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 THE LILY OF THE LYN 
 
 AND OTHER POEMS
 
 THE LILY OF THE LYN 
 
 AND OTHER POEMS 
 
 
 BY 
 
 H. J. SKINNER 
 
 LONDON 
 KEGAN PAUL, TRENCH & CO., i, PATERNOSTER SQUARE 
 
 1884
 
 [The rights of translation and of reproduction are reserved.'
 
 
 DEDICATORY PREFACE. 
 
 P.eaf England, 
 
 Since to thee I send my verse, 
 And shake its flutt'ring leaves before thy wind 
 Of mighty censorship, a cutting blast 
 That withers to the death the immature, 
 But lifts the fuller leaf to higher realms, 
 Deal gently with my song ! 
 
 In darker days 
 Than these in which all knowledge swiftly moves, 
 The light of immortality has shone 
 On great king-poets, happy sons of thine ; 
 As surely now its lustrous rays shall fall 
 On him whose classic music thrills thy shores 
 From wave to wave with perfect melodies, 
 Who, singing for the age in which he lives, 
 Has trilled a song of ages from his lips ; 
 
 858817
 
 vi DEDICATORY PREFACE. 
 
 Who justly wears upon his lordly brows 
 
 A Nation's laurels, through whose leaves is seen 
 
 The chaplet of an empyrean fame. 
 
 Not unto me is giv'n the magic voice, 
 
 Which, ringing as it were from mountain tops, 
 
 Awakes a people's hearts ; my simple song 
 
 Is meant for quiet vales, its merit none 
 
 Save words that all may know, e'en though it chance 
 
 They love them not as set to my poor tune. 
 
 I sing the while I labour for my bread 
 
 Amid a city's wheels, without the pow'r 
 
 To compass anywise a Poet's peace. 
 
 Full well I know my leaf is born to fade 
 Nor ever wear the gloss of evergreen, 
 Yet if it float the while thou deign'st to say, 
 It hath a pleasant form, a stainless front, 
 I seek no other guerdon of my toil. 
 
 H. J. S.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 TAGE 
 
 The Ljt -i oi .he Lyn ... ... ... ... i 
 
 Only a Dog ! ... ... .. ... ... 22 
 
 Stands ^ro Maud ... ... ... ... ... 23 
 
 Pallida Mors ... ... ... ... ... 33 
 
 A Reverie ... ... ... ... ... ... 34 
 
 Lines on the Death of Prince Louis Napoleon 38 
 
 Muriel .. ... ... ... ... ... 40 
 
 The Pool ... ... ... ... ... 42 
 
 A Fragment ... ... ... ... ... 45 
 
 A Song of the Sea ... ... ... .. 46
 
 THE LILY OF THE LYN. 
 
 .• - 
 
 — t .— < — M f -i ■ .- 
 
 '■ 
 
 ERRATUM, 
 Page 42, line 6, /w "stars " read "stares. 
 
 And straightway perish from a craven heart 
 (For so it is within this century's laws) ; 
 After the hours of conflict, with a sigh, 
 I sit me down to tell a simple tale. 
 
 In happier years, when all my blood was young, 
 And brooked no long imprisonment to toil, 
 I fled the whirl of London, and escaped 
 To comely Devon, where her saucy Lyns, 
 Leaping from noiseless heights of barren down,
 
 THE LILY OF THE LYN. 
 
 '\)js -these my later days, with love of life 
 *-N©t wholly dead within me, holding yet 
 'High" gift of health from an all-gracious God, 
 With all my battle-harness on my back, 
 Which I must wear in strife with all the world 
 For simple leave to live, or, coward-like, 
 Forsake the battle's brunt for slothful peace, 
 And straightway perish from a craven heart 
 (For so it is within this century's laws) ; 
 After the hours of conflict, with a sigh, 
 I sit me down to tell a simple tale. 
 
 In happier years, when all my blood was young, 
 And brooked no long imprisonment to toil, 
 I fled the whirl of London, and escaped 
 To comely Devon, where her saucy Lyns, 
 Leaping from noiseless heights of barren down, 
 
 B
 
 THE LILY OF THE LYN. 
 
 Made riot in their gorges to the sea ; 
 Where ferns, awaking from a winter's sleep, 
 With curls of tend'rest green refreshed the eye, 
 And maiden grass, pearled with the morning dew 
 As though in tears of joy at warmth to come, 
 Or weeping for the hunger of the kine, 
 New touched a landscape lately blurred by frost ; 
 Enough of winter left to tell its tale, 
 Enough of spring to make one vish for more. 
 
 Would the swift flow of genius were mine, 
 Or even ready wit, that I might write 
 As some men paint their pictures, so that you, 
 Reading, might see the scenes which I beheld 
 Or as I now behold them, beauteous, 
 Although mine eyes are wreathen with the mists 
 Of many tearful years, and I do lack 
 The glamour of a youthful heart to gild 
 The falt'ring mem'ries of my ev'ning rest ! 
 
 And grief is mine that my sweet blameless flow'r, 
 My only love, the love of all my years, 
 My gentle maid, the richest of bright gems, 
 Should have so ill a setting ; but my thoughts,
 
 THE LILY OF THE LYN. 
 
 Long blunted by the life I live, have lost 
 The power to picture truly aught but her. 
 And how should I, who when I saw her first 
 Felt all the landscape fade before my eyes, 
 And melt into a mist, with her sweet form 
 The sun and centre of my gaze, all else 
 The shadowed radiance of her loveliness, — 
 How' should I write or think of aught but her? 
 
 • .A yeoman's only child, but doubly dear 
 As being the one memorial of the love 
 Which crown'd his earlier years, with all the cares 
 Of household thrift upon her golden head, 
 Her gentle ways subdued the hearts of all. 
 No dog but fawned upon her light caress, 
 No horse but whinnied at her quiet voice, 
 No servant of the farm but worshipped her, 
 And tendered her the reverence of a queen. 
 
 How that I first, when casting o'er the stream, 
 Which ran within a gunshot of the house, 
 Intent upon my sport which promised well, 
 Knew of her presence, I know not ; but now 
 It shames me much, that ere my eyes met hers,
 
 THE LILY OF THE LYN. 
 
 My thoughts were touched with anger, for the fear 
 Of loss fell on me, having marked the rise 
 Of goodly fish, which fled at her approach. 
 But when her beauty drew my fretful gaze, 
 And magnet-wise enchained it, I stood mute 
 In wonderment and awe, as one who sees 
 Some marvel of the skies, and straightway reads 
 A message to himself; so watched I her, 
 As I had watched an angel fresh from heav'n. 
 White as the virgin snows her simple gown, 
 High-gathered at her neck, and softly laid 
 In modest fold upon her rounded breast, 
 Her waist inbelted by no harsher zone 
 Than showed a perfect form, her beauteous face- 
 Well, just that sweet ideal face, no less, 
 Which poets dream of, artists fail to paint. 
 
 Beneath my feet the river darkly ran, 
 Sullen and deep and silent in its strength, 
 But by the further margin where she came 
 Slipt over golden shallows dancingly, 
 A narrow belt of shingle, sloping lay, 
 Betwixt the gleaming woodland and the brim, 
 And gilding all, the glorious April sun.
 
 THE LILY OF THE LYN. 5 
 
 With dainty step she crossed the pebbly belt 
 
 Which made a baby sea-shore to her feet, 
 
 And by. the stream unconsciously she knelt, 
 
 Dashing her happy hands beneath the flow 
 
 With rippling- laughter and a childlike joy, 
 
 And all the hope of summer in her eyes. 
 
 Then on a sudden, with instinctive glance, — 
 
 For. I stood noiseless as one hewn in stone, 
 
 Awf scarce had drawn more breath, — she met my gaze, 
 
 AtuLsilence fell upon her as she rose, 
 
 A gentle wave of blush upon her cheek, 
 
 And vanished as a golden sun in cloud. 
 
 Who that has borne a winter's sullen gloom, 
 
 And lived to feel the first warm rays of sun, 
 
 Subtler than winter fires or summer wine, 
 
 Stir all his curdled blood to instant joy, 
 
 Knows not the icy chill when that same sun 
 
 Draws a dark robe of cloud across his face, 
 
 And moves the heavens to tears ? Who has not longed 
 
 To live a life of love beyond that cloud, 
 
 Or have no cloud at all? 
 
 Such thoughts were mine 
 As my sweet planet left me, whilst my heart
 
 THE LILY OF THE LYN. 
 
 Leapt out for me to follow, but the stream, 
 So loved before she came, so hated now, 
 Barred all my progress with its swirling deeps. 
 With straining eyes I strove to pierce the screen 
 Of interlacing boughs which veiled her path, 
 But nothing saw, yet fancied trail of light 
 And dreamed a scent far sweeter than of flowers. 
 Over the primrose carpet of the wood, 
 Enriched with varied hyacinth here and there, 
 My maid had stept, encircled by my love 
 Unknowing. 
 
 No fishing more for me ! I went 
 With slow, uncertain step toward my inn 
 And questioned cautiously the village folk, 
 Setting a puzzle in their honest heads ; 
 Then like a spaniel in an open wood 
 Ranged all the country with a careful haste, 
 But saw no more, nor heard, of her that day. 
 That night the moon, in flood of silver sheen, 
 Found me alone upon the tide-washed beach, 
 For close the salt wave lapped the village wall ; 
 Calm weather there, with gentle sound of sea, 
 Whilst from my feet a glittering pathway ran 
 Athwart the sea-breast to the northern star
 
 THE LILY OF THE LYN. 
 
 One weary craft with closely folded wings 
 
 Slept silver-crested in the ghostly haze. 
 
 A night of love and peace, and as I stretched 
 
 My limbs upon the shingle, thoughts of her, 
 
 Who freighted all my memory with delight, 
 
 Rose on swift wings and fluttered through the stars. 
 
 ■:^ Who was this maid who with her simple ways 
 
 - ■* 
 '-"Held such a magic power to move my life, 
 
 *V .And change its very essence at a glance? 
 
 Troubled at heart, I vexed my shallow brain 
 
 And sought an answer in the listless heav'ns ; 
 
 Last, slept with nature round me till the chill 
 
 Of wakened wind had shivered me to sense. 
 
 Rearward the solemn Tors made earth of heav'n, 
 
 And claspt me with huge giant hands of shade ; 
 
 The moon had dug herself a vaporous grave, 
 
 The slumb'ring craft was waked by fretful waves, 
 
 And all things seemed unhappy as I rose 
 
 And wandered blindly to a sleepless bed. 
 
 How I first gained the knowledge of her home 
 And threw myself in her accustomed ways, 
 Not rudely, but with reverential step,
 
 THE LILY OF THE LYN. 
 
 Nor seeking yet her eyes, but feeling joyed 
 If I but knew her presence in the air, 
 It profits not to tell. But of that day 
 When talking with her father in the mead 
 I saw her coming through the modest flowers, 
 That bowed their heads, all tremulous with love, 
 Thankful if they might kiss her feet and die, 
 I cannot choose but speak ; for even now 
 My nature stirs within me through the crust 
 Heaped by a sordid world upon my soul 
 To stem its utterance, but heaped in vain. 
 Through all the lapse of years my inner eye 
 Pictures the silent sweetness of that morn 
 When Nature donned her tend'rest for my love, 
 Not wearing Summer's meretricious garb 
 Of gaudy colour in the full-blown bloom, 
 With wealth of scented languor in the air, 
 But bright and fresh from wash of April showers 
 And healthful breezes from the rolling sea ; 
 Youth in her crisp and smiling face, yet still 
 The gentle promise of a fuller time. 
 
 More bright than all I see my maiden move 
 Within the short hour of that April day.
 
 * - 
 
 A. 
 
 THE LILY OF THE LYN. 
 
 With such a flow of graces in her form 
 And such a charm of blossom on her cheek, 
 To me she seems a creature of the spring 
 With not one thought of winter in her soul. 
 
 Alas ! that I should lack the power to tell 
 Of how my love gave her sweet love to me ! 
 I dare not seek to follow one by one 
 " Our quiet walks beneath the budding trees, 
 „ Our wanderings by the Lyn, forgiven now 
 The only wrong it wrought me, and revered 
 A hundred thousand fold for that my love 
 In all her simple joy did love it so — 
 A stream to lead a sober man astray 
 With beauties new and new from end to end, 
 A varied Eden on its either bank, 
 A sweet song in its waters ; murm'ringly 
 The drooping branches kiss upon its breast, 
 The frequent cascade diamond-bearded here 
 Dances aflame with sun, there closed in shade 
 Lashes itself in rage and violent foam ; 
 A stream that holds such multitude of grace 
 That I who know it in its ev'ry mood 
 Must see it yet once more before I die.
 
 io THE LILY OF THE LYN. 
 
 Shall there be wonder we two, dreaming on 
 As of eternal present, gave brief thought 
 To coming parting ? That it came on us 
 As comes within the night the sudden foe 
 On a defenceless city unprepared, 
 Followed by panic and the loss of all ? 
 
 To me a letter, written many days 
 Eut hid within the mystery of the post 
 And carelessly tost on from hand to hand, 
 Came as the shock of earthquake. 
 
 Heavy fall 
 And cruel crush of horses in the field 
 Had thrust my father in the trembling scale 
 Of life or death, the writer knew not which, 
 But bade me on the instant to return. 
 Such was the flush of riot in my brain 
 My mind scarce holds the mem'ry of that eve, 
 The ev'ning of my good-bye to my love. 
 Good-bye, indeed ! For never yet did lips, 
 Though seasoned with much heaven in their touch, 
 Meet as did ours that night ; but graven deep 
 As in a tablet of unyielding brass, 
 Withn the kernel of my heart of hearts
 
 THE LILY OF THE LYN. n 
 
 I see the fiat of her father's will : 
 
 " For one whole year — no less, no more — should I 
 
 Leave her in peace and trust to his good faith ; 
 
 Xo letter should be writ betwixt us two, 
 
 Nor even might I hope to hear of her ; 
 
 Yet if through that year's space our minds stood firm, 
 
 And I, accredited with fair report, 
 
 Should^eome again to seek her, truly he 
 
 'Would give his blessing and a something more." 
 
 There at the last beneath her father's porch 
 
 She stood, the love-light breaking through her tears, 
 
 With fealty whispered on her trembling lip 
 
 Which met my own in passionate embrace. 
 
 One quiv'ring of long lashes on each cheek, 
 
 One breathless prayer of soul for soul, and then — 
 
 Ah me ! on that same day I journey'd back 
 
 W ith eastward step into the busy world, 
 
 Bitter in thought of that o'erhanging year, 
 
 But full of all my passionate love for her. 
 
 I, who by grace of God do still retain 
 
 An average memory of most common things,
 
 12 THE LILY OF THE LYN. 
 
 Am powerless but slenderly to trace 
 
 The long-drawn cycle of my banishment. 
 
 I see my father mended of his hurt, 
 
 I see myself impatient of duress 
 
 Walking in sacred ways for love of her. 
 
 Last, grasping freedom, with exultant step, 
 
 Lightened of care, inebriate with joy, 
 
 I stood upon the sea-girt wall once more 
 
 Which clasped my western village ; there beheld 
 
 The sea-board wild with fury, crested high 
 
 With foam-ridge, seething, here and there dark rifts 
 
 Yawning and closing, driv'n in serrate line 
 
 And sucking hungrily the barren shore ; 
 
 Above, the clouds in angry blot and smear 
 
 Swept by the thund'ring equinox, and close 
 
 The passion of the river ; fishermen, 
 
 In idle knots of two or three, crouched low 
 
 At sheltered corners, grim and trumpet-mouthed 
 
 Before the storm. Wind buffeted and drenched, 
 
 I strode the narrow street toward the inn, 
 
 Feeling the storm-blast less and less, for scarp 
 
 And Tor uprising folded it in peace 
 
 Save for the river's madness. 
 
 Irksomely
 
 THE LILY OF THE LYN. 13 
 
 I watched the lagging hand-points of the clock 
 
 Cling to its dial-face, for weary hours 
 
 Must. live their lives ere, bounden by my bond, 
 
 „ I dared to claim my love as promised wife. 
 My year of condemnation yet did lack 
 A day of its completion, which no act 
 Born of a brainless haste should prejudice. 
 Revolving silently a thousand thoughts 
 <6f all her faultless graces, knowing her truth 
 
 /•-Tq be the truth of one who cannot lie, 
 I "suddenly bethought me to unearth 
 Those of the place I knew in former time, 
 And lead them on by cunning paths and ways 
 To speak of her ; so should my heart be eased, 
 Until the stroke of night-time ; but when found, 
 Those who had loosed a twinkle in their eyes 
 And in the happy days had slipt their work 
 For laughter's sake, revealed no ghost of smile, 
 And drifted into silence ; stranger still, 
 If I but lighted on a merry group 
 Tossing the shuttle of a harmless jest 
 Between them, all their music died away 
 As at a piteous sight, and one by one, 
 Stamm'ring excuses to my " Hail, well met ! "
 
 14 THE LILY OF THE LYN. 
 
 Or waiving answer with averted face 
 
 All slid away, so that I seemed like oil 
 
 Spilt on the bosom of a dancing lake. 
 
 At last one blund'ring, garrulous old dame, 
 
 Ever the foremost in the mart of news, 
 
 Starting the mill-clack of her ready tongue 
 
 Noised all her sorrow for me. She had known 
 
 The Alpha of our loves, and needs must tell 
 
 The Omega of all. When she began 
 
 With rambling recognition of my face, 
 
 I, in my joy and thinking of the morrow, 
 
 Snatching a pleasure in the meanest things 
 
 Which chronicled our love, smiled on her speech ; 
 
 But when she mouthed her pity, quickly I, 
 
 Winding a coming evil from her lip, 
 
 As scents the stag the hounds he neither sees 
 
 Nor hears, yet knows a danger in the air, 
 
 Felt pallid fear creep through my ruddy mirth, 
 
 Whilst life within me fell. Dimly I heard 
 
 The cracked and quav'ring treble of her voice 
 
 Sweeping the gamut in a wild discord, 
 
 Weaving a hamlet's history with ours 
 
 Which, winnowed by the fan of rapid thought, 
 
 Told of a raging sickness fall'n on her
 
 * 
 
 THE LILY OF THE LYN. 15 
 
 Whose health and life were mine. 
 
 On this there came 
 Such trace of blight upon me that she ceased, 
 Fearful of telling more, and when my voice, 
 " " Say she but lives, and I'll forgive thee all ! " 
 Burst in a broken utterance, she stood 
 Tranced in a silence speaking more than words. 
 
 -♦ 
 
 ^reat-*God ! was this the end of all for me ? 
 ' Wtts -tfrts the truth ? or was it but a lie 
 * Hatched in a rotten brain ? Yet as I turned 
 And fled towards her father's house, I knew 
 The doom was fall'n. In answer to my cry, 
 The bitter truth was burnt into my brain ; 
 Dead, dead ! the wail from ev'ry neighb'ring tree, 
 And ever as I went an echo passed 
 Before me with a mournful dirge of death. 
 
 But slender sign of tilth upon the farm, 
 Within the pastured hollows ruddy kine 
 Stood ruminant and huddled from the storm ; 
 A mournful bleat of folded sheep and lambs 
 Threaded the howling wind, and voiceless birds 
 Flapped in the naked hedgerows ; house and yard
 
 1 6 THE LILY OF THE LYN. 
 
 Were drenched with drip of rainfall, whilst the smoke 
 Scant from the chimneys hung upon the thatch ; 
 And there was spread around such broad decay 
 Of things uncultured, that the very farm 
 Seemed dying, as I drew beneath the roof 
 Into her father's presence. There he sat, 
 Shrunken in sable, heaped within his chair, 
 A strong man stricken to senility. 
 
 What need to tell how wild reproach was drowned 
 
 In mutual anguish for our mutual loss ? 
 
 He with a broken and tear- blotted voice 
 
 Spoke, and I dreamed his words, or seemed to dream : 
 
 " God help us, boy, for we are like and like 
 
 In our bereavement. I am bent and bowed, 
 
 Beyond all knowledge for a healthy man, 
 
 Without one purpose in my coming life, 
 
 If life shall yet stay with me. Her I saw 
 
 Grow from her infant days to what she was, 
 
 My anchor on a weather-beaten shore. 
 
 And now what matters it, since I must drift 
 
 Alone unto my death, when death shall come ? 
 
 For me the wheat shall never bloom again, 
 
 Nor burnished sickle cleave the amber straw,
 
 THE LILY OF THE LYN. 17 
 
 Nor ever shine the moon on harvest nights, 
 Never the flail disclose the gilded grain, 
 But. I shall wither slowly to mine end, 
 - A sapless willow in a barren land, 
 
 With never a glint of sun to comfort me ! " 
 
 Here all his languid pulses drooped, and faint 
 And fainter came his breath ; the haggard eyes, 
 
 '-olazing with sorrow, as a stagnant pool 
 
 x. Gathers the crystal ice-shafts into film 
 Under a night of frost. With fitful moan 
 He rocked himself into a muttering sleep, 
 And so I left him, holding mine own grief 
 The holier of the two ; and longing sore 
 To give it ease and vent in loneliness, 
 I struck the path toward the village church, 
 The village churchyard where my love was laid. 
 
 The place, how well I knew it ! I had passed 
 Many a Sabbath morning in its midst, 
 And loved the sweet voice of its only bell 
 Better than noisy clang and constant change 
 Of twenty cathedral chimes. Lovingly 
 Nooked in an upland hollow softly scooped
 
 1 8 THE LILY OF THE LYN. 
 
 Betwixt the brown ribs of the barren down, 
 It nestled in the gloom of restless trees, 
 Old giant-bearded fathers of the field, 
 Whose long arms waved in blessing or in curse, 
 Whose roots were cloistered in the velvet sward. 
 
 Lightly my hand fell on the wicket latch, 
 As timorous souls will touch an altar rail 
 From knowledge of their worthlessness, in fear 
 Lest I should wake her, I who would have giv'n 
 My life to wake her to the earth again. 
 The heav'ns were dropping tears to mix with mine 
 That welled from out the geyser of my heart 
 Like life-blood bursting from a wounded fawn ; 
 And all about was smell of soddened earth 
 And disarray of nature. Ribbed and grim, 
 The little church roof, like a martyr's back 
 Bared to the bitter thong of bigotry, 
 Quivered from lash of branches in the storm ; 
 The sad-eyed window in the chancel wall 
 Blinked pain and pity, and the aged tower 
 Leaned in a mute appeal against the sky. 
 
 Seeking her name amidst th' unblotted few
 
 THE LILY OF THE LYN. 19 
 
 Survivors of the crust and wreck of time, 
 I found a bank of fresh turned soil, and read 
 My.." Lily " in the whiteness of the stone. 
 
 All the long night I whispered to her grave, 
 Believing her bright soul should answer me, 
 Or broke in sudden blasphemy of thought 
 » Against high heaven for its cruel wrong, 
 . Ox- twisted scripture to my narrow brain : 
 
 '- 
 
 . '*■• 
 
 If I had fought the evils of this world 
 
 As fought Saint Paul with beasts at Ephesus, 
 Where was the gain to me if my sweet dead 
 Arose not ? if my eyes should never see 
 The flower so stolen from my garden world ? " 
 Fevers of madness shook my tottering brain, 
 Cold drift of storm benumbed me, till the dawn 
 Rolled in a shroud of vapour ghostly white, 
 And creeping on, half blind, from tree to tree, 
 Hushed my wild wailing in the loss of sense, 
 And left me there a riven shattered thing. 
 
 Not until length of sweetest summer days 
 
 Had filled the land with odour, flowed my blood
 
 20 THE LILY OF THE LYN. 
 
 In its accustomed channels ; slowly then 
 My flaccid muscles gathered into power, 
 Mocking desire of death ; and gentle thoughts 
 Coming unbidden (as the seeds of plants 
 Dropt by the flitting birds in careless love 
 Within a yawning seam of sundered land 
 Clothe all its gaping wounds with leaf and flower 
 Till eye and sense forget the ruin-crash) 
 Cloistered my heart-wreck from the gazing world. 
 
 Thus have I climbed from weakness unto strength, 
 
 From gloom to daylight, learning quiet ways 
 
 Of nursing sorrow sacredly ; my heart, 
 
 With calmer throbbing day by day, has grown 
 
 A peaceful mausoleum of the past ; 
 
 But in its solemn chamber hushed and still 
 
 There lies the frozen body of my grief, 
 
 Never to wholly thaw whilst life doth last, 
 
 And yielding only when as on this night 
 
 A sweet warm wind of memory touches it. 
 
 Yet in this after-time of hustling toil 
 And busy struggle with my fellow man,
 
 THE LILY OF THE LYN. 21 
 
 In which I but fulfil a wise decree, 
 With never a fierce desire for this world's goods 
 Or bitter longing for the trumpet Fame, 
 - I hold keen sense of duty to my God 
 To wait uripining for His own good time 
 When haply I may win the solemn leave 
 To meet my love again.
 
 22 
 
 ONL Y A DOG. 
 
 Only a dog ! you say, but look at his kindly face : 
 The spark of devotion there I oft miss in the Christian 
 race. 
 
 Only a dog, forsooth ! yet the day when his master died, 
 Mangled and crushed in a hollow rent in the mountain 
 side, 
 
 He watched o'er the poor cold clay, with the pitiless snow- 
 drift around him ; 
 
 And, starving, he guarded him too, when, six days after, 
 I found him. 
 
 Only a dog, sweet heav'n ! yet I trust when my own time 
 
 is come 
 I may find such a friend by my side as this friend that is 
 
 faithful though dumb.
 
 23 
 
 STANZAS TO MAUD. 
 
 -tf ^~* 
 
 ' -Maud, my own, not Tennyson's Maud, 
 But a Maud more exquisite still — 
 Queen of all hearts and empress of mine, 
 Arch-tyrant or angel at will. 
 
 Maud with the shapely limbs, 
 And Maud with the dangerous eyes, 
 Maud with a hundred loving looks, 
 Which for me are cruellest lies. 
 
 What to me is the fathomless depth 
 Of eyes that out-rival the sea ? 
 What to me a voice both tender and sweet 
 If it be not so only to me ?
 
 24 STANZAS TO MAUD. 
 
 Nestled she not in these arms 
 To bewilder my soul with her smiles ? 
 Drank I not the honey of her sweet breath ? 
 Fell I not by the least of her wiles ? 
 
 Do I most hate her or love her ? 
 I know not, nor will I be sworn ; 
 But if any other should hate her, 
 Or if any other dare love her, 
 Be his heritage hatred and scorn ! 
 
 Can it be that the mind is small 
 
 In that dear little velvet-crown'd head, 
 
 That she finds such delight in the giving of pain ?- 
 
 Ay, finds it and deals it again and again, 
 
 Till I long for the peace of the dead. 
 
 But the pain is never so deep 
 
 That a word will not take it away ; 
 
 That a smile from the heaven of her bright lips 
 
 Will not turn my night into day. 
 
 I get but a crumb at a time, 
 
 Who am starving for Love's sweet food,
 
 STANZAS TO MAUD. 25 
 
 Till I feel like the ravenous Arctic beast 
 That mangles and tears the veriest shred 
 Cast from the flying sleigh, the least 
 Little torturing morsel of life-giving bread 
 That maddens the hungry mood. 
 
 Yet who am I that complain, 
 When I never can wish to be free ? 
 "„^Fer tet her be cruel, or false, or worse, 
 ■ - Lset -far prove my poor life's bitterest curse, 
 * .She "wiU alway be dear to me. 
 
 II. 
 
 So gracious has been my love this day, 
 The earth to my feet is as air ; 
 Never since being first stirred in this frame 
 Has the world seemed so wondrously fair. 
 
 As I walk, the sweet heavens are glowing 
 With myriad star-lights above; 
 But never an eye in the blueness aloft 
 Can match the dear eyes of my love.
 
 26 STANZAS TO MAUD. 
 
 A wind from the south softly blowing, 
 Comes rippling the grass at my feet j 
 But is there a zephyr whose scent-laden breath 
 Is soft as the breath of my sweet ? 
 
 The hives of us humans are quiet, 
 Hushed to a murmurless rest ; 
 But peacefuler still is the heav'n-born calm 
 That replaces the storm in my breast. 
 
 For has not my love been gracious 
 
 This golden spring day unto me ? 
 
 Have not words by her rosebud lips uttered 
 
 Been healing as winds from the sea ? 
 
 III. 
 
 Our love is not all of this world, 
 And may not be slain by death ; 
 So what care I for the bullet and steel 
 Which can only rob me of breath ?
 
 *• 
 
 STANZAS TO MAUD. 
 
 Though to-day the busy assassins 
 Stalk with their murderous knives ; 
 Though autocrats fall and dynasties die, 
 .- True love for ever survives. 
 
 And the pain of death, though bitter, 
 Is never the worst of pains ; 
 „ ♦ For though earthly love with the body shall die, 
 Thejpve of the soul remains. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Hark ! in the dead of the night, 
 
 When I know not what is befalling me, 
 
 I hear the sound of my darling's voice, 
 
 Over the tree-tops calling me. 
 
 I dash the curtains aside, 
 
 And peer in the ghostly gloom ; 
 
 I open the windows wide, 
 
 For my heart cannot beat in the room ; 
 
 And it leaps away out into space, 
 
 Away, away, for it has no choice,
 
 STANZAS TO MAUD. 
 
 But to follow, follow that beautiful voice, 
 
 And seek for the still more beautiful face. 
 
 It follows over the land and sea, 
 
 Follows it whithersoever it goes — 
 
 Over the blossoming tropical tree, 
 
 Over the hideous waste of snows, 
 
 Till at last it comes to the edge of the world ; 
 
 When lo ! in a fringe of cloud unfurled, 
 
 The one sweet face I adore, 
 
 Laughing in merry derision, 
 
 Mocking both me and my vision, 
 
 Till my cheated heart grows sick and sore, 
 
 And seeks once again its prison. 
 
 Is it true, or is it a venomous lie ? 
 Do I wake or sleep ? Shall I live or die ? 
 Answer me, answer me, beautiful voice ! 
 Shall I die this night, or live to rejoice 
 In the love of a woman true and fond, 
 Whose plighted troth is a marriage bond ? 
 Or do I but glean the fateful fraud 
 Sown by my darling, treacherous Maud ? 
 
 But never an answer comes, not one, 
 As I sit and watch for to-morrow's sun.
 
 STANZAS TO MAUD. 29 
 
 V. 
 
 This passion of love is hateful, 
 Unmans me for all that I do, 
 
 Dims the sight and palsies the hand, 
 And falsifies all that is true. 
 
 I cry for peace, but it comes not, 
 Either by night or by day ; 
 
 Only in death shall I find it, 
 In silence of passionless clay. 
 
 What to me is life but a battle 
 Where ever an enemy wins ? 
 
 A thunderous clashing of atoms, 
 A torment of poisonous sins ? 
 
 Where only the brazen-hearted 
 Can live by the power of a lie, 
 
 And the tenderer souls are broken, 
 And flung in the dust to die ?
 
 3 o STANZAS TO MAUD. 
 
 VI. 
 
 The snows of Maud's indifference melt, 
 And, like the sun-touched glaciers, roll 
 By slow degrees till streams of love 
 May burst from fountains of her soul. 
 
 Year after year a seed lies hid 
 Within a deep dark womb of earth ; 
 One touch may bring it to the sun 
 Whose loving smile may give it birth. 
 
 The iron-hard rock that coldly braves 
 The maddened wash of ocean's will 
 May soften into purest clay 
 Beneath the ever-dropping rill. 
 
 Then shall my wooing ever cease 
 
 Whilst love's warm sun may hold such pow'r, 
 
 Or importunity achieve 
 
 Success in any coming hour ?
 
 STANZAS TO MAUD. 31 
 
 VII. 
 
 The rosy month of June 
 Has come with gentle weather ; 
 Before July is past and gone 
 We two shall be together. 
 
 Bluff March blew out in storm, 
 Sweet April laughed whilst weeping ; 
 But happy May the promise heard, 
 Which gives her to my keeping. 
 
 The lawns are smoothly rolled, 
 
 The garden flow'rs are bedded ; 
 
 Or ever they show their proudest bloom 
 
 Maud and I will be wedded. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Speed on, old clock, for the hour is near, 
 When this foolish heart shall cease 
 To range the gamut of hope and fear, 
 And find a lifelong peace.
 
 STANZAS TO MAUD. 
 
 Flesh of my flesh, and bone of my bone, 
 When the last " I will !" is said; 
 No other's she, but my veriest own 
 Till the days of life are dead. 
 
 True and the kindest of her kind, 
 Fair as God's angels she ! 
 Mine for life ! — if vows can bind, 
 Mine for eternity ! 
 
 IX. 
 
 Ring out, church bells ! Glad people, shout ! 
 The bride, my queen, is coming out, 
 
 Over her path of flowers : 
 Her milk-white arm is linked in mine, 
 Our souls are one by grace divine ; 
 
 This happy day is ours ! 
 
 Clash out, brave notes, from organ keys ! 
 No joy shall live as lives in these 
 
 Wild moments of your thunder ! 
 What care I now what dreams may tell ? 
 Whom God hath join'd no pow'rs of hell 
 
 Shall ever tear asunder.
 
 33 
 
 ' 
 
 PALLIDA MORS. 
 
 • sweetly delicate for earthly touch, 
 / -TS.°lai ril y framed to be of aught but Heav'n, 
 '- The child-wife lay a-dying. 
 
 By her side, 
 And aching with a ceaseless dread of death, 
 High-souled, large-hearted, stood her earthly love, 
 A husband but in name. A mighty shield 
 To guard her from the world he might have been ; 
 But she, whilst virgin, like a blossom-leaf 
 Which loosed by hands invisible escapes 
 And floats away by gentle breezes drawn, 
 Slipt from the touch of earth away to heav'n.
 
 34 
 
 A REVERIE. 
 
 i 
 O spirit of life fast fleeting ! 
 O days that shall blossom no more ! 
 Is there nought my hand may quicken to birth 
 'Ere I drift to the deathless shore ? 
 
 ii. 
 
 O spirit of life within me ! 
 
 O spark of an impotent will ! 
 
 Shall my voice never utter one priceless word 
 
 That shall live when that voice is still ? 
 
 in. 
 O spirit of death immortal ! 
 O measureless life of the grave ! 
 Shall the crown of my gifts be a sepulchred thought ? 
 My pen be the pen of a slave ?
 
 A REVERIE. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Why miss I the tread of the years 
 
 Which busily, noisily pass ? 
 
 Why walk I all day blindly dreaming my dreams, 
 
 With footprints deep lost in the grass ? 
 
 v. 
 
 * Not mine is the meed of labour, 
 
 JS^umine the bright fame of the sword ; 
 - ^"-Though I reel in a battle of militant words 
 I win not the warrior's reward. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Not mine is the orator's tongue, 
 
 Nor mine the sweet voice of the bird ; 
 
 If I chatter all day I have nothing to say — 
 
 I toil with the colourless herd. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Perhaps when the links are sundered 
 Which bind me to labours of earth, 
 My soul shall discover the path I have missed 
 From the days of my profitless birth. 
 
 35
 
 3 6 A REVERIE. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Can it be that Death's dark shadow 
 Is numbing the hand and the brain ? 
 For my life-blood fails and energy dies 
 At the least little prick of pain. 
 
 IX. 
 
 Shall I cease to battle with waves 
 Whose arms are both cruel and strong ? 
 Shall I slothfully float to the unknown sea 
 On the bosom of manifest wrong ? 
 
 x. 
 
 Nay, rather I'll fight to the end, 
 Though my life be weary and sore, 
 Though breath wax faint in a timorous heart, 
 And I sink in sight of the shore. 
 
 XI. 
 
 For I know that the All-seeing Eye, 
 Beholding the work it has planned, 
 Shall give equal peace to the strugglers who sink 
 And those who have swum to the land.
 
 A REVERIE. 37 
 
 XII. 
 
 Then on with the armour of valour, 
 
 With " duty" my one battle-cry; 
 
 Though I perish with never a triumph achieved 
 
 There are crowns to be won by and bye. 
 
 '-
 
 38 
 
 LINES ON THE DEATH OF PRINCE 
 LOUIS NAPOLEON 
 
 Relentless Death fills yet another urn 
 And shatters sleeping Empire into dust ; 
 For how shall those who saw imperial France 
 Written on his young brows, and knew in him 
 Their only pilot to the coasts of pow'r, 
 Save from the cruel waves their fated ship ? 
 And how shall we who saw the Eagles driv'n 
 To build their lonely nest within our walls, 
 And rear their callow Eaglet in our midst, 
 Restrain the furtive tear above his grave ? 
 
 Such majesty as clothes a noble mind 
 A brave impetuous heart, a gifted brain, 
 A cheek untainted by the blush of shame, 
 Was his, who though an exile from his throne 
 Yet earned a crown of honour for his death.
 
 39 
 
 What time a Nation's grief may pass away 
 His widow'd mother still shall sit in tears 
 And anguish for her stainless soldier-son ; 
 But now we mourn together at the tomb, 
 
 i 
 
 And at her side a sister Empress kneels. 
 12th July, 1879. 
 
 -
 
 4o 
 
 MURIEL. 
 
 Fast the autumn sun is setting, 
 In its gleam the crimson dieth, 
 Sadly now the bittern crieth, 
 As I see thee, Muriel. 
 
 Low the darkling brook is fretting, 
 Seething bubbles, endless troubles, 
 Living, dying in the shade 
 Of the tree so darkly made, 
 Where I meet thee, Muriel. 
 
 All is sad, and the dreary lea 
 Moans like a restless, weary sea, 
 Chanting a bitter song to me 
 
 Of cruel death and dark farewell, 
 And all the sorrow that shall be, 
 
 My own, sweet loving Muriel.
 
 MURIEL. 41 
 
 I kiss the dew from off thine eyes, 
 And drink the whisper of thy lip ; 
 
 Our souls seem drawn beyond the skies, 
 In rapture, and I seem to dip 
 
 A step into eternity — 
 
 A deathless life of joy with thee, 
 My heav'nly Muriel. 
 
 I fold thee in a long embrace, 
 
 And hold thy tresses from thy face, 
 
 So I may read the wealth of love 
 Which floats and flashes in thine eye, 
 That love of loves which cannot die, 
 
 But lives into the world above, 
 With thee, my sacred Muriel. 
 
 But now the sun hath plung'd the main, 
 And the hollow wail hath ris'n again ; 
 Longer and louder I hear it grow, 
 Speaking a tongue thou can'st not know, 
 
 Bidding me take a last farewell ; 
 Sweet, my darling, must I go, 
 In such unutterable woe ? 
 
 Must I leave thee, Muriel ?
 
 42 
 
 THE POOL. 
 
 O'er rock and scar, o'er cliff and crag, 
 The East wind whistles cool ; 
 All night the silver-knotted flag 
 Trembles above the pool. 
 
 The naked moon, with lidless eye, 
 Stars over hill and plain ; 
 The ghostly landscape fretfully 
 Sleeps with a sleep of pain. 
 
 Far in the depths of woodland glades, 
 I hear a shiver pass, 
 And feel a grimness on the blades 
 Of all the meadow-grass.
 
 X- ' 
 
 THE POOL. 43 
 
 A house stands high on sloping lawns, 
 A house too high for me ; 
 I may but herd with browsing fawns, 
 And watch it distantly. 
 
 And in my heart is wildest love, 
 And there too bitt'rest hate 
 'For those who from that house above 
 Step downward to the gate. 
 
 My wasted hopes and wounded life 
 Are blood-writ in the sky : 
 What use in further toil and strife ? 
 Let me but go and die. 
 
 What more is there that I should learn 
 From eyes or ears this night ? 
 Better, far better, I should turn, 
 And blot the hateful sisjht. 
 
 *&* 
 
 Yet still I linger near the gate, 
 And see her peerless form, 
 Sink earthward, kneel, and supplicate, 
 A broken reed in storm.
 
 44 THE POOL. 
 
 I hear the jangling of the latch, 
 
 Mixt with the wild despair 
 
 That comes from broken heart, and catch 
 
 His whistle on the air. 
 
 Swift step of hate then comes to me ; 
 I reach the cruel fool 
 Soon as he sets his foot in glee 
 On the bridge above the pool. 
 
 ***** 
 
 And now the winds all whistle low 
 His tune across the flood, 
 And all the knotted flags which blow 
 Blossom in crimson blood.
 
 45 
 
 A FRAGMENT. 
 
 My younger brother trod the beach with me, 
 F>ivining, star-wise, his futurity 
 And morrow's dawn. 
 
 A sweep of one long roller on the sand, 
 A mighty grasping of some hidden hand, 
 And he was gone, 
 
 Sucked in the heavy waters of the deep, 
 For evermore to beat about and sleep, 
 The sleep of death. 
 
 The crash of restless breakers and the roar 
 Of some unhappy wind about the shore, 
 To hush his breath.
 
 46 
 
 A SONG OF THE SEA. 
 
 I. 
 
 Athwart low-lying breadths of dimpled sand, 
 Washed by the wave-tongues of an emerald sea, 
 And walled about with cliff whose pallid face 
 Smiles sadly under feebly frowning brows, 
 A fishing hamlet lies, pillowed in peace, 
 Swathed in the crimson shafts of Summer's sun 
 In occidental splendour of his death : 
 A little universe of simple souls, 
 Descendants of the Norse, a warrior race 
 With all their warlike ways disedged or lost 
 In gentleness and bravery on the seas. 
 
 There on the amber sands an infant group 
 Toying the coloured shell, and with them one, 
 Mary, the blue-eyed darling of the place, 
 Five summers old and orphaned by the sea —
 
 A SONG OF THE SEA. 47 
 
 The self-same sea that in her conscious pride 
 Now barely stirs her rim upon the strand, 
 W.ooing the timid air to kiss her cheek 
 And soft voluptuous bosom slowly heaved ; 
 The wicked sea that wears a harlot smile 
 To draw strong men to love her changeful face, 
 And trust themselves to her caressing arms, 
 - Whom, having lured, will hold in amorous play, 
 •^ Or, moved to bitter mood, will strike them dead. 
 
 So when a triple score of hardy men, 
 
 The fullest muster of that little hive, 
 
 Had launched their slender boats upon her breast 
 
 Two autumn moons before, in golden hope, 
 
 Hearing a lofty promise in her voice, 
 
 And seeking wide a fortune in her depths, 
 
 She ris'n, Medusa-like, in angry head, 
 
 And gathered high with squall, had loosed her rage 
 
 Upon them. Quick the love-smile of her face 
 
 Perished in ashen-gray, and passion froth 
 
 Flew from her quiv'ring lips upon the boats ; 
 
 Part, heedless of her wrath, were stricken down 
 
 And lost at onset ; others, mindfuller 
 
 Of warning frown from the foregathered heav'ns,
 
 48 A SONG OF THE SEA. 
 
 Sought the dim shore in tumult ; some of these, 
 Caught in the treacherous trough, escaped again 
 Mangled, with broken wings, so that they lay 
 Within the fury helpless ; many sank, 
 Leaving their wreck in litter, plank and spar 
 Grafted with human life ; the while a few, 
 Tricking the murd'rous wash of giant waves, 
 Crept to the lesser dangers of the coast 
 Within the headland's strong-protecting arm, 
 But hovered brokenly in sight of home 
 Distrustful of the surf. 
 
 There on the shore 
 Dishevelled women tossed their suppliant arms 
 Toward the blurred heav'ns, and raised a misery-shriek 
 That died amid the thunders on the reef, 
 Or having climbed the tempest-smitten cliff, 
 Niched with precarious staircase to the top, 
 Watched for the fate of husband, father, son, 
 And standing mute in hope and horror saw, 
 Betwixt the flying drifts of maddened foam, 1 
 The stricken boats, reeling, and driv'n, and maimed. 
 
 Night on the sleepless widowed village came 
 Blustering, with never a boat returned ;
 
 A SONG OF THE SEA. 49 
 
 The beacon fires leapt with a ruddy flare 
 That flickered down the wind, and all night long 
 The murmur of a ceaseless prayer arose 
 From breaking hearts into the vault of heav'n. 
 
 Yet still the merciless revengeful sea 
 Crashed with a hollow roar, and beat and beat 
 In cruel hate upon the weary men, 
 -.-- Off plucking from the decks the nerveless life, 
 , "UfftTl the morn, when sated of her prey, 
 She lapsed to stillness, and anon to sleep, 
 And let the worn-out residue go home. 
 
 Who shall unfold the anguish of that hour, 
 When, in the cold of dawn and breathless calm, 
 The awful roll-call of that warless band 
 Echoed through empty hearts, and cried in vain 
 To silent walls ? or shape the tongue to speak 
 Of ling'ring hopes quenched in the loving breast, 
 As, one by one, the smiling, bitter sea 
 Yielded her peaceful dead ? 
 
 * * # * * 
 
 Thus was the blue-eyed darling of my song 
 Bereft of father — he a widower — 
 
 E
 
 5 o A SONG OF THE SEA. 
 
 And with him two, her brothers, so that she 
 Fell on a blighted life in early days ; 
 But in the sore which struck to ev'ry breast — 
 For none had lived that time without a wound 
 Of sorrow in them, — all the fisher-wives, 
 Conclaved in tears, and easing of their grief 
 In noble acts, had sworn upon the wreck 
 Of their dead loves, to love this little one. 
 
 And so she found a home in ev'ry heart ; 
 
 And as time grew, she, like a little sun 
 
 Shining for ever, filled the place with light, 
 
 And leading life of summer butterflies 
 
 Bowered in a hundred blooms, rested with none, 
 
 But lived in varied home with sweet content 
 
 A few wild careless years, until she found 
 
 A tranquil haven with a lonely wife, 
 
 Who, yearning for the comfort of a child 
 
 About her house, for none was born to her, 
 
 And her good man being ever on the seas 
 
 As sailor, took the child as God's own gift, 
 
 And found God's blessing in their mutual love ; 
 
 And then, as if to draw the bonds more close 
 
 Which bound them, 'ere that year was past and gone
 
 5i 
 
 A SONG OF THE SEA. 
 
 In which she took the child, her good man died ; 
 And these two clung together, and so lived. 
 
 Thus summer after summer winged away, 
 But kissed the maid so warmly ere they went, 
 She well-nigh bloomed to woman ere her years, 
 And grew so fair and straight, withal so sweet, 
 That- half the village youths were drawn to her 
 Like bees around a honey-laden flower, 
 t Hung'ring to make her wife ; but she enfringed 
 With sweetest leaves of maiden modesty, 
 Saw not the hands stretched forth to gather her. 
 
 Foremost of all her kinsman, Abel Lane, 
 Cherished strong hope to win her. Cousin he, 
 Though hard upon the pale of cousinship, 
 A sturdy captain of a crew of seven, 
 Imbrowned with all the seasons of the year, 
 Owner of seine and trawl and one small house 
 That, myrtle-clad, lay lichened in the cliff, 
 And being gardened cunningly in flowers, 
 Warmed its pale face with blossom. 
 
 He had been 
 Ever her champion in the mimic wars
 
 t A SONG OF THE SEA. 
 
 Of childhood, and, in course of later years, 
 Swift caterer to the maiden's fickle wants. 
 
 From weird sea-caves and silent sunless pools, 
 From out the vast dim wilderness of sea, 
 He brought his novel treasures to her feet ; 
 The wild weed of the ocean starred and gemm'd, 
 Barometers of nature purple flowered, 
 The tentacled anemone, and shells 
 That whispered answer to the maid's request, 
 Or, in the polished mirror of their walls, 
 Revealed a rainbow promise to her eyes. 
 
 He too it was, who, when a sallow moon, 
 Long smirched with wintry scud and prophet-haze 
 Of coming gales, had lifted all the sea, 
 And whelmed the coast in flood, had found the child 
 Adrifting to her death, and caught her up 
 ' Within the cradle of his sinewy arms, 
 And giv'n her back to life. 
 
 So the keen eyes 
 Of those who bruited all the common news, 
 Seeing a fitness in their preconceit, 
 Gave these in marriage with a sly accord ;
 
 A SONG OF THE SEA. 53 
 
 But Abel, though a spendthrift in the love 
 Which lives in selfless acts of modest birth, 
 Proved niggardly of speech, fearing to trust 
 His falt'ring tongue within the passion-gales 
 Which, move a lover's thoughts ; yet grew his love 
 The more and more for growing silently, 
 As thrives that sapling best which matches not 
 Its^strength against the whirlwind of the storm. 
 
 - 
 
 And Mary walked as yet those quiet paths 
 Which lead no otherwhere but unto heav'n. 
 
 II. 
 Scarce two short leagues across the gleaming gorse 
 Which blossomed on the bosom of the down, 
 And overflow'd, like waves of beaten flame, 
 The frowning brows of cliff, a busy town 
 Toiled in eternal smoke. 
 
 There once a year, 
 Late in the boisterous reign of windy March, 
 A market fair of high repute was held, 
 When sale and barter gorged the common street, 
 And holiday ran riot in the air.
 
 54 A SONG OF THE SEA. 
 
 Thither the simple fisher-folk, long drawn 
 By custom and the love of glitt'ring wares, 
 Journey'd with merry haste to swell the crowd ; 
 The day, a day of days in their still lives, 
 And golden-lettered in their calendar. 
 
 A dreary month of tempest, loud of lung, 
 
 Died giving birth to Spring, and once again 
 
 Dawn'd the long-looked-for day, which being crown'd 
 
 With loving smile of sun, the weary land, 
 
 Sick of the stately vassalage and pomp 
 
 Imposed by cruel Winter, burst her bonds, 
 
 And shook the royal ermine of the snows 
 
 Down from her shining shoulders, daintily 
 
 Garbing herself afresh in virgin green, 
 
 New garlanded with blossom ; throstles piped 
 
 Their glorious songs of Autumn's golden fruit ; 
 
 The saucy robin, seeking emerald fields, 
 
 Behind him left the charitable crumb ; 
 
 The straw-fed oxen from their winter stalls 
 
 Drank the sweet fragrance of the sun-warmed grass ; 
 
 And all the gates of laughter gaped for joy. 
 
 Abel and Mary, making common cause
 
 A SONG OF THE SEA. 55 
 
 To seize the rare delights of holiday, 
 Threaded their way together to the town 
 Where hummed the noise and nonsense of the fair. 
 But as the broad day darken'd to its close, 
 The swollen crowd, more boisterous become, 
 And ruder under flash of garish lights, 
 And noisy bray of roughly smitten gongs, 
 - Swepf swiftly in divided ways opposed, 
 '-"Hoarse with unleaven'd laughter ; thus it seemed, 
 fc Or might have seem'd to any who had climbed 
 A neighboring housetop, giddy from the height, 
 Likest a brawling stream, which, lately stemmed 
 By rude upheaval of its rocky bed, 
 Rushes in wild antagonism of ways 
 Seeking its lower levels. 
 
 So when these — 
 Holding their course together with much care, 
 As whalers track their way through grinding floe 
 And seize the inch and hold it as for life, 
 Abel the prow which met the fiercer brunt — 
 Came on a vortex in the thronging crowds, 
 The two were torn asunder by the swirl. 
 Then, like to him, who, on a river's brink. 
 Restrained by alien yet kindly hands
 
 56 A SONG OF THE SEA. 
 
 Sees all he loves slip past him, rudderless, 
 Upon a breadth of darkly running tide 
 To unknown dangers, powerless himself, 
 Through the wild sea of faces Abel saw 
 The sweet blue eyes of Mary dim with fear, 
 Then lost, then found her swiftly carried on, 
 Knowing her by the riband at her throat, 
 And lost again, but finding her no more, 
 Grew dazed as in a dream, until the surge 
 And press of people elbow'd him to sense, 
 And raised a giant wrath within him. 
 
 She, 
 Like some pale rose-leaf which an autumn flood 
 Hurries upon its breast, until by chance 
 Some pilfring eddy claims it for its own 
 And strands it in some corner hush'd in peace, 
 Found herself borne alone beyond the crowd ; 
 But moving thence to find a friendly face, 
 And seeking succour from an honest arm, 
 Fell on a band of roysterers flushed with drink; 
 Who, seeing all the fairness of her form, 
 And brave in knowledge of her loneliness, 
 Hailed her with ribald jest, and hemm'd her in ; 
 When one more bold than all his drunken peers,
 
 A SONG OF THE SEA. 57 
 
 Though never a whit more tainted in his thoughts, 
 Cast amorous arms about her ; she, engulfed 
 In sudden horror, as when nightmare sleep 
 Shudders the senses but enchains the tongue, 
 Which strikes the palate like a muffled bell, 
 Felt all her speech die in her ; whilst from those 
 Who made themselves a tottering wall of vice 
 ^ About her, came a thick and vinous laugh, 
 Worse to her ears than midnight cry of fire. 
 But as the torment leapt into her brain, 
 And deadly fear of meeting foul salute 
 Loosen'd a cry for Abel from her lips, 
 With heavy crash the tott'ring wall was breach'd, 
 And one who muttered " Scoundrels ! " in his teeth 
 Spared her the deeper insult, as his arm, 
 Tutored to wield an academic fist, 
 Severed the leer upon her tyrant's face 
 And spilt the craven blood upon his cheek ; 
 Then, pausing not to watch the sudden flight 
 To which the routed drunkards, who had read 
 Signal of danger in the crimson scar, 
 Betook themselves, centred his thoughts on her, 
 And oar'd her through the channels of the crowd 
 To safety and the comfort of an inn.
 
 58 A SONG OF THE SEA. 
 
 There as it chanced a kindly hostess ruled, 
 
 In realm of dish and goblet, paramount ; 
 
 Who, bargaining for first fruits of the sea, 
 
 Had many a time helped Abel's growing purse, 
 
 And knew the face of Mary from report ; 
 
 For all the simple folk with whom she dwelt, 
 
 Unsifted with the silent reverence 
 
 Which clothed the love of Abel, patriot-like, 
 
 Boasted her beauty with a lavish tongue 
 
 As some high-prized possession solely theirs, 
 
 But even then had failed to picture all 
 
 Her ever-varying subtleties of grace, 
 
 As limners paint the features which they love, 
 
 Yet lack the power to give the one small touch 
 
 That makes perfection perfect. 
 
 Busily 
 The smiling hostess hovered on the tale ; 
 Then all her woman's anger being roused, 
 Descanted on the lax moralities 
 And lawless freedom of the modern youth, 
 And ended eulogistic of the man 
 Who dared relight the lamp of chivalry 
 In those material days. 
 
 He moving then,
 
 A SONG OF THE SEA. 59 
 
 As turns the modest man whose work is done 
 From those who laud the labour of his hands, 
 Broke- slowly from the tribute of her praise 
 -Thus volubly expressed, well pleased to hear 
 But driv'n by over-delicate pride to go. 
 
 Mary at last found respite from her fears 
 
 \V:thin the matron's arms, her timid eyes, 
 
 {' psteahng from an ocean of caress, 
 
 %niled through their heav'n of blue, whilst on her cheek 
 
 Alternate blush and pallor came and fled, 
 
 A gentle war of roses lightly waged. 
 
 Then on a sudden, as it seemed to her, 
 
 Or ere she found a tongue to thank him with, 
 
 The wide doors clang'd behind him, and the news 
 
 Of Abel found by those despatched to seek, 
 
 And Abel following ere the news was cold, 
 
 Came to her dreaming. 
 
 Dreaming too she found 
 The town's wild uproar dying at her back, 
 A soft wind breathing from the rippling sea, 
 And night made mellow by a silver moon 
 And silent host of stars ; whilst evermore 
 The vision of that face so swiftly gone
 
 6o A SONG OF THE SEA. 
 
 Rose up before her. Passionless she heard 
 The voice of Abel breaking on her dream, 
 Loosing his long-pent love in falt'ring speech ; 
 Heeded but little when his fev'rish palms, 
 Rough-hardened with the chafe of rope and oar, 
 Possessed her listless fingers, and replied 
 As one who speaks in dreams, yet for the worth 
 And goodness of the man denied him not ; 
 So when she woke upon the morrow morn 
 She knew herself as Abel's promised wife. 
 
 Now Abel, being comforted, as one 
 
 Who after travail in a lonely sea 
 
 Hears the glad cry of " land," and from the deck 
 
 Sees the dim haven opening its arms, 
 
 And pictures all the near delights of home, 
 
 Grew reckless in his joy, and ere the sun 
 
 First smote the mists of morning, held his way 
 
 Back to the busy town, and seeking found 
 
 Him who had saved his promised from affront, 
 
 And tendered him rough thanks, and prayed his name, 
 
 Who answered laughingly, " Tis Julian Leigh ! 
 
 But you see ocean where no water is. 
 
 My little deed of rescue is so small
 
 ,* 
 
 A SONG OF THE SEA. 61 
 
 It courts no obligation, nor indeed, 
 Saving that she I rescued seems so sweet, 
 As sweet as she is beautiful, remark." 
 Then answ'ring other questions hotly pressed, 
 " I hail -of late from college, having spent 
 Some thriftless terms of willow and of oar, 
 And caught perchance a spark or two maybe 
 _ Fram those fierce fires of knowledge which are fed 
 .-*Bv^>rofessorial brains. For me the face 
 Of Nature holds a stronger charm and sway 
 Than all the handmaids of philosophy. 
 I love to glean the harvest of her moods 
 As grown in rage and pleasure, storm and shine, 
 And mean to catch the phases of the sea, 
 And dash them on my canvas if I can ; 
 My love of art and not my need compels. 
 Know you a house upon this spiteful coast 
 Where I may light on lodging for my work ? 
 Be free to come and go as suits the hour 
 Of wayward fancy ? My ideal home 
 A cot hitched deftly in a seaward cliff, 
 Where all day long the eye may safely see 
 The lengthy billow roll upon the sand, 
 Or strike and break in anger on the rock ;
 
 62 A SONG OF THE SEA. 
 
 Where close in reach the sea-bird builds her home, 
 And all about the saxifrage grows wild." 
 
 Here Abel having his slow pulses moved 
 To sudden inspiration, shouted " Mine ! " 
 " Mine and none other is the one you seek, 
 For you not having seen have pictured it ! " 
 Then waxing importune said bluntly, " Come ! " 
 And being nothing loth the other went. 
 
 III. 
 
 Now many days of toil had Julian Leigh, 
 
 And many a battle with his mimic wave, 
 
 Ere genius triumphed. April's smile and frown, 
 
 And May's seductive mornings fled away ; 
 
 And sleepy Summer's great swan-breasted clouds 
 
 Swam in their lake of blue. Rich-dower'd with shade 
 
 The lavish chestnuts of the inland vales, 
 
 With wide-spread fingers, prodigal of wealth, 
 
 Gave of their bounty to the panting herds ; 
 
 About the sunburnt shore the weary boats 
 
 Slept on the broiling sands midst coils of rope, 
 
 Breadths of brown sail and wilderness of nets.
 
 A SONG OF THE SEA. 63 
 
 Only at eve the noise of labour stirred, 
 And lovers grew less indolent in love. 
 
 In these days Julian, surfeited with art, 
 Forsook his brush and join'd the general drowze, 
 And through the throbbing hours unbraced his limbs 
 In some cool cave, or prone upon the beach, 
 
 Through the hot shingle thrust a listless hand, 
 
 -• 
 
 To cavern it in coolness found beneath, 
 _»» m 
 
 -Or sought with languid eye the curious stone, 
 And jerked the rounder pebble to the wave. 
 
 But Abel never slackened of his toil ■ 
 
 Early and late, and through the broad mid-day. 
 
 His busy fingers wove the countless mesh 
 
 Or patched the wear and leakage of his boat, 
 
 For all his heart was set on this one thing : 
 
 To reap a goodly harvest of the seas, 
 
 And fill his house against his wedding morn. 
 
 Then on a day came swift and sudden cry 
 Of opal-gleaming shoals, and straightway life 
 Leapt to its fullest ; on all sides was heard 
 The noise of grating keels, hoarse shouts of men, 
 And shriller cries of women on the beach.
 
 64 A SONG OF THE SEA. 
 
 Down in a tumult slipt the waken'd fleet, 
 As one may see a bevy of grey fowl, 
 All idly sleeping on a sedgy marge, 
 Or pluming the stray feather in the sun, 
 When startled, rush in panic to the lake, 
 And shake the broad wing to the summer air ; 
 So flew the boats, and flapped their dusky wings 
 To gain the offing, where the curling breeze 
 Fast whitened all the bosom of the sea. 
 
 Close clustered at the shore the women stood, 
 Large voiced at first in wishing plenteous luck, 
 x\nd waving high the kerchief toward the cloud ; 
 But when the boats were swallow'd by the haze 
 And glitter of the sun, a silence fell, 
 And here and there a softly gathered tear 
 Hung prism'd on the lash, grown there perchance 
 From constant gazing on the moving wave, 
 Perchance from some mute trouble at the heart 
 Lest those who sailed that day should ne'er return. 
 
 And Mary stood a little space apart 
 
 From all those others, holding in her palms 
 
 The latest gift of Abel. Julian too,
 
 A SONG OF THE SEA. 65 
 
 Through the upcurling smoke-drift of his pipe, 
 
 Eye'd the departing boats, as, sail by sail, 
 
 They winged themselves from view ; then ran his thoughts 
 
 On Mary, and on Abel, and that day 
 
 When Abel, rich with spoliage of the deep, 
 
 Should claim the high fruition of his love. 
 
 Jhus thinking, turned to look upon the girl, 
 A hoje jyes ranged seaward, not as her who mourns 
 With dewy cheeks her lover, but as one 
 Who, blind of eye, yet gazes from the soul 
 Beyond the cloud which veils the unborn years ; 
 A wind which should have blown from heav'n to heav'n, 
 Missing maybe some blueness in the vault, 
 And seeing the sweet colour of her eyes, 
 Stoop'd down and kissed her in celestial love, 
 And the bold sun, whose broad admiring gaze 
 Scorned all concealment, threw his golden arms 
 Around her in a glitter of embrace. 
 And Julian's fairest art-dreams found eclipse 
 In presence of this maid, whom wind and sun 
 . n rivalry thus lovingly caressed. 
 Then rose remembrance of a promise giv'n, 
 But long forgot, to Abel, "That the while
 
 66 A SONG OF THE SEA. 
 
 The latter laboured in his ocean-field, 
 
 He, Julian, should find an idle hour 
 
 Wherein to paint his Mary." So whilst yet 
 
 The pulse of mem'ry throbbed within his brain 
 
 And good resolve upbore the fickle mind, 
 
 He told the promise to her and his wish 
 
 For swift fulfilment, adding as he spoke, 
 
 " Yet must all hinge on you, for if I fail 
 
 To win your sweet permission for my task, 
 
 My promise goes for nought." Whereat she smiled, 
 
 And, almost ere he asked it, gave consent. 
 
 At length the village found its level ways 
 Though women held the rule, for all the men 
 Save those whom age or ill had stricken down 
 Had journey'd to the deeps, save also one, 
 A thievish drone bred in a hive of bees, 
 Who sucked the honey of his co-mates' toil 
 And lived a life of plenty seldom earn'd ; 
 Yet for all that no stingless drone was he 
 But could upon occasion loose a tongue 
 Of indiscriminate venom, and indeed 
 Many there were who held within their veins 
 The smart of poisoned scandal shed by him j
 
 '. 
 
 A SONG OF THE SEA. 67 
 
 But Mary as yet escaped it, for the man, 
 Gath'ring what lived of good about his heart, 
 Had cast it down before her, calling it love. 
 
 Goldenly •flew the hours with Julian, 
 Those swift-wing'd summer hours which will not stay 
 Their flight among our groves, about our shores, 
 * • But hjiste to other lands to linger there, 
 1 Tho&e^ours which we should grasp with misers' greed 
 But blindly waste as spendthrifts from our youth. 
 He sitting at his easel day by day, 
 With Mary's beauty ever in his eyes, 
 Begrudged the nights that closed upon his task. 
 At first the thought of Abel spurr'd his brush 
 To slavish haste, until his art forbade 
 A subject lightly treated ; next there came 
 High dread of failure, fear lest hand should lack 
 The pow'r to work the purpose of his mind ; 
 And last, resolve to conquer for her sake. 
 Thus then his friendship and his love of art, 
 As week by week the picture slowly grew, 
 Became the genesis of love for her. 
 Not suddenly it flamed, but hour by hour 
 It wore him down in battle with himself.
 
 68 A SONG OF THE SEA. 
 
 Manhood and duty, friendship, honour, truth, 
 Legions in phalanx, nobly fought for him, 
 Yet failed against the mightier arms of love. 
 
 Thus Julian fell, as many else have fall'n, 
 But not so low as him who having lost 
 A single point of honour in life's game 
 Throws all the rest away ; his passion ran 
 Pure as the limpid waters of a stream 
 Unfouled by shard of cities, or the dross 
 Of inconsiderate commerce ; like them too, 
 Ran ever helpless to an unknown end. 
 And Mary's love, ill-grafted on the stock 
 Of Abel's, slipt the easier from its hold ; 
 And thus it came to pass that in her thoughts 
 Abel grew less and less, and Julian more. 
 
 Sweet morning after morning sat those two 
 Apart from all, beneath a roof of leaves, 
 The pleasant summer palace of the birds, 
 Whilst Julian held a brush for Love to paint. 
 
 At length it chanced, that when the eastern heav'ns 
 Had loosed another morning on the earth, 
 Sweeter than its dead brothers, once again
 
 A SONG OF THE SEA. 69 
 
 They sat in leafy splendour of their tree, 
 And Julian felt the magic of the hour 
 Cheat all his finer senses, till his brush 
 Faltered and fell, the while he, dreaming, saw, 
 Wild envy at his heart, the sun's warm lips 
 Kiss and re-kiss the rose-red of her cheek, 
 Or watched some breath of wanton frivolous breeze 
 1 -" Sweep riotously her golden gleaming hair 
 Tn dazzling drifts about her, bearing down 
 Some subtle flood of odour on its breast, 
 Some sweet intoxicant that fired his brain 
 And flutter'd heart and pulse ; then met the eyes 
 Of both in one wild momentary gaze 
 Of tremulous confusion and affright, 
 That made all else eclipse, and swiftly taught 
 Full knowledge that a great and wond'rous love 
 Had bound them, that all-perfect fairy pow'r, 
 Which drowns the world, and builds itself a heav'n. 
 
 Not upon that day breathed he word of love, 
 But afterward in an unquiet hour 
 His passion spoke : not his the feeble tale 
 Which limps infirmly on that old high road 
 Of lawful love, and blunders to its goal ;
 
 70 A SONG OF THE SEA. 
 
 Nor his the oily lie which cheats its way 
 Past social toll-gates ; nor those wilder words 
 Which hurl themselves in scorn against the bars ; 
 But all the passion in him made his speech 
 A pow'r to shake and break that other love, 
 If love it were, which Abel drew from her, 
 And place a mightier despot on its throne. 
 From that mad moment when her lips confessed 
 The love that laid her heart in Julian's grasp, 
 To cherish or to crush as he should will, 
 The yester life died in her, and there leapt 
 A newer, wilder woman from its grave. 
 
 But whilst their sweet delirium circled them 
 
 With love's exceeding blindness, other eyes 
 
 Haunted their tend'rest moments, other ears, 
 
 Keen-pricked with rage, gathered their wilder talk 
 
 And stored it in the garners of a heart 
 
 Dark and splenetic, food for starved revenge : 
 
 Oft velvet-footed on their ways, there crept 
 
 The thievish drone, seeking a time to sting, 
 
 But wiser in hate than love, silently 
 
 Biding in patient wrath a riper hour. 
 
 Less crafty was his love, whose smould'ring fires
 
 '• 
 
 A SONG OF THE SEA. 71 
 
 In furnace of unwisdom, leapt to flame 
 Whilst Abel sailed the seas, and failing thus 
 to breach the wall of her decisive " No," 
 Expired in bitt'rest ashes, and the man 
 Thenceforth for evermore, in sullen hate, 
 Retained but sparks of malice in his eyes. 
 
 ^ Niae weeks the fishers fished, nor fished in vain, 
 ---BaeAbel held a luck that knew no change ; 
 His nets were never handled but there came 
 Some monstrous and unprecedented haul, 
 Which snow'd his deck with silver, flake on flake ; 
 He never furled his sails within the port 
 Which claimed the produce of that teeming coast, 
 Full-laden to his bulwark, but he found 
 A greedy market for his shining ware ; 
 And so he prospered roundly. 
 
 Then it fell, 
 That on one autumn ev'ning, Abel came 
 Alone and unexpected from the sea ; 
 For, whether by design or rosy chance, 
 When the sad twilight shrouded the dead day, 
 His boat lay idling on a sluggish wave, 
 That rolled within a mile of his own home.
 
 72 A SONG OF THE SEA. 
 
 He leaning on his tiller faintly saw 
 
 A star, which was no star, but elfin light, 
 
 That glimmered on a dusky night of cliff 
 
 And marked his tiny cot. The breeze that swept 
 
 Betwixt his myrtles and his garden flowers 
 
 Blew softly round his head, and like new wine, 
 
 Which breathes the sun-born virtue of the grape, 
 
 Warmed all the lover's blood within him. " What ! " 
 
 Said he, " befalls to hinder me this night ? 
 
 Surely I well may steal this idle hour 
 
 To look on her I love, and comfort her ! 
 
 Tell her of my good fortune, which is hers ! " 
 
 So, yielding up the tiller to his mates, 
 
 He loosed the dancing dingy from the stern, 
 
 And, seated in her, soon his vigorous blade 
 
 Smote pallid lights from phosphorescent waves, 
 
 Till, tired of arm, he leapt upon the land, 
 
 Strode o'er the beach, and climbed the upward path, 
 
 The ragged stairway of the headlong cliff. 
 
 Now Abel hoped, in cover of the dark, 
 To keep his coming hidden, for he thought, 
 " If once the women find me, I am lost 
 In the shrill clamour of their cry for news ;
 
 '- 
 
 A SONG OF THE SEA. 7: 
 
 Let me but gain the house, and Julian Leigh 
 Shall seek my Mary for me, and we two 
 Shall meet alone, and I will tell her all, 
 And her sweet lips shall echo the good news 
 Of safety and of luck when I am gone." 
 
 With stealthy swiftness, by the lesser ways 
 ^.Qf silence, like a breaker of the laws, 
 "He^fent, his heart upleaping to his throat, 
 If some stray shaft of hospitable light, 
 Flashed from the sudden windows, or the sound 
 Of laughter or of song came up to him, 
 Or from his heavy heel some crumbling stone 
 Fell shattered into ruin down the steep. 
 At length he reached his little garden wall, 
 And breathed his laden myrtles through his blood ; 
 Then, with the light of his own lowly home 
 Gilding his russet beard and tawny cheek, 
 Trod o'er the quaint mosaic of the path, 
 Inlaid with curious pebble to the door, 
 And ent'ring, sought for Julian. None was there, 
 Nor save for his own footfall, any sound ; 
 But in that room which Julian made his own, 
 Rough-littered with the chaos of his art,
 
 74 A SONG OF THE SEA. 
 
 A sloping easel nursed his latest work, 
 Wet from the brush, and gleaming in the ray 
 Of one small lamp, set with a jealous care 
 To woo the furtive colours to the eye, 
 And make a dazzling shrine to worship at. 
 
 When the brief blindness died from Abel's eyes 
 Which sudden light had darken'd, he beheld 
 The promise of his friend in all fulfilled. 
 Beside a breadth of sea his Mary stood, 
 Scanning a troubled distance rolled in gloom, 
 Whilst Summer winged about her, bee and bird ; 
 The kirtle and the kerchief that she wore 
 The day he sailed, were pictured nutt'ring there, 
 And on her lips a phantom " farewell " hung. 
 Thereat the pleasant pulses of his love 
 Beat with a keener joy; he breathing then 
 A sailor's blessing on his painter-friend, 
 A lover's prayer for her. slipt out again 
 Into the deeper night. " I go," he thought, 
 " To look on her whose eyes thus look for me ! " 
 
 Now hardly had he stept without his gate, 
 Resolved to brave the chatter of a world
 
 A SONG OF THE SEA. 75 
 
 Rather than miss his Mary, than he came 
 Full tilt upon the drone. Him he held fast 
 With question where his darling might be found, 
 But met scant comfort in the serpent eyes, 
 Which gleamed a knowledge that the tongue denied ; 
 Yet in denial, whetted the desire 
 Of him- who heard and knew it for a lie, 
 *JsT\ie which stood self-branded as a lie, 
 y.lTn'meant to be mistaken for the truth ; 
 Nor was the knowledge yielded but piecemeal, 
 As some small natures, crippled from their birth, 
 Will feed a ravenous brute with torturing crumbs : 
 " He knew not ! Yes, he knew, or thought he knew 
 But was it wise to tell ? No thanks to gain ! 
 Where should he seek her but with Julian Leigh ? 
 Why, all the village knew it ! " 
 
 " Fool, you lie ! " 
 Burst Abel. " Yet I know you one of them 
 Who'd see black feathers in an angel's wing. 
 Lead me to where they be ! but if you fail 
 To prove your dark words to the uttermost, 
 I treat you as the liar that you are ! " 
 
 Smarting beneath his words, that other climbed,
 
 76 A SONG OF THE SEA. 
 
 Abel close following, to the topmost cliff, 
 
 Skirted the point where its pale face ran sheer, 
 
 And threading through th' inhospitable gorse 
 
 Which crowned its hoary scalp, came on a rift 
 
 In the dim down, a furlong from the sea. 
 
 There bounteous Time had clothed with lavish hand 
 
 An ugly wound of Nature ; tree and fern 
 
 So branched within the sore, that what had been 
 
 Aforetime piteous, grew a living joy. 
 
 Not for a score of smooth and treeless miles, 
 
 Which stretched their even length along the coast, 
 
 Was found such restful beauty ; thus it made 
 
 Sweet place of tryst for lovers, and became 
 
 A haven, where, in dull November days, 
 
 The travelled woodcock furled his weary wing. 
 
 A few brief steps within it crept the two, 
 Noiseless as ghosts that walk the central night ; 
 Above their heads chattered the smaller birds, 
 Quarrelling for the comforts of the roost 
 Ere sleep came to them, whilst the ev'ning breeze 
 Shook here and there a perished leaf to earth. 
 
 Suddenly came the voices that they sought,
 
 J, ♦ 
 
 A 
 
 A SONG OF THE SEA. 77 
 
 Too low and sweet for friendship's simple song, 
 But set in liquid cadences of love, 
 That wept their subtle music through the leaves, 
 And, in their very sweetness and finesse, 
 Whispered to Abel's ears a coming doom. 
 
 Then he, as one who feels within his breast 
 
 His bitt'rest hour has come, but fain would shun 
 
 The_Ups which come to tell it, half resolved, 
 
 So close the wild fear clung about his brain, 
 
 To leave the truth in doubt, and would have turned, 
 
 But that the drone, half guessing, gript his arm 
 
 And drew him onward, till the lightest note 
 
 Of that love-music pierced his list'ning ear. 
 
 First Julian spake to Mary, "Sweet, I doubt 
 
 If your new love for me forgets the old ! " 
 
 Abel thereat bit a great oath in twain, 
 
 And strode a step toward them, with intent 
 
 To bid her choose betwixt them, when her voice, 
 
 " Dearest, I know no yesterday of love ! " 
 
 Wrecked all the strength within him ; thus the lips 
 
 Whose utterance was a very moon of pow'r 
 
 To sway the tides of passion in his heart, 
 
 So drove them into ebb, that thirsty love,
 
 7 8 A SONG OF THE SEA. 
 
 Robbed of its vital element of hope, 
 Lay panting on the dry rocks of despair. 
 
 Then, as the fancy of that magic flow'r 
 Which closes on itself beneath the touch, 
 His voice died dumbly in him, and was lost. 
 
 And there he would have caught himself away 
 But for the phantom fetters of his mind, 
 So, in his helplessness, like to a man 
 Bound down in griping chains, who hears the noise 
 Of busy workmen, hamm'ring plank on plank 
 To be his morrow's death and funeral, 
 Yet cannot choose but hear, he listened on. 
 Then, at the last, crept writhing from her voice, 
 And stagg'ring blindly on with cumbent head, 
 As him who rides against a rushing wind, 
 Found the dark shore ; and thrusting out his boat, 
 Hid his great heart-throb in the churning waves. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Slowly the year grew grey ; the autumn seas 
 Showed whiter heads beneath a duskier heav'n,
 
 A SONG OF THE SEA. 79 
 
 But still the men toiled on, and still success 
 Grew wider as they toiled ; and Abel toiled, 
 Mtite with a breaking heart. Meanwhile the drone 
 Buzzed his foul tale within the idle ear, 
 And set the village talking in its sleep. 
 
 To it thus sleeping garrulously came change ; 
 ,« An aged pastor of the neighbouring town, 
 , . Wliogp parish held the village in its skirt, 
 
 Was driv'n by dint of his great weight of years 
 To hire himself a curate for his ease ; 
 This last a friend of Julian as it chanced, 
 Both long and strong of limb, a mountaineer, 
 A frequent scaler of the Matterhorn, 
 And resolute guide for others to those heights 
 Where dwell eternal life and endless day. 
 He on the village slumber softly brake, 
 Preaching a cheerful Christ, but held himself 
 A brother man as human as themselves, 
 Not hedged about with priesthood, so that all 
 Woke at his quiet voice, and honoured him 
 And loved him as they loved no other man. 
 
 Now when he caught the murmur of the lips,
 
 So A SONG OF THE SEA. 
 
 Which babbled in bye places their dark tale 
 Of Julian Leigh, he troubled for his friend, 
 And meeting him he winged a friendly shaft : 
 "You drag your wheels too rustily down here; 
 Surely the world, your world, has need of you ? " 
 But Julian, " Well, the world, my world, must wait ; 
 I nurse my brain for greatness by and bye ; " 
 Then laughed the subject dead. 
 
 Another day 
 He hinted further, and provoked a frown 
 From Julian's open brows, and afterward 
 Knew that his ways were shunned ; but as each day 
 Re-echoed all the wrong, he read a crime 
 In silence, and resolved on plainer speech. 
 Then fired with purpose, sought his friend and spoke 
 " Our friendship, Julian, for a half-score years, 
 Like to some rock which jutting on a sea 
 Of passionate waters holds in spite its own, 
 Has borne such petty buffets as the waves 
 Of malice or the ceaseless wash of time, 
 Have struck against its peace ; let therefore now 
 My words not breed a storm to shatter it ; " 
 Then told him how the quiet innocent air 
 Was rocked with sickly rumour. Julian stood
 
 A SONG OF THE SEA. 81 
 
 Gnawing with wolfish tooth a bloodless lip; 
 Then as the other ended, answered thus : 
 ' These idle tongues whose senseless gabble gives 
 Such text for you to preach on, speak some rruth 
 In saying that I love,— that much is truth ;— 
 But when they say I harm the child they lie ; 
 God knows I never harmed her with my love ! " 
 ■£ Then 'said the other, "You do harm her much 
 y^}.^}^ >' ou take her quiet peaceful love 
 ': from him for whom it budded. As a flow'r 
 Pluckt from its silent haven of green woods, 
 She can but wither and die in your hot hand ; 
 She'll bear no transplantation. Think you now, 
 Would your sweet lady mother welcome her 
 As daughter ? or your father hail the day 
 That gives his son a pretty peasant wife ? 
 I trow not ! God forbid that I should seek 
 To lessen love where love can work for good, 
 But yours is like that fruit of bitter sweet 
 Which crumbles into dust betwixt the teeth. 
 You dare not make her wife j and worse, I know 
 You will not, or I read your nature wrong. 
 Shake loose the links which bind you, and go free ! 
 No tongue shall blame you if you leave her now, 
 
 G
 
 82 A SONG OF THE SEA. 
 
 That her affianced lover, coming back, 
 
 May find and keep what should have been his own." 
 
 " His ! his ! " said Julian. " Dare you, then, uphold 
 The wisdom of a law which blindly links 
 These two in bonds together, wife and man, 
 The lily with the oak, an amethyst 
 To grace a helm of iron ? " 
 
 " I freely dare," 
 The other made reply, "for may not she, 
 As some sweet rose which breathes a richer scent 
 From contact with the baser clays of earth, 
 Blossom upon the rough soil of his heart, 
 And prove a nobler flow'r than if she grew 
 In classic gardens tortured to the shape 
 Assigned by narrow fashion of to-day ? 
 Blind gard'ners we who carve with restless shears 
 Our crabbed fancies on the passive plant, 
 And will not let the ways of nature be ! 
 Ah me ! but all these things shall right themselves : 
 A truer day shall come, and earth and heav'n 
 Walk somewhat nearer, when the brains of men 
 Rise from their dead weight of materialism, 
 And loose the thought in purer ether ; then
 
 '- 
 
 A SONG OF THE SEA. 
 
 Shall Nature be adjudged the more divine, 
 And God's ways, and not man's, the infinite," 
 
 This and much more he urged with earnest voice ; 
 And being strong of will, and Julian's mind 
 Slow set to wrong, with honour at its core, 
 Breasted all weak objection, and at last, 
 As a strong swimmer saves the weaker life 
 ..ty *h±ch seeks its own destruction, gained his wish ; 
 And Julian, ere two days were past, had gone 
 In secret lest his purpose should be lost, 
 Tight'ning the cords of honour which alone 
 Could stay love's hunger plucking at his breast. 
 
 Now Mary, when she sought but found not him 
 
 For whom the bloom of her young life had held 
 
 Its perfumed petals rosewise to the sun 
 
 Of his down-pouring love, and the lean days 
 
 Sickened and died that brought no Julian back, 
 
 Xor any breath of news to fan the flame 
 
 Of flick'ring hope, she watched the morrows creep 
 
 A line of ghosts upon her silent life, 
 
 And pondered how to die. 
 
 Then at this time, 
 
 j
 
 84 A SONG OF THE SEA. 
 
 For so God willed, a grey and bitter east 
 
 Sent down its spiteful voice in bellowing storm, 
 
 Which brake on fretful seas, so that the boats, 
 
 Whose season of hard labour neared its close, 
 
 Flew home, and furled their wings for winter sleep. 
 
 Thus Abel, weary of his lot, sailed back ; 
 
 Grown rich beyond the giddiest-flighted shaft 
 
 Of all his dead desires, yet caring not 
 
 For that or aught soever in this life 
 
 But so to shroud his sorrow from all eyes, 
 
 That none should know it lived. No dreams had he 
 
 Of any kindlier days to come, no hope 
 
 To quench the flaming of that ruthless brand 
 
 Which thrust him from the Eden of her heart ; 
 
 Yet none the less he hungered for the love 
 
 Which once had been his own, and when the news 
 
 Of Julian's flight was blown about his ears, 
 
 Wellnigh before his foot had touched the sand, 
 
 New hopes were born to him. "Mayhap," he thought, 
 
 " A little of her love remains to me, 
 
 And he being gone whom truly I thought friend, 
 
 But found far worse than foe : If he be gone ? 
 
 For where shall I find truth when friends can lie ? 
 
 If he be gone and never more return ?
 
 A SONG OF THE SEA. 85 
 
 Why, then the past may come to be a dream, 
 For her and me whose waking may be peace." 
 Tnen through the sturdy clamour of glad hearts 
 Which >warmed about the jetty thrust his way, 
 Hugging his infant hopes, which lustier grew 
 With every homeward step till home was reached ; 
 There learnt a freedom in its silent walls, 
 ^.Seeing not him whom he cared not to see, 
 -And-by degrees the hard and bitter grief 
 "Which stamped such trouble in his earnest eyes 
 Passed from him. 
 
 Thus a tardy week went by 
 In which he saw not Mary ; then one night, 
 Descending from the quiet of the down, 
 A shadow flitted by him in the gloom. 
 " Surely," he thought, " my darling ; " yet he moved 
 No step toward her, neither did he speak, 
 Lest sudden meeting prove to her a pain. 
 A morning after — for his yearning eyes 
 Were ever watchful — saw her silent feet 
 Pass to the wooded haven of the down ; 
 And then although there flock'd about his brain 
 Such vulture-clawing memories of the place, 
 He could not stay his steps from following her,
 
 86 A SONG OF THE SEA. 
 
 But halted at a stone-throw from the wood, 
 And sat him down and waited ; for he thought, 
 " When she returns and comes but one brief step 
 Without the wood, she needs must see me here ; 
 And if the old love be not wholly dead 
 Which once she bore me, she will come my way, 
 But if she go another I shall know 
 That it is dead indeed." 
 
 An hour he stayed, 
 So patiently and still that at his feet 
 Meek tenants of the gorse, from sandy homes, 
 Crept slyly out to nip the juicy blade, 
 Or scamper on the velvet of the down ; 
 And he, his heart being large, and all his ways 
 Humane and gentle as becomes a man, 
 Although his human passion filled his breast, 
 Yet, as a glass whose liquor laves the brim 
 Will still find room for many a Stirling coin 
 Edged deftly in, nor lose a single drop, 
 Found space of heart to love the lesser life 
 Which moved about him, and his wistful eyes, 
 Drawn from the path whereon his hopes were set, 
 Grew fixed in pleasure on the harmless sport. 
 Then— as so oft 'twill happen to us all,
 
 A SONG OF THE SEA. 87 
 
 When that which we have watched and waited for 
 With eyes unwinking comes not into sight, 
 Let but our gaze a moment rest elsewhere 
 And lo ! 'tis with us — whilst his fancy played 
 At building little histories of their lives, 
 One after one they slipped into their caves 
 Scarce noticed, until never a one was left ; 
 And as he wondered at their vanishment, 
 And.^eUlHS mind to puzzle for a cause, 
 Lifted his eyes and found her at his side. 
 
 Swift to his feet he leapt — yet swifter still 
 
 The sweet belief he was not all unloved 
 
 Flashed through him, but as summer through those lands 
 
 Where never any spring has time to be 
 
 Nor autumn with its wealth of golden leaf, 
 
 So nearly do the horns of winter meet, — 
 
 For when he saw how ghost-like was her face, 
 
 How sorrowful and pale, where as it seemed 
 
 But yesterday the hue of roses clung 
 
 Pink on the cloudless lily of her skin, 
 
 The hard dull winter of his grief returned 
 
 Straightway upon him, and his words were pain 
 
 To him in speaking and to her who heard
 
 88 A SONG OF THE SEA. 
 
 And marked the heavy burden of his eyes, 
 Wherein the utter patience of true love 
 Sat blindly sorrowing in mute reproach, 
 More keen to her than speech however barbed. 
 
 Now, whether it were she loved him, or because 
 A gracious pity for his wistful gaze 
 So moved her, as a dog's beseeching eyes 
 Will prompt us oft to throw the brute a bone, 
 Or whether it were for some more fickle cause, 
 She being but a woman, none may know, 
 But howsoe'er it chanced just fact remains, 
 She spoke him tender words of sweet remorse, 
 Then passed to hide the tempest of her tears. 
 
 And after, days were scarce in which those two 
 Met not, perchance within the wakeful street 
 Amid a score of eyes which gazed askance 
 Beneath ambiguous brows, for there were few 
 Looked kindly on the girl, or midst the noise 
 Of labour at the shore where, the swift adze 
 Sung gaily as it smote the trembling plank ; 
 For Abel grew to love his toil once more, 
 And found the use of laughter, joy's sweet child,
 
 A SONG OF THE SEA. 89 
 
 As one who having strayed by alien paths 
 Long wrapt in chilly mantle of the dark 
 Last drinks the magic wine of morning light, 
 Feels it rise up and circle through his blood, 
 Till though he wear the silver badge of age 
 Yet finds the voice of youth and shouts for joy. 
 
 ( And Mary lingered shyly by his side, 
 • 'Where only found she shelter from the winds 
 ': Of wanton gossip ; and at length (some said 
 To save the wreckage of a shattered fame, 
 And others that she lacked a human heart) 
 In truth it came to pass that once again 
 She knew herself as Abel's plighted wife. 
 
 Whilst these things happed, the breath of winter came 
 Hoar from the cruel North ; the feeble sap 
 Shrank back into the bosom of the oak 
 And waited happier times ; the tender earth, 
 Unlike the unconquered sea whose naked breast 
 Defied the death-grasp of its sullen foe, 
 Made slender battle with her enemy,
 
 9 o A SONG OF THE SEA. 
 
 Whose hand of mail encircled her fair throat 
 And stilled her falt'ring life ; then softly fell, 
 Like leaves bestrewed by pitying birds of heav'n, 
 The silent beauty of the shrouding snow. 
 
 But joy was still with Abel, for there rang, 
 Or seemed to ring in fancies of his brain, 
 The peal of marriage bells which in the morn 
 Of the uncome to-morrow should leap out 
 With merry madness from the trembling tow'r, 
 And fill the air with blessing. Thus night closed 
 For him with happy thought and blest content 
 And sleep ; so sleeps there many an honest heart 
 Naught knowing of the terrors of the night 
 Which morning tells with cold and naked lips 
 That blast his life beside a desolate hearth. 
 
 With the first flutter of the dawn he woke, 
 Arrayed himself with care and jauntiness, 
 And stept abroad upon the stainless snow, — 
 For gracious heav'n had, whilst the village slept, 
 Above the trodden fall of many days, 
 Spread as it seemed a virgin carpeting 
 For bridal feet to step on, — and drew in
 
 A SONG OF THE SEA. 91 
 
 Unstinted draughts of that unsullied morn 
 Ere man's adulterate ways had poisoned it ; 
 
 _ Then to and fro upon the crystal beach 
 He paced and watched the village slowly wake. 
 The cottage windows, like a sluggard's eyes 
 So loth to look on light and work again, 
 DrowzHy lifted one by one their lids ; 
 '-^little while and smoke had plumed each thatch, 
 
 «*And the swift babel of returning day 
 Made a blind wonder leap into his heart, 
 Dumb laughter touch his eyes ; for as he gazed, 
 A stir unwonted in that peaceful hive, 
 As of starved bees that light on sudden food, 
 Moved in the open street ; from ev'ry door 
 All they who lived within gushed forth in haste 
 And stood in knots, that clustered here and there 
 With murmur as of lately gotten news, 
 Or swarmed about some teller open-mouthed. 
 And Abel thought, " Mayhap these honest souls 
 Are bent on giving welcome to the bride ; " 
 But as the clamour swelled from knotted throats 
 And shook an echo from the muffled street 
 That vexed the morning air, a ghostly fear 
 Rose in him, that with pale and trembling wings
 
 92 A SONG OF THE SEA. 
 
 Climbed from his breast and whitened all his face. 
 Thus Evil oft outstrips its messenger, 
 And in blind haste to deal a harmful blow 
 But robs the later wound of half its sting. 
 
 Suddenly down the length of narrow street 
 Strode one with resolute step, whom Abel knew, 
 Fore-stricken as he was with nameless dread, 
 To be the hasty herald of an ill. 
 But what of ill should wing its flight to him 
 Who stood beside the gates of Paradise 
 Awaiting entrance, save those gates were closed 
 Perchance for ever on him ? Stumbling thus 
 On such unhappy thought, his brawny strength 
 Failed as a timorous child's who stands aghast 
 At sudden darkness ; but the moment gone 
 And all the inborn power of human life 
 To suffer and to bear returned to him. 
 
 Erect and motionless, disdainful of support, 
 Which the near gunwale of his boat hadgiv'n 
 Had he but cared to grasp it ; pale as one 
 On whom the ghostly shimmer of that light 
 Which ushers death and darkness faintly falls,
 
 A SONG OF THE SEA. 93 
 
 With eyes that saw not, and with ears that heard 
 As 'twere the talking in some other world, 
 He hearkened to the tale which he was told. 
 
 The tale but brief, yet told in such soft guise 
 As strong compassionate loving nature finds 
 To cloak the naked weapon of the truth. 
 '*^J3ut yesternight or in the purblind hours 
 ' 'Of mrjrning, when the latest flake had fall'n, 
 Mary, none knowing why, had left her home 
 And slipt across the white breast of the down, 
 Where curious eyes had found her lightsome step, 
 Printed on God's recording page of snow ; 
 Nor hers alone, for one of lustier type 
 Lay hyphen'd with it, mystery hard to solve. 
 
 To this effect the kindly curate spoke, 
 Adding, for there were voices in the crowd 
 Which followed him that hinted evil things, 
 "Yet let no unwise tongue impute a sin, 
 Nor hasty thought a base conclusion draw ; 
 No hand cast stone whilst any doubt remains, 
 Or haply he who casts it, when the dawn 
 Of knowledge comes, may find himself a shame."
 
 94 A SONG OF THE SEA. 
 
 Then grasping Abel's hard but helpless hand, 
 " Be ours the task to find this wanderer, 
 To seek the truth in this dark night of doubt ; 
 For with the lamps of duty and of love, 
 Divine and human, shedding each a ray- 
 To guide our seeking, we shall hardly fail : 
 Meanwhile, pluck strength of heart, and ne'er forget, 
 How great the light which shines beyond each cloud." 
 No answer save a hand-grip of such sort 
 As might have made a very giant wince, 
 And such true thanks as eyes may best express, 
 Made Abel ; then with never a spoken word — 
 For what had words said more ? — these noble hearts 
 Went forth upon their errand of great love. 
 
 Where then was Mary ? 
 
 On the sacred eve 
 Of woman's holiest day — when even she 
 Who climbs the radiant summit of her joy, 
 And sees from thence the Eden of her hopes 
 Outspread, as some sweet garden of the south, 
 Thornless and peaceful, bathed from end to end 
 In one eternal sunlight, never fails 
 To turn her gaze upon that upward path
 
 A SONG OF THE SEA. 95 
 
 Which nevermore her bridal feet may tread, — 
 Poor hapless Mary, standing in a plain 
 Whence no bright vision of the great " to come " 
 Revealed itself, and all was doubt and gloom, 
 Small wonder that she looked upon the past, 
 In which alone seemed aught of bliss for her, 
 T.o which she clung as one who madly drowns 
 Jrtt blinding waters, beating out her life 
 Xl'ri vairTattempt to reach the fading light. 
 
 Thus bitterly upon that bridal eve 
 
 Ran Mary's thoughts on Julian. As she sat 
 
 Beside the shutter'd casement of her room 
 
 Which gave upon the white and silent street, 
 
 Hearing the far-off trouble of the surf 
 
 And musing on her own which seemed so near, 
 
 She knew a stealthy plucking of the latch 
 
 Which held the oaken door. High-pulsed with fear, 
 
 She rose with trembling step and opened it, 
 
 And found without the drone, grown grey with snow 
 
 And in his hands a letter. 
 
 " Read ! " said he, 
 "Read you this message, and within the hour 
 I come to you for answer. What ill news
 
 96 A SONG OF THE SEA. 
 
 Lies sealed within the letter I know not ; 
 But this I know, and this I'm bidden tell, 
 That Julian Leigh, being sick and like to die, 
 Desires to look upon your face once more." 
 
 Not paler were the newly fallen snows 
 
 Than Mary, hearing this ; like to some flow'r 
 
 Which sways before a rough and brutish wind, 
 
 She reeled beneath his words ; but as he ceased 
 
 She girded on the armour of that love 
 
 Which is itself the one and all in all, 
 
 That love which oft so magically makes 
 
 The heroine of the moment. Swiftly then 
 
 She plucked the missive from his outstretched hand, 
 
 And read with scarce a quiver of the lip : 
 
 " A drunken wainer thund'ring down the road 
 
 Where Julian chanced to be, had driv'n a team, 
 
 Lash-maddened, that had crushed him like a shell : 
 
 Some toilers of the field returning home, 
 
 Had found and borne him to a neighb'ring farm, 
 
 Barely a league from her, where still he lay 
 
 In hourly fear of death ; but yet there liv'd 
 
 Some life within him, and the one desire, 
 
 If so it might be, to behold her face."
 
 A SONG OF THE SEA. 97 
 
 Thus ran the letter, written, as it seemed, 
 
 By one who caught from Julian's flickering breath 
 
 The mangled speech of pain. 
 
 Then ere the wings 
 Of restless Time had beat a score of strokes 
 Toward the gates of morning, she stood cloaked 
 Beside the drone, and panted to be gone. 
 
 -<■• -*-» 
 
 VI. 
 
 The frozen tears of that unhappy night 
 
 Had hardly ceased to fall, when there uprose 
 
 Beneath the moonlit heav'ns a roaring wind 
 
 That swept them up in billows like a sea 
 
 And drowned all landscape, making ev'ry step 
 
 An equal terror. Not an eagle's eye 
 
 Might find familiar traces, all was new 
 
 Or blotted past remembrance, stone nor bush 
 
 Revealed the trodden track, the snow- wave curled 
 
 And twisted into ever-varying shapes 
 
 Of treacherous beauty, whilst the moon's cold stare 
 
 ■Clothed ev'ry path of safety with deceit. 
 
 Save for the warmth of all enduring love, 
 
 H
 
 9 8 A SONG OF THE SEA. 
 
 Or heav'n's strong shielding pity for the sin 
 Which wore the badge of mercy on its breast, 
 The girl had surely perished. Inch by inch 
 She battled with the venom of the gale 
 Unaided, for the ofttimes proffered help 
 Of him who led her was as oft refused, 
 (Salvation by some hands seems worse than death,) 
 And so she struggled onward, the air filled 
 With voices of the storm, angel and fiend 
 In alternating chorus torturing her. 
 
 Nor was her guide less harassed, for there danced 
 The hideous nightmare of forgotten ways 
 Ever before him ; ev'n the loud-tongued sea, 
 Lost in the higher wind-roar, failed to mark 
 The dangers of the cliff, toward which they went 
 With ev'ry onward step, and the white haze 
 Rolled sea and land in one huge winding sheet. 
 
 A lonely gull came tumbling down the wind 
 With warning scream, a gleaming white-wing'd ghost 
 To scare them from their purpose. Had they then 
 Turned back or halted, heav'n's pale messenger 
 Had not been sent in vain ; but stubborn will
 
 A SONG OF THE SEA. 99 
 
 Wars ever blindly, marching swiftly on 
 To that which fools call fate. 
 
 A score of steps 
 And solid earth was changed for baseless air, 
 Strong life for powerless death. Down the sheer cliff, 
 A moment clinging to a sapless tuft 
 That overgrew the edge, his upturn'd face 
 Grfaflect with the instant horror, livid-white 
 beneath the grinning moon, with never a groan, 
 I )umb-stricken by his agony, fell the drone, 
 Down to the bitter vengeance of the rocks. 
 
 A moment later, and the frailer life, 
 Bereft of power to save itself, fell too, 
 But found God's mercy on a narrow ledge, 
 Soft bedded with the snow, two fathoms' space 
 Beneath ; there lay in peace till morning came ; 
 For hardly had she fall'n than storm swept by, 
 And left the wearied night in breathless calm. 
 
 And thus the seekers found her, ere dear life, 
 Though dumb, had ceased to move within her veins ; 
 Saw too that other stretched upon the rocks, 
 On whom sat Death with dark and folded wings.
 
 ioo A SONG OF THE SEA. 
 
 No lightsome venture theirs to pluck this flow'r 
 
 From off the perilous safety of the ledge ; 
 
 Ropes and strong hands were needed and were found ; 
 
 Then he whose mountain craft and cooler brain 
 
 Won him the right he claimed, forgetting not 
 
 The bergschrund and crevasse of summer Alp 
 
 And need of caution, made a safe descent ; 
 
 And so they raised her to broad earth again, 
 
 And bore her to the village. 
 
 Then a month 
 Of weary watching whilst the tides of hope 
 Now ebb'd, now flow'd, but ever nearer bore 
 The one sweet certainty of life restored 
 With gradual dawn of love. 
 
 And then she learnt 
 The devilish lie that trapped her, for grim truth, 
 The liar being dead, had loosed its tongue ; 
 No harm had come to Julian, who wrote 
 Of his approaching marriage to his friend, 
 And pray'd his presence on the happy day. 
 
 Thus Mary daily reach'd to fuller strength, 
 And like the wayward vine whose tender arms 
 Have felt the knife of frost, yet leaps anew
 
 A SONG OF THE SEA. 101 
 
 At Summer's welcome voice, and fondly clings 
 To..that which is the nearest, clung to him 
 Who lost his long unhappiness watching her. 
 And thus the wine of life and love increased 
 For either in the golden cups of Time ; 
 And in that year which drew its earliest breath 
 Ere Mary rose from sickness, Abel spoke, 
 
 <--?\ T br vainly, and so took her for his wife ; 
 
 - \\1iereat the little world they liv'd in sneered, 
 But God Who knows the hearts and minds of men 
 And wills not they should reap for ever tares, 
 Sent down His sweet eternal peace to both. 
 
 THE END. 
 
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 IQC7 
 
 
 
 
 
 A 
 
 
 • — V 
 
 
 
 - 
 
 
 PR 
 
 5)452 
 S72 1