THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 LOS ANGELES 
 
 K/
 
 / / 
 
 
 LYRICS OF THE WHITE CITY.
 
 LYRICS 
 
 OF 
 
 THE WHITE CITY. 
 
 BV 
 
 HERBERT POWELL. 
 
 LONDON : 
 SIMPKIN AND CO., LIMITED, STATIONERS' HALL COURT, E.C. 
 
 WINCHESTER : 
 WARREN AND SON, PRINTERS AND PUBLISHERS, HIGH STREET. 
 
 1896.
 
 
 INSCRIBED 
 
 TO THOSE HER CITIZENS, WHO KNOW THE PRIVILEGE 
 
 OF A BEAUTIFUL INHERITANCE. 
 
 H. P. 
 
 8GG750
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 FACE 
 
 A Dedication Song i 
 
 I.— OF THE CITY:— 
 
 A City of Memories 7 
 
 Sunrise " 
 
 Fairy Noon 14 
 
 The Flowers on her Walls . . . .19 
 To William of Wykeham .... 23 
 
 II.— OF HER MINSTER :— 
 
 The Makers of the Minster . . . .29 
 
 Minster Bells 33 
 
 Evensong 35 
 
 Sunset 4° 
 
 Swithun's Lament 45 
 
 From Priory to Deanery .... 48
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 III.— OF HER NEIGHBOURHOOD:— 
 
 Hill and Dale ....... 55 
 
 To Itchen River 64 
 
 In the Hospital of St. Cross . . . .68 
 A Song of St. Cross 71
 
 LYRICS OF THE WHITE CITY.
 
 A DEDICATION SONG. 
 
 Sun of a summer day, 
 
 Myriad suns of the night, 
 Look on the measures of love, that I lay 
 
 Here in the eye of your light : 
 
 Song that would spurn the dust ; 
 Song of my heart that would soar to the height 
 
 Crowned of an ancient trust.
 
 A DEDICATION SONG. 
 
 City ! thou maid sublime, 
 
 Heart of a people's esteem, 
 Dowered of graces that quicken with time, 
 
 Soul of a craftsman's dream ; 
 
 Liege of unmeasured love ; 
 Bathed at thy feet by the steadfast stream, 
 
 Clasped by the hills above : — 
 
 Hills that are sternly set, 
 
 Fastness and fortress to guard. 
 Staunch in the strength of the years that beget 
 
 Pride in your peerless ward ; 
 
 Silent with song unsung ; 
 Hills ! at her birth that were century scarred. 
 
 Hills ! in her prime yet young : —
 
 A DEDICATION SONG. 
 
 Stream ! that art wholly meet 
 
 Ever her handmaid to be ; 
 Honoured to carry the cup to her feet, 
 
 Blithe to be held in fee ; 
 
 Plying thy gleaming skein, 
 Threading a silver embroidery, 
 
 Wrought in her emerald train : — 
 
 Man ! that art manhood's heir, 
 
 Forged in the chain of the years ; 
 Heir to the fruits of the toil and the prayer 
 
 Wrung from the builder-seers ; 
 
 Man ! that inheritest 
 Stones, that they fashioned in laughter and tears, 
 
 Gift of their manhood's best ; — 
 
 B 2
 
 A DEDICATION SONG. 
 
 Guardians of the day, 
 
 Watchmen, aware of the night, 
 Charged of a jewel of eloquent ray, 
 
 Soul of the city white : 
 
 Fain of her sovereign name ; 
 Fanning the torch of devotion alight 
 
 Unto a purer flame : — 
 
 Take of my heart a song. 
 
 Heart that is fain to be bold, 
 Heart that would arm to the challenge of wrong, 
 
 Song that would praise the gold. 
 
 Song that would spurn the dust, 
 Song that would soar to the hearts that uphold 
 
 Truth in a loyal trust.
 
 L YRICS. 
 
 I.— OF THE CITY.
 
 A CITY OF MEMORIES. 
 
 A CITY OF MEMORIES. 
 
 My window looks upon the street, 
 The city's voices gathered there, 
 
 Stream in for ever, and the beat 
 
 Incessant of incessant feet 
 
 Pants upward through the vibrant air. 
 
 A thousand cries are in the stone, 
 
 But one note rings upon the ears ; 
 Change treads a measure of its own. 
 But through it runs an undertone, 
 The pulse of the continuous years.
 
 A CITY OF MEMORIES. 
 
 And fancy wrapt me in a trance, 
 A day-lit dream of parted lids, 
 And crowned the head of circumstance 
 With halos of a high romance — 
 Fancy that bids not nor forbids : 
 
 Led backwards past the later light 
 To where the legend-moon, hung low 
 
 In skies of fable, freed the night 
 
 Of darkness to a mystic sight 
 Of visions in its amber glow : 
 
 Where meads, rude Time hath over-built, 
 
 Were mantled in the sanctity 
 Of joust for knighthood, and the tilt 
 At shame, the single heart, the lilt 
 Of the high song of Chivalry.
 
 A CITY OF MEMORIES. 9 
 
 And wholly fair and half divine 
 
 The incense that encompassed me ; 
 Till fancy barred the inner shrine, 
 And lightly crossed the purple line, 
 Where legend clears to history. 
 
 The sun that smote the casement-pane, 
 Mirrored the flash of sun-smit helm. 
 
 When men rode out to meet the Dane, 
 
 Or spurred victorious in again 
 With safety for a shaken realm. 
 
 The shout from yonder playing-field 
 
 Swelled to a hoarser triumph-shout, 
 When instant battle rocked and reeled, 
 And the cry rose, "they yield, they yield" — 
 The inch that grew an army's rout.
 
 10 A CITY OF MEMORIES. 
 
 The bells, whose dim confusion rolled 
 And tenfold from their echoes grew, 
 Rang to a home of kings, and tolled 
 The latest journey of the old, 
 
 Or crashed a welcome to the new. 
 
 And dream on dream held pictured sway, 
 
 Until the voice I hold most sweet 
 Sped yesterday upon its way 
 Un mourned, and bade a bright to-day 
 Look through my window from the street.
 
 SUNRISE. II 
 
 SUNRISE. 
 
 Lo ! all the life of all the world 
 
 Is flushed across the east ; 
 From Dawn's high altar, richly pearled, 
 The lark, her tuneful priest, 
 His service owns, 
 While he intones 
 Her matins to earth's greatest and her least.
 
 12 SUNRISE. 
 
 One trembling shaft, Dawn's messenger, 
 
 Lights on the eastern crest. 
 
 And glances quivering to the spur, 
 
 That fronts it from the west; 
 
 And passing smites 
 
 The storied heights 
 
 Of tower and turret to the day's unrest. 
 
 Deft morning throws athwart the dale 
 
 Her shuttle, nothing loth 
 To weave a white and clinging veil, 
 And hide the servile growth, 
 That basely crawls 
 'Neath nobler walls, 
 The barren mildew of a later sloth.
 
 SUNRISE. 13 
 
 Behold the day-king, full astir 
 
 In royal opulence, 
 Kindle the mystic gossamer 
 To an unseen incense, 
 And princely rise 
 Through breathless skies 
 In splendour to his noon-day audience.
 
 14 FAIRY NOON. 
 
 FAIRY NOON. 
 
 Come unto the eastern height ; 
 
 Queenly rides the moon 
 In the zenith of the night : 
 Midnight by a fairy sleight 
 
 Charmed to fairy noon. 
 
 I will take thee by the hand, 
 
 Point thee to the west ; 
 At our feet a fairyland 
 To the waving of my wand 
 Dimly manifest.
 
 FAIRY NOON. 15 
 
 Seize upon yon silver beam, 
 
 Hold its magic floss ; 
 I will spirit thee o'erstream, 
 Where the minster in a dream 
 
 Clasps its sacred Cross. 
 
 Thorough flying buttresses 
 
 Winking planets peep 
 At the graven memories, 
 Under shadowed canopies 
 
 Wakened from their sleep. 
 
 Upwards, whence the owl hath flown, 
 
 Airily we'll climb, 
 Where the fairies' toil hath sown 
 Yellow lichens on the stone 
 
 At the nod of Time.
 
 i6 FAIRY NOON. 
 
 Where the laughing gurgoyle hears 
 Niche and angle worn 
 
 At the bidding of the years 
 
 By the silent pioneers, 
 Till the blush of dawn. 
 
 Follow me to Wykeham's school, 
 
 Force the midnight gate ; 
 Watch the fairies scattering wool. 
 Where the scholar and the fool 
 Daily congregate. 
 
 I will lend thee magic wings 
 
 Up the tower to win, 
 Where a host of chattering things, 
 Yesterday's imaginings. 
 
 Sit apart and grin.
 
 FAIRY NOON. 17 
 
 We will hover, and be lost, 
 
 Where the spangled motes 
 Flicker upward elfin-tost ; 
 Where deep shadows are embossed 
 
 'Neath the gurgoyles' throats. 
 
 Be thou still my wanderer, 
 
 Where, from scholar life. 
 Heard the kingly chronicler 
 From afar a muttered stir 
 
 Of the Danish strife. 
 
 Phantoms of their sunlit selves 
 
 Flash the shadowed halls ; 
 And a nimble band of elves 
 Dances, frolics, spins, and delves 
 
 'Mid the silvered walls :
 
 i8 FAIRY NOON. 
 
 Walls with elfin characters 
 
 Delicately traced ; 
 Buttresses, and carven spurs, 
 By the small artificers 
 Lovingly defaced. 
 
 List ! it is the mavis' tune. 
 
 List ! and come away ; 
 Droops apace the westering moon, 
 Faints the fairy afternoon 
 
 In the world of day.
 
 THE FLOWERS ON HER WALLS. 19 
 
 THE FLOWERS ON HER WALLS. 
 
 Flowers are bright about thy feet, 
 Flowers have climbed thy walls, 
 
 Wanton in their sure retreat ; 
 And, whate'er befalls, 
 
 From their vantage-ground defy 
 
 All the seasons' armoury. 
 
 Tiny tendrils of the spring 
 
 Knit a fairy lace, 
 Busily a-wandering 
 
 O'er a barren face ; 
 
 C 2
 
 20 THE FLOWERS ON HER WALLS. 
 
 Charming January's grey 
 To the emerald garb of May. 
 
 Gilliflowers enriched of May 
 
 Crave a royal boon, 
 Spend a fragrant month, and pay 
 
 Golden debt to June 
 At thy feet, and wither there, 
 Jetsam of the tides of air. 
 
 And it happened on a day 
 
 By the wind uplift 
 Fell a little seed astray 
 
 In a stony rift ; 
 Judged thy minster wall amiss 
 For an age-worn precipice.
 
 THE FLOWERS ON HER WALLS. 
 
 Sprang a red valerian, 
 
 Finding ample store 
 By a potent talisman 
 
 O'er the minster door ; 
 Wore a blush the summer round 
 That it trod on holy ground. 
 
 Summer's treasuries are spent, 
 
 Winter doth emboss 
 Nodding dingle, golden bent, 
 
 On thy walls with moss, 
 By the scythe of April shorn 
 To a trim and velvet lawn. 
 
 Passion have they to confess, 
 But nor voice nor lute ;
 
 22 THE FLOWERS ON HER WALLS. 
 
 Yet they love thee not the less 
 
 That their love is mute : 
 Leaf to flower, and flower to seed, 
 Silent homage still they plead. 
 
 Music is love's honey'd breath, 
 
 Song is ever free ; 
 Ancient glory lingereth 
 
 Round thy stones, and we 
 Breathe the breath of thy repute, 
 Love thee, and may not be mute.
 
 TO WILLIAM OF WYKEHAM. 23 
 
 TO WILLIAM OF WYKEHAM. 
 
 Death is no thirsty sea, whereto life's buoyant 
 stream descending 
 Loses in viewless vastnesses the current of its 
 aim ; 
 Death is no hungry pit, that hath unutterable 
 ending 
 In blackness for the brightness and the quick- 
 ness of life's flame.
 
 24 TO WILLIAM OF WYKEHAM. 
 
 The life, that slides from spring to sea, and swells 
 and gathers motion, 
 
 Breaks on the harbour-bar of death into a 
 thousand ways, 
 A thousand glancing threads, that braid the texture 
 of an ocean, 
 
 Shot with the lights of other lives across its rest, 
 less maze. 
 
 And evermore soft wave-born airs at twilight, land- 
 ward breathing, 
 
 As sighs for things remembered, to the purple 
 foreshore press. 
 
 And break upon the cliff to countless filaments 
 enwreathing 
 The living things of their desire, that bend to 
 the caress.
 
 TO WILLIAM OF WYKEHAM. 25 
 
 Master ! where once thy feet trod prints, thy 
 homing spirit lingers, 
 Breathes in the night-winds' harmonies, fast 
 thronging from above. 
 And with the clinging touch of unforgotten passion 
 fingers 
 The stones that are as lodestones to the spirit of 
 thy love. 
 
 The wine of life brims ever o'er the cruse of thy 
 bestowing ; 
 The seed-time of thy hopes has worn to harvests, 
 that have been 
 Seed-times for later harvestings ; and streams are 
 full and flowing. 
 Pledges of fairer fields through all the breadth of 
 thy demesne.
 
 26 TO WILLIAM OF WYKEHAM. 
 
 The self-same golden light is flung from tower and 
 wall, repeating 
 The glory of the coming and the going of the 
 * sun : 
 And pulses emulous of thine, that beat of old, are 
 beating. 
 And new hopes are as old hopes, for the old and 
 new are one. 
 
 Maker of men, and moulder of the manhood of 
 the nation, 
 Shaping the pliant years of clay true to their 
 noblest bent. 
 Great prelate, master-mason, prince of craftsmen, 
 thy creation 
 Of stone and of the lives of men shall be thy 
 monument.
 
 L YRICS. 
 
 II.— OF HER MINSTER.
 
 THE MAKERS OF THE MINSTER. 29 
 
 THE MAKERS OF THE MINSTER. 
 
 A COFFIN for their bones, 
 And marble for their memory ; 
 But the clear voice of living stones 
 For their eternal eulogy. 
 
 Great heart of greater man ! 
 Albeit a narrower world they trod, 
 They needs must have an ampler span 
 To house their homage to their God.
 
 30 THE MAKERS OF THE MINSTER. 
 
 Nor all their suppliant pride 
 Could frame a canopy too high, 
 Nor walls from aisle to aisle too wide 
 To echo back their litany. 
 
 Not for their own brief hour 
 Of life they added length to length, 
 But gave their stones enduring dower, 
 A thousand conscious years of strength. 
 
 Theirs was a rare control. 
 That knew the measure of its own ; 
 A purpose that inlaid its soul 
 Bonded in courses with the stone. 
 
 From line to line they wrought 
 The imagery of their heart ;
 
 THE MAKERS OF THE MINSTER. 31 
 
 To springing arch and pillar taught 
 The fabric of their nobler part. 
 
 And we, who blindly tread 
 Small foot-prints down a broader age, 
 May marvel with uncovered head 
 How greatness burst its meaner cage. 
 
 How like a trumpet-blare 
 The organ's clarion chant is cast 
 Triumphant, while the captive air 
 Thrills with the passion of the past. 
 
 The listening aisles resound, 
 As echo unto echo saith, 
 That here a nation's spirit found 
 Fit record of a nation's faith.
 
 32 THE MAKERS OF THE MINSTER. 
 
 Still is the fire aflame ; 
 The fuel of their lives unspent ; 
 The spirit of their single aim 
 Breathes through their peerless monument. 
 
 A coffin for their bones, 
 And marble for their memory ; 
 But the clear voice of living stones 
 For their eternal eulogy.
 
 MINSTER BELLS. 33 
 
 MINSTER BELLS. 
 
 Ring, bells, a clamorous peal ; 
 
 The eager world shall reel 
 
 With throbbing waves of life flung on mankind ; 
 
 A storm of triumph ring, 
 
 Tempestuous challenge fling, 
 
 The years that wait have ears, though they be 
 blind ; 
 
 Peal ten exultant notes 
 
 From ten tumultuous throats 
 
 Together down the highways of the wind.
 
 34 MINSTER BELLS. 
 
 But hark ! a muffled chime, 
 
 An echo rung from Time, 
 Whose finished years are built into a wall ; 
 
 A whisper faintly cast 
 
 From barriers of the past, 
 Where tides of outlived passion heave and fall ; 
 
 A sob, a sigh, a tear. 
 
 To greet the unconscious year 
 With tidings of its kin beyond recall. 
 
 Soft, soft, ye other nine ; 
 
 A life's unravelled twine 
 Has sundered been by fate's impatient knife ; 
 
 Death's single song be sung 
 
 By one loud iron tongue, 
 The unison of sorrow following strife ; 
 
 The measure of his dirge 
 
 Falls as a ruthless scourge 
 In blows, that mark the issue of a life.
 
 E VENSONG. 35 
 
 EVENSONG. 
 
 The radiant windows were aflame 
 
 In sunset splendour, spread 
 And shivered in the mullioned frame 
 To rainbow fragments, shed 
 In crimson stain 
 And amber rain 
 On sacred memories of the dead.
 
 36 EVENSONG. 
 
 Divinity, that never dwelt 
 
 In temples made with hands, 
 Writ on the golden mist, and spelt 
 The glory of all lands : 
 A mystic glint, 
 A hallowed print 
 Of a dim presence on the sands. 
 
 Prayer, as a steady taper-fire, 
 Pointed its upward flight ; 
 A wistful breath of rapt desire 
 Charged the full air, to light 
 By urgency 
 Of suppliant knee 
 The sacred presence into sight.
 
 EVENSONG. 2,7 
 
 One magic voice interpreted 
 
 A sore world's mute unrest, 
 Then as a flashing river sped 
 Hope to the bitterest ; 
 And bared the core 
 Of grief, and bore 
 The burden on its healing breast. 
 
 An echo from the full choir's heart 
 
 Answered the silver phrase ; 
 The harmony of part with part 
 Wrought a melodious maze 
 From right and left, 
 The warp and weft, 
 Unto the perfect web of praise.
 
 38 E YEN SONG. 
 
 From bay to bay reverberant rolled, 
 
 Striking rich answers there, 
 An amen echoing sevenfold : 
 And silence born of prayer 
 Hovered among 
 The kneeling throng, 
 And wore a larger reverent air. 
 
 Fair evening dropped a tremulous lid 
 
 Across the eye of day ; 
 The vaulted canopy was hid ; 
 And vision fell astray 
 On tower and tomb, 
 Where a deep bloom 
 Spread by the herald twilight lay.
 
 EVENSONG. 39 
 
 Night from the roof's dim labyrinth 
 
 Her falling tresses shook, 
 Made mystery of shaft and plinth, 
 And softly overtook 
 
 From stage to stage 
 The graven page 
 Chiselled upon Death's marble book.
 
 40 SUNSET. 
 
 SUNSET. 
 
 The western doors were wide, 
 Flung widely to the western sky, 
 
 Whose radiant majesty 
 Beat on the niched and fretted fane, 
 Beat, and was beaten back again. 
 The master-builder, crimson-browed. 
 Gazed ever at the pageantry, 
 
 That blazed abroad and filled 
 The purple lattice of the cloud.
 
 SUNSET. 41 
 
 The whispering limes distilled 
 A fragrant air, and softly vowed 
 To the entreaties of the winds 
 
 An amorous secrecy. 
 
 And one enchanted bird 
 Aloft melodiously rejoiced 
 In song that mounted nigh and nigher 
 The heart of Heaven, the fount of fire : 
 And all the subtle air was voiced 
 And busy with faint harmony, 
 That dropped bewilderingly among 
 The expectant strings of memory, 
 
 And gathered into song. 
 
 Wide are the gates of the western sky. 
 
 Wider and wider flung ; 
 Banners of gold from yon armoury. 
 
 Purple and gold, are hung.
 
 42 
 
 SUNSET. 
 
 Realm beyond realm of a larger state 
 Glow through a crimson rift ; 
 
 Pomp of a princelier potentate, 
 Barred by the level drift. 
 
 Winds ! in your wayward wanderings 
 Searching the roof of the globe, 
 
 Sweeping the fringe of the golden wings, 
 Hem of the purple robe ; 
 
 Unto the gates of the West presume. 
 
 Stoop in a soft anthem ; 
 Win me to earth but one golden plume, 
 
 Thread of the purple hem. 
 
 Clouds ! in your myriad multitude 
 
 Lit by the jewelled crown, 
 Pause in the path of your vagrant mood, 
 
 Passing the glory down ;
 
 SUNSET. 43 
 
 Up in the wake of the winds, aspire, 
 
 Lifting my whispered claim ; 
 Win me a flash of the hidden fire, 
 
 Touch of a purer flame. 
 
 Lark ! of thy gift of a minstrel sense, 
 
 Largess of suppliant song ; 
 Lark ! of thy musical eloquence, 
 
 Enter yon hidden throng ; 
 
 Pour at the feet of the majesty 
 
 All thou hast ever sung ; 
 Win me a glimpse for a clearer eye. 
 
 Song for a richer tongue. 
 
 So ceased the rhythmic spell : 
 Across the west unsparing fell 
 A crescent shadow, that prevailed
 
 44 SUNSET. 
 
 Against her panoply ; 
 Slowly the vesper magic failed 
 In witchery over tower and tree ; 
 Died from the fane its borrowed gold ; 
 The lime-tops hushed their talk, to see 
 The master-builder's figure stoled 
 
 In twilight drapery. 
 
 The restless winds subdued 
 Their frolic fancies, nestling deep 
 In flowery beds, and fell asleep ; 
 And sleeping dreamed, and dreaming wooed 
 A thousand honey-burdened throats 
 Their evening fragrance to disclose. 
 
 The late lark's crystal notes 
 Sank in a cadence with the light ; 
 And silent from the east uprose 
 
 The majesty of night.
 
 SVVITHUN'S LAMENT. 45 
 
 SWITHUN'S LAMENT. 
 
 Three times forty years have sped, 
 Years of tranquil praise ; 
 
 Heaven above me, bend thy head, 
 Weep for forty days. 
 
 Three times forty years of rest 
 
 Under lowly stones 
 They have broken, to attest 
 
 Relics in my bones.
 
 46 SVVITHUN'S LAMENT. 
 
 Swithun, prelate Heaven-bid, 
 Priest of humble worth, 
 
 Covets not a place amid 
 Monarch s of the earth. 
 
 Fainer I they honoured me 
 
 In the tomb I prized, 
 Than exalt me thence, to be 
 
 Sainted, canonized. 
 
 Birds ! to music set my plaint. 
 Winds ! make ceaseless moan ; 
 
 Be attuned to my constraint. 
 Make my sorrow known. 
 
 Clouds ! your founts of tears renew, 
 Sun ! put on thy weeds ;
 
 SWITHUN'S LAMENT. 47 
 
 Flowers ! be pearled in mourning dew ; 
 Swithun 'tis, who pleads. 
 
 Moon ! in vapour veil thy head ; 
 
 Stars forbear to gaze ; 
 Tears of Heaven be gathered, 
 
 Weep for forty days. 
 
 • ■••••■ 
 
 Lo ! the Heaven above me hears, 
 
 Hears me and obeys ; 
 Weeps my lost and tranquil years, 
 
 Weeps for forty days.
 
 48 FROM PRIORY TO DEANERY. 
 
 FROM PRIORY TO DEANERY. 
 
 Prior of the Holy Rood ! 
 
 Give an ear to me ; 
 Who hast unto death pursued 
 Benedictine solitude 
 
 In thy priory : 
 
 Holy Prior ! it was thine 
 
 Ever to intone 
 From St. Swithun's jewelled shrine 
 Mass, and Vespers, and Compline, 
 
 Terce, and Sext, and None.
 
 FJiOM PRIORY TO DEANERY. 49 
 
 Thine it was a blight to cast 
 
 On thy brethren's bones ; 
 Weeks of penance, days of fast, 
 Nights of lamentation passed 
 
 On the sorry stones. 
 
 They of turmoil undistraught, 
 
 Drew devotion's breath ; 
 From a chastened spirit wrought 
 Visions, and from thought to thought 
 
 Neighboured life with death. 
 
 Theirs to wrest the inner light 
 
 From a darkened cell ; 
 Theirs the vigil of the night, 
 Theirs the body's sore despite. 
 
 Till their passing bell.
 
 50 FROM PRIORY TO DEANERY. 
 
 Was it their true guerdon, Prior, 
 
 Or their bitter loss ? 
 Didst thou chant high Heaven nigher ? 
 Didst thou scourge thy brethren higher 
 
 Toward the Holy Cross ? 
 
 Prior ! was thy priory 
 
 Planned in monochrome ? 
 
 Prior ! rise and come with me, 
 
 Learn the vivid scenery 
 Of an English home. 
 
 Still more hoar the wonted walls ; 
 
 Prior ! pass within ; 
 Voiceless are thy virginals ; 
 Hark ! how sweet the piano calls, 
 
 And the violin.
 
 FROM PRIORY TO DEANERY. 51 
 
 Centuries have everywhere 
 
 Trod a clear impress ; 
 Children's prattle in the air, 
 Felted footfall on the stair, 
 
 Life and loveliness. 
 
 Canst thou hear the nations tread 
 
 Their quick measure, Prior ; 
 Pulses of the living sped 
 With the roll-call of the dead 
 
 O'er a single wire ? 
 
 Canst thou mark a people's stir 
 
 Down its steel roads hurled ? 
 Dost thou heed the constant spur ? 
 Dost thou hear in ceaseless whirr 
 
 Hot wheels of the world ?
 
 52 FROM PRIORY TO DEANERY. 
 
 Prior, rest ! the busy sun 
 
 Watches from afar 
 Moaning tides of battle run 
 To a silence, only won 
 
 Through the din of war. 
 
 All our later day is rife 
 
 With an eager breath ; 
 Hearts are hungered for the strife, 
 And with the assault of life 
 Storm the gates of death.
 
 LYRICS. 
 
 III.— OF HER NEIGHBOURHOOD.
 
 HILL AND DALE 55 
 
 HILL AND DALE. 
 
 Time was when the great mother, Earth, 
 Or ever she gave mankind birth, 
 Wearied of her same station, set 
 In one subservience to the sun : 
 A single tremor of regret 
 Shivered her circle as she spun ; 
 And in a moment's space awoke 
 The pride of all her wheeling mass ;
 
 56 HILL AND DALE. 
 
 With a majestic thrill she broke 
 The age-long bondage of her place ; 
 She leaned a little, bowed her yoke, 
 And bent another sunward face. 
 
 Then was her framework shaped anew, 
 Old order to disorder grew ; 
 The startled ocean from its bed 
 Flung a salt torrent, that was shed 
 O'er moor and forest, dale and fell, 
 And laid an everlasting spell 
 Of silence and unfathomed night, 
 Where days had wrought their fresh delight, 
 Where mid-land springs and summers smiled. 
 And stately mountain-tops were isled 
 And humbled by a hungry tide. 
 Where once in a sequestered pride 
 Massed legions of the clouds were piled,
 
 HILL AND DALE. $7 
 
 The silent homage of the sky, 
 The ermine robes of royalty. 
 
 And as the serried armament 
 Of waters tossed a foaming head 
 For conquest of a continent, 
 New kingdoms from the ocean-bed 
 Leapt from their everlasting tomb 
 Of gathered death and endless gloom, 
 And lifted quivering on high 
 Stared blindly to an unknown sky. 
 
 Forthwith the face of all our land 
 Was tumbled in a thousand folds, 
 The naked framework of our wolds ; 
 Then came the years with power to bless, 
 And in their train came laughing Spring 
 With flowers in her dainty dress,
 
 S8 HILL AND DALE. 
 
 Who paused, and fell to wondering, 
 And bade unloveliness grow fair ; 
 And Summer came, and trod the heel, 
 The dancing heel of winsome Spring, 
 And loved the labour of repair ; 
 And Autumn set her crimson seal 
 Of flaming leaf and ripened fruit 
 On the impress of Summer's foot. 
 
 And in a fuller time 
 A people, plucked from its own soil. 
 Braved seas to seek a fairer clime, 
 A land of promise for its toil. 
 And when they saw the morn unveil 
 The silver thread, that halves the dale, 
 The dale, that severs hill from hill, 
 They knew their pilgrimage o'ercome — 
 Hailed it a vision to fulfil
 
 HILL AND DALE. 59 
 
 Hearts that were throbbing for a home. 
 
 Then stooping down a later gale, 
 That spread them over guardian seas, 
 An iron people, mailed and helmed, 
 Cast vulture glances, and o'erwhelmed 
 In clash of arms the ordered peace ; 
 Found, where the elbowed upland springs, 
 Meet throne-room for a line of kings ; 
 Saw her grow ever statelier, 
 Reared keep and bastion, and unfurled 
 A banner, that emblazoned her 
 A mistress city of the world. 
 
 What though her pomp be broken ? still 
 The flattering years repeat their tale ; 
 The seasons over stream and dale 
 Ply their bright trade from hill to hill.
 
 6o HILL AND DALE. 
 
 Here is no torrent-cloven gorge, 
 
 No black chasm rent from mid-world forge ; 
 
 But an illumined open scroll 
 
 Of mossy hollow, velvet knoll, 
 
 Soft dimples, where the cradled wind 
 
 Whispers good-night, and wakes to find 
 
 Earth's mantle gemmed with diamond rime 
 
 From autumn tilth to lambing-time. 
 
 Behind the ploughman morn by morn 
 
 The furrow whitens with a drift 
 
 Of snowy sea-birds ; and the thorn 
 
 Puts shyly on its stainless shift ; 
 
 And lengthening days abundantly 
 
 Sift emerald dust upon the larch, 
 
 That points an April rainbow arch, 
 
 And shakes its scarlet tassels free. 
 
 And gives a gay good-bye to March.
 
 HILL AND DALE. 6i 
 
 The plover cries the summer in 
 With its feigned burden of a sin 
 Across a waste of ragged bent. 
 The linnet spends enraptured breath 
 In simple staves of long content, 
 Hymning his love, who broods beneath 
 The cloth of gold upon the whin. 
 The lark's song fades, and drops more nigh, 
 Drawing a bond 'twixt earth and sky 
 Of musical communion. 
 The streaming south wind riots on 
 Drunk with the passion it has won 
 From seas that sparkled to the sun ; 
 Flings upward as an unseen surf 
 The stinging incense of the turf, 
 And dances harping through the woods. 
 Mating with music all its moods ; 
 While over field and fell is played
 
 62 HILL AND DALE. 
 
 Tihe endless chase of sun and shade. 
 Embroidered hedgerows, week by week 
 Put other garlands on, that blow 
 And wither, till the scarlet glow 
 Lies vivid on October's cheek. 
 
 Here in this roofless unglassed fane 
 The ties of human brotherhood 
 Melt in a mist of solitude, 
 And dimmer sight unclouds again. 
 A limitless religion springs 
 In unconfined imaginings 
 Straight to the heart of hidden things. 
 Stripped of the vainer tricks of dress. 
 That cumbered all its singleness ; 
 And in a frenzy to be free 
 Drinks living draughts of liberty. 
 And broadening paths are lightly trod.
 
 HILL AND DALE. 63 
 
 And airy feet are vision-shod, 
 And lost is all humanity 
 In the immensity of God.
 
 64 TO ITCH EN RIVER. 
 
 TO ITCHEN RIVER. 
 
 I AM not often weary of the world, 
 But thou art fair, so passing fair, 
 That I could feign a deep despair. 
 
 To feel thy crystal-clear caresses curled 
 About me in a love divine. 
 And own my being wholly thine. 
 
 Thou wilt bewitch me from the walls I love ; 
 There needs than thine no other call 
 To bind me evermore thy thrall ; 
 
 I'll claim thy diamond wave my treasure-trove,
 
 TO ITCH EN RIVER. 65 
 
 And find some magic to beguile 
 The largess of thy silver smile. 
 
 Thine is no passion of a wanton growth ; 
 
 No winter access makes thee rave, 
 
 No summer languor slows thy wave ; 
 But thine the surety of transparent troth, 
 
 A constant heart that falters not, 
 
 Within the steadfast hills begot. 
 
 Oh ! sweet adown the vale thy music swings ; 
 
 And evermore, come night, come noon, 
 
 When I o'erhear thy voice attune 
 The stones to cymbals and the reeds to strings, 
 
 I shall entreat, again, again, 
 
 The burden of thy low refrain. 
 
 Spell-bound we'll loiter 'neath the bridge, within 
 The shadow of its solemn hush,
 
 66 TO ITCH EN RIVER. 
 
 Nor heed the mad train's frenzied rush ; 
 We'll steal aside to shun the mill-wheel's din, 
 And smile to hear how vainly Time 
 Beckons us from some steepled chime. 
 
 We shall be greeted by the twinkling vole ; 
 Iris and spotted mimulus 
 Will squander golden smiles on us 
 
 Of friendship ; and we'll take a fragrant toll 
 From meadow-sweet, and briars that twine 
 With perfumed chaplets of woodbine. 
 
 The winds will stoop and play across thy face, 
 And ruffling jealously above 
 Will envy me thy dimpled love : 
 
 The halcyon, pausing in his radiant chase, 
 Will cleave the water to thy heart, 
 To commune with us all apart.
 
 TO ITCH EN RIVER. . 67 
 
 And when, above the sunset's amethyst, 
 
 The sovereign moon through quivering space 
 Finds her wan echo in thy face, 
 
 We'll bid the evening spin an opal mist, 
 
 Through which no saucy star may peep 
 And marvel that we do not sleep. 
 
 Of love or ruth thou wilt encrystal me ; 
 And so my body shall not die j 
 We'll strike a truce, will Death and I, 
 
 We'll seal eternal compacts laughingly. 
 Time on his single way shall go, 
 And leave us in the ebb and flow, 
 
 The hymnal of the everlasting sea. 
 
 F 2
 
 68 IN THE HOSPITAL OF ST. CROSS. 
 
 IN THE HOSPITAL OF ST. CROSS. 
 
 I PASSED within the gates, and laid 
 
 My burden by ; 
 The bell tolled Vespers, and I prayed 
 
 A sanctuary. 
 
 The world without of man and man 
 
 Was torn in twain ; 
 I passed within ; the rent began 
 
 To close again.
 
 IN THE HOSPITAL OF ST. CROSS. 69 
 
 Sweet Mercy, with her flowery crown 
 
 And brimming eyes, 
 And smiling Peace slid softly down 
 
 The evening skies. 
 
 And Mercy at my side did stand, 
 
 And took my scrip ; 
 And Peace divinely gave her hand 
 
 Of fellowship. 
 
 Oh heart ! the sweet content to turn 
 
 Life's latest page ; 
 To take the evening dole, and earn 
 
 A toil-less wage : 
 
 To lie and watch a golden stream 
 Flood dawn to day ;
 
 70 IN THE HOSPITAL OF ST. CROSS. 
 
 To sit from noon to eve, and dream 
 My eld away : 
 
 To pass from peace to peace, and swell 
 
 The brotherhood, 
 That bartered faith for sight, and dwell 
 
 In God's green rood. 
 
 I would grow old, if age in me 
 
 Cometh to this ; 
 I would be poor, where poverty 
 
 Ennobled is.
 
 A SONG OF ST. CROSS. 71 
 
 A SONG OF ST. CROSS. 
 
 Call, cushat, call ! 
 The shadows are long ; 
 Croon over the wall 
 Thy cradle song ; 
 For sleep is the goal of the evening, 
 And Cometh ere long. 
 
 Chime, belfry, chime ! 
 For the silent dial, 
 Enamoured of Time, 
 Takes no denial ; 
 And the years, that are gathered and garnered, 
 Are mute as the dial.
 
 73 A SONG OF ST. CROSS. 
 
 Flow, river, flow ! 
 The wide sea hath rest ; 
 And autumn shall strow 
 Sere leaves on thy breast ; 
 For the waters, that stirred in their noonday, 
 Are fain of their rest. 
 
 Hush, south wind, hush ! 
 In a dream of peace ; 
 While the wan skies flush 
 To the day's release ; 
 For the day hath been dreamed to its twilight, 
 And the end is peace.
 
 IN THE PHESS. 
 
 The Episcopal Registers of John of Sandale 
 AND Reginald Asser. Edited by Mr. F. J. Baigent. 
 700 pp. , demy 8vo. , cloth. 21^. net. 
 
 Winchester Cathedral Documents, partly collected 
 by the Dean of Durham, and edited by Dean Stephens 
 and Rev. F. T. Madge. Demy 8vo. 15^. net. 
 
 History of the Town of Alton, by Wm. Curtis, 
 numerous Illustrations. Demy 8vo. , cloth. 6^. net. 
 
 WARREN & SON, WINCHESTER.
 
 N
 
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