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 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 POEMS.
 
 POEMS 
 
 BY 
 
 THE HON. JULIAN FANE 
 
 LONDON 
 WILLIAM PICKERING 
 
 1852
 
 /5f 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 Pase 
 
 PRELUDE 9 
 
 Ad Matrem 17 
 
 To Kathleen 22 
 
 To the Same 24 
 
 To the Same 25 
 
 Sonnet 26 
 
 To Margaret 27 
 
 Ode 29 
 
 Song o4 
 
 Epistle ob 
 
 Sonnet 41 
 
 To Minna 42 
 
 To the Same 44 
 
 Nuneham 45 
 
 Brindisi 48 
 
 Song 51 
 
 To Leonora 52 
 
 Phoebe 54 
 
 A Fragment 55 
 
 To Lydia 56 
 
 A Simile 57 
 
 Song 58 
 
 From the German of Heine &0 
 
 Idem 61 
 
 Idem 62 
 
 Idem 63 
 
 •> # -» i^-.-
 
 vi Contents. 
 
 Page 
 Fragment 64 
 
 To Olivia 65 
 
 Maude 66 
 
 A Choral Ode 67 
 
 Agnes 69 
 
 Necessity 71 
 
 The Dirge 72 
 
 The Complaint 74 
 
 The Simile 77 
 
 The Epitaph 78 
 
 The Lay of Bragi 79 
 
 Jerusalem 93 
 
 The Poet's Petition 107 
 
 Ad Matrem 108
 
 PRELUDE.
 
 PRELUDE. 
 
 " Then, to the measure of the light vouchsafed, 
 " Shine, poet, in thy place, and be content." 
 
 Wordsworth. 
 
 I ATHER ! who from the fountain of 
 thy Love 
 Feedest thy worlds with never failing 
 streams, 
 
 And, with the flooded fire of liquid beams, 
 Bathest thy Universe in healing light, — 
 Thou view'st thy starry systems roll, 
 Each atom one harmonious whole. 
 Thou watchest Earth revolve her Pole, 
 Nor is the daisy hidden from thy sight ! 
 On all thy works thy studious cares attend : 
 The slightest glory of thy plastic hand 
 Thou, with some sapient, special aim hast planned, 
 And sanctified onto some separate end ! 
 
 B
 
 10 Prelude. 
 
 Obedient to thy wise behest, 
 
 When Morning opes her eyes serene. 
 Deep in the valley, not unseen. 
 The flowei'et blossoms in its dewy nest, 
 And, ere the Noon hath ceased to be, 
 Inanimate droops upon the mother breast ; 
 Aloft, the sapling oak survives to crest 
 
 The mountain -top a century ! 
 Endued with power to work thy various "Will, 
 Thou fashionest forth thy creatures in their place. 
 Where each alone its destined part may fill, 
 Or fill alone with majesty and grace I 
 The oak, transplanted from its native hill, 
 Sickens and droops upon the stranger soil : 
 And he who to the short-lived flower 
 Would add a moment's vital power 
 Sees the sere plantling mock his foolish toil ! 
 But he who, rebel to thy Laws which bind 
 Each Soul projected on her orbic way. 
 Who tampers with the immortal Mind, 
 To warp her from the course defined 
 Wherein thy hands her musical motions sway, . 
 Shall hear in secret, from within. 
 Great Nature cry to scare him from the sin : 
 And, to her warning deaf, shall view 
 Tenfold Confusion's curse pursue 
 The staggering Planet as she swerves astray ! 
 Unsphered and inharmonious life,
 
 Prelude. 11 
 
 Perverted to a lawless aim, 
 
 What peace, what concord can it claim, 
 
 With Nature and with God at strife ? 
 
 Though deathless Conscience cease her cries, 
 
 A'exed Hope's complainings yet will jar 
 
 The music of the Soul, and mar 
 
 The Spirit's matchless melodies ; 
 
 Where Trust and Faith no longer dwell. 
 
 Thy Presence flees the truth-abandoned plan. 
 
 And in the desecrated heart of man, 
 
 Thy temple, reign the powers of Hell I 
 
 Early — almost with Life, with dawning Thought, 
 And in the morning of my Being — She 
 Who was, who is, and to the end will be 
 The Idol of my Soul, was found unsought ! 
 Early from Heaven, her happy home, she came, 
 Muse ! Guardian Spirit ! Angel !— (by such name, 
 Sweet Visitant on earth, may I express 
 Thy sinless nature haply without blame !) — 
 And to this Soul, first vocal made to bless 
 Her advent to my heart's too humble shrine, 
 Vouchsafed her fair companionship divine. 
 Nightly these eyes she visited in dreams ; 
 She came : she looked upon me, and the light 
 Of her immortal orbs ineffable beams 
 Informed my Being with unknown delight ! 
 Such nameless grace, such majesty of mien
 
 12 Prelude. 
 
 Sat on her form, and in her face serene, 
 As moved my soul to worship as I saw ; 
 Yet on her lips meek Reverence knew her place, 
 And conscious Dignity with Holy Awe, 
 And sweet Submissiveness to Highest Law, 
 Mingled in beauty on her saintlike face ; 
 One arm, half-raised, upheld a laurel-bough, 
 And one oblique, athwart her bosom bent, 
 Sustained the lyre that on her shoulder leant : 
 A glory circled round about her brow ! 
 So she approached me nightly, nor by day 
 Was absent; though of fleshly eyes unseen. 
 My soul, enamoured of its lawful queen. 
 Felt and beheld her gracious presence near ; 
 Wert thou not with me, bland Instructress, say. 
 When opal light dissolved the darkness drear. 
 And, like a guilty thought scared by the grace 
 That harbours sweetly in an innocent face, 
 Night, at the glance of Morning, fled away ! 
 Yea ! oft together, ere the lark forsook 
 Her dwelling couched among the dewy corn, 
 Ere the stars died, before the day was born, 
 We on some Headland high our station took : 
 Together watched, well pleased, the modest Morn 
 Like some meek pilgrim (so thy whisper said I) 
 Go simply forth upon her solemn way. 
 Hooded in amice gray. 
 With sober gait demure, and virgin tread I
 
 Prelude. 13 
 
 And, when the flaming Day-star gorgeous rose, 
 Full many a fable blazoned on the clouds 
 Thou to those wistful eyes didst fair disclose : 
 Full many a pictured glory, else unseen. 
 Rich emblems rare, and many a storied scene I 
 And oft again, when Twilight veiled the world. 
 Thou bad'st me mark where in his western bower, 
 To veil a fallen hero's latest hour. 
 The crimson clouds, like banners half unfurled, 
 Drooped low in Heaven above the dying Day, 
 "Whose parting look forlorn upon them lay. 
 But chiefest rapture in the summer night I 
 When upwards soaring, spiritually free, 
 From world to world, from star to happy star 
 Thou fleddest through the heavens ! — I with thee, 
 Borne on the sheeny pennons of thy flight. 
 Swept through the shining universe afraid ! 
 For Fear fell on me, mortal, as I saw 
 A miUion systems, musically swayed 
 By unseen Hands, roll to one simple law ; 
 And, ever as they threaded intricate ways, 
 I heard, unworthy with these carnal ears. 
 The magical music of the mighty Spheres 
 Hymning their Maker's unexpressive praise : 
 Haply not heard in vain I— if not in vain. 
 To thee the tribute and the meed belong. 
 Instructress ! thou who madst my weakness strong, 
 Who purged my mental vision, and made plain
 
 14 Prelude. 
 
 To mortal ears that heavenly-choral strain ; 
 And thee, Divinest ! thee my every thought 
 Salutes sole saviour! — Guardian, gracious Guide, 
 Who, o'er the dismal, dark, disastrous tide 
 Stretching pure hands, to thy rare Presence caught 
 My rescued Soul, not rescued before time ! 
 For long it festered, weltering in the shme 
 And sloth and shame of this world's rottenness ! 
 Till thou, from those foul waters of distress, 
 From abject anguish of heart-wringing crime, 
 Sav'dst me, first smitten with thy sacred song, 
 And took'st me unto thee, at thy fair side 
 Serene, in peace for ever to abide. 
 
 Wherefore, my soul, secure in love, and strong 
 In faith that knows thee missioned from on higrh. 
 Fair Messenger of Heaven's seraphic throng ! 
 True to thy voice, true to thy sacred strain 
 Shall prove — and faithful to the end remain I 
 Though often to these eyes' distracted view, 
 In nightly visions or in dreams by day. 
 She comes, whose lips with cunning speech essay 
 To lure me from my lief allegiance due ; 
 Of Power she prates, of Glory and the gains 
 Of him whose brows the civic wreath await, 
 Who to the gilded seat supreme attains, 
 And rules the factions of the giddy State ; 
 But all too fair she gilds his guerdon proud
 
 Prelude. 15 
 
 Who toils, who wrestles for the thankless crowd, 
 To lift their burthen from dull hearts ingrate ! 
 He haply, struggling in their righteous cause, 
 Lives, suffers, dies — and scarcely meets the applause 
 Of wise men, missed amid the shriek of fools I 
 Albeit, while Heaven the equal balance rules, 
 Eternal Truth shall triumph : and when Death 
 Frees the hurt Soul, and with cold finger kind 
 Stills the great heart that throbbed for human-kind, 
 The tardy tribute of the popular breath, 
 In utterance meet of Gratitude and Love, 
 Shall reach his Spirit in the realms above I 
 
 So, unseduced by her false Syren cries, 
 I in thy Presence lief and true remain. 
 And, on thy fair face fixing faithful eyes. 
 List the blent music of thy magic strain 
 And sweet, sage voice which blandly doth advise : 
 " Covet not Wealth, nor yet desire to gain 
 " Of Glory and of Power the pageant vain ! 
 " If Wealth thou seek, so seek it amongst them 
 " W^ho in their minds those riches ti*ue contain 
 " Which silver may not purchase, nor the gold 
 " Of Ophir, nor the Ethiopian gem ; 
 " And unto thee, if Truth hath purged thine eyes, 
 " Fame, that in Earth's rank praises grossly lies, 
 " Not glorious seems, nor worthy to be gained ! 
 " Sole from Celestial founts doth Glory spring.
 
 16 Prelude. 
 
 " And by the pure alone may be attained, 
 
 " To whom the all-righteous King-, 
 
 " From Heaven's high throne in mercy bending 
 
 down, 
 " Awards the meed of an immortal crown I 
 " And thou, if false Ambition's tinselled toys 
 " Lure not from Truth thy rebel soul aside, 
 " Guerdon shalt reap of more exceeding joys 
 " Than Earth's vain mask, amid its strife and noise, 
 " Can pander to the heart of human Pride ; 
 " High Recompense and rich reversions rare ! 
 " True laurel crowns immortal, which the breath 
 " Of Slander taints not, nor the blight of Death, 
 " In Heaven's mild courts which bloom for ever 
 
 fair! 
 " Meanwhile I, with thee on Life's weary way, 
 " Teach thee to read great Nature's soul divine, 
 " Glory to Her and reverent love to pay, 
 " And, with such service as thy numbers may, 
 " To minister with music at Her Shrine ! "
 
 17 
 
 AD MATREM. 
 
 I. 
 
 SHRILL sings the merry lark, as in the east 
 Morn o'er the dun cloud steps with glowing 
 feet, 
 And Philomela from a dewy breast 
 
 Pours her wild note the rising Moon to greet : 
 The woodland rings with song, when rarely-sweet, 
 Soft airs announce the loved return of Spring, 
 
 And every grateful heart with music meet 
 Best loves aloud to gratulate and sing 
 The sight and fair recurrence of a happy thing ! 
 
 II. 
 
 Rise, happy day ! above the Eastern hills, 
 Come fair, come cloudless in unsmirched attire, 
 The mingling melodies of birds and rills 
 Thou shalt not lack, nor music of the lyre, 
 
 c
 
 18 Ad Matrem. 
 
 If my frail skill further my fond desire ; 
 
 Not Morning to the loud lark in her glee, 
 
 Nor to rapt Philomel the moon's faint fire, 
 
 Nor Spring to every bird that carols free, 
 
 Such theme for song restores as thy return to me! 
 
 III. 
 
 Whilom thou camest, smiling upon earth 
 Like one that bears glad news of sweet surprise, 
 And, by thee ushered to her mortal birth, 
 A child, now woman in her fairest guise. 
 First on the bleak world oped her infant eyes I 
 Her, through long years and seasons circling 
 
 round. 
 Larger of heart, more gracious, gentle, wise. 
 Thy annual visitation still hath found ; 
 Sweet soul of stainless worth by moral beauty 
 
 crowned ! 
 
 IV. 
 
 Once more thou comest, and the hand of Time 
 Slides a fresh pearl upon her threaded years, 
 And I once more with poverty of rhyme. 
 Rich in my large love, do salute her ears ; 
 Nor yet forbear my song, though sad appears 
 The shade of Sorrow on her tender face. 
 And sad her eyes new- watered by her tears,
 
 Ad Matrem. 19 
 
 And all her visage by the cloudlike trace 
 Of mourning shrouded in a melancholy grace. 
 
 V. 
 
 But thou wilt not rebuke because I sing, 
 Nor wonted tribute of my love forego : 
 Mother ! thou knowest no conceits I bring, 
 Nor hollow words to mock thy holy woe ; 
 Thy loss is mine ! — for him who rests below, 
 Lapt in the long night of Death's leaden sleep, 
 Our mutual tears from kindred sources flow ; 
 And while my own well from their fountain deep, 
 False words I cannot bring, nor wish thee not to 
 weep. 
 
 vr. 
 
 He sleeps ! — no storms of roused emotion mar 
 
 The waveless calm of his unruffled breast : 
 
 The strife of clamorous tongues, the world's rude 
 
 jar, 
 Pierce not the silence of his placid rest ; 
 But only winds, in whispers from the west, 
 And birds that low their timorous carol trill, 
 Sigh o'er his grave with many a wild flower drest; 
 Nightly the dews on him their tears distil. 
 The heavens shine calm above. — He sleeps — and 
 
 all is still.
 
 20 Ad Matrem. 
 
 VII, 
 
 Of him I sing-, whose blighted Spring- was brief 
 And Summer's dawn was never doomed to see, 
 Yet singing seek not to console thy grief, 
 Knowing thou hast no need of words from me ; 
 Who feedeth with the bread of tears — even He 
 Who ministered a cup of deadly wine 
 To Israel — ministered thy loss to thee, 
 But feeds thy meek and patient soul divine 
 With wisdom such as shames poor thoughts and 
 words of mine. 
 
 viir. 
 
 I wished to greet thee gaily ! but a tear 
 
 Hath dimmed the smile that hailed thy natal day : 
 
 And, as I sing, almost I seem to hear 
 
 The voice of his dear soul who passed away. 
 
 Mingling a mournful music with my lay ! 
 
 Forgive what words too much thy spirit move : 
 
 Forgive me all my weakness cannot say, 
 
 And in thy bounty listen, and approve 
 
 This faint imperfect echo of my proffered love I 
 
 IX. 
 
 As Ivy clothes the bole from which it springs 
 With leaves that fair the parent tree surround. 
 So all my clustering Love about thee clings,
 
 Ad Matrem. 21 
 
 Which else perhaps, no fit sustainment found, 
 
 Had trailed with weeds along the common ground, 
 
 Or, self-entangled, mixed with grosser clay ; 
 
 But thou, dear saint ! to whom my heart is bound. 
 
 Nearer to heaven risest every day. 
 
 And this frail soul that loves thee follows as it may I
 
 22 
 
 TO KATHLEEN. 
 
 I. 
 
 TTTHEN, in that hour which saw us part, 
 
 * * My faltering voice refused to tell 
 The anguish of an aching heart, 
 
 From thy sweet lips these accents fell : 
 
 II. 
 
 " Thou leav'st me on a darkened strand, 
 " And, fading from my faithful eye, 
 
 " Like Light thou passest from the land, 
 " And I will follow — or I die." 
 
 III. 
 
 I wait, I watch, as from a tower. 
 
 On leaden wings the minutes move ! 
 
 Thou comest not, nor comes the hour 
 That brings me tidings of my love. 
 
 IV. 
 
 I wait — and Morning comes indeed ! 
 
 I watch her glowing steps encroach 
 Upon the dark, and think to read 
 
 The signal of thy sweet approach ;
 
 To Kathleen. 23 
 
 Or draw, when twilight veils the world, 
 Vague promise from the rich array 
 
 Of clouds, like banners half unfurled, 
 That droop above the dying day. 
 
 VI. 
 
 So Morn and Eve, that slow succeed, 
 
 By turns my futile fancy fire, 
 And bring but lying thoughts to feed 
 
 An ever-unfulfilled desire. 
 
 VII. 
 
 But these blank, bitter hours that still 
 
 The daily death of hope renew. 
 Are weak to vanquish Love, and kill 
 
 The cherished thought that counts thee true.
 
 24 
 
 TO THE SAME. 
 
 KATHLEEN ! my saint, that art in heaven, 
 No griefs can cloud thy nature now ; 
 Thy sin (if sin it were !) forgiven, 
 A glory girds thy guiltless brow : 
 
 And thou with all the sainted Dead, 
 
 Who watch God's throne with happy eyes, 
 
 Dwellest where tears are never shed. 
 And only Pity sometimes sighs. 
 
 Ah ! turn not thy clear eyes below, 
 
 Lest thou, whose human tears would roll 
 
 Adown thy cheek, in streams of woe, 
 If ever sorrow dimmed my soul, 
 
 Should'st see me where I sit forlorn, 
 And rock and sway an aching breast. 
 
 And strive in vain, while so I mourn. 
 To lull my sleepless woe to rest : 
 
 Lest thou, my darling, noting this, 
 
 Should'st feel a vague sense o'er thee creep 
 
 Of something wanting to the bliss 
 Of Angel-souls — who cannot weep I
 
 25 
 
 TO THE SAME. 
 
 X SAILING on life's ocean lone, 
 -*~ Knew thee, Kathleen I while thou wast here, 
 A nature higher than my own, 
 And centred in a higher sphere ! 
 
 And looking on thee from afar. 
 Fair beacon-light to my frail bark, 
 
 I saw thee lapse, a falling star, 
 And slide into eternal dark ! 
 
 Ay me ! what voice of piteous range. 
 What song of sorrow from my lips 
 
 Can paint the black, the bitter change 
 That marred my life at thy eclipse ! 
 
 A helmless bark, by tempest torn. 
 At random on the wild waves cast, 
 
 "Whose tattered colours float forlorn. 
 In signal, from the broken mast ! 
 
 Which sail-less drives, with rigging bare, 
 Before the whirlwind's withering breath ; 
 
 Blow on ! bleak blast of keen despair, 
 And dash it on the rocks of Death ! 
 
 D
 
 26 
 
 SONNET 
 
 TO A CANARY-BIRD, TRAINED TO DRAW SEED 
 
 AND WATER FROM A GLASS-WELL 
 
 SUSPENDED TO ITS CAGE. 
 
 THOU should'st be carolling thy Maker's praise, 
 Poor bird ! now fettered, and here set to draw, 
 
 With graceless toil of beak and added claw. 
 The meagre food that scarce thy want allays ! 
 And this — to gratify the gloating gaze 
 
 Of fools, who value Nature not a straw, 
 
 But know to prize the infraction of her law 
 And hard perversion of her creature's ways ! 
 Thee the vi^ild woods await, in leaves attired, 
 
 Where notes of liquid utterance should engage 
 Thy bill, that now with pain scant forage earns ; 
 So art thou like that bard who, God-inspired 
 
 To charm the world with song, was set to gauge 
 Beer-barrels for his bread — half-famish'd Burns !
 
 27 
 
 TO MARGARET. 
 
 NOT from that vanity of rhyme 
 Which leads the Muse, in flowery lays, 
 To lavish an unmeaning praise 
 On such as haply scorn her verse sublime ; 
 
 Not from that vain conceit 
 Which thinks in solemn verse and slow, 
 With dull monotony of measured feet, 
 To ease the burthen of another's woe : 
 
 Do I intrude 
 Upon the stillness of thy solitude I 
 
 Far from the giddy throng, 
 The pensive mind, wrapt in a dream, 
 Broods o'er the recollected theme 
 
 In silent meditation long I 
 Shadowy thoughts sweep o'er the brain, 
 Wild Fancy leads the various train : 
 Some flash like light and flit away. 
 Some pause awhile upon their way, 
 Lo ! others come — but will they stay ? 
 The many pass — the few remain I
 
 28 To Margaret. 
 
 Nursed in the silent mind, 
 The slowly-gathered thought may dwell 
 Long time, locked in its secret cell, 
 
 Because no exit can it find ; 
 For like that flower which, full of grace. 
 
 Shrinks from the garish eye of day. 
 And, when the sun would look into its face, 
 
 Folds all its fairness up and turns away : 
 Yet, when the darker hours serene 
 Lead up through heaven their radiant Queen, 
 
 Expands its bosom to the Moon, 
 And to the breeze delivers up 
 The gather'd sweetness of its cup. 
 
 Yielding to Night what it withheld from Noon : 
 
 So, midst the factious scenes of life, 
 Scared by the turmoil and the strife, 
 
 The pensive mind within itself retires; 
 And from the crowd's obtrusive gaze 
 
 Veiling its lofty thoughts and deep desires. 
 Nought but the surface of itself displays ; 
 
 But when at length arrives the peaceful hour, 
 And, from her home beyond the sky 
 Descending, heaven-born Poesy 
 
 Puts forth about the heart her power ; 
 W ith ecstasy of pleasure. 
 
 The mind, expanding slow, itself unfolds, 
 And to the Muse (sole mistress of its treasure) 
 
 Yields all the gather'd sweetness which it holds.
 
 To Margaret. 29 
 
 Now comes the sweet, the silent hour ! 
 The Muse puts forth her plastic power, 
 
 And sheds her genial influence round: 
 And from their cavern unconfined. 
 Wild fancies, passing from my mind, 
 
 Shall clothe themselves in sound. 
 Nor thou, in thine exalted pride, 
 
 My lowly verse disdain ; 
 Full well I know, if harshly tried, 
 
 My unpremeditated strain 
 Unto thy critic ear must seem 
 All too unworthy of its theme; 
 But such as I can give, — 
 An offering frail — O scorn not to receive! 
 
 ODE. 
 
 I. 
 
 1"^HE year lies bound in wintry chains, 
 The keen frost sparkles in the air, 
 The snow-sheet whitens all the plains, 
 The leafless trees are black and bare ; 
 The swallow hath fled o'er the lea. 
 The songsters make no minstrelsy. 
 The bitter wind makes hollow moan ;
 
 30 Ode. 
 
 Around eacli household hearth a throng 
 Is gathered for the tale or song ; 
 But thou art not the groups among, 
 Thou sittest in the house alone ! 
 
 II. 
 
 The year is up, and full of mirth, 
 
 The laughing plains are decked with green, 
 Spring walks upon the happy earth. 
 
 The vernal breezes blow serene ; 
 
 The birds pour song from every tree, 
 Beneath them hums the murmuring bee. 
 
 The air is rife with merriest sound; 
 All hearts are light — the hour is sweet, 
 Glad faces in the sunshine meet, 
 Both young and old leave their retreat, 
 
 But thou with Solitude art found I 
 
 III. 
 
 Thou art not of a sullen mind, 
 For thou art loving, gentle, good ; 
 
 Thou art no hater of thy kind, 
 But thou adorest Solitude. 
 
 The Seasons change, the fleeting years 
 
 Pass on ; — in thee no change appears, 
 Thou art the same from day to day ;
 
 Ode. 31 
 
 Calm, quiet, amorous of rest, 
 But, with an equal temper blest. 
 Not bitter to the stranger guest 
 Who traverses thy lonely way. 
 
 IV. 
 
 All in thy soUtary hours 
 What consolation dost thou find? 
 
 Large comfort from those heavenly Powers 
 That brood about the lofty mind ; 
 
 The spirits of the Great and Good 
 
 Attend upon thy solitude. 
 With Wisdom's philosophic scroll ; 
 
 And from the bright immortal page 
 
 Of bard inspired, and reverend sage, 
 
 (The Wise and Just of every age) 
 Is fed the fountain of thy soul. 
 
 V. 
 
 Then let the silly blockhead prate 
 About " the joyous and the free ! " 
 
 And gravely shake his empty pate, 
 And mourn the lot of such as thee I 
 
 He knoweth not (himself unblest) 
 
 The calm contentment of that breast 
 Where dwells divine Philosophy ;
 
 32 Ode. 
 
 She takes the salt from human tears, 
 She leaps the gulf of countless years, 
 And, scorning abject doubts and fears, 
 Points upwards to her home — the sky ! 
 
 vr. 
 
 I will not say that thou art free 
 From thoufyhts which wrinsf the tender heart 
 
 The reflex of thy memory 
 May haply cause thy tears to start ; 
 
 Thou art so full of mystery, 
 
 I will not scan thy history, 
 But let me speak that which I know : 
 
 If gentle in thy thoughts and deeds 
 
 Thou, having sown thy generous seeds, 
 
 Hast reaped in tears a crop of weeds, 
 Thou hast great comfort in thy woe I 
 
 VII. 
 
 O'er countless wrongs the heart aggrieved, 
 In anguish for a space may brood ; 
 
 But happy he, who hath received, 
 And not requited, ill for good I 
 
 The shining deeds by Virtue done, 
 
 (As through the tempest breaks the Sun) 
 Their rays through clouds of sorrow dart ;
 
 Ode. 33 
 
 And, whatsoe'er thy griefs, I know 
 A thousand virtuous acts bestow 
 (Though breaking through thick mists of woe) 
 Their heavenly sunshine on thy heart. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 But here I cease my minstrelsy, 
 Too fearful lest I miss my end; 
 
 And, tender heart, in wounding thee, 
 Against my better thought offend. 
 
 Thou hast no need of words from me, 
 
 For thine own soul's divinity 
 Can lift thee from the world below ; 
 
 And, passing through thy upturned eyes 
 
 Into the regions of the skies, 
 
 Thy spirit can sublimely rise 
 Beyond the thoughts of earthly woe I
 
 34 
 
 SONG. 
 
 THE winds are lulled in perfect sleep, 
 The slumbering' leaves they are not stirred, 
 And only from his covert deep 
 
 The nightingale's sweet note is heard; 
 He sings and trills, nor waiteth long 
 
 Ere from the hazel-copses nigh, 
 His happy mate her happiest song 
 Attunes into a sweet reply ! 
 
 So answer, dearest ! thou, nor wake 
 
 The echoes rudely to my ear, 
 Or this wild heart I feel will break 
 
 At sudden joy, to know thee near; 
 But softly sing that, through the trees. 
 
 Thy voice, before thee on the pad, 
 May reach me like a plaintive breeze. 
 
 And like a sigh that is not sad.
 
 35 
 
 EPISTLE 
 
 AD AMICUM. 
 
 , AIR youth ! to whom kind Fortune has assigned 
 
 F 
 
 A frame well fitted to thy graceful mind ; 
 (Thy mind ! — whose graver parts by all revered, 
 Whose gentler virtues are to all endeared !) 
 Thou ! in whose happy nature rest combined 
 A serious judgment and a wit refined, 
 Grave when thy duty claims the soldier's part, 
 Prompt in the field and skilful in thy art : 
 Gay when the banquet crowns the circling board, 
 Quick with the sparkling jest and ready word — 
 All hail, my friend ! may it through life be thine 
 To prosper, and to call thee " friend " be mine I 
 
 But say, my Cyril, tell the enquiring Muse, 
 (To one so courteous can thy lips refuse?) 
 "What biting care, or what sore-wounding dart. 
 Hath pierced the tender surface of thy heart? 
 Caused thee to hang the head, to heave the sigh. 
 And fix thy languid gaze on vacancy ? 
 To commune with thyself in serious mood, 
 To fly from all in search of Solitude ?
 
 36 Epistle ad Amicum. 
 
 Hath robbed thy cheek of all its native hue, 
 And set the lily where the rose once grew ? 
 Hath sealed thy lips ; where merriment once hung, 
 Hath set grave Silence on thy jocund tongue? 
 
 Still wilt thou not confess? — well, be it so! 
 Discretion wise all prudent lovers know : 
 Yet all in vain — what thou hast close concealed, 
 The observant Muse hath for herself revealed, 
 Tells thee " thou lov'st " — and in thy rash reply 
 Hears the low murmur of a gracious lie ! 
 O ! that the Muse might view the peerless fair. 
 Her virtues countless, and her beauty rare ! 
 Soon should the groves her well-sung praise resound. 
 And echo, listening, catch the swelling sound ; 
 While grateful gales the gentle song should bear 
 In melodies of dreams to Cyril's ear ! . 
 But though thou dost ordain that none should know 
 The fair inflicter of thy pleasing woe. 
 And, selfish thus, the exclusive right dost claim 
 To hold the treasure of thy angel's name. 
 Yet may the Muse, though unendued with power 
 To paint the living beauties of the flower, 
 Tell, as she sails on Fancy's pinion free, 
 Not what she is, but what thy love should be ! 
 
 Lo ! on the margin of a crystal stream 
 Whose rippling waters — while the sunset's beam
 
 Epistle ad Amicum. 37 
 
 Kisses the surface with its parting ray — 
 All sweetly warble to declining day, 
 A maiden stands I — the waters as they flow 
 Image her form reflected fair below, 
 And paint, with happiest imitative art, 
 Distinct the whole and each minuter part I 
 Ah ! may the Muse, as fortunate as they. 
 Her faultless charms with equal truth portray ! 
 
 Silent and motionless beside the stream, 
 
 Her soul all wrapt in some divinest dream. 
 
 Her every sense in trance ecstatic bound. 
 
 She stands unconscious of the scene around ! 
 
 Loose o'er her limbs a folding drapery thrown, 
 
 Sits unconfined, save by a golden zone 
 
 Which circling clasps it round her slender waist ; 
 
 (No modern maiden she, severely laced!) 
 
 And now behold ! the kindly breezes blow 
 
 And lift the garment from that breast of snow, 
 
 More white than Parian marble 1 and the blue 
 
 Which streaks that white is of the harebell's hue ; 
 
 With gentle undulations swells that breast, 
 
 As ocean heaves when storms are lulled to rest : 
 
 'Tis sweet to slumber rocked upon the deep, 
 
 But ah ! 'twere rapture on such breast to sleep ! 
 
 Her naked feet, so tiny and so fair, 
 
 Rest on the bank among the wild flowers there : 
 
 The flowers of every shape and every shade,
 
 38 Epistle ad Amicum. 
 
 By Nature's hand in glittering hues arrayed, 
 
 Show Hke rare gems, through verdant mosses seen, 
 
 Cased in a setting of enamelled green ; 
 
 But loveliest far of all the gems around 
 
 Are those small feet — like pearls, so smooth, so 
 
 round ! 
 As past the maid the waters wandering go. 
 They pause a space or e'er they forwards flow, 
 And, gliding to the bank with murmurs sweet. 
 They upwards leap and kiss her snowy feet. 
 Then fast retreating leave the verdant shore, 
 And onwards babble merrier than before ! 
 But see ! she moves — perchance her mind has 
 
 caught 
 From out its musings some more happy thought, 
 Which prompts her thus to raise her downcast eyes 
 And lift them radiant to the ruddy skies ! 
 Bright are those orbs as is the sapphire's blaze 
 Which shines resplendent with emitted rays ; 
 Of equal fire, so of congenial hue. 
 Those eyes are bathed in clear crystalline blue; 
 The long-drawn lash which from the lid depends 
 A softening shadow to their lustre lends. 
 Tempers the fire which from beneath them darts. 
 And to their blue a deeper tint imparts. 
 Smooth is her brow I as yet remorseless Care, 
 With ruthless hand, hath ploughed no furrow there: 
 There bright Intelligence alone doth shine,
 
 Epistle ad Amicum. 39 
 
 The g-od-like tenant of a throne divine I 
 
 Her cheek's pure tint is like the healthful glow 
 
 Which ripening- blushes on the peach bestow ; 
 
 Her lips are red as I'oses in their bloom, 
 
 And sweet as roses is her breath's perfume ; 
 
 Her glossy hair, of dark luxuriant brown, 
 
 In rich profusion sweeps her form adown ; 
 
 No silken fillets those long locks resist, 
 
 Which in thick clusters fall where'er they list ; 
 
 No need has she Art's service to employ. 
 
 Art could not beautify, and might destroy, 
 
 Nature most richly, from her ample store, 
 
 Hath decked that head, and Art could do no more 
 
 That fairy form, adorned by every grace ! 
 
 The fascination of that saintlike face ! 
 
 The perfect mould of that soft swelling breast, 
 
 The stamp of beauty on each limb impressed ! 
 
 These who may sing? the trembling Muse surveys. 
 
 Glows as she sees, and knows not how to praise. 
 
 Beholds that form of symmetry divine. 
 
 And lacks the art its graces to define I 
 
 But ah I if this be Cyril's angel here. 
 
 Well is his love bestowed ! " Fair youth, appear !" 
 
 Unnumbered voices rend the happy skies, 
 
 " Come, Cyril, come — and claim thy worthy prize : 
 
 " May the kind dews of Heaven fall from above, 
 
 " With richest blessings to anoint thy love I " 
 
 And now behold ! fast fall the shades of Night,
 
 40 Epistle ad Amicum. 
 
 And the fair vision fades before my sight ; 
 
 One long, one lingering look ! — the dream is o'er, 
 
 The spell dissolved, and I entranced no more! 
 
 My friend! for whom this simple lyre was strung, 
 If the fond Muse hath pleased thee as she sung. 
 And tuned her lay according to thy will, 
 Happy the Muse ! — her votary happier still ! 
 
 4
 
 41 
 
 SONNET 
 
 TO LOUISA. 
 
 IN the deep stillness of a summer even, 
 The noiseless death-hour of departing day ! 
 Oftimes I haunt thy grave : the breeze from 
 
 Heaven 
 Brings me thy voice — ^beside me lies thy clay ! 
 A happy task ! to watch thy lowly bed, 
 Peaceful, without a tear ! — in earlier days, 
 I wept in torrents for that thou wast dead, 
 But now my love a calmer tribute pays ! 
 Nursed by Affliction many a lengthened year, 
 My heart hath ceased to harbour vain regret. 
 But cherishes this thought — that thou art near, 
 And hoverest ever round thy brother yet ! 
 I hear thy voice in every breeze that blows, 
 And intercourse with thine my happy spirit knows !
 
 42 
 
 TO MINNA. 
 
 THE lad, who holds his honour fast, 
 Writhes long beneath the scourging cane 
 In silence — but lets slip at last 
 A little stifled cry of pain : 
 And I — who hold this doctrine good. 
 That Silence oft reproveth best — 
 Send from an all-unwilling breast 
 A little murmur, long subdued ! 
 
 Oh ! rich in every charm that breathes 
 Enchantment on Love's plighted vows I 
 Oh I skilled to bind the sweetest wreaths 
 That ever crowned Love's happy brows ! 
 How is't that petty Wrath destroys 
 So oft thy smile by frownlets crossed ? 
 How is't thy sweet, sweet voice so oft 
 Doth vex my heart with wrangling noise ? 
 
 " Truth by true love be not denied !" 
 (Thou answerest in a merry mood) 
 " And true is that reproach implied 
 " In thy low murmur long subdued ; 
 " But love, if Love a changeling be.
 
 To Minna. 43 
 
 " Now warm and kind, now cross and cool, 
 " Love follows but the golden rule 
 " Of pleasing by variety ! 
 
 " Heaven's face, so fair, knows ceaseless change, 
 
 " And ceaseless change fair Ocean knows ; 
 
 " Nature's fair voice delights to range, 
 
 " Each breeze a manifold music blows ; 
 
 " All sights and sounds the Powers above 
 
 " Vouchsafe us vary, and are fair ; 
 
 " And those same Powers, to make Love fair, 
 
 " Denied monotony to Love I " 
 
 Arch-sophist ! jester 1 Thou for this 
 Shalt suffer, trust me, by and bye ; 
 Trust me, I know a cruel kiss ! 
 And thou shalt suffer by and bye ; 
 Meanwhile the Muse, truth-loving Muse, 
 Hearing thy voice as she swept by. 
 Paused — and now prompts an apt reply. 
 Which gives to thee and Love your dues. 
 
 Wide-natured, manifold in change, 
 
 Eagle and nightingale and dove. 
 
 Endowed with voice of boundless range, 
 
 — The Powers who made him meant that Love, 
 
 Proud king, meek wretch, or merry loon. 
 
 Should chaunt a million airs divine ; 
 
 They never meant that Love, like thine. 
 
 Should sometimes carol out of tune I
 
 44 
 
 TO THE SAME. 
 
 THY words imply that Love, which bides 
 In human breasts, perforce must know 
 A rise and fall, an ebb and flow, 
 As constant as the ocean-tides ; 
 
 Be it so I with those whose petty cares 
 In narrow hearts have sown disease ; 
 Dearest I thou art unlike to these, 
 Nor should thy love resemble theirs ; 
 
 Be thy rare love like that sweet sea 
 Which, peerless, owns enchanted waves, 
 And in still beauty tideless laves 
 The happy shores of Italy I 
 
 I 
 I
 
 45 
 NUNEHAM. 
 
 A FAREWELL. 
 
 AS one who, wandering weary, faint with pain. 
 Across some desert plods his irksome way, 
 While, fierce from heaven, the burning eye of Day 
 Glares his full fervour on the herbless plain, — 
 Led by some spirit that guides his pathless feet, 
 Attains, surprised, some happy spot retired, 
 Where clustering boughs dispose a cool retreat : 
 Delicious shade appears I 
 Whispering of airs the charmed pilgrim hears. 
 And streams of babbling water, most desired 
 By fervid lips, make music in his ears ; 
 Sweet thoughts of Peace, by calm content inspired, 
 Lap the bland soul in still delight, and throw 
 Th' oblivious veil upon her suffered woe : 
 As, prone beneath the pines, 
 Prone on the mossy, cool, umbrageous bank, 
 The wearied man reclines ; 
 Nor sleeps unvisited by fancies fair 
 And visions of delight. 
 
 Which, uninvoked, his placid dream to grace, 
 The Genius of the place 
 Propitious leads before his tranced sight ; 
 And roused at length, when fall the shades of night,
 
 46 NUNEHAM. 
 
 Preparing sad to take his onward way, 
 
 Ere from that magic spot his steps depart. 
 
 On the smooth bole, whose branches wide dispread 
 
 O'ercanopied his head, 
 
 The happy date he carves with rudest art ; 
 
 Uncouth memorial of one blissful day 
 
 Inscribed he leaves upon the graven rind, 
 
 Which, void of meaning to the stranger mind, 
 
 Well-pleased his eyes with fond regard survey ; 
 
 And forth, with many a glance behind him sent, 
 
 He takes in peace his onward way content. 
 
 So I, retreating from this blissful scene, 
 W^herein the enchanting Genius of the place, 
 Gentle and fair, adorned by every grace. 
 Reigns of all frolic sports the festive Queen, — 
 Pause, ere I part, upon this page to trace 
 My tribute to a happy day declined ; 
 Season to me of joy ! wherein the mind. 
 Sheltered from burning thought and fears that scare 
 Peace from her threshold, here in peace reclined ; 
 Reclined disburthened of her wonted care, 
 And, fed by fancies light. 
 Drained the full measure of unmixed delight. 
 Whereof these lines the faithful record bear. 
 
 To thee — bright Leader of the blithesome throng — 
 Whose graceful thought our jocund sports inspired,
 
 A Farewell. 47 
 
 Whose happy nature lent 
 
 Its mirth to all, and taught this heart content, 
 
 Grateful, I dedicate an artless song ; 
 
 And, passing from thy portal, pause to lay 
 
 Such homage at thy feet as these frail verses mav.
 
 48 
 
 BRINDISI. 
 
 THE wild wind whistles, sleet and rain, 
 Lashed downwards in a hurricane. 
 Beat loud the clattering-, pattered pane, 
 
 But fair's the weather 
 To us, well housed, here met to drain 
 The bowl together ! 
 
 The blustering storm shall not expel 
 Rare Mirth that means with us to dwell : 
 We'll hear without the fierce pell-mell. 
 
 And not sit surly : 
 But make mad noise within, to swell 
 
 The hurlyburly ! 
 
 Come, John, my lackadaisic cousin. 
 Whom now some silly slut doth cozen, 
 Whimper not woe-begone because in 
 
 Love, nor fiercely sigh ; 
 But drink — and hope to love a dozen 
 
 Or e'er you die 1
 
 Brindisi. 49 
 
 Grave Sydney, whom the cares of State 
 Engage, in vain thou look'st sedate ! 
 To-night thy wonted-wise debate 
 
 Shall turn to twaddle : 
 To-night thy brains belong to Fate, 
 
 Which shall them addle ! 
 
 Who skulks behind the open door. 
 As loth to show ?— 'tis Willy More ! 
 Come forth, best man that ever wore 
 
 An ugly feature ! 
 Of God's best gifts thou lack'st not store. 
 
 Thou honest creature ! 
 
 Come forth, the bowl is mantling high, 
 We'll drink the death of every lie, 
 The death of Cant until it die, 
 
 Drowned deep in wine ; 
 We'll send the corpse to Curate Sly, 
 
 That sleek divine ! 
 
 Let solemn knaves in hood and bands. 
 Let love-lorn youths with folded hands, 
 Let statesmen, monarchs — all the Grands 
 
 Sip tea with Sorrow ! 
 We four with her have shaken hands 
 
 Until to-morrow I
 
 50 Brindisi. 
 
 My breath grows scant, my pulse beats low, 
 A sweet, sweet sound is gurgling slow; — 
 Pour, pour, man, pour the ruby flow 
 
 With hand unchary I 
 Our first draught to the lasses, O ! 
 
 I drink to Sairev !
 
 51 
 
 SONG. 
 
 TO BLANCHE. 
 
 w 
 
 HEN brightly dawns the enchantress, Morn- 
 
 ings 
 
 From before her darkness flies, 
 She, the plains with dews adorning, 
 
 Fills the wood with harmonies ! 
 When thou thy fairy face revealest, 
 
 Within my soul dark Sorrow dies, 
 These eyes with happy tears thou feedest, 
 
 And this heart with melodies !
 
 52 
 
 TO LEONORA. 
 
 IN HER ALBUM. 
 
 LAUNCHED on the tide of life's tempestuous 
 river, 
 
 Like an autumnal leaf cast on the wave 
 Of some wild restless brook — unknowing whither 
 
 The hurrying waters tend — I go to brave 
 The treacherous billows of a stormy world ! 
 
 Oppression, Envy, and the sneers of Scorn, 
 Slander and Hate, their ample wings unfurl'd, 
 
 May fan to life a tempest yet unborn, 
 Before whose withering breath my frail bark driven 
 
 Shall struggle madly in the boiling surge. 
 With shiver'd sails and sides all widely riven, 
 
 Singing in groans its own unheeded dirge ! 
 
 Thus, ere I go, I consecrate this page 
 
 A peaceful haven for my thoughts, where they, 
 
 In the brief pauses of the tempest's rage, 
 
 May on thy happy breast their heavy burthen 
 lay;
 
 To Leonora. 53 
 
 Here, 'neath the steady beam of thy blue eye, 
 My soul shall oft communion hold with thine ; 
 
 Hither the wounded Spirit often fly 
 
 To find a refuge in thy heart's pure shrine ! 
 
 Enoug-h ! Farewell ! — in the still hours of night, 
 When Sleep o'er earth extends her silent reign, 
 
 When the round moon and every star shines bright, 
 We oft shall meet — and part to meet again !
 
 54 
 
 I 
 
 PHGEBE. 
 
 FAIR, fickle Phoebe fired my heart, 
 And up sprung conflagration dire I 
 Red Jealousy was hatched, and screamed, 
 And flapped her wings and fanned the fire : 
 
 It burned so long! — it burned so strong! 
 
 I thought whole seas had failed to drench it ; 
 Cool, with a cackle, rose Contempt — 
 
 She spat upon the flame and quenched it !
 
 oo 
 
 A FRAGMENT. 
 
 BARE of their gathered grain, the autumn fields 
 Sadden fond Memory — to whose eye they 
 paint 
 The blank, waste Present, shorn of golden years 
 Now garner'd in the granaries of the Past ; 
 And these look peace ! — but peaceful not around 
 The Boreal bleak his boisterous course pursues, 
 Whirls through the boughs, and crops the shivering 
 
 leaves 
 Which — saffron-dyed by time, or blighted black. 
 Or taken emerald-tinted — to the ground 
 Fall : like as when men's fluttering lives are reap'd 
 By Death's fell blast, they topple down decay'd 
 By age, or by the rude world's bitter breath 
 Untimely sered, or else yet verdant loosed 
 (By unseen Hands compassionate !} from care !
 
 56 
 
 TO LYDIA. 
 
 AS one vpho hears, against her will, 
 The echo of some sweetest strain, 
 Which will not cease, nor yet be plain, 
 But vaguely haunts her fancy still : 
 
 Who resteth not until she hear 
 Some voice which with fair skill awakes 
 The uncertain melody, and makes 
 
 It certain music to her ear ; 
 
 So when in thy melodious heart 
 Vague thoughts and feelings echo fair, 
 Rest not — but to the Muse repair. 
 
 And she shall soothe thee by her art ; 
 
 Tell her of vaguest sense of pain, 
 Of love, of joy, of hope or fear. 
 And she, in magic music clear. 
 
 Shall speak thy sweet thoughts back again !
 
 57 
 
 A SIMILE. 
 
 A THRONED queen listening the musical 
 love 
 Of thronging multitudes, resembleth thee 
 Seated upon the waters, and above 
 
 Bearing thy bold brov?, beautiful and free. 
 While at thy sovereign feet the subject Sea 
 Rolls — and vast multitudes of vocal waves, 
 
 With such strange din as Love and Liberty 
 Send from the wild hearts of new-franchised slaves, 
 Salute thy ear, and echo, Albion ! through thy 
 caves.
 
 i 
 
 58 ^ 
 
 SONG. 
 
 I AM far, far away, and the billows of Ocean 
 Divide me, beloved, from thee ; 
 I am far, far away — but the Spirit's devotion 
 Leaps o'er the broad waters to thee ! 
 No bonds can controul 
 The passionate soul. 
 But away to its far home it flies ! 
 The lark they may prison, 
 But her spirit hath risen 
 And soared to its own native skies ! 
 
 And where is the haven for which my soul pineth ? 
 
 Alone on thy fond, fond breast; 
 There often in fancy my Spirit reclineth, 
 And the restless is at rest ! 
 To live for a while 
 In the hope of thy smile, 
 More full than the promise of May : 
 To forget this harsh life. 
 All the turmoil and strife, 
 And dream a short hour away ! 
 
 Oh ! strong is the magical spell of its power. 
 When Sympathy links heart to heart,
 
 Song. 59 
 
 The hoarse winds may howl, and the tempest may- 
 lour, 
 Even Death shall not tear them apart ; 
 For when, its bonds riven, 
 The soul flees to heaven, 
 And knows its more glorious birth : 
 By the night's tranquil beams. 
 In the music of dreams 
 Still it speaks to its kindred on earth ! 
 
 Then think not, beloved, because we are parted 
 
 I shall not be with thee this nio-ht : 
 We are two, single-souled : we are two, single- 
 hearted : 
 Already my spirit takes flight ! 
 I soar up on high, 
 I cleave the blue sky, 
 On the wings of wild fancy I flee : 
 And the winds lag behind 
 The swift swoop of my mind 
 Which flashes throusjh darkness to thee !
 
 60 
 
 FROM THE GERMAN OF HEINE. 
 
 A S I each morning past thy dwelling, 
 -*-^ Like some unearthly traveller, flit, 
 It glads my heart, O lovely maiden ! 
 To see thee at the casement sit. 
 
 Thou seemest with thy dark-brown eyes 
 Me curiously to watch and scan ; 
 
 " Who art thou ? and what aileth thee ? 
 Thou strange, forlorn, unhappy man I " 
 
 I am a German Poet, I ! 
 
 Through German-land ail-widely famed ; 
 When men speak of their greatest men, 
 
 The name I bear is also named. 
 
 And that which aileth me, my girl. 
 Ails many a German heart untamed ; 
 
 When men speak of their greatest woes, 
 The woe I feel is also named.
 
 61 
 
 IDEM. 
 
 FIRST Love, albeit a hapless passion, 
 He who feels it is a god ! 
 But he who twice a hapless passion 
 Cherishes — he is a clod ! 
 
 I, once again, a hapless passion 
 
 Cherish — what a clod am I ! 
 Sun, Moon and Stars are laughing at me, 
 
 I laugh with them — and I die !
 
 62 
 
 IDEM. 
 
 HOW canst thou lie sleeping so calmly, 
 And know that I still am alive? 
 My old passion returns, and the fetters 
 That hold me from thee will I rive ! 
 
 Dost thou not remember the legend, 
 How once a deceased lover-knave 
 
 Came at midnight to visit the loved one, 
 And fetch'd her away to his grave ? 
 
 Oh, believe me, my dearest and fairest. 
 Dearest love, fair asleep on thy bed, 
 
 I live, and am ten times as strong as 
 Twice ten lover-knaves that are dead !
 
 63 
 
 IDEM. 
 
 TO him, who much possesseth, shall be 
 Added more without delay ; 
 From him, who little hath, that little 
 Shall be shortly ta'en away. 
 
 But supposing thou hast nothing — 
 Go, get thee gone into thy grave I 
 
 And know, O fool, that right of hving 
 Those only have who something have.
 
 64 
 
 FRAGMENT. 
 
 AN INVOCATION. 
 
 COME then, Celestial Power, whate'er thou art, 
 Sole, secret Mover of the poet's heart ! 
 Pervade, great Spirit thou ! my every sense, 
 Rain on me thy selectest influence ! 
 I feel, I feel thy magic touch apply. 
 And my soul bounds elated, as on high 
 Springs the freed bird from her captivity. 
 Bear me aloft, thou Muse to whom 'tis given 
 To tread the star-paved palaces of heaven ; 
 Nerve my young wing, instruct me how to rise, 
 Seize all my thought, and lift me to the skies I
 
 65 
 
 TO OLIVIA. 
 
 WHEN thy fair eyes upon me dwell, 
 A fever racks me, heart and brain ; 
 I win the light I love too well, 
 I sit in torture with my gain ! 
 
 When thy fair eyes are turn'd away, 
 Meek as the blind, ray hands I cross ; 
 
 I lose a light more dear than day, 
 I sit in stillness with my loss I 
 
 When thy fair eyes are closed, I find 
 In their eclipse both loss and gain : 
 
 Open, they look so sweetly kind. 
 Closed, they inflict no cruel pain !
 
 66 
 
 MAUDE. 
 
 I FOLDED my sweet little Maude in my arms, 
 And fondly I kissed and caressed her ; 
 I gazed with delight on her manifold charms, 
 And close to my true heart I prest her ; 
 
 And lo I of a sudden she sprung from her place 
 With a shriek, and ere I could spring after. 
 
 She folded her lily-white hands o'er her face, 
 And sobbed with hysterical laughter. 
 
 I fondled and soothed her and coaxed her in vain. 
 
 In vain I upbraided and scolded ; 
 Then whisp'ring I woo'd her to tell me her pain, 
 
 And her lily-white hands I unfolded : 
 
 And wept when I saw that the tears she had shed 
 All o'er her sweet countenance trickled ; 
 
 And laughed when at last, all in anger, she said 
 " You knoiv I can't bear to be tickled I "
 
 67 
 
 A CHORAL ODE. 
 
 TO A CHILD. 
 
 SMOOTH and pleasant be the way I 
 And the hghtly flying Hours 
 Strew your onward path with flowers, 
 As along Life's vale you stray ! 
 
 But the thorns fall with the roses, 
 Which your footsteps shall perplex : 
 Nature thus her gifts disposes : 
 Part to pamper, part to vex ! 
 Shall the smooth and glassy Ocean 
 Sleep for ever, lulled in rest ? 
 Shall the Passion's roused emotion 
 Never shake the human breast ? 
 But the thunder-clouds are shattered, 
 And the Tempest dies away ; 
 When the nightly glooms are scattered, 
 Sweetly dawns the happier day ! 
 Through Adversity and Sorrow, 
 Dawns the prosperous season bright : 
 And, we know, the blessed Morrow 
 Breaks upon the blackest night !
 
 68 A Choral Ode. 
 
 Thou, with gentle resignation, 
 Bow to Heaven's each wise decree: 
 There shall follow Compensation, 
 Large thy recompense shall be I 
 Go ! by every joy attended 
 Which the human breast may know, 
 And our hopes and wishes blended 
 Follow wheresoe'er you go !
 
 69 
 
 AGNES. 
 
 I heard her sing, 
 
 " T AM forlorn, forlorn, 
 J- " The golden links are broken, 
 " And even the frailest token 
 " Of Love from me is torn ! 
 
 *' The slanderous asp, drawing near, 
 
 " Dropped venomous words in his ear, 
 
 " And my false love believed ! 
 
 " Oh 1 love, thou art deceived ! 
 
 " Ah ! come thou back, restore my bliss, 
 
 " My heart for thee beats ever true, 
 
 " But like a flower which thirsts for dew, 
 
 " It withers for want of thy kiss ! 
 
 " I followed him early, I followed him late, 
 " I uttered low plaint and he answered with hate, 
 " And, turning upon me, (ah ! vainly I strove !) 
 " He forced from my finger the pledge of his love, 
 " And cursed me and left me alone on the shore ; 
 " And he came not again, and he comelh no more : 
 
 " But I am left forlorn, forlorn, 
 
 " The golden links are broken, 
 
 " And even the frailest token 
 
 " Of Love from me is torn !"
 
 70 Agnes. 
 
 Twelve Moons had rolled : I passed the self-same 
 
 way, 
 She sang : 
 
 " With sleekest speech, with saint-like smile, 
 
 "He woo"d this simple heart too well ! 
 
 " By his bland lips beguiled, alas I 
 
 " I loved him, and I fell ! 
 
 " Forlorn and lost, in nameless pain, 
 
 " By Mis'ry taught, I know thee now : 
 
 " Traitor ! flee me — flee in vain ! 
 
 " My curse hath crossed thy brow."
 
 71 
 
 NECESSITY. 
 
 IF Love all vigilant, my lost Kathleen ! 
 (Love that around thee ever watched, unseen,) 
 Might from its course Death's cruel javelin turn, — 
 Thou hadst not novv slept silent in thy shroud ! 
 I had not wept upon thy holy urn ! 
 But from on high proceeds the dread command, 
 And dire Necessity, with equal hand. 
 Slow as She moves, dispassionate and stern, 
 Alike unto the Gentle and the Proud, 
 Scatters the lot from her capacious urn I
 
 72 
 
 THE DIRGE. 
 
 KATHLEEN sleeps silent on her lowly bed, 
 Fair by the stream that laves her native hill : 
 She sleeps — and nightly on her sacred head 
 The dews of Heaven their sweetest tears distil ; 
 And, morn by morn, the rosy-bosomed hours. 
 To flood the world with light. 
 Lead up their King upon his chariot bright. 
 And wake the warbling birds and odorous flowers. 
 But her no more they wake ! — though gladder none 
 Was wont to view the cheek of Morning rosed, 
 And gaze the glories of the risen Sun ! 
 In vain, alas ! the tears of Evening fall. 
 In vain the early breezes, as they sweep 
 Through the dark woodland, sigh, and from the spray. 
 Trilling their matins sweet, the wild bird's call ! 
 For she no more upon the dawning Day, 
 Listening their joyous lay. 
 Shall bend her wistful eyes for ever closed : 
 Closed in the night of Death's long slumber deep, 
 But Angels wake to guard her dreamless sleep ! 
 
 Refrain then, Muse ! refrain, sad soul, to weep. 
 And to the vales no more, in dirges drear,
 
 The Dirge. 73 
 
 Lament Kathleen laid low !— She doth but sleep, 
 Stretched though she be upon her sable bier ! 
 So on her couch the Hebrew maiden lay, 
 Nor spoke, nor stirred, nor drew the lightest breath. 
 Till the mild voice of Him who conquered Death 
 Oped the shut portals of her sullen ear, 
 And on her full orbs gushed the shining day : 
 So to the glories of ineiFable Light, 
 She, who now sleeps in shades of thickest night. 
 Anon shall lift her Heaven-directed eyes ; 
 Waked by the voice of Him who from afar 
 Summons His angels home, she shall arise, 
 And mount aloft, and through the riven skies 
 Soar to the City of the Morning-star !
 
 74 
 
 THE COMPLAINT. 
 
 WING, sacred Hours I wing swift your arrowy 
 flight 
 From highest Heaven's unnamed, eternal throne, 
 And, through the silence of the vast Unknown, 
 Sweep the dark Future into present light ! 
 Ye ! who now reach your goal, and to the world. 
 Bearing new destinies, will brief appear, 
 I, watchful of your advent, seem to hear 
 The rustling of your rapid wings unfurled ; 
 Come, with the measure of his Fate to each ! 
 To one ye bear a blessing, and the breath 
 Of Life : to one the bane of bitter Death : 
 Ye bring the dying — dead December's bier, 
 For lo ! with January you are here, 
 And in your bosom lies the baby-year I 
 
 Kathleen ! — (a ceaseless dirge I sing !) — 
 Kathleen, thy seraph soul doth know 
 The New-year to my heart can bring 
 No comfort — only lengthened woe ! 
 Unless from earth it set my Spirit free, 
 ^'^oid of thy Life it comes, and, void of Thre, 
 It may not mend the change thy loss hath wrought.
 
 The Complaint. 75 
 
 Nor from my fancy chase this bitter thought, — 
 
 That I no more, in this my black ecHpse, 
 
 Shall see thee, hear thy voice, for ever mute I 
 
 Touch the rare riches of thy fragrant lips, 
 
 Nor even view their fair, forbidden fruit. 
 
 And contemplate the kiss I dare not cull ! 
 
 Oh ! World, shorn of thy lustre, dark and dull, 
 
 Dark grave, dull dungeon, dull, dark pit that holds 
 
 Me living, and entombs my dead desires. 
 
 What hateful thought thy sight abhorred inspires ! 
 
 For ever unto me, left desolate here. 
 
 The mute, stoled hours a funeral march will lead. 
 
 Day unto day, and month to month succeed. 
 
 Bearing my dead Life forwards on a bier : 
 
 Void of all change of motion or of speed. 
 
 Through all the seasons of the joyless year ! 
 
 Blow then, ye vernal breezes, and once more 
 
 Free the chilled Earth (less cold, less dead than II) 
 
 From lifeless apathy ; 
 
 Come, Spring ! the plains and valleys to restore 
 
 To beauty : touch them with thy blessed feet I 
 
 While fair beneath thy smile the smitten flowers 
 
 (As erst my heart beneath a smile more sweet I) 
 
 Break into blossom round about thy bowers I 
 
 The air breathes love ! the birds low carols sing, 
 
 In amorous pairs, on every happy spray! 
 
 Ah me 1 they serve, they only serve to sting 
 
 My heart with memory of those vernal hours.
 
 76 The Complaint. 
 
 When, plighting troth, we were as blest as they; 
 The nightingale loud trills his passionate lay I 
 Not wilder notes he sings than once I sung, 
 When loud and free, inspired by eager Love, 
 Thy name I chaunted through the merry grove. 
 And to thy praises all the woodland rung ! 
 Annual to him his vernal note returns. 
 To woo a fresh mate under fresher skies, 
 But never more to these dull lips shall rise 
 The notes of my first passion, and my last ! 
 Flown is my mate : my latest spring-tide past : 
 And past the voice of my once tender strains, 
 W^hile in my heart eternal Winter reigns !
 
 77 
 
 THE SIMILE. 
 
 LO ! in the fickle North fair blooms the Year ! 
 Sweet as Kathleen's its summer smiles appear : 
 Ev'n in its prime, rude-nipped by Winter's breath, 
 Falls, like Kathleen, into the arms of Death ! 
 On the fresh corpse the pitying skies bestow, 
 To veil the cold, cold limbs, a pall of snow : 
 Frost binds it in his adamantine chains, 
 And the bleak blast sweeps howling o'er the plains ! 
 But soon the Sun with kindlier aspect beams. 
 The birds bid Spring awaken from her dreams, 
 O'er all the Land the mild infection creeps, 
 Morn sheds her tears : the rill, dissolving, weeps : 
 May strews the fields with many a floweret fair, 
 Ambrosial odours scent the genial air : 
 From every charm the girdle is unbound * 
 And Nature reigns by naked beauty crowned I 
 So, from Death's wintry fangs Kathleen set free. 
 Springs from the tomb to Immortality ! 
 
 * Von jedem Reiz der Giirtel ist gelost, 
 Und alles schone zeigt sich mir entblost. 
 
 SCHILLEB.
 
 78 
 
 H 
 
 THE EPITAPH. 
 
 ERE lies my lost Kathleen ! — a sinless name, 
 Too pure to pass the braggart lips of Fame I
 
 THE LAY OF BRAGI.
 
 80 
 
 NOTE. 
 
 BRAGI is the God of Poetry ; the Apollo of the 
 Scandinavian Mythology. In the following poem 
 he i.- introduced singing " the Death of Baldur." 
 
 Baldur (the son of Odin, and the deified idea of Virtue 
 and of Love) dreams that he shall die by an instrument of 
 Nature. But the Gods of Walhalla impose an oath on 
 all things in Heaven and upon Earth, which binds them 
 never to injure his sacred person. AU things are pledged, 
 save only the sprouting Mistletoe, which Hertha (the 
 spouse of Odin, and Mother to Baldur) hath contempt- 
 uously passed by. Lok (the Evil-Spirit) shapes it into a 
 dart, and with subtle speech persuades Hoder (brother to 
 Baldur) to hurl the fatal weapon, and to effect the death 
 of the most beloved among the Gods of Asgard. 
 
 The Myth of Baldur (says the Swedish Historian) 
 represents the general dissolution of all things, as a con- 
 sequence of the first God's death — the Death of Virtue 
 and of Loveliness in the world.
 
 81 
 
 THE LAY OF BRAGI. 
 
 I. 
 
 MY heart is sad, with heaviest care opprest, 
 My ardent soul is quenched by Sorrow now, 
 The life-spark glimmers feebly in my breast, 
 The dews of Death are gathering on my brow ; — 
 Yet come ray Harp — too long neglected. Thou ! 
 Whose voice hath soothed me many a time before : 
 What ! though my touch no longer can endow 
 The song with Inspiration I — yet once more 
 I would into thy own my soul's deep anguish pour. 
 
 ir. 
 
 Here let me sit amongst sequestered bowers 
 And, unmolested, tune my passionate lay ; ^ 
 Here, in these wilds where Solitude with flowers 
 Twines votive garlands for the brow of May ; 
 To Her will I complain the livelong day, 
 Until she hearken to the boon I crave, 
 And those sweet wreaths, she twines so fresh and 
 
 gay. 
 
 Shall be transferred from Beauty to the Brave, 
 And offerings culled for Spring shall hang on Bal- 
 dur's grave.
 
 82 The La\ of Bragi. 
 
 III. 
 
 The Warblers of the grove shall list my soug, 
 Nor strive to imitate the plaintive tone ; 
 Silent they sit, a melancholy throng ! 
 To mourn a voice more joyous than their own : 
 Ah ! not the music of his voice alone 
 But his sweet melody of Thought, which fed 
 Our minds with purest harmony, is flown : 
 Love, Hope, and Truth, and Charity lie dead — 
 The stream will cease to flow when dry the fountain- 
 head. 
 
 IV. 
 
 No more Walhalla's thousand joys beguile 
 
 The flagging hours, nor cheat the soul with bliss : 
 
 The very Land, dismantled of her smile. 
 
 Lies dark and cold, in her great heaviness : 
 
 Even as the setting Sun is wont to dress 
 
 The cloud in borrowed radiance, which must die 
 
 When he withdraws — so Baldur's lovehness 
 
 Did beautify our Home, which now doth lie 
 
 A drear and desolate spot upon the darkened sky !
 
 The Lay of Bragi. 83 
 
 He stole upon my senses like a Dream 
 Peopled with happy thoughts — serene and mild ! 
 More beautiful a vision ne'er, I deem, 
 Lit the touched features of the slumbering' child ! 
 Then — the vexed waking, strange, confused and 
 
 vfild — 
 Harsh voices grating on the startled ear : 
 Lo ! the fair image all in ruins piled, 
 Which never more its beauteous form may rear, 
 But Memory yet shall bid the mimic show appear. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Once more, once more, he steals upon my sight, 
 
 But faint and indistinct the vision glows. 
 
 Like new-born Spring which creeps into the light 
 
 But half-revealed — an undeveloped rose : 
 
 More palpable the form of Beauty grows. 
 
 The winds have caught the cloud which o'er him 
 
 lowers. 
 The mists dissolving all his charms disclose : 
 He comes. He comes along the vale — the flowers 
 Beneath his footsteps spring, and grace the happy 
 
 bowers.
 
 84 The Lay of Bragi. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Even so in life he walked blest Asgard's grove, 
 A gentle Being, magically fair, 
 And little deemed the fatal Sisters wove 
 For him the meshy web of black despair ; 
 But in his slumbers, through the midnight air, 
 Dread Hela's * voice struck wildly on his ear, 
 And storms swept past, until his troubled hair 
 Stirred with his dreams, and his frame shook with 
 
 fear, 
 As through the gloom was borne his own-blood- 
 spotted bier. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Then soon, where raised upon his glittering throne 
 Great Odin sits beneath the roof of gold. 
 Beside the sire reclined the gentle son, 
 And in a soft lament his vision told ; — 
 Uprose the King of Gods, and frantic rolled 
 The glowing orbs of his majestic eyes. 
 As with a mighty voice he bade unfold 
 Walhalla's doors, and summoned all the skies, 
 In general synod met, their counsel to advise. 
 
 * Hela, the Goddess of Death.
 
 The Lay of Bragi. 85 
 
 IX. 
 
 And thus did they decree — " In every sphere 
 All Nature, Nature animate and dead, 
 Shall swear an oath our Baldur to revere, 
 And guard the sacred honours of his head." 
 Then far and wide the Gods immediate fled 
 From all Creation to exact the vow, 
 And to her realm of Earth fair Hertha sped, 
 She came — she paused — a smile unbent her 
 
 brow : 
 So passed she on and left unpledged the fatal 
 
 bough ! 
 
 X. 
 
 The hawk's glance keenly sweeps along the sky : 
 Perchance the bramble screens the wily snake : 
 But through all space pierces the Evil eye, 
 And crafty Malice lurks 'neath every brake — 
 Lok, from his covert ambush, stole to take 
 The leafy prize, while she her Heavenly flight, 
 Unconscious, winged — and sought him for whose 
 
 sake 
 She left her home : cheered by the hopeful sight, 
 He, happy, smiled, and all forgot the dreams of 
 
 night.
 
 86 The Lay of Bragi. 
 
 XI. 
 
 Oh ! blest Forgetfulness ! the passions swoon, 
 And fret no more the heart possessed by thee, 
 Thou, like a cloud spreading athwart the noon, 
 Veilest the burning sun of Memory ; 
 And on the heart which droopeth heavily 
 (Welcome as Evening to the sun-parched rose) 
 Sheddest the dews of soothing Melancholy, 
 Till, wrapped in sweet oblivion of all woes, 
 It rests beneath thy shadow in profound repose. 
 
 XII. 
 
 The Shepherd sleeps beneath the branching tree. 
 While upon high the storm is gathering ; 
 The bird pours forth its carol blithe and free, 
 While o'er its head the hawk is hovering ; 
 From Baldur's breast Terror had taken wing. 
 The memories of his dream had died away, 
 And Peace arose, upon his path to fling 
 Her thousand sweets, all redolent of May — 
 Then burst the storm: then stooped the treacherous 
 bird of prey I
 
 The Lay of Bragi. 87 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Thou cursed and envious Spirit ! — Oh how foul 
 Smells the rank deed by treacherous Malice done I 
 " The falcon hawked at by the mousing owl," 
 Virtue by Vice hurled headlong from her throne ! 
 Now to the rocks fast-fettered thou dost groan, 
 While the fell snake distils his venom slow : 
 Thus for thy damning crimes shalt thou atone, 
 Who urged a brother's hand to deal the blow 
 Which crushed the voice of Truth, and laid Love's 
 image low. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 I stood beside his gentle corse, and wept : 
 The amorous wind was stirring round his head, 
 And o'er his brow and lifeless features crept, 
 As seeking for the Spirit which had fled I 
 Then heard I a soft voice * which moaned and said, 
 " Virtue hath fallen from the desolate sky ! 
 " The wise, the good, the beautiful is dead I 
 " Life bound us in one common bond — Oh why 
 " Should Death tear us asunder? — with him let 
 me die ! " 
 
 * Nanna, the spouse of Baldur, perished broken-hearted 
 at his death.
 
 88 The Lay of Bragi. 
 
 XV. 
 
 She pressed his bloodless lips unto her own, 
 She brooked few words of solace or relief, 
 But with an ever low, continuous moan. 
 O'er her dead hopes she poured the dirge of grief : 
 And her frame quivered like an aspen-leaf 
 Ere the wind shiver it from oif the spray : 
 And lo ! a little while — such pangs are brief — 
 By the snapped rose, the broken lily lay : 
 Twined in the arms of Death, how beautiful were 
 they! 
 
 xvr. 
 
 The stars of Heaven had faded from their place. 
 None left of all the many twinkling throng ! 
 The pale Morn hid her melancholy face. 
 No more did beauty to the Night belong ; 
 The Nightingale forgot to tune her song, 
 Hushed were the waters of the billowy Ocean, 
 And, as the hours crept noiselessly along. 
 Silence whose eloquence, in mute devotion, 
 Transcends the voice of grief, spake Nature's deep 
 emotion.
 
 The Lay of Bragi. 89 
 
 xvir. 
 
 Great Nature, inconsolable, laments : 
 
 And like some maiden whose dishevelled hair. 
 
 In her great grief, sweeps o'er her lineaments. 
 
 Her loveliness is veiled in her despair ; 
 
 Yet vainly doth she weep, since nought may tear 
 
 Our Baldur from dread Mistheim's * fetid womb. 
 
 Till Time, progressive, all things shall prepare. 
 
 And God, the Everlasting, through the gloom 
 
 Shall lift his voice and speak the universal doom. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 Behold ! even now 'tis here — round Hydrazil f 
 The winds lie stagnant, yet its branches wave : 
 The portents are displayed, all things fulfil 
 Their end — ere long we drop into the grave ; 
 My song hath ceased, yet this last boon I crave, 
 Since Baldur lives % when I no more shall be, 
 May the kind echoes of some listening cave. 
 Surviving, say, " His latest melody 
 " Was dedicate to Love, to Virtue, and to Thee ! ' 
 
 * The abode of the Goddess of Death. 
 
 f The great Ash-tree on which the world was huno-. 
 
 X He was to rise and reign in Gimli, the new Heaven. 
 
 M
 
 90 The Lay of Bragi. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 'Tis done — all Nature groans and cries, 'tis done I 
 The trumpet sounds, the signal peal is given : 
 Marred at one potent stroke, the glorious Sun 
 Shapeless and black and blasted falls from Heaven ; 
 Athwart the gloom the storms of Hel are driven, 
 The Royal eagle* screams in his distress: 
 The flames leap up, the seared skies are riven. 
 The fiery serpents all around me hiss. 
 The Gulf yawns wide — I sink through the immense 
 abyss ! 
 
 * The Royal Eagle, which perched upon the throne of 
 Odin. 
 
 3t
 
 91 
 
 Epilogue. 
 
 Entranced, I heard this song; with sudden shock 
 I woke, and saw the Moon's pale, placid beam 
 Looking upon me, as it were to mock 
 The turbulence of thought that closed my dream ; 
 And long I pondered on the stirring theme, 
 The fabric of an idol-faith forsooth I 
 Yet fanciful and lofty : nay, I deem, 
 Albeit Error heaped with hand uncouth 
 The shapeless Pile, She built upon the rock of 
 Truth. 
 
 Virtue's sweet voice attunes the human soul, 
 Like a stringed lyre, to exquisite melody : 
 Her voice, where Life's tempestuous waters roll, 
 Whispers from Heaven to still the raging sea ; 
 Shall then her Music fail ? oh, can it be ! 
 Heaven-born and Heaven-directed, She we know, 
 Her task fulfilled, shall wing by God's decree 
 Her Heavenly flight, and leave the world below. 
 No more by Her illumed, to darkness and to woe I
 
 92 Epilogue. 
 
 She to her Father's bosom shall return, 
 And, when at last the mighty Trump doth sound, 
 There, like a star, immortal will she burn, 
 The beauty of her radiance raying round; 
 Where Faith shrinks back, Error o'erleaps the 
 
 bound 
 Of human prescience fixed by God's just laws, 
 And many a joy, with boldest license crowned, 
 She from Imagination vainly draws 
 To picture Heaven. Frail Fancy ! know thyself — 
 and pause !
 
 JERUSALEM.
 
 95 
 
 JERUSALEM. 
 
 o 
 
 I. 
 
 H I might that Muse which taught the 
 
 Prophet-King, 
 In days of yore, to wake the ecstatic lyre 
 For thee, O Salem, move me while I sing ; 
 My mortal lips touch with immortal fire, 
 And in fit strains the solemn theme inspire ! — 
 It may not be. To such high majesty 
 Of song, oh I never more shall man aspire ; 
 For she hath fled — (who taught that minstrelsy, 
 Subliraest Muse !) — hath fled back to her native sky.
 
 96 Jerusalem. 
 
 II. 
 
 A wanderer from Heaven's seraphic throng, 
 She came — mstructress of God's perfect Will ; 
 Forth from her lips outburst th' immortal song, 
 Which distance weakens not, nor Time shall still : 
 Valley to valley answers, hill to hill 
 Responsive echoes — with the rolling years 
 Growing, that mighty voice all space shall fill ; 
 Heard latest, when, descending through the 
 spheres, 
 With multitude of sound, the Lord of Hosts appears. 
 
 III. 
 
 Such strains to hymn, no more to man is given, 
 Past those bright glories of the Poet's art ! 
 But still (great boon of all-indulgent Heaven) 
 To ease the burthen of Life's grievous part, 
 The Muse's spirit in the human heart 
 ( Absorbing its humanity) still dwells ; 
 Strange beauty to man's Being she doth impart, 
 And, where so much deters, him most impels 
 To draw th' inspiring draught from Truth's eternal 
 wells.
 
 Jerusalem. 9/ 
 
 IV. 
 
 So come, best loved 1 (thyself enamoured most 
 Of all things holy, beautiful, and good), 
 Thou guide and teacher, of whose care I boast. 
 Come, in thy wisely-meditative mood. 
 Approach and visit my heart's solitude I 
 Oh, lift my thoughts from this dull earth below ; 
 Each gross idea from my mind exclude, 
 And, as I ponder o'er Judaea's woe, 
 Teach me in all Heaven's works its providence to 
 know. 
 
 Favoured of Heaven, once Israel's chosen band 
 Its Laws observed, and all its mercies knew ; 
 Fair spread the Vine by God's own bounteous 
 
 Hand, 
 Planted, and reared, and fed with heavenly dew ; 
 Green o'er the branch the clustering foliage grew, 
 The vigorous stem put forth the tender shoot ; 
 But, when the stately growth was fair to view. 
 The Lord, in wrath, beheld th' ungenerous fruit, 
 And from the living soil uptare the thankless root. 
 
 N
 
 93 Jerusalem. 
 
 VI. 
 
 But first how oft forbore! th' avenging rod 
 How oft restraining through unnumbered years! 
 Vv'hile Israel still defied the living God, 
 His word despised and mocked his holy Seers ; 
 At first he fed them with the bread of tears, 
 And ministered a cup of deadly wine ; 
 But when His Son's death-cry smote on His ears, 
 Then did He break the hedge around His Vine, 
 And to the Gentile's wrath His pleasant plant re- 
 sign. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Fair rose the Sun above Judaea's hills, 
 And all the heights were stained with purple day ; 
 No sound was heard save of the warbling rills, 
 Or birds which piped their matins from the spray; 
 And bathed in light the tranquil city lay. 
 Even as a child which sleeps a happy sleep, 
 While the fell eagles, hovering o'er their prey, 
 In eddying circles round its cradle sweep- 
 So seemed th' unconscious City lapped in slumber 
 deep!
 
 Jerusalem. 99 
 
 vnr. 
 
 And in the solitude of that sweet hour, 
 When all the plains, with Morning's tears be- 
 dewed, 
 Smiled peacefully, and Nature's mystic power 
 Informed with stillness mountain, vale, and wood : 
 On Olivet alone the Roman stood. 
 Touched was his soul, as fair beneath outspread 
 Salem in passive loveliness he viewed ; 
 In silent rapture long his thought he fed 
 On that bright spectacle — then spake at length, and 
 said : 
 
 IX. 
 
 " Thou glorious City ! Though Caesar's heart 
 be cold — 
 " (Schooled by severe Philosophy to still 
 " All passion) — not unmoved doth he behold 
 " The beauty of thy vale-encircled hill ! 
 " Ah, fear not ! He, his mission to fulfil, 
 " Judaea's factious people shall enthral, 
 " And bind obedience to Rome's sovran will: 
 " But, hear it heaven, all-judging Jove I call. 
 " Never by Caesar's hand shall yon fair City fall I "
 
 H^O Jerusalem. 
 
 X. 
 
 The lightning of God's Word hath clov'n the 
 heaven, 
 The thunder of His wrath is muttering low. 
 And who, when the everlasting vault is riven 
 And cloud to cloud reflects the livid glow, 
 Shall ward the bolt of vengeance from the foe? — 
 Vain man, and impotent, ^tis not for thee 
 To spare what God hath destined to o'erthrow ; 
 Nor, should the Lord revoke His just decree. 
 Could all thy might achieve Judah's captivity : 
 
 XI. 
 
 Soon should that hand which 'whelmed th' 
 Egyptian's pride, 
 Fell'd the Philistine, and th' Assyrians slew. 
 Forth stretching sweep thy vaunted power aside, 
 And Rome her legionary host should view, 
 Scattered like leaves which roaring tempests 
 
 strew. 
 But Salem's doom is fixed — nor thou recoil 
 From that which Heaven appointeth thee to do ; 
 'Tis thine to fire, to ravage, and despoil : 
 
 Be mercy then forgot, — move, Roman, to thy toil. 
 
 ***** 
 
 *****
 
 Jerusalem. 101 
 
 XII. 
 
 Lo ! Darkness reigns — no solitary star 
 Pierces with feeble ray the horrent gloom ; 
 The watch-fires, gleaming on white tents afar, 
 Flit, in the gust, like spirits o'er a tomb ; 
 And Night with Silence, childlike, in her womb 
 Broods above Sion. Hark I a sudden cry 
 Rends heaven — a marvellous glory doth illume 
 The flaming firmament, and from the sky 
 Come shrieks of death and woe, with shouts of 
 victory. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Behold ! the glowing clouds are riv'n asunder, 
 And backward roll in waves of surofinsr liarht. 
 And as the chasm yawns wide, with sound of 
 
 thunder. 
 Unearthly warriors, blent in fiercest fight 
 Round mighty cities, burst upon the sight — 
 A moment, and 'tis gone ; but from below 
 A cry springs upwards through the gloom of 
 
 night : 
 " On every side the warning voices grow, 
 " Woe to Jerusalem, to all her people woe ! "
 
 102 Jerusalem. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 Look up, sad City ! often on thy ears 
 The woe-prophetic song hath fall'n in vain ; 
 It boots not now to hsten — through thy tears, 
 Lift thy wan eyes and view thy ravaged plain ; 
 Oh, loveHest once I behold with many a stain 
 How have they spoiled the beauty of thy pride I 
 Prophetic now no more the woeful strain. 
 For now, even now, the Gentiles, circling wide, 
 " Compass thee round, and close thee in on every 
 side." 
 
 XV. 
 
 But though, without, thou view'st the Legions 
 close, 
 More fearful sight thine eyes reversed survey : 
 Murder and Famine (these thy deadliest foes) 
 Howl through thy streets, contending for the prey, 
 And Pestilence still meets them on the way ; 
 There, melancholy Madness droops alone : 
 Here, Frenzy prompts th' unnatural hand to slay. 
 While even the Mother's heart is turned to stone : 
 And black Despair and Death reign on one com- 
 mon throne.
 
 Jerusalem. 103 
 
 XVI. 
 
 And all the air echoes discordant yells, 
 The tyrant's cursing, or the sufferer's shriek ; — 
 But hark ! what sound ! — a solemn thunder swells 
 Within the Temple — Angel voices speak ! 
 The multitude look up, blanched every cheek ! 
 A fearful hope lives in each fluttering heart, 
 ' God comes His vengeance on the foe to wreak.' 
 Untouched, the glowing gates asunder start, 
 And, issuing forth with light, a cry — " Let us de- 
 part I " 
 
 XVII. 
 
 He (whom the Heaven of Heavens might not 
 contain) 
 Who dwelt in Sion, hath gone up on high ; 
 Shall heathen gods his Holy House profane ? 
 
 " Save, save the Temple ! " Lo ! unto that cry 
 
 Forth leap the flames in fearful mockery ; 
 In one vast blaze they lap the fabric round, 
 And with fork'd tongues ascend the fiery sky ; 
 All heaven and earth a mighty crash resound, 
 And dread Jehovah's fane lies level with the 
 ground I
 
 104 Jerusalem. 
 
 xviir. 
 
 'Tis done. Where once triumphantly she 
 stood, 
 Lo ! ruined Salem lies, a smouldering heap ; 
 " On us and on our children rest His blood ! " 
 There, by her side, her gore-stained children 
 
 sleep, 
 Or, captives, o'er her ashes wail and weep. 
 But, ever mindful of His own, the Lord 
 Amidst the faithless knew his faithful sheep. 
 Revealed in Heaven the starry flaming sword. 
 And led His chosen forth to spread th' Eternal 
 Word. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 But come thou forth, whose terror-dealinsr hand 
 Hath spread this ravage o'er the wasted plain ; 
 How art thou mocked! — the desolatino- brand. 
 Kindling the flames which thou might'st not re- 
 strain. 
 Hath balked thee of thy prize and rendered vain 
 The doubtful pity of thy stoic breast ; 
 Yea ! the vast ruins of that mighty fane 
 (Which Heaven from thy reluctant grasp did 
 wrest) 
 Thine impotence of will, and not thy power, attest.
 
 Jerusalem. lo; 
 
 XX. 
 
 Go thou to Rome to lead thy ghttering show, 
 Let Pomp and Pageantry thy deeds requite I 
 Eternal Rome !— Ah ! little dost thou know 
 How brief her Glory and how frail her Mio-ht ' 
 The Lord on high hath spoken ;— In His sight, 
 As fade nocturnal visions from the eyes. 
 Shall all her foes dissolve in endless nio-ht • 
 While, from the dust, Jerusalem shall rise 
 To flood with holiest Light the new-created skies ! 
 
 o
 
 107 
 
 THE POET'S PETITION. 
 
 KIND Public ! read me twice or thrice, 
 And gently treat a timid Muse : 
 Stern Critics I read me once or twice, 
 Nor let me miss my wretched dues ! 
 Fair Phoebe, read me fifty times ! 
 Peruse and reperuse my rhymes : 
 Thy blame or praise I will repay 
 With interest, — such as kisses may I 
 But Lizzy ! lest thy frown should fall 
 Upon me, read me not at all ! 
 All else beside may hiss and jeer, 
 But blame from thee I dare not hear !
 
 108 
 
 AD MATREM. 
 
 IF those dear eyes that watch me now, 
 With looks that teach my heart content : 
 That smile which o'er thy placid brow 
 Spreads, with Delight in pure concent : 
 And that clear voice whose rise and fall 
 Alternates, in a silver chime : 
 If these fair tokens false were all 
 That told the tale of fleeting Time — 
 I scarce should mark his swift career, 
 So little change hath o'er thee passed, 
 So much thy Present doth appear 
 Like all my Memory holds most dear. 
 When she recalls thy perfect Past ! 
 Unchanged thou seem'st in mind and frame 
 Thy sweet smile brightens still the same : 
 In thy fair face is nothing strange ; 
 And when from out thy pure lips flow 
 Thy earnest words with grace, I know 
 Thy Wisdom hath not sufi"ered change ! 
 And so thy Presence, bland and glad. 
 Wherein no trace of change appears, 
 Proclaims not that this day will add 
 A fresh sheaf to thy garnered years I 
 But Time himself proclaims his power,
 
 Ad MatrExM. 109 
 
 And will not pass unheeded by : 
 
 At every turn his ruins lie, 
 
 I track his steps at every door ; 
 
 Or, musing with myself, I find 
 
 His signet borne by every thought, 
 
 From many a moral blemish wrought 
 
 By more of commerce with my kind ; 
 
 Who am not armed, as thou in youth, 
 
 To bear unhurt the brunt of Life, 
 
 To battle with the foes of Truth, 
 
 And issue scarless from the strife ; 
 
 Not pure, as thou, to pass unscared, 
 
 Where Knaves and Fools infest the ways, 
 
 By their rank censure unimpaired, 
 And spotless from their ranker praise. 
 And thus the slow year, circling round, 
 Mars with no change thy soul serene, 
 W^hile I, though changed, alas ! am found 
 Far other than I should have been, 
 And only not at heart unsound. 
 Because thy love still keeps it green ; 
 Oh ! therefore, from that worst decay 
 To save me with Love's holiest dew, 
 Heaven guard thee, dear ! and oft renew 
 Return of this thy natal day : 
 And teach me, with each rolling year 
 That leaves us on a heartless Earth, 
 To love thee so, that Love may bear
 
 110 Ad Matrem. 
 
 Fruits worthier of thy perfect worth ; 
 And so, whatever ills betide, 
 Whatever storms about me lour. 
 Though broken by the bolts of Pride, 
 And scorched by Envy's lightning power, 
 I shall not perish in the blast. 
 But prosper while thou still art nigh. 
 By my pure love preserved, and by 
 My guardian Spirit saved at last. 
 
 FINIS. 
 
 C. WUITTINGUAM, TOOKS COLKT, CUANCERY LANE.
 
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