WREATH OF SONGS 
 
 BY THE 
 
 CAMBRIDGE LOTOS CLUB. 
 
 DEIGHTON, BELL AND CO. 
 LONDON : GEORGE BELL AND SONS. 
 
 1880 
 
tOAN STACK 
 
 Cambrtttfic : 
 
 PRINTED BY C. J. CLAY, M.A. 
 AT THE UNIVERSITY PRESS. 
 
CgzC2>^ 
 
 DEDICATED 
 
 TO 
 
 II f 
 
 OSCAR BROWNING, ESQ. 
 
 SENIOR FELLOW OF KING'S COLLEGE, 
 CAMBRIDGE. 
 
 248 
 
The following pages are composed entirely by a little 
 gat/iering of Undergraduates. It is hoped therefore that 
 allowa7ice will be made if they be founds according to the 
 old adage, ' non re quam spe laudanda^ 
 
 EDITOR. 
 
PRELUDE. 
 
 N dusky eve, cold was the air and still ; 
 Anon the eve-blast smote across the plains 
 And passed sad-sighing: o'er the waterfloods 
 The dying day glanced gloriously and died. 
 Then faded all the glow and flush : and swift 
 Dense-shadowing gloom o'ercrept the homes of men. 
 
 But we, together, passed to distant climes, 
 The purple mountains of eternal summer, 
 Lying afar i' the mighty realm of thought ; 
 Where o'er bright lakes pure redolent-breathing winds 
 Filtered in cooling groves came stealing by ; 
 And golden sundown dyed the sleeping waters, 
 And tinged the foaming falls with myriad dyes. 
 
6 PRELUDE. 
 
 Yet sank not into rest : above, the pines, 
 Cloud-like, on hill-top swayed and swaying slept. 
 And never breath amid the lotos beds 
 Sobbed its own requiem to the rustling reeds; 
 But living lustre o'er the emerald vales 
 Flashed in the diamond dews and never died 
 And inexpressible glory crowned the air, 
 And dreamy languor drew the inmost being 
 Into the slumbrous peace of blissful rest. 
 Then rose calm visions decked in gorgeous tints, 
 Sapphire and gold and amethystine lights : 
 Ai;id silver-sighing melodies of song, 
 And trilling of the birds and thrilling cries 
 Out of the fathomless blue, the dwelling place 
 Of wandering sprays of cloud and wings of song 
 These and the wondrous sight of trailing flights 
 Of paradisal plumage, slowly sailing 
 Athwart the restful springs of many lakes, 
 And mirrored in the immotionate calm beneath. 
 
PRELUDE. 7 
 
 While sweeter far than cloud-sung carollings 
 Bright heralds of the radiant hours of prime, 
 And lowlier than the plaintive voice of eve, 
 Out of the moss-dells of the fairy groves 
 Came soul-like utterances entrancing soft, 
 Came silver-sighing harmonies entwined 
 In varied note perfection absolute. x 
 
 ****** 
 Wherefore, arising when earth's morn returned, 
 Dazed in the maze of many-tinted glows 
 From crimson bloom and snow-crowned lily flowers 
 O'er fleet-winged waters waving ceaselessly, 
 And sleep-rocked tarns and myriad forms of beauty^ 
 Visions of yester eve returning robed, 
 Robed in still glories of the dreamland dales 
 We gathering from the relics of those dreams 
 That lay about the halls of memory 
 Have woven this our varied wreath of song, 
 Soft dedication to the dreams of air: 
 
8 PRELUDE. 
 
 And unto whatsoever mind may sound 
 
 In harmony with ours we dedicate 
 
 Ere it be faded, as perchance it may 
 
 Fade, fall and mix i' the trodden dust of man, 
 
 We dedicate, and proffer unto hands 
 
 That shall receive it for the sake of song, 
 
 And treasure it as promise of the years. 
 
 And praise the flowers in hope that aftertides 
 
 Shall view the full-bloomed autumn gathering, 
 
 When fruit, we trust, shall take the place of 
 
 flowers 
 To these alone we dedicate with joy 
 This love-toil of sweet hours this wreath of song. 
 
 
 *f 
 
THE LYRIC OF THE REED. 
 
 THE LYRIC OF THE REED. 
 
 I SAT by a river bank, when the woods were vocal 
 and sweet; 
 
 With the hawthorns above my head, and forget-me- 
 nots at my feet. 
 
 When the warm west wind just stirred the flag- 
 flowers about the brink, 
 
 And the twilight's crimson rim o'er the hills began 
 to sink. 
 
 When the flush of the day was low, and the Star 
 of Love first gleamed, 
 
 Like a firefly over the vale, and the crescent moon- 
 rays streamed. 
 
lo THE LYRIC OF THE REED. 
 
 Then I took from the sandy marge a reed where 
 
 the rushes grew, 
 Palm-like above the river, golden and green in 
 
 hue : 
 
 And I fashioned it into form, and I played on it 
 
 like a Pan, 
 And its whispers began to mingle with the depths 
 
 of my inner man. 
 
 And there in the twilight hour, when the odorous 
 
 winds blew faint, 
 I seemed to gather this meaning, from its soft and 
 
 thrilling plaint 
 
 "The Poet is Nature's child, he lives in a world 
 
 alone. 
 And the eager crowd rush on, nor list to his mystic 
 
 tone : 
 
THE LYRIC OF THE REED. ii 
 
 "And the sons of the Iron Age laugh at his deepest 
 song, 
 
 But he stands apart from the mob, from the shallow- 
 hearted throng, 
 
 "Who scorn what in happier days in the past 
 
 enchanted years, 
 Would have gladdened the souls of the Great, and 
 
 melted them into tears. 
 
 "We have fallen on sordid times, when the Earth 
 
 is all common-place. 
 When to sing is a shameful waste, and to link into 
 
 subtle grace 
 
 "The pent-up passions and powers of the inmost 
 
 soul is neglect. 
 For this is an Age of bronze, and lacquer, and 
 
 cUque, and sect ! 
 
It THE LYRIC OF THE REED. 
 
 "When Virtue is second rate, and Love but a 
 iUr. brain-sick dream, 
 
 When Lucre runs riot, and Vice engulfs the world 
 in its stream. 
 
 *'0 Dante and Petrarch, methinks, from the weird 
 
 song-land could ye glance 
 O'er this money-stricken earth, that heeds not Song 
 
 or Romance; ; 
 
 "That scoffs at poetic lays and tramples them in 
 
 the dust. 
 Ye would weep great drops of blood o'er this aeon 
 
 of Gold and Lust. 
 
 "O Shakespeare and Milton ! ye too have felt the 
 
 distrustful age, 
 Ye too have languished in pain o'er the tear-blotted 
 
 story page. * 
 
THE LYRIC OF THE REED. 13 
 
 "Yet heed not, oh aching heart, though thy spirit 
 
 repines and grieves, 
 The blackest cloud looms ere dawn, and Hope, in 
 
 the deep East weaves 
 
 "The dream of a golden morn, that over the world 
 
 will burst. 
 When the nations will hang on the breaths of the 
 
 Poets, as in the erst : 
 
 "When the sons of culture will walk in the gardens 
 
 of Poesy, 
 'Neath the spell of the old-world's trust, in the 
 
 unborn years yet to be/' 
 
 The soul-stirring music ceased, the moon rose over 
 
 the vale, 
 And all was still save the thrill of the warbling 
 
 nightingale ; 
 
 '!tu. 
 
14 THE LYRIC OF THE REED. 
 
 But there by the river brink, with the sleeping 
 
 flowers on the slope, 
 The lay of the reed returned, and whispered 
 
 "Courage and Hope." 
 
 a. 
 
 A MEMORY. 
 
 Not in the summer days 
 When the noontide blazes 
 
 Through a filmy haze, 
 On the poor parched daisies, 
 And the glaring ways 
 
 When you tire of play. 
 Tire of talk and laughter, 
 
 Of the languid day 
 
 And what may be after, 
 All but sleep, you say 
 
A MEMORY. 15 
 
 When the years to be 
 
 Shadow not your pleasure 
 In the world you see 
 
 Full of laughing leisure 
 
 Think not then of me. 
 
 Not in dancing time, 
 Or in time of singing 
 
 Full of sound and rhyme, 
 And the thrill of singing 
 Strings and feet that chime 
 
 But 'when coming day 
 Brings an end of dances, 
 
 Beauty fades away, 
 
 Lamps and flowers and fancies, 
 As the world grows grey 
 
A MEMORY. 
 
 When the sound of wheels .^^^ i^Oru^\ 
 
 Wearies you in going, 
 And the landscape feels 
 
 Strange beyond all knowing, 
 
 As the dawning steals 
 
 When the last stars shine 
 
 Faint as dying embers, 
 May my soul divine 
 
 That your heart remembers 
 
 Any word of mine ? 
 
 As the grey clouds grow 
 
 Into gold above you, 
 Will your dreaming know 
 
 What I feel that love you, 
 
 I that love you so? 
 
 b. 
 
DULL DAYS. 
 
 DULL DAYS. 
 
 Some days are dull, the sky nor smiles nor weeps, 
 
 'Twill only frown; 
 Sullen suspense her weary watches keeps 
 
 Till night comes down. 
 
 Some days of life are very dull and dreary, 
 
 Nor sad nor bright; 
 The heart remains monotonously weary 
 
 Until the night. 
 
 Then comes the night of nature, and of sorrow, 
 
 And a dark fight; 
 The world sees not the struggle, and the morrow 
 
 Is often bright. 
 
A POLITICAL ALLEGORY. 
 
 A POLITICAL ALLEGORY. 
 
 Once there was a famous nation 
 
 With a long and glorious past: 
 Very splendid was its station, 
 
 And its territory vast. 
 It had gained the approbation, 
 The applause and admiration 
 Of the states who'd had occasion 
 In a time of tribulation 
 And of disorganisation 
 
 To observe it standing fast 
 Without any trepidation, 
 
 Firm and faithful to the last. 
 
 Came a time of dire distraction, 
 Full of terror and despair, 
 
 When a delicate transaction 
 Called for unexampled care; 
 
A POLITICAL ALLEGORY. 19 
 
 And the people were directed, 
 Both the well and ill affected, 
 To a wholly unexpected 
 And surprising course of action 
 
 Based on motives new and rare 
 (Being governed by a faction, 
 
 As they generally were). 
 
 In a little time the nation 
 
 Had a chance of saying whether 
 It and its administration 
 
 Seemed inclined to pull together; 
 And it spoke its mind with vigour : 
 
 "Such disgraceful conduct must 
 Everlastingly disfigure 
 
 Future annals, and disgust 
 Evermore the candid student: 
 You have been unwise, imprudent, 
 
 Pusillanimous, unjust, 
 
A POLITICAL ALLEGORY. 
 
 And neglectful of the glory, 
 Appertaining to our name 
 
 Till this melancholy story 
 Put a period to our fame." 
 
 So this faction, disappointed, 
 
 Lost the national good graces, 
 And their rivals were anointed 
 
 And were set in the high places. 
 Pretty soon arose conditions 
 
 Most embarrassing and hard, 
 And the party politicians 
 
 Had to be upon their guard. 
 Illegitimate ambitions, 
 Democratic rhetoricians, 
 Persons prone to base submissions. 
 Men of warlike dispositions, 
 
 And a host of wary foes 
 
A POLITICAL ALLEGORY. 
 
 Compassed round the ruling faction : 
 But a certain line of action 
 
 They incontinently chose : 
 And with great determination 
 Wrought it out with acclamation, 
 Till the national taxation 
 
 Not unnaturally rose. 
 
 To the nation soon occurred an 
 
 Opportunity of saying 
 What they thought about the burden 
 
 Which the government was laying 
 On their shoulders; and they said it 
 
 In uncompromising terms : 
 ''Your behaviour would discredit 
 
 Tigers, crocodiles, or worms. 
 You have ruined and disgraced us. 
 And successfully effaced us 
 From the proud commanding station, 
 
A POLITICAL ALLEGORY. 
 
 Where the zeal and penetration 
 
 Of our ancestors had placed us. 
 Go ! we are a ruined nation, 
 But, before our dissolution 
 We pronounce your condemnation- 
 Sappers of our constitution, 
 Slayers of our reputation ! " 
 
 But the nation mark the moral, 
 For its value is untold 
 
 During each successive quarrel 
 Grew and prospered as of old. 
 
 d. 
 
AFTERNOON CHAPEL. 23 
 
 AFTERNOON CHAPEL. 
 
 Cloud overhead and darkening of the skies, 
 Yet the glow lingers on the pictured panes 
 Reluctantly, and. gold and ruby wanes 
 
 From robes of saints and royal blazonries, 
 
 But let the monotones of prayer arise. 
 
 And the choir's music, louder than the rain's, 
 
 Blend with the organ. Though the wind com- 
 plains, 
 
 Without the windows still its wailing dies. 
 
 Yet must we leave at length the goodly fane, 
 And as the closing of the carven door 
 Shuts in the vision of the shrine dim-lit. 
 
 We meet the passionate weeping of the rain ; 
 The wind's old wail is sadder than before. 
 And nothing in the music answers it. 
 
 b. 
 
24 LES JARDINS DES TUILERIES. 
 
 LES JARDINS DES TUILERIES. 
 
 Far away I close my eyes, 
 At the dying hour of day, 
 See again thy moon-lit skies 
 
 Jardin des Tuileries. 
 
 Roam beneath thy orange-bowers, 
 See thy silvern fountains play, 
 Foaming by the dew-dimm'd flowers 
 
 Jardin des Tuileries. 
 
 Wander on thy broad white walks, 
 
 When the earth is filled with May; 
 Linger in discursive talks 
 
 Jardin des Tuileries. 
 
NUPTA. 
 
 Hand in hand again we steal, 
 
 By thy violet-scented way, 
 When the bells for vespers peal 
 
 Jardin des Tuileries. 
 Wheresoe'er my home may be, 
 
 Whatsoe'er the world may say. 
 
 Thou wilt crown my phantasy 
 
 Jardin des Tuileries. 
 a. 
 
 NUPTA. 
 
 Delightful days of converse sweet 
 When more than sister, back returned 
 She soothed the hearts that long had yearned 
 
 Her voice, her look, her smile to greet ! 
 
 With love's rich lesson in her eyes, . 
 
 And on her lips his language rare. 
 
 She came, a breath of purer air, 
 A star from some serener skies. 
 
 25 
 
i6 THE WHEEL OF LIFE. 
 
 No longer child, but woman grown, 
 With warmer heart, if that could be. 
 Instinct with larger sympathy, 
 
 Her spring-tide graces wider blown. 
 
 She came and went : we chafed no more. 
 With her great gladness satisfied, 
 And set again the window wide 
 
 That our white dove might landward soar ! 
 
 /. 
 
 THE WHEEL OF LIFE. 
 
 Oh, yes ! Life is a weary wheel. 
 That turns for ever in the stream; 
 
 Sometimes the currents rage and reel, 
 And glide sometimes with silvery gleam. 
 
THE TOWN BRIDGE, 17 
 
 But unlike every other wheel, 
 
 E'en those that ne'er in rest remain, 
 
 Life spins its never tiring reel; 
 
 But no part e'er comes round again. 
 
 c, 
 
 THE TOWN BRIDGE. 
 
 Still, so still: 
 
 Where the grey dim arches start 
 Nothing beats except my heart; 
 Down beneath the waters part 
 
 Silently, silently. 
 
 Still, so still; 
 
 On the mist-robed calm below 
 Sways the eve-light to and fro, 
 And the bright stars come and go 
 
 Silently, silently. 
 
28 THE TO WIST BRIDGE. 
 
 Still, so still: 
 
 Rest beneath their bosom lies, 
 
 Sleep of sleep for brimming eyes; 
 
 One deep plunge, and sorrow flies 
 
 Silently, silently ! 
 
 Still, so still: 
 
 From the waters turn and gaze 
 O'er true eve-lights thro' the haze. 
 Where stars move eternal ways 
 
 Silently, silently, 
 
 Still, so still: 
 
 Come away, and let us go; 
 
 Surely there is rest below, 
 
 Where the slumberer sleeps from woe 
 Silently, silently. 
 
MIDNIGHT. 
 
 MIDNIGHT. 
 
 29 
 
 A SPACE of blue unfathomable night, 
 Solemn with sense of all the stars unseen 
 Veiled shades of banks, and shadow-bridge between, 
 
 And mist-encircled blurs and points of light 
 
 The river rolling in mysterious might, 
 
 And dim as dreams that doubt of what they mean, 
 And boats and men, as ghosts of what has been : 
 
 All this we feel, with deeper sense than sight. 
 
 Day would give back dull roofs and blackened 
 towers; 
 A sullen stream, grey lightless piles of stone ; 
 And fierce pursuit of pleasures, nought enjoyed. 
 
 Better the mystic moonless midnight hours, 
 And the dim vision, limitless and lone, 
 Of the vast city asleep, and vaster void. 
 
 b. 
 
30 . THE GLEANER'S CONSOLATION. 
 
 THE GLEANER'S CONSOLATION. 
 As I was looking on the golden harvest 
 
 And on the gleaners gathering the grain, 
 I thought how trifling was the gleaners' portion 
 
 Beside the reapers' heavy, creaking wain. 
 But turning homeward, dreamily reflecting, 
 
 I said "The gleaners share, tho' it be less, 
 Is none the less of the same precious substance 
 
 As those before have reaped in rich excess." 
 And with this came a thought that half rebuked me, 
 
 And yet encouraged, saying ''In this age 
 There is a harvest of rich thoughts for reaping: 
 
 I'he reapers are the poet, seer, and sage." 
 "I cannot be a reaper; I must follow, 
 
 And glean some ears of the immortal grain: 
 Walk where the great have walked before, and 
 stooping. 
 With patience seek the fragments that remain." 
 
 c. 
 
GOOD FRIDAY, 1880. 31 
 
 GOOD FRIDAY, 1880. 
 
 O Man of men, O world-dividing Name, 
 
 bruised Body, fevered with the shame, 
 
 There, 'twixt the earth and heavens, yet crowned 
 with fame. 
 Haggard and pale, I see Thee crucified. 
 
 1 mark that blood-fringed brow, that wreath of 
 
 thorns. 
 That far-off look, while mockers shout their scorns; 
 Perchance Thou dreamest of the vanished morns 
 Of youth, when life was budding in its pride. 
 
 O sacred Face, O gracious Nazarene, 
 Man-Hke in death, yet God-like in Thy mien, 
 Around Thy Head a Light of mystic sheen 
 Shines through the ages, glorifying Space. 
 
32 THE NIGHT IS AS CLEAR AS THE DA Y. 
 
 And I would carry, in my inmost core, 
 A reflex from its glow, to mellow more. 
 The Flame that never glowed on sea or shore ! 
 Yet sanctifies, unseen, the desert place. 
 
 a. 
 
 "THE NIGHT IS AS CLEAR AS THE DAY." 
 
 The night is as clear as the day: 
 O golden the fair clime must be 
 Where never a shadow of bitterness lay 
 In the land of the buoyant and free ! 
 
 Henceforth when the glooms of despair, 
 Dense-shadowing, over me stray, 
 I'll sing for the peace of the paradise there, 
 Where the night is as clear as the day! 
 
PREJUDICE, 
 
 PREJUDICE. 
 
 The faults of others as they pass, 
 Are with much profit known, 
 
 When, in reflection's faithful glass. 
 We view them as our own. 
 
 But Prejudice ah ! who shall find. 
 By this self- searching plan? 
 
 We note another's darkened mind, 
 Our own we never can. 
 
 For in our reason's searching light 
 Their blindness stands exposed; 
 
 But who with any mortal sight, 
 Can see his own eyes closed? 
 
 33 
 
34 NOCTURNE. 
 
 NOCTURNE. 
 
 The twilight ebbs across the fading sky, 
 And the tide sinks and the long beach is dry, 
 Save where the bitter pools and streamlets steep 
 The barren sand, like tears of misery 
 That the sad sea is weeping, even as I 
 ^For pain of love and sorrow without sleep. 
 
 I lean into the night with panting lipsj 
 There is no air to shake the sails of ships 
 
 And rouse the beating pulses of the deep ; 
 Only a sound of the thin brook that drips. 
 And sighing ripples on the sandy strips, 
 
 Moved by the moving tide that knows not sleep. 
 
 Yet now the sea i^, still and pacified, 
 The sighing softens as the sands grow wide, 
 At the far end of the long backward sweep ; 
 
NOCTURNE. 35 
 
 The utter ebb and pausing of the tide ; 
 For the sea-winds and all the waves have died, 
 And the world's trouble almost seems to sleep. 
 
 Last night I dreamed that I lay happily 
 Where the deep water and the foam are free, 
 
 And all strange lovely creatures swim and creep ; 
 My hair was as the sea-weed in the sea, 
 And the green light was tender over me, 
 
 So I was glad to feel myself asleep. 
 
 It may be thus that I shall seek for rest 
 When the full tide comes calling from the west, 
 
 With sound of voices not as those that weep ; 
 It may be this shall soothe the heaving breast, 
 The lips unloved and the hot hands unpressed, 
 
 For surely in the ocean there is sleep. 
 
 32 
 
36 TO DISAPPOINTMENT, 
 
 And yet, O eyes forgetful of your faith ! 
 O: love, will you remember but in death? 
 
 Is there no echo that your heart can keep? 
 The tide has turned ; and with the tide its breath 
 Comes landward whispering to me and saith. 
 
 Love is not lost that only seems to sleep. 
 
 b. 
 
 TO DISAPPOINTMENT. 
 
 Oh Disappointment, how unkind, 
 
 How foolish also to upbraid thee; 
 
 For Love, who now has long been blind, 
 Before his eyes were dazzled, made thee. 
 
 And now thou art of all his train 
 
 The wisest and the kindest creature; 
 
 And must, despite thy name, remain 
 His one undisappointing feature. 
 
EPITAPH ON GEORGE HEATH. 
 
 By pleasure's lips we'd fain be kissed, 
 And failing will not then caress thee; 
 
 But seeing, after, what we've missed, 
 
 How thankfully we turn and bless thee ! 
 
 37 
 
 WRITTEN BY THE GRAVE OF 
 
 GEORGE HEATH, THE MOORLAND POET 
 
 IN HORTON CHURCHYARD. 
 
 Here 'neath the low-lying heap. 
 With the musical May all around. 
 
 Stretched in a slumberless sleep. 
 
 Wrapped in the dark moorland ground, 
 When the earth with the wind-flowers is crown'd, 
 
 He rests where the violets peep. 
 
 One, whom the world never knew, 
 
 Whose chords scarcely rippled the breeze ; 
 
38 EPITAPH ON OEORGE HEATH. 
 
 One of the song-gifted few, 
 
 Lying here 'neath the dim aspen trees, 
 Dead! while the chant of the bees 
 
 And the wild birds steal over the dew. 
 
 In the days that have summer'd and flower'd, 
 In the years when his youth felt the stream 
 
 Of the pent-up passions, and dower' d 
 His soul with the poet's dream, 
 And the stars shed a mystical gleam, 
 
 And all Nature with love was empower'd; 
 
 Did his arduous mind pant and yearn 
 As he paced by the moon-shadowed ways ; 
 
 Did his mellowing Muse ever burn, 
 As she whispered his handful of lays, 
 For the meed of the popular praise, 
 
 And the glorified funeral urn? 
 
I know not his life was a thread 
 
 In the woof Culture weaves hour by hour; 
 
 The cowslips droop over his head, 
 
 And the sun-flush broods o'er the church tower, 
 And Spring fills the earth with its power, 
 
 But the singer lies here 'mid the dead ! 
 
 a. 
 
 *HA6cac ANexecGe tcon A^poNOON. 
 
 Gladly, gladly ye suffer fools, 
 
 Seeing that ye yourselves are wise ! 
 Looking down the throng as they struggle along, 
 Misled by their foolish faith in the wrong 
 Oh ! verily ye are wise ! 
 
40 'H5^ws dv^x^^^^' 
 
 Immotionate shrines of the balanced mind, 
 From your cold heights ye gaze down, 
 With a chilling sneer, on the holy fear 
 That sheds to the nightstar many a tear, 
 Or at best with a scathing frown. 
 
 Oh blind, thrice blind, when the heart is strung, 
 
 Ye know no more than I : 
 Then veil your scorn ere the day be born 
 And ye yourselves, with plight forlorn. 
 
 Are dazed at the flaming sky ! 
 
 Am I bitter ? Ah ! well, but ye cut the heart 
 
 With the cold keen blade of scorn; 
 
 Ye search for light till the days be bright 
 
 God knows it is dark enough in the night 
 
 Peace then for the day shall dawn ! 
 
GREATNESS. 41 
 
 GREATNESS. 
 
 Their names are great and shall endure, 
 Whose lives are crowned with noble thought ; 
 
 But they, tho' crownless and obscure. 
 Are greater who have nobly wrought. 
 
 TO E. R. C. 
 
 Should you be taken from my side away, 
 
 Beyond my ken and where I may not come, 
 Rest in the falling shadows of the day, 
 
 Where autumn whirlings are the sad year's sum- 
 Then I perchance, all dim of fears and tears, 
 
 Weeping apart, should give to God my moan; 
 You meantime slumbering where the spirit hears 
 
 The angel clarion and the golden tone. 
 
^3 
 
 42 TO E. R. C. 
 
 Then for an hoar, if God would will it so, 
 Oh may you leave the sight and light of love ; 
 
 And o'er the sunflamed snowcloud downward flow 
 Spirit to spirit from the Unknown Above. 
 
 Then in the flush and hushing of the eve, 
 Dreamlike, thy radiant soul, at one with mine, 
 
 Should breathe the unseen glorious things that weave 
 In faith's deep vision fashion most divine. 
 
 Then I should hear which way the spirit fled 
 When closed thine eyes and life's sweet lamp 
 burned low, 
 
 When some unknown but awful thing of dread 
 Moved in the eve and bade the spirit go. 
 
 Then should I hear what passing thought of me, 
 What lingering joy of earth's departed hours, 
 
 Soft nestling rested in the being free 
 
 E'en when ascending toward the flaming towers. 
 
FLOTSAM. 43 
 
 Come then, if thou shouldst die, if so may be 
 A kindly hand to guide athro' the gloom, 
 
 Else, leave a little slumber space for me 
 Side by thy side within the mossy tomb. 
 
 e. 
 
 FLOTSAM. 
 
 The sands that bury and forget. 
 
 The sea's forgetfulness of foam, 
 The sky that knew us never yet, 
 
 Stand round about our homeless home. 
 Wet weeds upon unnoted graves, ' 
 
 Heavens clenched in clouds of pitiless grey, 
 And refluent ruin of white waves, 
 
 These are the words they say. 
 
 Earth can but say the speech of years. 
 Slow days and years and times that tire 
 
 With trouble of man's fruitless tears 
 And unattainable desire; 
 
44 FLOTSAM. 
 
 And each man answers back the earth 
 With life whose limits have but held 
 
 One only gain of little worth, 
 A kiss unchronicled. 
 
 OVER THE BEAUTIFUL WATERS. 
 
 * * The world is void of thee but Space 
 Is something holier than before." 
 
 Over the beautiful waters my love has wandered 
 
 away, 
 Where the foam lines brighten and lighten in glow 
 
 of the day, 
 Where the plains of the waters around and about 
 
 him lay. 
 No land on the dim horizon, no isle where the 
 
 billows play. 
 
OVER THE BEAUTIFUL WATERS. 45 
 
 And I shall weep him and weep him, because I 
 
 know that he lies 
 With his fair head on the deep weeds, and the 
 
 films of death in his eyes; 
 I shall weep him, while o'ersweeps him every 
 
 tempest, as it flies, 
 And the sullen storm bemoaning, on his wave-tost 
 
 resting dies. 
 
 Over the beautiful waters, afar on the glittering 
 
 plain 
 Merrily dashes the sunbeam, and lightly plashes the 
 
 rain, 
 But below them and beneath them, where the 
 
 pearl shells remain. 
 
 Lies my love and sleeps my love, and I shall not 
 know him again. 
 
46 AU CHATEAU DE SANG. 
 
 AU CHATEAU DE SANG. 
 
 *'Zd! voyez-vous crottre 
 La tour du vieux cloitre, 
 Et le grand mur noir 
 Du royal manoir ? " 
 
 Alfred de Vigny. 
 
 A LEAGUE from Tours, o'er the moon-shadow' d hill, 
 Thy gloomy pile frowns on the wooded steep; 
 
 Thy gardens with sweet scents the still air fill, 
 Beneath there rolls the river dark and deep. 
 
 Thy tinkling fountains murmur lullabies, 
 Through one eternal summer-sabbath eve; 
 
 In thy dim cloister-walks the low light dies, 
 And wandering in the enchanted gloom, I weave, 
 
 In measured rhymes, the story of the Past 
 
 What wondrous deeds of prowess hast thou seen ! 
 
 Here where a glory from the moon is cast, 
 
 Here where the rose-leaves flutter on the green, 
 
AU CHATEAU DE SANG. 47 
 
 How many a tournament, and feat of power 
 Has thrown a lustre, and a spark of fame ; 
 
 And, from the oriel-niche of that grey tower, 
 
 How many a white hand waved a glad acclaim ! 
 
 And in your marble chapel, rich in gold 
 And silver banners, many a nameless saint 
 
 Has knelt, when star-beams flickered o'er the wold, 
 And chaunted, till the dawn, his lowly plaint 1 
 
 Forgotten visions of the Erst return ; 
 
 The dreamy legends of the ancient days 
 Crowd on my fancy, in my memory burn. 
 
 Mingle their voices with my random lays. 
 
 Yet thou, through cloud and spring-bloom, still 
 loom'st o'er, 
 The shining valley and the vine-clad steep, 
 
 n 
 
 Thy babblmg streams may gleam with purple gore , 
 Thy glen may echo cannon's booming deep. 
 
48 AU CHATEAU DE SANG, 
 
 Thy forest mazes hid the fleeing foe, 
 
 Thy groves be desecrate by spoilers' feet; 
 
 But thou remainest, 'neath the red sun's glow^ 
 Strong in thy beauty through the storm and sleet. 
 
 Beside thy antique dial, hand-in-hand 
 With him the latest of thy lordly race 
 
 When Tours and Loches are wrapped in sleep, I 
 stand, 
 And gaze upon thy stately art and grace. 
 
 Through the sweet night, we roam about thy walks. 
 While the caressing air blows faint and cold. 
 
 Pacing a while, in meditative talks. 
 And dreaming of the knightly deeds of old. 
 
 Le chctteau de sang, 
 Tours. 
 
DISS A TISFA CTION. 49 
 
 DISSATISFACTION. 
 
 I. 
 
 When life is young, and might be happy, 
 The brightest joys we're wont to miss, 
 
 While idly painting, from our fancy, 
 The picture of some future bliss. 
 
 II. 
 
 In after years, when joys are scarcer, 
 And with some taste of sorrow tainted. 
 
 We lose the most in useless sighing 
 O'er pictures only fancy painted. 
 
50 PUELLUL^. 
 
 PUELLUL^. 
 
 The rose flashed out in a world of flowers, 
 
 With sweet lips cleft to smile: 
 And to her the South spake low in showers 
 
 Of a love that knew no guile. 
 
 But the pale snow-bloom, she dwelt alone, 
 
 And ever scanned the sky, 
 A frozen queen on her mountain-throne, 
 
 With a meek mysterious eye. 
 
 And which was the fairer ? ^well-a-day ! 
 And which made more delight? 
 
 For red and rare was the rose, men say, 
 But the snow-bloom rare and white. 
 
 / 
 
DESPAIR. 51 
 
 DESPAIR. 
 
 Her eyes were hollow with a depth of pain, 
 Her face was pallid as her pinched white Hps, 
 Her bloodless hands were linked in stony grips ; 
 
 She wandered 'lone beside the moaning main. 
 
 Her naked feet were bleeding on the stones, 
 Her swan-like neck peered o'er the sun-dyed sea ; 
 She gazed a while in speechless misery, 
 
 Then murmured in unconscious monotones : 
 
 "Ah me, sweet Death! but, why so long delay? 
 I fain would feel thy icy kiss, and weep 
 My frozen sorrow on thy breast, and sleep 
 
 In dreamless quiet, through an endless day. 
 
 " I fain would lie beneath the daisied mound, 
 Hearing, yet heeding not, in that dark bed. 
 The foot-falls in the long grass overhead. 
 
 Wending their way athwart the holy ground. ' 
 
 42 
 
52 DESPAIR. 
 
 "Ah me! alas! the summer-coloured hours 
 Are grey and arid, for my soul is sore; 
 Ah me ! to deaden thought for evermore, 
 
 To slumber still beneath the moon-kiss'd flowers. 
 
 " I hear no answer from the broad-blown bay, 
 No faint response from zones of dying light, 
 No music from the voices of the night, 
 
 No song of hope from out the first blue ray." 
 
 So wept the maiden, with sob-broken staves, 
 At length a silence fell and in the night, 
 Beneath the stars I found her cold and white, 
 
 Dead, by the rippling of the star-lit waves. 
 
IN THE HAMMOCK. 53 
 
 IN THE HAMMOCK. 
 
 There is a tremor in the windless air 
 
 That scarce may stir the leaves above my head ; 
 The weariness of sunlight lies like lead 
 On the gold-green of grasses ; and the glare 
 Of scarlet flowers burns all the flower-beds bare, 
 Save of that blinding splendour of sheer red ; 
 And I methinks am living and not dead, 
 But other life there seems not anywhere, 
 Yet somewhere surely are the nightly throngs 
 Of those that toil and sorrow and are wise 
 More than my thought can ever understand; 
 Less seem they than the least of dreamy songs 
 In the closed book of songs unread that lies 
 Under the hammock fallen from my hand. 
 
 b. 
 
54 THE TWO BARQUES. 
 
 THE TWO BARQUES. 
 
 A BARQUE roll'd on across the sea, 
 
 Deep-veiled in storm and rain; 
 For the steersman let the helm go free 
 
 As tho' all hope were vain. 
 
 The white-crown'd billows foamed and tossed 
 
 And fled the barque alone : 
 Then vanished, hopeless, helpless, lost, 
 
 Far in the deep unknown. 
 
 Another barque the waters passed 
 The storm beat stern and strong 
 
 But the steersman held the rudder fast 
 And sped the deep along. 
 
MV WISH. 55 
 
 Then broke the gloom, the sun arose 
 
 Fell wind and rested strand ; 
 The harbour'd barque had found repose 
 
 And the steersman gained the land. 
 
 * -x- * 
 
 
 
 I hold it nobler far to keep 
 
 And clutch the helm and wait for day 
 Than when the first fierce tempests sweep 
 
 Fling hope and trust and faith away. 
 
 MY WISH. 
 (Written in an Album.) 
 
 What good now, never wished before, 
 Wish I for thee were held in store? 
 For virtue, beauty, wit and health, 
 To have the coarse desire for wealth, 
 Have all been wished full many a time 
 
56 MY WISH. 
 
 In every mood and tune of rhyme ; 
 And I would like to wish for you 
 Something that is both sweet and new : 
 But 'tis so hard to be concise 
 And shape into some neat device 
 My wishes, that would crowd a book, 
 To suit an album's modest nook. 
 My mind with doubts so sorely fraught, 
 In haste I'd better wish thee naught; 
 I doubt 'tis this that makes me falter, 
 There's aught that I could wisely alter: 
 Then shall I wish thee aught? not I. 
 Some greater mind will doubtless try ; 
 But I feel far too much afraid 
 To spoil a life divinely made. 
 But this I wish, I fear too much, 
 Unvaried by the slightest touch, 
 The only wish that seems to strike me, 
 , I wish, in truth, that more were like thee. 
 
TO -. 57 
 
 TO . 
 
 That was a golden day when first thy hand 
 Clasped mine in one long pressure, though the 
 leaves 
 Of autumn strewed the dark blue misty land, 
 And though the fields were bare, and drooping 
 
 sheaves 
 Of corn were housed beneath the frosted eaves : 
 Yet that bright hour shines still ; my heart un- 
 weaves, 
 Grows vocal into song, as though a wand 
 
 Of magic minstrel touched its iron greaves, 
 And I recall to its enchanted end, 
 That joyous morn, when first you called me Friend. 
 
 What bliss was mine ! I trod on silver feet, 
 I close my eyes at eve and image thee. 
 
 Seated again, in yonder sloping seat. 
 Conversing of the dreams of Liberty : 
 
58 TO . 
 
 Dear Friend but all that thou hast been to me, 
 Thou canst not know ; yet, worthless though it be, 
 I consecrate this lyric, little meet 
 
 To claim thy thoughts, but when Philosophy 
 May pall and weary, let these idle rhymes, 
 Rewake the memories of forgotten times. 
 
 a. 
 
 THE THISTLE. 
 
 Mark you the thistle-seeds, borne on the air 
 Hither and thither and heaven knows where ; 
 Thro' the still woodlands slowly they stray 
 O'er field and river floating away. 
 
 Surely next summer-time, white in the sun, 
 Thousands shall flourish where now you see one 
 You cannot number them floating away. 
 Think you to count them a year from to-day? 
 
THE THISTLE. 59 
 
 Look in your heart, friend, there you will find. 
 Seeds of much evil afloat on the mind. 
 Crush every root of them cast them away ! 
 Think you to count them a year from to-day? 
 
 May be another year, you'll look again, 
 Trying to root them out, struggling in vain, 
 What if you find that it can't be undone ? 
 Find many flourish where now there is one ? 
 
 This is the hour then, for harvest is near, 
 See how they sail in the fall of the year ! 
 Root them out, cast them out, fling them away. 
 Never a weed be found next summer day ! 
 
6o A BALLAD OF A GARDEN. 
 
 A BALLAD OF A GARDEN. 
 
 With flash of the Hght oars swiftly plying 
 The sharp prow furrows the watery way, 
 
 The ripples reach to the bank in d)ang, 
 
 And soft shades shudder and long lights play, 
 In the still dead heat of the drowsy day, 
 
 As on I sweep with the stream that flows 
 By languid lilies and boats astray 
 
 To the garden of grace whose name none knows. 
 
 There ever a whispering wind goes sighing 
 
 Filled with scent of the new-mown hay 
 Over the flower-hedge peering and prying, 
 
 Wooing the rose as with words that pray; 
 
 And the waves from the broad white river bay 
 Slide through clear channels to dream and doze, 
 
 Or rise in a fountain's silver spray 
 In the garden of grace whose name none knows. 
 
A BALLAD OF A GARDEN. 6i 
 
 The sweet white rose with the red rose vying 
 
 Blooms when the summer follows the May, 
 Till the stream be hid by the lost leaves lying, 
 
 That autumn shakes where the lilies lay. 
 
 But now all bowers and beds are gay, 
 And no rain ruffles the flower that blows, 
 
 And still on the water soft streams stay 
 In the garden of grace whose name none knows. 
 
 L'envoi. 
 Before the blue of the sky grows grey 
 
 And the frayed leaves fall from the faded rose, 
 Love's lips shall sing what the day-dreams say 
 
 In the garden of grace whose name none knows. 
 
62 HOME. 
 
 HOME. 
 
 Home ! so he cried and swift the bounding keel 
 Drove thro' the dark, and cut the chilHng foam, 
 
 And dashed it o'er his brow, 
 
 But he soft murmured Home! 
 
 His fair locks fluttered in the frenzied gale. 
 Like thunder fell the billows into foam, 
 
 But on the crested wave 
 
 He rode soft sighing Home ! 
 
 A long rift grew across the leaden night, 
 And tipped with silver ray the rising foam, 
 Then thro' the rift he sped 
 And passed soft echoing Home ! 
 
HOME. 63 
 
 Then, in the morning gladness, I arose. 
 
 There was a pale face, paler than the foam, 
 But I wept not that morn : 
 " He had but journeyed Home ! " 
 
 e. 
 
 The wreath is woven, may its fragrance steal, 
 Sweet as the breath of lilies in the Spring, 
 From where the far-famed city brinks the Cam, 
 Eastward and westward, bearing rich perfume 
 Of buds of Hope and Beauty, and perchance 
 Wafting its odours down the stream of Song. 
 
 jridge: printed by c. j. clay, m.a., at the university press.