to set you free ! 
 
 Come, and your hearts of stone shall melt, 
 
 To think such love should be 
 So long despised, so long denied, — 
 Sinner, He cares for thee ! 
 
 Come to the feet of Him 
 Who died to set you free ! 
 
 The new pure heart shall Christ bestow. 
 Oh, taste His liberty !
 
 FORGIVENESS. IO9 
 
 Pardon and peace He giveth you, 
 His joy your own shall be, 
 
 Come to the feet of Him 
 Who died to set you free ! 
 
 Oh, kiss with tears the bleeding feet 
 
 Nailed to the shameful tree ! 
 Come men, come women, stained with sin, 
 Slaves sold to infamy. 
 
 Come to the feet of Him 
 Who died to set you free !
 
 IN MEMORIAM. 
 
 OLD the meek hands that work no more, 
 And o'er them strew the pure white 
 flowers ! 
 
 The angels' eyes may look on her, 
 Alas ! no longer is she ours, 
 Sleep gently, gentle one. 
 Thine earthly task well done ! 
 
 Such beautiful serenity 
 
 In life was hers, we will not weep — 
 Not wildly ; still her spirit holds 
 
 Such power on us, though grief be deep. 
 Our hearts are hushed and still, 
 Submissive to God's will !
 
 IN MEMORIAM. Ill 
 
 He rounds this little life of ours 
 
 With His own vast eternity, 
 No broken fragment is it then, 
 'Tis but a portion that we see ! 
 The fulness of our life, 
 Lies out beyond earth's strife ! 
 
 In exquisite completeness now 
 
 He carves a statue of His own, 
 His fair ideal, out of that 
 
 Which lately we called ours ; alone 
 He does it, meaner hand 
 Shapes not His type so grand. 
 
 Why should we sorrow then ? Ah why ! 
 
 We wait till His revealing hand. 
 Shall lift the veil, and show the form 
 So beautiful, in that fair land 
 Where all is peace is joy, 
 Where love knows no alloy !
 
 MY SONG. 
 
 ^-_x 
 
 Y song is like the bird's 
 
 That builds beneath the eaves, 
 When the winds of spring are soft, 
 At the budding of the leaves, 
 'Tis fed of love ! 
 
 To you and me 'tis sweet, 
 
 Who meet and clasp and kiss, 
 
 But other souls than ours, 
 I ween would haply miss 
 
 The charm we prove, 
 
 A lyric of the heart, 
 A simple homely strain
 
 MY SONG. 113 
 
 That falls upon the ear : 
 
 And comes and comes again, 
 All songs above ! 
 
 To thee, O sweeting, I 
 
 Sing at the break of day, 
 And when the brown shades fall, 
 
 Whilst with loitering steps we stray 
 Through the green groves !
 
 THE LILY OF THE VALE. 
 
 SAW in dreams young cherubs stand 
 About the feet of God ; their wings were 
 white, 
 
 Their wings were bright, and round about them shed 
 Ambrosial sweets ! The heavenly Father spoke 
 In accents clear and loud; through heaven His voice 
 Was heard, "Which of my children, pure and white. 
 Will go for Me to earth ? Among my bands 
 Of radiant saints in this fair Paradise, 
 Where shall I find my meetest messenger, 
 To bear to earth, and on her breast diffuse 
 The fragrance and the purity of this 
 Mine holy dweUing place ? " 
 
 Then saw I stand-
 
 THE LILY OF THE VALE. I I 5 
 
 Before His face, a cherub mild and fair, 
 More lovely than a child of earth, but like 
 To such it seemed — -a fair and female child. 
 " Father, I go," she whispering said, then bowed. 
 And veiled her with her lovely wings, all pure, 
 And sweet as petals of the lily-flower. 
 I saw the moving of a thousand wings, 
 And far and wide the glory-fields of heaven 
 Were filled with breath of odours rich. 
 
 Such was 
 My dream ; its meaning then I did not know, 
 Nor scarcely know I now. 
 
 It was the spring, 
 The late bare earth was flush with wealth 
 Of new blown-buds, when in a vale I stood, 
 And with delicious joy, low at my feet, 
 Beheld a lily 'mid her clustering leaves, 
 Seated in queenly grace. She from the sight 
 Did half-withhold her beauty, half revealed, 
 Half hid, amid those green and shining leaves, 
 Looking on her, I seemed to see again 
 The vision of my dream ; the face of God.
 
 Il6 THE LILY OF THE VALE. 
 
 And the white angel standing at His feet, 
 And all the fragrance of the heavenly fields 
 Renewed itself that hour. I hailed and blessed 
 The lovely grace, the maiden of my dream, 
 The incarnate cherub in the flower.
 
 TO THE SNOWDROP. 
 
 EFORE the first red buds of spring unfold, 
 Or cuckoo's voice is heard, thy face is 
 seen, 
 Flower of the winter hail ! 
 Thou wee sweet darling hail ! 
 
 Sweeter to me than April's opening buds. 
 Or flowers and scented blossoms of the May, 
 Thy snowy spotless white 
 And fresh green leaves appear. 
 
 The primrose and the violet bloom, in woods 
 Among their kind, but thou on the bare breast 
 
 Of earth, a single grace, 
 
 When all beside is reft.
 
 Il8 TO THE SNOWDROP. 
 
 Young Flora's messenger before her sent 
 
 To herald in her sweet approach ; thou com'st 
 
 A token and a pledge, 
 
 A lowly, meek evangel. 
 
 I gaze on thee, and dream the ecstasy 
 Of spring, the beauty of the spring, whose heart 
 Of mystery shall ope 
 In buds and blooms and glories. 
 
 Thou art to me, sweet flower, a thing of joy. 
 To me thou art a prophecy of beauty, 
 
 For ever beautiful. 
 
 For evermore a joy. 
 
 A snowdrop amid winter's snow, I too 
 Would bloom like thee in spotless purity : 
 Like thee would prophesy 
 Of sweetness yet to come.
 
 THE THROSTLE. 
 
 HE throstle singeth to his mate, 
 Within the green-wood tree, 
 Merrily, oh merrily — 
 Where the wild breeze bloweth free, 
 Ah, heart of mine, 
 What singeth he ? 
 
 Perched lightly on the leafy bough, 
 
 He trills his gentle lay. 
 While the dewdrop lies within the flower, 
 Just opening to the day. 
 
 From whose chalice fine. 
 Sips the wild bee !
 
 120 THE THROSTLE. 
 
 " Oh the world is ever young," singeth he, 
 
 " Ever new are Hfe and love, 
 Ever sweet, ever young" — so the carol flows- 
 And the branches sway above. 
 In their lively green, 
 By the spring new-dressed ! 
 
 " Oh, life is a goodly thing," sings he, 
 
 " And joy is its perfect crown." 
 And he flitteth away to the far-off fields. 
 Returning anon to his own, 
 When the sun is seen 
 In the rosy west. 
 
 The throstle singeth to his mate, 
 
 Within the green-wood tree. 
 Merrily, oh merrily. 
 
 Where the wild breeze bloweth free, 
 O heart of mine. 
 Thus singeth he !
 
 TO W. F. R. 
 
 ROM our loved Devon do I send 
 These winter flowers with greetings due, 
 
 On this his natal day. 
 To him who loves our Devon well, 
 And of her flowers has often sung 
 
 In many a charming lay ! 
 Around these snowdrops I would twine 
 Some simple lines to say how true 
 
 The wishes that are ours, 
 That still the added years may bring 
 To him their joys : the knell has rung 
 
 Alas ! in recent hours,
 
 122 TO W. F. R. 
 
 For one who shared his life's fine task, 
 Of loving helpfulness to all. 
 
 Come gently, gentle Time, 
 Dropping soft balsam from thy wing, 
 Oh, bid the suffering soul aspire 
 
 To heights the more sublime. 
 Our life is all a mingled woof; 
 The laugh leaps up, the tear-drops fall ; 
 
 Lend kindly Heaven thy light, 
 That we may act our part and sleep; 
 Strike out some music from the lyre, 
 
 Then welcome the still night ! 
 
 But I forget ; accept dear friend 
 The cordial greeting offered now — 
 
 May truest happiness 
 Encircle still that ripe old age 
 That has for its most perfect crown 
 
 Heaven's love, yet owns no less 
 Man's too, the best of earthly good ! 
 May gentle fingers smooth the brow 
 
 Adorned with silvery hair
 
 TO W. F. R. 123 
 
 In ministry most beautiful 
 Within the home, and others own 
 
 Without that home, how fair 
 Th' example of a virtuous life, 
 And by its pattern shape their deeds. 
 
 Ever with palm in palm 
 The Past and Future stand, oh may 
 They sing most clearly to your ear 
 
 I'heir grandest sweetest psalm ! 
 Accept, dear Sir, this lowly gift, 
 Devon has nourished from her seeds 
 
 These little snow-white flowers. 
 Take them and let them be a sign 
 That to the people you are dear, 
 
 Native to her green bowers ! 
 
 ft' 
 
 Torrington, 
 
 29th January, 1883.
 
 ^i^ S3?^ 
 
 SELF-SACRIFICE. 
 
 AWOKE from troubled sleep, 
 
 In the hush of the solemn night, 
 Through the curtainless window streamed 
 The rays of the pale moonlight. 
 All the house was still ! 
 
 The bird in the nest was mute, 
 
 I heard but the tinkling sound, 
 In the daisied meadow without 
 
 As it meandered and meandered around, 
 Of a little rill ! 
 
 In my heart the longing woke. 
 For the voice, the touch, the kiss,
 
 SELF-SACRIFICE. 12$ 
 
 Of one that was gone from me. 
 All day and all night I long 
 
 For that presence so sweet ! 
 
 My dearest, my sister, mine own, , 
 
 Never, ah ! never more 
 Comest thou to me to kiss 
 
 From that shadowy far-off shore 
 Where linger thy feet ! 
 
 The twin of my spirit was she. 
 
 We grew like two flowers on a- stalk. 
 
 And shared still the golden-bright hours, 
 In the task, in the study, the walk 
 By the glancing sea wave ! 
 
 She died in her beautiful bloom ; 
 
 She faced a great danger, and said, 
 " 'Tis my duty to do it ! " and fell. 
 
 Not regretting her own life was paid 
 Another to save ! 
 
 So I moan in my pain, and cry, 
 " Is the light gone out in the dark.
 
 126 SELF-SACRIFICE. 
 
 The light of that beautiful life ? 
 Hath the arrow shot at the mark 
 Fallen in vacant air ? " 
 
 Was I waking or sleeping just then? 
 
 Warm fingers were clasped about mine, 
 Gently and firmly and close ; 
 
 I saw the glorious eyes shine 
 Through the flowing hair 
 
 That fell as a golden veil 
 
 Round the white-robed figure fair ! 
 I knew her, mine own, again, 
 
 As I saw her standing there. 
 And my heart was at rest ! 
 
 The vanished years came back, 
 She was mine as in days of old, 
 
 Just herself, the same dear self, 
 And seeing, my soul waxed bold : 
 " Dear love, on your breast
 
 SELF-SACRIFICE. 12/ 
 
 Let me lay my weary head." 
 
 Then she spoke in sweet tones and low, 
 " Shall I sing you a song I love, 
 
 An old sad song whose woe 
 Is sweeter than joy?" 
 
 " Dear, sing it," I said, " that song ; 
 
 What you like must I like too. 
 Oh, sing as you sang that day, 
 
 In the bower where the June roses blew, 
 Whose sweets did cloy ! " 
 
 This was the lay : 
 
 " Afar in a tower by the sea, 
 A maiden sitteth. 
 
 Around and around the tower. 
 The sea-bird flitteth 
 
 All the livelong day ! 
 
 " Maiden beautiful, 
 
 She dwells in the old grey tower 
 Under spell of magic,
 
 i28 SELF-SACRIFICE. 
 
 There dwelleth she till the years 
 Bring her fate most tragic : 
 Meekly dutiful, 
 
 " For the gods willed it ! 
 
 She looketh toward the east, 
 Where each new morning 
 
 The sun-rays climbing the skies 
 With brightest adorning 
 Tenderly gild it. 
 
 " Around the old tower 
 
 A venomous serpent is twining, 
 
 Chmbing and clinging 
 
 Closer and higher each year, 
 
 While the maiden is singing 
 Aloft in her bower. 
 
 "Gigantic of size 
 
 He enringeth and twineth the tower, 
 That mystical dragon, 
 
 Slowly, one coil with each year. 
 Like wine in a flagon 
 Sparkle his eyes !
 
 SELF-SACRIFICE. 1 29 
 
 " When his gold-green crest 
 
 He shall lift to the top of the tower, 
 
 Alas, for the maiden, 
 
 No hope, but she falleth his prey ! 
 
 When the clouds storm-laden 
 Sail out of the west, 
 
 "They pour down thick rain. 
 
 Such weeping should be for her fate ! 
 
 Lo ! a white sail is flying, 
 A little boat shows afar off, 
 
 Now it is hying 
 
 Across the blue main ! 
 
 *' One Cometh to save, 
 
 A youth in his beauty and strength ; 
 He loves the fair lady, 
 
 He comes the fierce dragon to slay 
 The green palms shady. 
 Do proudly wave 
 
 " O'er the conqueror's car. 
 
 When he cometh from war with his spoils, 
 But what shall be given
 
 130 SELF-SACRIFICE. 
 
 To him who fighteth alone ? 
 Lo ! his spear it is driven — 
 Ye gods shall he scar 
 
 " That gold-plated crest ? 
 
 His spear it is piercing the snake, 
 He unrolls from the tower 
 
 His great coils, relaxing in death. 
 The maid in her bower. 
 
 Sings, ' Greatest and best, 
 
 " ' Oh bravest of knights ! ' 
 
 Alas for the youth, ah, the woe ! 
 
 Though he slayeth the dragon 
 
 He takes his own hurt to the death. 
 
 The years will lag on. 
 
 Slow ripening men's rights, 
 
 " But that beautiful youth 
 
 Will champion the helpless no more ! 
 Now he is lying 
 
 Low at the lady's feet, — 
 Ah ! he is dying, 
 
 Well proven his truth !
 
 SELF-SACRIFICE. 1 3 1 
 
 " ' From thy prison-tower, 
 
 Daughter of the gods, go free ! 
 Go in thy fair beauty. 
 
 Lift on men thy glorious brow ! 
 Sure it was my duty 
 
 Thus my life to pour. 
 
 " ' Weep not thou for me ; 
 
 'Tis a little thing, I die 
 To save thee, lady. 
 
 Crown thou with a kiss my deed. 
 To the regions shady 
 
 Bear I thoughts of thee ! ' 
 
 " So he died that day, 
 
 By the old grey tower by the sea, 
 But the maiden is living, 
 
 And beauty and joy unto men . 
 She is bounteously giving 
 As she goeth her way." 
 
 I woke with mine eyelids wet 
 
 ^Vith the tears of the happy dream.
 
 132 SELF-SACRIFICE. 
 
 In the pale heart of the east, 
 Was coming then the first beam 
 Of the rosy dawn. 
 
 The earth was dewy and fresh, 
 
 With the green sprays waving to and fro 
 
 In the park, beneath the trees, 
 By the silver-footed doe 
 Ran the young fawn. 
 
 Ah me ! it was but a dream, 
 
 But it lulled the pain at my heart, 
 
 So the god-like on earth may be free 
 To act out its beautiful part ! 
 'Tis noble to die ! 
 
 In the cause of the lofty and true, 
 The life that's ungrudgingly given 
 
 Is like the rich wine that is poured 
 In sacred libation to Heaven 
 In sacrifice high.
 
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