UC-NRLF 
 
 SB 
 
 DES 
 
 S 
 
 55 
 
BERKELEY 
 
 LIBF ' RY 
 
 UNIVf 
 CAU.ORNIA 
 
A VISION OF ENGLAND 
 
 AND OTHER POEMS 
 
A VISION OF ENGLAND 
 
 AND OTHER POEMS 
 
 BY 
 
 JOHN RICKARDS MOZLEY 
 
 LONDON 
 RICHARD BENTLEY AND SON 
 
 publishers in ODrbmarg to %}tx Jttajestg the OQueen 
 1898 
 
 [All rights reserved] 
 
LOAN STACK 
 
3 
 ; 
 
 TO 
 
 SIR WALTER JOSEPH SENDALL, 
 
 K.C.M.G., 
 WHO, ON BEHALF OF ENGLAND, 
 
 SO WORTHILY PRESIDES OVER THE ISLAND 
 OF CYPRUS, 
 
 A KIND FRIEND AND JUDICIOUS CRITIC, 
 
 THIS VOLUME IS DEDICATED 
 BY 
 
 THE AUTHOR. 
 
 119 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 TO THE QUEEN 
 
 A VISION OF ENGLAND - I 
 
 LOVE LOST AND REGAINED - 24 
 
 NATURE'S HARMONIES - - 41 
 
 A HARBOUR OF THE SOUTH - 43 
 
 IN THE NIGHT - - 45 
 
 A VISION OF DESIRE - 46 
 
 IN HOPE'S DELAY - 48 
 
 LOVE IN THE MARKET-PLACE - 50 
 
 HOPE IN PENITENCE - 52 
 
 THE FRAGMENT OF AN IDYLL - - 54 
 
 A DUET OF EMIGRANTS ON THE OCEAN - - 60 
 
 A DIALOGUE - 66 
 
 WHERE RIVER MEETS THE SEA - - 70 
 
 GOOD AND EVIL - - 72 
 
 DOUBT - - 73 
 
 TRUTHFULNESS - - 74 
 
 PATIENCE - 76 
 
 HAPPINESS - 77 
 
 A MAIDEN'S LAMENT - 78 
 
 NATURE AND SPIRIT - - - - 80 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 ON NEW YEAR'S EVE, 1887 - 82 
 
 A SONNET - 84 
 
 BONAMY PRICE - -85 
 
 AN ELEGY - 86 
 
 TO ALFRED MARSHALL - go 
 
 TO CHARLES HOPE CAY, WHO DIED YOUNG - QI 
 
 A TRIAD OF SONNETS - - 94 
 
 PARKGATE ON DEE SANDS - 97 
 
 A CHRISTMAS GREETING - - IOO 
 
 TO F. D. ON HER SIXTEENTH BIRTHDAY - 104 
 
 BY THE RAPIDS OF THE WYE, NEAR BUILTH - 105 
 
 RAPALLO - - I 06 
 
 TO MY GODSON - - 109 
 
 LETTER TO A FRIEND - IIO 
 
 A REPLY, ETC. - 114 
 
 THE EVE OF NASEBY - Il8 
 
 TO THE AFRIDIS - - 142 
 
TO THE QUEEN. 
 
 O THOU that hast been found a link of gold 
 
 Purged by the fire, to bind our scattered race ! 
 
 Thou that hast caught a ray from that pure face 
 Which saintly Louis bore in days of old ! 
 Thy sixty years of sovereignty, full told, 
 
 Have moved our hearts. Some sign, whereby 
 to trace 
 
 Our people's brotherhood, we need ; the grace 
 To thee was given, such worthy part to hold. 
 O when all signs and shadows flee before 
 
 The true heart-kingdom, which the Almighty Sire 
 Shall raise upon His Christ, and more and more 
 
 Fashion for rule with nobly-winged desire, 
 May thou and thine go through the open door 
 
 And hear 'Well done!' and join the heavenly 
 choir. 
 
A VISION OF ENGLAND. 
 
 FROM height to height the starry hosts ascend, 
 And gloriously from deep to deep are borne, 
 In number, as in marvel, without end. 
 Far, far, beyond the gates of night and morn 
 They reign divinely, and in strength unworn 
 Of love and life hold commune each with each ; 
 But we, alas ! in earthly shade forlorn, 
 Know not the manner of their heavenly speech, 
 And dimly read or guess the lesson they would 
 teach ; 
 
 For when our mother Earth of yore did sink 
 From fiery essence into sleep of stone, 
 Her dying pulses lost the heavenly link ; 
 And we, her late-born children, have not known 
 
2 A VISION OF ENGLAND 
 
 Those mystic harmonies, or held our own 
 Concord of purpose, but have gone astray 
 In jangling crowds or wildernesses lone ; 
 Yet is our gloom now lightened by a ray 
 Presaging strength restored and everlasting day. 
 
 Love has unsealed in man the fount of tears, 
 And with those tears a million thoughts arise, 
 Loosed from the bondage of unnumbered years, 
 And seek the kindred throbbings of the skies, 
 And move with prayer and penitential sighs 
 Unto that Power in whom all beings rest, 
 The Father of our spirits, who replies 
 With fire of comfort in the eternal quest, 
 And tunes each jarring chord within the strain- 
 ing breast. 
 
 Therefore the splendours born of heaven begin 
 To glow thro' our companionships of earth, 
 Which, fashioned into divers textures, win 
 Increase of lustre from their blended worth ; 
 The land, the people of our blood and birth, 
 
A VISION OF ENGLAND 3 
 
 The church beloved, high knowledge and fair 
 
 art, 
 
 Adventure wild, and sport of lighter mirth 
 These are an alchemy to melt the heart, 
 And lure the emulous soul to dare some nobler 
 
 part; 
 
 Yea, though these symbols of our brotherhood 
 Are niched away at times by pride or fear 
 To baser ends, and serve the foes of good, 
 Delivered shall they be, and then appear 
 Unsullied, and this latter age shall hear 
 Interpretation of the voice divine, 
 Cleaving the darkness of our lower sphere ; 
 Where burns the beacon of the sacred sign, 
 There shall immortal joy all mortal souls entwine. 
 
 That sign once lifted on Judaean hills 
 For shame and scorn, now fosters gentle might 
 Among the nations ; whose contending wills 
 Feel, hardly know, the presence of its light, 
 Whereby they are transformed, and so unite 
 
 i 2 
 
4 A VISION OF ENGLAND 
 
 For mercy and for hope. Mankind shall see 
 (Ay, the time hastes), nor marvel at the sight, 
 All nations under heaven's high canopy 
 Unto the good of all in glorious peace agree. 
 
 Nor think, when comes that hour, as come it 
 
 will, 
 
 O dearest of all lands, that bear'st the stem 
 Of many branching peoples, and dost fill 
 Thy heart with pride, England, beholding them, 
 Think not the brilliance of thy single gem 
 Shall be impeached, or marred by stain or 
 
 flaw; 
 
 For even as Athens, Rome, Jerusalem, 
 So thine imperial city gave a law 
 And spirit unto men, still held in heedful awe ; 
 
 That perfect rule demands reciprocal, 
 Not single, will. Such noble government, 
 Casting its root in this realm's capital, 
 Grew through the land and won secure consent, 
 Confirming to the name of Parliament 
 
A VISION OF ENGLAND $ 
 
 An everlasting praise ; and London more 
 Has meed of honour, seeing such intent 
 In her was centred, than for all the store 
 Borne up the tides of Thames to enrich the 
 clamorous shore. 
 
 Take not, O England, for thy chiefest strength 
 
 The visible armour of thy majesty ; 
 
 Trust rather in the hearts which through the 
 
 length 
 And breadth of the wide world are bound to 
 
 thee. 
 
 These are thine empire's fulcrum ; these shall be 
 Invincible. 'Tis not the glint of gold 
 Can purchase faithful ministers and free ; 
 Have thou but these, all else in these is told ; 
 Force flows abundant in, when Justice casts the 
 
 mould. 
 
 Neither account thou as man's sole concern 
 Nurture and raiment, house and heritage ; 
 With ampler ardour human bosoms burn, 
 
6 A VISION OF ENGLAND 
 
 And all the past and all the future age 
 
 Has power to move us. Wilt thou truly gauge 
 
 The things that are ? look back on what has 
 
 been ; 
 Life's keynote breathes to thee from history's 
 
 page. 
 
 Read thou but rightly what the symbols mean, 
 Sweet harmonies shall flow upon thy ways serene. 
 
 How came it thou wast torn from Europe's 
 
 strand 
 
 In ancient days ? The Atlantic, surging strong 
 Between the mounts o'er which th' archangel's 
 
 hand 
 
 Once held its mighty guard, as told in song, 
 In moon-persuaded currents swept along, 
 And smote on Beechy Head with gathering 
 
 roar; 
 
 Then, straitened in his channel, piled the throng 
 Of waters high, and, like a lion, tore 
 The Dover isthmus through, and reached the 
 
 German shore. 
 
A VISION OF ENGLAND 7 
 
 So wast thou separate made a land of woods, 
 Serried, and thinning slowly where the fen 
 Mingled salt sea with fenceless river floods : 
 Across the marshes boomed the bittern then ; 
 Ranged in free pride each forest denizen, 
 Boar, wolf, and elk ; the eagle's frequent 
 
 scream 
 
 Rang fierce and far o'er every western glen ; 
 All Nature thrilled in earth and air and 
 
 stream, 
 With life exulting, wild, but fitful as a dream. 
 
 Ah, surely from that strange and distant time, 
 Whereon with curious eyes we backward gaze, 
 A breath of beauty, and a sense sublime, 
 Comes wafted down to these familiar days ; 
 Those waters pure, that forest's unhewn maze, 
 Gathered in silent solitude a power, 
 Which not to spoil, but gently use and raise 
 To fuller fragrant wealth of fruit and flower, 
 Was man's appointed task and richly-guerdoned 
 dower. 
 
8 A VISION OF ENGLAND 
 
 But that prophetic seed, our human kind, 
 When with dominion it began to grow, 
 Lagged here in immaturity behind 
 The grace and force that other lands could 
 
 show : 
 
 Thames led his streams in wild barbaric flow 
 Among yet wilder tribes, whose martial clang, 
 Echoing in Rome and rumoured to and fro, 
 On Virgil's wondering ears remotely rang : 
 * Britons divided far from all the world,' he sang. 
 
 O grave majestic voice, with sadness sounding 
 Out of the halls long shattered and decayed, 
 That erst were Rome ! how crashed the storm, 
 
 confounding 
 
 Time's ancient order, from within betrayed 
 By selfish sloth, alas ! to hordes arrayed 
 For daring conquest ; nor could fall alone 
 The sovran city, but her withered shade 
 Enfeebled all beneath her shelter grown 
 (All, save the germs divine among the nations 
 
 strown). 
 
A VISION OF ENGLAND 9 
 
 In floods and night a world was cast away ; 
 Then from the dawn obscure in thunder pealed 
 Thy name, O England, as it sounds to-day ; 
 Britain thou wast before, and thou art sealed 
 Yet with the olden stamp, and moor and field 
 Breathe many a memory of the valiant race, 
 Who, standing spear by spear and shield by 
 
 shield, 
 
 Looked on the great first Caesar face to face, 
 Whose line and blood have still among thy hills 
 
 a place ; 
 
 But England is thy bridal name, whereto 
 Our warrior fathers won and wedded thee : 
 Rough was their dalliance, stern their way to 
 
 woo ; 
 
 The shout of battle was the minstrelsy 
 At their espousal, whom the northern sea 
 Bred with its winds, and from its bosom poured 
 (Wave after wave, untameable and free), 
 On coast and woody vale and rolling sward 
 To where the wizard peaks of Wales keep aery ward. 
 
io A VISION OF ENGLAND 
 
 < Anglorum terra ' thou becamest then, 
 
 And on thy breast were nourished sons so fair 
 
 That when the saint most holy deemed of 
 
 men 
 
 Beheld their captive grace, he cried they were 
 ' Not Angli, rather AngehV Such air 
 Of native worth through chains of servitude 
 Transpired, as if hereafter they should bear 
 Some more than sceptred rule, with spells 
 
 imbued 
 To wake the abyss of space and time's infinitude. 
 
 O land ! O race beloved ! The saintly lips 
 Which spake thy praise sped also to thy soul 
 Arrows of light. May never strife eclipse 
 Remembrance of past service ! That control 
 Over thyself, which makes thee one and whole, 
 By Rome was grafted in thy nature first 
 By Rome, the priestly city, on thy roll 
 Of friends scarce reckoned ; be it yet rehearsed 
 That she thy tender years in conduct nobly 
 nursed. 
 
A VISION OF ENGLAND 11 
 
 Out of lona shone a healing ray 
 
 On thee unfledged ; but 'twas in Rome thy 
 
 kings 
 Great Alfred and his peers found strength and 
 
 stay. 
 
 Thou didst unfold the plumage of thy wings ; 
 Angle and Saxon learned the living springs 
 Of common nurture ; e'en the roving Dane 
 To thee consented, and forebore his stings. 
 And, last, the conquering Norman's fiery strain 
 Flashed into thee new force through every nerve 
 
 and vein. 
 
 Thou wast as iron from the furnace wrought, 
 O nation, by the hammer-strokes of Fate ; 
 Then, step by step, thy slow-maturing thought 
 Reached toward the breadth and height of 
 
 man's estate ; 
 
 Howbeit thy princes, striving to be great, 
 Used thy obedience, and forgot to mark 
 What seeds of thine in silence would dilate 
 And burst the enclosing husk, what hidden spark 
 Leap out in flame athwart thy spirit's barrier dark. 
 
12 A VISION OF ENGLAND 
 
 Great princes were they truly, whom the slope 
 Of Cressy knew, and vineyards of Poitier, 
 And sylvan Agincourt, that put the cope 
 On valorous deeds, whose record, ringing clear 
 Like music down the ages, thrills the ear 
 Of thee and thine ; as when from thickest fray 
 The accent of the kingly voice we hear, 
 ' Let the boy win his spurs ' ; or, ' Cousin, nay, 
 Wish not for one man more to share our fame to- 
 day'; 
 
 So spake thy kings, and these are words that knit 
 Fibre to fibre of the heart high-strung 
 At such an hour, wherein a man doth fit 
 Action to purpose, claiming place among 
 His country's heroes ; when the braggart 
 
 tongue 
 
 Is silent, and for victory or death 
 Resolve is ta'en ; when mortal life is flung 
 A cypher out of reckoning, and none saith 
 What all behold, the Shade that awes their bated 
 
 breath, 
 
A VISION OF ENGLAND 13 
 
 Then, at such hour, with quickening voices call 
 Thy Edward and thy Henry, and the brave 
 Listen and hear, and gird themselves to fall 
 If so 'tis need thy weal to guard and save ; 
 As that victorious sailor on the wave 
 By Trafalgar, and Wolfe upon the steep 
 That crowns Quebec, and Nicholson who gave 
 His gallant soul by Delhi's conquered keep, 
 And Havelock where through Ind the mighty 
 rivers sweep, 
 
 And Gordon 'mid the far encircling sands 
 Of the twin Niles ; but who shall tell the line 
 Of all who unto death thy dear commands 
 Loved and obeyed, and so their names entwine 
 Indissolubly in one wreath with thine ? 
 Or who shall count thy noble nameless ones 
 Fallen in the fight for thee, who left the sign 
 Of duty and of courage to thy sons, 
 Who are or e'er shall be while Time his courses 
 runs ? 
 
14 A VISION OF ENGLAND 
 
 O England, may thy people ne'er forget 
 
 The road that these have gone ! Natheless the 
 
 root 
 
 And deepest energy of man is set 
 In fields diverse from those where cannon-bruit 
 And clashing swords breed victory, whose fruit 
 Is red with blood of foes : the tree of life 
 Blossoms far otherwise, and every shoot 
 And leafy spray thereof with pangs is rife 
 Of martyrs who, unarmed, have dared the deadly 
 
 strife ; 
 
 Or with the tears and sweat of generous toil, 
 Which bargained not for any recompense, 
 But trusted God and man. Of such, thy soil 
 Has fertile been ; and, through the years intense 
 With gathering spirit, when the piercing sense 
 Of individual conscience cast aside 
 Authority's stern yoke and proud pretence, 
 Because it seemed not pure when truly tried, 
 Thou hadst in thee strong sons who suffered and 
 who died. 
 
A VISION OF ENGLAND 15 
 
 And yet 'twas not a son of thine who led 
 
 The stubborn fight, and struck for Freedom's 
 
 sake 
 The conquering blow. That warrior soul was 
 
 bred 
 
 Not on thy shores : a German voice did shake 
 The nations in their slumber, and awake 
 Down to the core the questions men must try ; 
 If one should ask, How earnest thou to break 
 The custom of thy youth, and filial tie ? 
 By Luther's test thy cause thou needs must justify. 
 
 Then, Albion, was thy flowering prime, when 
 
 thou 
 
 Wast lifted up to passion's zenith height ; 
 Strength in thy hands, and counsel on thy brow, 
 Shone out repellent of the alien might : 
 In daring deeds was thy supreme delight ; 
 And, as an albatross on southern seas 
 With buffeting of wings begins his flight, 
 Stirring a stormy whirl in wave and breeze, 
 But cleaves anon the air with swift and silent 
 
 ease, 
 
16 A VISION OF ENGLAND 
 
 Even with such ease, the strain and struggle o'er, 
 Thy people, manlier for the searching throes, 
 Spread sail afar, and glanced from shore to 
 
 shore, 
 
 Holding in cheap regard the wrath of foes ; 
 Nor torrid rays availed, nor arctic snows, 
 But that each strand, flecked by the salt sea- 
 foam, 
 
 Should learn thy name, to thee itself disclose ; 
 And that thy wanderers, wheresoe'er they roam, 
 Should count the ocean-paths familiar as their 
 home. 
 
 And with that spreading of thy sails there went 
 A song from Nature's purest fountain welling, 
 Divine as that immortal ravishment 
 By Sirens sung, upon the zephyr swelling 
 Unto Ulysses' ear, his praises telling 
 With flattery sweet, and bidding him draw near; 
 But this was nobler, for it taught the quelling 
 Of base self-love, and vanity, and fear, 
 And with a myriad charms did man to man endear. 
 
A VISION OF ENGLAND 17 
 
 Shakespeare it was so mightily who swept 
 Strings golden of his human-hearted lyre, 
 Who thrice a hundred years the crown has 
 
 kept, 
 
 Compeer with Dante, o'er the minstrel choir ; 
 Nigh them is throned the grand primeval sire 
 Who sang Achilles' wrath and Hector's fate ; 
 Or if some lightnings of Hebraic fire 
 Touched closer yet the empyrean's gate, 
 Of all the sons of men none else has been their 
 
 mate. 
 
 None like to these; and yet what noble throng, 
 From thine awakening hour until to-day, 
 Has lulled the aching of thy toil with song ! 
 And one had chanted earlier, while the grey 
 Of dawn was breaking : Chaucer's humorous lay 
 With thy half-waking dreams had intertwined. 
 But those thy bards, who felt the full-orbed ray, 
 What voice shall reckon nor remorseful find 
 Some debt the heart would pay has slipped the 
 heedless mind ? 
 
1 8 A VISION OF ENGLAND 
 
 Forgive me, spirits flaming and beloved, 
 Who on our English tongue have set the seal 
 Of everlasting beauty, and have proved 
 What hues of glory passion can reveal 
 In earth and heaven how poesy can steal 
 The senses from the sorrow that has broken 
 Life's spring, and with its magic finger heal ; 
 Forgive, if here your names are left unspoken, 
 Who for yourselves have writ your own undying 
 token ! 
 
 But envy will not carp if one lone form 
 Be singly honoured ; he that stood severe, 
 Breasting, like solitary pine, the storm 
 Which shook the mountains ; he, the poet-seer,. 
 Reft of his sight, but in his spirit clear, 
 Who saw the throne of God, and Paradise, 
 And the dread wastes of hell ; whose inner ear 
 Caught angel-music. Others fall or rise, 
 But Milton equal lives, while live the azure 
 skies. 
 
A VISION OF ENGLAND ig 
 
 And Burns, for Scotia's sake, shall here be 
 
 named 
 
 Raciest of bards, than nightingale more sweet 
 Because his country, that was never tamed 
 In war's fierce whirlwind by the iron sleet, 
 In days of peace outstretched her hands to greet 
 Her rival ; and more noble is the sound 
 Of Britain's name than erst, since kindred meet 
 Herein who once were parted, and are found 
 Wielding a common strength, with common wel- 
 fare crowned. 
 
 Ah, England ! look upon that other race, 
 Which at thy door hath sat in grief so long, 
 Accusing thee that thou dost her abase. 
 Perchance 'tis so ; at least, forgive the wrong, 
 Whate'er it be, in her ; be brave, being strong. 
 Hast thou not heard and known that generous 
 
 trust 
 
 Plucks safety out of danger ? and the throng 
 Of evil phantoms crumbles into dust 
 By truth unmasked, and pierced by mercy's heal- 
 ing thrust. 
 
 2 2 
 
20 A VISION OF ENGLAND 
 
 Look upon Ireland, recognize the flow 
 Vivid, impassioned of her Celtic blood ; 
 If swift her kindling wrath, be sure not slow 
 The pulse of her awakening gratitude ; 
 How oft the scions of her stock have stood 
 By thine, when victory o'er thy banners flew ! 
 Oh, scan her thoughts with no ungentle mood ! 
 Whate'er against them weighs, this much is 
 
 true: 
 Heart- wishes, well fulfilled, the soul exalt, renew. 
 
 Now of thy noble glories I could tell, 
 England, from morn till evening ; how the 
 
 pride 
 
 Of fair far cities by the southern swell 
 Of ocean, or Canadian river-tide 
 Majestic, knows itself with thee allied; 
 How to thy Newton Nature's central law 
 Shone out, by clear profound research descried ; 
 Or what the deep relation Darwin saw 
 In realms of life by man approached with trem- 
 bling awe : 
 
A VISION OF ENGLAND 21 
 
 Or of thy noble debts ; for this is so 
 The spirit's debt is noble, and doth enhance 
 The debtor's honour. Thou hadst power to 
 
 show 
 
 To all mankind, through perilous circumstance, 
 The way of ordered freedom ; then to France 
 It appertained to teach the world and thee 
 One lesson more, a spur for life's advance ; 
 That an intrinsic deep equality 
 Subsists in man as man, that all may honoured 
 
 be. 
 
 Which mystery of our mortal soul and state 
 Thou canst interpret, and renew, and bring 
 (As none beside) from careless scorn or hate 
 Into observance thou, beneath whose wing 
 Cluster so many broods. Oh, may the spring 
 Of kindred currents in all human blood 
 Be pledge to thee of some great harvesting, 
 Far in the future, when the multitude 
 Of many hues and tongues shall reap one common 
 good ! 
 
22 A VISION OF ENGLAND 
 
 Yea, long before that hour, within thyself 
 
 A tenderer strain must flow 'tween rich and 
 
 poor, 
 
 That these be ne'er beguiled through love of pelf, 
 Nor those in sullen indolence endure ; 
 But each with knowledge and affection sure 
 Consult the other's need and just reward, 
 With conscience open and a mind secure ; 
 Through trust and labour then shall wealth be 
 
 stored, 
 And all the social frame be wrought to glad accord. 
 
 O England ! think not thou canst yet rejoice 
 As one that doffs his armour after fight, 
 And hears the full congratulating voice 
 Of friends and neighbours in the tranquil light 
 Of evening. Here to-day thou art in sight 
 Of perils, and dost feel the prescient throe 
 Which pierces ere it heals. Let no affright 
 Weaken thy arms ; brace nerve and sinew so, 
 As one that out of ills with stronger force doth 
 grow. 
 
A VISION OF ENGLAND 23 
 
 For if with loyalty thou hear'st the sound 
 Of counsels that from ages past descend, 
 All splendours from the height and depth pro- 
 found 
 
 Of being shall upon thy courses blend ; 
 The blossom of thy branches without end 
 Shall teem and flourish ; and thy lucent ways 
 (When God from mortal eyes the film shall 
 
 rend, 
 
 And all the earth to heavenly likeness raise) 
 Eternally shall glow along the starry maze. 
 
LOVE LOST AND REGAINED. 
 
 A DECADE OF LYRICS. 
 
 I. 
 
 FIRST LOVE. 
 (The Lover Sings.} 
 
 LOVELY vision ! there were three ; 
 Between the boughs they flashed on me, 
 Three Graces in a mountain glade ; 
 
 At tennis on a lawn they played. 
 
 The ball glanced by ; I caught it there ; 
 Drew nigh to me the fairest fair. 
 
 1 gave the ball, I touched her hand, 
 She looked a look of sweet command. 
 
 Her eyes enforced me there to stay 
 And watch the rapture of her play, 
 Her beauteous energy entwined 
 With noble ardour of the mind. 
 
LOVE LOST AND REGAINED 25. 
 
 Alone she matched the other twain 
 With merry skill ; at last again 
 The ball o'erpassed her guard, and fell 
 Beside me in the grassy dell. 
 
 Then, as I gave it her, my soul 
 Outran the tardy will's control ; 
 ' Lady,' I sighed, ' this heart of mine 
 For ever and for aye is thine.' 
 
 Blushed all her face a livelier red ; 
 With sudden verve the ball she sped ; 
 But soon her lips, in passing, just 
 Whispered the gentle word, ' I trust.' 
 
 ' If thou wilt trust me,' I replied, 
 ' Come, meet me here ere eventide.' 
 She smiled, and now oh, radiant sight ! 
 She comes, she comes, through evening light. 
 
26 LOVE LOST AND REGAINED 
 
 .1. 
 
 IN THE GLEN. 
 (The Maiden Sings.} 
 
 O golden sun ! O happy day ! 
 Why hasten, hasten thus away ? 
 A little while, a little while, 
 A little longer on us smile. 
 
 Dark-vestured queen, so soon must thou 
 With starry circle wreathe thy brow ? 
 O Night, anon thou'lt welcome be, 
 When he I love is gone from me. 
 
 Is it the star of love that shines 
 Between yon cloudy western lines ? 
 
 star untrue, that giv'st command 
 To sever loving hand from hand ! 
 
 When he I love from me is gone, 
 And in my chamber all alone 
 
 1 loose the honeysuckle spray 
 
 He culled to deck my hair to-day, 
 
LOVE LOST AND REGAINED 27 
 
 The fragrance still will breathe him nigh 
 In dreams, as on my bed I lie ; 
 In dreams with him I'll wander o'er 
 The mountain side, the lake's still shore. 
 
 But now there is no need to dream ; 
 We sit beside the bubbling stream. 
 O Night, a little while delay ! 
 O linger yet, wan fading day ! 
 
 Alas ! they hear not. Sad and slow 
 The West puts off her crimson glow ; 
 The night winds gather, bleak and chill, 
 And louder sounds the rushing rill. 
 
 III. 
 
 DREAM FOREBODINGS. 
 (The Lover Sings.) 
 
 Sleeping or waking 
 
 Is it I lie ? 
 The dawn is breaking 
 
 O'er earth and sky. 
 
28 LOVE LOST AND REGAINED 
 
 Where'er I look 
 My love is seen 
 
 In rushing brook, 
 In meadow green ; 
 
 From high cloud-towers 
 She bends to me ; 
 
 In fairest flowers 
 Her lips I see ; 
 
 Woodlands are ringing 
 Clear with her voice. 
 
 What is she singing ? 
 ' Rejoice, rejoice.' 
 
 For joy to hear her 
 My heart expands. 
 
 Now draws she nearer, 
 I clasp her hands ; 
 
 But whence the fear 
 That clouds her eye ? 
 
 A falling tear, 
 A bitter cry ; 
 
LOVE LOST AND REGAINED 29 
 
 Lightning and thunder 
 
 And whirlwind roar 
 Tear us asunder 
 
 For evermore ! 
 
 IV. 
 
 EXALTATION. 
 (The Maiden Sings.) 
 
 Oh, was there ever, my heart, was there ever 
 Heart of a maiden so happy before ? 
 
 Answers my heart to me : ' Never, oh, never !' 
 Answer and echo sky, ocean, and shore. 
 
 How shall I tell it ? An eagle down-rushing 
 Lifted me up from the soil of my birth, 
 
 Fears of my bosom all tenderly hushing, 
 Till I could gaze on the vastness of earth, 
 
 Gaze from the height and the sweep of his pinions, 
 Dizzy no longer, unscreening my sight ; 
 
 Lo, how they dwindle, earth's fading dominions, 
 Matched with the wondrous abysses of light ! 
 
3 o LOVE LOST AND REGAINED 
 
 Lover beloved, who hast shown me the portal 
 Into cathedrals unbuilt by the hand, 
 
 Thrilling I look through the vistas immortal, 
 Where the far lights of the future expand ; 
 
 Come to my side, and thy strength shall uphold me 
 Through the rough world and the tumult of 
 men ; 
 
 Come and rejoice, and thy arms shall enfold me 
 Close to thy breast in the shades of the glen : 
 
 While multitudinous leaves rustle o'er us, 
 While the brook flashes and lilts on its way, 
 
 Throstle and linnet in jubilant chorus 
 
 Blithely shall chime to the welcome of May. 
 
 Hark ! 'twas a bell, and how solemn the pealing I 
 Passing, ay, passing ; 'tis surely a knell. 
 
 Whose is the doom the sad hour is revealing ? 
 Is it my joy that is sighing farewell ? 
 
LOVE LOST AND REGAINED 31 
 
 V. 
 
 THE BLOW FALLS. 
 (The Lover Sings.") < 
 
 'Tis done ; and hers the hand, not mine, 
 That gave the last, the fatal sign. 
 Her voice decreed Love's doom, and I, 
 Alas ! consented he should die. 
 
 Was it a crime we did to-day ? 
 No ; truth commanded us to slay. 
 For truth we perish, and to spare 
 Our dearest passion, recreant were. 
 
 I knew, I knew, that far below 
 The surface of our happy glow 
 Eddied the heart's impetuous force 
 In wayward, solitary course ; 
 
 And joyously my soul had borne 
 The flashing of her queenly scorn, 
 If one soft gleam had been descried 
 Beyond the ocean of her pride. 
 
.32 LOVE LOST AND REGAINED 
 
 Ah, wherefore but I see too well, 
 
 The blow inevitably fell ; 
 
 As if a wrathful alien hand 
 
 Parted our fibres, strand from strand ; 
 
 And had we both in full foreknown 
 These measured sorrows, groan by groan, 
 Nor she nor I had changed a word 
 That either uttered, either heard. 
 
 Oh, can it be ? and is it true ? 
 Vain heart, be still ; and, love, adieu. 
 By Lethe's wave be covered o'er 
 Those burning thoughts for evermore. 
 
 Beneath the stars of other skies 
 This hand shall dare some new emprise, 
 That haply so my name may shine 
 In honour's everlasting line. 
 
LOVE LOST AND REGAINED 33 
 
 VI. 
 
 AFTER THREE YEARS. 
 (The Maiden Sings.) 
 
 O stars of piercing might ! 
 
 To you, through silence deep 
 And breathings of the night, 
 
 I lonely weep ; 
 
 And ask if you have seen 
 With your pure eyes intense 
 
 That faithless I have been 
 To innocence ; 
 
 Or wherefore lies the load 
 
 So chill my heart upon ? 
 The stern and joyless road 
 
 Still lengthens on ; 
 
 Ah, whither is he fled 
 
 Who walked with me of old ? 
 Perchance among the dead, 
 
 Entombed and cold ! 
 
 3 
 
34 LOVE LOST AND REGAINED 
 
 Did I repel him, then, 
 Whose love was once so dear ? 
 
 Will he not come again 
 My heart to cheer ? 
 
 O heavenly pardonings, 
 
 Whate'er my fault has been, 
 
 Unseal your sacred springs 
 And cleanse my sin ; 
 
 Dissolve this icy chain ; 
 
 Oh, let my spirit's sigh 
 Be breathed in generous pain, 
 
 Or let me die ! 
 
 VII. 
 
 REMEMBRANCE FROM A FAR LAND. 
 (The Lover Sings) 
 
 The fight is won, and now I am alone ; 
 
 Applause yet echoes on my willing ear. 
 What sweetness lacks that I erewhile have known ? 
 
 What memory haunts me ? What sad shade is 
 here ? 
 
LOVE LOST AND REGAINED 35 
 
 When from the east the cold clear day was born, 
 Far o'er the fruitful level plain arose 
 
 High peaks ethereal, crowned with golden morn, 
 And raimented in strength of stainless snows. 
 
 But as I journeyed on, the lesser hills 
 
 Came in between and hid that heavenly sight ; 
 
 And then in cliffs and woods and falling rills 
 And spaces of green lawn I took delight ; 
 
 And when the noon grew hot in heaven, I lay 
 In shade of elms with chestnuts intertwined ; 
 
 And children heaped on me in laughing play 
 The fallen flowers, and ran and looked behind. 
 
 And then there came a maiden, young and fair : 
 Ah me, how fair ! and in her eyes there gleamed 
 
 A light more clear than sunrise, and her hair 
 Downward, unloosed, in golden masses streamed ; 
 
 Her gentle voice, her timid trustful look 
 With musical soft love were overflowing ; 
 
 She led me past the fountains of the brook 
 
 To caverns cool, with fern and mosses growing ; 
 
 32 
 
36 LOVE LOST AND REGAINED 
 
 And fed me with soft words, nor e'er withdrew 
 Her hand from mine, her eyes from off mine 
 eyes : 
 
 My heart beat fast ; nor whence she came I knew, 
 From earth, or flood, or depth of azure skies. 
 
 Ah, whither is she fled ? I did not weep ; 
 
 A flash, a cry ; then fell my fainting sight. 
 And afterwards I wakened, as from sleep, 
 
 And saw the earth, and men, and heaven's fair 
 light. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 THE WEST WIND BLOWS. 
 ( The Maiden Sings) 
 
 O gentle wind, that breathest o'er the sea 
 Upon the swelling buds of spring, 
 
 And passing tremblingly 
 The loving birds that pair and sing, 
 
 Reachest to me, ev'n me, 
 Filling my heart with memories and sighs, 
 With tears mine eyes, 
 
LOVE LOST AND REGAINED 37 
 
 How is it that thou canst not bring 
 
 The spirit of my youth again, 
 So long forgotten, and now sought in vain ? 
 
 The fountains of my grief 
 I know ; but those of succour and relief 
 Escape my very soul's imagining. 
 
 IX. 
 
 RECOVERY IN THE SPRINGTIME. 
 (The Lover Sings.') 
 
 Now is the forest in glory awaking ; 
 
 Shine the far hills with tiaras of snow ; 
 Tender the sheath where each blossom is break- 
 ing ; 
 
 Fresh are the meads where the daffodils blow. 
 
 Breathed there a voice on the wings of the morn- 
 ing ? 
 
 Love of my heart, thou hast called me to thee ! 
 Through the world's tumult of sighing and scorn- 
 ing 
 Came the glad summons : * Ah, hasten to me !' 
 
38 LOVE LOST AND REGAINED 
 
 Oh, I will follow thee, queen of my passion, 
 Heard was thine accent, thyself will I win ; 
 
 Lo, as a weft for thy fingers to fashion 
 
 Quicken and tremble my heartstrings within ; 
 
 Swift as an arrow by archer unerring 
 
 Sped to the mark, am I come to thy feet ; 
 
 All on my pathway thy spirit was stirring ; 
 High on the mountain's lone bosom we meet. 
 
 Star of my life ! my adored one, and peerless ! 
 
 Tried as a woman and pure as a child ; 
 Who was thy solace through days that were 
 cheerless ? 
 
 Who hath upheld thee so long in the wild ? 
 
 * God and his Angels !' thou whisperest truly ; 
 
 Yes, 'mid the ramparts of pinnacled stone, 
 Smit by the scourges of tempests unruly, 
 
 God and his Angels have spread thee a throne. 
 
LOVE LOST AND REGAINED 39 
 
 How have I sought thee through darkness and 
 error ! 
 
 How have I loved thee, and wept for thy woe ! 
 Loosened at last are the pangs of our terror, 
 
 Sweet are the tears that for happiness flow. 
 
 Come, let us hence, for the valleys await us ; 
 
 Come where the footsteps of mortals have trod ; 
 Hearts that are hardest can envy nor hate us, 
 
 Signed with the seal of the sorrow of God. 
 
 Come, and the weak shall revive in thy glances ; 
 
 Come with free laughter and joyance of mirth ; 
 Come, for e'en now, as the daystar advances, 
 
 Life re-awakes in the fibres of earth. 
 
 X. 
 
 PARADISE. 
 (The Bride Sings.} 
 
 Oh, the happy, happy, happy time ! 
 
 Dear beloved, who hast not wrought in vain ! 
 Vanished colours of our golden prime 
 
 Start to life and glory once again. 
 
40 LOVE LOST AND REGAINED 
 
 O ye solitary mountains, whence 
 
 Silent gazing toward the infant morn 
 
 Both our hearts were captured ; O ye glens, 
 White with spray from roaring brooks upborne; 
 
 Once again your spell is pure and whole ; 
 
 Once again, O race of seed divine, 
 Men and women, comrades of my soul, 
 
 Ye with us are linked by mystic sign ; 
 
 Lover and beloved, 'twixt me and thee 
 Thought is clear, there is no jealous bar; 
 
 Through our bosoms beats eternity ; 
 Round our footsteps the immortals are. 
 
 Well I know, but may not lightly name, 
 
 What the powers who helped our sorrowing state ; 
 
 Out of darkness breathed the heavenly flame ; 
 Fled the mists, forthgleamed the blessed gate. 
 
 Earth reclaims us now, and night is near ; 
 
 Fades the landscape, sinks the glowing sun ; 
 Infinite expands the starry sphere ; 
 
 'Tis enough to know that we are one. 
 
[41 ] 
 
 NATURE'S HARMONIES. 
 
 THE garden of our earth is sown with seed 
 Various, that in their growth aye intertwine 
 Each with the other ; multiform their life, 
 Shape, colour, beauty, strength, yet evermore 
 Blending for peace or war they heavenward 
 
 breathe, 
 
 And evermore the deep eternal root 
 Ministers succour to its like, until, 
 In perfect order side by side conformed, 
 They commune, life with life, and love with love. 
 So smiles the world in fair alliance knit ; 
 The pasture loves the feet of browsing kine ; 
 The furrowy glebe the horse that toils and tills ; 
 Wild rose and tangled honeysuckle mix 
 Their sweets, their hues; the forest's branching 
 
 peers 
 
42 NATURE'S HARMONIES 
 
 Contend for high pre-eminence, yet ward 
 The winter's roaring blast from kindred heads. 
 So all beneath the sun's all-fostering ray 
 Join Nature's harmony, whose gathering tone 
 From age to age in ampler compass swells. 
 
[43] 
 
 A HARBOUR OF THE SOUTH. 
 
 ' LAND ho !' 'twas cried ; night lay upon the sea. 
 Through the strait portals flies the eager ship, 
 'Twixt guarding heights on either hand scarce 
 
 seen, 
 
 To the bosom of that fair lake, far withdrawn, 
 Whose dim mysterious tremblings darkly show 
 A bride's pure soul, and whom doth she await ? 
 Lo ! suddenly he comes ; he doth not stay, 
 When once his burning heart is set to move, 
 But rising from his eastern hall he greets 
 Her deep abounding flood with love and light. 
 How like a conqueror beats he back the night ! 
 Not lingering in long dalliance with the foe, 
 But winning all at once the fields of air. 
 And she, his peerless queen, exulting now 
 In the fulfilment of her dear desire, 
 Lays all her treasures out to mortal eye. 
 O radiant peaks, that pierce the azure height, 
 
44 A HARBOUR OF THE SOUTH 
 
 Gemmed coronet wherein the splendours meet 
 Of heaven and earth entwined ! Ye mighty walls 
 With vermeil or with glowing purple dyed, 
 Descending sheer to the green wave, and there 
 So mirrored scarce is seen the line that parts 
 Hard rock from mimic semblance ! Silver sands 
 Curving in lonely bays, from whence arise 
 The feathered forests, in whose dusky dells 
 Faint distant torrents roar, with misty spray 
 Nursing fantastic cordage of green growth ! 
 What fragrant message from the flowery lawn 
 Bearest thou, gentle gale, of yonder isle, 
 Where palm and myrtle clothe the rocky marge ? 
 If life and Nature did not inly beat 
 With ever-changing pulse of keen desire, 
 Sure we our everlasting home would set 
 Within such paradise ; but vainly thus 
 We dream. Behold the tokens of man's toil ! 
 The white-walled city, and the myriad masts 
 Fluttering with pennons ; and awakening men 
 Begin to stir, and send their hum afar, 
 And dashing oars strike o'er the glittering sea. 
 
[45] 
 
 IN THE NIGHT. 
 
 GONE is the twilight glimmer, and no more 
 
 Hangs the bright crescent with her glowing horns 
 
 Above the western verge ; the night is full, 
 
 And all the mighty hills in darkness lie. 
 
 Ye stars ! the hour is yours. Immeasurable, 
 
 In the interminable depths unseen, 
 
 Recede your glories, myriad, myriad waves 
 
 Flowing in one, the infinite revealed 
 
 To mortal eyes. And has the Spirit eterne, 
 
 Parent of life, our life, in whom we trust, 
 
 Has he deserted your bright tabernacles, 
 
 Left you as idle signs of barren being, 
 
 Soulless and heartless ? Or not rather, full 
 
 Of living impulse and sweet harmony, 
 
 Flash ye your messages athwart the night, 
 
 Unknown, mysterious, undecipherable 
 
 To us poor nurslings of earth's stony breast ? 
 
[46] 
 
 A VISION OF DESIRE. 
 
 MY love came to me in the night ; 
 
 She came in visions bitter-sweet ; 
 Gently she glided up to me, 
 
 And knelt her down before my feet. 
 
 Upon my hands she laid her own, 
 Soft as the falling snowflakes are ; 
 
 Her eyes they were not bent on mine, 
 But rested on the heavens afar. 
 
 Her face to mine it was so near, 
 
 That with my lips I kissed her cheek ; 
 
 With trembling lips I kissed her twice ; 
 Three times I kissed, but dared not speak, 
 
A VISION OF DESIRE 47 
 
 I dared not speak, for so had flashed 
 The fire that burned my very heart : 
 
 Alas, my love ! alas, dear love ! 
 
 And didst thou know and yet depart ? 
 
 But if she loved me or if no, 
 
 I knew not ; never word she said ; 
 
 She cast on me a pitying look, 
 And with the breaking daylight fled. 
 
[48] 
 
 IN HOPE'S DELAY. 
 
 O DAYS and years, 
 So full of fears, 
 Who, who shall greet 
 Your sullen feet ? 
 
 Wakes the green earth, 
 Wake the blue skies, 
 A sunbright birth 
 To opening eyes ; 
 
 But Sorrow soon, 
 At height of noon, 
 In the heart's hall 
 Keeps festival ; 
 
IN HOPE'S DELAY 49 
 
 And cloudy cold 
 The wefts of grey 
 Falling enfold 
 The dying day. 
 
 O haste ! O shine ! 
 Maiden divine, 
 Aurora bright 
 With quickening light 
 
 For hours unborn, 
 With laughing lips 
 For men forlorn 
 In night's eclipse. 
 
[So] 
 
 LOVE IN THE MARKET-PLACE. 
 
 EVEN as the sun draws up the dewy cloud 
 
 From ocean depths and veils therewith his face, 
 
 Himself the weaver of his pallid shroud, 
 Himself the spoiler of his own fair grace ; 
 
 So thou, O Love, with shame thyself dost veil, 
 Shame born of fear, that bitter troubled deep ; 
 
 Oh, who shall know thee, poor and mute and 
 
 pale? 
 Men pass thee by, all vainly dost thou weep. 
 
 Thou sittest in the crowded street, alone ; 
 
 And all the people chaffer for their wares, 
 Rare gem or fragrant spice ; of all, not one 
 
 To speak to thee or hear or see thee cares ; 
 
LOVE IN THE MARKET-PLACE 51 
 
 Not one thy tender beauty can discern, 
 Much less the fire with life's own fuel fed, 
 
 That in thy heart eternally doth burn ; 
 
 They see but folded hands and sunken head ; 
 
 Wert thou to rise unveiled, how would their strife 
 In silence fall ! how trembling would they view 
 
 Thy face, the unshadowed joy and light of life ! 
 But now they deem a beggar's dole thy due. 
 
 Yet sometime shall the sun his bondage burst, 
 And with a thousandfold more glory glow 
 
 On scattered clouds that held him prisoner erst ; 
 And thou, O Love, be not ashamed, but know, 
 
 That which in secret silence now is nursed 
 
 Some day through earth and skies shall over- 
 flow. 
 
 42 
 
[52] 
 
 HOPE IN PENITENCE. 
 
 HAVE patience, O my soul, nor seek to know 
 Whether the work thou workest shall abide. 
 All mortal things must first with fire be tried ; 
 
 And some must fail, and some have bitter woe. 
 
 Dismiss vain longings, steel thyself to bear, 
 
 And having purposed strongly, strongly dare. 
 
 * Ah, surely,' say'st thou, ' though my work decay, 
 Yet shall the height of my intent be known 
 And honoured among men when I am gone !' 
 How many nobler spirits day by day 
 Forgotten fade from earth, and leave no sign 
 Of pains and struggles far exceeding thine ! 
 
 Or say'st thou haply, ' There is laid in heaven, 
 For those who toil and suffer, great reward ;' 
 Think not of that ; whatever there is stored 
 Is not as wage at stated season given, 
 But by His word who from the central deep 
 Assigns just lot to all, to smile or weep. 
 
HOPE IN PENITENCE 53 
 
 When thou art wafted through death's gloomy 
 
 strait 
 
 Unto the land of righteous doom or praise, 
 There shalt thou find thy friends of other days ; 
 But shall they stand with thee in equal fate ? 
 Or how if they with lustrous deeds shall glow, 
 While thou, abashed, hast nought of worth to 
 show ? 
 
 ' Ah, pure immortal spirits,' thou wilt say, 
 1 I am not worthy ye to me should speak ; 
 Yet look upon me, tempest-tost and weak ' ; 
 And they in love will look on thee that day, 
 But not for long, for they have works to do 
 In mightier regions far beyond thy view : 
 
 Faint not that hour, but cleave unto the root 
 That nurtures all eternally ; from thence 
 Strong life shall come and flow through nerve 
 and sense ; 
 
 It may be thou wilt yet bear worthy fruit ; 
 
 And then those others shall with thee rejoice, 
 
 And thou wilt hear the music of their voice. 
 
[ 54] 
 
 THE FRAGMENT OF AN IDYLL. 
 
 ISABEL. 
 
 WHAT ails my dearest Emmeline 
 That she should lie upon the grass, 
 And count the clouds that idly pass 
 Across the azure deep serene, 
 Or melt in ether quite away 
 She who is aye our merry queen 
 In pastime or in holiday ? 
 
 EMMELINE. 
 
 Isabel ! the lark is soaring, 
 
 And all his soul in song outpouring ; 
 
 1 love to hear him as he sings ; 
 He tells me of a thousand things 
 Which he beholds the wide world over : \ 
 Of many a happy maid and lover, 
 
THE FRAGMENT OF AN IDYLL 55 
 
 Who wander by the crystal rills 
 Rippling between the folded hills ; 
 Then of his cloudy chambers, bright 
 With golden or with pearly light ; 
 Of all in earth and sky and sea, 
 One thing alone he hides from me. 
 
 ISABEL. 
 And what is that ? 
 
 EMMELINE. 
 
 Oh, ask me not ! 
 
 ISABEL. 
 
 I call to mind what I forgot. 
 For when the gale of yesterday 
 Smote with its thunder sea and land, 
 Drenching our cliffs with ocean-spray, 
 Upon their brink I saw you stand ; 
 Your hands were clasped as if in prayer ; 
 Full surely you were moved with care 
 For sailors whom the tempest's breath 
 Was hurrying to the gulfs of death. 
 
56 THE FRAGMENT OF AN IDYLL 
 
 EMMELINE. 
 Full surely, yes. 
 
 ISABEL. 
 How deep a sigh ! 
 
 EMMELINE. 
 I knew it not. 
 
 ISABEL. 
 Alas ! but why ? 
 
 EMMELINE. 
 O Isabel, my heartstrings bleed ! 
 
 ISABEL. 
 Tell me, oh tell, the truth indeed. 
 
 EMMELINE. 
 
 One left our harbour yestermorn, 
 A sailor-boy (ah, think no scorn !) 
 Who loved me ; words can ne'er express 
 His fire and force and gentleness. 
 
THE FRAGMENT OF AN IDYLL 57 
 
 He would have won (oh, may it be !) 
 High fortune ; but the hungry sea 
 Swallowed his ship in that fierce gale 
 Which turned my cheek with terror pale. 
 
 ISABEL. 
 He is not lost ! 
 
 EMMELINE. 
 
 The fatal word 
 
 Remains unspoken yet. I heard 
 A boat was saved, and bore away 
 For refuge to some sheltering bay. 
 
 ISABEL. 
 
 How shall we learn ? Poor dove, your wings 
 Have felt the tempest's buffetings ! 
 
 EMMELINE. 
 
 They told me, tidings might be won 
 About the westering of the sun ; 
 Till then, I hide away for fear 
 The inner weakness should appear, 
 The secret of my grief be seen. 
 
 ISABEL. 
 How long, my darling, has it been ? 
 
58 THE FRAGMENT OF AN IDYLL 
 
 EMMELINE. 
 
 My dearest, trusted Isabel, 
 To you alone I dare to tell 
 How it began. A six years' child 
 Was I, and rambled free and wild 
 Beneath our cliffs one summer's day ; 
 Along their front a broken way 
 Lured me to climb ; and up I went, 
 O'er crack and ledge and battlement. 
 At last I stayed, and looked around, 
 And saw that I was prison-bound ; 
 Before, behind, the way was barred ; 
 For where ascending had been hard, 
 Descending proved impossible ; 
 And sheer the rock below me fell. 
 My brain grew dizzy, and I cried, 
 ' Help me !' a voice below replied, 
 ' Stay, I am coming !' and my fears 
 Were stilled ; and up he clomb to me, 
 A boy my elder by three years, 
 And helped me down right tenderly. 
 
THE FRAGMENT OF AN IDYLL 59 
 
 And after that he oft would bring, 
 
 Whene'er we met, some curious thing, 
 
 Fossil, or sea-anemone, 
 
 And told of perils on the sea. 
 
 But then we left our house and bay 
 
 Seven years, and sojourned far away. 
 
 Again I saw him, when he drew 
 
 From stormy death a hopeless crew : 
 
 I stood, surf-beaten by the sea ; 
 
 What clapping hands, what hearts that burned, 
 
 As back he came ! and then I learned 
 
 His heart and mine ; he looked at me. 
 
 Tis ten days since. . . . 
 
 . . . How long have I 
 Been lying here ? Adown the sky 
 The sun has dipped ; and I must throw 
 Blindly the lot, for life or death. 
 A thousand terrors overflow 
 My heart, and choke the failing breath. 
 Come, I am ready. 
 
 ISABEL. 
 
 Let us go. 
 
[6o] 
 
 A DUET OF EMIGRANTS ON THE OCEAN 
 
 (He Sings.} 
 
 MAIDEN, mistress of the lyre, 
 Ere appear the starry choir 
 
 In the darkling sky, 
 
 While the daylight on the trembling ocean wave 
 Lingers, lingers, lingers still, 
 Strike a chord of courage high, 
 Fit for spirits true and brave, 
 
 Quelling fears of ill. 
 
 (She Answers.} 
 Oh, soft are the breezes, and clear is the heaven, 
 
 But far is the land of the west ! 
 To ventures of peril our hearts we have given, 
 
 And sail on a measureless quest. 
 
A DUET OF EMIGRANTS ON THE OCEAN 61 
 
 The brood of the sea in the billows are playing, 
 
 They leap with a glittering foam ; 
 And look where behind us a seagull is straying, 
 
 But soon is he weary for home. 
 
 Farewell to our home ! ye remembrances tender, 
 Ye dear ones of childhood, farewell ! 
 
 To the flame on the verge, to the beaconing 
 
 splendour, 
 Bear onward, great deep, with thy swell. 
 
 O land of the sunset ! O great riven mountains, 
 Whose crown is of snow and of fire ! 
 
 Ye forests untrodden, ye floods, and far foun- 
 tains, 
 Oh, fill us with noble desire ! 
 
 Shall ours be the courage your strength to inherit, 
 
 And win you to lovelier life ? 
 Alas ! but we tremble, for frail is our spirit, 
 
 And stern is the toil and the strife ; 
 
62 A DUET OF EMIGRANTS ON THE OCEAN 
 
 Earth, mother of marvel, thy vesture enweaving 
 
 With living mysterious thread, 
 Thou callest, we hear thee, and joyous or grieving 
 
 Our feet ever onward are sped ; 
 
 As a child, gone astray in the green forest mazes, 
 
 Will weep for a moment in fear, 
 Till lifting his head in new wonder he gazes, 
 
 Lo ! nigh him the wide-antlered deer ; 
 
 A whirring of wings from the brake is ascending, 
 
 A foxglove inclines to his hand, 
 And afar through the pines with the azure is 
 blending 
 
 A verdurous limitless land : 
 
 By rapture of daring his spirit is holden, 
 He strains to the heather-crowned height ; 
 
 For him and for us be the hours bright and 
 
 golden, 
 And hope be for ever our light ! 
 
A DUET OF EMIGRANTS ON THE OCEAN 63 
 
 (He Sings Again) 
 
 The glory of the opening skies 
 Streams on thy heavenward-gazing eyes ; 
 The murmurs of the mighty sea 
 Give melody for melody ; 
 
 While in thy hand the living lyre 
 Scatters her notes, as sparks of fire 
 From steel and hammer's ringing strife 
 Rush forth to brief and burning life. 
 
 The arrows of thy quiver start 
 As buds of fragrance in the heart ; 
 The wound they make they heal again ; 
 They fall as soft as April rain. 
 
 And lo, and lo ! the king of day 
 Has caught the echo of thy lay ; 
 From rents of gloom he bears him forth, 
 And flashes far to east and north : 
 
64 A DUET OF EMIGRANTS ON THE OCEAN 
 
 Oh, see how stream his locks of gold 
 Through crimson clouds in tumult rolled ! 
 But face and form are lost to sight 
 In that abyss of dazzling light ; 
 
 And if he be, as poets tell, 
 
 Lord of the music-breathing shell, 
 
 Has he not surely come to ask, 
 
 ' Who is it steals my wonted task ?' 
 
 Then onward to his western hall 
 In state he glides majestical. 
 Now, lady, o'er the heaving deep 
 Utter the spell that lures to sleep. 
 
 (She Answers Again?) 
 
 Haste, O Night ! 
 Land and sea 
 Thirst for thee ; 
 
 Haste, O Night ! 
 
A DUET OF EMIGRANTS ON THE OCEAN 65 
 
 Dark-robed arise, 
 
 And with the wave 
 
 Of Lethe lave 
 Our burdened eyes ; 
 
 With soft hand press, 
 
 Until the brain 
 
 Forget her pain 
 And weariness : 
 
 Take, take away 
 
 The stir, the glare, 
 
 The busy care 
 Of restless day ! 
 
 Haste, O Night ! 
 
 Land and sea 
 
 Thirst for thee ! 
 Haste, O Night ! 
 
[66 J 
 
 A DIALOGUE. 
 
 THE IDEALIST. 
 
 THE hurricane's onset 
 
 Is curbed and is still. 
 How fair is the sunset 
 
 O'er ocean and hill ! 
 But fairer the vision 
 
 The spirit can see 
 Of happy fruition 
 
 For men that shall be. 
 
 THE WORKER. 
 
 Yes, fair is the even ; 
 
 But all the wild day 
 The fast flashing levin 
 
 Has dazzled our way. 
 
A DIALOGUE 67 
 
 We toiled and we panted 
 
 Through hail and through wind ; 
 Rain-soaken, undaunted, 
 
 Our mules we unbind. 
 
 THE IDEALIST. 
 
 Ah, fiercer than lightning, 
 
 The flaming of strife, 
 When freedom, far brightening, 
 
 Calls nations to life ; 
 O'er chains cleft asunder, 
 
 O'er sceptre and throne, 
 The world's living thunder 
 
 For ever rolls on. 
 
 THE WORKER. 
 
 Is war's mighty madness 
 Thy watchword and star, 
 
 Thou prophet of gladness 
 To nations afar ? 
 
 52 
 
68 A DIALOGUE 
 
 Will cannon and sabre 
 Bring freedom at last ? 
 
 In patience I labour 
 Till strife be o'erpast. 
 
 THE IDEALIST. 
 
 Our fathers have told us 
 
 The thing that has been ; 
 And who shall enfold us 
 
 In safety serene ? 
 Yet when we have ended 
 
 The battle so sore, 
 May life then be blended 
 
 With peace evermore ! 
 
 THE WORKER. 
 
 Though clouds swiftly rolling 
 
 Shall darken again, 
 Our passion controlling 
 
 We bend to the strain. 
 
A DIALOGUE 69 
 
 Then sweetly hereafter, 
 When suffering is crowned, 
 
 Shall time flow with laughter 
 And song breathe around. 
 
 BOTH. 
 
 All day from sky fountains 
 
 The rain-flood has poured ; 
 All day on the mountains 
 
 The torrents have roared. 
 Now scattered and riven 
 
 The clouds flee away ; 
 Fair shine on us heaven 
 
 At breaking of day ! 
 
[70] 
 
 WHERE RIVER MEETS THE SEA! 
 
 NAIAD with tresses 
 
 Flowing and free, 
 Dewing caresses 
 
 Over the lea ; 
 
 Nereid listening 
 
 (Fair ocean maid) 
 Deep in the glistening 
 
 Emerald glade ; 
 
 Grant us your guerdon, 
 
 Children of life ! 
 Loosen our burden, 
 
 Sorrow and strife ! 
 
 So may we measure 
 
 Sweetly the hour 
 Here where ye treasure 
 
 Shell and sea-flower, 
 
WHERE RIVER MEETS THE SEA 71 
 
 Or in the verdurous 
 
 Mosses reclined 
 Sport with the amorous 
 
 Wandering wind. 
 
 Ah, through the blossoms, 
 
 Sisters, ye smile, 
 Blithely our bosoms 
 
 Quicken the while ; 
 
 Lo ! to the glancing 
 
 Ripples of song 
 Follow we dancing 
 
 Lightly along ! 
 
[72] 
 
 GOOD AND EVIL. 
 
 WHATE'ER thou deem'st on earth 
 
 Most evil, scan it well, 
 A buried seed of worth 
 
 Doth surely in it dwell ; 
 
 Though every voice combined 
 In honour of thy ways, 
 
 A something wilt thou find 
 To mend in after days. 
 
[73] 
 
 DOUBT. 
 
 THE soul's deep visions touch with joy or pain ; 
 
 But whether this or that, one scarce can know 
 In doubtfulness of hope ; if hope be vain, 
 
 The flattering vision may be direst woe. 
 
[74] 
 
 TRUTHFULNESS. 
 
 THOUGH many cry, 
 What sin it is to lie, 
 
 Yet they who bear 
 Truth's travail-pang, how rare ! 
 
 Twofold the pain 
 Of him who would attain 
 
 The land of light ; 
 To clear the clouded sight, 
 
 And fashion struggling speech in words that aim 
 aright. 
 
 If thou through tears 
 And toil and trembling fears 
 
 Hast found the clue 
 That severs false and true, 
 
TRUTHFULNESS 75 
 
 Yet, yet beware ! 
 For through the teeming air 
 
 (Out of the deep 
 Wherein thy passions sleep) 
 
 Storm-clouds may rise and break, and spoil what 
 thou would'st reap ; 
 
 And wilt thou, then, 
 When all is known to men, 
 
 Blameless appear, 
 In every part sincere ? 
 
 Scarce will it be, 
 If snares have compassed thee. 
 
 Strive only this, 
 
 To atone where thou didst miss, 
 And trust that dark shall yield to light, and 
 sorrow's touch to bliss. 
 
[76] 
 
 PATIENCE. 
 
 'Tis harder, when the dreams of youth 
 
 Await in hope the seal of truth, 
 
 To watch them dwindle day by day 
 
 In dubious, lingering, slow decay, 
 
 Than when Fate's sword, descending sheer, 
 
 Smites off their blossoms clean and clear. 
 
 Yet thou, whose trembling thoughts aspire 
 
 To some fair image of desire, 
 
 Be not, howe'er thou pine forlorn, 
 
 O'er quick to cast away in scorn 
 
 Visions, that under cloudy skies 
 
 Have shone to thee like Paradise. 
 
 For if thou hold thee patient still, 
 Sincere in love and strong in will, 
 The day shall come that parts indeed 
 Mirage from truth, and flower from weed ; 
 Whose issues, whatsoe'er they be, 
 With light and peace shall comfort thee. 
 
[77] 
 
 HAPPINESS. 
 
 O EARTH and sky and ocean, 
 
 Like Paradise 
 
 Ye greet our eyes 
 With never-ending motion. 
 
 O hour of hours the rarest, 
 
 What treasure bright 
 
 With sunny light 
 For memory thou preparest ! 
 
 Winging thy downward pinion, 
 
 O swift and free, 
 
 Hast thou the key 
 Of heaven's high dominion ? 
 
 So sweet the smile thou wearest, 
 Thy sister hours 
 With wreathed flowers 
 
 Shall crown thee queen and fairest. 
 
[78] 
 
 LAMENT OF A MAIDEN, 
 
 WHO BELIEVES HER LOVER TO HAVE 
 
 STRANGELY PERISHED. 
 
 OH, wherefore on the hills 
 Linger my feet beneath the summer skies, 
 
 When he, whose image fills 
 My lonely heart, is lost to these sad eyes ? 
 
 Dear hills, I must depart 
 From you for aye ; and that I must, is well ; 
 
 More sacred in my heart, 
 Entwined with him, so shall you ever dwell ; 
 
 With him, who in this glade 
 Pledged me sweet faith in the hour of love's bright 
 morn ; 
 
 With him, who now is laid 
 In sad strange tomb, in caves of night forlorn. 
 
LAMENT OF A MAIDEN 79 
 
 O stream ! if ever he, 
 In that immortal vesture clad, should seek 
 
 Thy banks for love of me, 
 And thou to his fine sense attuned canst speak, 
 
 Tell him of these hot tears 
 Wept in thy wave, the sighs I sigh to-day ; 
 
 Tell him, through lifelong years 
 I seek him ; tell him, I am his alway. 
 
 Seaward my tears descend, 
 Where lies their kindred flood ; but heavenly fire 
 
 Is of my course the end ; 
 There shall I mingle with my heart's desire. 
 
 Dear ancient friends, I go ; 
 Ye smile on me, soothing my lonely pain. 
 
 O my lost love ! I know, 
 Thee yet once more with these I shall regain. 
 
[8o] 
 
 NATURE AND SPIRIT. 
 
 How oft, in decay of some dearest affection, 
 
 When far from the crowd the lone spirit has fled, 
 O Nature, thy balm o'er each sad recollection 
 
 And desolate fancy has gently been shed ; 
 How oft were we soothed by the clear running 
 river ; 
 
 The hills in their glory, how raised they our soul ! 
 Life breathed in the glade where the forest leaves 
 quiver, 
 
 And power in the ocean's long thundering roll. 
 
 Ah, can it e'er be, thou wilt change to our feeling ? 
 Shall all thy bright scenes but remind us of 
 
 pain? 
 
 Shall mortal embitter thy fountain of healing, 
 And peace on thy breast shall we look for in 
 vain? 
 
NATURE AND SPIRIT 81 
 
 What shadows are these with the woodland that 
 
 mingle ? 
 Our loved ones of old, whom we cherish no 
 
 more ! 
 
 And the sunlight is chilled over torrent and dingle, 
 And our eyes fill with tears by the surf-beaten 
 shore. 
 
 Oh, heart that of man and of Nature art weary ! 
 
 Why linger, when all thy frail courses are run ? 
 Since here is no love and no beauty to cheer thee, 
 
 Confess thee deluded, despairing, undone. 
 Nay rather, O dawn of the world's renovation, 
 
 Rekindle our torches that flicker and die, 
 And flush with the freshness of primal creation 
 
 The eye and the ear and the earth and the sky ! 
 
[82] 
 
 ON NEW YEAR'S EVE, 1887. 
 
 INTO night's bosom, dusk but clear, 
 
 Wakeful I stand and gaze ; 
 Lo ! where the starry Charioteer 
 
 And great Orion blaze ! 
 What secret life, what pulse of fire 
 Thrills in your orbs, immortal choir ? 
 
 When man shall burst the bars of Fate, 
 And ope Time's mystic scroll, 
 
 And read his high exalted state 
 Amid the wondrous whole, 
 
 Your genuine essence he shall know, 
 
 And greet you with a kindred glow. 
 
 But Earth with tender jealous care 
 
 Enwraps her children still, 
 Lest aught in that sublimer air 
 
 Should nurture subtle ill ; 
 For pride may grow, and love depart, 
 'Mid tumult of the swelling heart. 
 
ON NEW YEAR'S EVE, 1887. 83 
 
 So now I draw the curtain o'er 
 
 The star-bespangled skies, 
 Nor labour longer to explore 
 
 The world's wide mysteries ; 
 While thoughts of friends, in pleasant train, 
 Shed healing influence on the brain. 
 
 Kind eyes look on me through the dark, 
 
 Kind deeds are done again ; 
 I hear the silent voice, and mark 
 
 The long-forgotten strain ; 
 Quaint sayings uttered long ago, 
 Sweet offices that solaced woe. 
 
 Though parted far by land or wave, 
 
 Each several guest is here ; 
 Time hinders not, nor yet the grave ; 
 
 Full is the living sphere. 
 Then by their guardian presence blest 
 My senses sink in slumber's rest. 
 
 62 
 
[8 4 ] 
 
 A SONNET. 
 
 WHAT gentle glow of converse deep or gay 
 
 Shone round them in the years that are no 
 more, 
 
 My father's sisters ; whether by the shore 
 Of meadowy Trent, or city's peopled way ; 
 Three now are gone, one here abides to-day. 
 
 Dear sole survivor of the happy four, 
 
 On you the rest conjoin their lights, and pour 
 Upon your eighty years their mellow ray ; 
 While for the younger race there open lies 
 
 Your common hearth, affection's welcome true ; 
 And all our childish olden memories 
 
 Can find their visible centre still in you ; 
 As some tall hill, that meets the azure skies, 
 
 Gives tone and point to all the lower view. 
 
[8 5 ] 
 
 BONAMY PRICE: 
 
 BORN MAY 22, 1807; DIED JANUARY 8, l888. 
 
 WHO that beheld and knew thee, but would fain 
 Preserve thy image for the coming race ? 
 The prompt, quick mien ; the vivid mobile face ; 
 
 Broad brow, firm lip ; the invigorating strain 
 
 Of converse ; argument that ne'er would gain 
 A point unfairly ; tales that ran apace, 
 Not scant nor overfull ; the softer grace 
 
 And tenderer manner, growing with life's wane. 
 
 Children would fly yet seek thee, half dismayed, 
 But wholly mirthful ; every living thing 
 Felt thy electric presence, and was stirred. 
 
 Now all thy cares, thy thoughts, with God are 
 laid 
 
 In silent peace, till thy eternal spring 
 
 Blossoms at bidding of our Father's word. 
 
[86] 
 
 AN ELEGY. 
 
 SWEET mistress of the ivory keys, 
 That ope the gates where Music dwells, 
 What sighs, what tears are these, 
 Wrung from the heart's torn cells 
 Of those who round thee wait 
 All desolate ? 
 
 How oft thy hands awoke with power 
 Each master from his mighty rest ! 
 Alas, in this sad hour 
 The blossom lies unpressed 
 Which thy pale fingers hold 
 Senseless and cold. 
 
 How oft erewhile, thy spirit meeting, 
 Beethoven swept in flight of fire 
 Downward ; or Handel beating 
 Time for the angels' choir 
 Grafted his strong and free 
 Utterance in thee ; 
 
AN ELEGY 87 
 
 Or Schubert breathed on thee his spell, 
 And taught thee so the luring lay, 
 It seemed our footsteps fell 
 On an enchanted way, 
 And very Paradise 
 Before our eyes 
 
 Trembled, as thou didst softly close ; 
 And heaven and earth together blent 
 In one divine repose, 
 Which now is rudely rent, 
 And our glad vision flown, 
 Since thou art gone. 
 
 Ah yet, ev'n yet, 'tis not in vain, 
 Dear only sister, what we heard 
 In that prophetic strain ; 
 The deeps unknown were stirred 
 When thou wert ta'en away 
 From mortal clay ; 
 
88 AN ELEGY 
 
 And for more comfort in our care 
 
 Death struck thee with swift flying dart 
 As thou wert risen from prayer 
 What time thy constant heart 
 With glow of things eterne 
 Did inly burn ; 
 
 That so thy passage might not be 
 To something alien, but the spark 
 Which here was fed in thee 
 Might kindle all thy dark 
 With sudden overflow 
 Quelling thy woe ; 
 
 And that each tangling veil of earth 
 Might fall away and leave thee clear, 
 'Mid throbbings of new birth, 
 Within that blessed sphere, 
 The true and primal source 
 Of earthly force ; 
 
AN ELEGY 89 
 
 Where happy spirits aye create 
 Order from chaos, life from death, 
 Fair love from fellest hate, 
 Waiting with duteous breath 
 His will, thro' whom their bliss 
 Perfected is. 
 
 Farewell, farewell, whate'er of thee 
 The kindly sacred soil may claim ! 
 The hand, in giving free ; 
 And ah, thy tender frame ; 
 Pure lip, and patient brow, 
 Farewell not thou ; 
 
 For where the holy fount is set, 
 That eye of flesh did never see, 
 From fears delivered, yet 
 May we rejoice with thee ! 
 With pulses thrilling far 
 Past sun and star. 
 
[90] 
 
 TO ALFRED MARSHALL. 
 
 FRIEND deeply skilled and ardent in the lore 
 Of the world's wealth and weal, when yesterday 
 I careless bade your faithful servant say 
 
 Where you had gone, delaying at your door ; 
 
 She told the place, nor let me go, before 
 I wrote it down ; and then I found it lay 
 In that fair vale of Tyrol, where with Cay 
 
 I walked long since, when sunrise glimmered o'er 
 
 Life's early skies ; and since you also knew 
 (As well as I, though not so well as I) 
 
 That passionate pure soul, methought 'twas due 
 To send (while there you dwell and love is nigh) 
 
 Some sign of things seen outwardly by you, 
 By me thro' memory or in prophecy. 
 
TO CHARLES HOPE CAY, WHO DIED 
 YOUNG. 
 
 (See the foregoing Sonnet?) 
 
 FROM Antelao's mighty slope 
 
 A spirit calls to me ; 
 On Civita's embattled cope 
 
 A comrade's shape I see ; 
 
 In Zoldo's glen each blood-red peak 
 
 That flames a sword on high 
 Like heavenly messenger doth speak 
 
 And tells me thou art nigh. 
 
 Friend hidden from these mortal eyes, 
 
 Remember'st thou to-day 
 The olden time, the earthly guise, 
 
 And all our wandering way ? 
 
92 TO CHARLES HOPE CAY 
 
 How oft at morn we scaled the steep, 
 
 At noon beheld below 
 A hundred valleys cradled deep 
 
 Under the crests of snow ; 
 
 How we descended gorge and glade 
 
 Thro' forests loved of yore 
 By Titian, when a boy he played 
 
 With boys in green Cadore ; 
 
 And how when skies were barred with gold 
 
 In deepening twilight clear, 
 We bathed in torrent icy-cold 
 
 Or mountain-shadowed mere. 
 
 The glory of the sunlit earth 
 
 Then drew us each to each, 
 Awaking into trustful birth 
 
 Sweet harmonies of speech ; 
 
 We spoke of men beloved and wise, 
 
 Of women kind and true, 
 Of life, and all the work that lies 
 
 For brain or hand to do. 
 
TO CHARLES HOPE CAY 93 
 
 But now I think a heart like thine 
 
 Moves in the living light 
 Which through the world is poured divine 
 
 In flashings infinite; 
 
 Thou of the chosen ones must be 
 
 Who feel the fount of love 
 That streams with radiant energy 
 
 Into the stars above ; 
 
 Who vivify, exalt, inspire 
 
 From thence our lowly clay ; 
 Come, bring the spark of sacred fire ; 
 
 Come live with me to-day. 
 
[94] 
 
 A TRIAD OF SONNETS. 
 I. 
 
 TO THE REV. T. E. BROWN. 
 (Written just before New Year's Day, 1897.) 
 
 DEAR poet of the isle so sharply set, 
 
 A single jewel, in the crystal deep 
 
 Encircled by four realms, whose people keep 
 Their Celtic fire and antique flavour yet ; 
 This verse of mine will tell I ne'er forget 
 
 Yourself and yours, and gladly by the steep 
 
 Of North Barrule, or where the waters leap 
 In Sulby's glen, would roam with you, and let 
 Your racy converse while away the hours ; 
 
 Still do I hope, although it tarries late, 
 To walk with you through Mona's springtime 
 flowers ! 
 
 But now I waft the wish allowed by Fate ; 
 That this New Year, by Heaven's favouring powers, 
 
 Which finds you brave, will leave you fortunate. 
 
A TRIAD OF SONNETS 95 
 
 II. 
 
 FROM THE REV. T. E. BROWN. 
 (/ answer to preceding Sonnet?) 
 
 Speed on, great Sol, and bid the hours renew 
 
 The diamond-ypaven zodiac ; 
 
 Bid busy zephyrs clear away the rack 
 Of ruined months, let hyacinths be blue 
 Once more, nor any primroses eschew 
 
 The haunts of scented silence, where the black 
 
 Tempestuous North not enters, nor his pack 
 Accursed that yelps, but finds no passage through. 
 Come, Mozley, with the coming of the Spring, 
 
 And catch the breath that hints her presence 
 near. 
 
 Barrule is frowning, but the frown will pass ; 
 Sulby her sweetest song prepares to sing ; 
 
 And I have noted how the waking year 
 
 (For you, unquestioned) stirs in Ballaglass. 
 
96 A TRIAD OF SONNETS 
 
 III. 
 Blindly, dear friend, I wafted wish to you, 
 
 The New Year trembling into birth, that Fate, 
 
 Before its close, would mark you fortunate. 
 Blindly I wrote, and yet the word was true ; 
 Only the meaning which the heathen knew, 
 
 Revealed by God in shadowy Time's far date, 
 
 How death alone brings happiest estate 
 Unto the faithful and the brave, whose due 
 Can ne'er be paid by man, this, this indeed 
 
 I had forgotten. Yes, I came in May ; 
 We walked and talked along the windy mead, 
 
 And through the yellow gorse above the bay ; 
 Such converse comes no more, but is the seed 
 
 Of unimagined fruit some future day. 
 
 [NOTE. The Rev. T. E. Brown, to whom the above 
 sonnet and that on page 94 are addressed, and who is the 
 writer of the one on page 95, is widely known as the 
 author of ' Fo'c'sle Yarns ' and other striking poems, mainly, 
 though not entirely, in the Manx dialect. His force of 
 character, of intellect, and of feeling, made his loss deeply 
 lamented by his friends. He died suddenly on October 29, 
 1897.] 
 
[97] 
 
 PARKGATE ON DEE SANDS. 
 
 JUNE 21, 1893. 
 
 How have we marked thee every lengthening day 
 Of spring, fair sun, down hastening to thy goal, 
 
 Touching the western wave with kindling ray, 
 And nearing eve by eve the northern pole ! 
 
 Would'st thou perchance unfreeze that icy shore, 
 And woo the dead white wastes to live and 
 smile ? 
 
 Ah, no ; to-day thy onward march is o'er ; 
 This eve thou dost descend on Hilbre's isle ; 
 
 And from that limit thou wilt backward go 
 
 With lessening light and narrowing span of 
 hours 
 
 Month after month, until December's snow 
 Covers the sere remains of shrivelled flowers ; 
 
 7 
 
98 PARKGATE ON DEE SANDS 
 
 And then no longer on the sea's broad breast 
 But on the hills of Wales thou wilt decline, 
 
 Far to the South, past Moel Famma's crest, 
 In yonder gap that breaks the rugged line ; 
 
 Shorn of its beams, thy ruddy orb will then 
 Bid us through frosty air a dazed good-night. 
 
 But now thou reignest, and the hearts of men 
 Leap in the warmth and glory of thy might ; 
 
 Now the sea-sands are warm, and we may sit 
 And watch the inflowing tide, that foams and fills 
 
 The winding creeks, o'ertopping bit by bit 
 Dee's tawny couch between the ancient hills ; 
 
 Now with innumerous blossom in the lanes 
 The wild rose glistens ; now the cuckoo's call 
 
 Sounds from the copse, or wood-dove gently plains ; 
 Now boys come out with wicket, bat and ball ; 
 
 Hark to their ringing shout, as some keen stroke 
 Declares the victor in their mimic strife ! 
 
 Who knows what emulous spirit then awoke 
 In aspiration toward the years of life ? 
 
PARKGATE ON DEE SANDS 99 
 
 How in the future it should strive and strain 
 With many labours over land and sea, 
 
 For future bliss despising present pain, 
 And winning fame that shall eternal be ; 
 
 For man lies close unto the root of things, 
 A sacred power is near his least endeavour, 
 
 And what is fed from those eternal springs 
 Has surely praise for ever and for ever. 
 
 Sweet summer ! smiling earth and gracious sky ! 
 
 And ye, fair joys of youth ! what tender light 
 Gathers around you, as the swift years fly, 
 
 Softening the pensive soul at fall of night ; 
 
 The summer night, in whose mid hour serene 
 Twilight shall whisper dawn ; and even so 
 
 Doth mortal Memory fondly forward lean 
 
 And catch from Hope's clear face the deathless 
 glow. 
 
 72 
 
[ 100 ] 
 
 A CHRISTMAS GREETING. 
 
 FROM THE GRIFFIN OF THE CAUCASUS TO THE 
 GRIFFIN* OF PARKGATE. 
 
 START not ! O dear descendant mine ; 
 
 But view with chastened awe, 
 The very founder of thy line ; 
 
 And clasp a friendly claw ! 
 
 Long ere thy valiant beaklet broke 
 
 The egg, or dared to drink 
 (While favouring heaven in thunder spoke) 
 
 Strange pap of printer's ink ; 
 
 I read thy fortunes, shining bright 
 
 In yonder starry fires ; 
 Fair Griffin-child, far be thy flight, 
 
 And worthy of thy sires ! 
 
 * A school magazine, edited by my friend, Mr. A. G. Gren- 
 fell. 
 
A CHRISTMAS GREETING 101 
 
 Noble the mind of Griffin-kind ; 
 
 'Twas I whose mighty wing 
 (As in his verse sublime and terse 
 
 Old yEschylus did sing) 
 
 Upbore the Ocean-god, when he 
 
 Would counsel sage impart 
 To chained Prometheus, and set free 
 
 That wrathful captive heart. 
 
 Beneath my very eyrie hung 
 
 The Titan, sore oppressed ; 
 Above, Mount Elburz skyward flung 
 
 His glacier-streaming crest. 
 
 Spake in that hour the wise immortals 
 
 High in their bowers serene 
 That griffins aye should guard the portals 
 
 Of treasures subterrene ; 
 
 We ope, we close, the golden lot, 
 
 That men may win or fail ; 
 So thou hast read, I doubt it not, 
 
 In many a fairy tale. 
 
102 A CHRISTMAS GREETING 
 
 Now Griffin dear, I prithee hear ; 
 
 Wield thou a puissant pen ; 
 But aye be keen thyself to screen 
 
 From prying eyes of men ; 
 
 And if they ask with sceptic sneer 
 Where thou may'st be to find, 
 
 What hill or valley, glen or mere 
 Shelters our wondrous kind ; 
 
 If they should argue black and blue 
 
 That ne'er a Griffin yet 
 Was ta'en and pastured at the Zoo 
 
 Or on the road was met ; 
 
 If still more bold they should uphold 
 That thou art but a flam, 
 
 Thy lion's paw not worth a straw, 
 Thy eagle-beak a sham ; 
 
 Tell them a better man than they 
 Has better seen and known, 
 
 And proved it all as clear as day, 
 The Sage of Coniston. 
 
A CHRISTMAS GREETING 103 
 
 In ' Modern Painters ' plain it lies, 
 
 Both word and picture too ; 
 The Griffin false he doth despise, 
 
 But lauds the Griffin true. 
 
 True Griffins are we, thou and I ; 
 
 Let's to the hills and play ; 
 Come wheel about, and have a fly ; 
 
 For now 'tis holiday. 
 
 The mountains beckon us and call ; 
 
 Sparkles the sunlit sea ; 
 Great-grandchild, here's to Griffins all ; 
 
 Hurrah ! and three times three. 
 
 DONE AT THE PALACE, 
 MOUNT ELBURZ, 
 
 Christmas, 1893. 
 
[ 104 ] 
 
 TO F. D. ON HER SIXTEENTH 
 BIRTHDAY. 
 
 SWEET sixteen is like the air 
 At seven o'clock in the morning 
 
 Freshly blown from the blossoms fair 
 Some garden-walk adorning ; 
 
 Ere noon 'you may wander o'er vale and hill, 
 
 Or over the deep sublime, 
 But the blossoms' scent will be precious still 
 
 When you think of the early prime. 
 
BY THE RAPIDS OF THE WYE, NEAR 
 BUILTH. 
 
 O TORRENT-RIVER ! bare and sheer 
 
 The crags thy flood confine ; 
 Yet soft the turf beneath us here, 
 
 And fragrant smells the pine. 
 
 Look downward, flowers are strown as stars, 
 
 And clear the glassy deep ; 
 But upward, see, through stony bars 
 
 What thronging eddies sweep, 
 
 What tossing thunders ! you would say 
 
 Yon crested billow seems 
 A wave of ocean gone astray 
 
 Among the woodland streams. 
 
 That were a talisman to stir 
 
 My raptured spirit free ; 
 Dear is that wave to the heart of her 
 
 Who is the soul of me. 
 
[ io6] 
 
 RAPALLO. 
 
 MARY a warrior ? Muse, in worthy verse, 
 I pray, the valour of thy sex rehearse. 
 
 'Twas by Rapallo. There's a rocky horn, 
 
 Which Italy the fair uplifts in scorn 
 
 Of south-west winds, that ply the peaceful wave 
 
 With scandalous advice to rage and rave, 
 
 As bearing some deep grudge, from ancient wrong, 
 
 Against the land of beauty, art, and song. 
 
 Here Porto Fine's little haven lies ; 
 
 And here the conflict gathered in such wise, 
 
 As, after reason's unavailing course, 
 
 Was ended by a woman's stroke of force. 
 
 We sat together looking o'er the bay, 
 
 Windswept and foaming, that beneath us lay ; 
 
 Earth, mighty mother, seemed all loveliness ; 
 
 A beauty's wiles what skill avails to guess ? 
 
RAPALLO 107 
 
 For she who 'gainst high Jove in times of old 
 Launched her Titanic brood of rebel mould, 
 Now 'gainst ourselves poured forth, I know not 
 
 whence, 
 
 A crowd of urchins, clamorous for pence ; 
 ' Soldi !' they cried ; our best Italian we 
 Mustered, and chid their lawless energy. 
 But moral suasion fell on heedless ears ; 
 One ragamuffin, livelier than his peers, 
 And chief in stature, stepped in front of them, 
 Reached out to Mary, grasped her garment's 
 
 hem. 
 
 Like to the Roman in the forum seated, 
 (Doomed yet majestic, haughty though defeated), 
 Who thrilled with wrath, when curious overmuch 
 The victor Gaul profaned him with his touch ; 
 Raising his staff he smote the warrior down ; 
 So Mary, ruffled in her heart and gown, 
 Nor deigning longer such offence to brook, 
 Indignant, fired, her brave umbrella took, 
 Aimed at the caitiff an impetuous blow, 
 And routed with one single thrust the foe ; 
 
io8 RAPALLO 
 
 More lucky than the Roman ! if dismay 
 
 At female prowess seized them, who shall say ? 
 
 Or haply native courtesy awoke ; 
 
 Or haply conscience in their spirits spoke ; 
 
 Or haply from the genuine sign of pain 
 
 New thoughts of prudence came across their brain. 
 
 The urchins vanished, as some Roderick Dhu 
 
 Had bid them sink within the earth anew. 
 
 Not faster pigeons from the cornfield fly, 
 
 When once they see a crazy musket nigh ; 
 
 Not faster clouds, by clearing tempests driven, 
 
 Melt from the azure of the vault of heaven. 
 
[ 109] 
 
 TO MY GODSON. 
 
 CHILD, whose pure angel doth in heaven behold 
 
 Our Father's face for ever, may'st thou still 
 
 Go safe thro' all infirmity and ill 
 Which none can 'scape enclasped in earthly mould ; 
 And chiefly precious 'mong thy treasures hold 
 
 The touch divine, which or sustains thy will 
 
 Or duly chastens ; so shalt thou fulfil 
 Each perfect end, and like a flower unfold 
 Thy tender petals of immortal hue. 
 
 Nor less look back upon that hour of might, 
 Which saw creation rise in strength anew 
 
 Cleansed at the root from ancient deadly blight ; 
 When Calvary's cross upon the mourning few 
 
 Cast thro' profoundest darkness seeds of light. 
 
[no] 
 
 LETTER TO A FRIEND 
 
 WHO HAD TAKEN ORDERS IN THE 
 
 CHURCH OF ENGLAND. 
 
 FRIEND, on whose head were laid the holy hands 
 That joined thee to that ancient reverend line 
 Charged with the duty of those dear commands 
 And sacred feasts, of Christ's great death the 
 
 sign, 
 
 And greater life, which now he lives divine ; 
 Think not I hold my sympathies afar 
 If so it be the settled choice is thine 
 To preach the word beneath their seal, who are 
 The appointed lords of souls, to make their peace 
 or mar : 
 
 Yet forasmuch as thou erewhile hast been 
 Touched with the teaching of these latter days, 
 Whose ardour gathers out of depths unseen, 
 Not by the stated rule of formal ways ; 
 
LETTER TO A FRIEND m 
 
 Ne'er from the tablets of thy soul erase 
 Heaven's mightiest law, that power and love 
 
 await 
 
 (Through all obliquities of earth's dark maze 
 And all traditions ministrant of hate) 
 The brave and loving soul, and crown him soon 
 or late. 
 
 For ask and learn, since history's primal hour, 
 In whom did virtue's keenest essence dwell 
 And touch the nations with immortal power ; 
 First wilt thou find the saints of Israel ; 
 Yet, Greece and Italy, arise and tell 
 What sages in you lived, what heroes died ; 
 Never was miracle, that could excel 
 The saint's, the hero's heart ; the flowing tide 
 Of time rolls on, and still those glorious names 
 abide ; 
 
 But one with deepest passion more than all 
 We cherish ; who explored our human state 
 And bade our life no longer lie in thrall 
 To chance or weak with bufferings of fate ; 
 
ii2 LETTER TO A FRIEND 
 
 Who with the Highest dwelt 'mid desolate 
 Wanderings and loving toils and pangs of 
 
 death, 
 From whence he scattered seed that should 
 
 create 
 
 Plants of eternity, to breathe the breath 
 Of heaven, their native soil Jesus of Nazareth ; 
 
 Him wilt thou ne'er forget ; nor those who 
 
 stand 
 
 Twin pillars in the city of our God, 
 Rivals, not foes, alike in just command, 
 Martyrs whose gentle blood dyed earth's green 
 
 sod, 
 
 Cephas and Paul ; nor many a saint who trod 
 The path of suffering for another's sake, 
 And cheered Christ's fainting flock on some 
 
 drear road ; 
 These wilt thou honour, and from these wilt 
 
 take 
 Deep draughts of patient hope, as from some lucid 
 
 lake. 
 
LETTER TO A FRIEND 113 
 
 Turn yet once more. What presences are these 
 Whose eyes flash anger, and their lips are set, 
 As men who combat mightiest enemies ? 
 Sons of the light are they, although the sweat 
 Of battle, and the warrior's fever-fret 
 Roughen their aspect ; never shall decay 
 Dissolve their memory and our righteous debt ; 
 With powers of eld, usurping boundless sway, 
 They entered mortal fight, and rent the yoke away : 
 
 Luther the one, whose lightning clove the chain, 
 Whereby the tender pulse of piety 
 Mechanic grew and lost the living strain ; 
 But he, the other scarce a saint is he ; 
 And yet he cared for men, and this should be 
 A saintly token ; swift was he to dare ; 
 Forceful not stainless, broad not deep, in free 
 Humour he moved, and filled the quivering air 
 With shafts of scorn and light; how name we him ? 
 Voltaire. 
 
A REPLY TO ONE WHO SAID THAT 
 
 SHE LIKED NOT THE LAST WORD OF 
 
 THE PRECEDING POEM. 
 
 DEAR lips, that gently chid me, when I set 
 Voltaire among the heroes ; not as yet, 
 My child, thou know'st the subtle interchange 
 Of good and ill in man, the mixture strange ; 
 If saints were always saintly, then 'twere base 
 To play the mocker ; but their words of grace 
 Flow from the mingled founts of heaven and earth 
 And in the mixture show the unequal birth ; 
 For blind adorers miss the nobler part, 
 And worship phrases with a senseless heart ; 
 Thus tyrannies are bred ; and myriad fears 
 Assail, perplex, dismay the saddened years. 
 
 Scan history's page ; the record there is plain, 
 How Christ's, our Master's, words were turned to 
 
 bane, 
 
 'Tis good and just to praise that ancient time 
 Of Christian faith the tender-budding prime, 
 
A REPLY 115 
 
 When young and aged, men and women, vied 
 In holy conflict 'gainst the embattled pride 
 Of the world's empire ; who by dying o'ercame 
 Their slayers ; who endured the rack, the flame ; 
 Who never dealt a wound but with the spear 
 Of the invisible spirit, opening clear 
 The heart's sealed ways, and guiding to the light 
 Of stainless heaven and glories infinite. 
 
 But canst thou date the hour that darkened first 
 With fatal change, when men thro' fear reversed 
 Faith's true intent, and deemed that God would 
 
 send 
 
 Stern punishment and sorrows without end 
 On whoso dared to bend his feet astray 
 One tittle from a creed's hard-beaten way ? 
 Ah, then the formal word was throned above 
 The vital warmth of all-creating love ; 
 These two, allied in days of humbler power, 
 Were drawn apart by victory's testing hour ; 
 For while the true queen served (as ever still 
 She serves, for succour and redress of ill), 
 
 8-2 
 
ii6 A REPLY 
 
 The handmaid stretched her sceptre of command 
 
 With haughty mien o'er many a trembling land, 
 
 And gathered to herself shield, sword, and spear, 
 
 And forced submission by a potent fear, 
 
 Narrowing her mercies as the years rolled on, 
 
 Till pagan cruelty grew pale, outdone 
 
 By Christian priest and king ; and though forgot 
 
 Was never quite the blessed priestly lot 
 
 Of helping helpless men, a shadow hung 
 
 O'er every thought, and curbed was every tongue. 
 
 Ye souls, who thirst for righteousness, whose eyes 
 Look for a nobler earth, diviner skies ! 
 Pilgrims who seek eternity's fair field, 
 Where God and Christ and all the just revealed 
 Shall glorious greet each entering guest, and 
 
 pour 
 
 Their strength and love around him evermore ! 
 Cease not your holy search ; but while ye burn, 
 Seek also this, and resolutely learn, 
 Whence came, how grew among you, that sad root 
 Which fed with treacherous sap such bitter fruit. 
 
A REPLY 117 
 
 Voltaire, O Christian souls ! for this was sent, 
 
 To break the slumber of our vain content. 
 
 Whate'er his faults in conduct or in creed, 
 
 He taught a truth whereof the world had need ; 
 
 That cruelty, howe'er begirt with awe 
 
 By conqueror's pride or customary law, 
 
 Or by religion's sacred seeming name, 
 
 Affixes on its doer guilt and shame ; 
 
 And that howe'er the crown of endless life 
 
 Excels the baubles of our earthly strife, 
 
 Yet plain and visible experience still 
 
 Must be to us the test of good or ill ; 
 
 We may be doubtful of the seed when sown ; 
 
 The fruit's true flavour surely shall be known. 
 
 He erred, opposing error ; deep disguise 
 
 Had veiled the truth from truth-pursuing eyes. 
 
 He erred against the strong ; the weak oppressed 
 
 Found him a helper, and their wrongs redressed. 
 
THE EVE OF NASEBY. 
 
 NIGH to Northampton lay encamped the power 
 Which fought for Parliament against the King. 
 Fairfax the chief; but Cromwell o'er the will 
 And conscience of that iron soldiery 
 Held a magnetic force beyond compare. 
 Who from the levels of the east had spurred 
 With twice three hundred horsemen, all athirst 
 To mingle in the battle that drew near. 
 Bareheaded now he sat, his helmet doffed, 
 Beneath the windy heaven of middle June, 
 And conned a map ; then lifting eagle eyes 
 Caught sight, through all the arming throng, of 
 
 one 
 
 Standing afar ; but spoke to one close by ; 
 ' Fetch Roger Cranston hither.' He obeyed. 
 Then Cromwell thus to Roger : ' We have come 
 
THE EVE OF NASEBY 119 
 
 Well timed, thou seest, and God hath prospered 
 
 us. 
 
 No man fell out or lagged in all our ride. 
 Now, Roger, is there work for thee to-day. 
 Thou art of Banbury ; thou know'st the hills, 
 And scattered hamlets, and the miry lanes, 
 'Twixt that and Daventry ; ride and bring us 
 
 news 
 
 If any hitherward from south or west 
 Approach to help the King. Use wary eyes ; 
 Capture, and be not captured ; if thou seest 
 A single trooper, scout, or messenger, 
 Who serves the foe, compel his hand or mouth 
 To yield its secret ; combat not with two, 
 Save at advantage ; question straitly all 
 Who seem as travelled men, or cognisant 
 Of what is passing in the region round. 
 To-night our camp is pitched at Guilsborough ; 
 Be not belated past the midnight hour.' 
 ' Ay, sir, I loiter not,' the youth replied ; 
 ' Is there aught further you would charge me 
 
 with ?' 
 
120 THE EVE OF NASEBY 
 
 Then Cromwell : ' I would ask but this of thee. 
 Is it then so, that none of all thy kin, 
 Saving thyself, hath seen in passing glimpse 
 God's presence, and the lightnings of his power ? 
 How he matures the seed of men to-day, 
 And brings to birth a generation filled 
 With breathings of his Spirit ? I would fain, 
 For love of thee, that others of thy stock 
 Foreknew the judgments which o'erhang the 
 
 earth, 
 The workings of the Highest.' 
 
 ' All of mine,' 
 
 Roger replied, ' are ranked beside the King. 
 My father sits among the councillors 
 At Oxford ; there my mother weeps for me ; 
 The news of which, I do confess, although 
 My will stands firm, yet made me sad all day ; 
 My brothers are with Goring in the west ; 
 They would deride me, should I seek to turn 
 Their purpose in the way that mine is set.' 
 ' Natheless,' said Cromwell, ' if occasion comes, 
 Speak thou conviction from thy heart of hearts, 
 
THE EVE OF NASEBY 121 
 
 And fear not. Hast thou learnt the pass to-day ?' 
 'Ay, sir; a two-edged sword.' ' 'Tis so; the word 
 Hath meaning. Twofold is the stroke of God ; 
 He pierces first the spirit ; then o'ercomes 
 With edge of steel the throne of tyranny, 
 And hews it into faggots for the fire ; 
 Whose burning as a beacon shall o'erblaze 
 The heavens, and light the earth, and teach the 
 
 hearts 
 
 Of many men, and raise the honest poor 
 Out of their trampled state, until their eyes 
 Are purged to look on things divine. But thou 
 Be strong in soul and body ; time is brief ; 
 Hasten ; to-morrow must we match the foe.' 
 And Roger Cranston with uplifted heart 
 Listened, as one on whom the heavens had shone 
 With clearest message ; he saluted then 
 And answered, * Sir, your words remain with me, 
 And shall have fruit.' A gallant youth he seemed; 
 Alert and strongly knit ; not overtall ; 
 Fair-haired, and fair of hue ; of cheerful eye ; 
 Refinement in his lip betokened one 
 
122 THE EVE OF NASEBY 
 
 Sprung of a knightly breed ; and in his mien 
 A something wilful mingled, as of years 
 That had not felt Time's yoke ; yet not inapt 
 Was he to yield to reasoned discipline ; 
 And all within him was exalted now 
 By passion beating toward the infinite 
 Of Justice in the stainless airs of heaven. 
 Hastening he loosened from the stall his steed 
 Which there had stood three hours, and saddling 
 
 him, 
 
 Patted his neck and spoke a cheery word ; 
 Then sword at side and pistol in his belt 
 Mounted and shook the reins and up the slope 
 Southwestward rode. And thus he thought : ' 'Tis 
 
 well 
 
 That I should have a birthday gift to-day ; 
 And there's no gift like trust, by him conferred 
 Whom men most honour. Three and twenty 
 
 years 
 
 Have been accomplished in my life to-day ; 
 I ride unharmed, and taste the good of life ; 
 Yet is the circuit of our days on earth, 
 
THE EVE OF NASEBY 123 
 
 Be it or short or long, a little thing, 
 Compared to that invisible, wherein 
 We secretly are swathed. That still abides 
 In me, and still is mine, although I die. 
 But stay, enough ! of thinking there's no end ; 
 And here's the hilltop ; let me glance around.' 
 So was it as he said. The crowning ridge 
 Gave distant prospect ; far to north a mound 
 Scarred with a recent burning rose distinct 
 In every fold and curve beneath the rays 
 Of mellow afternoon ; and Roger knew 
 The trace of blackened huts where yesterday 
 The royal army in their fitful course 
 Advancing halted, whence they drew again 
 Northward, uncertain whom to fight, whom shun. 
 By Lichboro' then he rode, and where the spire 
 Of Preston Capes o'erlooked the green expanse 
 Of undulating woods ; and whensoe'er 
 He passed by any wayfarer, who seemed 
 To be a traveller from afar, he asked 
 What things were happening in the west and 
 south ; 
 
124 THE EVE OF NASEBY 
 
 Whether with hurried march and energy 
 Proportioned to the greatness of their hope 
 Goring or Berkeley pressed with new-found troops 
 To aid King Charles ; but none could answer 
 
 him ; 
 
 Rumour was rife, but knowledge scant ; howbeit 
 Of Leicester captured all had heard, and drew 
 Augury thence of victory for the King. 
 And Roger felt but spoke not his disdain. 
 Now when he came to Charwelton (where springs 
 The lucid river which by Oxford towers 
 Is mingled with fair Isis) he espied, 
 Just off the road, a rustic hostelry 
 With country bumpkins sitting on a bench 
 Quaffing their ale in front ; so up to these 
 He gently walked his horse and questioned them 
 Even as the rest ; and one of them replied : 
 * Sir, we have heard of nothing, and we wish 
 To hear of nothing. Saving your respect, 
 We had as lief be out of sight of swords.' 
 
 ' The sword shall free you from the sword, my 
 friend,' 
 
THE EVE OF NASEBY 125 
 
 Said Roger ; ' this is needful ; I myself 
 
 Yield not to any man in love of peace ; 
 
 But peace, without the fruits of peace, is nought ; 
 
 Tyranny robs the land, and must be stayed, 
 
 Though for a while men suffer.' ' Ay, I see,' 
 
 The peasant answered circumspectly slow ; 
 
 * You do us good against our proper will ; 
 You give us medicine, though we like it not ; 
 Well, God be with you.' Roger at the word 
 Turned to depart ; but now a harsher voice 
 Broke from the side and checked his ready spur : 
 ' Is this a Cranston speaks of tyranny, 
 Meaning the king ?' A man of soldier mien 
 And fiery eye, but lacking the right arm, 
 
 Stood there ; and quietly the youth replied : 
 
 * Yes, Roger Cranston ; but I know thee not.' 
 
 * Nor know I thee, for thou appear'st a rebel ; 
 Which never yet a Cranston was, God knows.' 
 And saying this, composedly he sat. 
 
 Then Roger scanned him sharply, and replied : 
 ' Fellow, thou dost presume on thy lost arm.' 
 'That arm was shorn away on Edgehill field,' 
 
126 THE EVE OF NASEBY 
 
 Returned the other, ' where thy father joined, 
 Although grey-haired, with more than youthful 
 
 fire ; 
 
 I saw him fight ; such vigour is imbreathed 
 Into the soul by nought but loyalty.' 
 ' Therefore,' retorted Roger, * shalt thou see 
 That I am loyal to the King of kings ; 
 Who also hath ordained his ministers, 
 Generals or captains, in this earth of ours, 
 To set the things aright which suffer wrong 
 Through lawless potentates.' Therewith he paced 
 His steed to where the westward road began ; 
 A mocking cry still pealing from behind : 
 ' A callow youth thou art and ignorant ; 
 Go ; thou wilt find in fight thy match, and more.' 
 And looking o'er his shoulder, once again 
 Did Roger speak : ' That may be so or not ; 
 Your king shall find his match, which counts for 
 
 more.' 
 
 Now at the road's square turn a man went by, 
 In aspect weather-beaten, travel-worn, 
 But shrewd and keen ; a pack upon his back ; 
 
THE EVE OF NASEBY 127 
 
 To whom thus Roger : ' Whence and whither, 
 
 thou?' 
 
 ' From Bromwicham to Buckingham I go ; 
 What would you more ?' ' Hast heard of troops 
 
 that haste 
 
 From Devonshire or Wales to help the King?' 
 * I heard of none ; the land through which I came 
 Since yestermorn was full of gentle peace ; 
 The ploughers ploughed, the mowers mowed, the 
 
 corn 
 
 Stood greenly up along the furrowed field ; 
 On village greens the happy children played, 
 And wives sat knitting by the cottage door ; 
 Birds sang and roses breathed, and sign of war 
 Was none. Yet stay ! I do remember me, 
 At yonder village (Byfield is the name), 
 There rode a single horseman from the south 
 Up to the inn, and questioned there the folk, 
 Whether King Charles, as he had heard, was still 
 Encamped at Daventry ; and they answered him, 
 The King, they knew, had northward drawn 
 again ; 
 
128 THE EVE OF NASEBY 
 
 And then he bade them feed and rest awhile 
 
 His splashed and sweating horse; but sir, me- 
 
 thinks, 
 
 You are for Parliament ?' ' 'Tis so ; proceed.' 
 ' He bore, I guess, a message for the King 
 By word or letter ; could you master him 
 (Armed was he, as yourself) 'tis like your doubt 
 Would be resolved, what help will reach the 
 
 King.' 
 Then Roger cried : ' How long since thou wast 
 
 there ? 
 
 Tell me a mark that I may know him by.' 
 ' Dark grey the horse ; upon his helmet waved 
 An azure plume ; he would have left ere now ; 
 Or so I judge ; and yet, perchance, not long ; 
 Ride onward ; at the meeting of the roads 
 It may be, you will yet encounter him.' 
 Then Roger spoke no other word, but spurred 
 His horse to gallop ; presently he drew 
 Nigh to the meeting of the northward road 
 Lo ! at a speed far swifter than his own 
 A horseman thundered past, his face and garb 
 
THEIEVE OF NASEBY 129 
 
 Hidden behind a leafy hedge, but plain 
 The azure plume that floated high, and plain 
 His charger grey ; then Roger from his belt 
 Drew pistol, tightened rein, took aim, and fired. 
 Reared high the dark-grey charger, screamed, and 
 
 fell 
 
 With crash upon the road. With speed renewed 
 Pressed Roger ; round the angle curving then 
 Sent rapid glance and saw a horseman stand 
 Beside the fallen steed ; but ere he saw, 
 There came a something whizzing by, a graze, 
 A tingle on his cheek, and sense of blood ; 
 Yet thought he not thereon, but rode amain, 
 Till halting, with a sudden gasp he knew 
 His brother. ' Reginald !' he cried ; ' 'tis thou !' 
 ' Ay, Roger, it is I.' ' What dost thou here ?' 
 ' Nay, rather, what dost thou ? this is thy deed.' 
 And Roger looked again, and knew the horse 
 So swift, that he himself in years gone by 
 Had named him Lightning, and the name had 
 
 stood'; 
 
 From his own horse he leaped, and fondled there 
 
 9 
 
130 THE EVE OF NASEBY 
 
 The fallen creature ; * Lightning !' he exclaimed, 
 
 ' Alas that I have slain thee ! Reginald, 
 
 Tis not ourselves who do the deeds we do ; 
 
 We are the instruments of powers that rule 
 
 Our spirits ; yet 'tis pity.' ' Say'st thou so ?' 
 
 Returned the other ; ' 'tis a little thing 
 
 Which makes thy tears in this sad hour o'erflow. 
 
 This poor dumb creature, gallantest of steeds 
 
 That were or shall be in my father's stalls, 
 
 No more his quivering eager flanks shall bear 
 
 My battle, nor his nostrils snort in ire 
 
 Against the rebel van ; thou slewest him, 
 
 And now dost grieve for him ; hast thou no tears 
 
 That thou thy country slay'st ?' And Roger 
 
 looked 
 
 Intently at his brother, and replied : 
 ' Brother, our chance is hard, that here to-day 
 We meet as foes : and if I slew thy horse, 
 Thou earnest little short of slaying me ; 
 Was it within thy mind, I prithee tell, 
 When thou didst pull the trigger even now, 
 That I, thy brother Roger, was the mark ?' 
 
THE EVE OF NASEBY 131 
 
 ' Nay,' Reginald replied, ' I knew thee not. 
 
 My heart is not so hard. Yet hard it is 
 
 Against all solvents of its loyalty. 
 
 Accept just reckoning, Roger ; yield thy horse 
 
 In place of that which thou hast robbed me of.' 
 
 Thus while he spoke, with stately form erect, 
 
 His dark eyes flashed resolve inflexible 
 
 Beneath a tranquil and a lofty brow, 
 
 And rested full on Roger ; who in turn 
 
 Looked equal ardour back and answered him : 
 
 ' Thou know'st thou speakest idly, Reginald. 
 
 I, on my part, now bid thee yield to me 
 
 The message which thou bearest for the King.' 
 
 ' Thou breath'st defiance ?' Reginald cried out ; 
 
 ' Roger, if this be so, there is no help 
 
 But we must fight. Yet would I ask thee first ; 
 
 Regard and judge the cause which thou dost 
 
 spurn ; 
 
 What has the King done so injuriously 
 To thee or thine, that thou must join the crew 
 Of rebels ?' Quickly Roger then replied : 
 ' Is there no thought within thee, Reginald, 
 
 9-2 
 
132 THE EVE OF NASEBY 
 
 Of injuries whereby the common weal 
 May suffer deadly wrong, and I be bound, 
 Albeit unharmed, to aid the suffering part ?' 
 ' Ay, but these wrongs/ said Reginald, ' are oft 
 The cravings of ambition, which rejects 
 Acccustomed rule, that so itself may grow 
 In greatness through the trouble of the times. 
 Tell me what open or what secret wrong 
 The King has done, sufficient to absolve 
 His people from their bond of faithfulness ?' 
 Then Roger spoke : ' I wonder, Reginald, 
 That thou dost ask me. Know'st thou not how 
 
 long- 
 Eleven full years he held this kingdom dumb ? 
 The world was all ablaze, and England lay 
 Inert, because she lacked a Parliament 
 To counsel for th' oppressed. But our good King 
 At home was active ; yet for lawless ends.' 
 Spake Reginald again : ' I wonder too 
 That thou recallest wrongs, if wrongs they were, 
 Righted so long ago. What end shall be 
 Of taking vengeance ? has not StrafTord fallen ? 
 
THE EVE OF NASEBY 133 
 
 And with what pangs of heart our King allowed 
 His death, thou knowest. 'Tis so very long 
 Since Parliament was null or weak, my mind 
 Cannot recall the time. Laud too is slain. 
 What more doth Parliament require as pledge 
 Of their own licence for the years to come ?' 
 ' Nay,' Roger answered, * tell me what shall serve 
 As pledge from such a King, who ne'er has met 
 His people with an open willing heart, 
 Or granted aught without the mute resolve 
 Some day by violence to win it back. 
 Name, if thou canst, a pledge that he will ne'er 
 A second time, as once, with banded swords 
 Pounce down upon the chiefs of Parliament.' 
 Then Reginald : ' If thou wilt reckon up 
 All deeds that go beyond strict bounds of law 
 In such disordered time, thou must accuse 
 Thy boasted Parliament. What law allowed 
 Imprisonment of bishops, whose offence 
 Lay but in urging claims of ancient rights 
 Unquestioned till these days by any man ? 
 Shall liberty of speech belong to none 
 
134 THE EVE OF NASEBY 
 
 Except thy friends ? Such liberty is strange.' 
 ' Thou swervest,' Roger answered, ' from the point 
 Wherein the cause is centred. It may be 
 That Parliament with some severity, 
 In breach of custom, used those reverend men ; 
 Yet in the main by sober law they framed 
 Sequence of action ; but the King esteemed 
 The law as nothing better than his slave, 
 
 Twisting and turning it as seemed him best 
 
 These many years ; or else in last resort 
 He did his will and bade the law go hang ; 
 
 The cases are not equal.' 
 
 Reginald 
 
 Looked at his brother, heaved deep breath, and 
 cried, 
 
 ' Thou art resolved ? is this the end of words ?' 
 
 And laid his hand on hilt of sword. Then thrilled 
 
 Roger all over at such word and act ; 
 
 ' Resolved ? ay, ay,' he answered, doing the like. 
 
 ' Have guard !' cried Reginald. Out flashed their 
 swords ; 
 
 And for a minute's space you scarce could see 
 
THE EVE OF NASEBY 135 
 
 The blades, so fast the dazzle, as they glanced 
 This way and that ; then Reginald's keen thrust 
 Pierced Roger underneath the heart ; who fell ; 
 Yet even at the instant of his fall 
 His arm had swing, and with his sword he clove 
 Sinew and flesh of Reginald's right arm, 
 Whence spurted forth the blood; but Roger's 
 
 wound, 
 The deadlier, gave no sign. 
 
 It chanced, hard by 
 
 There stood a cottage ; and the clamorous sound 
 Of pistol-shots, and voices afterward 
 In stern quick utterance, then the clash of swords, 
 Had brought the housewife to her garden-gate ; 
 Behind her stood a daughter of twelve years ; 
 These watched till Roger fell, and then they ran, 
 And raised his head, and placed it tenderly 
 Upon a little mound of grass that grew 
 Beneath the roadside hedge. But Reginald, 
 Spite of his wound, yet strove on Roger's steed 
 To mount, if so perchance he might fulfil 
 His mission to the King ; but loss of blood 
 
136 THE EVE OF NASEBY 
 
 Had weakened him, and also at his heart 
 A secret pang was clutching inwardly, 
 And once and yet again he called himself 
 Murderer and fratricide ; at last o'ercome 
 In body and in soul, fainting he fell. 
 Then Roger raised himself, and saw the blood 
 That still was welling from his brother's veins, 
 And called to those twain helpers : ' See to him ! 
 For me, ye cannot help me.' With the word 
 Backward he fell again ; the good wife rose 
 And fetched her shears and cut the sleeve away 
 That clogged the wounded arm of Reginald, 
 And with tight bandage stanched the ruddy flow ; 
 The while her daughter with the cool clear wave 
 Fresh from the spring that bubbled up hard by 
 Sprinkled the brow of Roger and his lips, 
 Until, half-raised, and leaning on his arm, 
 He looked around. And Reginald by now 
 Had stood upon his feet ; across the road 
 He slowly came, and sat by Roger's side. 
 ' O Roger, tell me, is thy wound to death ?' 
 ' 'Tis so, I fear,' said Roger, and he laid 
 
THE EVE OF NASEBY 137 
 
 His hand upon his brother's ; who no more 
 Refrained his tears, and thus to speak began : 
 ' O miserable time ! O Roger ! slain ! 
 Yet wilt thou think me but a hypocrite, 
 That I lament and mourn what I have done 
 Thou knowest well what thou hast said but now, 
 'Tis not ourselves who do the deeds we do. 
 We are commanded, and we do the deed 
 It tears our heart to look upon. O yet 
 That thou may'st live ! tell me, if aught there be 
 My hand can do for thy relief this hour, 
 To show I am thy brother !' Roger smiled 
 And whispered ' Water.' Then the little maid 
 Hastened and bore a cup and filled it full 
 Out of the sparkling spring, and Reginald 
 Took it and held it while his brother drank, 
 Until his parching throat grew fresh again ; 
 And then he spoke : ' Accuse not, Reginald, 
 Thyself in any way ; I wounded thee ; 
 I might have slain thee, as thou me hast slain. 
 I fear I shall not live. Perhaps 'tis well ; 
 It might have been, if I had lived, that hate 
 
138 THE EVE OF NASEBY 
 
 Had grown between us in these bitter days. 
 Nor thou, nor any that are dear to me, 
 Will hate me now. And if thou askest more 
 For comfort of thy heart, remember this, 
 Thou once didst save my life, that summer day, 
 When I was bathing in the treacherous sea, 
 Which drew me further and yet further still 
 Into the deep ; I could not win the land 
 By my own strength ; thirteen the years I had, 
 And thou hadst twenty; thou didst plunge and 
 
 swim 
 
 Risking thyself. Moreover, Reginald, 
 Forgive, if I have spoilt the plot for thee. 
 Lo, here come they who will annul it quite.' 
 Ev'n as he spoke, three horsemen from the north, 
 Their chargers sweating and all flecked with foam, 
 Rode up, and Roundhead on each several face 
 Was written plainly. ' Cranston !' one exclaimed. 
 ' Ay, Cranston,' Roger answered, ' but no more, 
 Scoutmaster, like to be of use to you. 
 This is my brother ; use him well, I pray.' 
 Then spoke Scoutmaster Denzil : ' We had heard, 
 
THE EVE OF NASEBY 139 
 
 A half-hour since, through Daventry as we passed, 
 
 Rumour of fighting on this side of us. 
 
 So have we hastened hither.' As he spoke, 
 
 Another trooper of the three descried 
 
 The gleam of hidden writing, where a stroke 
 
 Of Roger's sword had gashed the shoulderbelt 
 
 Of Reginald ; off from his horse he sprang, 
 
 And seized the wounded man (too weak to stay 
 
 Such forceful rush) and with his dagger's point 
 
 Widened the rent, and drew a packet out ; 
 
 Which to his chief he gave ; who opening read 
 
 What there was written, and then briefly spoke : 
 
 * This is from Goring ; he entreats the King 
 
 To hold back fourteen days, and he will press 
 
 In force to aid him. Cranston, you have won 
 
 For us these tidings, and the generals 
 
 Shall know it. We, be sure, will hold not back.' 
 
 Then upon Roger looked he narrowly, 
 
 And spoke again : ' Is this a fatal hurt ?' 
 
 ' I fear 'tis so,' said Roger. Once again 
 
 Spoke the Scoutmaster : ' We will send all help 
 
 From Daventry.' Then to Reginald he turned : 
 
140 THE EVE OF NASEBY 
 
 1 Sir, we must bear you with us, if your faith 
 
 Be not assured to us, that you will serve 
 
 No more in arms against our cause, so long 
 
 As Parliament and King in war contend.' 
 
 ' I am your prisoner,' Reginald replied ; 
 
 ' And save by lawful interchange set free, 
 
 I give the promise you exact of me.' 
 
 ' We may not tarry,' Denzil spoke again ; 
 
 * Cranston, farewell.' And stooping from his 
 
 horse 
 
 He grasped the hand and looked into the eyes 
 Of Roger. ' God be with you !' he exclaimed. 
 ' Amen !' the other answered. Then the three 
 Set spurs and galloped off and vanished o'er 
 The hilltop ; and the brothers were alone. 
 
 That night did Roger Cranston's spirit leave 
 Its mortal tenement, and Reginald, 
 Albeit in pain and fever of his wound, 
 Sat by his side until the end was come ; 
 Few words they spoke, and yet they spoke the 
 words 
 
THE EVE OF NASEBY 141 
 
 Which suited well the hour ; and Reginald, 
 When all was o'er, looked upward at the stars, 
 And thought of mysteries of earth and heaven, 
 Which were and are and shall be evermore. 
 
[I 4 2] 
 
 TO THE AFRIDIS. 
 
 BRAVE foes ! our warriors, battling day and night 
 Against you, with the ne'er-remitting strain 
 Of sinew, nerve, keen eye and watchful brain, 
 
 Through vast drear gorges, 'neath the soaring 
 height 
 
 That woos the stars, in splendour snowy-white 
 Yea, ev'n the spirits of our sacred slain, 
 Whose death has cloven hearts with piercing 
 pain, 
 
 Will not forbid the wish, your stormy might 
 
 One day may help us ! If your faith be named 
 Fanatic, in fanatic faith there lies 
 
 Some promise, or we needs must be ashamed 
 Of our Crusaders. We with sorrowing eyes 
 
 Should see, if they by force alone were tamed, 
 Who by pure counsel might be rendered wise. 
 
 BILLING AND SONS, PRINTERS, GUILDFORD.