THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
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 GOSSAMER AND SNOWDRIFT.
 
 GOSSAMER AND SNOWDRIFT 
 
 THE POSTHUMOUS POEMS 
 
 OF 
 
 CHARLES MACKAY, 
 
 LL.D., F.S.A. 
 
 AUTHOR^OF "the SALAMANDRINE," " EGERIA," "STUDIES FROM THE ANTIQUE, 
 ^ "interludes and undertones," ETC. 
 
 WITH AN INTRODUCTION 
 BY HIS SON 
 ERIC MACKAY, 
 
 Author of '"'^ Love Letters of a VioHiiist.'^ 
 
 GEORGE ALLEN 
 8, BELL YARD, TEMPLE BAR, LONDON 
 
 AND 
 SUNNYSIDE, ORPINGTON 
 
 1890 
 
 \_All rights reserved.^
 
 Printed by Hazell, Watson, & Viney, Ld., London and Aylesburj'.
 
 
 <^ 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 'T^HE name of Charles Mackay is so well known 
 -^ in England and America, and his fame as a 
 poet is so firmly established, that it is scarcely 
 necessary for me to go into the matter at any 
 length. His poetry has the vital glow ; his songs 
 are marked for immortality. They have the 
 glamour of truth about them. And what says 
 Emerson ? "He who writes to his own heart 
 writes to an eternal public." Such was eminently 
 the case with Charles Mackay,— the People's Poet, 
 as he is fondly called by hundreds of thousands, 
 — one who loved Nature and human nature, and 
 wrote of both in clear, outspoken tones, — a lark 
 singing in the dawn of a new day, and having at 
 heart the welfare of humanity. His was a life of 
 labour and much happiness, for he loved work ; 
 and though he suffered in many ways, — as who 
 
 807296
 
 vi INTRODUCTION. 
 
 has not? — he kept his mind erect (if I may so 
 express it) even when, in the end, his body was 
 bent down by age and care ; and he waited without 
 alarm the approach of death, which, taking him 
 as it did on the eve of Christmas Day 1889, left 
 in his place a bright and honoured mcmor}^ dear 
 to England, which, sooner or later, will do him 
 ampler justice, and dear to Scotland, his native 
 country, which inspired some of his noblest verse. 
 
 There are other poets now living amongst us ; 
 but where is Charles Mackay's successor? He 
 was the last of the great song-writers ! Armies 
 have marched to the words of " Cheer, boys> 
 cheer!" and nations, dating from 1848, have 
 found their watchword and their rallying-cry in 
 the "Good Time Coming." The Fifth Continent 
 — as Australia is sometimes called — was peopled, 
 so to speak, at his voice, and empires yet to be 
 will remember the songs which, forty years ago, 
 he w rote for emigrants, songs which for fire and 
 pathos, and clear and ringing patriotism, have 
 few equals in our tongue. 
 
 It is not for me, as Charles Mackay's son, to 
 criticise his numerous works in prose and verse, —
 
 INTRODUCTION. vii 
 
 for some have entered the language as classics ; 
 but I may be allowed to say that, in the opinion 
 of competent judges, his name will live as that of 
 a true anji earnest Singer. He is the Burns of 
 the Nineteenth Century, the Beranger of English 
 literature. And these, his last poems, the proof- 
 sheets of which he did not live to correct, though 
 he arranged their different headings as they are 
 here produced, will assuredly command attention. 
 The lyrics entitled " Life, Death and Immortality" 
 are pregnant with great thoughts, and prove in 
 unmistakable terms how deep was the faith he 
 held, — how little he feared the Death which set 
 him free, — how grand was the future beyond the 
 tomb to which he looked forward with a fixed and 
 radiant gaze, clouded at times by tears, but never 
 by doubt, and always from first to last a seer as 
 well as a poet, who, in his own words, " put on his 
 singing-robes cheerily in the face of heaven and 
 nature " and wore them manfully to the end. 
 
 ERIC MACKAY. 
 
 October i^f/i. 1890.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 PART I. 
 BALLADS AND L YRICS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 At Random Sown ......... 3 
 
 The Great World and the Poet 5 
 
 Epicurus and the Sphinx ....... 7 
 
 My Muses .......... 10 
 
 Odours ........... 12 
 
 The Secret Drawer . . . . . . . -IS 
 
 Good out of Evil . . . ...... 15 
 
 At the Cradle of Robert Burns 17 
 
 The Poet's Hope . . . . . . . . .21 
 
 Twin Sisters . .• . . . . . . . .24 
 
 The Mist and the Storm ....... 26 
 
 A Prediction to be verified . . . . . . -31 
 
 The Old and New Oracles 34 
 
 Perennial Daisies ......... 38 
 
 The Swing on the Apple Tree at Fern Dell • • . 39 
 
 .(Eolian Music 41 
 
 A Thought by the Deep Sea ...... 42 
 
 Three Great Words : Liberty — Equality — Fraternity . . 45 
 A Dream of Fair Occasions ....... 48 
 
 At the Ball and in the Grave 52 
 
 Small, but Great 54 
 
 Our Wants for the Children 55
 
 X 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 In Praise of Discontent 
 
 My Seasonable Visitors 
 
 The Double Life of a Rigid Sabbatarian 
 
 Lines ....... 
 
 The Aftermath 
 
 Hate 
 
 The Statue in the Park at Brussels . 
 
 The Mighty Gun and the Little Pen . 
 
 Spin-song of the Fates 
 
 The Manners of the Age 
 
 A Modern Philosopher .... 
 
 In a Thunderstorm .... 
 
 Blessings in Disguise. — Milton and Beethov 
 The Two Slain Generals 
 On the Place de la Concorde, Paris . 
 Failures ....... 
 
 Three Deceivers ..... 
 
 How Many and How Few . 
 
 The Secret ...... 
 
 Sonnet ....... 
 
 What the Morning Sun said to the Flowers 
 Circles ....... 
 
 Eloge de la Folie ..... 
 
 Popularity ...... 
 
 Killing the Time ..... 
 
 The Old Tree 
 
 Only Straws ! ..... 
 
 Gutterslush : Maker of Parliaments 
 
 Oh fo- a Man ! 
 
 Wealth Untold 
 
 On the Duomo of Milan 
 
 Writing and Publishing 
 
 A New Ballad with an Old Burden . 
 
 A Very Great King .... 
 
 Ancient Errors ..... 
 
 An Appeal to the Preachers of all the Creeds 
 
 A Portrait 
 
 58 
 62 
 
 64 
 66 
 
 67 
 69 
 70 
 
 71 
 
 75 
 77 
 81 
 86 
 88 
 90 
 
 95 
 99 
 
 too 
 102 
 104 
 106 
 107 
 109 
 no 
 
 114 
 116 
 119 
 
 121 
 
 125 
 132 
 
 136 
 141 
 142 
 148 
 
 i;2
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 
 xi 
 
 PAGE 
 
 The True Source of Beauty 157 
 
 Day-Dreams 
 
 
 
 • 159 
 
 An Appeal 
 
 
 
 . 161 
 
 Once on a Time .... 
 
 
 
 . 162 
 
 A Thought : in the Spring Sunshine 
 
 
 
 . 164 
 
 Friendly Disappointment 
 
 
 
 . 165 
 
 The True Christian 
 
 
 
 . 167 
 
 We Dare Not 
 
 
 
 • 171 
 
 PART II. 
 ■* THISTLEDOWN AND HIGHLAND HEATHER. 
 
 To my Old Highland Plaid . 
 Strathnaver no More .... 
 
 Donald Macleod ..... 
 
 When the Clans enjoy their Own again 
 
 The Burial March of King Duncan 
 
 The Canadian Highlander 
 
 An Appeal to the Churches North of the 
 
 Corn Rigs and Barley Rigs . 
 
 The Bonnie Lass tocherless 
 
 Defiance. ...... 
 
 My Bonnie Mary ; on, the Emigrant . 
 He's Ower the Hills .... 
 
 The Barley Miller 
 
 My Heart's in the Highlands 
 
 Lord Ronald ; and the Two Great Chests 
 
 "Good Night, and Joy be wi' you a'!" 
 
 . 
 
 
 17s 
 
 
 
 178 
 
 
 
 182 
 
 
 
 188 
 
 
 
 190 
 
 
 
 194 
 
 Tweed 
 
 
 198 
 
 . 
 
 
 200 
 
 
 
 202 
 
 • 
 
 
 203 
 
 
 
 204 
 
 
 • 
 
 206 
 
 , 
 
 
 208 
 
 
 
 210 
 
 
 
 212 
 
 . 
 
 
 220 
 
 PART III. 
 
 LIFE, DEATH, AND IMMORTALITY. 
 
 Time and Eternity 
 Two Studies of Death 
 
 223 
 224
 
 xu 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 I'AUE 
 
 Nothing More 227 
 
 The River and the Sea 228 
 
 Living and Dying 230 
 
 The Little Chink 231 
 
 Can This be All ? 233 
 
 Divine Ananke .....•••• 237 
 
 In the Elmer Woods 239 
 
 The Good of It 241 
 
 Life's Little Day 243 
 
 Immortality 246 
 
 Euthanasia 247 
 
 A Moth and a Man 248 
 
 In Prospect of Death 250 
 
 Incomprehensible Finitude 252 
 
 Two Mighty Sisters 253 
 
 Bondage ■ • • 256 
 
 An Invocation and an Aspiration 257 
 
 Little Greatness 258 
 
 A Grave 259 
 
 Body and Soul 260 
 
 Life 262 
 
 Amrita 264 
 
 The Lost Me , . . 266 
 
 The Day's March ......... 269 
 
 The Joys of Seventy 273 
 
 Nirvana 275 
 
 La Belle Morte . . .278 
 
 The Soul hovering over the Body takes Joyous Leave . 280 
 On the Death of a Great Man . ... . • .283 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 CHARLES MAC KAY'S LAST POEM. 
 My Wife's a Winsome Wee Thing .... 
 
 285
 
 
 PART I. 
 
 BALLADS AND LYRICS.
 
 AT RANDOM SOWN. 
 
 I SCATTERED my rhymes on the barren groimd, 
 
 Nought was its barrenness to me ; 
 Or cast them adrift on the vagrant winds, 
 
 And the stormy billows of the sea. 
 I never cared, or sought to know. 
 
 Whether like fruitful seeds they grew. 
 Whether they perished as soon as born. 
 
 Or faded away like the morning dew ; 
 Whether men heeded them or despised ; — 
 
 For the light must shine, the lark must sing, 
 And the rose unfold its blushing buds 
 
 To the warm embraces of the spring. 
 
 And yet, though careless as the flowers 
 That shed their odours on the air, 
 
 I dreamed a dream that grew to a hope. 
 That as the thistledown might bear 
 
 A living germ in its small balloon. 
 Some of my fancies, robed in rhyme.
 
 BALLADS AND LYRLCS. 
 
 Might fall perchance upon fruitful soil. 
 
 And root and ripen in their time, — 
 Ripen in hearts as yet unborn, 
 
 To strengthen the weak, console the poor, 
 To cheer the brave in their conquering march, 
 
 And teach the wretched to endure. 
 Life's hard battle permits no truce, 
 
 And every age needs warriors strong ; 
 And even a Rhyme may pierce like a sword 
 
 The armour that protects the wrong !
 
 THE GREAT WORLD AND THE POET. 
 
 ' At God's great table is there room for me ? " 
 Enquired the Poet, in his youthful glee : 
 "i'm strong of purpose, and content to toil, 
 But cannot spin, or weave, or delve the soil ; 
 I have no knowledge of the ' bought ' or ' sold/ 
 And cannot barter honesty for gold ! 
 I can do nothing, — but, like bird on spray. 
 Or lark that soars to hail the dawning day, 
 Or tender nightingale that all night long 
 Pours to the listening world its rapturous song, 
 'Tis mine to sing, with earnest voice and clear, 
 My songs of hope and joy for men to hear, 
 Until their hearts throb, and their eyes illume ; — 
 At God's great table, tell me is there room ? " 
 The Great World answered, "All the seats are 
 taken — 
 Not one is void, or like to be forsaken ; 
 The fighters, and the doers, and the traders, 
 Fill them all up, and suffer no invaders ;
 
 6 BALLADS AND LYRICS. 
 
 But thou canst take thy choice, and watch, and wait 
 For falling crumbs that haply, soon or late, 
 May be thy dole in the distressful hour 
 When strength should fail and sorrows overpower ; 
 Why shouldst thou murmur ? If it give thee 
 
 pleasure 
 To ease thy heart in thy melodious measure. 
 And charm the nations, thou art overpaid 
 In the enjoyment thou thyself hast made, — 
 I need thee not, and cannot give thee gold. 
 Poets were many in the days of old, 
 And these suffice me. Great is thy reward 
 If far Futurity shall hail thee ' Bard 1' 
 And carve thy name on the recording stone. 
 To make thy virtues and thy merits known. 
 So shall admiring crowds, as yet unborn. 
 Wipe out remembrance of the bygone scorn. 
 And yield their useless homage at thy tomb : " 
 Sing on, O Poet, — and accept thy doom !
 
 7 
 
 EPICURUS AND THE SPHINX. 
 
 I. 
 
 Oh, melancholy Sphinx ! the haunting glare 
 
 Of thy stone eyes 
 Vexes my soul, and goads me to despair 
 
 With mysteries 
 Too deeply hidden in the vast unknown 
 For narrow Reason, on her doubtful throne, 
 
 To probe and scan. 
 Why ask me to declare what Nature is. 
 And why God fashioned for their bale or bliss 
 
 The Earth and Man ? 
 
 II. 
 And why the Evil which we feel and see 
 
 In Nature's scheme 
 Should be- a fact in cruel Destiny, 
 
 And not a dream ? 
 And why it should, since Time's perplexing birth, 
 Over our lovely and prolific Earth 
 
 Its shadow cast,
 
 8 BALLADS AND LYRICS. 
 
 And track the populous planets on their way, 
 Lord of the Present and the Future day, 
 
 As of the Past? 
 III. 
 Why should I strive to see the reason why, 
 
 Through narrow chinks ? 
 Dark are thy riddles, and beyond reply, 
 
 Oh, torturing Sphinx ! 
 If Good for ever is at war with 111, 
 And Good is God's unconquerable will, 
 
 I'll seek no more 
 To solve the mystery of His design, 
 Beyond the scope of reason to define, 
 
 On Time's dark shore. 
 
 IV. 
 
 I am — I think — I love; and while I live 
 
 And it is Day, 
 I will enjoy the blessings it can give 
 
 While yet I may. 
 Joy breathes around me in the wholesome air ; 
 All Nature smiles : the Universe is fair 
 
 With heavenly light ; — 
 For me, the sun downpours its rays of gold. 
 The rivers roll, and all the flowers unfold 
 
 Their blossoms bright.
 
 EPICURUS AND THE SPHINX. 9 
 
 V. 
 
 For me the stars the eloquent sky illume ; 
 
 For me the Spring 
 Inspires with love and joy and fruitful bloom 
 
 Each living thing ; 
 For me the grapes grow mellow on the stalk ; 
 For me wit sparkles and old sages talk 
 
 Of noble deeds ; 
 The blythe lark carols in the light of morn ; 
 The reapers mow the golden-bearded corn 
 
 To serve my needs. 
 
 VI. 
 
 For me the vintage sparkles in the bowl, 
 
 And woman's wiles, 
 Sweet as herself, invade my heart and soul, 
 
 That love her smiles. 
 Oh, Sphinx ! thy riddles shut the da3'light out, 
 Faith is the anchor of the true devout, 
 
 And Hope their guide ; 
 And when my last hour comes, may every friend 
 Say 1 lived bravely till the destined end — 
 
 And bravely died !
 
 10 BALLADS AND LYRICS. 
 
 MY MUSES. 
 
 I CANNOT think apart 
 
 From the mountain and the sea, 
 From the dew upon the grass, 
 
 From the daisy on the lea, 
 From the forest leaves that whisper 
 
 Where the wild wind passes by, 
 From the clouds that float like ships 
 
 On the ocean of the sky, 
 From the stars that gem the darkness 
 
 Of the deep eternal blue, 
 From the foam-crests of the billows 
 
 And the dip of the sea-mew, 
 From the prattle of the children, 
 
 From the look that understands, 
 From the smile of true affection. 
 
 From the grasp of friendly hands. 
 From the peal of happy laughter, 
 
 From the sympathy of tears.
 
 AfV MUSES. I I 
 
 From the solitude that teaches, 
 From society that cheers. 
 
 All nature is my comrade, 
 
 My teacher and my friend ; 
 My best of boon companions, 
 
 To give, to share, to lend : 
 It feeds my heart and spirit 
 
 Whenever I would write. 
 And guides me and inspires me 
 
 In all that I indite. 
 
 Idle the song or poem 
 
 May seem to sordid men ; 
 
 But Heart is in my meaning, 
 And Love is in my pen !
 
 12 BALLADS AND LYRICS. 
 
 ODOURS. 
 
 Crush me, proud world ! as Beauty crushes 
 
 The floweret that adorns her breast, 
 And breathes the balmy scent that gushes 
 
 From the fair petals she has press'd ; 
 Yes ! crush me, if 'tis Fate's decree ; 
 
 Perchance the odours that exhale 
 At Sorrow's heavy hand may be 
 
 Refreshing to the wayward gale ; 
 And footsore travellers passing by 
 
 May breathe and bless me in a sigh !
 
 13 
 
 THE SECRET DRAWER. 
 
 In idle mood I touched the springs 
 
 That opened wide the secret drawer, 
 To gaze on half forgotten things 
 
 That waked the memories of yore, — 
 Small scraps of letters loosely tied 
 
 With silken bands of faded blue. 
 Containing words of love and pride 
 
 Wrung from my heart when life was new ; 
 
 A lock of radiant golden hair 
 
 That once adorned a glorious head 
 Of a young angel, heavenly fair, 
 
 And long since numbered with the dead ; 
 A dark brown tress — the sole remains 
 
 Of a brave woman lost and gone. 
 The partner of my joys and pains, 
 
 Whose smile made sunlight where it shone. 
 
 I sighed, I kissed them like a fool — 
 Although perhaps the fool was wise
 
 14 BALLADS AND LYRICS. 
 
 With wisdom learned in sorrow's school — 
 Who saw the truth through all disguise. 
 
 And taking counsel with my thought, 
 I asked myself, 'mid haze of tears. 
 
 Why these fond relics, fancy-fraught, 
 
 Should live beyond my span of years ?— 
 
 Live with their tale of thought or deed. 
 
 For merchandise in scandal's mart. 
 To satisfy the clamorous greed 
 
 Of scribblers who dissect my heart. 
 When I lie slumbering in the mould, 
 
 Unweeting of Fame's noisy blast, 
 And sell for miserable gold 
 
 The sacred secrets of the past ? 
 
 To build romances from my life, 
 
 Or weave the lies that seem like truth. 
 From shadows of long-ended strife 
 
 And unknown agonies of youth ? 
 Take them, ye flames ! such fate is best ; 
 
 All but the locks of hair I crave 
 To wear upon my living breast. 
 
 And perish with me in' the grave !
 
 15 
 
 GOOD OUT OF EVIL. 
 
 I THANK thee, O mine enemy ! 
 
 • For spiteful word and thought, 
 For arrowy scorn of mahce born, 
 
 And harm thou wouldst have wrought ; 
 For by no merit of thine own, 
 
 Or power to do me ill. 
 The words that from thy hps have flown 
 
 Have falsified thy will. 
 
 ■, * 
 Thy thoughts that would have done me wrong 
 
 Fate read in kindlier mood. 
 And seeming evils turned ere long 
 
 To unexpected good ; 
 The drop of poison in the bowl 
 
 Became a sweetness rare. 
 As clouds when riven, leave light in heaven 
 
 And healing in the air.
 
 1 6 BALLADS AND LYRICS. 
 
 Thy hand impelled with deadly force 
 
 The missiles of thy hate, 
 But pitying Heaven descried their course 
 
 And winged the bolts of Fate : 
 Thou wert mine enemy, God wot. 
 
 But in the blessed end, 
 Each shaft at pitiless random shot 
 
 "Was guided by a friend !
 
 17 
 
 AT THE 'CRADLE OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 The First Angel. 
 
 Beside the cradle where the infant slept 
 
 A ptnsive Angel sat — love in her mind, 
 
 And heavenly pity. Mournful watch she kept, 
 
 And sighed to think what Destiny designed 
 
 For this small morsel of humanity 
 
 That lay before her in unconscious rest, 
 
 A vernal blossom opening timidly 
 
 Its tender leaflets to the fostering west. 
 
 Unheeding of the swift approaching doom 
 
 That hovered o'er it in the stormy day 
 
 Of coming manhood, dark with lurid gloom. 
 
 " Unhappy boy ! " she said. " On life's rough way. 
 
 Endowed with passions wild and judgment strong. 
 
 To keep thee right or lead thy steps astray — 
 
 Ever at war in thy tumultuous heart, 
 
 Conquerors neither I but they'll struggle long 
 
 To doubtful issues 'twixt the right and wrong. 
 
 And tempt thee to forsake the nobler part.
 
 1 8 BALLADS AND LYRICS. 
 
 Cold grinding Poverty shall watch the fray 
 
 And gnaw thy vitals till thy dying day, 
 
 With all its cruel and debasing train 
 
 Of mental torture and perennial pain ; 
 
 But thou shalt rise the victor o'er them all, 
 
 Lord of thy destiny, whate'er befall, 
 
 And stand erect in Fate's supremest hour, 
 
 Defying fortune and its utmost power 
 
 To quench thy proud, unyielding self-control. 
 
 Or humble thy pre-eminence of soul. 
 
 Great shall thy sorrows and thy sufferings be. 
 
 And short the span of life thy years shall see ; 
 
 But in that little span, with strength innate. 
 
 Thou shalt confront unmoved the hardest fate, 
 
 And write thy name on the historic page, 
 
 Poet and wit and marvel of the age ; 
 
 And dying leave thy memory to the crowd 
 
 Of all the * unco guid ' and pious proud, 
 
 Who'll scorn and scoff at, as beyond their ken, 
 
 The humble ploughman, born a king of men ; 
 
 They'll note thy vices with a saintly groan, 
 
 But draw a veil discreetly o'er their own ! "
 
 AT THE CRADLE OF ROBERT BURNS. 1 9 
 
 Second Angel. 
 
 " Auspicious babe ! " the second Angel said, 
 
 " I see the rays of glory round thy head, 
 
 And hear the unborn multitudes acclaim 
 
 In Earth's remotest climes thy honoured name ! 
 
 Fojlorn and sad thy path through life may be, 
 
 But high renown shall gild thy memory : 
 
 Thy words shall charm, ennoble and inspire, 
 
 And warm the popular heart with patriot fire, 
 
 And teach the poorest drudge that Fortune's ban 
 
 Cannot degrade the bravely honest man, — 
 
 And that the proud who owe their rank and state 
 
 To royal favour are but meanly great 
 
 If their nobility \n deed and word 
 
 Be not inherent in the rank conferr'd, — 
 
 And that a vulgar self-sufficient churl 
 
 May call himself a Marquis, Duke, or Earl, 
 
 And fail to make himself a gentleman. 
 
 Spite of the noble fathers of the clan. 
 
 Who gave him life, though powerless to impart 
 
 Clearness of head and purity of heart ; — 
 
 This shalt thou teach in language terse and strong. 
 
 Enshrined for ever in immortal song
 
 20 BALLADS AND LYRICS. 
 
 Sung by the teeming nations yet to be 
 In lands where now the savage wanders free, 
 But where thy gallant countrymen shall roam 
 In countless multitudes to find a home, 
 Where every man shall feel that he's a man ; 
 ' A man for a' that ' in the social plan ! 
 And happy millions shall in pride combine 
 To vaunt themselves as countrymen of thine — 
 Type of their manhood and their honest worth, 
 Lords of themselves and freemen of the Earth ! "
 
 21 
 
 THE POET'S HOPE. 
 
 I. 
 
 This Age is the age of the Mocker, 
 
 When Reverence droops and dies, 
 And nothing is lovely but money 
 
 And the vice that money buys ; 
 How can I hope for acceptance, 
 
 Singing an earnest song 
 'Mid the roar of derisive trumpets 
 
 Bellowing loud and long ? 
 When clowns out-value sages 
 
 And wisdom sits forlorn, 
 And the lords of the popular humour 
 
 Are apathy and scorn ? 
 
 II. 
 
 How can I hope for listeners, 
 
 When the men who think are few 
 
 If I teach that better than money 
 Is the love of the good and true ?
 
 22 BALLADS AND L.YRICS. 
 
 If I'd cheer the sorrow-stricken 
 
 Beneath the load they bear, 
 Or shed the light of comfort 
 
 On the darkness of despair ? 
 For deaf to the song and the music 
 
 Are the ears of the callous crowd, 
 And the worshippers of Mammon 
 
 Are the selfish and the proud. 
 
 III. 
 C ourage, my heart, and fear not ! 
 
 Nor think thy fate is hard : 
 If to-day refuse to hear thee, 
 
 To-morrow may bring reward ! 
 A steadfast hope inspires thee. 
 
 And shines from the far to be. 
 That a light on thy gravestone shining 
 
 May gild thy memory. 
 That the strong true heart of the people 
 
 May throb to hear thy name. 
 And that tardy recognition 
 
 May blossom into fame ! 
 
 IV. 
 
 But if thy record perish. 
 Foredoomed, maybe, to sink
 
 THE POET'S HOPE. 23 
 
 In the deep sea of Oblivion 
 
 Wave-washed from the shelving brink, 
 Thy thoughts in the bright hereafter 
 
 In the people's heart may glow, 
 Refining and consoling 
 
 Alike in their joy or woe. 
 No truth, if great and worthy, 
 
 Was ever taught in vain. 
 But shines in eternal sunshine, 
 
 Or dies but to live again !
 
 24 BALLADS AND LYRLCS. 
 
 TWIN SISTERS. 
 
 In the same moment of that pitiless time 
 
 When earth first made its circuit round the sun, 
 
 Two sisters, diiiterent in mind and face, 
 
 Were born into the world ; and they were twins, 
 
 Inseparable, but hostile each to each. 
 
 Never since then, through long millenniums pass'd, 
 
 Have they been parted ; never shall they part, 
 
 Save for the breathing space that Fate allows 
 
 To the sped arrow ere it reach its mark. 
 
 As long as kings and wicked men enact 
 
 The fearful tragedies that scare the world 
 
 And plague it with untold calamities. 
 
 The elder has a smile upon her lips 
 And a bright sparkle in her covetous eyes. 
 And only lives for base and animal joys ; 
 The younger has a face serene and sad, 
 Furrowed at times with melancholy wrath. 
 And only lives for duty to be done.
 
 TWIN SISTERS. 25 
 
 They sleep together in the selfsame bed, 
 They eat together at the selfsame board, 
 And walk together on the selfsame road ; 
 But their minds differ, and their purposes 
 Are as divergent as the night and day, 
 The heat and cold — the wrong way and the right. 
 
 The joyous elder-born seeks not to know 
 What her sad sister thinks or plans or acts. 
 Or cares to recognise that she exists 
 In closest kinship with her heedless self. 
 But goes upon her way and works her will, 
 Unconscious of the footfall in the rear 
 Of her who follows, watchful and alert. 
 Close as her shadow. But the younger-born, 
 Stern and relentless, with a stony heart 
 Where awful Justice sits as on a throne, 
 Bides patiently her time — and then she strikes 
 With blow unerring as the bolts of Heaven : 
 The one is Crime, the other Punishment.
 
 26 BALLADS AND LYRICS. 
 
 THE MIST AND THE STORM. 
 
 r. 
 
 Mist and cloud and humid vapours 
 
 Lie upon the souls of men, 
 Dull and stifling exhalations 
 
 Rising from a stagnant fen. 
 Sunshine seldom cheers their eyesight, 
 
 Earthwards bending evermore, 
 Prying into filthy gutters 
 
 For the gold that they adore : 
 
 II. 
 
 Gold which purchases the pleasures 
 
 Their degraded nature craves — 
 Homage, mastery and dominion 
 
 Over needier fools and knaves. 
 Power and leisure for enjoyment 
 
 In the enervating stye 
 Where the sensual self-indulgers 
 
 Grunt and wallow till they die !
 
 THE MIST AND THE STORM. 2/ 
 
 III. 
 
 In the murky mist their reason 
 
 Is absorb'd in low desire, 
 Or if not extinguished wholly, 
 
 Grovels when it should aspire. 
 Deaf to rumblings of the tempest 
 
 Gathering o'er them unaware. 
 That shall burst in hail and thunder 
 
 And disturb and clear the air. 
 
 IV. 
 
 All the brave old-fashioned virtues 
 
 Shrink and shrivel to decay ; 
 Reverence, earnestness and honour 
 
 Dwindle, pine and melt awa3^ 
 Slang usurps the place of language 
 
 Such as men and women spoke 
 In the days when noble England 
 
 Bred and trained a noble folk. 
 
 V. 
 
 Laughter fades into a giggle 
 
 Or the grin of dull buffoons ; 
 Generous thoughts are deemed a folly, 
 
 Love is ridiculed as '^ ^poons.'^
 
 28 BALLADS AND LYRLCS. 
 
 Honest wit is quenched by punning, 
 Wholesome mirth is " ungenteel " ; 
 
 And success is greatly honoured 
 E'en although it lie and steal. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Each inferior brainless creature, 
 
 Simmering in his self-conceit, 
 With the manners of the gutter 
 
 And the jargon of the street. 
 Thinks himself as good — and better 
 
 Than the noble and the great, 
 And by virtue of the suffrage 
 
 Helps to rule and wreck the State. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Liberty and Gold are idols 
 
 Bright and fair to outward view : 
 Liberty for fools to govern 
 
 All the wise and just and true, — 
 Gold to help them to be tyrants 
 
 In humanity's despite, 
 And to buy in cheapest markets 
 
 Wrong that passes off as Right.
 
 THE MIST AND THE STORM. 2g 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Adam Smith out-values Jesus 
 
 In the piety of trade, 
 Uttering truths of greater wisdom 
 
 Than the gospel e'er conveyed. 
 Jesus Christ says, "Love your neighbour;" 
 
 Ti-ade says, " Cheat him if you can. 
 Grind him, crush him and oppress him, — 
 
 That's the method and the plan ! " 
 
 IX. 
 
 This the path that leads to riches, 
 
 All the yavi^ning purse to fill ; 
 Measure scant and weight deficient 
 
 Are the helpers of the till. 
 Poverty's a crime detested 
 
 By the virtuous of To-day ; 
 All the world conspires to shun it, 
 
 Though Hypocrisy gainsay. 
 
 X. 
 
 But the storm of vengeance rumbles 
 
 On the fore-front of the sky ; 
 There is conscience in the people, 
 
 And 'twill waken by-and-by.
 
 30 BALLADS AND LYRLCS. 
 
 Many a noble tower will totter, 
 Many a lofty head lie low, 
 
 Ere the storm has spent its fury ; 
 Woe is coming, sure, if slow ! 
 
 XI. 
 
 Virtue is not dead or buried, 
 
 It shall rouse itself anon ; 
 Truth, though wounded, is immortal. 
 
 And though lagging, marches on ; 
 Sunlight, though obscure or hidden, 
 
 Sheds from heaven its heavenly ray ; 
 Darkness shall not last for ever ; 
 
 Storm shall sweep the fogs away !
 
 31 
 
 A PREDICTION TO BE VERIFIED. 
 
 I. 
 
 Come but one burst of generous alarm, 
 
 'When England's foes combine to do her wrong, 
 
 Then will our stagnant people, dull but strong, 
 
 Rise in their countless multitudes to arm ! 
 
 Determined, self-reliant and blood-warm. 
 
 To guard the freedom we have cherished long ! 
 
 Come but one blast of anger, that inspires 
 
 A noble nation to arise and act 
 
 And guard the heritage intact 
 
 As they received it from their valiant sires ; 
 
 And Britain, mindful of a sacred fact, 
 
 Will keep alive the consecrated fires 
 
 Of wisely ordered Liberty and Right — 
 
 The world's example and its guiding light. 
 
 II. 
 
 Come but the direst storm and stress that Fate 
 Can bring upon us in its darkest hour,
 
 32 BALLADS AND LYRICS. 
 
 Then will the realm awake, however late, 
 From the warm sloth in which we yawn and 
 
 cower. 
 And pass our sordid lives in greed, or mate 
 With animal delights in luxury's bower : 
 Then will the ancient virtues bloom anew, 
 And love of country quench the love of gold ; 
 Then will the mocking spirits that imbue 
 Our daily converse fade like misty cold. 
 When the clear sunshine permeates the blue 
 And men be manly as in the days of old, 
 And scorn the base delights that sink them 
 
 down 
 Into the languid waters where they drown. 
 
 III. 
 
 Peace is a blessing, war may be a curse ; 
 But peace with foul dishonour is a crime, 
 And when it breeds corruption, is far worse 
 Than war's excess, that lasts but for a time. 
 War is but justice, waged in self-defence, 
 And first of duties under. wise control, 
 While peace maintained by coward false pretence 
 Is poison to the body and the soul.
 
 A PREDICTION TO BE VERIFIED. 33 
 
 The soldier fighting in his country's cause, 
 
 The trader gorging a dishonest till, 
 
 Are the two polar points of good and ill. 
 
 The Zenith and the Nadir of our laws : 
 
 Better to perish in heroic fire 
 
 Than wallow swine-like in polluting mire. 

 
 34 BALLADS AI\D LYRICS. 
 
 THE OLD AND NEW ORACLES. 
 
 I. 
 
 The oracles are not dumb, 
 The old responses come 
 Vaguely without control 
 To the inquiring soul 
 That humbly seeks to know 
 How the world-currents flow ; 
 Dodona is not mute, 
 Sounds as of harp and lute 
 Float from the tree-tops high 
 As the wild wind wanders by, 
 And to the mind attunes 
 In melancholy runes 
 The music of the spheres 
 Unheard of mortal ears. 
 
 II. 
 
 The oracles, as of yore. 
 Whisper for evermore
 
 V 
 
 The old and new oracles. 35 
 
 To the sadly questioning brain ; 
 
 Bui not for fever in vain, 
 
 As the fancies of a dream 
 
 That perish ere they gleam. 
 
 In transitory light 
 
 Full on our human sight 
 
 Ever God's angels fly 
 
 Betwixt the earth and sky, 
 
 And cast from their snow-white wings 
 
 The shadows of earthly things. 
 
 III. 
 
 Still do the oracles tell 
 Secrets ineffable 
 To the spirit that would stray 
 Out of the bonds of clay 
 To search into the hidden 
 For knowledge unforbidden, 
 Except to the impure, 
 Unfitted to endure 
 The agony and stress 
 Of too much happiness. 
 
 IV. 
 
 The oracles as of old 
 Have tidings to unfold
 
 36 BALLADS AND LYRICS, 
 
 To the unpresuming wis^, 
 
 Who accept God's mysteries 
 
 Of Life and Love and Death 
 
 With firm enduring faith, 
 
 Who patiently await 
 
 At the sill of the sacred gate 
 
 To hear the anthems pour'd 
 
 In the temple of the Lord, 
 
 And the long-drawn solemn chants 
 
 Of the white-robed hierophants 
 
 Standing before the shrine 
 
 In an ecstasy divine! 
 
 V. 
 
 Faint though the oracles be 
 
 As the sigh of a placid sea, 
 
 Or the glimmer of the dawn 
 
 Ere the veil of night be drawn, 
 
 They carol in the floods. 
 
 They whisper in the woods, 
 
 They smile in the vernal flowers. 
 
 They breathe in the summer bowers, 
 
 They ripple in the streams, 
 
 They flash in the lightning gleams,
 
 THE OLD AND NEW ORACLES. 37 
 
 They shine in the myriad stars 
 
 From all their fiery cars, 
 
 And tell that beneath the sun 
 
 Justice is ever done, 
 
 However cruel and long 
 
 May seem the run of wrong, 
 And that all earth and heaven above 
 Live in God's land of light and love !
 
 BALLADS AND LYRICS. 
 
 PERENNIAL DAISIES. 
 
 The tender blossoms of the Spring 
 Fade ere the Summer birds take wing, 
 The Summer blooms find Autumn tombs ; 
 But hardier daisies, bright and clear. 
 Gleam in the meadows all the year. 
 
 The rose that blossoms red in June, 
 The lily pale as young May moon, 
 They live their day and pass away 
 Before the autumnal tints appear; 
 But daisies blossom all the year. 
 
 The Winter storms may mar our mirth, 
 And with white mantle robe the earth ; 
 But down below the sheltering snow 
 We find the daisies, if we peer, — 
 God bless the darlings of the year !
 
 39 
 
 THE SWING ON THE APPLE TREE 
 AT FERN DELL. 
 
 I. 
 
 , It stands, no beauty, on the lawn, 
 
 Though beautiful to me, 
 The rugged, crooked, gnarly, stunted 
 
 Blossoming apple tree. 
 I love to see it rich with blooms 
 
 As white as the feathery snow, 
 For it ripens thoughts as well as apples 
 
 Out of the long ago ! 
 II. 
 Twelve summers down the gulf of Time — 
 
 It seems but yesterday — - 
 I made a "swing from its sturdiest boughs 
 
 In a morn of merry May ; 
 And from it swung m}^ love, my life. 
 
 In the flush of her sunny youth. 
 And woo'd and won her to be my bride. 
 
 With all her love and truth.
 
 40 BALLADS AND L.YRICS. 
 
 III. 
 And now I swing another as fair, 
 
 Her years are nearly ten ; 
 And she laughs and sings and shouts, "Papa! 
 
 Swing me again ! again 1 ' 
 And I swing her again and kiss her. 
 
 " Don't kick at the stars ! " I cry. 
 And she chuckles with laughter, and says, " 1 will, 
 
 If you'll swing me up as high ! " 
 
 IV. 
 
 Gnarly, crooked, rugged, wrinkled 
 
 Blossoming apple bough ! 
 I do not know in the wide, wide world 
 
 A tree so fair as thou ; 
 Three lives, three loves, three spirits haunt 
 
 Thy boughs, thou beautiful tree ! 
 And thy fruits are the thoughts of bygone days 
 
 That will never return to me !
 
 41 
 
 iEOLIAN MUSIC. 
 
 O'er the loose strings of the ^ohan harp 
 f'loat the wild melodies like straws on streams, — 
 Songs without words, but full of thoughts and 
 meanings. 
 
 Though evanescent all as fancy's dreams ; 
 Songs of soft sadness, as if angels, weeping, 
 Sighed for the woes of hapless humankind. 
 Foredoomed to sorrow and to hopeless error, 
 Perverse and wayward, obstinate and blind. 
 I hear them at my casement, half asleep, 
 And weave them to my fancy as they skim 
 Lightly as breezes o'er a placid deep, 
 And fancy fashions them into a hymn. 
 Half praise and half lament, and melting slowly 
 In happy thought and tender melancholy.
 
 42 BALLADS AND LYRICS. 
 
 A THOUGHT BY THE DEEP SEA. 
 
 I. 
 
 As I sat athinking by the deep, deep sea, 
 
 I wished my thoughts could fly 
 Like autumn seeds, by the wild winds blown, 
 
 To root beneath the sky, 
 Each in the fulness of the time 
 
 To grow into a tree. 
 Under whose branches men might sit 
 
 Happy and wise and free, 
 And war should trouble the earth no more, 
 
 With its guilt and misery ; — 
 
 II. 
 
 For if my dreams could grow into facts, 
 
 They should run o'er the wide world's span, 
 
 And ancient lies that had governed the world 
 Since Time its course began. 
 
 Should fade away in the light of day 
 And cease to darken the mind,
 
 A THOUGHT BY THE DEEP SEA. 43 
 
 Or harden, pervert, and lead astray 
 
 The conscience of mankind ; 
 And hght should pierce through dungeons' doors, 
 
 And open the eyes of the blind. 
 
 III. 
 Lawyers and soldiers should lose their trade 
 
 '* ^ For want of work to be done, 
 And deadly struggles for daily bread 
 
 Should cease beneath the sun ; 
 Food for the hungry should be as free 
 
 As the water and the air, 
 Or the wholesome light of the liberal noon. 
 
 Or the moonlight streaming fair, 
 And the weakest brother, no more forlorn, 
 
 Should have a strong man's share. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Love born of- knowledge should be the guide 
 
 To lead the world aright. 
 And priestcraft should no more obscure 
 
 Religion's holy Light ; 
 Each truth sublime that Jesus taught, 
 
 Rejected or ignored
 
 44 BALLADS AND LYRICS. 
 
 By more than half the teeming world, 
 Despised if not abhorred, 
 
 Should in its heavenly purity 
 Be followed and adored. 
 
 V. 
 
 All this should happen if my thought 
 
 Could shape the world anew, 
 And make mankind forsake the false 
 
 To reverence the true ; 
 But if it be a barren seed, 
 
 And only born to die, 
 And never fated to take root 
 
 Under a favouring sky, 
 My thought is pleasant while it lasts. 
 
 And in its light live I !
 
 45 
 
 THREE GREAT WORDS: 
 
 Liberty — Equality — Fraternity. 
 
 I. 
 
 Let History teach what Liberty has done, 
 As men conceive it, underneath the sun. 
 What shameless deeds of tyranny and wrong 
 Wrought on the weak by mahce of the strong, 
 When Licence, wielder of the sword and flame. 
 Has taken Freedom's desecrated name. 
 And called on Rapine, Anarchy, and War 
 To drive o'er earth her blood-polluted car. 
 Word ! idle word ! which each man understands 
 In his own cause, and aids with heart and hands, 
 But fails to feel when others would proclaim 
 The right to thwart him — though the right's the same. 
 Freedom to think ! Let centuries attest 
 What blood has stained the struggle and the quest 
 To wrench the noblest liberty of all 
 From grasp of priests, and worse than kingly thrall,
 
 46 BALLADS AND LYRIC^. 
 
 The rack, the stake — the agonising death, 
 As Roland witnessed with her dying breath. 
 
 II. 
 Divine Fraternity I 'tis yet unborn. 
 To rule, to guide, to cheer a world forlorn ; 
 In the first dawn of Time's recorded hours 
 When mournful Adam quitted Eden's bowers, 
 And three men only walked the Earth's young sod, 
 Cain killed his brother for the love of God. 
 So in the eternal omnipresent Now, 
 In every region where the Fates allow 
 Men to exist, their frantic hosts combine 
 To slay their fellows for a frontier line, 
 For fancied wrong, for visionary right. 
 And seek no umpire but the arm of Might — 
 Might, sole reliance of the wrath of kings 
 Or wilder mobs, when hate or passion stings 
 To treat all alien peoples as their foes, 
 And rule and ruin all who'd dare oppose. 
 
 III. 
 All men arc equal in the sight of Heaven 
 To sin and suffer and to be forgiven, 
 But not all equal on the teeming Earth, 
 Where Nature stamps diversity at birth,
 
 THREE GREAT WORDS. 47 
 
 Gives this man skill and energy to rule, 
 
 And that but wit enough to be a fool ; 
 
 Gives this man strength to struggle to the end 
 
 And make each doubtful circumstance his friend, 
 
 And that man only weight enough to sink 
 
 In shallow waters on a dangerous brink ! 
 
 Laws may decide all equal in their sight, 
 
 But Fate the master acts in Law's despite : 
 
 It heaves the mountain upward from the plain, 
 
 It crowns with billows the quiescent main. 
 
 And from the crowd that grovels in the mire 
 
 Raises the few and prompts them to aspire 
 
 To seize pre-eminence for good or ill 
 
 And mould the weaker fellows to their will. 
 
 Great are the Words, and worthy to be taught 
 To men and nations to inspire their thought ; — 
 But though they charm the philanthropic mind, 
 They're dreams alone — and cheats of humankind!
 
 48 BALLADS AND LYRICS. 
 
 A DREAM OF FAIR OCCASIONS. 
 
 I. 
 
 In the darkening shades of twilight, 
 
 As I wandered, sore distraught. 
 Griefs and woes of days departed 
 
 Surged unbidden on my thought, 
 Joys and sorrows intermingled 
 
 In the memories of the Past, 
 Fair occasions lost and vanished. 
 
 All too beautiful to last. 
 
 II. 
 Suddenly between my vision 
 And the lurid setting sun 
 I beheld a troop of shadows 
 Dimly rising one by one ; 
 • But though filmy, vague and shapeless. 
 Loose and thin and undefined. 
 Gathering form and seeming substance 
 In the rushing of the wind.
 
 A DREAM OF FAIR OCCASIONS. 49 
 
 III. 
 
 Gradually in human semblance, 
 
 Draped in robes of trailing mist, 
 I could trace their pallid features 
 
 In the moonlight, now uprist ; 
 Silently they fluttered past me, 
 
 Each with warning hand upraised, 
 Long and lank and bare and skinny, 
 
 Pointing at me as I gazed. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Well I knew them ! friends and lovers 
 
 I had scorned in days of yore, 
 Unobservant and ungrateful 
 
 For the blessings that they bore : 
 Blessings, promises and chances 
 
 All by kindly Fortune planned, 
 To be moulded to my purpose 
 
 And be fashioned by my hand. 
 
 V. 
 
 Fortune, fame, dominion, glory. 
 
 Friendship, love, and peace of mind, 
 
 They had brought for my acceptance 
 Had I known what they designed ; 
 
 4
 
 so BALLADS AND LA'RICS. 
 
 But I saw not, and neglected, 
 Heedless 'mid the whirl of life. 
 
 Lured by pleasure, swayed by passion, 
 In the never-ending strife. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Blinded by misleading splendours, 
 
 Prodigal of strength and youth, 
 Late my weary eyes were opened 
 
 To the knowledge of the truth 
 That I'd wasted life's young morning 
 
 And the noontime, past return, 
 Burning up the years and leaving 
 
 Nought but ashes in the urn. 
 
 VII. 
 
 For a moment, as I sadly 
 
 Gazed and wondered, every face 
 Of the pallid ghosts and phantoms 
 
 Seemed to glow with youthful grace, 
 And to woo me to caress them 
 
 As I might in life's young prime 
 Have caressed a radiant maiden, 
 
 My heart's goddess for the time.
 
 A DREAM OF FAIR OCCASIONS. 51 
 
 VIII. 
 
 And I called in plaintive accents, 
 
 " Stay, ye fair ones, stay ! oh, stay, 
 I am wiser, I am better. 
 
 Than in youth's departed day. 
 I have learned from Sorrow's teaching 
 
 Priceless truths too long unknown ; 
 Stay and guide and shape the future, 
 
 O my beautiful ! mine own ! " 
 
 IX. 
 
 Suddenly to gloom relapsing 
 
 And evanishing from sight, 
 They were lost amid the darkness 
 
 Of the melancholy night, 
 And I heard, as they departed. 
 
 Fitful on the winds that bore. 
 Mournful voices, whispering faintly, 
 
 " Lost ! oh, lost for evermore ! "
 
 52 BALLADS AND LYRICS. 
 
 AT THE BALL AND IN THE GRAVE. 
 
 In the Ball-room. 
 
 The spring-time loveliness decays 
 
 Ere the cold autumnal days, 
 
 The petals of the lily 
 
 Fade ere the nights grow chilly, 
 And rose leaves fall before the year is old. 
 Or the gay green turns to russet gold ; 
 And such, alas ! is living beauty's doom, 
 When age creeps over it to blight its bloom. 
 
 In the Grave. 
 
 But the calm beauty of the sacred dead 
 
 Lost to our loving hearts, in life's young prime^ 
 
 Remains for ever in our thought, 
 
 With tenderest recollection fraught. 
 Defiant of the touch of Time, 
 
 Although the hostile seasons pass 
 
 Fond memory's magic glass.
 
 AT THE BALL-ROOM AND IN THE GRAVE. 53 
 
 Preserves the lovely features unimpaired, 
 And adds angelic grace 
 To the belov'd and unforgotten face 
 Prese'rved by Death, though Life would not 
 have spared !
 
 54 BALLADS AND LYRICS. 
 
 SMALL, BUT GREAT. 
 
 One moment in a thousand years, 
 
 One raindrop in the sea, 
 One dewy daisy in the grass. 
 
 One leaf upon the tree. 
 One grain of sand upon the shore, 
 
 And in the awful sky 
 One planet 'mid a million suns 
 
 That gem the galaxy, — 
 Are links in One eternal chain 
 
 That measures Space and Time, 
 The greatest small — ^the smallest great. 
 
 And equally sublime : 
 Thoughts in the infinite Mind of God, 
 
 That knows nor great nor small, 
 Who formed and governs them in Love, 
 
 And sanctifies them all !
 
 55 
 
 OUR WANTS FOR THE CHILDREN. 
 
 I. 
 V What do we want for the children ? 
 We want a nobler race 
 Than ever since the birth of Time 
 Made earth their dwelling-place. 
 Clear brain, fleet foot, strong hand, bright eye, 
 
 And heart and soul and mind, 
 And better lives and higher aims, 
 For suffering humankind. 
 
 « 
 
 II. 
 We want the fresh and flowing streams, 
 
 Not gutters of the town — 
 The acorns of the living oak, 
 
 And not the thistledown ; 
 We want the gold, and not the slag — 
 
 The garden bright and fair, 
 And not the poisonous morass 
 
 And the pestilential air.
 
 56 BALLADS AND LA'RICS. 
 
 in. 
 
 We want the swarming children 
 
 To be well and wisely taught : 
 Not in the book of hostile creeds, 
 
 But in the book of thought; 
 Not only in what mind requires, 
 
 But what the body needs 
 And the State expects if it would rear 
 
 Brave hearts for noble deeds. 
 
 IV. 
 
 All this we want for the children, — 
 
 Self-knowledge wisely planned. 
 And not forlorn theologies 
 
 Too vague to understand ; 
 We want them to be strong and true 
 
 In the holiness of work, 
 To save them from the awful streets 
 
 W^here the crime and the fever lurk. 
 
 V, 
 
 We want still more for the children, — 
 We want them to be born 
 
 Of Love, not Lust that breeds and rots 
 In the festering slums forlorn;
 
 OUR WANTS FOR THE CHILDREN. S7 
 
 We want the fresh and wholesome shoots 
 
 Of the orchard and the vine, 
 And not the stunted undergrowth, 
 
 Or the clover for the kine, 
 
 VI. 
 
 Brave boys, good girls, for the coming years — 
 
 'Tis these that we require, 
 'And these we'll win though we pierce our way 
 
 Through persecuting fire ; 
 And though the triumph may be slow. 
 
 The victory shall be won, 
 For God and man and heaven and earth 
 
 Combine to see it done.
 
 58 BALLADS AND lA'RICS. 
 
 IN PRAISE OF DISCONTENT. 
 
 I. 
 Ever, for ever, without pause 
 
 Or change for better or for worse, 
 Act and react the natural laws 
 
 And forces of the universe ; 
 They fill eternity and space, 
 
 And guide the courses of the stars ; 
 They keep the sun in his appointed place. 
 
 And curb the comets in their cars. 
 Here, on this little crust that men call earth. 
 
 There's not a wind on land or sea 
 In all its rolling girth, 
 
 Or leaf that trembles on the tree. 
 But yields obedience to the laws divine, 
 Which cause the flowers to bloom, the stars 
 to shine. ► 
 
 II. • 
 The laws that regulate the mind 
 And shape the purpose of mankind
 
 IN PRAISE OF DISCONTENT. 59 
 
 Are universal even as they, 
 
 And rule the human will 
 With irresistible sway 
 
 For sfedfast good or transitory ill. 
 Mighty as gravitation, that controls 
 
 The motion of the docile spheres, 
 Are Love and Discontent in human souls 
 
 To stir men's hopes and fears. 
 Tove fills the earth with living multitudes. 
 
 That, but for Discontent, heaven-born. 
 Would roam as naked in the sheltering woods 
 
 As the wild animals forlorn, 
 Heedless as noontide midges on the wing 
 Of coming morrows and the wants they bring ; 
 But Discontent, the tyrant and the friend. 
 Plays its allotted part and destined end, 
 And gives weak man the strength and skill 
 To plough the fields and sow the seed and till 
 For future needs the kindly mother soil 
 That yields the harvests to reward his toil. 
 
 III. 
 
 'Tis Discontent that nerves his arm to slay 
 The ravenous beasts that hunger for their prey,
 
 6o BALLADS AND LYRICS. 
 
 And rob them of their skins for dress 
 
 To cover and adorn his nakedness ; 
 
 'Tis Discontent that guides him to the fold 
 
 For fleece to shield him from the winter cold. 
 
 Without its wholesome aid 
 
 No cities born of civilising trade 
 
 Would gem the land or tempt him to forsake 
 
 The tangled wild-wood or the sheltering brake ; 
 
 No palaces or towers 
 
 Or high cathedrals eloquent in stone 
 Would lift their pinnacles amid the bowers ; 
 
 No pealing organ tone,' 
 Laden with adoration, would be heard 
 
 Competing with the melancholy moan 
 Of waving wood or ocean tempest stirred ; 
 No ships with venturous keel would sail afar 
 
 Freighted with lofty hopes and mingling fears 
 In search of land beneath the southern star 
 
 And undiscovered hemispheres. 
 To be in fulness of the fateful hour 
 The chosen centres of imperial power, 
 The nurseries of Science, Learning, Art, 
 And Piety, Religion's better part, — 
 All this and more, as yet concealed 
 From human sight, however keen its ray,
 
 IN PRAISE OF DISCONTENT. 6 1 
 
 Undreamed of, unimagined, unrevealed, 
 Till the ripe dawn of God's appointed day 
 Shall yet be born of Love and Discontent 
 Shaped to good end, for evil never meant.
 
 62 BALLADS AND LYRICS. 
 
 MY SEASONABLE VISITORS. 
 
 Come, childhood, come ! and banish all my sadness 
 With pleasant laughter, born of artless mirth ; 
 
 Come like the spring-time in its budding gladness, 
 And all the future promise of the earth. 
 
 Come, lusty manhood, looking forward ever ! 
 
 Come like the summer with its golden grain ; 
 Come with the genial sunshine of endeavour. 
 
 With cooling dews and fertilising rain. 
 
 Come with the silver sprinkles in thy hair, 
 
 Thou who art passing westward with the sun ; 
 
 Bring thy autumnal fryitage rich and rare, 
 And ripened vintage of brave duty done. 
 
 Come, venerable age, with wintry head 
 
 Calmly reposing after fitful strife. 
 Far onward on the path that all must tread. 
 
 To the bright gateway of eternal life.
 
 MY SEASONABLE VISITORS. 63 
 
 Come one, come all; ye are welcome to my heart, 
 Whate'er the season of your years may be ; 
 
 Come to my hopeful spirit, and impart 
 
 The warmth and light of human sympathy !
 
 64 BALLADS AND LYRLCS. 
 
 THE DOUBLE LIFE OF A RIGID 
 SABBATARIAN. 
 
 A Portrait. 
 
 He has two souls, two consciences, two creeds, — 
 
 One, seldom used, he keeps for Sunday needs, 
 
 Like his new coat and hat and snow-white shirt. 
 
 Without a stain or speck of visible dirt ; 
 
 The other serves him for his daily rule. 
 
 To keep his footing in the world's hard school. 
 
 And teach him that his pious seventh-day face 
 
 And affectation of religious grace 
 
 Need not restrain him on the other six 
 
 In lies and frauds and Trade's nefarious tricks ; 
 
 And so he strives with all the strength he can 
 
 To cheat in semblance of an {lonest man. 
 
 And thinks it lawful for a knave to fill 
 
 His greedy pockets and rernorseless till 
 
 By means unthought of in his Sunday prayers — 
 
 Short weight, short measure, and adulterate wares !
 
 DOUBLE LIFE OF A RIGID SABBATARIAN. 6^ 
 
 He cares not ! No ! not he ! 'Tis gilded sin. 
 Let losers groan ! — but let those laugh that win ! 
 He is the winner; and when Sundays come 
 Goes thrice 'to church, looks reverently glum, 
 And, humbly kneeling, vows to sin no more ; 
 But Monday sees him as he was before !
 
 66 BALLADS AND LYRICS. 
 
 LINES. 
 
 All the materials are the same, 
 
 Of blackest things and whitest, 
 Carbon and diamonds are but one, 
 And dewdrops glittering in the sun 
 
 Are gems when they are brightest ; 
 Base vinegar and noble wine 
 Are both the children of the vine ; 
 And Love and Hate, if we but knew. 
 Are quite as often one, as two. 
 
 But woe is me ! the bravest things 
 
 Are commonest of any ; 
 Much charcoal may be scattered round, 
 But diamond gems are seldom found. 
 
 Though sought by very many. 
 Love's roses flourish on the tree 
 Where Hatred's thorns grow fresh and free ; 
 The thorns are many to the view. 
 The roses beautiful — but few !
 
 6; 
 
 THE AFTERMATH. 
 
 The first crop has been garnered, 
 
 A crop of hopes and fears, 
 Of ecstasies and transports, 
 
 And passionate sighs and tears. 
 It grew in fields Elysian 
 
 In youth's dehcious day. 
 And filled my hands with fruits and flowers, 
 
 And all the pomps of May. 
 
 The aftermath was richer far 
 
 In gifts of priceless worth, 
 Grown in the fertile places 
 
 Of kindly Mother Earth. 
 It brought divine lulfilment 
 
 To all the hopes of youth, 
 And sympathy in sorrow, 
 
 And never-failing truth. 
 
 The first crop sprang in meadows, 
 With clover for the kine ;
 
 68 BALLADS AND LYRLCS. 
 
 The second was of purple grapes, 
 To yield the noble wine ; 
 
 The little germs of happy love 
 That slumbered in the sod 
 
 Grew into vineyards on the hills, 
 Full in the smile of God !
 
 69 
 
 HATE. 
 
 Didst thou ever say " I hate " 
 
 To any man or small or great ? 
 
 Retract ! retract ! Thou art not wise ! — 
 
 If thou canst hate, disdain, despise 
 
 A child, a woman or a man, 
 
 Thy heart's to blame — thou'rt out of plan ! 
 
 The sunlight falls on high and low. 
 And the rain rains, the rivers flow 
 With bounty ever large and free, 
 For bad and good, for land and sea : 
 Strive to be like them, if thou canst. 
 So shall thy virtues be enhanced. 
 If thou art virtuous, even in part. 
 And pure in purpose as in heart. 
 
 Hate, if thou wilt, the wrong that's wrought. 
 But not the doer, wrongly taught ; 
 And in extremity of ill 
 Remember that he's huiuan still !
 
 70 BALLADS AND LYRICS. 
 
 THE STATUE IN THE PARK AT 
 BRUSSELS. 
 
 There it stands in the mellow moonlight, 
 
 Just as it stood in the long ago, 
 When I was a boy, brimful of fancies 
 
 And passionate thoughts— -Love's overflow ; 
 My trysting-place with a fair young damsel^- 
 
 Of poor estate, I ween, was she ; 
 But a goddess of beauty to my young fancy, 
 
 And now — a light in my memory !
 
 71 
 
 THE MIGHTY GUN AND THE LITTLE PEN. 
 
 Great conqueror Gun and peaceful Pen 
 ^^ Discourse together now and then ; — 
 - Once in a dream, a waking trance, 
 By day or night — by day, perchance — 
 I heard them boasting, each to each. 
 In plain intelligible speech, 
 Of deeds accomplished or begun ; 
 And to my fancy thus spoke Gun : — 
 
 *"Tis I that rule and give the law 
 
 To keep the multitudes in awe ; 
 
 The empires of the world are mine : 
 
 I govern them by right divine, 
 
 The right of strength by Heaven decreed 
 
 To shape the will, to form the deed ; 
 
 'Tis I keep order in the realms 
 
 When civil conflict overwhelms, 
 
 And quench in blood, if needs must be. 
 
 The furious fires of Anarchy ;
 
 72 BALLADS AND LYRICS. 
 
 I lead the nations gone astray 
 Back to the safe appointed way ; 
 I keep within the bound of rules 
 The lust of conquerors and fools, 
 Who'd strew the earth with human bones, 
 On which to build them crazy thrones, 
 Did not a mightier force than theirs 
 Exist behind them unawares. 
 
 Wer't not for me the world would roll 
 Back in the ruts of uncontrol, 
 Without a master or a guide 
 To stem the fierce barbaric tide, 
 When men were wild as beasts of prey, 
 The naked lords of every day, 
 Who took no heed at set of sun 
 Of what the cruel day had done. 
 And on the morrow worked their will. 
 Whether to plunder or to kill, 
 Without a law but might and main, 
 Or any conscience to restrain. 
 I am a tyrant, understand. 
 But rather to be blessed than banned ; 
 For, benefactor in disguise, 
 Where'er I rule I civilise."
 
 THE MIGHTY GUN AND THE LITTLE PEN. 73 
 
 "Thou'rt great, no doubt, when all is done," 
 Said little Pen to mighty Gun ; 
 "Thou'rt lord of how and where and when 
 To shape the destinies of men. 
 But canst not overstep thy part. 
 Or reason with the human heart ; 
 Thou hast thy limits, well defined, 
 Thou'rt not the master of the mind. 
 T, little I, unseen, unheard. 
 Work my own wonders by a word ; 
 I foil obstruction by a thought. 
 And give it wings, with lightnings fraught, 
 To strike the battlements of wrong, 
 And hurl them down, however strong. 
 Thy thunders perish in their birth, 
 Mine make the circuit of the earth, 
 Conversing with the time to come, 
 For ages after thou art dumb. 
 Thou buildest empires huge and high, 
 That flourish for a day and die. 
 And leave nor trace nor heritage, 
 Except a line on history's page, 
 A line, a word, a lie perchance, 
 For idle Rumour to enhance !
 
 74 BALLADS AND LYRICS. 
 
 But I build empires to endure 
 
 On Truth's foundations firm and pure, 
 
 Deep laid in thoughts beyond control, 
 
 And as eternal as the soul. 
 
 In vain thy thunderbolts are hurl'd. 
 
 Thoughts are the rulers of the world. 
 
 And shape the destinies of men, — 
 
 And all mv work ! " said little Pen.
 
 75 
 
 SPIN-SONCx OF THE FATES. 
 
 I. 
 Spinning, ever spinning, 
 
 'Mid the moil and strife ; 
 Spinning, spinning, spinning, — 
 
 Such the law of life. 
 Swaddling clothes for new-born child, 
 Bridal robes for maiden mild, 
 Winding-sheets for Age and Pain — 
 Such the industrious Fates ordain, 
 As they'turn th' eternal wheel. 
 
 With a rush and roar, 
 Spinning, spinning, spinning. 
 
 Spinning evermore. 
 
 II. 
 Spinning, ever spinning, 
 
 Day and night and morrow ; 
 Spinning, spinning, spinning 
 
 Webs of joy and sorrow.
 
 Jd ' BALLADS AND LYRICS. 
 
 Warp and woof and selfsame thread 
 For the hving and the dead. 
 All the patterns in the loom, 
 Deftly drawn by hand of Doom, 
 As revolves th' eternal wheel, 
 
 With a rush and roar ; 
 Spinning, spinning, spinning, 
 
 Spinning evermore !
 
 77 
 
 THE MANNERS OF THE AGE. 
 
 I. 
 
 There's blight on the social harvest !- 
 
 On the women and on the men, 
 Blight on the little children, 
 
 Blight on the tongue and pen ! 
 The blush on the cheek of beauty 
 
 Gives place to a stony stare, 
 And the eyes of the matrons utter 
 
 What the tongue may not declare. 
 
 II. 
 
 Men's ancient courage withers 
 
 In a burning thirst for pelf; 
 And they lose the love of virtue 
 
 In a baseless love of self. 
 The brave deeds of their fathers 
 
 No longer win esteem. 
 And float from dim remembrance 
 
 Like the bubbles on a stream.
 
 yS BALLADS AND LYRICS. 
 
 III. 
 
 The minds of the little children 
 
 Are fed on husks and straws, 
 Or barren stalks of logic, 
 
 And dull scholastic laws ; 
 And they lose the artless credence 
 
 That won our hearts to see, 
 And climb no more confiding 
 
 To the maternal knee. 
 
 IV. 
 
 And mothers neglect to suckle 
 
 The innocent babes they bear, 
 Lest they should lose enjoyment 
 
 In the stalls of Vanity Fair, 
 And hand them over to hirelings 
 
 To drain unnatural milk. 
 While they go flaunting and flirting 
 
 In diamonds and in silk. 
 
 V. * 
 Grown old before their season, 
 
 The striplings lie' and cheat, 
 And talk the slang of the gutter. 
 
 Or scrawl vile words in the street;
 
 THE MANNERS OF THE AGE. 79 
 
 And the little maids learn lessons, 
 
 In the paths where they should not tread, 
 
 Pernicious and untimely, 
 Unfit for heart or head. 
 
 VI, 
 
 The blight of the scanty knowledge 
 
 That fancies it is great, 
 And flatters fools with the notion 
 
 That they can rule the State, 
 Pervades the ignorant many, 
 
 Who think they're wise as the few, 
 And that the false and cowardly 
 
 Should govern the brave and true. 
 
 vn. 
 
 The pens of the ready writers 
 
 Pollute the teeming page 
 With fond and foul descriptions 
 
 Of the vices of the age ; 
 And the pulpits every Sunday 
 
 Denounce the crimes of the poor, 
 But keep discreetly silent 
 
 When wealth is the evildoer.
 
 8o BALLADS AND LYRICS. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 The blight ! the blight ! the blight ! 
 
 It stretches over all ; 
 And the social mildew fastens 
 
 Alike on the great or small, 
 Till the growing corn droops rotten 
 
 In the fields of human thought, 
 And the stubble itself proves worthless, 
 
 And the harvest comes to nought. 
 
 IX. 
 
 Must the blight endure for ever? 
 
 Shall the healthy storm not burst, 
 When the atmosphere grows heavy 
 
 With the vapours it has nursed ? 
 Already the lightning flashes 
 
 On the far horizon's cope, 
 And the coming tempest rumbles ! — - 
 
 We watch ; and wait ; and hope !
 
 8i 
 
 A MODERN PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 I. 
 
 He turns to heaven his dull grey eyes, 
 He opes his mouth in pompous wise, 
 And lets his measured accents fall, 
 Dull, cold and mathematical, 
 While he expounds his theories. 
 
 II. 
 
 He thinks he maps the human heart 
 With all its windings on his chart. 
 And knows, op fancies that he knows, 
 The secret source of all our woes. 
 And the true remedy to start. 
 
 III. 
 He talks of Nature and her laws, 
 Of Man, the Mind, the Great First Cause, 
 Demand, Supply, Life, Death, Increase, 
 The over-fruitfulness of Peace, 
 And argues on them clause by clause. 
 
 6
 
 83 BALLADS AND LYRICS. 
 
 IV. 
 
 He thinks it time if truth were said 
 That mouths too many to be fed 
 Swarm in an over-populous land ; 
 And that a fool might understand 
 That stupid peasants should not wed. 
 
 V. 
 
 He thinks it right that, for the sake 
 Of lands with large domains at stake, 
 The common people should not breed 
 More plenteously than they can feed, 
 And that coition's a mistake. 
 
 VI. 
 
 If vulgar people, boors and clowns. 
 And riff-raff of our teeming towns. 
 Would, when they mate, produce but two. 
 To take their place in season due. 
 Philosophy might spare its frown ! 
 
 VII. 
 
 But, in default of this, he swears 
 
 That none should wed but rich men's heirs, 
 
 And that the common herds of man 
 
 Should eat as little as they can. 
 
 And die unmated in their cares.
 
 A MODERN PHILOSOPHER. 83 
 
 VIII. 
 
 'Tis Lust, he thinks, that rules the earth, 
 And gives its extra milhons birth ; 
 " Is it not strange," he proudly cries, 
 "That I alone should be so wise 
 As to proclaim, for what it's worth, 
 
 IX. 
 
 '-'The mighty truth not taught in schools 
 That half the human race are fools. 
 And that all wisdom dwells with me 
 To save them from their misery. 
 If they'd be governed by my rules ? 
 
 X. 
 
 " Alas ! they grovel in dull ease. 
 And breed like maggots in a cheese, 
 And never learn that war and pest 
 And famine must do God's behest, 
 And stay their perilous increase. 
 
 XI. 
 
 "Great are my plans! I'd loose and bind 
 
 The laws of body and of mind. 
 
 And so restore the golden age 
 
 When war and pest should cease to rage 
 
 And thin the numbers of mankind :
 
 84 BALLADS AND LYRICS. 
 
 XII. 
 
 "When men, and wiser women too, 
 Should curb the passions and subdue ; 
 And calm and temperate and just. 
 Should make it felony to lust, 
 And children should be strong — but few." 
 
 XIII. 
 
 This is his dogma and pretence, 
 The law, he says, of Common Sense ; 
 But yet, with wife and children blest, 
 He breeds for pastime like the rest, 
 And sternly preaches abstinence, 
 
 XIV. 
 
 And prophesies in prose and rhyme 
 The speedy coming of the time 
 When Pestilence in bower and town 
 Shall mow the human harvest down. 
 And War shall cease to be a crime ! 
 
 XV, 
 
 And when, if children of the slum 
 
 In midge-like millions still should come, 
 
 Infanticide should be allowed 
 
 To ease the pressure of the crowd, 
 
 And hasten the Millennium !
 
 A MODERN PHILOSOPHER. 85 
 
 XVI. 
 
 The public hoots him — nought cares he, 
 
 But pities its perversity ; 
 
 Or, swathed in armour of conceit, 
 
 He warns the senate and the street 
 
 For scorning his Philosophy ! 
 
 ■^
 
 S6 BALLADS AND LYRICS. 
 
 IN A THUNDERSTORM. 
 
 Let keen-eyed Science teach us what she can, 
 
 ']"hc vast Incomprehensible confronts us still ; 
 She strives to grope her way through Nature's plan, 
 
 And solve the hidden mysteries at her will. 
 
 Sitting at her window barred. 
 
 She turns her glances, cold and hard. 
 
 Up to the starry vault of heaven, 
 
 And fancies that to her is given 
 
 To pierce the secrets hidden from the ken 
 
 Of the grovelling herd of men ; 
 
 But Intuition tells us more than she. 
 
 In echoes wafted from afar 
 
 Faintly and dimly from the infinity 
 
 In which we float, much wondering where we are ; 
 
 There are more thoughts in Childhood's heart 
 
 Than subtlest Reason can impart, 
 
 Or proud Philosophy explain 
 
 From all the heights it can attain.
 
 IN A THUNDERSTORM. 8/ 
 
 So when the awful thunders crash 
 
 Obedient to the hghtning flash, 
 My childish faith returns ; I deem I hear 
 The voice of God proclaiming from the sphere 
 
 That Retribution follows Crime 
 
 In its due appointed time, 
 Slow and precarious though it seems to be 
 Tx) our weak eyes, that cannot see 
 Beyond the limits of the hour 
 That comes and goes ere we have felt its power 
 To shape to-morrow's purpose through the gloom, 
 That hides the coming certainty of doom. 
 
 There are far deeper lessons in the soul 
 Than Science can presume to teach 
 
 By rule and logical control, 
 
 However loftily they preach. 
 Cling to me, O ye instincts of my youth ! 
 Shadows, it may be, of Eternal Truth !
 
 88 BALLADS AND LYRICS. 
 
 BLESSINGS IN DISGUISE. 
 Milton and Beethoven. 
 
 I. 
 
 Milton sits musing in the porch, 
 
 The bright blue sky above him ; 
 But cannot see the light of Heaven, 
 
 Or smiles of those who love him. 
 But though the utter darkness hides 
 
 The earthly from his vision, 
 He sees the bowers of Paradise 
 
 And splendours of the Elysian ; 
 He learns from angels at his side 
 
 Creation's awful story, 
 And looks upon them face to face, 
 
 Undazzled by their glory. 
 
 II.' 
 
 Beethoven — Music's great high-priest, 
 Whose heaven-born fancies capture
 
 BLESS/iVGS IN DISGUISE. 89 
 
 The tangled skeins of harmony ■ 
 
 And weave them into rapture — 
 Hears not the voice of humankind, 
 
 Nor sound of life or motion, 
 Nor tempests on the echoing hill. 
 
 Nor moan of restless ocean ; 
 And yet in silence of his mind 
 
 Can hear the throb and thunder 
 Of jubilant hymns and solemn chants, 
 
 And lays of love and wonder. 
 
 III. 
 Thus, though relentless Fate may close 
 
 The gateways of our senses. 
 Immortal spirit overleaps 
 
 Its barriers and defences, 
 And with celestial recompense 
 
 For harm and loss diurnal 
 Yields greater joy than Flesh affords, — 
 
 A foretaste of th' Eternal : 
 To blind old Milton's ray less orbs 
 
 The light divine is given, — 
 And deaf Beethoven hears the hymns 
 
 And harmonies of heaven !
 
 90 
 
 BALLADS AND LYRICS. 
 
 THE TWO SLAIN GENERALS. 
 
 I. 
 
 In the cold and drear December, 
 In the waning of the night, 
 
 A vision passed before me 
 By the dim, uncertain hght : 
 
 A vision of hosts and armies 
 BattUng for wrong— or right. 
 
 II. 
 Ten times ten thousand warriors 
 
 Were ranged on either side. 
 In squadrons and battalions 
 
 Deploying far and wide ; 
 Ghosts of departed heroes 
 
 That had bled and fought and died. 
 
 III. 
 Dull in the mist, their banners 
 Hung hueless every one ;
 
 THE TWO SLAIN GENERALS. 91 
 
 There came no breath of sulphur 
 
 From the jaws of the murderous gun, 
 
 And the swords and spears and rifles 
 Were shadowless in the sun. 
 
 IV, 
 
 It seemed as if legion to legion 
 
 Inquired with anxious eyes, 
 Why did we hate each other ? 
 
 How did this strife arise ? 
 And why did this misery happen 
 
 Under God's holy skies ? 
 
 V. 
 
 The serried ranks reopened 
 
 In dim and dark array, 
 And the pale ghost of a hero 
 
 Slain in the fateful fray. 
 Astride on a spectral charger. 
 
 Stood- forth in the dawning day. 
 
 VI. 
 
 And from the opposing phalanx 
 
 Another, like to him 
 In shadowy form and feature 
 
 And resolute eye and limb,
 
 92 BALLADS AND LYRICS. 
 
 As if leading hosts to battle, 
 
 Loomed large in the fog-light dim. 
 
 VII. 
 
 And the one said to the other, 
 " General, we died in vain 
 
 In the quarrel which we sought not ; 
 And the blood of thousands slain 
 
 Cries up to outraged Heaven 
 From the gory battle-plain. 
 
 VIII. , 
 
 <' Brother in crime and sorrow, 
 Brother in fearful wrong. 
 
 The foolish crowd exalt us 
 With plaudits loud and long, 
 
 And chant our praises daily 
 In sermon and in song. 
 
 IX. 
 
 " They call us great and mighty. 
 Because by passion led 
 
 We sought to gather glory 
 In the vineyards of the dead, 
 
 And cared not for the rivers 
 Of innocent blood we shed ;
 
 THE TWO SLAIN GENERALS. 93 
 
 X. 
 
 " Because we rushed to battle 
 
 To struggle in a cause 
 That might have marched to triumph 
 
 Amid the world's applause, 
 If men had been obedient 
 ■^ . To God's eternal laws." 
 
 XI. 
 
 "Ay/' said his brother warrior, 
 " The victory was not worth 
 
 The smoke of the powder wasted 
 In heralding its birth, 
 
 Or the blood of the meanest soldier 
 That sank into the earth : 
 
 XII. 
 
 " But man is a cruel tyrant, 
 The foe of his brother-man ; 
 
 Pitiless and remorseless. 
 
 By impulse and by plan, — 
 
 Is, and for ever has been, 
 Since Time its course began,
 
 94 BALLADS AND LYRICS. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 " On all who strive to thwart him 
 In the frenzy of his need, 
 
 In his hunger of dominion, 
 In his hate of a rival creed. 
 
 Or love of a neighbour's frontier, 
 That tempts his selfish greed. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 "And we became his hirelings. 
 And pandered to his, lust, 
 
 Helping to wreak his vengeance, 
 Unreasoning and unjust, 
 
 On our offending brothers. 
 And harmless fellow-dust. 
 
 XV. 
 
 "Let us be friends, my brother." 
 And I saw, with moistening eyes. 
 
 That they clasped their hands together 
 As the mists began to rise, 
 
 And the shadowy legions vanished 
 In the light of the morning skies.
 
 95 
 
 ON THE PLACE DE LA CONCORDE, 
 PARIS. 
 
 I. 
 
 . ' Lone wandering through the street 
 With desultory feet, 
 Led by wild fancies idly to and fro, 
 I lingered on the square 
 . So awful yet so fair, 
 Misnamed of Concord, where no concords grow : 
 The founts had ceased to play, 
 The mist hung dark and grey. 
 And clad the spectral trees, like mourners robed 
 for woe. 
 
 II. 
 Upon the Seine's dark breast 
 The ripples were at rest — 
 There blew no wind to curl them on the stream ; 
 The city was asleep. 
 The very mist did creep
 
 96 BALLADS AND LYRICS. 
 
 As if 'twere drowsy, and each lamp's dim beam, 
 
 Athwart the dreary night, 
 
 Shone out with nebulous light, 
 Ring-circled, vague and thick — a melancholy gleam. 
 
 III. 
 
 Whole phalanxes of ghosts, 
 
 In long-drawn shadowy hosts. 
 Headless and horrible, usurped the ground, 
 
 That seemed alive with Death ; 
 
 Without a sigh or breath 
 To break the pulseless quietude around. 
 
 In the cathedral tower 
 
 The solemn midnight hour 
 Shook, whispering with a faint and muffled sound. 
 
 IV. 
 
 I saw before me pass, 
 
 As in a magic glass, 
 A mournful spectre looming through the haze ; 
 
 Upon his brow he wore 
 
 The semblance, red as 'gore. 
 Of a king's crowai, the gaud of other days, ^ 
 
 Such as might well beseem 
 
 The glory and the dream 
 Of lost dominion and the people's praise.
 
 ON THE PLACE DE LA CONCORDE, PARIS. 97 
 
 V. 
 
 Where Luxor's giant stone 
 
 Stands awful and alone 
 A scaffold reared its grim revengeful head ; 
 
 And round its basements rude 
 
 A fearful multitude 
 Of fitful ghosts, neither alive nor dead, 
 * _ Paced to the throb and thrum 
 
 Of the monotonous drum 
 In slow funereal march and melancholy tread. 
 
 VI. 
 
 And lo ! before my sight, 
 
 In gleams of lurid light, 
 I could discern, as in a palimpsest, 
 
 The wearer of the crown 
 
 Kneel reverently down. 
 With pious hands enfolded on his breast. 
 
 While from his lips a prayer. 
 
 Borne on the stagnant air. 
 Implored of pitying Heaven the boon of blessed 
 rest. 
 
 VII. 
 
 The blessing was conferr'd, 
 The mournful prayer was heard, 
 
 7
 
 98 BALLADS AND LYRICS. 
 
 The deed was done, the thread of Hfe was riven ; 
 
 While a voice, calm and low, 
 
 Hopeful, but full of woe. 
 Said, " Patience, brother ! be thy sins forgiven ; 
 
 Angels attend on thee, 
 
 Death is great victory ! 
 " Son of Saint Louis, find thy home in Heaven ! "
 
 99 
 
 FAILURES. 
 
 Millions of germs never grow into life, 
 
 On the land or in the sea ; 
 MilHons of acorns fall to the ground 
 
 And never produce a tree ; 
 Millions of people live and die 
 On Earth's prolific breast, 
 But scarcely produce in a thousand years 
 
 A man above the rest, 
 To guide them into higher life 
 
 Than ever, before they knew. 
 To lead them out of the false and bad 
 
 Into the good and true. 
 And when he comes they heed him not. 
 
 Or if they heed, they slay 
 For being wiser than themselves 
 And born before his day !
 
 lOO BALLADS AND LYRICS. 
 
 THREE DECEIVERS. 
 
 I. 
 
 When I was young, in lusty health, 
 
 Two visions floated o'er me, — 
 The one was Fame, the other Wealth, 
 
 And bright the shore before me, 
 Fair glittering in the morning ray. 
 But ere the noon of 3-outhful day 
 A phantom lovelier than they 
 
 Stood radiantly beside me. 
 It whispered music, day and night. 
 Its smiles were more than noonday bright. 
 Its eyes were fountains of delight 
 
 To comfort and to guide me ! 
 
 _ » 
 
 II. 
 
 'Twas Love, with w.itchery on her tongue, 
 Who from her lustrous glances 
 
 Whole sheaves of feathered arrows flung. 
 Well sharpened with romances.
 
 THREE DECEIVERS. lOI 
 
 She lured and led me from the bowers, 
 And promised me more blissful hours 
 Than Fame or Wealth and all their dowers 
 
 Could yield, and never vary. 
 Alas ! I yielded to the thrall 
 Of each in turn — in rise and fall — 
 And found they were impostors all, 
 
 To cheat the heart unwary ! 
 
 III. 
 Fame brought Detraction in his train, 
 
 And Envy strove to spite me, 
 While Wealth, acquired in toil and pain, 
 
 Was powerless to deliglTi me. 
 Love, though a traitor, like the rest 
 Was far the 'pleasantest and best. 
 And gave my life a nobler zest 
 
 Than either of her rivals ; 
 And so, if victim I must be, 
 The least unworthy of the three 
 Shall hold my foolish heart in fee, 
 
 The last of the survivals !
 
 I02 BALLADS AXD LYRICS. 
 
 HOW MANY AND HOW FEW. 
 
 I. 
 
 How many raindrops fall in the river, 
 
 How many rays in the sunshine quiver, 
 
 How many lovers' vows are broken. 
 
 How many lies are dail}^ spoken. 
 
 How many knaves in the morning rise. 
 
 How many fools arc thought to be wise. 
 
 How many leaves are on the tree. 
 
 How many gallons in the sea. 
 
 And how many sorrows oppress the men 
 
 Who live to threescore years and ten ? 
 
 II. 
 Hard to reckon ! Easier far 
 To count how few the happy are. 
 Or the vows in Love's bright summer made 
 That are truly kept in the wintry shade, 
 Or the hopes of youth in its blossoming May 
 That ripen to fruit in the autumn day.
 
 HOW MANY AND HOW FEW. 103 
 
 And the hearts that after years of pain 
 Would choose to live their lives again ; 
 Easy to count them if we knew, — 
 O Life, be Love ! O Love, be true !
 
 104 BALLADS AND LVR/CS. 
 
 THE SFXRET. 
 
 I. 
 
 I FOUND a secret long ago, 
 
 Before I'd passed my middle prime, 
 To turn a friend into a foe, 
 
 And blunt the shafts of hostile Time. 
 
 II. 
 To revel in my youthful thought, 
 
 When cruel age was creeping on ; 
 And sail Life's ship with fancies fraught 
 
 O'er seas where placid summer shone. 
 
 III. 
 How I could bathe in fountains fair 
 
 For hope and love and healing meant. 
 And breathe the soft and balmy air 
 
 Of gratitude and sweet content. 
 
 IV. 
 
 How I could keep my wayward heart 
 Pure as a child's in its morn of life,
 
 THE SECRET. 105 
 
 Nor suffer courage to depart, 
 
 Or perish in the moil and strife. 
 
 V. 
 
 How not to creep, but to aspire ; 
 
 How to widen my narrowing ken ; 
 How keep alive the sacred fire 
 
 Of love to God and my fellow-men. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Yes ! I discovered it long ago — 
 The little secret — so large to bless, 
 
 That lightened the load of every woe, 
 And robed the world in loveliness. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Wouldst know the secret ? Short to tell : 
 You cannot read it in my looks. 
 
 I found it where it loves to dwell, 
 
 In the noblest and the best of books : 
 
 VIII. 
 
 In the holy Sermon on the Mount, 
 In poet's page of lofty truth ; — 
 
 These were the waters of the Fount, 
 These the renewers of my Youth !
 
 106 BALLADS AND LVR/CS. 
 
 SONNET. 
 
 Could we but know, and, knowing, durst proclaim 
 How much the thoughts of an exultant youth 
 Owe to the promptings of eternal Truth 
 
 Infused into our souls like living flame. 
 
 The cold and callous world would scorn and blame, 
 Or look upon us with a dull surprise, 
 And call us mad for seeming to be wise 
 
 Beyond our years, and bid us hush for shame. 
 
 Alas ! we know not, till in after time 
 Too late to profit by, too fitful bright ; 
 
 Though wild and vague, too near to the sublime, 
 Were the ennobling thoughts by Fancy drawn 
 
 Unwittingly for Heaven to give us light 
 In the fresh sunrise of our mortal dawn !
 
 loy 
 
 WHAT THE MORNING SUN SAID TO THE 
 
 FLOWERS. 
 
 Ye happy, beautiful and innocent things, 
 God's only angels in a world of pain, 
 Angels in all except the snowy wings 
 
 To float and soar o'er heaven's eternal plain, 
 Sin casts no shadow o'er your radiant faces, 
 And grief avoids your holy dwelling-places ; 
 Ye live, ye love, ye propagate and die. 
 And ope your joyous petals to the sky, 
 Rose-red and lily pale and heavenly blue. 
 And bask in my warm beams from morns till eves. 
 To drink the cooling moisture of the dew 
 That freshens "and sustains your drooping leaves ; 
 Your lives are free from sorrow, sin and care, 
 And ye are happy knowing ye are fair — 
 Happier than birds or beasts or humankind 
 Or insects, happier still than all that wage 
 Insensate wars with instinct fierce and blind 
 Against their fellow-creatures, to assuage
 
 I08 BALLADS AND LYRICS. 
 
 The cruel and relentless hunger-pains 
 That rouse their passions and inflame their veins; 
 But ye ! ye innocent nurslings of my rays, 
 Live purer lives and sanctify the earth, 
 Which ye adorn by your perennial birth 
 And generous loveliness of summer days, 
 When ye display your beauties to the light 
 In manifold glories to man's grateful sight. 
 Ye break no laws, ye live unsullied hours. 
 And feel no pangs of sorrow in the bowers, 
 Inflicting none ! and only spreading pleasures 
 To all who prize your ever-teeming treasures. 
 Born of my beams, I love you every one. 
 Gems of the earth and darlings of the sun !
 
 109 
 
 CIRCLES. 
 
 All the worlds exist in circles ; 
 
 In a circle blows the wind, 
 In a circle flows the life-blood, 
 
 And in circles acts the mind : 
 On and on, and on for ever, 
 
 TraveUing east we reach the west ; 
 Suns and galaxies and systems 
 
 All obey the same behest, 
 Never swerving into tangents, 
 
 Never passing into rest. 
 
 Everything in God's creation, 
 
 Guided by a law Divine, 
 Is imprisoned in a circle, 
 
 And knows nothing of a line. 
 God alone extends for ever 
 
 Through the past infinity. 
 Through the present to the future, 
 
 Is and was and is to be — 
 Lives unending, unbeginning, 
 
 Mystery of mystery !
 
 I lO BALLADS AND LYRICS. 
 
 ELOGE DE LA FOLIE. 
 
 Not by Erasmus. 
 
 I. 
 
 Some sing of wisdom and its charms 
 
 In tuneful melancholy, 
 But I will choose another theme, 
 
 And sing the praise of Folly. 
 Folly's the ruler of the world. 
 
 As history evinces ; 
 The bosom friend, the confidant 
 And counsellor of princes. 
 II. 
 When statesmen meet in senate halls 
 
 To plan the fate of nations, 
 Close at their elbows Folly flits 
 
 To shape their disputations. 
 It whispers in their willing ears. 
 
 Unseen and unsuspected, 
 And shapes their actions into forms 
 Which Wisdom had rejected.
 
 ELOGE DE LA FOLIE. Ill 
 
 III. 
 There's not a potentate on earth 
 
 So .mighty in dominion 
 As Folly, master of the wise 
 
 And tyrant of opinion. 
 'Tis Folly keeps the world alive 
 
 In all its generations, 
 And sits as arbiter of fate 
 
 And umpire of the nations. 
 
 IV. 
 
 'Tis Folly makes us fall in love 
 
 When health and youth run riot. 
 And keeps the bright steel blade of mind 
 
 From mouldiness and quiet ; 
 'Tis Folly makes us riish to war 
 
 And pour out blood like water, 
 And all for glory and renown 
 
 To be acquired by slaughter. 
 
 V. 
 
 'Tis Folly makes the wine-cup flow 
 
 When joyous comrades revel. 
 And drags the stupid and the wise 
 
 Down to a common level ;
 
 112 BALLADS AND LYRICS. 
 
 'Tis Folly shouts hip, hip ! hurrah ! 
 
 With voice enthusiastic, 
 When lies come rattling from the tongue 
 
 In praise encomiastic. 
 
 VI. 
 
 'Tis Folly makes us think that gold 
 
 All other good surpasses, 
 And value the applause of crowds 
 
 Though it be brayed of asses ; 
 'Tis Folly that depends on luck, 
 
 And not upon endeavour. 
 To feed the fires of enterprise 
 
 And keep them hot for ever. 
 
 VII. 
 
 'Tis Folly makes the millions cheer 
 
 By self-sufficient warrant, 
 When statesmen gifted with the "gab" 
 
 Pour out their windy, torrent, 
 And take five weary hours to tell 
 
 What might be better ended 
 In twice five minutes, with less risk 
 
 To common-sense offended.
 
 ELOGE DE LA FOIJE. II 
 
 VIII. 
 
 'Tis Folly wakes the slumbering world 
 
 And sets it briskly going, 
 And keeps life's fashionable stream 
 
 For ever fresh and flowing. 
 So long live Folly ! guide of man 
 
 Since time's remotest ages, 
 The sovereign of the multitude 
 
 And mentor of the sages ! 
 
 
 
 8
 
 114 BALLADS AND LYRICS. 
 
 POPULARITY. 
 
 He liit the bad taste of the silly and thoughtless, 
 The silly and thoughtless rewarded him well ; 
 
 The critics encored him, the maidens adored him — 
 Whatever he published was certain to sell. 
 
 The multitude bought him, the publishers sought 
 him. 
 Who could compare with him ? Who could excel ? 
 
 One who excelled him by ten times ten thousand, 
 Sang- for the wise and the good and the true ; 
 
 Thought them majority, found them minority, 
 Friendly and loving, but hopelessly few. 
 
 How could he count with .his butcher and baker ? 
 How could he live upon sunshine and dew ? 
 
 f 
 
 The bard of the silly splashed by in his chariot — 
 His was the homage and Jiis the acclaim ;
 
 POPULARITY. 115 
 
 The bard of the thoughtful trudged by in the gutter, 
 And looked to the future for profitless fame. 
 
 What does it signify ? — Man can but live and 
 die : 
 Living, he's nobody ; dead, he's a Name !
 
 Il6 BALLADS AND LYRICS. 
 
 KILLING THE TIME. 
 
 I. 
 Kill Time ? And why should I kill him ? 
 
 I want him to be my friend, 
 To live with him and cherish him 
 
 In the fast-approaching end ; 
 To roam with me in the wild wood, 
 
 To pluck the wayside flowers, 
 Or sit with me and my loved one 
 
 In the leafy summer bowers. 
 
 IL 
 
 Kill Time ? But why should I kill him, 
 
 My friend all friends beside, 
 When he can teach me wisdom 
 
 To comfort me and guide. 
 When he can strew my pathway 
 
 V/ith lily and th^^me and rose. 
 And lilac and laburnum. 
 
 And an}^ blossom that grows ?
 
 KILLING THE TIME. 11/ 
 
 III. 
 Kill him ? Why should I kill him, 
 
 In the sight of the chiding sun, 
 In ignorant self-slaughter, 
 
 When he and my life are one, 
 When kindly Heaven deputes him 
 
 To cheer me on the road, 
 Not darksome altogether. 
 
 That leads me up to God ? 
 
 IV. 
 
 Kill him ? Ah, no ! I'll bless him, 
 
 And study him all I can : 
 He's not my foe, nor ever was 
 
 Through all his little span ; 
 He brings me gifts from day to day. 
 
 And 'mid the moil and strife 
 Of the busy world, where Death is lord, 
 
 He holds me on to life. 
 
 V. 
 
 'T would be ungrateful and unjust 
 
 If I should do him wrong, 
 And, though when oft I think him short. 
 
 He seems perversely long :
 
 Il8 BALLADS AND LYRICS. 
 
 The fault lies wholly with myself, 
 
 And Time is not to blame, 
 Who holds his course, through good and ill, 
 
 Eternally the same. 
 
 VI. 
 
 'Tis true that by all-wise decree 
 
 He ripens young to old, 
 And dims the light of beaming eyes. 
 
 And turns the warmth to cold ; 
 But that's no reason we should haste 
 
 The inevitable day, 
 By killing him whose life is ours: 
 
 I'll use him while I may !
 
 119 
 
 THE OLD TREE. 
 
 There's life in the old tree yet : 
 /It opens its buds to the spring, 
 And rustles its leaves to the soft west wind, 
 
 When the lark and the nightingales sing; 
 It yields the owl a sheltering rest, 
 
 And the bright-eyed squirrel a run, 
 And casts a shade on the mossy sward 
 
 Under the noonday sun, — 
 A shade where weariness may rest 
 
 And indolence may dream, 
 And sweethearts carve their names on the bark. 
 
 And muse on the joy supreme. 
 
 There's life in the old tree yet 
 
 To brave the wintry storm. 
 And pith in its wide- extended roots 
 
 To keep its branches warm ; 
 So let the wild winds blow their worst, 
 
 Come frost, come hail, come rain.
 
 120 BALLADS AND LYRICS. 
 
 Come anything but the Hghtning stroke 
 And the weird, wild hurricane, — 
 
 The tree shall stand for its destined hour, 
 And bloom in the spring again !
 
 121 
 
 ONLY STRAWS! 
 
 The Devil sat at the dawn of day, 
 "Amid the crowds on a broad highv^'ay, 
 By the bank of a mighty river, 
 That dashed and foamed and rolled for ever, 
 With waves and winds and constant strife — 
 The dark and treacherous River of Life. 
 
 The teeming people on the shore, 
 Wistfully watching evermore, 
 Gazed on the -straws that the Devil cast 
 Into the torrent hurrying past. 
 And with impatient hand and eye, 
 As the worthless waifs went floating by, 
 Strove to catch them in eager haste, 
 Wading naked from the waist, 
 Or in defiant strength and pride 
 Leap'd all headlong into the tide, 
 To seize the straws by the tempter flung 
 To dazzle and cheat the old and young,
 
 122 BALLADS AND LYRICS. 
 
 The weak, the strong, the shy, the bold, 
 By wisps of visionary gold. 
 
 I asked, unknowing what to think, 
 A keen spectator on the brink, 
 What caused the madness of the crowd. 
 " Madness ? " he answered me aloud ; 
 " They are not mad, but brave and wise : 
 They know the value of the prize ! 
 Straws, did you say ? They're great rewards, 
 The best that kindly Earth affords ; 
 They're wealth, dominion, power and fame, 
 More precious than the tongue can name. 
 Who gains them makes the world his own. 
 And sits like monarch on a throne, 
 To tower above the common herd. 
 Supreme in action and in word ! " 
 
 He ceased and, darting from my side. 
 Sprang exulting in the tide ; 
 Young he was and fair to see, 
 And confident of victory. 
 And 'mid the waters 4eep and vast 
 Clutched at every straw that passed ; 
 And though at times he gasped for breath, 
 He feared no conqueror but Death,
 
 ONLY STRAWS! i: 
 
 And in the struggle took no heed 
 
 Of his competitors in greed, 
 
 Who pressed upon him all around : 
 
 He strove, he struggled, and he drowned, 
 
 And sank with faint expiring groan 
 
 Down to the bottom like a stone ! 
 
 u His stronger rivals stepped ashore — 
 Pale-faced, dim-eyed, and weaned sore, 
 Old and decrepid ere their time. 
 Or foul of feet with slush and slime. 
 To flaunt the straws which they had won 
 Triumphant to the noonday sun, 
 Or hug them proudly to their breasts, 
 And wear like trophies in their crests. 
 
 Alas ! I thought, that men should be 
 Such dupes and victims as to see 
 A treasure in the worthless straws 
 That win their worship and applause ; 
 That in their greed they should despise 
 God's choicest blessings to the wise — 
 . Health, strength, and blessed peace of mind, 
 And love, best boon of humankind ! 
 Alas ! that they should sell their souls 
 For paltry and deluding doles,
 
 124 BALLADS AND LYRICS. 
 
 And shadowy dreams of wealth and power, 
 
 That cheat them for a fretful hour, 
 
 And veil from their defrauded sight 
 
 The glories of the Infinite, 
 
 And send them to the grave forlorn 
 
 To weep that they were ever born, - 
 
 Poor little wormlings of the sod, 
 
 That creep and crawl, and know not God !
 
 12=; 
 
 GUTTERSLUSH : 
 
 Maker of Parliaments. 
 
 I. 
 
 GuTTERSLUSH, One of the million, 
 
 Can neither read nor write, 
 But can drink and swagger and bluster, 
 
 And, if he likes, can fight. 
 He labours for his daily bread. 
 
 And thinks the toil severe ; 
 And spends the better half of his wage 
 
 In tobacco and in beer. 
 
 II. 
 His wretched, ragged helpmate 
 
 Works harder far than he. 
 To earn a crust for the starving brats 
 
 That clamber at her knee 
 Or swarm in the putrid alleys 
 
 In the puddle and the rain, 
 To pluck up vice in the gutter, 
 
 Deadening heart and brain.
 
 126 BALLADS AND LYRLCS. 
 
 III. 
 And Gutterslush is a voter 
 
 By right of the rent he pays, 
 Or allows his Hfe's poor partner 
 
 To hoard for the evil days, 
 When the landlord of their dog-hole 
 
 Might turn them into the street, 
 To howl for coppers to purchase drink 
 
 On pretence of bread to eat. 
 
 IV. 
 
 And Gutterslush tJiinks 'he's a " thinker," 
 
 Because of the paltry vote, 
 That he'd sell to the highest bidder, 
 
 If only for a groat, 
 To buy the beery poison 
 
 Or the throat-inflaming gin, 
 And think no shame of the bargain, 
 
 But clinch it with a grin. 
 
 V. 
 
 Is he not one of the million 
 That help to rule; the State ? 
 
 And choose the men of action — 
 The brave, the true, the great,
 
 GUTTERSLUSH : MAKER OF PARLIAMENTS. 127 
 
 And aid it to hold the position 
 
 It held in days bygone, 
 When wisdom sat at its councils 
 
 And guarded the steps of the throne ; 
 
 VI. 
 
 When fools and knaves and cowards 
 
 Were ruled, but did not rule, 
 And the teachers were not governed 
 
 By the dunces of the school ; 
 When the doctors, not the patients, 
 
 Kept peace in Bedlam's halls. 
 And the warders, not the felons, 
 
 Were the lords in the prison walls ? 
 
 • vii. 
 
 Guttcrslush looks at the windows 
 
 Of the all-too-tempting shops. 
 Where the glittering watches dangle, 
 
 And the diamonds hang in drops 
 Or gloats at the sight of the bacon 
 
 That might exercise his jaw. 
 If he had not to work and win it 
 
 Ere it reached his greedy maw^
 
 128 BALLADS AND LYRICS. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Every man is a foeman 
 
 (In Gutterslush's eye,) 
 Who wears a better coat on his back 
 
 Than idleness can buy. 
 And Gutterslush as a voter 
 
 Is great on election day, 
 When a party-ridden nation 
 
 Indulges in its craze ; 
 
 IX. 
 
 And accepts the voice of the many 
 
 As an oracle divine, 
 Though the voice be as void of reason. 
 
 As the rowt and roar of kine— 
 The mob that is bound to labour, 
 
 And has not leisure to think, 
 And traders engrossed in trading 
 
 Hear nought but the money's chink. 
 
 X. 
 
 Or, closely packed together 
 
 In the grip of the teeming town, 
 Strive in their desperation 
 • To trample each other down.
 
 GUTTERSLUSH : MAKER OF PARLIAMENTS. 1 29 
 
 And goaded by fear of hunger, 
 
 Limit their little skill, 
 To sell by fraudulent measure, 
 
 And' the filHng of the till. 
 
 XI. 
 
 And scruple not to poison 
 
 The unoffending poor. 
 By the carrion food they sell them • 
 
 At a profit large and sure, 
 To be got from the ready penny 
 
 In a famishing woman's hand. 
 Who has sold, perchance, her virtue 
 
 For the pence at her command. 
 
 * 
 
 XII. 
 
 The Gutterslushes rule us. 
 
 And surge and overwhelm 
 The buttresses and bulwarks 
 
 Of a once majestic realm ; 
 And take no heed of the rivals, 
 
 Many and brave and strong. 
 That are springing up around us 
 
 As the swift years hurry along. 
 
 9
 
 I30 BALLADS AND LYRICS. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 And, alas ! our would-be statesmen, 
 
 Floundering in faction's mire. 
 Will walk as their party bids them, 
 
 Though it lead through flood and fire ; 
 Not giving a thought to duty. 
 
 Or their suffering country's need 
 Of honest men to rule it. 
 
 In all their thought and deed. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 If Gutterslush were but One, 
 
 Small evil might be wrought ; 
 But he's part of a swarming million, 
 
 Unscrupulous and untaught, 
 Though he knows the gospel of greed 
 
 And every man for himself, 
 And the devil take the hindmost 
 
 In the dastardly struggle for pelf! 
 
 XV. 
 
 But the million are the masters 
 Till the destined end shall come, 
 
 And the court and the camp and the forum 
 Shall be captured by the Slum :
 
 GUTTERSLUSH: MAKER OF PARLIAMENTS. 131 
 
 Demos is lord and monarch 
 Supreme in bower and town, 
 
 With a firebrand for a sceptre 
 And a fool's cap for a crown ! 
 
 XVI. 
 
 And Jack is as good as his master, 
 
 And Jill is the quean of the land, 
 And covers the streets with her children 
 
 To shame us where we stand. 
 Vox Popiili ! Vox Stultorum ! 
 
 Are they not the same — 
 Speaking in tones of thunder 
 
 And devastating flame ?
 
 132 BALLADS AND LYRLCS. 
 
 OH FOR A MAN ! 
 
 Oh for a man of soul sublime 
 
 To dwarf the pigmies of our time, 
 
 Of honest and far-reaching mmd, 
 
 Who sees his way to loose and bind, — ■ 
 
 A man to act, and not to spout 
 
 His weary floods of mazy doubt, 
 
 And flux of words in dark disguise 
 
 To vex the patience of the wise. 
 
 Oh for a man of heart and hand, 
 
 The guiding spirit of the land, 
 
 To keep intact from knaves and fools 
 
 And slavish bigots of the schools 
 
 The glorious privileges won 
 
 And handed down from' sire to son, 
 
 That made our Britain stand erect, 
 
 A model for the world's respect. 
 
 The friend of right, th' oppressor's dread, 
 
 The heart of freedom and its head !
 
 OH FOR A MAN. 13^ 
 
 Oh for a man to write his name 
 Clear on the luminous scroll of fame, 
 A man of purpose, strength and wit, 
 Like brave old Palmerston and Pitt, 
 To foil the cowardly of To-day, 
 Who seek to squander and betray 
 For sake of petty power and gold 
 The glorious heritage of old ! 
 
 Oh for a man ! He'll come ! he'll come ! 
 To strike our garrulous drivellers dumb, 
 And prove that patriot virtues still 
 Inspire the heart and guide the will 
 Of statesmen worthy of the name 
 To vindicate their country's fame, 
 And lift her glorious banner high. 
 Defiant of the stormiest sky. 
 To breeze and blast alike unfurl'd, 
 A signal to th' expectant world I
 
 134 BALLADS AND LYRICS. 
 
 WEALTH UNTOLD 
 
 Seek for treasure, and you'll find 
 
 It exists but in the mind. 
 
 Wealth is but the power that hires 
 
 Blessings that the heart desires ; 
 
 And if these are mine to hold 
 
 Independently of gold 
 
 And the gifts it can bestow, 
 
 I am richer than I know. 
 
 Rich am I, if when I pass 
 Amid the daisies on the grass. 
 Every daisy in my sight 
 Seems a jewel of delight ! 
 Rich am I, if I can see 
 Treasure in the flower, and tree, 
 And can hear 'mid forest leaves 
 Music in the summer eves ; 
 If the lark that sings aloud 
 On the fringes of the cloud
 
 WEALTH UNTOLD. 135 
 
 Scatters melodies around 
 
 Fresh as rain-drops on the ground, 
 
 And I bless the happy bird 
 
 For the joy it has conferr'd ; 
 
 If the tides upon the shore 
 
 Chant me anthems evermore ; 
 
 And I feel in every mood 
 
 That life is fair and God is good ! 
 
 I am rich if I possess 
 
 Such a fund of happiness, 
 
 And can find where'er I stay 
 
 Humble blessings on the wa}', 
 
 And deserve them ere they're given 
 
 By my gratitude to Heaven !
 
 136 BALLADS AND LYRICS. 
 
 ON THE DUOMO OF MILAN. 
 
 I. 
 
 On Milan's high cathedral towers, 
 
 Amid the marble saints I stand, 
 And look beneath upon the bowers 
 
 Far spreading of the glorious land 
 Sublimely fair. On every side 
 
 The splendours rise, the beauties glow- 
 The leafy plains in summer's pride— 
 
 The mountain summits robed in snow. 
 
 II. 
 
 But 'tis not Nature's lovely face 
 
 That here shall captivate the mind ; 
 Man is the genius of the place. 
 
 And claims the homage of his kind. 
 E'en as on Alpine peaks I gaze. 
 
 The hoary guardians of the clime, 
 I think the thoughts of other days, 
 
 And dream the dreams of future time.
 
 • ON THE DUOMO OF MILAN. 1 37 
 
 III. 
 I deem, if voice of theirs could speak, 
 
 What. deeds their thunders might recall. 
 What wrongs of Roman and of Greek, 
 What crimes of Vandal and of Gaul ; 
 What seas of blood in warfare spilt, 
 
 What hecatombs of heroes slain, 
 'What ruthless misery and guilt. 
 
 What myriad battles, fought in vain. 
 
 IV. 
 
 O Italy 1 superbly fair ! 
 
 O matron, beautiful and chaste ! 
 To wanton with thy raven hair, 
 
 And loose the girdle from thy waist, 
 The kings and robbers of the world, 
 
 Have fought and wrestled evermore, 
 And only kiss'd thy lips impearl'd. 
 
 To stain thy lovely breast with gore ! 
 
 V. 
 
 With mangled limbs and bleeding head 
 Chain-bound in many an iron coil. 
 
 Death-smitten wert thou ! but not dead — 
 A prize for ruffians to despoil ;
 
 138 BALLADS AND LYRICS. 
 
 Ruffians impervious to remorse, 
 
 Enthralled and haunted by thy charms, 
 
 Who'd rather trample on thy corpse 
 Than yield thee to another's arms. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Brave Italy ! thou couldst not die ! 
 
 Thy sons, beneath their tyrants' yoke. 
 Looked up to God's benignant sky 
 
 With faith that never failed — or broke ; 
 They revelled in the realms of thought. 
 
 And dared oppression to subdue 
 The love they felt, the truths they sought 
 
 In Art and Science — old or new. 
 
 VII. 
 
 They raised in Dante's grasp sublime 
 
 The blazing torch of epic song ; 
 Taught Tasso the heroic rhyme 
 
 For after ages to prolong : 
 Taught Michael Angelo to wield 
 
 The magic brush that witch'd mankind. 
 And forced the marble block to yield 
 
 The gods and goddesses of mind.
 
 ON THE DUOMO OF MILAN. 139 
 
 VIII. 
 
 They filled the world with fairer forms 
 
 Than dull reality supplies, 
 Except to those whom Fancy warms 
 
 To gaze with sympathetic eyes ; 
 And gave to Europe, trodden low 
 
 Beneath the heels of armed men, 
 A light to lead it — and to show 
 
 How it might rise to life again. 
 
 IX. 
 
 By Knowledge, Poetry and Art, 
 
 And Union under wise control, 
 In field and town and trading mart. 
 
 To crush the despots of the soul, 
 Wear them as -waters wear the rocks 
 
 When ocean tides their strength assail, 
 And not by fitful earthquake shocks, 
 
 Or flying storms of sleet and hail. 
 
 X. 
 
 And not in vain — though Priest and King 
 And wily statesmen did their best 
 
 To stop the waters at the spring — 
 
 They gushed and overflowed the West.
 
 I40 BALLADS AND LYRICS. 
 
 And Europe bathing in the flood 
 
 Drank freedom from the heahng tide, 
 
 And won through agony and blood 
 The rights the robber had denied. 
 
 XI. 
 
 And Italy — itself at last, 
 
 After long struggles stood erect, 
 Freed from the bondage of the Past, 
 
 From wrong — from outrage — from neglect ; 
 Shone forth a gem in Europe's crown 
 
 A priceless jewel, set in gold. 
 With youthful fire and proud renown, 
 
 To light the nations as of old. 
 
 XII. 
 
 Thoughts are the rulers of the world, 
 
 And weave the texture — warp and woof, 
 Of Rights from banner high unfurled — 
 
 And Truth's white robts — destruction-proof; 
 Such are the thoughts with which I burn 
 
 Long musing on the Duomo's cope ; 
 Such is the lesson that I learn 
 
 For men and nations — Work and Hope !
 
 141 
 
 WRITING AND PUBLISHING. 
 
 I AM not wrong, you say, to write — 
 ^ But wrong to publish : no one needs 
 The songs and poems I indite, 
 
 And no one cares for them or reads. 
 What does it matter, I reply ? 
 
 The mavis on the hawthorn bough 
 And lark on forehead of the sky 
 
 Sing not to expedite the plough ! 
 They scatter melody like rain 
 
 Bursting in freshness from the cloud, 
 And care not though they chant in vain, 
 
 Unknown, unheeded of the crowd. 
 They sing for easement of their heart, 
 
 And I for mine, in every tone ; 
 My song's my life, my better part — 
 
 My joy, my comfort, and mine own !
 
 142 BALLADS AND LYRICS. 
 
 A NEW BALLAD WITH AN OLD BURDEN 
 
 I. 
 
 When this old cap was new — 
 
 'Tis eighty years ago — 
 There was elbow room in the land 
 
 Both for the high and low, 
 There were hope and scope for all 
 
 Who could wisely think and do 
 And take the world as they found it, 
 
 When this old cap was new- 
 
 II. 
 
 Reverence dwelt in the thought 
 
 Of the young man for the old, 
 And age was accounted honour, 
 
 Even if lacking gold." 
 Money was not the god, 
 
 But the servant of the true, 
 And held in trust for the people. 
 
 When this old cap was new.
 
 A NEW BALLAD WLTH AN OL.D BURDEN. 143 
 
 III. 
 
 Workmen did honest work 
 
 To earn an honest fee, 
 And none thought labour a curse 
 
 Whatever a man's degree, 
 Sons respected their fathers, 
 
 Daughters their mothers too, 
 'And their love was very lovely, 
 
 When this ohi cap zvas new. 
 
 IV. 
 
 " Ladies " were seldom heard of. 
 
 But abounded all the same, 
 And were known as " gentlewomen," 
 
 And worthy of the name ; 
 They did not live to dress 
 
 And flirt with nothing to do, 
 Or to squander the time in shopping. 
 
 When this old cap was new. 
 
 V. 
 
 No " gentleman " in their presence 
 
 Was rude enough to smoke, 
 Or utter a too suggestive word 
 
 In earnest or in joke ;
 
 144 BALLADS AND LYRICS. 
 
 Or address them in casual meeting 
 Even with a ^^ How d'ye do f^' 
 
 Except with head uncovered, 
 When this old cap was new! 
 
 VI. 
 
 The vulgar slang of the street 
 
 Was to the street confined, 
 And never found an utterance 
 
 On the lips of the refined ; 
 But was left to the slums and stables, 
 
 And to tramps and the cadging crew, 
 Who knew no other language, 
 
 When this ohi cap was new. 
 
 VII. 
 
 A servant girl was a servant, 
 
 And was not called a " miss," 
 But Jane or Sarah or Mary Ann, 
 
 As the fashion no Ibnger is ; 
 And did not ape her mistress 
 
 In pink or green or blue, 
 But dressed in sober garments 
 
 When this old cap was new.
 
 A NEW BALLAD WITH AN OLD BURDEN 145 
 
 VIII. 
 
 The little children frolicked 
 
 In the garden or the mead, 
 And believed in fairy stories 
 
 In thought and word and deed, 
 Respected Jack and the Beanstalk 
 
 And Sindbad the Sailor true. 
 • And never heard of an '"ology " 
 
 JVhcii fin's old cap 7vas uczv ! 
 
 IX. 
 
 A trader's word was his bond, 
 
 And if he measured an ell, 
 Twas an ell to the shade of an inch 
 
 Either to buy or sell ; 
 Butter was churned from milk, 
 
 And malt and hops were in brew. 
 And wine was made from the actual grape 
 
 When tills old cap ivas new ! 
 
 X. 
 
 The " gift of the gab " was a blemish 
 
 In those who aspired to rule. 
 And was not the test of a statesman, 
 
 But oftener of a fool ; 
 
 10
 
 146 BALLADS AND LYRICS. 
 
 Deeds, and not words, were the proofs 
 
 Of wisdom tried and true 
 In the councils of the nation, 
 
 When this old cap was new! 
 
 XI. 
 
 The land was not encumbered 
 
 With paupers lacking bread, 
 And the guardians of the poor 
 
 Had heart as well as head ; 
 The prisons had cells to spare. 
 
 And the inmates were but few. 
 For work was not starvation 
 
 IVhen this ohi cap ivas new ! 
 
 XII. 
 
 Betting was not a business, — 
 
 Races were fairly run ; 
 And melancholy jokers 
 
 Had mercy in their fun. 
 And did not pump up ancient jests 
 
 In journal or review 
 To prove what absolute fools they were 
 
 When this old cap ivas new ! 
 
 1
 
 A NEW BALLAD WITH AN OLD BURDEN. 1 47 
 
 XIII, 
 
 Men met in the social circle 
 
 When the wine and the wit were poured, 
 And hospitality flourished 
 
 E'en at the poor man's board ; 
 All intercourse was courteous 
 
 Between the many and few, 
 . And the world was all the better, 
 
 When this old cop ivas new I 
 
 XIV. 
 
 But care and money-grubbing, 
 
 And the pressure of the crowd, 
 And " Devil take the hindmost " 
 
 Shouted aloft and aloud, 
 Have hardened the heart and the manners, 
 
 And driven the world askew, 
 Since the happier days departed, 
 
 IVhen this eld cap ivas new!
 
 148 BALLADS AND LYRICS. 
 
 A VERY GREAT KING. 
 
 A King ! a King ! a mighty King ! 
 
 Who rules unquestioned Lord, 
 More potent than an • emperor, 
 
 A tyrant — but adored ! 
 King Humbug governs countless realms 
 
 More populous by far 
 Than ever fell to cruel stroke. 
 Or bent beneath the hardest yoke 
 
 Of conqueror in war. 
 
 II. 
 
 The Attilas and Charlemagnes, 
 Who slaughtered fresh and free. 
 
 Or sat on thrones of human bone. 
 Were feebler far than he ; 
 
 For Humbug cares not to destroy,
 
 A VERY GREAT KING. 149 
 
 But, merciful to men, 
 He rules them in a softer guise, 
 By smiles and tricks and frauds and lies 
 
 And 'skill of tongue and pen. 
 
 III. 
 And yet, perchance, if we could count 
 
 The harm that he has done. 
 And daily does in every realm 
 
 Beneath the blessed sun. 
 We might confess that gun and sword 
 
 Were easier to control 
 Than Humbug, with his false pretence, 
 Who spares our bodies but to fence 
 
 His treason to the soul, 
 
 IV. 
 
 So long live Humbug ! Mighty king ! 
 
 Who rules without a peer, 
 The head and master of the world, 
 
 To all his subjects dear ; 
 Though wars may cease, yet long as men 
 
 Are easier to kill 
 Than to be forced to love the truth. 
 He'll flourish in immortal youth, 
 
 Obeyed and worshipped still !
 
 150 BALLADS AND LYRICS. 
 
 ANCIENT ERRORS. 
 
 Lives there a man who hopes to slay 
 
 An ancient error in our day ? 
 
 Let him attempt it if he will, 
 
 And work, and work, and work his fill : 
 
 He'll find, when he has struck a blow, 
 
 How weak his arm, how strong his foe, 
 
 And that against its brazen mail 
 
 The sharpest lance will not avail ! 
 
 If, reeling from the blow you smote, 
 
 You seize the creature by the throat, 
 
 And drive your weapon through its brain 
 
 It wriggles into life again. 
 
 And stands erect and firm once more, 
 
 And darts its venom as before. 
 
 An error once familiar grown 
 Becomes our darling— and our own : 
 We hug it, kiss it, keep it press'd 
 Snugly and warmly to our breast,
 
 ANCIENT ERRORS. 151 
 
 And call the monster kind and good, 
 And would not slay it if we could. 
 Hydra, the snake of ancient time. 
 Born, "bred and nurtured in the slime, 
 Nine-headed, under truthful skies. 
 Was but the type of all the lies 
 That in our era, as of old, 
 Defy assaults, however bold, 
 That flourish in prodigious growth 
 In the morass of mental sloth, 
 And twist and turn and press and crawl, 
 And leave their traces over all !
 
 152 BALLADS AND LYRICS. 
 
 AN APPEAL TO THE PREACHERS OF ALL 
 THE CREEDS. 
 
 I. 
 Cease your drowsy disputations, 
 
 Ye who'd preach the Word divine ; 
 Pouring out your turbid waters, 
 
 When we thirst for Hving wine ; 
 Speak the truth as if you meant it, 
 
 And would turn the wrong to right, — 
 Not as if you half denied it, 
 
 And mistook the dark for Hght! 
 
 II. 
 
 Like a slow and oozy river, 
 
 Neither clear nor broad nor deep, 
 Flows your weary stream of doctrine. 
 
 With a drone that luljs to sleep ; 
 Words like 3^ours bring no conviction. 
 
 Prick no conscience, touch no heart. 
 And from sin's destructive courses 
 
 Warn no sinner to depart.
 
 TO THE PREACHERS OF ALL CREEDS. 1 53 
 
 III. 
 Leave your dry, unfruitful dogmas, 
 
 Faith unreasoning, credence blind, 
 All the little narrow circles 
 
 Where you wander, self-confined, 
 Plashing in the mire and puddle 
 Of your small, sectarian pond, 
 "Heedless of the mighty ocean 
 
 And the boundless heaven beyond. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Is there nothing more to preach of 
 
 Than the letter of the law, — 
 Nothing left to feed the people 
 
 But the barren husk and straw. 
 Nothing for the unbelievers 
 
 In a creed their souls disclaim, 
 But eternity of torment 
 
 And the unconsuming flame ? 
 
 v. 
 Nobler themes than these invite you, 
 
 If you'd throb as throbs the time. 
 And would speak to hearts responsive 
 
 Words more human, more sublime.
 
 154 BALLADS AND LYRICS. 
 
 " God is Love, and Love eternal ; — 
 All things change, but nothing dies ; " 
 
 Find this gospel, and expound it, 
 In the Bible of the skies. 
 
 VI. 
 
 O'er the starry vault of midnight 
 
 See the countless worlds outspread, — 
 Momes, perchance, of nobler creatures 
 
 Than our planet ever bred, — 
 Larger than the earth and fairer, 
 
 And then limit, if you can, 
 God's great love to one poor corner, 
 
 And one little creature — man. 
 
 VII. 
 
 God — our God — whose works surround us, 
 
 Preaches in the summer wind, 
 In the tempest of the ocean, 
 
 In the silence of the mind, 
 In the sparkle of the planets, 
 
 In the splendour of- the sun. 
 In the voice of all creation, — 
 
 ** God is Love, and God is one ; "
 
 TO THE PREACHERS OF ALL CREEDS. 1 55 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Preaches ever, and for ever, 
 
 That for Him who made us all 
 There is neither past nor future, 
 
 Time nor space, nor great nor small. 
 But one vast eternal Present, 
 
 Filled with Love for all that are, 
 - From the dwellers in a dewdrop 
 
 To the peoples of a star. 
 
 IX. 
 
 " Love and infinite progression," 
 
 These the secrets of the sky, 
 Open to the humblest spirit 
 
 That but asks and wonders why ; 
 Shut alone from hostile churches, 
 
 Struggling each to rule, or be. 
 Who distress both faith and reason, — ■ 
 
 Blind because they will not see. 
 
 X. 
 
 Give, oh give us true religion. 
 
 Ye who'd preach the Word divine, 
 
 We reject your tepid water, 
 We're athirst for living wine.
 
 156 BALLADS AND LYRICS. 
 
 Rouse the heart, awake the conscience, 
 Look beneath you, look above ; 
 
 Evil is but disobedience, — 
 God is Justice — God is Love !
 
 157 
 
 THE TRUE SOURCE OF BEAUTY. 
 
 The eagle on the misty mountain-top, 
 
 That overlooks whole countries stretched below 
 
 In varied beauty, has no eyes to see 
 
 The splendour of the landscape ; the sea-mew, 
 
 Careering o'er the wilderness of waves. 
 
 With sunlight streaming on its snowy wings, 
 
 Knows nothing of the grandeur of the storm 
 
 That grasps the wanton billows by the crest 
 
 And twists them into cataracts of foam. 
 
 The hungry dog, -made happy by a bone, 
 
 Beholds no beauty in the waving woods. 
 
 Or in the roseate glories of the dawn ; 
 
 The gallant steed, whose hoof disdains the ground. 
 
 Snorts passionate joy as he surveys his mate 
 
 With supple limbs and friendly arching neck, 
 
 But fails to understand what men can see 
 
 In human beauty, be it as superb 
 
 As Aphrodite's in her youthful grace, 
 
 In perfect symmetry, divinely nude.
 
 158 BALLADS AND LYRICS. 
 
 Mind is the mother of all loveliness, 
 The soul of nature, else inanimate. 
 That robes creation in the glorious light 
 That common eyes are powerless to behold. 
 And tunes the voiceless harmonies of heaven 
 To audible raptures heard but of the soul. 
 
 Mind is the Man ; and he who wilfully 
 Neglects the priceless treasure, or in sloth 
 And coarse indulgence common to the brutes, 
 Sinks to their level, throws away the crown 
 That marks him king, and abdicates the right 
 Of high dominion given him by his God.
 
 159 
 
 DAY-DREAMS. 
 
 Dozing in the sunshine 
 
 'Mid the summer grass, 
 O'er my eyes half-opened 
 Gorgeous visions pass : 
 Through my teeming fancy, 
 
 Vagabond and free. 
 Stream in endless lustre 
 Worlds of gramarye, — 
 In a long procession 
 
 Float majestic halls. 
 Cities bright as amber 
 
 Girt with golden walls, 
 Realms of magic splendour, 
 
 Mine to have and hold, 
 And enjoy undoubting 
 Till the tale is told ; 
 Sirens, houris, angels 
 Beautiful and kind,
 
 l6o BALLADS AND LYRICS. 
 
 Flit and fly and hover 
 
 Through my careless mind ; 
 Kaiser ! is thine empire 
 
 Half as rich as mine ? 
 King ! canst thou surpass me 
 
 With thy glare and shine ? 
 Croesus ! hast thou riches 
 
 That with mine can vie ? 
 Pope ! hast thou dominion 
 
 Absolute as I ?
 
 i6i 
 
 AN APPEAL. 
 
 Death, when thou comest, do not linger long; 
 
 Take me home gently : I am weak — thou'rt strong ! 
 
 I fear thee not, but would not have thee wait 
 
 At my bedside, or hover at my gate : 
 
 Be merciful, as all the strong should be. 
 
 And spare my struggles as my soul goes free ! 
 
 II 
 
 i
 
 1 62 BALLADS AND LYRICS. 
 
 ONCE ON A TIME. 
 
 Once on a time — 'twas in the " Long Ago," 
 When our hearts were pure as the drifted snow- 
 
 The skies were bluer, 
 
 The truth was truer, 
 The sun and the moon shed -brighter rays 
 Than they ever shed in our later days! 
 Oh the time, the bonnie Gone-by ! 
 Will its like never shine in the beautiful sky 
 In the sunset of life as it did in the morn ? 
 Oh, never again ! if the heart forlorn 
 Heeds not the joy that the passing hours 
 Offer as gifts from the heavenly powers, 
 And scorns to pluck the fruit from the bough 
 Of the ever kind and bountifj.il Now ! 
 Let us enjoy the passing day 
 That all too rapidly fades, away, 
 And swell no more with sighs and frets 
 And unavailing though fond regrets
 
 ONCE ON A TIME. 1 63 
 
 For the Past that was Present and offered us joy 
 That we did our utmost to destroy. 
 
 'Tis the heart grown hard, 'tis the sight grown 
 dull, ' 
 That draws a veil over the beautiful : 
 The Present has claims upon heart and head ; 
 To-day is vigorous — Yesterday's dead !
 
 1 64 BALLADS AND LYRICS. 
 
 A THOUGHT : 
 In the Spring Sunshine. 
 
 The flowers lock up to the Sun, their God, 
 
 And worship him with their beauty— 
 'Tis all their frailty has to give, 
 
 But enough for Love and Duty. 
 The unfolding leaves on the forest trees 
 
 With hope and gladness quiver. 
 And the birds sing praises on the bough 
 
 To the bountiful Life-Giver. 
 
 But men delight to trade in War ; 
 
 And if they slay their brother, 
 They urge that Law demands the deed— 
 
 'Tis fair as any other»; 
 They take no heed of the God in heaven, 
 
 Or His sun that shines in gladness: 
 Pity them, birds ! Pity them, flowers ! 
 
 Pity their hate and madness!
 
 i65 
 
 FRIENDLY DISAPPOINTMENT. 
 
 I. 
 
 vStern Disappointment ! you're my friend, 
 
 Although you're hard to bear ! 
 I've looked for joy, and in its stead 
 
 You've brought me near despair ; 
 I sought for pearls of priceless worth, 
 
 And from your cruel store 
 You've given me mosses from the rocks 
 
 And pebbles from the shore. 
 
 II. 
 
 But heavy as your touch has been, 
 
 I've learned to bear its weight. 
 And drawing good from seeming ill, 
 
 I've struggled with my fate ; 
 And when the agony has passed. 
 
 Beheld with glad surprise 
 That pain and sorrow and distress 
 
 Were blessings in disguise.
 
 1 66 BALLADS AND LYRICS. 
 
 III. 
 I've learned that granite from the rock 
 
 And pebbles from the tide 
 May be employed to useful ends 
 
 When pearls have been denied ; 
 So, Disappointment, do your worst ! 
 
 And, scorning to complain, 
 I'll stand unconquered, and confess 
 
 You've not been sent in vain !
 
 167 
 
 THE TRUE CHRISTIAN. 
 
 I. 
 If thou'rt a Christian 
 
 In deed and thought, 
 Loving thy neighbour 
 
 As Jesus taught, — 
 Living all days 
 
 In the sight of Heaven, 
 And not one only 
 
 Out of seven, — 
 Sharing thy wealth 
 
 With the suffering poor, 
 Helping all sorrow 
 
 That Hope can cure, — 
 Making religion 
 
 A truth in the heart. 
 And not a cloak 
 
 To be worn in the mart. 
 Or in high cathedrals 
 
 And chapels and fanes.
 
 1 68 BALLADS AND LYRICS. 
 
 Where priests are traders 
 And count the gains, — 
 All God's angels will say, " Well done ! " 
 Whenever thy mortal race is run. 
 
 White and forgiven, 
 
 Thou'lt enter heaven, 
 And pass, unchallenged, the golden gate. 
 Where welcoming spirits watch and wait 
 To hail thy coming with sweet accord 
 To the holy city of God the Lord ! 
 
 II. 
 
 If Peace is thy prompter, 
 
 And Love is thy guide. 
 And white-robed Charity 
 
 Walks by thy side, — 
 If thou tellest the truth 
 
 Without oath to bind, 
 Doing thy duty 
 
 To all mankind,* — 
 Raising the lowly, 
 
 Cheering the sad. 
 Finding some goodness 
 
 Even in the bad.
 
 THE TRUE CHRISTIAN. 169 
 
 And owning with sadness, 
 
 If badness there be, 
 There might have been badness 
 
 In thine and in thee. 
 If Conscience the warder 
 That keeps thee whole 
 Had uttered no voice 
 "^ ^ To thy slumbering soul, — 
 
 All God's angels will say, " Well done ! " 
 Whenever thy mortal race is run. 
 White and forgiven, 
 Thou'lt enter heaven. 
 And pass, unchallenged, the golden gate. 
 Where welcoming spirits watch and wait 
 To hail thy coming with sweet accord 
 To the holy ciiy of God the Lord ! 
 
 III. 
 
 If thou art humble. 
 
 And wilt not scorn, 
 However wretched, 
 
 A brother forlorn, — 
 If thy purse is open 
 
 To misery's call.
 
 lyo BALLADS AND LYRICS. 
 
 And the God thou lovest 
 
 Is God of all, 
 Whatever their colour, 
 
 Clime or creed, 
 Blood of thy blood, 
 
 In their sorest need, — 
 If every cause 
 
 That is good and true. 
 And needs assistance 
 
 To dare and do, 
 Thou helpest on 
 
 Through good and ill, 
 With trust in Heaven, 
 And God's good will, — 
 All God's angels will say, "Well done!" 
 Whenever thy mortal race is run. 
 White and forgiven, 
 Thou'lt enter heaven, 
 And pass, unchallenged, the golden gate, 
 Where welcoming spirits watch and wait 
 To hail thy coming witli sweet accord 
 To the holy city of God the Lord !
 
 171 
 
 WE DARE NOT. 
 
 We clare not, no ! we dare not do them justice, 
 
 The great good men that flourish in our time, 
 The noble souls that urge mankind to effort 
 
 By high example or by thoughts sublime ; 
 The praise we give them, though our hearts may feel it, 
 
 Must find no utterance on the willing tongue, 
 Lest the base crowd should scorn or misinterpret 
 
 The unselfish homage too profusely flung, 
 Lest they should deem it born of sordid motive. 
 
 Or think 'tis fate whatever may befall, 
 That in life's cruel and incessant struggle 
 
 Praise of the .Great is injury to the Small. 
 
 Wait till they're dead ! The time to do them justice 
 Is when the daisies grow upon the grave. 
 
 And rueful Memory sheds a trail of glory 
 Upon the pathways of the good and brave !
 
 172 BALLADS AND LYRICS. 
 
 The future is the heritage of greatness, 
 Whether it bloom in action or in song ; 
 
 Injustice and neglect may shroud the living, 
 But Death impartial rectifies the wrong !
 
 PART II. 
 THISTLEDOWN AND HIGHLAND HEATHER.
 
 175 
 
 TO MY OLD HIGHLAND PLAID. 
 
 I. 
 
 For forty years thou'st been mine own, 
 
 Cozie aye and. ready, 
 Over my breast and shoulders thrown, 
 
 My faithful plaidie 1 
 My sheltering shield in wintry days 
 
 And in the nights of summer. 
 My pillow when the needful sleep 
 
 Was an uncertain comer. 
 
 II. 
 
 Never hast thou been false to me, 
 
 Cozie aye and ready, 
 Warm at my neck, snug at my knee, 
 
 My faithful plaidie ! 
 We've clomb the hills, we've tracked the streams. 
 
 We've trod the moorland heather, 
 We've wandered through remotest lands. 
 
 And braved the storms together.
 
 176 THISTLEDOWN AND HIGHLAND HEATHER. 
 
 III. 
 
 Since first I donned thee, fresh and new, 
 
 Cozie aye and ready, 
 We have been comrades tried and true, 
 
 My faithful plaidie 1 
 While suits, full twenty, that I've worn. 
 
 And spent a pile of cash on, 
 Have faded into shabbiness, 
 
 And perished out of fashion. 
 
 IV. 
 
 What changes we have seen since then, 
 
 Lingering and unready, 
 In fate, in circumstance, in men, 
 
 My faithful plaidie ! 
 Old friends, old loves, estranged and dead. 
 
 Have dimmed to shadows only, 
 And flit before my mournful thought 
 
 To whisper that I'm lonely. 
 
 V. 
 
 ♦ 
 And when thy folds I round me wrap, 
 
 Cozie aye and ready, 
 
 I often think it sore mishap. 
 
 My faithful plaidie !
 
 TO MY OLD HIGHLAND PLAID. IJJ 
 
 That thy stout fabric should endure 
 
 When youth's fond hopes have perished, 
 
 Or the grave holds the senseless clay 
 Of those I loved and cherished. 
 
 VI. 
 
 The years have robbed my limbs of strength, 
 
 To spoil me ever ready ; 
 BuC thou art staunch in width and length, 
 
 ' My faithful plaidie ! 
 Thy web is firm in warp and woof; 
 
 But flesh and bones grown weary, 
 Make life no longer what it was 
 
 When we were young, my dearie ! 
 
 VII. 
 
 Stay with me still, mine ancient friend ! 
 
 Cozie aye and ready, 
 Until the fast approaching end, 
 
 My faithful plaidie! 
 And when the hand of Fate shall snap 
 
 The mortal chain that bound me, 
 I'll ask no better burial-cloth 
 
 Than thou to wrap around me ! 
 
 12
 
 178 THISTLEDOWN AND HIGHLAND HEATHER. 
 
 STRATHNAVER NO MORE. 
 
 I. 
 
 Bonnie Strathnaver,* extinct are the fires 
 
 That glowed on the hearths of our true-hearted 
 
 sires, 
 Where we sat at the gloaming and learned at the 
 
 knee 
 The deeds of the Clan in the days of the free. 
 
 II. 
 
 Red-handed Oppression, that calls itself Law, 
 Has swept through the land, spreading havoc and 
 awe ; 
 
 * " Sutherlandshire was formerly a populous county, inhabited 
 by a quiet, orderly, brave, religious race of men, remarkable for 
 their fine forms, great bodily' strength and high military qualities. 
 . . . Since sheep have found their way to these pastures, this 
 country is one wide and waste solitud(^. . . . Where three or four 
 shepherds, with their dogs, can take charge of a district twenty 
 miles in extent, it is not surprising if we wander for days 
 without seeing the traces of human life — solitary as the sands 
 of Africa or the immeasurable ocean." — Critical examination of 
 Dr. MacCulloch's work on the " Highlands and Western Isles 
 of Scotland " (Edinburgh, 1825).
 
 ' STRATH N AVER NO MORE. 1 79 
 
 And, fierce as a whirlwind, laid low in the dust 
 The sheltering homes of the brave and the just; 
 
 III. 
 Laid low to the earth the abodes of the men 
 That once were the glory and pride of the glen, 
 Who fought for their country when Duty appeal'd 
 And Victory summoned her sons to the field. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Brave men and true women were fruits of the line, 
 And grew on our moors in the old happy time, 
 Ere the land was considered God's gift to the few 
 With absolute right to possess and subdue ; 
 
 V. 
 
 Ere hucksters succeeded the noble and brave, 
 And robbed us alike of a home and a grave, 
 And cared not for harvests of barley and corn. 
 While deer could be hunted and sheep could be 
 shorn ; 
 
 VI. 
 
 While cattle and grouse could be turned into gold, 
 And men like our fathers, those heroes of old. 
 Brave in heart, strong in hand, clear of purpose 
 
 and head, 
 Were worthless as merchandise, living or dead.
 
 i8o THISTLEDOWN AND HIGHLAND HEATHER. 
 
 VII. 
 
 So the cot was pulled down, and laid waste the 
 
 kail-yard, 
 And turned into wilderness fruitless and hard 
 For the sheep or the deer and the shy ptarmigan — 
 For anything, everything, rather than man. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Bonnie Strathnaver ! we see thee in dreams, 
 
 Thy craigs and thy corries, thy braes and thy 
 
 streams ; 
 We tread the green heath, we clamber the Bens, 
 And wail for the woe of the desolate glens, 
 
 IX. 
 
 And think of the time when a perishing realm, 
 That rivals invade and that foes overwhelm. 
 Shall call, but in vain, for the aid unsuborned 
 Of the men it misgoverned, insulted, and scorned : 
 
 X. 
 
 Shall call, but in vain, in its right of endeavour. 
 For the help it has banished for ever and ever 
 Of the clansmen, the noble, the strong and the 
 
 brave. 
 Who wander afar o'er the wild western wave.
 
 STRATH N AVER NO MORE. l8l 
 
 XI. 
 
 Strathnaver ! Strathnaver ! farewell evermore, 
 We're banished afar from thy beautiful shore ; 
 But cherish the hope through all sorrow and pain 
 That Right shall be Might in Strathnaver again !
 
 1 82 THISTLEDOWN AND HIGHLAND HEATHER. 
 
 DONALD MACLEOD. 
 
 Donald Macleod ! Wouldst hear his story told ? 
 
 No stormy legend of the days of old — 
 
 Of war and tournament and high emprize, 
 
 Or knightly feuds beneath fair ladies' eyes ; 
 
 But a true story of our modern time, 
 
 Such as befel, in cold Canadian clime, 
 
 A dozen winters past, Donald Macleod, 
 
 A poor man, one of millions, in the crowd. 
 
 A stalwart wight he was, whom but to see 
 Were to wish friend rather than enemy ; 
 A smith by trade, a bluff, hard-working man, 
 Proud of his sires, his race, his name, his Clan. 
 His strong right arm could hurl a foeman down 
 Like ball a skittle ; his broad brow was brown 
 With honest toil, and in his clear blue eye 
 Lurked strength to conquer fortune or defy. 
 Few were his words, and those but rough at best, 
 But truthful ever as his own true breast ;
 
 DONALD MACLEOD. 183 
 
 Of homely nature, not of winning ways, 
 
 Or given to tears, or overmuch of praise ; 
 
 But with a heart as guileless as a child's 
 
 Of seven years old that frolicks in the wilds. 
 
 Ere Donald left his shieling in the glen, 
 
 By the burnside that tumbles down the Ben 
 
 On grey Lochaber's melancholy shore, 
 
 And. sighed, like others, " I return no more," 
 
 To try his fortune in the fight of life 
 
 In a new world, with fairer field for strife 
 
 Than Scotland offers, overfilled with brains, 
 
 Yet scant of acres to reward their pains. 
 
 He woo'd with simple speech a Highland maid, 
 
 Sweet as the opening flow'ret in the shade, 
 
 And asked her, " Would she quit her native land. 
 
 Her mother's love,, her father's guiding hand, 
 
 And make another sunshine far away, 
 
 For him alone ? " She blessed the happy day 
 
 That a good man, so honest and so brave. 
 
 Had sought the heart and hand she freely gave. 
 
 To see the pair — the man so massive, strong ; 
 The maid so frail, yet winsome as a song — 
 You might have thought the oak had chosen for bride 
 The gowan glinting on the green hillside.
 
 1 84 THISTLEDOWN AND HIGHLAND HEATHER. 
 
 And Jeanie Cameron, happy wife was she, 
 Sailing with Donald o'er the summer sea, 
 And dreaming, as the good ship cleft the foam, 
 Of independence and a happy home 
 On that abundant and rejoicing soil 
 That asks but hands to recompense their toil. 
 And Fortune favoured them, as Fortune will 
 All who add strength and virtue to good-will. 
 And Donald's hands found always work to do, 
 Work well repaid, which, growing, ever grew ; 
 Work and its fair reward, but seldom known 
 In the old land whence hopeful he had flown ; 
 Work all-sufficient for the passing day, 
 With something left to hoard and put away. 
 Content and Donald never dwelt apart. 
 And Love and Jeanie nestled at his heart. 
 
 In summer eves, his face towards the sun. 
 He loved to sit, his long day's labour done. 
 And smoke his pipe beneath the sycamore 
 That cast cool shadows at his cottage door, 
 And hear his bonnie Jean, like morning lark. 
 Or nightingale preluding to the dark. 
 Sing the old Gaelic melancholy songs 
 Of Scotland's glory, Scotland's rights and wrongs,
 
 DONALD MACLEOD. 1 85 
 
 Or true love ditties of the olden time, 
 
 Breathing of highland glens and moorland thyme. 
 
 Thus years wore on. Their sky seemed sunny blue, 
 Without a cloud to shade the distant view 
 Of happiness to come. A child was born ; 
 Fresh to the father's heart as light of morn, 
 Sweet to the mother's as a dream of heaven, — 
 A blessing asked, but scarcely hoped when given. 
 Most dearly prized ! Alas ! for human joy, 
 That Fortune never builds but to destroy : 
 The child was purchased by the mother's health ; 
 And Donald's heart grew heavy as by stealth 
 He gazed, and saw the sadness in her smile 
 That lit, yet half extinguished it the while; 
 For, ah ! poor Jeanie was too fair and frail 
 
 * 
 
 To bear unscathed Canadia's wintry gale; 
 And hectic roses flourished on her cheek, 
 Filling his heart with grief too great to speak. 
 
 Long, long, he watched her, and essayed to find 
 Comfort and hope. At last upon his mind 
 Burst suddenly the thought that he'd forego 
 All that he earned in that New World of woe, 
 And bear her back, ere utterly forlorn. 
 To the moist mountain clime where she was born ;
 
 1 86 THISTLEDOWN AND HIGHLAND HEATHER. 
 
 To dear Lochaber and the Highland hills, 
 And wave-invaded glens and wimpling rills, 
 Where first he found her ! Late, alas ! too late ! 
 
 " Donald," she said, " I feel approaching fate. 
 
 And may not travel o'er the stormy sea 
 
 To die on shipboard, and be torn from thee ; 
 
 Here let me linger till I go to rest ; 
 
 Time may be short or long, God knoweth best. 
 
 But, as the tree that's planted in the ground. 
 
 And sheds its blossoms and its leaves around, 
 
 Dies where it lives, so let me live and die 
 
 Where thou hast brought me 'twixt the earth and 
 
 sky. 
 Fd not be buried in th' Atlantic wave, 
 But in brown earth, with daisies on my grave ; 
 Fresh blooming gowans from Lochaber's braes, 
 With Scottish earth enough, the mound to raise 
 Above my head. Donald, let this be done. 
 When your poor Jeanie's mortal race is run ! " 
 
 The strong man wept. "Jeanie," was all he said, 
 " Oh, Jeanie, Jeanie ! " and he bowed his head, 
 And hid his face behind his honest hands, 
 The saddest man in all those happy lands.
 
 DONALD MACLEOD. 1 87 
 
 " Jeanie," he said, "ye maunna, maunna dee, 
 And leave the world to misery and me ! " 
 
 " Donald," she' answered, " woeful is the strife 
 That my warm heart is fighting for its life ; 
 And much as I desire for thy dear sake, 
 And the wee bairn's, to live till age o'ertake, 
 I fee] it cannot be. God's will is all ; 
 Let us accept it, whatsoe'er befall." 
 
 And Jeanie died. She had not lain i' the mools 
 Three days ere Donald laid aside his tools, 
 And closed his forge, and took his passage home 
 To Glasgow, for Lochaber o'er the foam ; 
 Alone with sorrow and alone with Love, 
 The two but one to lead his heart above. 
 And long ere forty days had run their round 
 Donald was back upon Canadian ground ; 
 Donald, the tender heart, the rough, the brave. 
 With earth and gowans for his true love's grave.
 
 1 88 THISTLEDOWN AND HIGHLAND HEA THER. 
 
 WHEN THE CLANS ENJOY THEIR OWN 
 
 AGAIN. 
 
 (Air: "Prince Charlies Welcome to Skye") 
 
 There is plenty in the land, 
 If its lords would understand 
 
 Their duty to the people in the glens where they 
 were born : 
 
 There is barley for the " bree," 
 There are herring in the sea, 
 There are peats upon the moor, there is grass for 
 hoof and horn, 
 
 There are kail-yards for the kail. 
 There is milk to fill the pail. 
 
 And farms and crofts and pastures in the shadows 
 of the Ben, 
 
 And as true as dark grows light, 
 When the morning follows night. 
 
 The Clans shall enjoy their own again !
 
 WHEN THE CLANS ENJOY THEIR OWN 1 89 
 
 II. 
 In the happy days of old, 
 Ere the cruel greed of gold 
 Drove justice from the hearts of traders in the 
 soil, 
 
 There was earth to dig and plough, 
 There was forage for the cow, 
 And meal and malt and raiment for the sons of 
 honest toil ; 
 
 And it's coming yet ere long, 
 When the right shall " ding " the wrong, 
 And our rulers learn that cattle are of less account 
 than men ; 
 
 And the struggle shall be won, 
 And justice shall be done, 
 And the Clans shall enjoy their own again !
 
 1 90 THISTLE DO WN AND HIGHLAND HE A THER. 
 
 THE BURIAL MARCH OF KING DUNCAN. 
 
 [Tradition records that the body of King Duncan, slain by 
 Macbeth, was carried in a solemn procession of bards and warriors 
 from Inverness to lona, the ancient burial-place of the kings of 
 Scotland. Shakespeare mentions the fact in his matchless 
 tragedy of Macbeth — Act II., Scene 3— when Macduff, in answer 
 to the question, "Where is Duncan's body?" replies: 
 "Carried to Colme'Kill, 
 The sacred storehouse of his ancestors 
 And guardian of their bones." 
 
 The name of Colme Kill, or Icolmkill, has long been superseded 
 by that of lona, a contraction of Innis-Shona, pronounced Innis- 
 ona, or the " Holy Island." The chapel adjoining the cathedral 
 is dedicated to St. Oran. The two recurring lines, in quaint 
 old spelling, of the following ballad are taken from a funeral 
 dirge, or coronach, of the thirteenth century, which has been 
 reprinted in collections of legends and poetry.] 
 
 Wise in council, strong in fight, 
 
 Every daye attd mile-a, 
 Foe of wrong and friend of right, 
 
 Cliriste receive, his saide-a ! 
 Vengeance slumbers on our path. 
 
 And awaits the morrow,
 
 THE BURIAL MARCH OF KING DUNCAN. 19 1 
 
 When 'twill waken in its wrath, 
 
 After toil and sorrow. 
 March we now o'er hill and glen 
 
 On to Innis-Shona, 
 The place of rest he loved the best, 
 
 The Isle of Saints — lona ! 
 
 ."' 
 
 . ' Warriors bear him to the grave 
 
 Every daye and aule-a ; 
 Merciful and mild and brave, 
 
 Christe receive his saule-a ! 
 Bards rehearse his deeds of fame 
 
 In our Highland story; 
 All the people shout his name, 
 
 Thinking of his glory, 
 Bear him over strath and hill, 
 
 Safe to Innis-Shona, 
 The place of rest he loved the best. 
 
 The Isle of Saints — lona ! 
 
 III. 
 Sound the pibroch as we go. 
 
 Every daye and aide-a ! 
 Loud and sad in wailing woe, 
 
 Christe receive his saide-a !
 
 192 THISTLEDOWN AND HIGHLAND HEATHER. 
 
 Hard oppression's cruel chain 
 
 Snapped or shrunk before him ; 
 Sorrow never sighed in vain 
 
 When it would implore him. 
 Bear him to his honoured grave, 
 
 Deep in Innis-Shona, 
 The place of rest he loved the best, 
 
 The Isle of Saints — lona ! 
 
 IV. 
 
 St. Columba gone before, 
 
 Every dayc and aulc-a ! 
 Waits his body on the shore, 
 
 Christe receive his saide-a ! 
 Waits amid th' expectant ghosts 
 
 Of the great departed, 
 Bards and kings and warrior hosts 
 
 And sages noble-hearted ! 
 Bear him proudly to the grave, 
 
 On to Innis-Shona, 
 The place of rest he loved the best, 
 
 The holy Isle — lona. 
 
 v.' 
 Oran's ancient shrine shall hear, 
 Every daye and aide-a !
 
 THE BURIAL MARCH OF KING DUNCAN. 1 93 
 
 Holy anthems ringing clear, 
 
 Christe receive his saiile-a ! 
 As we lay him in the tomb, 
 
 The' appointed portal. 
 Through a vestibule of gloom, 
 
 To the home immortal. 
 Bear him slowly to the grave, 
 
 Deep in Innis-Shona, 
 ' The place of rest he loved the best, 
 
 The holy Isle — lona, 
 
 VI. 
 
 Fire is quenched, and light is fled, 
 
 Every daye and anle-a ! 
 Albyn mourns her hero dead, 
 
 Christe receive his saide-a ! 
 If in darker days to be, 
 
 Evil fate betide us, 
 Chiefs and kings as brave as he 
 
 God will send to guide us. 
 Lay him in his honoured grave, 
 
 Deep in Innis-Shona, 
 The holy place by God's good grace, 
 
 The Isle of Saints — lona !
 
 194 THISTLEDOWN AND HIGHLAND HEATHER. 
 
 THE CANADIAN HIGHLANDER. 
 
 I. 
 
 Thanks to my sires, I'm Highland born, 
 
 And trod the moorland and the heather 
 Since childhood and this soul of mine 
 
 First came into the world together ; 
 I've " paddled " barefoot in the burn. 
 
 Roamed on the braes to pu' the gowan, 
 Or clomb the granite cliffs to pluck 
 
 The scarlet berries of the rowan. 
 
 II. 
 And when the winds blew loud and shrill 
 
 I've scaled the heavenward summits hoary 
 Of grey Ben Nevis or his peers 
 
 In all their solitary glory. 
 And with enraptured eyes of youth 
 
 Have seen half Scotland spread before me, 
 And proudly thought, with flashing eyes, 
 
 How noble was the land that bore me.
 
 THE CANADIAN HIGHLANDER. 1 95 
 
 III. ; 
 
 Alas ! the land denied me bread, 
 
 Land -of my sires in bygone ages, 
 Land of the Wallace and the Bruce, 
 
 And countless heroes, bards and sages ; 
 It had no place for me and mine, 
 
 No elbow-room to stand alive in, 
 ,Nor rood of kindly mother earth 
 
 For honest industry to thrive in. 
 
 IV. 
 
 'Twas parcell'd out in wide domains 
 
 By cruel law's resistless fiat, 
 So that the sacred herds of deer 
 
 Might roam the wilderness in quiet. 
 Untroubled b_^ the foot of man. 
 
 On mountain-side or sheltering corrie, 
 Lest sport should fail, and selfish wealth 
 
 Be disappointed of its quarry. 
 
 V. 
 
 The laws of acres deemed the clans 
 Were aliens at the best, or foemen, 
 
 And that the grouse, the sheep, the beeves, 
 Were worthier animals than yeomen ;
 
 196 THISTLEDOWN AND HIGHLAND HEATHER. 
 
 And held that men might live or die 
 Where'er their fate or fancy led them, 
 
 Except among the highland hills, 
 
 Where noble mothers bore and bred them. 
 
 VI, 
 
 In agony of silent tears. 
 
 The partner of my soul beside me, 
 I crossed the seas to find the home 
 
 That Scotland cruelly denied me ; 
 And found it on Canadian soil. 
 
 Where man is man in life's brave battle, 
 And not, as in my native glens, 
 
 Of less importance than the cattle. 
 
 VII. 
 
 And here, with steadfast faith in God, 
 
 Strong with t^e strength I gained in sorrow, 
 I've looked the future in the face. 
 
 Nor feared the hardships of the morrow, — 
 Assured that if I strove aright 
 
 Good end would follow good beginning. 
 And that the bread, if not the gold. 
 
 Would never fail me in the winning.
 
 THE CANADIAN HIGHLANDER. 1 97 
 
 VIII. 
 
 And every day, as years roll on 
 
 And "touch my brow with age's finger, 
 I learn to cherish more and more 
 
 The land where love delights to linger. 
 In thoughts by day, and dreams by night, 
 
 Fond memory recalls, and blesses 
 Its heathery braes, its mountain peaks, 
 
 Its straths and glens and wildernesses. 
 
 IX. 
 
 And hope revives at memory's call 
 
 That Scotland, crushed and landlord-ridden, 
 May yet find room for all her sons. 
 
 Nor treat .the humblest as unbidden ; 
 Room for the brave, the staunch, the true. 
 
 As in the days of olden story, 
 When men out-valued grouse and deer. 
 
 And lived their lives — their country's glory !
 
 198 THISTLEDOWN AND HIGHLAND ^HEATHER. 
 
 AN APPEAL TO THE CHURCHES NORTH 
 OF THE TWEED. 
 
 I. 
 
 Gree ! bairnies, gree ! 
 Thou guid auld kirk, thou braw new tree ! 
 And independent stark U. P., 
 Tell us the good o' a' the pother, 
 If ane's the very same as t'other. 
 And each the image of his brother, — 
 
 Gree ! bairnies, gree ! 
 
 II. 
 
 Gree ! bairnies, gree ! 
 If ane be weak, there's strength in three, 
 Ye're a' but twigs o' ane good tree; 
 Ye waste your wit in hostile clatter, 
 About precedence at the platter, 
 So sit down cannie and grow fatter ! 
 
 Gree ! bairnies, gree !
 
 AN APPEAL TO THE CHURCHES. 1 99 
 
 III. 
 
 Gree ! bairnies, gree ! 
 The people's hand is large and free, 
 And widely opened it will be, 
 Wi' largess well deserved and ample, 
 If on your foolish pride you'd trample. 
 And set the world a bright example, 
 
 Gree ! bairnies, gree ! 
 
 IV. 
 
 Gree ! bairnies, gree ! 
 The fiert a difference I can see, 
 Except in matter o' the fee : 
 Ye should walk cheerily togither. 
 And cease to fight wi' ane anither — 
 Nor hand aloof frae friend and brither, 
 
 Gree ! bairnies, gree !
 
 200 THISTLEDOWN AND HIGHLAND HEATHER. 
 
 CORN RIGS AND BARLEY RIGS. 
 
 I. 
 
 It fell upon a Lammas night, 
 
 When corn rigs were bonnie, 
 Beneath the moor's unclouded light 
 
 I held awa' to Annie ; 
 A lang, lang promised tryste we kept, 
 
 And 'twixt the late and early, 
 I took my staft' into my hand. 
 
 To meet her 'mang the barley. 
 Corn rigs and barley rigs. 
 
 And corn rigs are bonnie ; 
 I'll ne'er forget that happy night 
 
 Amang the rigs wi' Annie. 
 
 II. 
 The sky was blue,' the winds were still, 
 
 The moon was shining clearly, 
 I proffered her baith heart and hand 
 
 Among the rigs o' barley ;
 
 CORN RIGS AND BARLEY RIGS. 201 
 
 I vowed my heart was a' her ain, 
 
 I swore to love her dearly, 
 And bade her name the happy day, 
 
 Amang the rigs o' barley. 
 Corn rigs and barley rigs, 
 
 And corn rigs are bonnie ; 
 I'll ne'er forget that happy night 
 
 Amang the rigs wi' Annie. 
 
 III. 
 
 She named the day, the first o' May, 
 
 Her heart was beating rarely, 
 My blessings on her bonnie face 
 
 Amang the rigs o' barley ! 
 And since that time, in storm and shine, 
 
 'Tis twenty summers fairly, 
 We've never rued our wooin' time 
 
 Among the rigs o' barley. 
 Corn rigs and barley rigs, 
 
 And corn rigs are bonnie ; 
 I'll ne'er forget that happy night 
 
 Amang the rigs wi' Annie !
 
 202 THISTLEDOWN AND HIGHLAND HEATHER. 
 
 THE BONNIE LASS TOCHERLESS. 
 
 I HAE my tocher in my face, 
 
 And tocher in my voice, 
 And a dozen tochers in my heart, 
 
 To bid the lads rejoice. 
 Tochers in honours and in lands 
 
 May gang the gait they came, 
 But tochers in a lassie's love 
 
 Are aye the bonnie same ! 
 
 I hae nae tochers in the bank, 
 
 Except the bank of truth, 
 And faithful love and trust in Heaven, 
 
 And health and hope and youth. 
 So take me, laddie, if you will. 
 
 And if our love endure, 
 We'll walk the wide world hand in hand, 
 
 And never know we're poor !
 
 203 
 
 DEFIANCE. 
 
 I. 
 
 Should evil fortune grip us fast, 
 
 And aft it strives to fa' that, 
 We'll no be scared or trodden down, 
 
 But stand erect for a' that ! 
 We'll meet it fair, an' straight and square, 
 
 And if it's wrang we'll right it. 
 And hae the pride, whate'er betide. 
 
 To grapple wi't and fight it ! 
 
 II. 
 The greatest griefs, if bravely met, 
 
 Grow mean and sma' and a' that, 
 And if we're strong, they'll yield ere long, 
 
 And rin awa', and a' that ! 
 And if a nut defy our jaws. 
 
 And we are fain to crack it. 
 We'll tak' a hammer in our fist, 
 
 And spite of fate, we'll brak' it !
 
 20\ THISTLEDOWN AND HIGHLAND HEATHER. 
 
 MY BONNIE MARY ; OR, THE EMIGRANT. 
 
 I. 
 
 Come away, come away, my bonnie Mary, 
 Come away, come away, over the sea, 
 Albyn's no place for us, my bonnie Mary, 
 Landless and homeless wherever we be. 
 
 But there's a land, my dear, 
 
 Noble and grand, my dear, 
 
 With work for the willing, 
 
 And farms for the tilling, 
 Far away over the bonnie blue sea ; 
 Come away, come away, my bonnie Mary, 
 Come to the land of the brave and the free ! 
 
 II. 
 
 Come away, come away, my bonnie Mary, 
 Come away, come away, over the tide ; 
 Far, far behind us, my bonnie Mary, 
 Leaving the land where our forefathers died.
 
 MY BONNIE MARY; OR, THE EMIGRANT. 205 
 
 Far, far behind, my dear ; 
 
 Fortune's unkind, my dear, 
 
 Hardship's unfaihng. 
 
 Griefs unavailing, 
 But joy is before us, and hope long denied ; 
 Come away, come away, my bonnie Mary, 
 Love is our comfort, God be our Guide!
 
 206 THISTLEDOWN AND HIGHLAND HEATHER. 
 
 HE'S OWER THE HILLS. 
 
 He's ower the hills that I lo'e weel, 
 He's ower the hills that's true and leal, 
 He's ower the hills and ower the sea, 
 An' he'll come back to marry me. 
 
 That I had gear an' he had nane 
 Was cause o' mickle grief and pain; 
 For this they parted him and me, 
 But no' for ever — bide a wee ! 
 
 For a' my gear, wer't ten times told, 
 In lands, in houses, and in gold, 
 I'd gi'e it for one word alone. 
 The word that made him a' mine own. 
 
 The burnie wimplin' o'er the lea 
 Maun find the river and the sea. 
 And hearts that love, if strong as Fate, 
 Maun come thegither soon or late.
 
 HE'S OWER THE HILLS. 20/ 
 
 He's ower the hills that I lo'e weel, 
 He's ower the hills that's brave and leal, 
 He's ower the hills and ower the sea, 
 And he'll come back to marry me.
 
 20'^ HUSTLE DOWN AND HIGHLAND HEATHER, 
 
 THE BARLEY MILLER. 
 
 My friens a' pass me coldly by 
 
 An' glower an' glaik aboon me, 
 An' a' my bills come tumblin' in 
 Like billows that would droon me. 
 I'm. low doun, doun, doun, 
 Down for lack o' siller ; 
 I'm low doun, doun, doun, 
 Quoth the barley miller. 
 
 The lassie that I lo'ed fu' weel. 
 
 And courted late and early. 
 Has ta'en the gee (but bide a wee), 
 I'm sure she'll jilt me fairly. 
 I'm low doun, doun, doun, 
 Down for lack o' siller ; 
 I'm low doun, doun, doun. 
 Quoth the barley miller. 
 
 The boon companions ance I knew, 
 When they and I were couthie,
 
 THE BARLEY MILLER. 209 
 
 Have no' a plack in a' their pack 
 To lend me when I'm droutliie. 
 For I'm low doun, doun, ^doun, 
 
 Down for lack o' siller ; 
 
 I'm low doun, doun, doiin, 
 
 Quoth the barley miller. 
 
 And some there be who praised my wit 
 
 When I had fouth o' siller, 
 
 Who ca' me now a doited loon 
 
 And blethrin barley miller ! 
 
 For I'm low doun, doun, doun, 
 
 Doun for lack o' siller ; 
 I'm low doun, doun, doun, 
 Quoth the barley miller. 
 
 An' yet I think I'll bide my time, 
 
 Tho' Fortune sairly skelp me. 
 And trust brave heart and good right hand 
 To comfort me and help me. 
 Although I'm doun, doun, doun, 
 
 Doun for lack o' siller, 
 I'll no' be doun for evermore ! 
 Quoth the barley miller. 
 
 H
 
 2 1 THISTLEDOWN AND HIGHLAND HE A THER. 
 
 MY HEART'S IN THE HIGHLANDS. 
 
 I. 
 
 My heart's in the Highlands, my heart's in the glens, 
 Tracing the burnies and climbing the Bens, 
 Treading the heather and bracken so green, 
 With gowans and bluebells up-glinting between. 
 
 II. 
 
 My heart's in the land of the leal and the true, 
 The land of the kilt and the bonnets of blue. 
 Where the plaid never covered the breast of a slave, 
 And the lassies are fair and the laddies are brave. 
 
 III. ► 
 My heart's in the Highlands, the long summer day 
 
 t 
 
 Breathing the health-giving breeze on the brae. 
 And braving the tempests that gather below ; 
 My heart's in the Highlands, wherever I go.
 
 MV HEART'S IN THE HIGHLANDS. 211 
 
 IV. 
 
 My heart's in the Highlands, in sunshine and cloud, 
 On the loch, in the corrie far frae the crowd ; 
 By the rivers I love, in the glens where they flow. 
 My heart's in the Highlands, wherever I go!
 
 2\2 THISTLEDOWN AND HIGHLAND HEATHER. 
 
 LORD RONALD, AND THE TWO GREAT 
 
 CHESTS. 
 
 There lay two chests in tlic deep, deep earth 
 
 Under the castle tower, 
 Buried there for a thousand years 
 
 If they had lain an hour. 
 
 II. 
 
 The one contained a fearful plague 
 
 To desolate the land, 
 And work worse woe than e'er befell 
 
 From sword or flaming brand. 
 
 » 
 III. 
 
 The other held a precious gem 
 
 Of more transeendant worth 
 Than all the gold that e'er was dug 
 
 From the bowels of the earth.
 
 LORD RONALD. 213 
 
 IV. 
 
 They wfire as like in size and form, 
 
 Reposing side by side, 
 As the twin blue eyes in the happy face 
 
 Of a young and blooming bride. 
 
 d 
 
 V. 
 
 They were as like as the cherries twain 
 That grow on the selfsame tree. 
 
 Or the droplets of the summer rain 
 That falls into the sea. 
 
 VI. 
 
 And no man "dared, though many wished, 
 
 And had wished for ages long, 
 To open the lids of these awful chests 
 
 And force their fastenings strong. 
 
 VII. 
 
 They longed for treasure, but feared the Death 
 
 That was decreed the doom 
 Of the rash intruder who loosened the plague 
 
 To feed the ravenous tomb.
 
 214 THISTLEDOWN AND HIGHLAND HEATHER. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Lord Ronald was heir of the Castle lands, 
 And more than tongue could tell 
 
 He loved a maiden of low degree — 
 Sweet Ellen of Invernell. 
 
 IX. 
 
 She loved him truly in return, 
 
 But ever his suit denied 
 Unless his sire, a proud old Earl, 
 
 Looked favouring on his bride. 
 
 X. 
 
 But the father loved the rich red gold 
 As much as the brave young son 
 
 Loved the bright gleam of Ellen's eyes 
 And the ground she trod upon. 
 
 XI. 
 
 The Earl had chosen his son should wed 
 
 A lady fair and young. 
 With a dowry that might tempt a duke, 
 
 And from ancient lineage sprung.
 
 LORD RONALD. 21 5 
 
 XII. 
 
 But the 'wayward, love-enraptured boy 
 
 Despised the gold and land, 
 And where he could not give his heart 
 
 Refused to give his hand. 
 
 I. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 " I'll tempt the Fates ! " he suddenly said, 
 As he roamed in the woods alone ; 
 
 "And if I open the lucky chest, 
 I'll make my love mine own. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 " My sire shall have the gold he loves 
 
 If I open the golden chest. 
 And I will marry the girl I love — 
 
 My beautiful, my best ! 
 
 XV. 
 
 " And if it be my cruel fate 
 
 To open the chest of Death, 
 I'll die for Ellen and bless her name 
 
 With my departing breath."
 
 2 1 6 THISTLEDOWN AND HIGH LA ND HE A THER. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 Lord Ronald dug with spade and pick 
 
 From morn into the night, 
 And offered up an earnest prayer 
 
 That Heaven would guide him right. 
 
 xvn. 
 
 He found the coffers side by side, 
 And gazed with hope, yet dread, 
 
 Alike in hue, in form arid size, 
 As old tradition said. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 With desperate haste he wrench'd the lid 
 
 Of the one that offered first. 
 Hoping the best that might befall, 
 
 And reckless of the worst. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 He wrenched and wrenched, and found within 
 
 Nought but a parchment scroll, 
 On which was writ, in runic rhymes, 
 
 " God save the sinner's soul!
 
 LORD RONALD. 21/ 
 
 XX. 
 
 " The plague^ s already in the land, 
 
 Fear not a greater pest ; 
 ' Tis lust of gold that fills mankind : 
 
 Consult the other chest! 
 
 XXI. 
 
 Lord Ronald wiped his damp cold brow, 
 And breathed a prayer to Heaven : 
 
 " If I do wrong in seeking gold, 
 Be the offence forgiven ! 
 
 XXII. 
 
 " I sin for sake of woman's love, 
 
 And not for love of pelf; 
 And love no woman for her gold, 
 
 But only for herself." 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 He wrenched the lid, and wrenched again, 
 
 Till with a sudden spring 
 It flew wide open, and disclosed 
 
 A little golden ring,
 
 2\% THISTLEDOWN AND HIGHLAND HEATHER. 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 Tied with a silken cord that lay 
 On a scroll of parchment white, 
 
 On which was writ in runic rhymes, 
 In characters of light, — 
 
 XXV. 
 
 " True love is better than all the gems 
 That sJiine on a royal crown^ 
 
 And richer in more true delight 
 Than wealth can scatter down ! 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 " Take thou the symbol ! If thou find 
 A hand on which ^twill dwell, 
 
 IVith heart to ratify the pledge 
 And truth to bind it well, 
 
 XXVII. * 
 
 " Thoti wilt be rich, however poor 
 
 » 
 
 Thy lot in life may be : 
 Gold is the dross — its gain is loss; 
 Love is felicity ! "
 
 LORD RONALD. 219 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 Lord Ronald's sire forbore to chide ; 
 
 And ere the day was gone 
 The low-born Ellen of Invernell 
 
 Received his benison : 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 And on her wedding day she shone 
 
 Like sunbeam through a cloud, 
 And gathered homage like a queen 
 
 From all the wondering crowd. 
 
 XXX. 
 
 Her step was light, her smile was bright, 
 
 And from her lustrous eyes 
 Love linked with goodness sparkled forth 
 
 Like morning from the skies !
 
 220 THISTLEDOWN AND HIGHLAND HEATHER. 
 
 '•GOOD NIGHT, AND JOY BE WT 
 YOU A'!" 
 
 The night has been a joyous night, 
 
 But here no longer maun we stay, 
 
 Lest morning with her tell-tale light 
 
 Should dawn to beckon "us away. 
 
 Wi' warnings fair we've banished care, 
 
 Nor listened ance to sorrow's ca', 
 
 But danced and sung baith old and young ;- 
 
 " Good night, and jo}' be wi' you a' ! " 
 
 Yet, happy as the hours hae been, 
 'Twould no be grateful to forget, 
 'Mid a' the pleasure we hae seen, 
 That time may bring us» greater yet ! 
 Our merry meeting next to be ! 
 Meanwhile may ne'er 'a grief befa' 
 And ne'er a friend know friendship's end ; 
 "Good night, and joy be wi' us a'!"
 
 PART 111. 
 
 LIFE, DEATH AND IMMORTALITY.
 
 223 
 
 TIME AND ETERNITY. 
 
 Frail Body ! cease to sue for breath, 
 Thou canst not conquer in the strife 
 
 Time was created but for Death, 
 And all Eternity for Life !
 
 224 f-IFi:, DEATH, AND IMMORTALITY. 
 
 TWO STUDIES OF DEATH. 
 
 In the Dark Shadow. 
 
 There hangs a shadow on the face of day, 
 Dark, chill, and faintly luminous with haze, 
 That robes the earth in one lugubrious pall ; 
 It hushes cheerfulness, and chokes the voice 
 Of hope and comfort, latent in men's hearts ; 
 It hath no shape defined or palpable : 
 But o'er the soulless body of the dead 
 Seems to proclaim, in mystic syllables. 
 The final victory of the greedy grave. 
 
 " Wear doleful black ! The spirit hath departed. 
 
 Weep and lament in soul-subduing gloom ; 
 And slowly, wearily, and heavy-hearted, 
 
 Consign our brother to the sheltering tomb. 
 No more, no more his pleasant smile shall cheer us, 
 
 No more his liberal hand shed largess free; 
 No more his welcome step, approaching near us, 
 
 Shall tell of friendly intercourse to be;
 
 TWO STUDIES OF DEATH. 225 
 
 No more his words shall bless the little children 
 
 That sport and prattle round the cheerful hearth ; 
 No more his honest laugh shall ring responsive, 
 
 To fan the lambent flame of innocent mirth ; 
 No more his voice shall utter words of gladness, 
 
 To guide the lost and comfort the forlorn. 
 Music is hushed in all-pervading sadness, 
 
 Eclipsed for ever is the light of morn ; 
 The earth hath claimed him, and the earthworms riot 
 
 Over his senseless clay : the spark hath fled. 
 Peace to his ashes ! Let him sleep in quiet 
 
 Till the last trump shall sound to wake the dead." 
 
 In the Bright Sunshine. 
 
 Beside the bier there stands a radiant angel. 
 Invisible to unbelieving eyes. 
 But palpable to hope and faith and love. 
 Clad in white garments, lustrous and resplendent, 
 She turns her tender eyes in holy rapture 
 To the clear sky, and points her guiding finger 
 To the bright sunshine, bathing earth with glory, 
 And seems to chant, in tones of adoration. 
 That pulse-like ripple on a sea of silence 
 In harmonies ecstatic heard in heaven, 
 Her song of triumph o'er the conquered grave. 
 
 15
 
 226 LIFE, DEATH, AND IMMORTALITY. 
 
 " Robe not your limbs in melancholy blackness, 
 
 Nor weep disconsolate. Be bright of cheer ; 
 Think of our brother in the eternal mansions, 
 
 Where sorrow enters not, nor doubt, nor fear; 
 Where the undying spirit dwells with God, 
 
 Partaker of His essence, heir sublime 
 Of all the secrets of the universe. 
 
 Blurred and forgotten in the mists of time ; 
 Where death is dead, and life, in perfect fulness. 
 
 Climbs up the eternal stair of endless good, 
 That leads to better ever, evermore. 
 
 In God's unspeakable Infinitude ; 
 Obstruction knows him not, space doth not bind him ; 
 
 Limit hath no existence ; time in vain 
 Rolls in its earthly circles to oppress him ; 
 
 He knows it not, he feels it not again. 
 He hath inherited the endless Now, 
 
 In which the stars are but as grains of dust, 
 Sprinkled upon the illimitable shore 
 
 Of the To BE, the Is, the Was, the Must, 
 That fill the universe with life and love, — 
 
 Life that is knowledge, love that is delight. 
 These are his heritage . beyond the tomb, 
 
 These are his glories in the Infinite ! "
 
 227 
 
 NOTHING MORE? 
 
 To eat, drink, sleep, and propagate and die- 
 Such is the invariable round 
 
 Of tasks that must be done beneath the sky 
 By all who cumber the prolific ground. 
 
 But is life worth the penalties it lays 
 Upon the helpless children of mankind, 
 
 If there be no Hereafter to their days. 
 Or happy Immortality for mind ? 
 
 If human fate were nothing more than this, 
 
 Death were delight, and nothingness were bliss !
 
 228 LIFE, DEATH, AND IMMORTALITY. 
 
 THE RIVER AND THE SEA. 
 
 I. 
 Fair river of Life ! I have sailed thee, 
 
 Borne onward by favouring gales, 
 And landed betimes in the meadows, 
 
 Or roamed through the beautiful vales. 
 I chose a fair bride in her splendour. 
 
 And friends who were joyous and free. 
 And we sang and we danced and made merry. 
 
 And never once thought of the sea. 
 But now we have come to its margin, 
 
 We pause to reflect while we may. 
 Of the present, the past, and the future, 
 
 And the night that comes after the day. 
 
 II. 
 Dark ocean of Death ! I must cross thee, 
 
 And travel to regions unknown. 
 Where I trust that my God will receive me 
 
 In the light that encircles His throne;
 
 THE RIVER AND THE SEA. 229 
 
 To give my nude spirit expansion 
 
 To soar, and eternally soar, 
 'Mid splendours of heights empyrean 
 
 And the infinite Evermore ! 
 Dark Ocean ! there's brightness beyond thee, 
 
 My soul can behold it afar. 
 And 'twill pass o'er thy cloud-covered waters 
 
 With God for its compass and star !
 
 230 LIFE, DEATH, AND IMMORTALITY. 
 
 LIVING AND DYING. 
 
 We only live that we may die, 
 If Fate this problem give ; 
 
 May not its nobler answer be, 
 We die that we may live ?
 
 2^1 
 
 THE LITTLE CHINK. 
 
 I. 
 
 A CHINK upon the dungeon wall 
 
 Lets in the light of day, 
 Where ministering angels float unseen 
 
 And sparkle in the ray. 
 The prisoner when the night is clear 
 
 Forgets his bolts and bars, 
 And gazes through the friendly rift 
 
 At moonlight and the stars. 
 His soul Ynounts to them, though his flesh 
 
 Pines in a living tomb ; 
 And heaven's bright orbs hold high discourse 
 
 To cheer him in the gloom. 
 
 II. 
 Poor prisoner ! type of all condemned 
 
 To tread life's weary round. 
 And feel the pressure of the chain 
 
 That binds us to the ground.
 
 232 LIFE, DEATH, AND IMMORTALITY. 
 
 We groan behind our prison bars, 
 
 But through a narrow chink 
 Have ghmpses of the Hght of God 
 
 More glorious than we think. 
 The rift of Reason is but small, 
 
 But through the rift we see 
 The light Divine — the hope and faith 
 
 Of Immortality.
 
 233 
 
 CAN THIS BE ALL? 
 
 I. 
 To come into the world 
 Without our own consent, 
 And Hve our destined years 
 In ceaseless discontent ; 
 To struggle in the gloom 
 Behind hfe's dungeon wall, 
 And pine in vain for light, — 
 Can this be all? 
 
 II. 
 To drag a weary chain 
 Over a rugged road, 
 And groan at each remove 
 And shifting of the load ; 
 To feel the animal curse 
 That weighs on great and small 
 Of slavery to the flesh, — 
 Can this be all?
 
 234 LIFE, DEATH, AND IMMORTALITY 
 
 III. 
 To pace the same dull round 
 On each recurring day, 
 For seventy years or more, 
 Till strength and hope decay ; 
 To trust and be deceived, 
 And standing, fear to fall 
 And find no resting-place, — 
 Can this he all? 
 
 IV. 
 
 To strive to find the truth, 
 But fail for want of light, 
 To pierce the heavy gloom 
 That shrouds it from our sight ; 
 To dash our aching heads 
 Against the obstructing wall 
 That Reason cannot pass, — 
 Can this be all? 
 
 V. 
 
 To know not whence we come 
 Or whither we shall go 
 When this poor life has pass'd, 
 With all its weight of woe,
 
 CAN THIS BE ALL? 235 
 
 And doubt if life be life 
 When loss and grief befall, 
 Or whether we but dream, — 
 Can tJiis be oil? 
 
 VI. 
 
 To live as lives the grass 
 And the autumnal grain, 
 Born of the sun and sod 
 And fertilising rain, 
 And pass away like them 
 At scythe and sickle's call. 
 And leave no trace behind, — 
 Can this be all? 
 
 -. ft 
 
 VII. 
 
 And if we propagate 
 By .Love's supreme decree 
 Poor wretches like ourselves 
 Predoomed to misery. 
 To run the selfsame course 
 In doubt and fear and thrall 
 From the cradle to the tomb,- 
 Can this be all?
 
 236 LIFE, DEATH, AND IMMORTALITY. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 And if by sorrow nursed 
 We sit alone and weep 
 Beside the grass-grown mound 
 Where our belov'd ones sleep, 
 And envy them their rest 
 Beneath the grave's cold pall, 
 Our desolate hearts inquire, — 
 Can this be all ? 
 
 IX. " 
 
 Ah, no ! Fate has not launched 
 
 So cruel a decree. 
 
 Or whatsoe'er we are, 
 
 Twere better not to be ; — 
 
 Eternity is ours. 
 
 And man that seems so small 
 
 Shall live again in heaven 
 
 With God his All in all !
 
 237 
 
 DIVINE ANANKE. 
 
 Great mother of the teeming universe, 
 
 Supporter of the fabric of the skies, 
 
 Guider of stars and planets in their course, 
 
 Parent of men and nations, beasts and birds, 
 
 And all that crawl and creep and float and fly, 
 
 Ananke, author of all life and death. 
 
 Why should we strive to undermine thy wall, 
 
 Or climb above it in a vain attempt 
 
 To solve the awful mysteries of heaven, 
 
 Or lift the smallest corner of the veil 
 
 That shrouds from finite sense the Infinite? 
 
 Why wreck the petty skiff we call our mind 
 
 Against the impassable rocks that bar the way 
 
 We'd fairly travel to the Dark Beyond, 
 
 That after Death we may perchance behold 
 
 And find rcvealment of the hidden things 
 
 Of matter and of spirit, space and time,
 
 238 LIFE, DEATH, AND IMMORTALITY. 
 
 And good and evil, portions of our self? 
 Let us be humble in imprisonment, 
 And patient in our hopeless ignorance : 
 God is necessity. Necessity is God.
 
 239 
 
 IN THE ELMER WOODS. 
 
 The great high-spreading elmer tree 
 'That waves to the winds its branches free 
 Must fall beneath the woodman's blows 
 Ere the time of the winter snows. 
 Such is the woodman's high decree, 
 Fate's minister for him who owns 
 Land and forest, grass and stones. 
 And all the woodland spreading wide, 
 And corn and pastureland beside. 
 
 If such the doom of the lordly tree. 
 That stands so firm, so fair, so free, 
 May not the Fates reserve for me. 
 At woodman Death's appointed time, 
 A downfall in my manhood's prime ? 
 And in the elm tree's girth and bole 
 May there not lurk in Time's control 
 The boards and planks that workmen true 
 Shall saw and fashion, nail and screw.
 
 240 LIFE, DEATH, AND IMMORTALITY. 
 
 Till they construct a coffin fine 
 
 To hide this perishing flesh of mine ? 
 
 Perhaps ! But till the hour arrives 
 
 I and the tree can live our lives : 
 
 Its boughs can wave in the summer air, 
 
 And birds build nests in its branches fair : 
 
 The rains refresh it at morns and eves, 
 
 And the moonlight slumber on its leaves ; 
 
 And I, content with the passing day, 
 
 May find enjoyment while I may, 
 
 And laugh with care-unfettered mind. 
 
 Living and loving and resigned, 
 
 And drink, instead of the dews and rain, 
 
 My " Marcobriinner " and champagne. 
 
 And interchange with men and books 
 
 Thoughts and fancies and friendly looks. 
 
 The tree knows nothing of its fate. 
 
 Nor I of mine, and so I wait 
 
 In fearless trust, whate'er befall. 
 
 That a good God reigns* over all.
 
 241 
 
 THE GOOD OF IT. 
 
 What is the good of being born 
 
 Into this world of hate and scorn, 
 
 Naked and feeble and forlorn ? 
 
 What is the good, though childhood's years 
 
 May have their smiles as well as tears. 
 
 Though youth, which recks not of the morrow. 
 
 Partakes of joy as well as sorrow ? 
 
 What is the good, though love is bright 
 
 And robes the world with rosy light 
 
 In the first downing of its day, 
 
 If evening sees it fade away ? 
 
 And when, the longer that we crawl 
 
 On earth's, too miserable ball, 
 
 The more we feel that life is vain. 
 
 And that man's heritage is pain ! 
 
 What is the good of lengthened life, 
 
 If purchased by perennial strife. 
 
 When sordid wants and grinding cares 
 
 Surge up for ever unawares, 
 
 i6
 
 242 LIFE, DEATH, AND IMMORTALITY. 
 
 And fond illusions, one by one, 
 Exhale, like dewdrops in the sun, — 
 What is the good ? 
 
 Perchance our birth 
 Is but probation on the earth. 
 And that as soon as life begins 
 We have to suffer for the sins 
 Committed in another sphere. 
 All to be expiated here ? 
 Support us. Faith — if we'd rebel ! 
 This is the answer : Earth is hell, 
 Or purgatory, to refine 
 By pangs of punishment divine, 
 And fit the immortal soul to soar 
 Towards perfection evermore. 
 And flourish in celestial light. 
 Partakers of the Infinite !
 
 H3 
 
 LIFE'S LITTLE DAY. 
 
 I. 
 
 The Dawn. 
 
 An innocent infant, with blue, earnest eyes, 
 Paddling upon the shore with glad surprise 
 At each new object that attracts its sight — 
 Shells on the beach, or sea-mews gleaming white, 
 Or the dark billows glittering far away 
 In the first radiance of the coming day. 
 
 II. 
 
 Early Morning. 
 
 The sun is up, and bathes the eastern sky 
 With floods of light ; the tide is rising high. 
 And the boy's thought, with far-extending scope 
 Impatient of the present, dwells with hope 
 On the unknown but slow-approaching time 
 When he shall creep no more, but mount and climb.
 
 244 LIFE, DEATH, AND IMMORTALITY, 
 
 III. 
 
 The Forenoon. 
 
 The glowing glorious noon has not yet shed 
 Its radiance, but the moving mists have fled, 
 And the blood courses warmly through his veins, 
 And passion wakens with its joys and pains 
 And dear delights far short of his desires, 
 And physical energies and mental fires. 
 
 IV. 
 MiDNOON. 
 
 Noon ! and the widening landscape, full revealed, 
 
 Shows crags and pitfalls that the morn concealed. 
 
 Which he must pass in safety if he can, 
 
 Now that he's reached the dignity of man, 
 
 And sees the toils he's bound to undergo 
 
 If he would flourish in a world of woe ; 
 
 The perils that beset him ,on his path, 
 
 The jealousies, the treacheries, and the wrath 
 
 That he must conquer if he'd stand erect 
 
 And win a footing in the world's respect, 
 
 Like a true soldier in the ennobling fight 
 
 Against the daily wrong that wars with right.
 
 LIFE'S LITTLE DAY. 245 
 
 V. 
 
 Afternoon. 
 
 Wearied and worn, but hopeful still and bold, 
 
 With head still clear and heart not yet grown old, 
 
 He rests a little from the moil of life, 
 
 And takes a respite from perennial strife, 
 
 To look back cheerfully on duty done 
 
 And -fruitful triumphs well and bravely won. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Sunset. 
 Clad in full glory in the crimsoning west, 
 The sun's last radiance gilds the ocean's breast, 
 And the day darkens in the east afar, 
 While on Night's forehead gleams the evening star, 
 Herald of heavenly hosts as yet unseen, 
 That fill with splendours all the vast serene. 
 
 vn. 
 Night. 
 'Tis night, and not a cloud upon the blue. 
 And countless glories burst upon his view 
 In all the dread magnificence of heaven. 
 He bends with awe and feels his sins forgiven, 
 And hears the angels' voices chanting high, 
 " Mount, kindred spirit, mount into the sky ! "
 
 246 LIFE, DEATH, AND LMMORTALITY. 
 
 IMMORTALITY. 
 
 " Man never dies — but all men die," 
 
 Is this the immortality 
 
 We fondly crave ? When we are gone 
 
 Are we as heedless as a stone 
 
 Of all that was or is to be ? 
 
 Alas, for thee ! Alas, for me ! 
 
 The blooming rose, the mounting flame, 
 
 Might, could they think, repeat the same 
 
 Sad query to the passer-by. 
 
 And ask if they but live to die ; 
 
 And if the life that moves them now 
 
 Is all the cruel fates allow. 
 
 Woe's me ! like gudgeons in a glass. 
 
 We turn and twist, but cannot pass, — 
 
 In vain we'd work the problem out. 
 
 Our senses fail us, and we doubt ; 
 
 And when to doubt is but to grieve, 
 
 Is it not better to believe ?
 
 247 
 
 EUTHANASIA. 
 
 The king of terrors, such as cowards feign 
 In the wild nightmare of the heart and brain, 
 Is to the wise the Lord of hfe and Hght, 
 And hath no terrors to their thought or sight. 
 No vengeful arrows bristle in his hands 
 To scatter sorrow o'er the peaceful lands ; 
 But love angelic from his brooding wings 
 Drops on the earth and all created things ; 
 And his calm eyes, with pure celestial sheen, 
 Glow through the universe with light serene. 
 
 The foolish crowc^, unchristian-like, behold 
 
 In the dark grave nought but the encircling mould 
 
 That wraps the body, when the soul elate 
 
 Takes joyous wing to the celestial gate. 
 
 At which Death stands to welcome mortals in, 
 
 Freed from corruption, purified from sin. 
 
 Death is but change of vesture for the soul — 
 
 New scope, new strength, and life beyond control 
 
 Of time and space and earth's impeding clod, 
 
 With bhss eternal in the love of God !
 
 248 LIFE, DEATH, AND IMMORTALITY. 
 
 A MOTH AND A MAN. 
 
 Questions. 
 
 Moth, that art fluttering, flying 
 
 Up in the sunny air, 
 What dost thou know of the wonders 
 
 That earth and sky> declare ? 
 Nothing ! oh, nothing ! nothing, 
 
 Except that the world is fair ! 
 
 Man, that art creeping, crawling 
 
 Painfully on the earth, 
 What dost thou know of the riddle 
 
 Of life and death and birth. 
 Of the purpose of existence, 
 
 And what thy soul is worth ? 
 
 The Man's Reply. 
 
 The moth and myself know nothing ; 
 We're both the slaves of sense.
 
 A MOTH AND A MAN. 249 
 
 And only see in a circle 
 
 Through a medium dark and dense, 
 And flourish for short season, 
 
 Ohly to travel hence. 
 
 The insect knows no sorrows, 
 
 And, happier far than I, 
 Takes life without inquiry, 
 
 Under the clear blue sky. 
 1 know that I am mortal — 
 
 Born but to suffer and die !
 
 250 LIFE, DEATH, AND IMMORTALITY. 
 
 IN PROSPECT OF DEATH. 
 
 Dear Mother Death ! on thy placid face 
 
 1 look like a loving child, 
 And know thou wilt purify my soul 
 
 From all that hath defiled. 
 I've no regret at leaving a world 
 
 So weary and full of woe ; 
 Then take me, Death, whenever thou wilt, 
 
 Thou'lt find me ready to go. 
 
 I feel the healthful breeze of life 
 
 That flows through the open door, 
 Through which my spirit prepares to pass 
 
 And to mount for evermore 
 Up to the highest heights of heaven, 
 
 Freed of the bodily clod, 
 To learn and learn for ever and aye 
 
 The mysteries of God.
 
 IN PROSPECT OF DEATH. 251 
 
 Farewell ! farewell ! O dungeon clay ! 
 
 Farewell ! O struggling breath ! 
 And welcome to the gentle touch 
 
 Of liberating Death ! 
 Float me and waft me and carry me up, 
 
 Defiant of time and space, 
 To the throne of my Father and my God 
 
 And the radiance of His face !
 
 252 LIFE, DEATH, AND IMMORTALITY. 
 
 INCOMPREHENSIBLE FINITUDE. 
 
 Man's senses fail to comprehend 
 
 How anything that is can end : 
 
 That all things change we see and know, 
 
 Life into death, joy into woe ; 
 
 But something into nothingness 
 
 Transcends the reason to express : 
 
 'Tis felt and seen — not understood, 
 
 There is no law of finitude. 
 
 If this be true for worlds that roll, 
 
 Is it not true for life and soul ? 
 
 For life and love in endless range. 
 
 Undying death — eternal change ?
 
 '-S3 
 
 TWO MIGHTY SISTERS. 
 
 Two sisters, angels, twins in love and might, 
 
 Viceregents of the Lord of life and light, 
 
 And agents of His everlasting will, 
 
 Pervade the universe, and fill 
 
 The stars and galaxies that roll 
 
 Through infinite space, the body of God's soul ; 
 
 The one serene and pale, with pensive face, 
 
 Seems sad at heart, though sadness has no place 
 
 In her celestial mind, for love divine 
 
 Governs her thought, and with celestial shine 
 
 From her angelic and benignant eyes 
 
 Sheds heavenly pity through the awful skies. 
 
 The other, beautiful as she, 
 
 Radiant as sunlight or a peaceful sea. 
 
 Scatters perpetual morning through the stars, 
 
 And guides them God-ward in their heavenly cars, 
 
 While from her wings outspread and eyes all-seeing 
 
 She drops perpetual bliss of being ; 
 
 Her looks illumine heaven and earth. 
 
 Balancing loss by gain, and death by birth.
 
 254 LIFE, DEATH, AND IMMORTALIT\. 
 
 Her earnest sister, passing o'er the lands, 
 
 Holds in the hollow of her hands 
 
 The mightiest empires, flushed with pride of power, 
 
 And in the fulness of the destined hour 
 
 Strips them of glory and of fame. 
 
 And puffs them out like the ephemeral flame 
 
 That dies for lack of fuel, and is flung 
 
 Back to the nothingness from which it sprung. 
 
 Without a record on the page of time, 
 
 Shade of a shade — faint echo of a chime 
 
 That rang a moment and was hushed for ever, 
 
 And stifled in its own endeavour 
 
 To make itself be heard above the din 
 
 Of jarring discords in a world of sin. 
 
 Her bright-eyed sister, smiling at her side, 
 
 Welcomes new nations to supply their place 
 In equal majesty to those that died, 
 
 To run like them their short appointed race. 
 Life follows Death, and Death is mother of Life — 
 Light comes of darkness — peace is born of strife — 
 And renovation tracks destruction's path 
 To heal the ravage of its seeming wrath, 
 And fill the gaps that destiny has riven 
 In the eternal scroll and luminous book of heaven.
 
 TWO MIGHTY S/STEJiS. 255 
 
 Poor little mortals ! know that Death's your 
 
 friend, 
 And builds again in innocence and joy 
 What she was powerless to destroy, 
 And in a chain that stretches without end 
 Links star to star, and sun to sun, 
 In everlasting unison, 
 'And gives the children of a perishing earth 
 Angelic wings in new eternal birth, 
 To soar and soar— for ever, evermore 
 Up to the heaven of heavens, and starry floor — 
 To Love, to Know, to Worship— and Adore !
 
 256 LIFE^ DEATH, AND IMMORTALITY. 
 
 BONDAGE. 
 
 In youth my body was my joy, 
 A bank from which I loved to borrow ; 
 
 In age it works me sore annoy, 
 And pays its debts in care and sorrow. 
 
 In youth I pkicked the wayside rose 
 Of sensual pleasure, blooming o'er me ; 
 
 In age the bloom no longer blows. 
 And thorns and brambles sprout before me. 
 
 O body ! thou'rt a treacherous friend, 
 And lendest help but to deceive us, 
 
 Until, our bondage at an end, 
 Death bids the pitying grave receive us.
 
 257 
 
 AN INVOCATION AND AN ASPIRATION. 
 
 I. 
 
 Come to me, Death : I fear thee not ; 
 Thou'rt nothing but a change I wot. 
 If for the worst, 'tis God's behest ; 
 If for the better, it is best. 
 I'm but a fancy in a dream, 
 I'm but a straw upon the stream, 
 I'm but a ripple on the sea. 
 An atom in Immensity. 
 
 II. 
 
 Yet no ; I have diviner trust, 
 I am no speck, no grain of dust, 
 But child of God, and heir sublime 
 Of life beyond the reach of time — 
 Life unconfined by earthly bars, 
 And as eternal as the stars. 
 That live and love as well as I, 
 My fellow-creatures of the sky. 
 
 17
 
 258 LIFE, DEATH, AND IMMORTALITY. 
 
 LITTLE GREATNESS. 
 
 We despise the passing hour 
 
 Because it seems so small 
 And so much less than the world 
 
 On which we creep and crawl. 
 But is the little so little, 
 
 On earth's very little ball ? 
 Or is anything great or little ? — 
 
 God knows, who is All in all.
 
 259 
 
 u 
 
 A GRAVE. 
 
 Put me in, and cover me up 
 
 With wholesome earth, — no more I crave 
 A tombstone is but waste of wealth, 
 
 And fails to sanctify the grave. 
 Countless millions of men and women 
 
 As good as I, or better maybe, 
 Rot in the earth without memorial : 
 
 Why should you place one over me ? 
 'Twould last perhaps for fifty years. 
 
 If no one cared for the perishing stone. 
 Or carved no foolish lies upon it, 
 
 To make survivors blush or groan ; 
 Plant pale- primroses if you will, 
 
 Or gem-like daisies 'mid the grass, 
 They'll lend a beauty to the ground. 
 
 Or preach a sermon as you pass.
 
 26o LIFE, DEATH, AND IMMORTALITY. 
 
 BODY AND SOUL. 
 
 I. 
 
 I WOULD not that my mind should die 
 
 Before the mortal flame, 
 And perish into nothingness, 
 
 Like an extinguished flame. 
 While body with ignoble needs, 
 
 And slavery to the clay. 
 Lived on, unconscious of its loss 
 
 And hastening to decay. 
 
 II. 
 
 Thus did I sigh, and quite forgot, 
 
 With care-o'erclouded brow. 
 That ever with the immortal soul 
 
 Dwells an eternal Now. 
 That all our faculties of sense. 
 
 Though seeming great, are small. 
 And but the windows of the mind, 
 
 And openings in the wall ;
 
 BODY AND SOUL. 261 
 
 III. 
 
 That when the imprisoned spirit looks 
 
 Beyond its dungeon bars, 
 It longs to reach its heavenly home, 
 
 And travel through the stars, 
 Freed from the burden of the flesh 
 
 That clogs its upward flight, 
 And darkens to its wistful gaze 
 
 The wonders of the light. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Mute, blind, and fettered though it be. 
 
 It is but for a time ; 
 When rescued from its penal chain. 
 
 And in immortal prime, 
 It shall enjoy the glorious Now, 
 
 In nobler spheres than this. 
 With myriad senses, every one 
 
 A doorway into bliss.
 
 262 LIFE, DEATH, AND IMMORTALITY. 
 
 LIFE. 
 
 Seventy journeys round the sun, 
 
 Cares and sorrows, great and small ; 
 Toils and troubles, sighs and tears : 
 That is all — that is all. 
 
 Love that blooms in summer hours 
 
 And decays ere winter's fall, 
 Morning freshness, lost ere night : 
 That is all — that is all. 
 
 Fame that whispers in our ears, 
 
 Joy to come at merit's call, 
 
 Borne upon the breath of fools : 
 
 That is all — that is all. 
 » 
 
 Wealth, that may be sought and won. 
 
 If we'd climb or if we'd crawl, 
 And but worthless when possess'd : 
 That is all — that is all.
 
 LIFE. 263 
 
 Mound of earth, six feet by two, 
 
 Shut from every pain and thrall, 
 Birth-right, death-right, both in one : 
 That is all— that is all !
 
 264 LIFE, DEATH, AND IMMORTALITY. 
 
 AM RITA. 
 
 Soar, my freed spirit, sin-lbrgiven, 
 
 Soar to thy long-lost home in heaven ! 
 
 Soar to the light of perfect day, 
 
 A living portion of its ray. 
 
 Loosed from the impeding clogs of earth 
 
 And all the shackles of thy birth, 
 
 Thou'lt find there's work that must be done 
 
 Beyond the pathways of the sun, 
 
 And that eternity may be 
 
 Too narrow for thine energy. 
 
 If thou wouldst truly seek to know 
 
 All that the universe can show 
 
 Of love and hope and high endeavour, 
 
 Working for ever and for ever. 
 
 Rest is but death in part or whole, 
 
 And is not spoken of the soul ! 
 
 Life, life eternal, thou art mine ! 
 Life, Love, and Knowledge, gifts divine.
 
 AMRITA. 2G5 
 
 That clear the way to worlds unknown, 
 
 That guard the footstool of God's throne, 
 
 Life, linked to body, frail no more, 
 
 Or slave to sorrow as before, 
 
 A prey to suffering and to need, 
 
 Ignoble in its daily thought and deed ; 
 
 But pregnant with celestial fire. 
 
 To glow, to sparkle and aspire, 
 
 To flourish in eternal bloom. 
 
 Defiant of the engulfing tomb. 
 
 With senses not confined to five 
 
 Poor outlets for the narrow hive 
 
 In which our faculties are held 
 
 By bondage of the flesh compelled. 
 
 But streaming through a thousand pores. 
 
 That open Jike enchanted doors. 
 
 Disclosing each a new delight. 
 
 Beyond the pleasures of the sight. 
 
 Beyond the raptures of the ears. 
 
 Pealing music of the spheres. 
 
 Till heaven itself, in sense enshrined, 
 
 Possesses all the immortal mind. 
 
 And breathes the tidings great and free 
 
 Of progress in eternity.
 
 266 LIFE, DEATH, AND IMMORTALITY. 
 
 THE LOST ME. 
 
 I. 
 
 Whither has fled the undying Me, 
 
 The "Me" that I knew in a bygone day; 
 My other self in the times of old, 
 
 When life was in its morn of May, 
 Ere it had ripened to leafy June, 
 
 With its warmer, wider, and lustier scope, 
 Nor lavished the wealth of its summer bloom 
 
 For due fulfilment of my hope ? 
 
 II. 
 "Me" and I could climb the mountains 
 
 Up to their very topmost crest. 
 Or cleave the billows with vigorous sinews. 
 
 And calm, unruffled, defiant breast. 
 Me and I could face the tempest, 
 
 Braving its perils undismayed. 
 And revel in the pride of youth 
 
 As courage or indifference bade.
 
 THE LOST ME. 267 
 
 III. 
 
 Where has he gone ? to which dim part ? 
 
 Has he utterly vanished beyond recall, 
 The happy Me, that hated to doubt. 
 
 And found belief and good in all ? 
 When heart and brain and body and soul, 
 
 Flushed and stored with electric fire. 
 And nothing seemed too great or high 
 
 For mad ambition to desire. 
 
 IV. 
 
 When every man was honest and brave. 
 
 And every woman was fair and true, 
 And love was robed in heavenly light 
 
 For ever beautiful and new, — 
 When Fancy -rode the steeds of Reason, 
 
 Goading and spurring them, free and wild. 
 And every cloud had a golden border. 
 
 And every storm a rainbow child. 
 
 V. 
 
 Alas! another "Me" has entered 
 
 Into my spirit and my brain. 
 Unlike the Me that once I cherished 
 
 But was not destined to retain.
 
 268 LIFE, DEATH, AND IMMORTALITY. 
 
 The wretched Me that has taken his place 
 Is old and sad and feeble of limb ; 
 
 His good right hand has lost its cunning, 
 His voice is weak, his eyes are dim. 
 
 VI. 
 
 He roams no more the tangled wild-wood, 
 
 He scales no more the mountain height, 
 But sits in his easy chair reflecting 
 
 That after noontime comes the night; 
 His fond illusions are dead and buried 
 
 In the grave of the bygone years, 
 Dug by the spade of disappointment 
 
 Too oft in agony and tears. 
 
 VII. 
 
 "Me, oh Me! why hast thou left me?" 
 
 Strong is its faith — the soul replies : 
 " Thy earthly vesture fits no longer. 
 
 New garments wait thee in the skies ; 
 Crippled by time, thou'rt bound to travel 
 
 The beaten path that all have trod — 
 Thou'lt find eternity before thee, 
 
 And love and light at the throne of God ! "
 
 269 
 
 THE DAY'S MARCH. 
 
 I. 
 
 Marching ! marching ! marching ! 
 
 On to the city of Death, 
 Nearer and ever nearer 
 
 In every step and breath ; 
 Bound to enter its portals, 
 
 To rest when the day is done — 
 Marching with the moments 
 
 And following as they run ! 
 
 II. 
 
 Pleasant it was, and sunny, 
 
 When I started on the way 
 To tread the leafy woodlands 
 
 And the fresh green meads of May 
 To hear the skylark singing 
 
 On the fringes of the morn. 
 And gather wayside blossoms 
 
 Or wreaths of the white hawthorn.
 
 270 LIFE, DEATH, AND IMMORTALITY, 
 
 III. 
 To sport with the Uttle maidens, 
 
 Or sit beneath the tree, 
 . When the drill of the books was over 
 
 And the limbs and the mind were free ; 
 To laugh and prattle and frolic, 
 
 Or build up fairy schemes 
 In the palaces of Cloudland, 
 And people them with dreams. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Till one as fair as daylight 
 
 Enthralled my willing heart, 
 And we marched together onward 
 
 And vowed we'd never part ; 
 Vowed the vow and kept it, 
 
 And felt in the pride of youth 
 That life was a brave possession 
 
 When cheered by love and truth, 
 
 V. 
 
 I carolled in the morning 
 
 To many a joyous tune, 
 I planned the good of my fellows 
 
 In the flush of the sunny noon,
 
 THE DAY'S MARCH. 271 
 
 And held fast hold in the twilight 
 
 To the faith of early prime, 
 That the good might grow to the better 
 
 In the fulness of the time. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Marching, ever marching 
 
 Amid confronting foes, 
 I trampled down obstructions 
 
 Defiant as they rose ; 
 Or wounded in the conflict, 
 
 I gathered strength anew. 
 And dared the hardest fortune 
 
 To daunt me or subdue ! 
 
 VII, 
 
 Pleasant it was to linger 
 
 Under the blessed skies, 
 To walk with the noble-hearted, 
 
 The brave, the good, the wise ; 
 To hold high converse with them, 
 
 And learn the truths they taught 
 And gather wit and wisdom 
 
 From the interchange of thought.
 
 2/2 LIFE, DEATH, AND IMMORTALITY. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 And now, as the night approaches, 
 
 Mine eyes behold, afar, 
 The crimsoning gold of the sunset 
 
 And the gleam of the evening star ; 
 And beyond, in the shadowy distance. 
 
 Dim seen on the misty height, 
 The domes of Death's dark city 
 
 O'er-canopied with light, — 
 
 IX. . 
 
 The light, the love, the glory, 
 
 Into which my soul shall soar ; 
 Darkness and death behind me. 
 
 Eternity before : 
 Leaving my earthly vesture 
 
 In the earthly mother sod, 
 To wear angelic garments 
 
 In the mansions of my God. 
 
 I
 
 273 
 
 THE JOYS OF SEVENTY. 
 
 If 
 
 I. 
 
 I'm old and ready to depart, 
 
 I've passed the threescore years and ten, 
 But still keep corners in my heart 
 
 For honest women and brave men ; 
 I love to see on beauty's cheek 
 
 The bloom that pleases younger eyes, 
 And find enjoyment when I seek 
 
 Among the witty and the wise. 
 
 II. 
 
 My pulses throb when coming years 
 
 Presage the triumph of the right, 
 Mine eyes suffuse with wholesome tears, 
 
 Or glow with sympathetic light, 
 When great unselfish deeds are done 
 
 That rival in our sordid age 
 The noblest victories ever won 
 
 Attested upon history's page. 
 
 i8
 
 274 LIFE, DEATH, AND IMMORTALITY. 
 
 III. 
 
 I love the modest wayside flowers, 
 
 The dawn, the moon, the evening grey ; 
 The pleasant sunshine and the showers. 
 
 The gloom of night, the blaze of day ; 
 I love the garden and the wild. 
 
 The woodland and the barren shore, 
 • The artless prattle of a child, 
 
 Or memories of the days of yore. 
 
 IV. 
 
 I love a lover, prize a friend, 
 
 And joy in every joy that's pure. 
 And, knowing grief must have an end. 
 
 Make light of ills I cannot cure : 
 I love my fellows all I can, 
 
 Hate Hate, scorn Scorn, and loathe a lie. 
 And, part of God's eternal plan, 
 
 I'm pleased to live, content to die.
 
 275 
 
 NIRVANA. 
 
 Goddess benign ! 
 
 Great Mother divine, 
 Lay me to sleep on thy beautiful breast ; 
 
 Weary of life 
 
 And renewal of strife, 
 I ask but oblivion — I pray but for rest ! 
 Sink me to nothingness ! robe me in death ; 
 Lull me and soothe me and stifle my breath, 
 Deaden mine ears to the cry of the crowd, 
 
 Its doubts and contentions, 
 
 Its feuds and dissensions. 
 The groans of the humble, the shouts of the proud. 
 What have I done in the ages departed, 
 That I should remain to float hopelessly on — 
 A waif on the ocean, a mote in the sunshine, 
 A sound that is silenced, a light that has shone ? 
 
 Life hath no charms for me, 
 Death no alarms for me ;
 
 2/6 LIFE, DEATH, AND IMMORTALITY. 
 
 Peace may be broken, and rest have an end ! 
 Come then, ObHvion, my hope and my friend ; 
 
 Come and possess me, 
 
 Absorb me and bless me ; 
 
 Beautiful nothingness, 
 
 Heightless and fathomless. 
 Life's final glory and crown of completion, 
 Refuge eternal from sorrow and pain ; 
 Love is but lust to replenish the planet 
 With slaves and oppressors that cumber the soil ; 
 Fame's but a blast on a wearisome trumpet. 
 And wealth is but mockery, burden and toil. 
 Holy Nirvana ! Heaven's true fulfilment ! 
 Essence of all things ! Destroyer of time ! 
 Victor of destiny ! Mother of ages ! 
 Born unbegotten, eternal, sublime ! 
 Grant me, oh, grant me the boon that I crave : 
 Dreamless beatitude— peace in the grave !
 
 277 
 
 LA BELLE MORTE. 
 
 I. 
 Oh, Death ! you are my comrade, 
 
 My comrade and my friend ; 
 Come, sit beside me on the bed 
 
 Cheerily to the end, 
 I'm not the least afraid of you, 
 
 And shrink not from your toucli, 
 And feel in presence of your smile 
 
 That you can teach me much. 
 
 II. 
 You are not hideous to my sight. 
 
 Your voice is like a hymn ; 
 Your eyes are filled with heavenly light 
 
 Like those of seraphim. 
 You bear no javelin in your hand 
 
 To pierce me to the heart, 
 But whisper words of peace and love 
 
 That warn me to depart.
 
 2/8 LIFE, DEATH, AND IMMORTALITY. 
 
 III. 
 You tell me things I never knew, 
 
 Or cared to understand ; 
 And show me things I never saw, 
 
 Till guided by your hand : 
 The worthlessness of human life, 
 
 That men most fondly prize, 
 Compared with the immortal hopes 
 
 That blossom in the skies. 
 
 IV. 
 
 . Bright hopes that fill the expectant mind 
 When we discourse together, 
 
 And I behold through wintry storms 
 The heavenly summer weather. 
 
 You preach to me and prophesy, 
 That when the rags I wear 
 
 Fall from my soul and leave it nude 
 
 In sunshine and the air, 
 
 » 
 
 V. 
 
 I shall assume angelic robes, 
 
 Unweighted by the clod, 
 And float as rapidly as thought 
 
 Through all the realms of God.
 
 LA BELLE MORTE. 279 
 
 And learn, as death unseals my eyes 
 
 From films of earthly night, 
 The secrets of the Universe 
 
 And the mysteries of the Light,
 
 28o LIFE, DEATH, AND IMMORTALITY. 
 
 THE SOUL HOVERING OVER THE BODY 
 TAKES JOYOUS LEAVE. 
 
 I. 
 Body ! that once wert a noble shrine 
 For a soul to dwell in, no more thou'rt mine. 
 Thou wert a palace in youth's bright day, 
 But the walls of the palace have crumbled away ; 
 The burdensome years and the physical chain 
 Of desire and pleasure — of grief and pain, 
 Have bought the penalty of their birth 
 And weighed thee down to thy mother earth ; 
 Thy glory 's fled with the days of yore. 
 Farewell, frail body, for evermore ! 
 
 II. 
 The robes thou gavest me to wear 
 Are torn and tattered beyond repair ; 
 New garments of celestial dyes 
 Await me in the friendly skies, 
 To which I joyfully return 
 Imperishable and eterne.
 
 THE SOUL HOVERING OVER THE BODY. 28 1 
 
 Thou held'st me by a tyrant's tether 
 When thou and I were hnked together, 
 But now I'm free to fly and soar, 
 Farewell, frail body, for evermore ! 
 
 III. 
 
 Thine eyes, that circumscribed my sight 
 And dulled the fulness of perfect light, 
 Are growing dimmer, while mine behold 
 The glory of the heavens unroll'd ; 
 Clear to my vision, extending wide, 
 Freed of obstruction, and purified 
 Of all the stain received from thee 
 In the prison of thy mortality; 
 I'm gliding through the eternal door,^ 
 Farewell, frail body, for evermore ! 
 
 IV. 
 
 Thou hadst few secrets to disclose, 
 Little secrets of joys and woes, 
 And yearnings for the imperfect joy 
 That time but gave thee to destroy.
 
 282 LIFE, DEATH, AND IMMORTALITY. 
 
 Now heaven's own secrets flood my gaze, 
 Of love and ecstasy and praise, 
 And Godlike progress and endeavour, 
 That lift me up for ever and ever ! 
 I tread already the azure floor, — 
 Farewell, frail body, for evermore !
 
 283 
 
 ON THE DEATH OF A GREAT MAN. 
 
 Bury his faults in the grave where we've laid him, 
 Speak not his name but with blessings and sighs ; 
 
 Hard is the heart that would seek to upbraid him, 
 So great as he was and so low as he lies ! 
 
 High were his aims and untarnished his honour, 
 Danger he scorned in the pathways of" right ; 
 
 England shall miss, when the cloud is upon her. 
 Him who oft led her — through darkness to light. 
 
 Weep, England, weep, for the mighty departed, 
 Write his pure name on thy worthiest page ; 
 
 Nobly he lived, though he died broken-hearted, 
 And moulded to justice the mind of his age !
 
 APPENDIX. 
 CHARLES MACKAY'S LAST POEM. 
 
 Charles Mackay, the eminent poet and journalist, died 
 in London on Christmas Eve, 1889. Up to a late hour in 
 the evening of Sunday, December 22nd, lie was engaged in 
 reading the "Life and Works of Robert Burns," his favourite 
 author, and during that day he seems to have whiled away the 
 time by the composition of the following graceful stanzas, 
 written in the Scottish manner, his love for his native 
 country and dialect being one of his strongest characteristics. 
 Finishing the poem, he dated it, in a somewhat tremulous 
 handwriting, "Dec. 22, 1889," and then went quietly to the 
 bed from which, though he knew it not, he was never again to 
 rise. He passed away peacefully on the Tuesday morning, 
 unconscious of suffering, his face in death assuming a 
 singularly impressive look of wisdom and placidity, — one 
 curious circumstance being that the right hand, which had 
 written so much and so unweariedly, folded itself, in the 
 last long sleep, into the customary position for holding 
 the pen, and so remained. The last two lines of the 
 poem here published, touchingly imply the poet's instinctive 
 spiritual sense of his approaching release from all earthly 
 labour.
 
 286 CHARLES MACKAY'S LAST POEM. 
 
 "MY WIFE'S A WINSOME WEE THING."* 
 
 My wife's a winsome wee thing, 
 
 Wed twenty years or mair, 
 And aye the bonnier growing, 
 
 As baith mine eyes declare. 
 'Tis love that made her bonnie, 
 
 And love that keeps her sae, 
 In spite o' Time and Fortune, 
 
 On Life's uncannie way. 
 
 II. 
 
 Love scares awa' the wrinkles 
 
 From aff her smooth white brow, 
 And duty done through good and ill 
 
 Aye keeps her conscience true, — 
 And yields her happy peace of mind. 
 
 If e'er the world goes wrong, 
 And turns the murmur of lament 
 
 Into a cheerful song-. 
 
 '&• 
 
 * The title alone of this poem, but neither the idea nor the 
 treatment, is borrowed from Robert Burns. — Author's Note.
 
 CHARLES MACK AY'S LAST POEM. 287 
 
 III. 
 The kisses gather on her lips 
 
 Like blossoms on the rose, 
 And kindly thoughts reflect the light 
 
 That in her bosom glows, — 
 As wavelets in a running stream 
 
 Reflect the noontide ray. 
 And sparkle with the light of heaven 
 
 When rippling on their way. 
 
 IV. 
 
 She is a winsome wee thing, 
 
 And more than twenty year 
 She's twined herself about my heart 
 
 By all that can endear ; 
 By all that can endear on earth, 
 
 Foreshadowing things above, 
 And lead my happy soul to heaven, 
 
 Rejoicing in her love ! 
 
 Dec. 22nd, 1889. 
 
 Hazell, Watson, & Viney, Ld., Printers, London and Aylesbury.
 
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