POEMS THESE are the many-coloured beads of life ; Blame me not, gentle reader, if their hues Should please thee little, for I did but choose And thread them where I found them, by the strife Of Time's great ocean cast upon the shore- Stay thou with me awhile, and tell them o'er. POEMS BY DORA GREENWELL ALEXANDER STRAHAN, PUBLISHER 56, LUDGATE HILL, LONDON 1867 SetitcatrU TO THE MEMORY OF ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING. " If I despair of being like to thee, I, for such likeness, give thee boundless love." Schiller's "Don Carlos. CONTENTS PAGE Christina, ...... i God's Singer, . . ... . .20 A Story of Olden Time, ..... 33 Seeking, 49 The Kiss, ...... 54 When the Night and Morning meet, . . -57 The Soul's Parting, ..... 60 Reconciliation, ...... 63 Gone, ....... 66 Haunted Ground, ..... 69 Poets, 74 A Comparison, . . . . . -77 The Eternal Now, ..... 79 Consolation, . . . . . .81 Pencil-marks in a Book of Devotion, . . .87 Faint, yet Pursuing, ..... 89 CONTENTS. PAGB Entreat for Me, .... 9 1 A Vision of Green Leaves, . . . -93 To a Long-parted Friend, . . . -97 " So it Happens," ..... 99 The Picture and the Scroll, . . . 101 To a Young Girl, . .103 A Song of Memory, ... . 105 To Josephine, . . . . . 1 1 1 The Marriage of True Minds, . . . .112 Without and Within, . . . .121 Madana, ....... 126 VALENTINES AND SONGS. Luisa, . -135 The Summer Friend, . . . . 137 " Qui sait Aimer, sait Mourir, " . . 139 The Broken Chain, . . .141 A Valentine, . . . . . J 43 A Valentine, ... H5 "IchDien," . 146 The Babes in the Wood, ... .148 Home, .... 151 The Summer Roses, . . . 152 Imitated from the Troubadour Sordel, . . .154 The Singer, . . . . . .156 To L, A. ., . . . . . 159 To Maria Ivanovna, . . . . .161 If it be Pleasant to Remember Thee, . . .163 I Span beside our Cabin Door, . . . .165 CONTENTS. A Song, . . 167 Amid Change, Unchanging .... 168 One Flower, . . . . . .170 A Scherzo, . . . . . .172 Rapture, . . . . . . .174 A Song, . 1 75 The Bridge, . . . . -177 A Picture, . . . . . .179 The Song of the Troubadour Pierre Raymond de Toulouse, 181 SONNETS. Ascending, . . . . . .187 Life Tapestry, 188 Love Birds, . . . . . .189 To a Remembered Stream, and a Never-Forgotten Friend, 191 To Elizabeth Barrett Browning in 1851, . . . 192 To Elizabeth Barrett Browning in 1 86 1, . . 193 A Midsummer Night's Dream, . . . .194 Reserve, ....... 195 Dreams, ....... 196 The Soul's Wooers, . . . . .197 Hope, ....... 198 To a Friend, ...... 199 To L. M., . . . . . . 20 1 To the Author of "Ziska," .... 203 Rest, ... 206 CONTENTS. LIBER VERITATIS. PART FIRST. PAGE To the Nineteenth Century, . . .211 To an Early Friend, . . . .213 Old Letters, .... .217 After Parting, ...... 230 In Absence, ...... 233 The First Letter, . . 235 Silence, ....... 237 In Illness, ... . 240 Divided, ...'.. . 244 Together, ... 250 To a Long-parted Friend, . . 253 To**, . . . 259 To a Distant Friend, ... . 266 To my Friends at , . . -271 Meeting, . -273 Parting, . .275 To a Departed Spirit, ..... 277 PART SECOND. The Reconciler, ... 283 The Question, . . 294 Forsaken, ... . 298 The Lesson, ... 3 The Two Religions, ... .301 Love, . . - -303 CONTENTS. PAGE In Sadness, ..... 305 The Summons, ..... - 307 Pax in Novissimo, . . . . 309 A Meditation, ..... 316 LATER POEMS. A Farewell to Youth, ..... 327 The White Crusade, . . . . -333 The Cleft, .336 The " Saturday Review," .... 340 A Dialogue, . . 345 A Song to call to Remembrance, . 351 A National Song, ..... 355 A Christmas Carol, ..... 358 Go and Come, ...... 361 A Song which none but the Redeemed can Sing, . 366 CHRISTINA. TJ*ATHER, when I am in my grave, kind Father, Take thou this cross, I had it from a girl, Take it to one that I will tell thee of, Unto Christina. I may not part with it while I have life ; I kept it by me, treasured it through years Of evil, when I dared not look upon it ; But of the love and reconciling mercy Whereof it is a token, now it speaks. Sore bitten by the fiery flying serpent, Yet have I strength to raise my languid eyes, And fix them on that Sign, for sin uplift Within the wilderness, and there my gaze B CHRISTINA. My straining gaze will fasten to the last, Death-glazed upon it. Oh ! may then my soul Be drawn up after it unperishing ! Thou knowest of my life, that I have been Saved as by fire, a brand plucked from the burning ; But not before the breath of flame had passed On all my garments, not before my spirit Shrunk up within it as a shrivelled scroll Falls from the embers, black, yet unconsumed, For One in Heaven still loved me, one on earth ! Father, I would speak to thee of Love ; We learn the price of goodliest things through losing. They who have sat in darkness bless the light, And sweetest songs have risen to Liberty From souls once bound in misery and iron ; So, Father, I would speak to thee of Love. Fain are my lips, and fain my heart to sing The glad new song that both have learned so late. Once, ere my soul had burst the fowler's snare, 1 heard a wild stern man, that stood and cried Within the market-place ; a man by love Of souls sent forth among the lanes and highways, To seek, and haply save, some wandering one CHRISTINA. Long strayed, like mine, from flock, and fold, and pastor. His words were bold and vehement ; as one Set among flints, that strove to strike a spark From out dull, hardened natures, then he used The terrors of the Lord in his persuading ; Death, Judgment, and their fearful after-looking, Grew darker at his words : " How long," he said, " O simple ones, will ye be fain to follow Hard service and hard wages, Sin and Death 1 Now, the world comes betwixt your souls and God ; Here, you can do without Him and be happy ; He speaks to you by love, ye put Him by ; But He will speak to you by wrath, and then Vain will it be to shun Him, to forget, In the next world ye may not do without Him : Seek God, run after Him, for ye must die/" Oh ! then, I thought, if one like me might speak, If I might find a voice, now would I raise A yet more bitter and exceeding cry, " Seek God, run after Him, for ye must LIVE ! I know not what it may be in that world, The future world, the wide unknown hereafter, That waits for us, to be afar from God ; CHRISTINA. Yet can I witness of a desolation That I have known ; can witness of a place Where spirits wander up and down in torment, And tell you what it is to want Him here"' I had no friends, no parents ; I was poor In all but beauty, and an innocence That was not virtue failing in the trial. Mine is a common tale, and all the sadder Because it is so common : I was sought By one that wore me for a time, then flung Me off, a rose with all its sweetness gone, Yet with enough of bloom to flaunt awhile, Although the worm was busy at its core. So I lived on in splendour, lived through years Of scorning, till my brow grew hard to meet it ; Though all the while, behind that brazen shield, My spirit shrank before each hurtling arrow That sang and whistled past me in the air. On every wall methought I saw a Hand Write evil things and bitter ; yea, the stones Took up a taunting parable against me. I looked unto the right hand and the left, But not for help, for there was none would know me. CHRISTINA. I knew that no man cared for my soul ; Yet One in heaven still loved me, one on earth ! But being then unto myself so hateful, I deemed that all did hate me, hating all ; Yet one there was I hated not, but envied, A sad, despairing envy, having this Of virtue, that it did not seek to soil The whiteness that it gazed upon, and pined. For I had loved Christina ! we had been Playmates in innocent childhood ; girlish friends, With hearts that, like the summer's half-oped buds, Grew close, and hived their sweetness for each other. She was not fair like me unto the eye, But to the heart, that showed her by its light Most lovely in the loveliness of love. I parted from her on Life's cross-road, where I parted from all good ; yet even then, Had prayers and tears prevailed, we had not parted. Long after me I heard her kind voice calling, " Return ! " yet I went on ; our paths struck wide, As were the issues that they led to; then She lost me, but I never lost her: still Across the world-wide gulf betwixt us set My soul stretched out a bridge, a slender hair, CHRISTINA. Whereon repassing swiftly to and fro, It linked itself unseen with all her lot, Oft seeking for a moment but to lose The bitter consciousness of self, to be Aught other e'en in thought than that I was. I took a portion of her innocent life Within myself ; I watched her in her ways, Unseen I looked upon her in her home, Her humble home. Yes ; I that once had scorned At lowly poverty and honest love, I know not if it were its joys or sorrows I envied most ! Her tears were like the dew That lies all night upon the fruitful field That Heaven hath blessed, and rises there again. / was like blasted corn shrunk up and mildewed, Like sere, dry grass upon the housetops growing, Whereof the mower nlleth not his arms, Nor he that bindeth up his sheaves his bosom. Earth, earth meth ought and Heaven alike refused me : None gave me the kind wish, the holy word. I had no joys, no griefs ; yet had I joyed, Then none had said, " God bless thee ! " had I grieved, Then none that passed had said, "God pity thee !" CHRISTINA. I said, Christina wept. Within her home There was one only little one, a girl : Oft had I marked her playing in the sunshine, Oft by the hearth-light on her father's knee I watched her (little did Christina think Who stood without) ; but she was taken from her, This child of many prayers and hopes : I saw The little bier borne forth ; this tender flower That Love had nursed so warm, yet could not keep, Did seem to leave a blank where it had been. Christina wept, but yet as one whose tears Rained inward on her heart, whence rising oft They filled her eyes, but did not overflow them : For still she moved about the house, serene, And when her husband sought his home at eve She met him now, as ever, with a smile, So sweet, I know not if he missed its joy. But oft I tracked her thoughts unto a field, Quiet, yet populous as the city round it, Thick sown with graves ; yet there the mother's heart Had marked a place, and there her constant feet Had worn a path. At early morn, I knew Oft went she by the grave to weep unseen, So oft at nightfall there I scattered flowers, CHRISTINA. The fairest and the sweetest I could find. I thought She will not know whose hand hath strewed them, So wonder and a loving guess may cheat Her mind, a moment taking it from grief. I stood beside that grave one summer night ; The skies were moonless, yet their dusk serene Was grateful to my spirit, for it seemed To wrap me from the world, myself, and heaven ; And all the air was soft and cool, methought It kissed my cheek as if it were a child That loved me, sinless, shrinking not from sin. Old legends say, that when the faithful join On holy Sabbaths with one fervent voice, Then doth prevailing prayer hold back awhile The edge of torment, and the lost have rest. So then, perchance, some gracious spirit wept, And prayed for sinners, for the voices died, The wailing ones, the mocking, at my heart ; And through the hush came up a wish, a yearning I know not where it took me not to heaven, Yet, had I ever prayed, it had been then ; I sought not death, for that were but a change CHRISTINA. Of being, and a passage to a world Where thought would after me to hunt and vex But to cease utterly to be, to find A place among the rocks, among the stones, With things that live not, that would never live, To pass absorbed, and be at rest for ever. So stood I, holding in that trance the flowers, A wreath of white Immortelles, that as yet I hung not on the gravestone, when I heard A sudden step, and was aware that one Had come upon me in the gloom ; I felt A grasp upon my arm, detaining kindly, A hand that sought to fold itself in mine : Before she spoke, I knew it was Christina. " And who art thou, with charitable hand Such kindness showing to the dead, the living ? Now let me look upon thy face, for long My soul hath deemed of thee as of the angels That come and go unseen, and only traced By deeds that show some gracious Presence near ; Yet, surely thou art one whom earth had taught, Through sorrow and through love, this gentleness With grieving hearts, with stricken ones ; from mine The blessing of the sorrowful be on thee !" CHRISTINA. But at her words a madness took my soul ; They seemed to mock me ; falling one by one Like gracious drops upon my heart, they smote Its stagnant waters, stirring there no spring Of life or wholesomeness : yet were they stirred. Now would I speak with her, the fire was kindled ; Long had it smouldered, long enough consumed me. Now by its flashes she shall read my soul, Methought, and look upon me as I am ; So, with a gesture of the hand, I led Christina, following on my rapid steps Like an unquestioning child, as if my will Had power to draw her, till within the door Of the great Minster passing, in the aisle's Dim light we stood, together and alone. Oft had I shunned Christina ; now beneath A steadfast lamp that burned before a shrine, Confronting her, I said, " Now look on me ; Where is the blessing that thou spakest of?" But to my words she answered not ; methought She did not catch their import so her gaze Was fastened on me then her very soul Gave way in tears ; she took me in her arms, CHRISTINA. Me, wretched one, that never thought to feel, In this, or in the after world, again Such pure embrace around me ; to her heart, That heaved as if it could not hold a joy Made out of such an anguish, close she pressed me, And, sobbing, murm'ring to herself or heaven, In language half articulate, the words Came broken : " I have found thee ! I have found thee !" " What hast thou found, Christina?" then I said, And with the words unto my lips arose A laugh of bitterness, whose mocking tones Through all the dreary hollow of my heart Woke up the echoes of its desolation ; " What hast thou found ? Speak not to me of her Whose name perchance thy lips are framing now, The Magdalene ; my life hath been as hers But not my heart, for she loved much for this The more forgiveness meeting ; I love none !" But then Christina pointed to the flowers Still hanging on my arm; " Thou lovest none !" And gently laid upon my mouth her hand, A soft restraining curb that now my speech, 12 CHRISTINA. Like an ungovernable steed sore stung And goaded into frenzy, spurned aside, And sprang the wilder ; " None, not even thee !" I cried ; but then the whiteness of her face Smote on my spirit, taming scorn to sadness. " Why should I vex thee with my words ? of love I know but as I know of God, of good, Of hope, of heaven, of all things counted holy, Know only by their names, for nought in me Gives witness to their natures ; so, to speak Of them is but to take their names in vain. Oft hast thou told me how souls hang on God Like leaves upon a gracious bough, that draw Their juices from its fulness ; long ago Mine fell from off that Tree of Life, thereon Retaining not its hold ; a withered leaf It lies, and bears the lightning's brand upon it" " Yea, truly," said Christina, " it may bear The spoiler's mark upon it, yet, like his * Of whom the Scriptures tell us, may thy soul (A watcher and an Holy One befriending) Have yet a root within the earth ; though bound About with brass and iron, still the dews * Daniel iv. TJNlVv CHRISTINA. 13 Lie on it, and the tender grass around Is wet with tears from heaven ; so may it spring Once more to greenness and to life, for all The years it felt the pressure of the band So close and grievous round it." But I cried, " There is no root ! a leaf, a withered leaf, Long tossed upon the wind, and under foot Of men long trodden in the streets and trampled, God will not gather it within His bosom ! " " And who art thou that answerest for God ? Now from this mouth of thine will I condemn thee ; For, saying that thou knowest nought of love, How canst thou judge of Him whose name it is ?" But here she clasped her fervent hands, and all The sternness melted from her : " Look on me, A sinner such as thou, yet I have loved thee ; Remembering thee above my mirth, how oft Beside the cheerful board that Heaven had blessed, I ate my bread in heaviness ; and then, Had I known where to seek thee, had risen up And left my food untasted, till I brought Thee in to share it ; to my lips thy name Rose never, so I feared some bitter word Might chide it back within my wounded heart, I 4 CHRISTINA. That shut it in from blame ; but then my prayers Grew dearer to me, for the thought that here. In this pure Presence only, could I meet thee ; Here only to the Merciful could name thee, Could love thee, plead for thee without rebuke. Yes ! even in my sleep my quest went on ; Through dreams I ever tracked thee, following hard Upon thy steps, pursuing thee, and still Before I reached thee (thus it is in dreams) Came somewhat sundering us, and I awoke With tearful eyes, and on my lips half-framed Some loving word, recalling so the past, I thought thou couldst not turn from it away. Yes ! I have loved thee, I, a poor weak woman, One like to thee, yet holding in my heart, That else were dry and barren to all good, One drop of love from out of God's great ocean. And thinkest thou that we can love each other As He loves us, as He that made us loves us ? And sayest thou, ' I am cast out from God '? No ! He hath loved thee from everlasting, Therefore with loving-kindness will He draw thee. Oft doth He chide, yet earnestly remember, Long waiting to be gracious : come, poor child, CHRISTINA. Thy brethren scorn thee, come unto thy Father ! Away from Him, in that far country dwelling, Long hast thou fed upon the husks, too long Hast hungered sore, while no man gave unto thee ; But there, within thy Father's house, is Bread Enough and still to spare, and no upbraiding. My little Child, my Innocent, that scarce Had left His arms, nor angered Him, nor grieved, Was not so welcome back to them as thou : Even now, a great way off, even now He sees thee, And comes to meet thee rise and go to Him ! The home is distant, but the way is nigh. Oh, Thou who, dying, madest us a way, Who, living, for us keepest ever open That access to the Father, look on us ! " So speaking solemn, looking up to heaven, She knelt down where we stood ; upon my knees Beside her drew me ; holding both my hands Firm folded 'twixt her own, she lifted them Towards the Mercy-seat ; within her arms She held me, still supporting me ; it seemed As then the very fountains of her soul Were broken up within her ; so she wept, l6 CHRISTINA. So pleaded : " Jesu, Lamb of God, O Thou, The Father's righteous Son, that takest all The sin of earth away, have mercy on us !" But I was passive in her arms, I knew She wrestled sorely for me ; yet as one That feels in heavy dreams a strife go on, And may not stir a finger, by the chain Of slumber compassed ; so my torpid soul Slept numb, yet conscious, till within my heart, That had no movement of its own, but rose Upon Christina's heart that heaved beneath it, At length this miracle of love was wrought : Her spirit lay on mine, as once of old The Prophet on the little clay-cold child Outstretched, through warmth compelling warmth again, And o'er the chaos of the void within A breath moved lightly, and my soul stretched out Its feelers darkly, as a broken vine Puts forth its bruised tendrils to the sun : A mighty yearning took me, and a sigh Burst from my bosom, cleaving for my soul A way to follow it, and in that hour Methought I could have died, and known no pain CHRISTINA. In parting from the body ; then I cried, " Oh, turn Thou me, and so I shall be turned !" When we arose up from our knees, her face Was calm and happy, then she kissed me, saying, " I call thee not my Sister, as of old, But come with me unto my home, and there Be thou unto me even as a Daughter, In place of her God gave and took again, So hath He given thee to me." Thus she spoke, And drew me on constraining ; but my soul Held other counsel, minded in itself That I would look upon her face no more, Though all my soul clave unto her ; as he From whom our Lord drave out the vexing demon, Had followed fain upon His steps for ever, So had I tarried by her well content ; And yet I answered her, " Entreat me not ; This may not be : yet fear not thou for me ; I go upon my way, that crosses thine Perchance no more j so give me counsel now Upon my journey, for, as thou hast said, The home I seek is far away, the road Is strait and narrow, hard for erring feet c 1-8 CHRISTINA. Like mine to walk in." Then Christina said, " I can but give thee counsel in the words Of Him our Master, ' Go and sin no more !' Keep in the Way, and as thou goest, there A Blessing will o'ertake thee ; thou shalt meet With One to pour within thy wounds the wine And oil of consolation ; He will set thee On His own steed, and bring thee to an inn Where thou mayst tarry till He comes again ; Yea ! all thou spendest more He will account for, For thou wert purchased and redeemed of old : Now must I leave thee, for the night wears on." But still I held her closer, " Not before I too have blessed thee, even I, Christina ; May now the blessing of a soul well-nigh To perishing be on thee ! may thy love Be poured, a thousandfold by God requited, Within thy bosom." Then Christina turned Once more beneath the lamp, and smiled farewell, Smiled as if then the sweetness of her soul Rose to her very lips and overflowed them, But spoke not : passing swiftly through the porch, The darkness took her from me. CHRISTINA. 19 That same night I left the guilty city far behind me ; Thou knowest, Father, of my life since then. Here have I found the place Christina spoke of, A goodly inn, where they have cared for me, These gracious souls, who loving so their Lord, And covetous for Him, upon the coin Long-lost, defaced, and soiled, could trace His image And read His superscription, half outworn. Soon must I leave it for a surer refuge. I sent Christina long ago a token, To tell her it was well with me, and now Fain would I send this other one, a sign From Him that loved me in the heavens, to her That loved so true on earth. When I am gone, Kind Father, to my rest, take thou this cross, Take it to her that I have told thee of Unto Christina. 1851. GOD'S SINGER. T T E bore a harp within his hand, And on his breast outspread The flower, that from the dawn to dusk, For love of one o'erhead, Still follows on a look, till all Its golden leaves are shed : Ye had not called him grave or gay, For old nor yet for young Ye had not known him ; so he seemed To be them all in one ; And only in his smile ye knew The Singer ere he sung. " A Name, a Name is in my heart, It bideth, hidden long, GOD'S SINGER. Because my hand hath not a chord That would not do it wrong ; So pure is it, so sweet, unmeet For rounding of a song, Yet in the cleft, its honey left Hath made my spirit strong. " A thought, a thought is in my heart Though seldom on the string ; I keep it, round all other thoughts Its sweetnesses to fling : Yea ! were it not within my soul, Methinks I could not sing, Nor ever raise my voice in praise Of any other thing." So sang he sweet, so sang he clear, and lift his look above, They said that listened, " Now he thinks of her, his ladye love ;" But through the wood, where in the calm of summer's noon hung still And motionless each little leaf, there ran a sudden thrill 22 GOD'S SINGER. He stood within a Castle's keep, A Castle that could wear, Stern looming o'er its rocky steep, As dark a frown as Care. Yet now it smiled, as one beguiled Of ruggedness through sleep, So sweet a sunshine on from tower To tower did flash and leap, And all the summer's noon did swoon About it, breathing deep. On coigne and gurgoyle little heads In carven stone did seem To wink and peep, as they did creep From out some evil dream ; And over each, on leaf and scroll, Strange words were writ, that seemed to flit Within each mask, and be to it Interpreter of soul : ".Sang i&ot, gang 3L0f, gang JFoi:" and there, Above the gate a time-gnawed wreath And legend mouldered half away, Spoke fair to passer underneath : GOD'S SINGER. 23 fEntres tiansle <}jateau toes tolices, et fate ce que A fountain warbled, more it seemed In weariness than play \ The birds sang loud, but not as in The forest depths sing they ; Yet ringing clear above them all, Up rose the minstrel's lay, As freshly shook as when the brook Sang with him on his way. The soft air lifted it on high, Through pleasant bower and hall, And ladies o'er the balcony Leant, holden in its thrall It floated in above the din That rose within the Court, The grey-beards paused above the cup, The gallants 'mid their sport ; " Ha ! " spake the Baron, " bring him in, The merry Jongleur ! to the strings The wine* will move, and dance within Our beakers while he sings." 24 GOD'S SINGER. As came the minstrel in the hall, He bore him high and free, Yet lowly bowed, as one long vowed To gentle courtesy. Then o'er his harp, with thought to claim A silence ere he sung, He passed his hand, as if to tame Each bounding chord that sprung Beneath it ; as a loving heart, Now fretted, and now wrung, Must rise and fall unto the thrall That over it is flung \ Then soft and low, as is the flow Of waters, to whose drip A child hath danced, his finger fine From string to string did slip, Till, gathered in a sudden shower, The spray-drops glanced and flew As light as when, 'mid thick-wove boughs, The sunbeams trickle through. And then, with firmer, bolder touch, he struck a deeper strain, And high amid the cloven hills, by thunder rift in twain, GOD'S SINGER. 25 The swollen torrents leapt and sprang, and down the flashing rain Poured in through ghastly rents, while swift, from giant hand to hand, Like arrows torn from fiery sheaf, the lightning's jagged brand, Flung careless on from peak to peak, lit up the startled land j And then a swell, a rush as of broad rivers in their flow, Ran through it, and the forest shook with rustlings light, and low Smooth-sweeping winds, till underneath, you heard the grasses grow. And as the stormy waves withdrew, Disparting here and there, The flood rolled backward, and to view The mountain summits bare Pierced upwards, till a world swept out Green, jubilant, and fair ; Then clear the singer's voice arose Upon the freshened air. 26 GOD'S SINGER. He sang an old and simple tale, A sad and earnest song, Of things most frail that did prevail, Of weakest things made strong ; Of tender Truth, that did not fail For time or change, and long, Long suffered, rather than to give Content to suffer wrong ; A song that hath been ofttimes sung, A tale that hath been told Since first this world of ours was young, Nor with it groweth old ; While human eyes keep tears to weep, And hearts have love to hold For friend or lover under sun, Or underneath the mould. The matron on her Dais high, That held her place of pride, Turned, with a trouble in her eye, Her stately head aside ; For through the music little feet Went moving, and the child That One who loveth souls took back, GOD'S SINGER. 27 Unaltered, unbeguiled, With sweet voice small did seem to call Upon her name, and smiled. The Gallant drew his plumed cap Across his brow, and sighed; A hand was clasped within his own, A step was by his side ; A soft low voice he seemed to meet, Each whispered tone he knew ; None since had ever been so sweet, Nor any since so true, For like a child, unto the hill Whence springs the rainbow, driven, His mind on many a glittering quest Since then had toiled and striven, Yet never had he touched again The point where Earth meets Heaven. The grey-haired Seneschal, that leant Upon his staff apart, Felt somewhat trembling on his lip, And tightening round his heart, A ruined shrine, that had not seen Its angels all depart ; ?8 GOD'S SINGER. For now he felt his mother's kiss Upon his cheek, and heard, Oh ! sound approved from lips beloved, Her fond and praiseful word. And as each aged fibre shook, And trembled to the strain, He heard the cawing of the rook, He was a boy again ! With glad feet plashing in the brook That wimpled onwards, fain Its shining boundary to trace, And clip his little world within Too small a space to leave a place For sorrow and for sin. And through each heart a pang shot strong, And on it darkly bore A sense of somewhat that had long Been lost, unmissed before ; But now, to reach a guiding Hand, The Spirit groped and felt Across the void, and for the land It yearned where once it dwelt ; It longed to knit some broken troth, GOD'S SINGER. 29 And then, as if it knew All good below is but the show And shadow of the true, Each thirsted sore to claim once more His birthright, and renew A higher 'legiance, whence the soul Had lapsed and fallen through. And there was Silence, such as falls On one that, musing lone, At midnight on a city's walls, Sees moonlight round him thrown, So heavenly fair, ere he is 'ware His inner sense hath grown More pure, and may not well endure To think on Pain and Sin, On all that shines so fair without That lurks so foul within Our mortal state, and ill can wait Those clearer Heights to win, Where never goodly thing goes out, Nor evil cometh in ! At length the Baron broke the spell : " Sir Minstrel ! sorry cheer, 30 GOD'S SINGER. For all thou playest deft and well, Methinks thou bringest here : So now that ye have made us grave, Your penance I will choose, To troll us out a joyous stave, As merry Trouveurs use, A song of jest and gaillardise To wreathe about the cup, That, while we drain it, ladies' eyes May glisten from it up." " Fain is my harp," the minstrel spake, " To bring you joy and ease, Yet would it break if I should take A strain on it like these : Its only skill is such to wake As may my Master please." " Thy Master ! " then the Baron smiled A scornful smile and proud, " I did not deem ye brethren free To other service vowed Than flowing of the Malvoisie And largesse clinking loud." " Yea," said the Minstrel, " I am free, GOD'S SINGER. 31 And yet a Lord is mine, A Service that is liberty, A Master who is Thine ! " Then sprang the Baron from his seat ; " A priest without the frock ! Now bind him, varlets, hands and feet, And fling him down the rock ; For I have sworn, no hireling shorn Among their tribe should cross My threshold, but have cause to mourn His boldness to his loss." " They bar against Thy priest the gate, Thy Singer passeth free, So hold me ever consecrate Thy Witness still to be." Thus, looking up, the minstrel spake, And, turning, went his way From out them all, and none did seek To hinder him or stay ; And as he passed beneath the gate, A bird was singing free, And from the chapel in the wood Rose vespers solemnly ; 32 * GOD'S SINGER. And as upon the air serene His song ascended calm, Methought it filled the space between The Carol and the Psalm ! A STORY OF OLDEN TIME. CO spake the gentle Lady Maude : " He loves me not ! He said, ' Nay, wed me unto whom ye list, Now Margaret is dead ; But dearer than the reddest rose In bride-bower blushing brave, Is the little daisy flower that grows Upon my true love's grave ; And on my lips the kiss I took So cold from hers will cling, For marriage-bell, for priest and book, For spousal troth and ring ; So if in kiss of loveless lip, In clasp of loveless hand, D 34 A STORY OF OLDEN TIME. There lie a spell old feud to quell, And quench strife's smouldering brand ; If loveless bonds can fetter hate, Be then this bridal sped : Yet in an evil fate ye mate The Living with the Dead.' " So spake the Lady Maude, and fast her tears fell down like rain : " Ten long ten silent years my breast hath striven with this pain, And flung it off awhile, then ta'en the weary load again ; Ten years ten years that I have lived the noble Guilbert's wife, Have crept uncheered by look of love, unmarked by word of strife ; Within the house an honoured dame, a lady unre- proved, Within the heart a slighted wife, a woman unbeloved ! Long, long ago I thought this woe would cease, or I should prove How patient grief wins quietness, how patient love wins love ; A STORY OF OLDEN TIME. 35 Long, long ago I thought this woe would cease, or I should be Love-lifted up to happy life, death-gathered to the free. The smile of love, the smile of death, oh ! wondrous sweet they be, The brethren's and the father's kiss, and neither were for me. " The brethren's and the father's love ! O Father, having Thine, And can we seek aught else for joy, or in our sadness pine To rest on one another's breast ! O Father, can it be That we can need each other still? each other, having Thee ? Yet even so hast Thou been pleased to weave us in one woof, To bind us in one golden sheaf, that none may stand aloof From these sweet sacred bands, and say, 'In having One above So have I all;' that none may scorn his human brother's love 36 A STORY OF OLDEN TIME. That Thou art mindful of; and thus, since Thou hast loved us, none That loves Thee best may ever rest in loving Thee alone ! " So spake she calmer : " He who made best knoweth how we feel, So dare I show Him of the thoughts that never I unseal To human ear, in very fear lest censure should lie cold With our dead fathers in their graves, heaped o'er them with the mould, Or follow on my living lord ; nay, rather let this blame Be mine that dared to give him more than he hath cared to claim. And yet small blame, for who e'er lived with him that loved him not ? And never sign or word of mine hath wearied him, I wot, For from the first my heart its lot accepted, under- stood ; I saw that of the things he had he gave me what he could. A STORY OF OL'DEN TIME. 37 No lady in the Marches sees, for pleasure or for state, So fair a train of servitors upon her bidding wait ; I never lacked for page in bower, for minstrel in the hall, For gentle merlin on my wrist, or palfrey in the stall, Robe, gaud, and gem, each costly gift that on love's altar lies, Were mine, but never with them that which only sanctifies ; And he perhaps who gave them all did never guess or know (For loving hearts run fast, and eyes unloving read them slow) That I had cast them from me fain, so might I but have found The greeting that he gave to serf, the look he gave his hound, The smile and largess he flung down unto a vassal old, Fain had I gathered up the one and doubled him the gold. " I am not fair as Margaret was ; yet faces have grown bright 38 A STORY OF OLDEN TIME. That nature made not so, methinks, when seen by household light ; And in the heart a mirror set hath shown them forth approved In every look; not only they, the lovely are the loved ! For never hath my name been borne on tilt or tour- ney's din, Nor minstrel ta'en it, for his song a sweeter praise to win; Yet children, leaving brighter dames, have run in haste to press Their rosy cheeks against my own, yes, children ! they could bless With unsought tenderness. Methinks a child upon my knee Had been a pleader winning love both for itself and me; A child's soft touch, perchance, had stirred the springs of feeling so, That even to my lips had risen its strong, calm over- flow; Yes, even so, yet well I know these thoughts but bring unrest, A STORY OF OLDEN TIME. 39 They strive, but may not better that by God marked out for best, For me the best; for every path, the sunlit and the dim, The flower-strown as the thorny Way alike have led to Him j Yet finding Love's sweet fountain closed, it even thus befell That searching farther on I found Life's clear up. springing Well." So spake she fervent : " I have learned by knocking at heaven's gate The meaning of one golden word that shines above it, 'WAIT!' For with the Master whom to serve is not to ride or run, But only to abide His will, ' WELL WAITED is WELL DONE.' So waiting, on my heart sweet words, like fragments of a song Down floated from a happy place, have whispered, ' Not for long.' So be it ; yet before I go, if I might but require 40 A STORY OF OLDEN TIME. One boon, if God would answer me in this my heart's desire, Then would I ask, through toil, through pain, through death itself, to see My husband's eyes, before mine close, look once with love on me. Then with this arrow that hath long through strength of pain upborne The breast that hid it, would my soul be gently, gently drawn Forth by a loving hand, that so my spirit as it passed Might breathe out slow and soft and low ' At last, at last, at last!'" SECOND PART. All night beneath a double weight, and followed by a track Of fire that flashed along the dark, the steed, with ears laid back As if he heard a cry behind, and was aware that death Or life was laid upon his speed, bore on with deep- drawn breath, A STORY OF OLDEN TIME. 41 And nostrils quivering wide, until at length the stars withdrawn Had melted out into the dusk that comes before the dawn. Then cheerly to his steed outspoke the rider of the twain That bore the nobler, knightlier mien, and slackened girth and rein : " Three rivers hast thou set between the foemen and our flight ; Now softly, gallant Roland, now, for soon by this good light, Slow breaking pale o'er moor and dale, above the eastern hill, Soon shall I see my castle rise: art weary, or art chill, Thou gentle youth, that tremblest so? Nay, only with the cold I ween, for thou approved hast been for steadfast and for bold. Small speech has passed between us yet, small guer- don hast thou shared Of thanks as yet for all that thou for me hast done and dared ; 42 A STORY OF OLDEN TIME. But One shall thank thee, for I wot that on my lady's 'hest (A gentle lady, true and kind !) thou earnest on this quest. Yet tell me now, where foundest thou the strength, and where the skill To win at me, to set me free, so young, so tender still?" Then answered, faint and low, the Page, as one that strives to speak In spite of very feebleness, " Thou seest I am weak ; So took I twain for counsellors that have been held from old More strong than any under heaven, and one of them was Gold." Long thoughtful paused the Knight, but not above the Page's word, That fell perchance upon his ear (so deep he mused) unheard. Then spake he : " When at first I heard thy sweet, low-warbled song, That night by night came floating light around my dungeon strong, A STORY OF OLDEN TIME. 43 Now far and faint, as if it woke and died among the stars, Now nearer, like a friend's kind voice beneath my prison bars, I thought some spirit of the blest watched o'er me from above, And mourned for me, itself set free from all of earth but Love." But sudden spake the Page, and clenched his hand, " To thee it seemed That Love dwells only with the Dead ; yet have the living deemed That they could also love, I ween." No further word he said, But ever fainter came his breath, and lower sank his head. " Now rest on me, thou gentle youth, for thou art sorely spent; So lean thy head upon my breast ;" and ever as they went Still firmer round his drooping form Lord Guilbert did enfold His stalwart arm, and strove to wrap and shield him from the cold, 44 A STORY OF OLDEN TIME. And whispered oft, "How farest thou?" and still the answer fell As from a soul that moaned in sleep, " Yea, with me it is well." So fared they on in* silence, till at length, as clearer broke A glimmer on the hill's dusk edge, the boy, as one that woke, Half roused from heavy dreams, spake slow : " This dawn to me breaks dim ; I pray thee lift me off from steed ere yet my senses swim, And bear me to the little well that springs beneath the hill, Thou knowest it?" But then the Knight spake soothingly and still, " A little, little space, dear youth, yet bear thee up, be strong ; My gentle lady waits for us." " Nay, she hath waited long, So may she tarry yet awhile. Oh, bear me to the place Where now I hear the waters flow; I ask it of thy grace!" A STORY OF OLDEN TIME. 45 Then kind, as one with feebleness that will contend no more, The good Knight lifted him from steed, and tenderly him bore, Light as an infant in his arms, and passive as the dead, Adown the grassy woodland path, with firm and cautious tread; And after them a sunbeam slid, a glitter struck all through The dell, thrid deep with gossamers and films be- sprent with dew ; On swift and silent sped the Knight, yet at each step he trod He startled up the happy things beloved of Sleep and God, And through the rustling grass and leaves a hum, a twitter broke, As if the Soul within them hid half stirred before it woke. So gliding swift 'twixt heavy boughs that, stooping, seemed to sign With wet, cool finger on their brows a benison divine, They gained a rocky, moss-grown stair ; and where the fountain sprung, 46 A STORY OF OLDEN TIME. One moment as above its deep dark mirror Guilbert hung, He saw each wild-wood flower and fern that grew around the place, And looking upward from its depths a white and deathly face ! There smiled she on him in the light that never yet was cast By earthly dawn. " Thou knowest me ! thou knowest me, at last!" But all his soul grew wild ; from lips as pale as were her own, He murmured, " Blind as ever blind, that only now have known Death, death ! " But with a quiet mien she spake, " Not death, but life, The winning of a long-sought boon, the ending of a strife ; " And laid her head upon his breast, like one that, wearied sore, Sighs deep, yet well content to know the struggle comes no more. He looked at her, he smote his hands together with a cry, A STORY OF OLDEN TIME. 47 " True heart and sweet, that hast not spared for one like me to die, O live for me!" "Yea, would I fain, for what is death to prove What life bears feeble witness to the steadfast strength of love ! " So spake she tenderly : " yet One above shall choose for me, That chooseth best, for each is blest, to live, to die, for thee ! " " Oh, come unto thy place at last ! " and to his heart, smit through With love and anguish, Guilbert then the dying woman drew; Two human hearts that Life had held apart with severance keen, Together met and mingled fast with only Death be- tween. At length she raised a calm, glad face, and looking upward, drew A long, deep, blissful breath again again for now she knew The token ; it was Pain and Life together that with- drew. A STORY OF OLDEN TIME. The sun brake solemn. " There," she spake, " I see the golden gate, But not the word that shone for me so long above it, 'WAIT!' Now with this sprinkling on my soul, this Baptism, I go Where evermore from shore to shore the blissful waters flow; I see them flash in sudden light, I hear them as they roll, The billows of the flood wherewith our God makes glad the soul; There, by that river of delight, on goodly branches grow All fruits of pleasantness and peace, we failed to find below ; All blossoms withered in our heat, or blighted by our frost ; All things we missed and did not mourn ; all things we loved and lost : There, O my husband ! there this love of mine, that was not given To bless thee on the earth, will bide, stored up for thee in heaven!" SEEKING. " A ND where, and among what pleasant places Have ye been, that ye come again With your laps so full of flowers, and your faces Like buds blown fresh after rain?" " We have been," said the children speaking In their gladness, as the birds chime, All together " we have been seeking For the Fairies of olden time ; For we thought they are only hidden, They would never surely go From this green earth all unbidden, And the children that love them so ; Though they come not around us leaping, As they did when They and the World 50 SEEKING. Were young, we shall find them sleeping Within some broad leaf curled ; For the lily its white doors closes But only over the bee ; And we looked through the summer roses, Leaf by leaf, so carefully ; But we thought, rolled up we shall find them Among mosses old and dry ; From gossamer threads that bind them They will start like the butterfly, All winged : so we went forth seeking, Yet still they have kept unseen ; Though we think our feet have been keeping The track where they have been, For we saw where their dance went flying O'er the pastures snowy white, Their seats and their tables lying O'erthrown in their sudden flight. And they, too, have had their losses, For we found the goblets white And red in the old spiked mosses, That they drank from overnight ; And in the pale horn of the woodbine Was some wine left, clear and bright : SEEKING. 51 But we found," said the children, speaking More quickly, " so many things, That we soon forgot we were seeking ; Forgot all the Fairy rings, Forgot all the stories olden That we hear round the fire at night, Of their gifts and their favours golden, The sunshine was so bright ; And the flowers we found so many, That it almost made us grieve To think there were some, sweet as any, That we were forced to leave ; As we left, by the brook-side lying, The balls of drifted foam, And brought (after all our trying) These Guelder roses home." " Then, oh !" I heard one speaking Beside me soft and low, " I have been, like the blessed children seeking, Still seeking, to and fro ; Yet not, like them, for the Fairies, They might pass unmourned away For me, that had looked on angels, On angels that would not stay ; 52 SEEKING. No ! not though in haste before them I spread all my heart's best cheer, And made love my banner o'er them, If it might but keep them here ; They stayed but awhile to rest them ; Long, long before its close, From my feast, though I mourned and prest them. The radiant guests arose ; And their flitting wings struck sadness And silence ; never more Hath my soul won back the gladness That was its own before. No ; I mourned not for the Fairies When I had seen hopes decay That were sweet unto my spirit So long ; I said, * If they, That through shade and sunny weather Have twined about my heart, Should fade, we must go together, For we can never part ! ' But my care was not availing, I found their sweetness gone ; I saw their bright tints paling ; They died ; yet I lived on. SEEKING. 53 " Yet seeking, ever seeking, Like the children, I have won A guerdon all undreamt of When first my quest begun. And my thoughts come back like wanderers, Out-wearied, to my breast ; What they sought for long they found not, Yet was the Unsought best. For I sought not out for crosses, I did not seek for pain ; Yet I find the heart's sore losses Were the spirit's surest gain." THE KISS. " She died young !" " 1 think not so ; her infelicity Seemed to have years too many." WEBSTER. COME to thee from one Thou knowest of, I bear to thee her kiss: " No bitter words," she said, " when I am gone Give thou, but only this." I The mouth was well-nigh cold I took it from, yet hath it power to bless : The lips that sent it never moved of old Except in tenderness ; THE KISS. 55 And ere they ceased to stir They trembled, as if then they strove to frame A word, the only one 'twixt heaven and her, Methought it was thy name. They wore unto the last A calm, sad, twilight smile, from patience won ; Her face had light on it that was not cast From joy's long-sunken sun. She waited for a word Of Love to stay on ; Hope did long endure ; She waited long on Time, for she had heard His spells, though slow, were sure. She waited ; but her stroke Was heavier than her groaning ; one by one All failed her ; Grief was strongest, so it broke Each thing it leaned upon. She waited long on God, And He forsook not ; through the gloomy vale She leant upon His staff, until His rod Brake forth in blossoms pale. 56 THE KISS. Then did her spirit bless The gracious token ; then she saw the rife Salt-crusted standing pools of bitterness Spring up to. wells of life. And Peace, a friend for years Estranged, stood by her on her dying bed : See that thou weep not o'er her grave, her tears Have long ago been shed. She grieves not for the mould : A heavier load lay long upon her breast Than Earth, which hath been to her far more cold In waking than in rest ! WHEN THE NIGHT AND MORNING MEET. T N the dark and narrow street, Into a world of woe, Where the tread of many feet Went trampling to and fro, A child was born speak low ! When the night and morning meet Full seventy summers back Was this ; so long ago, The feet that wore the track Are lying straight and low ; Yet hath there been no lack Of passers to and fro. WHEN THE NIGHT AND MORNING MEET. Within the narrow street This childhood ever played ; Beyond the narrow street This manhood never strayed ; This age sat still and prayed Anear the trampling feet. The tread of ceaseless feet Flowed through his life, unstirred By waters' fall, or fleet Wind music, or the bird Of morn ; these sounds are sweet, But they were still unheard. Within the narrow street I stood beside a bed, I held a dying head When the night and morning meet ; And every word was sweet, Though few the words we said. And as we talked, dawn drew To day, the world was fair Tn fields afar, I knew ; WHEN THE NIGHT AND MORNING MEET. 59 Yet spoke not to him there Of how the grasses grew, Besprent with dewdrops rare. We spoke not of the sun, Nor of this green earth fair ; This soul, whose day was done, Had never claimed its share In these, and yet its rare Rich heritage had won. From the dark and narrow street. Into a world of love A child was born, speak low, Speak reverent, for we know Not how they speak above, When the night and morning meet. THE SOUL'S PARTING. C HE sat within Life's Banquet Hall at noon, When word was brought unto her secretly, " The Master cometh onwards quickly ; soon Across the Threshold He will call for thee." Then she rose up to meet Him at the Door, But turning, courteous, made a farewell brief To those that sat around. From Care and Grief She parted first : " Companions sworn and true Have ye been ever to me, but for Friends I knew ye not till later, and did miss Much solace through that error ; let this kiss, Late known and prized, be taken for amends ; Thou, too, kind, constant Patience, with thy slow, Sweet counsels aiding me ; I did not know THE SOUL'S PARTING. 6l That ye were angels, until ye displayed Your wings for flight ; now bless me ! " but they said, " We blest thee long ago." Then turning unto twain That stood together, tenderly and oft She kissed them on their foreheads, whispering soft, " Now must we part ; yet leave me not before Ye see me enter safe within the Door ; Kind bosom-comforters, that by my side The darkest hour found ever closest bide, A dark hour waits me, ere for evermore Night with its heaviness be overpast ; Stay with me till I cross the Threshold o'er." So Faith and Hope stayed by her till the last. But giving both her hands To one that stood the nearest, " Thou and I May pass together ; for the holy bands God knits on earth are never loosed on high. Long have I walked with Thee ; thy name arose E'en in my sleep, and sweeter than the close Of music was thy voice ; for thou wert sent To lead me homewards from my banishment 62 THE SOUL'S PARTING. By devious ways, and never hath my heart Swerved from Thee, though our hands were wrung apart By spirits sworn to sever us ; above Soon shall I look upon Thee as Thou art." So she crossed o'er with Love. November izth, 1851. RECONCILIATION. " But when in the other world love meets love, it will not be like Joseph and his brethren, who lay upon one another's necks weeping : it will be loving and rejoicing, not loving and sorrowing." Baxter's "Saints' Ever- lasting' Rest." waking hours write bitter things Against us on Life's wall ; But Sleep her small soft finger brings, And draws it through them all. Oh ! sweet her kiss on tired eyes, More sweet to make amends Her child- kiss on the soul that lies, And sayeth, " Come, be friends ! " One is there I have loved so long And deep, I know not when I loved her not with Love too strong To change its now to then; 64 RECONCILIATION. But Love had been with Love at war, And bitter words had been, And silence bitterer by far Had come our souls between ; But now she came to me in sleep, Her eyes were on my soul : Kind eyes ! they said, " And didst thou weep, And / did not console ? Look up, and be no longer sad !" She called me by my name : Our spirits rushed together, glad And swift as flame to flame ; And all the sweetness from my life Crushed out, and all the bloom That wasted through those years of strife, And faded on their gloom, Came back together : as of old She clasped me, then I knew (And spoke not, stirred not), fold by fold Our hearts together grew : Then said I, as in whisper soft, " We two have died, and this Is joy that saints have told of oft, The meeting and the kiss." RECOGNITION. 65 Such bliss, forgiving and forgiven, Ran through me while I slept, To find the ties that Earth had riven Above were sacred kept ; And yet I knew it was not Heaven, Because I wept ! GONE. A LONE, at midnight as he knelt, his spirit was aware Of somewhat falling in between the silence and the prayer, A bell's dull clangour that hath sped so far, it faints and dies So soon as it hath reached the ear whereto its errand lies ; And as he rose up from his knees, his spirit was aware Of Somewhat, forceful and unseen, that sought to hold him there; GONE. 67 As of a Form that stood behind, and on his shoulders prest Both hands to stay his rising up, and Somewhat in his breast, In accents clearer far than words, spake, " Pray yet longer, pray, For one that ever prayed for thee, this night hath passed away; " A soul, that climbing hour by hour the silver-shining stair That leads to God's great treasure-house, grew covet- ous ; and there " Was stored no blessing and no boon, for thee she did not claim, (So lowly, yet importunate !) and ever with thy name "She linked that none in earth or heaven might hinder it or stay One Other Name, so strong, that thine hath never missed its way. 68 GONE. " This very night within my arms this gracious soul I bore Within the Gate, where many a prayer of hers had gone before ; " And where she resteth, evermore one constant song they raise, Of ' Holy, holy,' so that now I know not if she prays ; " But for the voice of Praise in Heaven, a voice of Prayer hath gone From Earth ; thy name upriseth now no more ; pray on, pray on !" HAUNTED GROUND. It is the soul that sees.' HP HE rest have wandered on Stay thou with me, dear friend, awhile, awhile The air is full of voices, leading on, As o'er enchanted isle. This ground is writ all o'er With the soul's history ; I may not choose, Spell-bound, but pause above this living lore To linger and to muse. We give of what we take From life of outward things ; our spirits leave, Where they have been, a glory in their wake More bright than they receive. 70 HAUNTED GROUND. And this was once my Home : The leaves, light rustling o'er me, whisper clear " The sun but shines on thee where thou dost roam, It jftti&f upon thee here."* And these are of the things That God hath taken from me, safe to keep : Sometimes, to let me look on them, He brings Them to me in my sleep ; And I have been in sleep So oft among them, now their aspect seems The vague soft glow evanishing, to keep, Of half-remembered dreams. Thou shouldst have been with me Of old, dear friend, as now ! and borne a part In all that was, then Life were filled with thee As wholly as the Heart ! Then hadst thou won mine eyes My soul to look through ; half it angers me To think a sweetness on the years can rise That is not mixed with thee ! * The idea that the sun shines on us in absence, but smiles on us at home, is borrowed from a German Song. HAUNTED GROUND. 71 Yet stoop with me to trace These olden records, overrun with bloom ; The Dead are underneath, and yet the place Looks hardly like a tomb. This is the wood-walk ; oft I feel a clasp detaining, not the fold Of clinging bindweed, far more close and soft ; For here in days of old, My earliest friend with me Walked hand in hand ; we sat long hours upon This bank ; and I am on the earth, but she Had wings, and she is gone. See ! see ! the ancient hall With sunset on it ! Now the windows flame In evening light they flash and glitter all And one looks still the same As when my mother kept Upon me, while I played, an eye of love ; Since then, it oft has watched me while I wept, Still watching, from above! 72 HAUNTED GROUND. As then she used to smile, And softly stroke my head ; so now my heart These gentle memories stroke and soothe awhile, Awhile we will not part Kind shadows ! from the door, At noon-day with a joyous shout flung wide, I see the merry children rush, before Its welcome stroke had died. The old domestic, grey And bowed with weight of many years, whose look And grave kind smile still followed on the way Our flying footsteps took ; Such wealth was his in store Of loving words, when fain he would be stern, And chide our rovings, all his speech the more To tenderness would turn ! As twilight brings a face Drawn faint, yet perfect, on the darkening wall ; So on me rise the spirits of each place, Yet bring not gloom withal. HAUNTED GROUND. 73 Heaven's wasted wealth, the gold It gave for treasure slighted, and ungraced ; Earth's kindly seeds of love on soil too cold, Let darkly run to waste, That needed but our care To bloom for ever round the heart serene ; These, these the forms of evil things that were, Of good that might have been, Time gathers silently, Yet from their ashes troubling phantoms sends More stern than these of happy hours gone by, Than these of buried friends ; More sad than these that smile And whisper, " Now thou comest as a guest Where once thou dwelt, yet mourn not thou the while, Because thou hast been blest ! " POETS. /~^VNE spake to a Poet, "And whence hast thou won The key to the melodies vagrant that run And throb along Nature's strong pulse, like a strain That haunts us by snatches, yet doth not attain, Save in thee, to completeness : The wind-song, the bird-song, the song of the leaves, The heart-song which breathes through them all, and receives E'en in giving them sweetness ? " Then he answered, " From God, who to each at His will From His fulness gives somewhat the yearning to still Of the soul, that as yet He designs not to fill ; POETS. 75 For He would not that any should tax Him and say, * Thou gavest me nought as I went by the way To joy in and bless Thee.' " And His gifts are all blessed ; He giveth to some Rich boons ; they are happy, and so they are dumb, There was Silence in Heaven ; And the strength and the loving, to gaze on each thing That they have not, with joy in its beauty, and sing, To some He hath given. These sit in their gladness, all robed and all crowned, As guests at Life's banquet, while swift circles around Life's rosy joy-bringer : But a banquet needs music, so these in the cold Stand singing without ; though his harp be of gold, Wilt thou envy the singer ? For one (was it one then ?) went forth from the crowd, A warrior, chosen, and faithful, and vowed ; Sore-wounded, they found him With a bright-blazoned banner wrapt round him, and prest To his bosom, to stanch its deep death-hurt ; none guessed 76 POETS. That his life-blood welled over it darkly, so proud Was the purple that bound him. Ye sit by the hearth in the cold, bright spring weather, At evening, and hear the birds chiming together ; And ye say, " Happy singers ! " forgetting the trees Are leafless, and keen winds hold back beyond the seas The swallow, blithe comer ; Yet Summer is coming for us as for these, A long Summer. A COMPARISON. *~PHERE is no Winter in the soul of Man ; Its clime is Tropical, a giant tree In stately Southern forests blowing free And broad, it stands where equal Summer sways All seasons, and as one swift joy decays, Another pushes forth a fan-like frond Or succulent leaf dark-shining far beyond Before it falls ; and wing-like thoughts have sown Their seeds all round about its roots, and thrown A veil of living blooms from bough to bough, Leaf, flower, and tendril twining, so that now Most vain it were to track each home, or guess Whence springs this weight and wealth of loveliness ; While e'en its cloven bark, a sheath and shroud Of splendour, blossoms o'er, so fancies crowd 78 A COMPARISON. Within the soul, so mounting swift and high Up to that tree's tall summit, suddenly Spring in one night efflorescent, bright hopes, That drop again to earth like flowery ropes Let down from Heaven by angels' hands ; yet there Stand forth, 'mid all that fulness, gaunt and bare, Like matted cordage, withered coils that fruit, Or flower, or leaf, bear never, for the root From whence they drew earth's kindly juice is gone ; And these are hopes that die, yet still cling on ! THE ETERNAL NOW. " For one day with Thee is as a thousand years, and a thousand years as one day." ; JVT OW have I won a marvel and a Truth ; " So spake the soul and trembled, " dread and ruth Together mixed, a sweet and bitter core Closed in one rind ; for I did sin of yore, But this (so said I oft) was long ago ; So put it from me far away, but, lo ! With Thee is neither After nor Before, O Lord, and clear within the noon-light set Of one illimitable Present, yet Thou lookest on my fault as it were now. So will I mourn and humble me ; yet Thou 8o THE ETERNAL NOW. Art not as man, that oft forgives a wrong Because he half forgets it, Time being strong To wear the crimson of guilt's stain away ; For Thou, forgiving, dost so in the Day That shows it clearest, in the boundless Sea Of Mercy and Atonement, utterly Casting our pardoned trespasses behind, No more remembered, or to come in mind ; Set wide from us as East from West away : So now this bitter turns to solace kind ; And I will comfort me that once of old A deadly sorrow struck me, and its cold Runs through me still ; but this was long ago. My grief is dull through age, and friends outworn, And wearied comforters, have long forborne To sit and weep beside me : Lord, yet Thou Dost look upon my pang as it were now ! " CONSOLATION. "They have healed also the hurt of the daughter of pay people slightly, saying, Peace, peace ; when there is no peace. ... Is there no balm in Gilead? is there no physician there?" JER. viii. n, 22. "YT'EA t trouble springs not from the ground, yet must it ever be, Man knows that he is born to care, so seeks his remedy ; And he hath found out store of charms and spells to give it rest, Yet grief turns from human comforters, the Highest is the best ! One saith, " Be comforted, for grief is idle and is vain, It never hath brought back the smile to Joy's dead face again, G 82 CONSOLATION. It only fixes there the look it wore when Hope took leave ;" " Yes, grief is vain, I know it well, and therefore will I grieve." One saith, " Be comforted, for thus how many say with dawn, ' Would God that it were eve ! ' at eve, ' Would God that it were morn ! ' ' But then more noble in its woe spake out the grieving heart, " Nay ! rather would I all were blest, and bear alone my smart." "And yet," saith one, "be comforted, for grieving is a sin ; Thy tears may* stain Heaven's goodly floors, yet there be trodden in ; This is a grief that Heaven hath sent, a grief that thou must bear," And Patience smiled so cold, so cold, I took her for Despair ! * Malachi ii. 13. CONSOLATION. 83 Yet these were simple reasoners ; I said, " I will arise, I will seek out counsel from the sage and wisdom from the wise ; They shall show me of their merchandise who trade for hidden things, Who go down to the heart's great deep to track its secret springs. Then with calm brow, one answered me in measured tones and brief, That we are stronger through our pain, and nobler for our grief, And when I looked on him, I saw he spoke what he believed, And I talked no more of grief to him who ne'er him- self had grieved, Or he had known that spoke of Will, how vain its strong control When Deep is calling unto Deep within the wave-tost soul; Yea ! happy are they that endure ! yet never was the tide Of nature's agony stemmed back by high, o'ermaster- ing Pride ; CONSOLATION. But then with kindlier mien, one said, " Go forth unto the fields, For there, and in the woods, are balms that nature freely yields : Let Nature take thee to her heart ! she hath a boun- teous breast, That yearns o'er all her sorrowing sons, and She will give thee rest." But Nature on the spirit-sick as on the spirit-free Smiled, like a fair unloving face, too bright for sym- pathy ; Sweet, ever sweet, are whispering leaves, are waters in their flow, But never on them breathed a tone to comfort human woe ! Small solace for the deer that hath the arrow in its side, And only seeks the woods to die, that o'er his dappled hide Spread purple blooms of bedded heath, and ferny branchings tall, A deadly hurt must have strong cure, or it hath none at all ; CONSOLATION. 85 And the old warfare from within that had gone on so long, The wasting of the inner strife, the sting of outward wrong, Went with me o'er the breezy hill, went with me up the glade, I found not God among the trees, and yet I was afraid ! I mused, and fire that smouldered long within my breast brake free; I said, " O God, Thy works are good, and yet they are not THEE ; Still greater to the sense is that which breathes through every part, Still sweeter to the heart than all is He who made the heart! I will seek Thee, not Thine, O Lord ! for (now I mind me) still Thou sendest us for soothing not to fountain, nor to hill; Yet is there comfort in the fields if we walk in them with Thee, 86 CONSOLATION. Who saidest, "Come, ye burdened ones, ye weary, unto ME." Yet is there comfort, not in Pride that spends its strength in vain, But in casting all our care on Thee on Thee who wilt sustain; Not in dull Patience, saying, " This I bear, for it must be," But in knowing that howe'er Grief comes, it comes to us from Thee ! Thou, Lord ! who teachest how to pray, O teach us how to grieve ! For Thou hast learned the task we find so hard, yet may not leave ; For Thou hast grown acquaint with Grief Thou knowest what we feel, Thou smitest and Thou bindest up, we look to THEE to heal ! PENCIL-MARKS IN A BOOK OF DEVOTION. "It happened one day, about noon, I was exceedingly surprised with the print of a man's naked foot on the shore, which was very plain to be seen in the sand." C TRONG words are these, " O 'Lord, I seek but Thee Not Thine ! I ask not comfort, ask not rest ; Give what, and how, and when thou wilt to me I bless Thee.: take all back and be Thou blest." Sweet words are these, " O Lord ! it is Thy love And not Thy gifts I seek ; yet am as one That loveth so I prize the least above All other worth or sweetness under sun." PENCIL-MARKS. And all these lines are underscored, and here And there a tear hath been and left its stain, The only record, haply, of a tear Long wiped from eyes no more to weep again ; And as I gaze, a solemn joy comes o'er me, By these deep footprints I can surely guess Some pilgrim by the road that lies before me Hath crossed, long time ago, the wilderness. With feet oft bruised among its sharp flints, duly He turned aside to gather simples here, And lay up cordials for his faintness truly Now will I track his steps and be of cheer. And wearied, by this wayside fountain's brink He sat to rest, and as it then befell, The stone was rolled away, he stooped to drink The waters springing up from life's clear well. And oft upon his journey faring sadly He communed with this Teacher from on high, And meeting words of promise, meekly, gladly, Went on his way rejoicing so will I ! "FAINT, YET PURSUING." A SONG OF THE CHURCH MILITANT. A LL day among the corn-fields of the plain, Reaping a mighty harvest to the Lord, Our hands have bound the sheaves ; we come again, Shout for the garners stored ! All day among the vineyards of the field, Our feet have trodden out the red ripe vine : Sing ! sing for hearts that have not spared to yield A yet more purple wine ! All day against the spoilers of our land, Our arms made bare the keen and glittering sword ; None turned back, none stayed the lifted hand, Sing ! sing unto the Lord ! 90 "FAINT, YET PURSUING." All day beset by spies, begirt with foes, Building a house of holiness; by night We watched beside our weapons ; slow it rose, Sing ! sing from Zion's height ! ENTREAT FOR ME. TO E. F. 1C* NTREAT for me, for thou hast ever stayed Within the Father's house ; thine eyes serene Have followed on Him there, while I have strayed, And in far distant lands a wanderer been. Thou needest not to seek Him, and arise To go to Him, for on thy lip and brow The shadow of a blest communing lies, That tells, dear friend, that thou art with Him now. " Son, thou art ever with me," robe and ring, The greeting tear, the reconciling kiss, Were for the Prodigal's return ; each thing I have is thine," oh, blest enough in this 92 ENTREAT FOR ME. Art thou, that freely from the Father's store Mayst take at will of all His goods increase For thy heart's solace ; mine that hungered sore Hath still to crave for pardon, still for peace. I would not dare an earthly wish to speak ; Yet is there this one boon : I come to thee Because I am not bold enough, I seek A messenger approved, entreat for me ! So wayward children, through a dearer child, Would win some wished-for favour, pleading thus, " Go to our Father, thou art good and mild, Less often hast thou grieved him, ask for us ! " A VISION OF GREEN LEAVES. T^HE time was Winter, Winter or the Spring That comes with tardy footstep, lingering Like some reluctant Giver, yielding cold The boons that it no longer may withhold ; And ere I slept, I listened to the rain Dashed by the fitful wind against the pane, The wind, that even through my sleep did seem To break upon the music of my dream, With pause of change and dreariness, and still Swelled, sighed, and moaned each varying scene to fill With trouble and unrest ; at length outworn I slept within my sleep, and to the Morn (Still in my dream) awoke, with vacant eye Forth from the casement gazing listlessly, 94 A VISION OF GREEN LEAVES. When sudden I exclaimed, "A miracle ! A Summer come at once, without a Spring To herald it ! a bright awakening To life and loveliness," for all around Were leaves, green bursting leaves, and on the ground Was short grass springing thick, and through the wave The dark flag cut its swift way like a glaive ; And broad as Orient growths, upon the pool, Large, juicy leaves lay mantling, smooth and cool : I saw no flowers, no fruit, but everywhere Leaves, only leaves, that filled the summer air With murmurs, soft as whispers that the heart Hath longed and listened for : while light and low, As chidings fall from lips that turn their flow To gentleness, quick rustlings waved apart The boughs, and fragrance soothed the sense like thought Too sweet for utterance ; e'en then I caught The Dream's full import: "Tis the Spring's warm sigh," Methought, " that calls forth all this luxury Of leaf and greenness ; thus, upon the heart A word, a look will bid a Summer start, A Summer come at once, without a Spring A VISION OF GREEN LEAVES. 95 To herald it, a sudden wakening ; " Then from the bands of sleep my spirit broke, And with the sweetness on my soul I woke, And it was Winter still ! but in my heart Was Summer ! Summer that would not depart, But breathed across its silence, low and light, Like those sweet forest-rustlings of the night ; It was a dream of Hope ! and sent by Her My Lady bright, because I minister Unto her honour, while I strive to sing And praise her with my Lyre's most silver string ; It was a dream of Hope ; I know the hue Of her fresh mantle, and her symbol true, The leaf ! she cannot give the flower or fruit, But sends their promise by a herald mute ; The leaf, that comes like one in haste to bring The first of all some gladsome welcoming, And cannot speak for joy, but with the hand Still points and beckons to the coming band ; I know the symbol, and I bind the sign Upon my heart to make it doubly thine, Thou Bringer of sweet dreams by day and night, Still will I sing and praise Thee, Lady bright ! $6 A VISION OF GREEN LEAVES. And I will gather of these leaves, to twine A chaplet for those sunny brows of thine ; And by thy smiling Thou wilt keep its sheen, In Winter as in Summer fresh and green ! TO A LONG PARTED FRIEND. comest back unto me like a ghost \ * And all the years that have been buried long In silence, at thy aspect, crowd and throng Each portal of my mind a Phantom host. Now we will commune with that cloud-like train Awhile, then send them to their rest again ; For all their forms are pale and colourless ; Not from their full Joy-vintage could we press The wealth of this day's gleanings ! nay, the woes That we have known since then have nobler shows, And all their " more " sounds feebler than our " less. We parted in the blossom and the bud, Now in the bloom-time of Life's perfect Rose We meet ; and though it may not yet unclose H 98 TO A LONG-PARTED FRIEND. Each petal, for that earth lies ever cold About its roots, and in their conflict rude, Rough, biting winds have bowed its head, and strewed Some leaves upon the ground ; yet hath it won From shower and shining, from the moulds and sun, Deep colours, odours richer than of old ! The rocks that lock the Vale's monotony In quiet, once our mutual vision spanned ; Since then by distant pathways, painfully We have been climbing both, now hand-in-hand Together on the steep ascent we stand, And see the spot where then we parted lie Beneath us like a speck now through the haze, Disparting for a moment, we will gaze Down on the Alpine hamlet, till we hear Its songs and sheepfold tinklings rising clear, Then lift an upward heaven-aspiring eye Together, ere our tracks break suddenly, And we go onwards through the cloud and mist Alone, yet cheerful ! on the Hill, dear Friend, Ere evening-light its cold white brow hath kissed, Tingeing its snows with rose and amethyst, Once more those far-diverging lines may blend ! "SO IT HAPPENS." FROM THE GERMAN OF EMANUEL GEIBEL. " T T E loves thee not," so spake they to her cold ; " He trifles with thee ; " then she bowed her head, And down her cheeks, like dew from roses, rolled The tears fast welling at each word they said ; Oh ! why did she believe ? for when he came Her doubtings angered him; a semblance light He held through all, he spoke and smiled the same, And waited waited to weep through the night ! Still knocked a better angel at her heart, " Yet is he true, give, give thy hand again ; " "SO IT HAPPENS." Still felt he, through that bitterness and smart, " She loves thee yet, she loves thee now as then ; Speak but one word, hear but one greeting kind, So is the spell that lies betwixt you broken." Once more they met ; oh ! Pride is harsh and blind, That word, that only word remained unspoken. So parted they, and as within the choir Of some great Minster, wanes the altar-light To duller red, then flashes fitful fire All quivering restless, then sinks down in night ; So love died in them, long and sore bewept, Called back again with yearnings vain, at last Forgotten, till within each heart it slept, With old illusions faded and o'erpast. Yet oft-times started they, when moonlight streamed, Up from their pillows that were wet with tears, And wet with tears each face, for they had dreamed I know not what ; then thought they of the years, The old, the lovely time that once had been, And of their idle doubts, their broken troth, And all that now was set their souls between, So wide, so wide O God, forgive them both ! THE PICTURE AND THE SCROLL. " Oh, mes amis ! lisez-vous quelquefois mes vers ; mon ame y est empreinte. 5 A BRIDE looked long upon her picture : " Thou Art left among the things I held most dear, A dearer love is calling me ; yet now These to my heart have never been so near ; And I shall not be by when they are gay ; They will be sad, and I shall be away ; Yet Thou wilt look upon them night and day, As once I looked, so now I leave upon Thy silent lips a kiss to bide alway ; Smile on them, smile on them when I am gone ! " A Singer looked in silence on a scroll, Her eyes were dark with eloquent fire, her soul 102 THE PICTURE AND THE SCROLL. Smiled through them bride-like, yet the hand was cold That locked her slender palm within its hold, And set the spousal wreath upon her brow ; She said, " I go from all that has been dear, For dearer love is calling me ; yet now These to my heart have never been so near, So will I leave my kiss this scroll upon, That they may find it, while I whisper clear, 1 Smile on them, smile on them when I am gone ! ' " TO A YOUNG GIRL. HPWELVE years before thee through life I must run, Dearest ! oh, would I might counsel the hours, Saying, " Keep back your best sunshine for one That is coming behind me, and spare her the showers ! " Fain would I stop to remove from thy way Stones that have bruised me, and thorns that have grieved ; Set up my errors for waymarks, to say, Here I was wounded, ensnared, or deceived ! 104 TO A YOUNG GIRL. Vain is my wishing ! in lines of our own We must traverse the pathway marked out from above ; Life is a sorrowful teacher, alone We must learn its deep lessons, unaided by love. Yet where I journey waste places among, I will scatter a seed by the wayside, and say, Soft to myself as I hasten along, " It may be a flower when she cometh this way ; " Yet will I leave thee some token, that there, Just where the path looks most nigged and dim, It haply may cheer thee, in meeting with Care, To know that thy friend walked before thee with him! So for thy loving and trusting and truth, Gentle acquittance in part it may be ; Thou who hast shrined me an image of Youth, Brighter than ever my youth was to me ! February A SONG OF MEMORY. TT ERE it was I saw her last : When the farewells all were said, Through the garden speeding fast, She o'ertook me breathless, led By some gentle after-thought, That she spoke not yet, but smiled As I stooped to set me free From a wild-briar clinging, " See, This kind weed to stay thee sought, Yet wilt thou break from it and me ; " Then she clasped me, smiling still Through the shining of a tear, " Come and go, dear friend, at will, Comfort still thou leavest here ; 106 A SONG OF MEMORY. Should the future days bereave, Never with a chiding sore Can the bygone bid us grieve That we loved not in them more ! " So we parted where we stood In the ancient gateway ; then As I hurried down the wood, Once I turned to look again Where she stood, in life and bloom, With the summer sunshine kind Streaming round her, in the gloom Of the massive arch enshrined : To her feet the shadows crept From the grey and ruined stone, And her form from out them swept Like an Apparition thrown On the sunny air, the light Smote her forehead, even now Bides that vision in my sight With the halo on its brow ! Even so, within my heart, Ever young and fond and fair, A SONG OF MEMORY. 107 Stands she in her shrine, apart From the ruins round her there ; Glides her image through its gloom In a quiet track of light, As within a darkened room Soft a straggling sunbeam falls On the ceiling, on the walls, Finding nothing else so bright ! Dark the castle stands above, Dark the river onward floweth, Murmuring as one that knoweth Somewhat of my grief and love. Nay ! the river nothing knoweth, Ever floweth, ever speedeth, Nothing heedeth as it floweth, Of all my heart hath missed and needeth ; Murmur, murmur, still unknowing, Murmur, murmur, in thy flowing, None the less will fond believing Link thy chiding with my grieving. Since we walked beside thy stream, Oft 'mid summer musings lost 108 A SONG OF MEMORY. I have dreamed a deeper dream ; She a deeper stream hath crossed, Crossed it singing ! once of old Dark and swift that river flowed Sunless, to an unknown sea ; And the nations shivering stood On the margin of the flood, Sorely pressed behind, before Lay a dim and doubtful shore ; Till a Helper, at the cry Of a world in agony, With a garment dipped in blood, Smote the waters as He passed On a glorious errand ; fast Hither, thither, backwards drew All the sullen waves, and through Came His ransomed ! King and Priest, Sage and warrior, virgin mild, And the Slave from bonds released, And the mother with her child, From the greatest to the least, Crossed it singing ! but to me, As I watched that company, A SONG OF MEMORY. Strong and beautiful and bold Seemed they all, and I was weak, And the river still was cold, And the country far to seek ! But since Thou didst leave my side, Following after, with my tear Still upon thy cheek undried, Seems the river far less wide, And the hither shore more near : Ever more that shore was dear For the sake of one unseen, So He shows me it more clear By the light of what had been; For like lichen on the stone, Ever round each well-known thing Still this heart of mine hath grown, Firm to fix and close to cling : So God beckons by a Hand I have clasped, unto His land ; So He bids its Dawn arise On me, through beloved eyes; So the new, unearthly song Seems a strain remembered long ; IIO A SONG OF MEMORY. With the angel voices blend Tones familiar, seraphs wear Looks I loved on earth ; oh, friend, Kind companion, Thou art there ! TO JOSEPHINE. AN APOLOGY. THOUGHT of Shakspere saying long ago, That forms were but devised to set a gloss On hollow welcomes, making up the loss Of kindness, with their faint, unreal show, When Thou to give me greeting didst upraise Thy gracious head, bowed ever lowly down As if thou didst incline to meet thy crown Of Blessing, and of Favour and of Praise ; Then looking for the first time in Thine eyes, My soul rushed up to thine, and did disclaim All set approaches, swift to recognize Its kindred and I called thee by thy name ! THE MARRIAGE OF TRUE MINDS.* Endure and dare, true heart, through Patience joined With boldness come we at a crown enriched With thousand blessings.' From the Spanish of Argensolas . I. AGNES AT HER WINDOW. TV/T Y window looks upon a dead blank wall, Yet flowers that grow beyond are kind, and send, As friend might soothingly to prisoned friend, Their kisses blown upon the wind, to call * The annals of the heart are rich and various, extending over a wide region, yet it would be hard, among all its written or traditionary wealth, to find a sweeter true-love story than that contained in the lyrical autobiography of Vieira^ the Lusitanian, THE MARRIAGE OF TRUE MINDS. 1X3 A summer round me in my cell, where all Breathes of the rose and jessamine that blend ; And struggling o'er, yet more to make amend, A Vine hath run, and on my side let fall Some leaves and tendrils, chequering the dull stone With verdurous gloom; e'en like such gracious bough Hast thou, O Love ! thy goodly branches thrown O'er our Life's drearness ; grieved and hated Thou By this world's archers, yet Thou dost abide In strength, firm rooted on the other side ! the famous painter and faithful hitsband. This poem, which was given to the world at the age of eighty-one, three years before the author's death, is so remarkable in all respects, as to have been considered by Southey the best book Portugal has to boast of. It is full of extraordinary incident, and celebrates the passion which, beginning before either of the lovers was eight years old, forms, in its mutual strength and constancy, at once the marvel and the glory of the two lives it bound together. See on this subject an article in Blaclywood" 1 s Magazine for March, 1851, " The Fine Arts in Portugal" 114 THE MARRIAGE OF TRUE MINDS. II. THE SERENADE. Last night, as Thou thy wonted round didst make, Beloved watcher, sore I chid the wind, When citron scents were wooing it, to take Thy sweetness from me, leaving theirs behind ! For ever, though my very soul did wake To catch that broken music, tenderness Was fain to fill its pauses with a guess ! And " Oh, my prisoned jewel"* (so I strove To bind these links, the breezes' envious dole In one), thou calledst me " thy star, thy dove, Thy rose, thy angel, treasure of thy soul ! " These words came fitfully, the strain passed by ; Then from these scattered fragments Love and I Sat down to frame one bright mosaic whole ! * ' ' Tesouro imprisonado. " THE MARRIAGE OF TRUE MINDS. 115 Thou callest me thy Rose ! O that indeed I were A white rose dewy fair, Or ruby-red that glows On India's fervid air ; For then would I enclose My fragrance shut within thy heart, and dwell As lives the flower's quick spirit in the cell It floods with sweetness, sweetness never knowing Loss for the bounty of its overflowing ! Thou callest me thy Pearl ! O that indeed I were A bright pearl gleaming fair, A white pearl in its quivering lustre, yet Faint-shining like a tear, a tear that met With comfort ere it fell, and trembling hung Awhile, all round and glistening, where it sprung ; Then would I fall and lie, Beloved, in thy cup dissolving slow At Life's great banquet, and thou shouldst not know What gave thy wine the tinge of ecstasy ! O that indeed I were A star, a jewel rare, Il6 THE MARRIAGE OF TRUE MINDS. A soft snow-plumaged dove, An Angel from above ; Thou sayest, " These are mine," And hast but one poor heart ; yet love, Love on, and all are thine ! THE MARRIAGE OF TRUE MINDS. III. AGNES AMONG THE SISTERS. I sit among the sisters moments make Their way to hours as slowly, day by day Creeps lagging on, -as if before them lay Some evil Thing they feared to overtake ; Our fingers move together swift, but slow And few the words that fall, like drops that ooze From springs that in the desert long ago The drifting sands sucked in ; full oft I choose To hearken if some echo subterrain Tells where life's hidden streams in darkness yet Flow on ; but all is silent, and again I look and see each face before me set, A dial-plate with mosses long o'ergrown, And finger that still duly round the stone Moves on to point to nothing ; then I thank My own, if it from theirs hath caught this blank Impenetrable aspect, and so lies IlS THE MARRIAGE OF TRUE MINDS, A scroll outspread, yet locking from their eyes (Though writ within, without) the precious lore They would but shrink from ; yet my heart runs o'er With pity and with love, for these were made For noble creatures, that within the shade Kept by man's fraud, and cheated of their right In the Great Father's heritage of light And warmth, have shrunk to mildewed forms like these ; So will they die, methinks, and never know What life was made of, till they pass above To sun themselves for ever in the Love Whose blessed reflex they have missed below. And in the stillness oft my fancies please To frame similitudes, as like a pall This silence wraps our spirits, one and all ; Yet theirs, methinks, is Polar silence froze Unto the centre ; snows piled up on snows 'Mid icy seas where glimmer to the moon Cold shapeless forms, and wrecks that to and fro Drift aimless on ; but like a Torrid noon Is mine, begirt with stillness like to death, Where large-leaved flowers upon the burning air THE MARRIAGE OF TRUE MINDS. 1 19 Hang motionless, and drink its fiery breath ; And every beast lies couched within its lair, And bird with folded wing ; yet listen ! there A pulse beats audibly, a murmur rife Above, beneath, this sultry hush profound Is quickening on the sense, and at a sound Will flash and kindle, all instinct with Life ! 120 THE MARRIAGE OF TRUE MINDS. IV. And oft upon me is the fancy borne (Wild wish, whose wayward longing doth but prove How this poor heart, with anxious throbbings worn, Hath need of rest from all things, e'en from love !) To cross those icy barriers that wreathe Betwixt these sisters' souls and mine ; to see How it fares with them on the heights, and breathe The cold, clear air of their serenity ; For thought o'er-peoples all this life of mine, So would I leave it for one moment, free From hope, fear, rapture, yea, Beloved, from THEE. One moment ! could I thus indeed resign A fraction of my troubled wealth, my bliss So dearly won ? I trow not ! and in this I seem like some proud courtier bowed and bent With weight of honours, that beside his road Sees nested 'mid thick leaves some low abode ; " There," sighs he, " there is peace and calm content," Yet would he deem its quiet banishment ! WITHOUT AND WITHIN. /^~\NCE spake a grey-haired poet: A noble thing and good, To strike a heat adown the chain of our great brother- hood ; To send the blazing torch of truth from eager hand to hand, To bid thought's swift electric wire vibrate from land to land. To nurse a generous seed that in the mind hath taken root, Then waft it forth on kindlier soil to come to nobler fruit, By fire-lit hearth, in love-lit heart, a heritage to claim ; 122 WITHOUT AND WITHIN. This have men called an idle breath, the vanity of Fame! But as to champing steed the noise of battle from afar, That bids him paw the ground, and neigh to trumpet- sound, Ha, ha ! Is Fame to poet-soul, and mine hath shared among the rest ; Yet was the praise of earliest days the sweetest and the best ! And it is with me now as when with keen, ambitious breast, At school I struggled with my mates, and ever fore- most pressed ; Yet knew not what I won the worth or sweetness of my prize, Till I took it home, and read them both within my mother's eyes ! My mother ! She to whom I read my earliest rude essays, Who pinned my verses in her gown, and on her household ways, WITHOUT AND WITHIN. 123 As she kept moving, to herself she said them over soft ; I had a True-love afterwards that read them not so oft! And He, the kind old bachelor, whose heart had been for one Too much, and so he shared it out with all beneath the sun, I see his broad and honest brow, the sparkle in his eye (A steadfast fire undimmed by age), I hear his slow reply. The patientest of anglers he, and I the quietest Of dreamy boys, true comrades we, he chose me from the rest ; Content to saunter by his side in silence through the day, Through coppice and by stream, the while my thoughts were far away, Perhaps with Crusoe in his isle ; our noonday meal we took 124 WITHOUT AND WITHIN. Beneath an old grey lichened rock that beetled o'er the brook ; Then with our tongues set free at last ! not learning much nor wit Went with our simple fare, but talk as well that sea- soned it. I never hear a chafing , brook, nor see the smooth stones lie Beneath it golden-brown, or mark the mailed dragon- fly Shoot past, but something o'er my soul a summer feeling sends, That brings my good old kinsman back, and all my boyhood's friends. One still is left, the friend that fought my battles out at school ; Now would he fight them with the world, if ever it should cool To verse of mine yes, inch by inch contending : not a line He reads, but takes them all on trust, content that they are mine. WITHOUT AND WITHIN. 125 Now have I made me store of friends, the kindred of my mind j They give unto me of their wealth, I pay them back in kind : The world needs music at its feasts, it bids me wel- come free ; It loves me for the songs I sing, but these loved my songs for me ! And so to such as these my heart flies back, a thing set free ; It craveth more than doth the mind, less cold equality ; Love is the one true leveller below, he bringeth down, He raiseth up, he sets on all his chosen brows a crown : For He hath gold enough, enough of sweetness in his tone To lend an echo unto Fame far deeper than its own ; Its hollow cymbal-sound is gone, and hushed its selfish din, When praising from Without is met by loving from Within. MADANA. THE invisible Madana (or Kama), the Hindu Cupid, is armed with a bow of Sugar-cane, strung with bees, and five arrows, each tipped with a flower exercising a peculiar and distinct influence on the heart ; among these, one alone of fatal and unerring flight is headed, and the head covered with honey- comb. O UMMER ! Summer ! soft around, With a hushed and dream-like sound, From a beating heart that knows Too much rapture for repose, Breathless, tremulous, arise Murmurs ; thick mysterious sighs ; Whispers, faintly wandering by, Breathe a warning out and die ; Lightly o'er the bending grass, Changeful gleams and shadows pass ; MADANA. 127 Through the leaves a conscious thrill Lightly runs, and all is still ; Like the tree* whose branch and stem Flame with many a sudden gem, Blushing in its haste to greet Touch of Beauty's slender feet ; Earth with inner joy opprest, Shaken from her central rest, Through her bursting bloom reveals Hidden ecstasy she feels : Now the rich, unfolding Rose Through its crimson splendour glows ; Jasmine blossoms manifold Shed their stars of paly gold ; On the lake's broad bosom borne, Reddening to the reddening dawn, Flashes many a floating cup Raised to drink the sunbeams up ; Drooping on the heavy air Faint with sweetness that they bear, Now the Mango buds grow pale O'er their passion-breathing tale ; * The red Asoka, supposed to blossom when its stem comes in contact with the foot of a beautiful woman. 128 MADANA. And the Champak's leaves disclose Where, amid their vestal snows, Kindling at deep gleaming eyes Fiery-hearted fragrance lies ; Summer ! Summer ! now the air Trembles MADANA is there ! Watch not for his flitting wing, List not for the bounding string, Floating 'mid the groves to choose Gorgeous blossoms, mingled hues, Viewless as the viewless wind, Weaving spells for heart and mind, Flower-armed, flower-crowned Deity, Light his unseen arrows fly ! Tremble not ! the archer's smile Plays but carelessly the while Summer lightning o'er the sky Flashing, flickering restlessly ; Sporting with the passing hours, He hath winged their flight with flowers ; Gentle witchery and brief, He hath breathed o'er bud and leaf, That hath lent to glance and tone Light and sweetness not their own ; MADANA. 129 And as these shall fade away, Will the pleasant charm decay, Droop, and leave no trace behind Where its clasping tendrils twined, Fading, fleeting, like the sigh Of some wandering melody j Like a blissful dream that flings Light upon the coming day, Like a bird whose gorgeous wings Glitter as it flits away ; So they vanish ! yet the heart, Ere its gentle guests depart, Links a thought for after hours, Summer ! to thy songs and flowers ! Yet beware the hidden power, Mad ana hath yet his hour : These were but the chords that thrill Lightly to a master's will, Tones, his wandering fingers fling Breeze-like from the trembling string, Ere he call forth all the fire, All the passion of the Lyre, K 130 MADANA. Ere he stir through one deep strain All the founts of joy and pain ; One full chord is yet unshaken, One wild note hath yet to waken, One keen arrow yet to fly, Tremble ! Madana is nigh ! O'er the fatal shaft is thrown Sweetness all the archer's own ; For his strength in sweetness lies Sweetness, that through gentle eyes (E'en in gazing half withdrawn) Sheds upon the soul a dawn ; Sweetness lingering in a word, Softly uttered, faintly heard, Yet within the heart to dwell, Treasured deep in many a cell, Long with haunting echoes rife, When the sounds have died to life ; From that subtle arrow's might, Vain is wisdom, vain is flight ! Vain the charmer's boasted spell Mightier charms than his to quell ; Groves of sandal and of balm Yield no soothing, yield no calm, MA'DAXA. 131 Though their odorous branches shed Fragrant tears upon thy head, Vainly o'er thine aching brow Droops the incense-breathing bough, Not the cooling * Lotus leaf Gives to hurt like thine relief ; To thy throbbing temples prest, Bound upon thy burning breast ; Vainly ! still through pulse and vein Glows the dull unceasing pain ; Vainly, vainly ! still the smart Rankles in thy stricken heart. Therefore from the earth a sound, Hushed, and dreamlike, and profound, Gathers warning whispers rise, Murmurs thick, mysterious sighs ! Therefore all the haunted air Trembles Madana is there ! * The flower and leaf of the lotus are used by Hindu writers as the type of all grace and beauty, and they suppose the latter to possess a peculiar efficacy in allaying mental disquietude. VALENTINES AND SONGS. For Lovers' eyes more sharply-sighted be Than other men's, and in dear Love's delight See more than any other eyes can see. But they who love indeed, look otherwise With pure regard and spotless true intent, Drawing out of the object of their eyes A more refined form, which they present Unto their mind void of all blemishment : Which seeing now so inly fair to be As outward it appeareth to the eye, And with the spirit's proportion to agree, Love thereon fixeth all his fantasie, And fully setteth his felicitie, Counting it fairer than it is indeed, And yet indeed its fairness doth exceed ! SPENSER'S Hymn in honour of Beauty. L U I S A. " Just like Love is yonder Rose, Heavenly sweetness round it throws, And in the midst of briars it blows, Just like Love ! " CAMOENS. T STOOD at eve upon the furrowed shore With One, that as the tide its legions filed Unto our feet, stooped down, and o'er and o'er Wrote on the sand that only name, and smiled The stern, self-mocking smile joy owns no more To see the waves efface it. " Far more slow," He said, " are Time's dull waters in their flow To wear away that name where it is writ And graven deep, as with a pointed gem Upon the rock ; yet vain to cancel it All else, so must I leave it unto them ! 136 LUISA. This name, that I in weakness of self-scorn, With idle finger have dishonoured thus, Fair-written once in letters luminous, Was shut and clasped within my heart's great Book For ever, as I deemed ! rude hands have torn Those pages from my life, but Memory Hath kept them, yet for sadness scarce can brook Within that rifled volume now to look, Or shut its golden clasps without a sigh ! THE SUMMER FRIEND. TO C. M. ' It was not in the winter Our loving lot was cast ; It was the time of roses, We plucked them as we passed." HOOD. WES ! ever with the Summer, As flies across the sea The Spring's first blithesome comer, My thoughts fly swift to thee ! For they were wove of sunbeams, The ties that hold us fast ; It was Summer when I saw thee first, And when I saw thee last ! 138 THE SUMMER FRIEND. And short and bright as Summer Our meetings still have been, (Enough, enough of Winter Hath ever come between !) Till with a doubling sweetness Thy smile is now a part Of Summer, Summer on the earth, And Summer in the heart ! Still come, dear friend, in Summer, That I may keep thee twined With all its warm and golden gifts, For ever to my mind ! Yet come, dear friend, in Winter, To prove what half my heart Hath guessed, that it is Summer still, My Summer where THOU art ! February i3, 1851. " QUI SAIT AIMER, SAIT MOURIR." " T BURN my soul away !" So spake the Rose and smiled ; " within my cup All day the sunbeams fall in flame, all day They drink my sweetness up ! " " I sigh my soul away ! " The Lily said ; " all night the moonbeams pale Steal round and round me, whispering in their play An all too tender tale !" " I give my soul away !" The Violet said ; " the West wind wanders on, The North wind comes ; I know not what they say, And yet my soul is gone !" 140 "QUI SAIT AIMER, SAIT MOURIR." Oh, Poet, burn away Thy fervent soul ! fond Lover at the feet Of her thou lovest, sigh ! dear Christian, pray, And let the world be sweet ! THE BROKEN CHAIN, /CAPTIVES, bound in iron bands, Half have learned to love their chain, Slaves have held up ransomed hands, Praying to be slaves again : So doth custom reconcile, Soothing even pain to smile, So a sadness will remain In the breaking of the chain. But if chain were wove of flower, Linked and looped to sister free, With a Name and with an Hour, Running down its Rosary, 142 THE BROKEN CHAIN. Light as gossamers on green, By their shining only seen ; Would not something sad remain In the breaking of the chain ? But if chain were woven shining, Firm as gold and fine as hair, Twisting round the heart and twining, Binding all that centres there In a knot, that like the olden May be cut, yet ne'er unfolden, Would not something sharp remain In the breaking of the chain ? A VALENTINE. T SAID to one I loved, "Why art thou sad?" And he made answer, " There hath been a tune Long floating round my brain; morn, night, and noon, With inarticulate cadence making glad, Yet vexing me, because I could not find Words sweet enough to set to it, and bind Its music round about my heart for aye. Till, musing late above an ancient book, The window being open, breezes fleet Lifted the rare old page, and sudden shook A loose leaf, writ with song, unto my feet : In these quaint words methought lies hid the key To all those cadences faint struggling round, I 4 4 A VALENTINE. Now will I wed them to that melody, And set my life to music by their sound ; E'en so I practised them upon my lute Early and late, yet found they would not suit Together, though so sweet ! and all the strain Broke into discords ! still the strain goes on, But only angers me, its meaning gone ; Nor will I seek to find it words again ! February 13. A VALENTINE. TO C. M. /^\NE said to me, "To-day I go where I perchance may meet thy Friend, What shall I take from thee ? " I answered, " Nay, * Nought have I left to send, " For she hath all of mine Already ! only giving of her store, A little miser ! through her usury fine To draw on mine the more ! " More fit that she send back What she hath won of me ; but it were vain, What once hath been with Her will seek the track, The wonted track, again ! " February 13. "ICH DIEN." OHE spake to him that woman with a brow Most like a Queen's, " With all the sovereignty That I was born to, crown and sceptre, now My soul hath parted ; be thou true to me. Fain had I brought thee all ; but vassal's vow And bended knee were but for One; e'en so, All state I may not share, I would forego ! " " Once dwelt I in a Palace of Delight, A lonely castle on enchanted seas ; Its hundred doors stood open day and night ; My thoughts gold-banded, honey-laden bees, Passed to and fro for traffic ; now all these That I have slighted (like true friends of yore Left for a stranger's smile), return no more. ICH DIEN." 147 " And / may not return to them, or stand Among them as in olden days, when well They stored my treasure-caverns, for my hand Hath lost its wonted gesture ; and the spell, Through murmuring one name this chance befell, That gave those treasure-chambers to the clay, Hath passed, forgotten, from my mind away ! " So let it pass ! it were a thought too bold Within my grasp to keep these empires twain, And living in two Worlds, the New and Old, To serve in one, and in the other reign ! Would now that all mine ancient fair domain, To spirits calm and free I might resign, To take their joy in it, as I in thine ! " Her words were high, yet like proud music shook From straining chords that in their vibrant fall Break over it, her faltering accents took Them all in humbleness ; she did recall No gift for vaunting that had given all For All or Nothing ? pleading mournfully, " I love, I serve, oh, be thou true to me ! " THE BABES IN THE WOOD. A LOVER'S DREAM. CO dreaming sad and true, He deemed he saw two outcast children rove ; Oft had he nursed them fondly, so he knew Their faces Hope and Love ! And ever farther North, Such heavy doom lay on them through some sin And sorrow not their own, they wandered forth, And none did take them in. The wild wind round them strewed Brown whirling leaves, and sighed amid its piny. While ever deeper in the wintry wood Their small feet went astray. THE BABES IN THE WOOD. 149 Yet smiling as they sung Their little songs, they held each other's hand, And cheered each other onwards in a tongue None else might understand. They fed each other kind, For slender food these gentle Babes require, With here and there a berry, left behind On ragged thorn or brier. And closer, as the dew Fell dank, unto each other's side they crept ; And closer, closer to each other drew For warmth, before they slept ; For by some law, these two Together born, together linked for aye, Could only die together ! so they knew What time their hour drew nigh. And oft amid the chill They woke, and listened for each other's breath, And felt a pulse beat feebly ; all was still, And yet it was not Death ! 150 , THE BABES IN THE WOOD. " Still, Brother, thou art warm," They whispered to each other; till its fold Relaxing languidly, each little arm Grew stiff, and both were cold. No pious Robins there Brought leaves, but smitten with a late remorse, A pitying Spirit of the upper air Wept kind above each corse ; And from undying bowers Shook on those Children, buried in the snow, Sweet buds and blossoms of the very flowers They played with long ago ! HOME. T^WO birds within one nest ; Two hearts within one breast ; Two spirits in one fair Firm league of love and prayer, Together bound for aye, together blest. An ear that waits to catch A hand upon the latch ; A step that hastens its sweet rest to win, A world of care without, A world of strife shut out, A world of love shut in. THE SUMMER ROSES. (Imitated from the old German song, " Roschen auf der Haide," in Herder's Collection. ) ~D OSES, roses, summer roses, Shall I pluck you from the thorn ? Shall I leave you there till through you Autumn breezes rustling, strew you On the earth forlorn, Roses, summer roses ? Answered then the summer roses, " He who plucks the rose will find, As his grasp upon it closes, That the thorn is left behind : THE SUMMER ROSES. 153 Through its sharpness still must sweetness Of the rose be brought to mind, Roses, summer roses ! " So I plucked the summer roses, And the cruel thorn I met ; Soon the sweetness of the roses Made me all its wound forget ; But the roses, oh, the roses Bloom and breathe around me yet, Roses, summer roses ! IMITATED FROM THE TROUBADOUR SORDEL. T T ER words, methinks, were cold and few ; We parted coldly ; yet, Quick-turning after that adieu, How kind a glance I met ! A look that was not meant for me, Yet sweeter for surprise, As if her soul took leave to be One moment in her eyes : Now tell me, tell me, gentle friends, Oh, which shall I believe, Her eyes, her eyes that bid me hope, Her words that bid me grieve ? IMITATED FROM THE TROUBADOUR SORDEL. 155 Her words, methinks, were few and cold What matter ! Now I trust, Kind eyes, unto your tale half-told, Ye speak because ye must ! Too oft will heavy laws constrain The lips, compelled to bear A message false ; too often fain To speak but what they dare ; Full oft will words, will smiles betray, But tears are always true ; Looks ever mean the thing they say : Kind eyes, I trust to you ! Her looks were kind oh, gentle eyes, Love trusts you ! Still he sends By you his questions, his replies, He knows you for his friends. Oh, gentle, gentle eyes, by Love So trusted, and so true To Love, ye could not if ye would Deceive, I trust to you ! THE SINGER. From a Provenfal Poem of the Ninth Century. T_T OW thick the grasses spring In May ! how sweetly ring The woods with song of many birds ! the note That is of all most sweet, Most varied, most complete, Comes from a little bird of slender throat, The Nightingale, that sings Through all the night, and flings Upon the wood's dark breast her sweet lament. THE SINGER. 157 What ! little bird, dost seek To conquer with thy beak The lyre's full ringing chords ? be well content : A Minstrel to thy song Long listened, lingering long ; A Prince a moment paused upon his way : " Sweet, sweet ! " they said, and then Passed onwards, while again Broke from the topmost bough thy thrilling lay. What ! thinkest thou to chain The world ? thou dost but strain Thy slender throat, forgetful of its need, Thou carest but to sing : Yet who is found to bring, To stay thy want, a berry or a seed ? They praise thy song, and yet They pass thee, and forget ; Nonefeedeth thee save He who gave thy strain. 158 THE SINGER. Oh ! why wilt thou prolong Thy sweet, thy mournful song, Unwearied, while the world to sleep is fain ! When Summer comes, unstirred Are all the leaves, the bird Is silent, while her callow young are tended. When Winter comes, the leaves Fall off, and no one grieves ; The singer dies, her little song is ended ! November, 1862. FOUR SONGS. Set to Music by the Author. TO L. A. C. , hast thou won my heart, my love ! What gain to thee ? what gain ? It plights thee with no golden ring, It decks thee with no chain ; A simple thing, yet it will bring To thee, my love, no pain ; To give thee rest, to make thee blest It hath been ever fain, my love, It hath been ever fain ! l6o TO L. A. C. Oh, have I won thy heart, my love ? What gain to me ! what gain ! What brooding calm, what soothing balm, What sweet release from pain ! Through sudden rest my spirit guessed What hour to me it came, And day by day I mark its stay Through comfort of the same, my love, Through comfort of the same ! TO MARIA IVANOVNA. T F dark be she I love, or fair, I ask not now ; I do not seek With her the lily to compare, To find the rose upon her cheek. Such flowers as these grow everywhere ; With all things soft, and dusk, and rare I liken her ; the woodbine feels And finds her way with touches light ; She keeps her hold with tendrils slight. How close, how kind the woodbine steals ! The summer air is warm with bliss All stolen from the woodbine's kiss. Sit thou by me when eve has stilled And soothed the day's quick pulse to rest ; M 162 TO MARIA IVANOVNA. Let none be near us while we build Within each other's hearts a nest, Of joys that fade, of youth that flies, Of love that stays, of memories That pass not with the passing day : Sit thou by me ; be sad, be gay, So sweet thy smiles, so sweet thy sighs, So soft thy clasp, so kind thine eyes. Be what thou wilt, 'tis ever best ; Be what thou art, and I am blest ! IF IT BE PLEASANT TO REMEMBER THEE. T F it be pleasant to remember thee, What is it, then, what is it to forget thee ? But for a space, one moment's space to be As though I ne'er had loved, or known, or met thee ? My soaring soul on some high quest to send, On some stern task to bind my strength's endeavour, Then, like the bird, with rapid wing descend Upon the nest that is my own for ever. By some sweet song, by some dear dream to be Upon my lonely way entranced, o'ertaken ; Awhile, awhile to cease to think of thee, Then in the sweetness o thy soul to waken ! 164 IF IT BE PLEASANT TO REMEMBER THEE. Sweet dream, with day pass not away, As once in hours when all my joys were fleeter; Dear haunting lay, I bid thee stay, And in my heart for evermore grow sweeter. If still to bear thee in my mind be sweet, What is it then, what is it then to lose thee ? In play with life to let the moments cheat My steadfast heart that flies again to choose thee ? Afar, I see thee lift thy soul in prayer, I see thee in thy quiet ways abiding ; Oh, sweet to me hath grown the common air, To me, for whom the Rose of life is hiding ! I SPAN BESIDE OUR CABIN DOOR. (Adapted from an ancient Irish Song.) T SPAN beside our cabin door, I watched him slowly cross the moor, I smiled as I will smile no more, Eskadil, mavourneen slawn ! How many an evening as I sat, With father he would come to chat, He came for this, he came for that, Eskadil, mavourneen slawn ! I watched him o'er the moor so wide, He took the path that turned aside I went within the house and cried, Eskadil, mavourneen slawn ! l66 I SPAN BESIDE OUR CABIN DOOR. I saw him pass our cabin door ; The world is wide, he came no more ; I wept as I will weep no more, Eskadil, mavourneen slawn ! I drew my wheel beside the fire, I span as if I span for hire, My father talked, and did not tire, Eskadil, mavourneen slawn ! My heart is weary and my head, And all is done, and all is said, And yet it is not time for bed, Eskadil, mavourneen slawn ! A SONG. (Set to music by Mrs. Tom Taylor.) IS ISS me before I sleep, Oh gentle child, oh loving child ! that so My spirit, ere it sinks within the wide Dim world of shrouded dreams, unsatisfied, And seeking ever, unto Thine may grow, Nor stir, nor move, nor wander to and fro ; Kiss me before I sleep ! Kiss me before I wake, Oh loving child, oh child beloved, that so The sweetness of thy soul, thy smile, thine eyes, May meet my spirit on its way to take The chill from off this life of ours, and make A world more kind and warm wherein to rise ; Kiss me before I wake ! AMID CHANGE, UNCHANGING. E Poet singeth like the bird that sitteth by the rose, While dews are chill, and on the hill the first faint sunbeam glows ; While through the buds' thick-folded green the first red rose-streak shows, Sing, Poet, sing of Hope and Spring, Still sing beside thy rose ! The Poet singeth like the bird that sitteth by the rose, While on the golden summer noon her golden heart o'erflows ; And now she waxeth red, now pale, yet ever is the rose, AMID CHANGE, UNCHANGING. 169 Sing, Poet, sooth of love and youth, Still sing beside thy rose ! The Poet singeth like the bird that sitteth by the rose, When from the drooping stalk her brief sweet glory earthward goes, And the red is kindling on the leaf that fadeth from the rose, Sing, Poet, sing, remembering, Still sing beside thy rose ! ONE FLOWER. " T7AREWELL, my flowers," I said, The sweet Rose as I passed Blushed to its core, its last Warm tear the Lily shed, The Violet hid its head Among its leaves, and sighed. " Oh thou, my flower, my pride, Sweet Summer's sweetest bride, The rest are fair, but dear Art thou, hast thou no tear, What givest thou ? " " The whole," The glowing Pink replied, " Blush, tear, and smile, and sigh I gave In giving thee my soul." ONE FLOWER. " The summer, wandering by, Hath breathed in thee her sigh, Hath wooed thee from the South, With kisses of her mouth ; Hath wooed thee from the West, Hath blest thee with the best Warm blessings of the sun ; And yet a heavy dower Is thine, my joy, my flower, Thy soul hath burst its sheath, Oh, is it love or death, Sweet flower, that thou hast won ? Oh, is it love or death That breathes from this thy breath, That kindles in thine eye ? " Then won I for reply, " / have made sweet mine hour; As dies the flower, I die, I lived as lives the flower." A SCHERZO. (A Shy Person's Wishes.) A I 7ITH the wasp at the innermost heart of a peach, On a sunny wall out of tip-toe reach, With the trout in the darkest summer pool, With the fern-seed clinging behind its cool Smooth frond, in the chink of an aged tree, In the woodbine's horn with the drunken bee, With the mouse in its nest in a furrow old, With the chrysalis wrapt in its gauzy fold ; With things that are hidden, and safe, and bold, With things that are timid, and shy, and free. Wishing to be ; A SCHERZO. 173 With the nut in its shell, with the seed in its pod, With the corn as it sprouts in the kindly clod, Far down where the secret of beauty shows In the bulb of the tulip, before it blows ; With things that are rooted, and firm, and deep, Quiet to lie, and dreamless to sleep ; With things that are chainless, and tameless, and proud, With the fire in the jagged thunder-cloud, With the wind in its sleep, with the wind in its waking, With the drops that go to the rainbow's making, Wishing to be with the light leaves shaking, Or stones on some desolate highway breaking ; Far up on the hills, where no foot surprises The dew as it falls, or the dust as it rises; To be couched with the beast in its torrid lair, Or drifting on ice with the polar bear, With the weaver at work at his quiet loom ; Anywhere, anywhere, out of this room ! RAPTURE. T IGHT at the full of the harvest moon, Heart of the rose in the heart of June, Song of the bird when its song takes wing, Breath of the blossomed furze in spring, Kiss of the angel that comes when dreams Are more sweet than all sweetness that is or seems, Fire in the cloud of the opal burning, Fall of a footstep at eve returning, Clasp of a hand that thrills to the soul, Bliss of a spirit that wins its goal ! A SONG. A LITTLE cloud that hung, my love, So low 'twixt earth and sky, Too sad it seemed for earth, from Heaven Afar, yet ever nigh ; And oft it longed on Earth's warm breast To fall in kindly rain, And oft, on morn or evening's crest To leave a crimson stain ; Yet fell not, rose not, till a bright, Keen arrow pierced it through, All fleecy thin, all milky white, All golden clear it grew ; What could it do but fade, my love, And melt into the blue ? 1 76 A SONG. A little wind that hid, my love, Beside the water's edge, And shook a music unforbid From out the withered sedge, And whistled o'er the dreary moor, And round the barren hill, And sighed at many a fastened door And darkened window-sill, And through the forest whirled and swept, When leaves fall wearily, And o'er the lake's cold bosom crept, And moaned beside the sea, Until between the sea and sky It found a quiet cave, All lined with mosses soft and dry, Afar it heard the sea-bird's cry, Afar the restless wave ; What could it do but die, my love ? What could it do but die ? THE BRIDGE. NOON. A \ 7"E lingered on the rustic bridge, We saw the pebbles in the- stream Below us, clear in amber light Of noonday, flash and gleam ; Afar, the yellow flag-flowers caught A glory from the flitting beam, And all was still and fair, methought. And golden as a dream. Oh, might this hour not pass away ! Oh, were it given to us, not lent ! N 178 THE BRIDGE. And might we, framed within it, stay, A breathing picture of content ! And hear the babbling waters run, And hear the distant stock-dove coo, And dream that in the world were none But only I and you ! A PICTURE. T T was in autumn that I met Her whom I love ; the sunflowers bold Stood up like guards around her set, And all the air with mignonette Was warm within the garden old ; Beside her feet the marigold Glowed star-like, and the sweet-pea sent A sigh to follow as she went Slowly adown the terrace ; there I saw thee, oh my love ! and thou wert fair. She stood in the full noonday, unafraid, As one beloved of sunlight ; for awhile l8o A PICTURE. She leant upon the timeworn balustrade ; The white clematis wooed her, and the clove Hung all its burning heart upon her smile ; And on her cheek arid in her eyes was love ; And on her lips that, like an opening rose, Seemed parting some sweet secret to disclose, The soul of all the summer lingered ; there I saw thee, oh my love ! and thou wert fair. THE SONG OF THE TROUBADOUR PIERRE RAYMOND DE TOULOUSE. " Vergiers, ni flor, ni pratz, No m'an fait cantador, Mas per vos cui ador Domna, m'sui alegratz." T KNOW the woods in spring, I know The voices of the breeze and brook ; I know the little flowers that look With starry eyes upturned, and grow Through all the rapture that the bird Flings down, with quiet hearts unstirred ; The joy above, the calm below, 182 THE SONG OF THE TROUBADOUR. The thrill that passes, and the slow, Sweet stealing silence, these I know. Yet more than these I know ; the light Upon the passing moment thrown, That weights its bliss, yet wings its flight ; The look that makes two hearts alone, Two spirits to each other known, And all the world's wide clamour thrown Afar, afar ! Yes ! all that dies And lives 'twixt loving lips and eyes Is known to me ! and would ye deem I caught this music from the stream ? Ye say my song is sweet ; I know My song is sweet ! Ye call me proud, A careless-hearted singer, slow To gather praises from the crowd. Yet praise me if ye will ! in cold Set phrase, with others standing by. With gracious smile and voice unmoved, One told me once that she approved THE SONG OF THE TROUBADOUR. 183 The strain I sang ; my looks were shy, But from that hour my song grew bold ; I saw her blush, I heard her sigh ; Enough, enough, if so approved ! Oh ! softly as she spoke that word, What songs it woke within my breast ! As when a warm wind from the west Shakes all the summer thicket stirred With breezy rapture and unrest : Of all that gives delight I sing, Of all that lightly comes and goes In bud and bloom and withering Of last year's flowers, of last year's snows; Of many a pleasant tale outworn I sing ! of forest alleys green, And lovers underneath the thorn That met ; of many a maid forlorn, And robber fierce, and wandering queen ; Of knights upon a glorious quest, And lovely ladies, long ago Of each bold heart beloved the best, And near the hearts that loved them, low 184 THE SONG OF THE TROUBADOUR. Long laid and lapped in quiet rest; I sing of banner and of crest, Of lifted lance, of ringing shield ; I sing the tourney's mimic field, In crowded lists the shock, the stir, I sing of her, I sing of her ! And if she loves me for my songs, Or if she loves my songs for me, I ask not ! idle question wrongs Love's soul, from such vain surmise free. If first the Bulbul sings, who knows, Or first unfolds the crimson rose ? The sweet bird sings, the sweet flower blows. She loves, she loves my songs and me ! SONNETS. ASCENDING. '"T'HEY who from mountain peaks have gazed upon The wide illimitable heavens, have said, That still receding as they climbed, outspread, The blue vault deepens over them, and one By one drawn farther back, each starry sun Shoots down a feebler splendour overhead. So, Saviour ! as our mounting spirits, led Along Faith's living way to Thee, have won A nearer access, up the difficult track Still pressing, on that rarer atmosphere, When low beneath us flits the cloudy rack, We see Thee drawn within a widening sphere Of glory, from us farther, farther back, Yet is it then because we are more near. LIFE TAPESTRY. nrOO long have I, methought, with tearful eye Pored o'er this tangled work of mine, and mused Above each stitch awry, and thread confused ; Now will I think on what in years gone by I heard of them that weave rare tapestry At Royal looms, and how they constant use To work on the rough side, and still peruse The pictured pattern set above them high : So will I set MY COPY high above, And gaze and gaze till on my spirit grows Its gracious impress ; till some line of love Transferred upon my canvas, faintly glows ; Nor look too much on warp or woof, provide He whom I work for sees their fairer side ! LOVE BIRDS IN A POLYTECHNIC EXHIBITION. "For likely hearts composed of stars concent Are these whom Heaven did at the first ordain And made out of one mould the more t' agree ; Love have they harboured since their first descent Out of their heavenly bowers, where they did see And know each other here beloved to be." SPENSER. TV /T INE eyes, 'mid all these wonders may not choose, But fix on ye, meek pair, so closely prest For warmth against each other, breast to breast, Till all their green and golden couplets fuse, And run in one the many-mingling hues, Whereon your heads lie, drooped and sunk in rest, With eyes half closed, yet straying never, lest Their gaze its one accustomed object lose ; LOVE BIRDS. Now do ye mind me of two spirits, cast On life, 'mid all its strangeness new and old, That having found each other out at last, No longer rove, but mutually enfold Soft plume with plume that blends and mingles fast, The while they keep each other from the cold ! TO A REMEMBERED STREAM, AND A NEVER FORGOTTEN FRIEND. OWEET stream, the haunt of solitary hern And shy kingfisher, far from busy town Or even populous hamlet, winding down Through banks thick fringed with underwood and fern And hazel thickets, where the ripe nuts turn Unmarked and slow to Autumn's ruddy brown ; Where gems thy single rock its feathery crown (For nought of thine looks ever sad or stem !) With berried scarlet of the mountain ash ; I never hear 'mid waking dreams thy dash Above the pebbles, but I think on One Whose course of days hath by thy waters run, A course like thine of calm and quietness, Nor ever raised a voice except to bless ! TO ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING IN 1851. T LOSE myself within thy mind from room To goodly room thou leadest me, and still Dost show me of thy glory more, until My soul like Sheba's Queen faints, overcome, And all my spirit dies within me, numb, Sucked in by thine, a larger star, at will ; And hasting like thy bee, my hive to fill, I " swoon for very joy " amid thy bloom ; Till not like that poor bird (as poets feign) That tried against the Lutanist's her skill, Crowding her thick precipitate notes, until Her weak heart brake above the contest vain Did not thy strength a nobler thought instil, I feel as if I ne'er could sing again ! TO ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING IN 1861. T PRAISED thee not while living ; what to thee Was praise of mine ? I mourned thee not when dead; I only loved thee, love thee ! oh thou fled Fair spirit, free at last where all are free, I only love thee, bless thee, that to me For ever thou hast made the rose more red, More sweet each word by olden singers said In sadness, or by children in their glee ; Once, only once in life I heard thee speak, Once, only once I kissed thee on the cheek, And met thy kiss and blessing ; scarce I knew Thy smile, I only loved thee, only grew Through wealth, through strength of thine, less poor, less weak ; Oh what hath death with souls like thine to do ? A MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM. TO D. E. L. HTOO full our hearts of sorrowful delight, Of parting converse, that one night, I ween, For dream of Midsummer or Fairies' Queen ; As Thou sat'st near me, half in shade, half light, The moonbeams touched thy forehead cold and white, And Thou didst speak in moonlight ! so serene And soothing were thy words, and all thy mien, Transparent as thy soul ! when swift and bright (So did our talk the short-lived night beguile) The sun broke in to bid us make an end With his beginning ! Since that hour, dear friend. I never think on Thee, so calm the while Yet cheerful, but the sweetness seems to blend Of moonlight and of sunlight in thy smile ! RESERVE. "M" OW would I learn thee like some noble task That payeth well for labour ; I would find Thy soul's true Dominant, and thus unwind Its deeper, rarer harmonies, that ask Interpreting ; for like a gracious mask Is thy calm, quiet bearing ; far behind Thy spirit sits and smiles in sunshine kind, And fain within that fulness mine would bask : Set if thou wilt this bar betwixt thy tide Of feeling and the world that might misknow Its strength ; use ever with the crowd this pride, " Thus far, and yet no farther shall ye go ;" But not with me, dear friend, whose heart stands wide To drink in all thy Being's overflow. DREAMS. " ~p\OST thou believe in dreams?" I asked my Friend ; But then he answered quickly, " Would that I Could learn that gentle Faith ! to certainty Turn all that Hope dares faintly apprehend ! Then would Life's richest colours meet and blend Together, fused as in a Tropic sky That hath no clouds ; then Life would utterly For all its wrongful doings make amend ; For Life hath brought me partings, but in Rest Are only meetings ! for the waking hours Have trampled in their flight upon my flowers ; But Sleep's kind hand still gathers them again From bowers remote, and binds them on my breast, I dare not stir for fear to break their chain ! " February 13. THE SOUL'S WOOERS. T IKE Captive Judah, underneath the Tree She sat alone and silent on the ground ; While from the valley rising, came the sound Of music and of dancing, gay and free, But none did bid her to that company ; Till lifting up her heavy lids, she found One standing by her, winged, and rosy crowned, And robed within the purple : " Rise, for thee (He said, and kissed her on the brow elate) The Ruler of the Feast hath kept till now The richest wine;" but as she marvelled, drew Another near, that whispered to her, " Wait \ Not of this vintage shalt thou taste till thou Shalt drink it with Me in My Kingdom new." HOPE. V\rHEN I do think on thee, sweet Hope, and how Thou followest on our steps, a coaxing child, Oft chidden hence, yet quickly reconciled, Still turning on us a glad, beaming brow, And red, ripe lips for kisses : even now Thou mindest me of Him, the Ruler mild, Who led God's chosen people through the wild, And bore with wayward murmurers, meek as thou That bringest waters from the Rock, with bread Of angels strewing Earth for us ! like Him Thy force abates not, nor thine eye grows dim ; But still with milk and honey-droppings fed, Thou leadest to the Promised Country fair, Though thou, like Moses, mayst not enter there! TO A FRIEND. , call me but thy Friend ! Seek thou no other word when thou wouldst pour Thy soul in mine ; for this unto the core Of Love doth pierce, and in it comprehend All secrets of its lore ! Yet thou dost move within A Tropic sphere of soul, and all too weak For thy full-hearted utterance ; worn too thin By daily usage seem the words we speak, Too oft misprizing them ; so thou dost hold This current coin of ours for base, and choose From thine own wealth new moulds, wherein to fuse Thy virgin, unsunned gold ! So let thy choice be free ! Our spirits thus by divers laws are bound, 200 ' TO A FRIEND. One may not judge the other ; but from me Seek thou no other token ! for its sound Hath been to me for music bringing round Kind eyes that looked on me, kind hands I found Outstretched to help me over pathways drear ; And some of these are far, and some are near, And some are in the Heavens, but all are dear In God, who gave them to me ; so this " Friend " Is like a full-stringed chord, that still doth seem Within its sound to gather up and blend All, all that life in other lives that takes Away Life's curse of barrenness, and makes Our Being's sweet and often-troubled dream ! I never used it lightly ; unto me A sacredness hung round it ; for a Sign I held it of our common words that be Initial letters of a speech divine : Oh, take this coin, too oft to worthless ends Profaned, and see upon its circlet shine One Image fair, one Legend never dim ; And Whose but Caesar's ? for this word by Him Was used at parting, " I have called you Friends:' TO L. M. La mia Sorella che tra boona e bella Non so qual piu fosse." O OFT eyes, soft hands, soft step, that with no sound Hath glided to my side ; I know ye near, Yet pause not from my task to look around With lifted glance, for, Halcyon ! where'er Thou buildest for awhile, an atmosphere Of calm and quiet broods about thy nest ; O thou beloved inmate ! not a Guest Art thou, in any house, in any heart, For so thy presence makes itself a part Of all, we feel it like an unexpressed Sweet thought within the soul that gives it rest, And needeth not to be in words confessed ; 2 TO L. M. So moving on as if some inner law Of music graced thy steps, we only find And feel thee in our lives, because we draw An easier breath through mingling of so kind And pure an element ! thy soul doth lose No odour, yet around it still diffuse A charm within whose concentration lies The secret of thy strength ! oh, Rose full blown, That wearest still the bud's soft grace, unstrown Are all thy petals ; provident and wise, Thou hidest from the day's too-curious eyes The dews the morning gave thee, and dost fold A leaf above thy heart, but with no cold Reserve, for still its sweetness overflows. I question now thy Future : on what breast Wilt thou at length thy perfect bloom unclose ? I know not, yet I know thou wilt be blest ! TO THE AUTHOR OF "ZISKA." ]\JOT like the Sophist, of his phosphor-light Enamoured so, that he would blot out one By one God's lofty candles, fain in night To plunge the nations, so that for a sun They come to bow before his counterfeit ; And not like him of mocking smile, the dull Cold Scoraer, ill-content the heart to cheat Of Heaven, but trampling out the Beautiful From Earth, to make life's ruin more complete, Art Thou, oh, erring Genius ! not for thee Their high emprise, to drag Humanity About the miry streets, and hold to scorn This vesture God hath fashioned, God hath worn ; 204 TO THE AUTHOR OF "ZISKA." Dry, hopeless hearts, dry, loveless^ tearless eyes ! Thou Youth of lofty dreams, of generous prayers, Come out from them, and better recognize Thy place ! thy lot can never be with theirs ! For speaking to the Father thou hast said, " Give Thou to me, oh, give that I may share With them that need, Thought's true and living bread, Whereon the soul that feedeth hath to spare." Then turning to thy brethren, taking up Thy country's ancient war-cry, thou dost call With Him, her blind old Chief, " I claim a Cup, The Cup of freedom and of light FOR ALL ; " Oh, never be thy prayer, thy claim denied Of God or Man, but as thy soul doth yearn Mayst thou receive in measure far more wide Than thou dost ask ! thy thirst be satisfied By waters wrung from out a fuller urn Than thou dost dream of now : Oh, goodly tree, Though set so deep within the jungle-brake, The trees that in God's garden* planted be Might envy thee thy beauty ! yet they take * Ezekiel xxxi. 8, 9, 15. TO THE AUTHOR OF "ZISKA." 20$ A mourning up for thee, because the snake Is gliding 'twixt thy roots ; with burning breath These flowers of thine, of Loveliness and Death Show forth the fearful spousals ; from the Vine That hath thee in its clasp drops poison-wine. Yet dost thou struggle upwards from this lair Of doleful things, and even now the air Of open heaven hath fanned thy topmost bough. Lift higher o'er these under-growths thy brow, And look on Jacob's tents that whitening lie Within the sunshine ; hearken to the cry That rises from among them : in their shout For One, a Brother and a King, thy prayer Doth meet its answer. Spirit, that through doubt Hast kept thy hold on fervent Love, come out From this dim shade, thy portion waits thee there / REST. HTHIS life hath hours that hold The soul above itself, as at a show A child, upon a loving arm and bold Uplifted safe, upon the crowd below Smiles down serene, I speak to them that know This thing whereof I speak, that none can guess And none can paint, what marks hath Blessedness, What characters whereby it may be told ? Such hours with things that never can grow old Are shrined. One eve, 'mid autumns far away, I walked alone beside a river ; grey And pale was earth, the heavens were grey and pale, As if the dying year and dying day REST. 207 Sobbed out their lives together, wreaths of mist Stole down the hills to shroud them while they kissed Each other sadly ; yet behind this veil Of drearness and decay my soul did build, To music of its own, a temple filled With worshippers beloved that hither drew In silence ; then I thirsted not to hear The voice of any friend, nor wished for dear Companion's hand firm clasped in mine ; I knew, Had such been with me, they had been less near. LIBER VERITATIS. PART FIRST. "!N this book regard rather the affections than the expressions; Love is the speaker throughout, and if any one wish to understand it, it must be by Love." St. Bernard on the Canticles. TO THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. T^HOU Mother stern and proud, That carest not to hear about thy knee The singing of thy children ; absently Thou smilest on them, listening for the loud, Quick crashing of thy chariot. What to thee Is pastoral stop or reed ? thy thoughts are vowed To tasks of might, and thou thyself wilt be Thy Poet, finding in thy stormy tunes Rough music, leaving on the rock thy runes So dinted deep, no Bard hath need to tell The triumphs of a march where chronicle And deed are one. What carest thou for praise Of gentle-hearted singers ! Thou wilt raise The crown to thine own brows, and calmly claim The Empire thou hast won ; as yet no Name Is thine to conjure with, as in the days 2 TO THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. When Giants walked on earth, a spell more clear Is thine in thought, that makes an atmosphere Where all things are gigantic ! portents vast Loom round thy path, where good and evil cast Increasing shadows that the Evening near Foreshow ; as yet no Prophet doth appear In all thy sons, and he among the rest Most wise and honoured found, is but the Seer That reads thy signs, interpreting the best ! TO AN EARLY FRIEND. "D ENEATH the tree we played Together, Thou and I ! the sunshine fell Betwixt the boughs, and on our faces laid A loving finger, marking, where it strayed, A Dial for the hours, whose very shade Was but a softened brightness, for the place Wherein we dwelt was Eden ! Through the wild The man must journey, yet methinks the child Should stay within the garden ! with the Race Should run the mortal's history, and trace From those blest bowers its chequered chronicle ! We played beneath the Tree ; We did not pluck the apple ; little taste Was ours for fruit of knowledge ; little haste 214 TO AN EARLY FRIEND. To lift unbidden hands when ours were full Of flowers and purpled berries, beautiful, That grew around us ; but the apple fell Beside our feet, and through its sight and smell Instructed, now we good and evil knew, So must we bid that pleasant place Farewell. Yet well for us that there We dwelt awhile ! oh, well for us to make Acquaintance soon with all things glad and fair ; To have them for our earliest friends ! to take These playmates to our bosoms ere more stern Companions meet us, for they oft return And hold us by the hand, and for the sake Of Eden love us ! Now its Angel knows Our faces through all change, and oft from far Hath smiled upon us kind ; he will not close The gate so surely, but that Love ajar Hath held it for a space, and Dreams aside Have turned the Flaming Sword, and been our Guide O'er half-forgotten tracks ; and on the wind, Like kisses blown upon it, greetings kind Send whispers after us, to half recall Half-presage glories, that no Primal Fall TO AN EARLY FRIEND. 215 Hath robbed us of; for Heaven had been less near Had we not gazed up to it through the clear Calm eastern skies, that, waking or asleep, Bent o'er us in our childhood like a deep Unvexed, unfathomed sea, when it was Prayer To know, that day and night upon us there Our Father's eyes looked down ; "Our Father!" First And last in Love's blest language ! we were nurst Within Thy breast, Thy sapphire floor for roof Was over us ; and now less far aloof We view Thy awful throne, that then we played Beneath Thy footstool, and were not afraid ! And well for me that there We played together ! in my heart, thy Book Beloved from olden days, thou wouldst not look . So oft or fondly, maybe, flung aside With childish things, but for its margin wide With pictures stored ! Yet now we will not take This love of ours to pieces ; who would strew A blossom, leaf by leaf, to learn it grew As grow the flowers ? Now love me for the sake 2l6 TO AN EARLY FRIEND. Of blessed Eden ; if thou wilt, believe Me fairer than I am ! it will not grieve My soul to borrow of Thy wealth, and be Attired in splendour that belongs to Thee : Thou givest freely, for the heart is wise And bountiful and rich ; with naked eyes It seeth never ; like a child that takes Some thing of little price that nearest lies To be its treasure, well content it makes From out its very joy its Paradise ! OLD LETTERS. VXriTHIN an ancient hall, Where oft I love to wander, once I found An antique casket, that without a sound Flew open quick, and as a Rose will fall To pieces at a touch when overblown, So was the floor around me thickly strown With yellow leaves, the letters of the Dead : Oh hands that wrote these words, oh loving eyes That brightened over them, oh hearts whose prize And treasure once were these, by Time made Heir To this your sometime wealth, with pious care I gather in my hoards ; for this is dust Of human hearts that now I hold in trust, And while I muse above it, spirits flown Come back and commune with me, till the fled 2l8 OLD LETTERS. Pale ink reveals two names that now have grown Familiar to my soul, as I had known And pitied them in Youth ; in parley soft I win their secrets forth from them, and oft Make question of their Past ! Did Love find rest And fold its wing where it had made its nest So warm and deep, or were these of the strong And patient souls, condemned, though wedded long, To serve for the other duteously, and wait Upon a harsher Laban, Life, that proves With grievous, stem delays each heart that loves ? O gentle spirits, all your lives on high Are written fair, but mortal history Is traced upon the sand that may not keep The dint of wave, so quick the dash and leap That follows on a picture on the wall A name upon the stone a leaf whose green Less quickly fades, because it once hath been Within the Dove's soft beak, and this is all. OLD LETTERS. 219 (Written in Cypher^ I WRITE to thee in cypher, even so Doth not the heart write ever ? being proud, It careth not to boast its wealth, nor show Where lie its precious things by speaking loud. And here, upon my page an uncouth sign Would say, " I love thee ;" farther down this mark Shows plain, " for ever," yet the sense is dark To every eye that looks on it but thine. So is it even with my heart, thine ear Can catch each broken whisper it hath used ; So even with my life, thou makest clear Its meaning, oft-times to myself confused ; The souls that use one mother-tongue are free To mould their rapid speech, but when from thee I turn to others, straight I have to choose My words, as one who in a foreign dress Must clothe his thought, speaks slow in fear to err, Interpreting himself; 220 OLD LETTERS. We do but guess At one another darkly, 'raid the stir That thickens round us ; in this life of ours We are like players, knowing not the powers Nor compass of the instruments we vex, And by our rash, unskilful touch perplex To straining discord, needing still the key To seek, and all our being needfully To tune to one another's : Ours were set Together at the first ; each hand could move Like a skilled Master's, knowing well each fret And chord of the sweet viol he doth love, All up and down each other's soul, and yet Call forth new concords, now with softer kiss I move o'er other souls in fear to miss Their latent charm ; these too, if better known, Were worthier prizing ; * Love's great charity Hath taught this lesson, as beside her knee I stand, and child-like con it o'er and o'er, " Through loving one so much love all the more." * Note A. OLD LETTERS. 221 II. How much, dear friend, how much Wouldst thou from me ? Oh, nothing but the whole I give or take : what good is in the touch Of hands that for awhile the other fold, Of eyes that read in each Life's unexpressed Deep hint of ecstasy to each confessed, Of hearts that for awhile are warm and blest Within the other, yet into the cold Must pass again, while fading from the West, Pale gleams withdraw, and grieving winds molest ? Content, content ! within a quiet room All warm and lit we meet, the outward gloom Is like a folding arm about us pressed ; A space to love in, and a space to pray We find ; content, content ! until the Day Go down we quit not our beloved rest. 222 OLD LETTERS. III. OFT have I bent my gaze Adown our Life's steep edge with eyeballs dim And thirsting soul, a-weary of the day's Hot parching dust and glare ; this Well is deep, Too seldom rise the waters to its brim, And I had nought to draw with ! oft in sleep I felt them touch my very lips, and flow All o'er my forehead and my hands, but, lo ! I waked and thirsted ; looking down, I knew Each pebble lying at the base, that drew A glimmer from the sunbeam ; round the rim I knew each flower, each forked fern that through The stone did thrust its tongue, each moss that grew Far down its cool and slippery sides I knew All but the water's freshness. OLD LETTERS. 223 Now I yearn No more in vain, no longer need I stoop So wistful o'er the well, for like an urn Is thy pure soul to me, wherein I scoop The waters as I list, and still return. 224 OLD LETTERS. IV. WE broke no piece of gold, We took no pledge of lock nor picture slid Within the breast; our faith was not so cold That it should ask for any sign ! We date Our marriage from our meeting day, and hold These spousals of the soul inviolate As they are secret ; for no friends were bid To grace our banquet, yet a guest Divine Was there, Who from that hour did consecrate Life's water, turning it for us to wine. OLD LETTERS. 225 V. STERN voices say, " Too much Thou givest unto one thy soul in trust ; To frame such covenants with things of dust Is but idolatry, that to decay Doth quickly tend." I answer not to such, But turning from them proudly, I appeal Unto my equals,* none but those that feel Shall be my judges in this question ; nay ! I will not unto these my cause unseal, But bear it to a Court where I shall find A yet more patient hearing ; far more kind The Father than the Brethren ! He who made The heart doth know its need, but what are we, And whence have we our wisdom, unafraid With hands unskilled to vex a mystery We cannot disentangle ? * Note B. Q 226 OLD LETTERS. Yet I speak Too harshly in this matter, silence best Be cometh happy spirits ; hearts at rest ; O Love, thy gentleness hath made me meek ! OLD LETTERS. 227 VI. UPON thy lips this name Of mine so softly taken, first became That which it is in very deed, the name Most Christian and most kind, by which I claim A wide inheritance ; and I have borne This name so long, and only yester morn Have learned its sweetness ! so doth life, our field Redeemed for us, but slowly, slowly yield The treasure hid within it ! all our less Would grow to more, and this our Earth to Heaven, Might we but pierce unto the blessedness That lies so near us, might we but possess The things that are our own, as they were given ! 128 OLD LETTERS. VII. I TURN from things behind \ They lose their savour ! now that on the core Of Life content I feed, I fling the rind, That once looked fair, aside for evermore, For I have pierced beneath it. Since my eyes Have looked upon thy face, to all things wise, And pure, and noble they have clearer grown ; But careless are they to the vanities That once could hold them chained. I stood alone To watch the long procession that yestreen Moved through our city stately to the flow Of martial music ; then I saw thee lean From out a balcony, and all the show Went by unmarked of me, as we had been Alone beside the river winding slow j So doth this world's fair Pageant pass me by, I see but thee ! yet do not therefore grow Unmindful of its goodly company : OLD LETTERS. 229 I tracked those glittering ranks until they stayed Within the square, and passing through the door Of the great Minster, took within its shade The sunshine after them ; like One that prayed In silence, seemed that multitude, before So bright and jubilant, now only made The stiller for its vastness, as the sea Doth soothe the sense with wide monotony Of quiet waves unstirred. I saw thee kneel Afar ; the organ, as it were the Soul Of many human souls, that did reveal Their secrets, sighed, as on its stormy roll It gathered them ; my silent spirit drew More close to those who prayed with me ; I knew That each of these still faces, where I see No charm to bid me look again, doth make The sunshine of some eye, and for its sake The heavens and earth look fairer : each that here Doth kneel, is loved of some, or hath been dear, The treasure of some heart beneath the sod. Oh, we are held unto the other near When each is dear to one and all to God ! AFTER PARTING. r\ LOVE, O Death ! how sweet, How strange are ye ! oh Parting ! that dost stand Between these twain, from touch of either hand, One warm, one cold, thou winnest strength to meet Thy hour and overcome it ! Tenderness And woe are twins ! and may not deeply bless Except together, when the tear one weeps Falls in the golden cup the other keeps Hid for this moment in his bre.ast, unshown Till needed most ; When Love must leave its Own Beloved, loved unto the end, it broke Its vase of costliest odours ; though it spoke Before as none have spoken, then its tone Was fullest, clearest ; breaking hearts have flown AFTER PARTING. 23! To fasten on those words, " Be not afraid !" And aching spirits, desolate, have grown Like limpets to this Rock, " Now have I prayed The Father for you, and ye are not lone, I leave you not uncomforted." E'en so Full oft since then hath Parting made us know A Heavenly Presence ; while we broke our bread With bitter herbs, the words were not our own That then we spoke, and we were comforted. For there is concentration in strong pain That draws the soul together ; it can hold Its breath beneath the waves, and like a bold Strong diver, desperate will snatch and gain What calmer moments fail o One of old Spake, looking on his judges, " Soon I die ; So gather up my words that are not vain, The lip of Death turns speech to prophecy." So hath the parting hour its agony Of inspiration : All our path with dew Was drenched that autumn morning ; like a day Begun too soon, our Life before us lay 2.32 AFTER PARTING. In early dullness, hard to live it through Without each other ! slow our footsteps drew, And slower, to our bourne, because they knew They measured off the moments we must spend Together ; we were silent friend to friend Was near as yet ; at last tKou spakest low My name, and whispered, " Bless me ere I go ! " Oh, then I sadly thought, but did not speak : How may / bless thee, I, oft proved so weak, So poor in blessing that I can but love, Nor even bless through loving ? I will seek For that I cannot give. " May One above, Beloved, love thee, keep thee, bless thee still I " I spake these words in sadness, but a flame Did sweep them from my lips ; the next that came Was even as a Message, "and He will!" IN ABSENCE. A ND quick as when a blush Drinks up within its hasty glow a tear - From off the cheek, within that sudden gush Of warmth our sadness grew to better cheer. Not now so wide, methinks, not now so drear The blank that parts our lives, for Love between Keeps ever moving ; even now I ween Thy task becomes less hard I for sacrifice And patience are thy path, which ever lies O'er odorous herbs ; but other destinies And other toils are mine, and, like a goad, The thought of thee doth urge me on the road Where thou dost wait me : but lest this should fail, For Hope, the lover's friend, grows sometimes pale 234 IN ABSENCE. In musing o'er his fortunes, oft to me A surer aim is present : I would be Of thee more worthy and of Him that blest My life with thine, and thus I cannot rest ; Spurred on by noble discontent, my care Is still to make this proud, unquiet breast The fitter for the flower it may not wear ! THE FIRST LETTER. 1VT OT since the breeze that took Thy soul by kind surprise, and turning o'er Its pages on a sudden, let me look Upon my name ere yet thou wast aware (Keep thou that leaf turned ever down, that there The book may open soonest !) have I known A moment like to this ; I keep thy seal Unbroken, as it were thy hand in mine ; I hold it clasped in silence, till I feel A warmth hath reached my spirit ; then I ope These pages, confident as one with Hope 236 THE FIRST LETTER. In certain league ; I need but touch this spring That now I play with to and fro, to bring Thy Presence on the stillness ; these enclose Thy spirit shut within them. Even now Thy soul's breath is upon them as a Rose Fresh plucked and dewy with the morning, thou Hast sent me of thine inner life that glows In sweetness ; fain am I, yet know not how, To send thee thus each fancy as it blows ; But while I gather these my thoughts, they fade, And pressed upon the page their colours fly, And all their sap runs from them, wan and dry, Like withered flowers within a herbal laid ; And this may be, perchance, because my heart Hath been alike their cradle and their tomb, Close folded there too long, their hues depart, Yet press them unto thine, and they will bloom ! SILENCE T TURN unto the Past When I have need of comfort ; 1 am vowed To dear remembrances : most like some proud^ Poor Noble, who, on evil fortunes cast, Has saved his pictures from the wreck, I muse Mid these that I have gathered, till I lose The drearness of the Present 1 On the hill That noon in summer found us ; far below We heard the river in a slumbrous flow Chide o'er its pebbles, slow and yet more slow ; 238 SILENCE. Beneath our feet the very grasses slept, Signed by the sliding sunbeam as it crept From blade to blade, slow-stealing with a still Admonitory gesture ; now a thrill Ran lightly through the wood, but ere to sound The shiver grew upon the hush profound, It died encalmed ; methought a Spirit's sigh Had then been audible, but none came by To trouble us, and we were silent, fed With golden musings by our friend that read From out thy chosen Poet ; in a hall Of mute expectancy we stood, where all That listened with us held their breath unstirred ; When suddenly the reader's voice let fall Its flow of music ; sweet as was the song He paused in, conquered by a spell more strong, We asked him not its cadence to recall. It seemed as if a Thought of God did fill His World, that drawn unto the Father's breast, Lay hushed with all its children. This was Rest, And this the soul's true Sabbath, deep and still. Then marvelled I no longer that a space Is found in Heaven for Silence ; so to me That hour made known its true sufficiency, SILENCE. 239 Revealed not oft below, because its place Is with the Blessed ! Speech is but a part Of Life's deep poverty, whereof the heart Is conscious, striving in its vague unrest To fill its void ; but when the measure pressed And running over, to its clasp is given, It seeketh nothing more, and Earth is blest With Silence even such as is in Heaven ! IN ILLNESS. T SUNK beneath the wave Of sleep, not drawn as oft by visions light And soothing as the hand of Mermaid white, But by intolerable pangs that drave Me downwards, plunging like a diver keen For some unrestful pause, some blank between The fiery chinks of anguish, dimly seen And deeply longed for ; yet I might not stir. All day, beneath a cruel armourer, The Hours like weary slaves slow, silent, pale, Wrought link by link their iron mesh of mail About my senses ; now a brief escape I won, but after me a winged shape, Most like a wild and weird musician, threw His hand 'mid shattered chords, and did renew IN ILLNESS. 241 The day's slow-dying torture. It was Pain That held me only lengthening out its chain, And through its glare unmitigable drew Strange forms from out the darkness oh the steep, Rock-girdled citadel of rest to gain, And so escape them ! but I strove in vain ; For sleep hath its two Worlds ! a lower deep Within its deep still opens ! Night is kind As is the Day, so one doth fold behind Its light, and one in darkness shroud a worn And spectral Realm ; but now the veil was torn, The gulf yawned wide, and down amid the waste And leavings of existence, charred, defaced It sucked my soul ; 'mid living agonies I walked, on old disquietudes forlorn I stumbled as I trode ; I saw them rise And point at me, a lifetime's mockeries, The dreary phantasms of giants shorn And crippled of their strength; on swords that gleamed Mid oozy weeds, deep bedded to their hilt, I gazed, and seemed no more like one that dreamed. Once were these girt for valiant enterprise ; I know not now if it were sloth or guilt R 242 IN ILLNESS. That rusted them, for all things did perplex My spirit, dragging it among the wrecks Of heart and brain ; hard stony eyes were set On mine, with endless questionings that met No answer ; Then I know not how the strife Gave way ; and passing through that outer court Of giddy cries confused, I gained the shrine Where sleep is kindest, holiest : too divine Those eyes of hers for sadness, and for sport Her brow too tender ! Then she laid on mine Her hand, she pressed it with a hallowed sign, And all its throbbings vanished ; It was Night, I stood with thee within a garden ; Night, Yet never hath the Noonday been so fair, For all the air was luminous, and white Was every flower that grew around us there; We did not marvel at their fragrance rare ; Their bloom was but the breathing in of light That paled into a subtle odour ; these Were gentle ghosts of flowers that other where IN ILLNESS. 243 Bloomed many-coloured 'neath familiar trees ; Now calm as spirits passed away in prayer. Large-leaved and beautiful the Jessamine Hung forth her stars ; the Rose did half resign Her empire with her blush, and over all The Lily reared her blossomed sceptre tall ; While at our feet the Violet's purple fled Would whisper mutely of a wound that bled No longer ; then I know not what delight Fell on our asking spirits, that addressed Each other on the silence, " All is drest For Death or for the Bridal, each is white And each is solemn, each hath won for guest An Angel, and we know not which is best." SEORSUM. " The Heart is a Clock that gives warning before its Hour strikes. ' r> EFORE they met they loved ; Their souls fore-felt each other : passing through This life's dim treasure-caverns, on them grew A whisper, clearer as they onwards moved ; " There is a Sesame that opens to Yet richer chambers," so like Him who drew The perfect circle of our globe, and proved, That waiting for him on its margin (wJiere He knew not yet), a World in summer air And muffling leaves and greenest quiet slept Until he came to wake it, they were 'ware Of this bright realm, this Virgin of the Sun, This bride unsought, unwooed, that should be won. But of the luxury, the wealth it kept SEORSUM. 245 In store, its gorgeous wilds, its solitude Instinct with life, its tropic shade and glow Alternating, they knew not, nor could know. Yet, as they neared that shore, the deep was strown With drifts of fragrant things, and seawards blown, Strange birds with sunshine warm upon them, clung About their masts, while evermore, like tales So vague and sweet that spoken language fails To catch their music-meaning, gentlest gales Curled up the waves before their prow, and sung And whistled clear within their fluttering sails, To lure them to the country whence they sprung. So when they met they loved ; They took not counsel of the Eye or Ear ; These are but erring vassals, and the clear Soul-region in its rarer atmosphere Needs not their failing witness. This was June, The noon of Life, the heart was at its noon ; A noon by Summer lulled to sleep, and hid Beneath its leaves, half-stirring to a tune Self-sung in happy dreams ; while sunshine slid Adown the hill's steep side, and overtook And meshed within its golden net, each nook 246 SEORSUM. O'ershadowed with dark growths, and filled each cleft And thunder-splintered chasm storms had left ; When these two mounted. on a blissful tide, Sailed each within the other's soul no oar Flashed light along their way, no canvas wide Impelled them ; but a steadfast current bore Them o'er the level champaign, till they neared A Palace, where, through open gate and door, They gazed together on the land that lay Before them, glittering peak and gleaming bay, As on a country known to them before, Though unbeheld : and even as a King Upon his crowning day new robes will fling On all around him, so each common thing Stood forth in light apparelled, and took Its hue and semblance even from the look They cast upon it ; yet, thus venturing, I speak not wisely, nay, these only took Their pristine hues their colour that forsook And fled, when Man with Death upon his track Went woeful forth from Eden's gate, came back When Eden's tongue was spoken ! and the smile. That Nature 'neath her Mother's brow of care Hides in her loving eyes, dawned bland and fair , SEORSUM. -247 To see her children's gladness ! so the while They sat beneath one crown, upon one throne, And wrapped within the purple, o'er their own Stretched forth the sceptre ; never dial flung Its warning shadow, never iron tongue Knelled forth the busy hours ;* they took no heed Of Time or of his flight, nor had they need : For they together with the world were young, And ever would be ! Life in very deed Held back for them no Future, and the Past Lay calm before them in a mirror glassed To feed sweet fancies, showing how it led To this bright now; so all things ministered And wrought their bidding ; here they deemed it well, Like her who said, "I sit a Queen," to dwell In joy for evermore ; but change befell. They parted but they loved ; How could these part ? what sword could be in life To sever hearts like these ? Methinks its strife Should but have proved the furnace in whose glow The fiery bars of metal fuse, and grow More close together welded ; even so. * Note C. 2 4 8 SEORSUM. But in this world of ours the heart, though strong And armed and watchful, never holdeth long Its own in peace ; for sure as to the moon The Ocean rises, here a steadfast law Doth hold or rend asunder hearts that draw Together, restless till they meet, then soon Divided, and for ever ; it would seem That God hath made these loving hearts and bold, For Him and for His world that lies a-cold For lack of generous fuel, not to fold Their warmth within each other, but to stream Afar and wide, with broader, purer gleam. How this may be I know not, but I know That never more within one hearth-light's glow These sat together ; never, gazing through One lattice, watched the sky ; but when they knew Their paths were severed, rising, on their way Went forth before the breaking of the day, And parted on Life's cross-road, not before Each lifted up a voice of weeping sore, And blessed the other's journey ! So they moved (In tents abiding) through new lands that bore No likeness to the country where of yore They dwelt together : other scenes and looks SEORSUM. Grew round them ; other hearts became the books They read and mused in ; other trials proved, And other blessings gladdened, yet they loved. They parted, yet they love; And shall these spirits in an air serene, Where nought can shadow, nought can come between, Meet once again, and to the other grow More close and sure than could have been below ? Or will that State, that blissful Commonweal, Leave, each of all possessing, room to feel For other bliss than merges in the flow Of Love's great ocean, whence these drops did steal To Earth of old, and wandered to and fro ? I know not of this now, but I shall know. CORAM. HPHOU earnest in a dream, So sudden taken from my life that now 'Mid all Earth's strangeness, it would strangest seem To feel thy hand meet mine in greeting, Thou That clasped it once so close ! but seas have swept Between us, silken Spring-times have unrolled Their bursting green, wild Autumns shaken gold Upon our paths, since last I looked on thee ; And on our Life's great organ suddenly Have keys gone silent, whence the music rolled In blissful waves ; but still through manifold Swift change and dreary pause our hearts have kept (Like quiet watchers left in peace to hold A tryst with Thought, while others deemed they slept) The steadfast secret of our Love untold. CO RAM. Together and alone We stood : they have not loved who have not known What meaning lies in those two words alone, Together and alone ! And ever went a dash Of tinkling, chiming waters through my dream, As of a brook that sends a quiet flash Through tangled boughs, and ever golden brown From wet bright stone to stone goes lapsing down ; There oft we stood with hands together locked, And lips whose gay and wandering converse mocked The deeper oracles that ran below Light words, light leaves, clear waters in their flow, Till through those wood-aisles dim A breath of soul, a consecration-hymn Rose gradual on the summer's sunset glow. Then came an hour that tore Our lives asunder, but within my dream Far, far away did change and parting seem As waves that chide upon some distant shore ; Our hands were locked, our lips we did not speak, Our very souls were locked, we did not seek 252 CORAM. For word, or look, or outward token more ; It was not Heaven, because we were not glad, It was not Earth, no future made us sad, But in a calm, unshadowed land between, Our spirits loosened from their bonds terrene Did meet, and commune in a language clear, Of things that they had known and suffered here And I awoke and knew thou hadst been near! TO A LONG-PARTED FRIEND. "That I never made use of your stay here to unite the present with departed days is one of the things there are not a few of them for which I can never be consoled ; it was as though a spell lay upon me ; I felt it would be enough to speak one word, but that word I could not unclose my lips to speak. The Past could not rise again from its grave, and I felt as though it would have shaken the foundations of that Present, which it is now my duty to preserve and develop. My mind is like a nation that has passed through a revolution, and must proceed in a new order, the old order being irrevo- cably destroyed. . . . Yet how was it with me after you had gone?" NiebvJir io Count Adam Moltke. I. A S by a camp-fire in the wilderness Two hunters meet, that o'er the Prairie long Have roamed on distant tracts companionless ; So to this city, drifted by the stress That draws the nations hither in the throng We stood together in this mortal press A moment face to face ; Thou didst not guess At mine, and I forgive me then this wrong 254 TO A LONG-PARTED FRIEND. By favour of the light that fitful fell Did let thee pass unchallenged ; so that look, Thine olden look, so long unseen, so well Remembered, troubled me ; thine aspect shook The strong foundations of my soul, I knew It was the Past within its grave that drew A long, deep, sighing breath, and like a pent Volcanic force, this smouldering element Would kindle at thy glance ; I felt a stir Among the ashes of a sepulchre Long sealed, long smooth with grass, with flowers o'ergrown, A word from Thee, and bursting through the stone The Dead had risen up ! before one shrine We knelt together ; though the fires are cold We lighted there, I deem that still we hold A mournful faith unto this worship old And lovely, counting it for half Divine. Now is that altar broken, and a sign From Heaven hath warned us hence we may not bring The living Past again, we can but wring Its secrets from its grasp, disquieting Like one of old, with awful charm its sleep : TO A LONG-PARTED FRIEND. 255 Oh, leave its rest unbroken, I assign A day far hence to meet Thee now thine eye Would vex me with its kindness, silently Would turn where mine is turning : even yet, I am as one that wistful o'er a wave Stoops down, intent, and sees beneath it lie The fragments of a wreck, that glistering wet Tempt down the eager outstretched hand ; I crave A little longer pause, for soon or late Come all things to a calm ; I do but wait. I turned, and thou wert gone ; O then my heart rose sudden up and passed A hasty judgment ; saying, I had cast A Life within that moment from me, more Than life would give again, and chiding sore, Like one defrauded of its right, it took Its arrows tipped with olden love, a look, A word remembered barbs them oh, my friend, I turn to thee for solace ; draw this glaive Deep plunged unto the hilt from out my breast ! Thy hand it was unwittingly that drave It home, and none beside can give it rest ; TO A LONG-PARTED FRIEND. Speak comfort to my soul, oh reconcile My spirit with itself ! upon thy track My heart runs after Thee ; yes, mile by mile, It follows Thee, it does not call thee back ! TO A LONG-PARTED FRIEND. 257 II. I SAID, I do assign A day far hence to speak with Thee ; if late Or soon it fall, I know not, for its date Rests not with me, but One above, who draws Our ruins to an order through the fine And ceaseless working of His kindly laws ; For we are hasty builders incomplete ; Our Master follows after, far more slow And far more sure than we, for frost and heat, And winds that breathe, and waters in their flow Work with Him silently; we stand too near The part as yet to look upon the whole ; That thing which shall be doth not yet appear ; It is not with the eye but with the soul That we must view God's work ; s 258 TO A LONG-PARTED FRIEND. Of when and where We ask not wisely ; if our meeting were Delayed indeed, until no more to part We meet at last within a Mansion fair Where there are many such, would this impart A sadness to thy spirit ? heart with heart May commune safely when the Master's art Hath tuned His perfect instrument ! below We learn not half its sweetness \ not for men Its broken strings are joined ; it keeps its flow Of music for the Land where none again May wring its chords ; Yet even here, I know, Are seasons calm and glad that antedate The coming in of happier cycles, where The human soul, too long left desolate, Shall reckon up its Sabbaths, and repair Its pleasant things laid waste ; upon that Rest Together we shall enter ! we shall share Its joy above, below, as God deems best ! TO * *. " Then, towards the right, I saw a cloud of the colour of opal, and towards the left, a dusky cloud, and under both, the appearance as of a falling shower; under the latter, as of rain at the end of autumn, and under the former, as of dew at the beginning of spring, and immediately I returned from the spirit into the body, and from the spiritual into the natural world." SWEDENBORG. T SAY not to Thee, " Dost Thou mind Thee how that eve above the dell We sat together?" for I know thou must Remember it, as I remember, well. I held thy hand in mine ; We spoke of many things, with frequent calm Of tender pause between ; the air was balm That stirred the pages of the Book we held Betwixt our hearts, till by their warmth compelled, 260 TO * * ; . . - - - We brought its faded characters to shine Upon us, tracing them with finger fine Still farther back, and when, upon a word We paused, that time had worn, or grief had slurred, Our spirits drew the closer, till at last I read, as if by hearth-light flame, each line Within the glow thy soul around thee cast, Whilst thou didst read them by the light of mine. And loath its clasps to close We hung above that Book ; we kissed its leaves, And marvelled at their fragrance, till a rose Dropt from them, gathered once when summer-eves Were kindest, it had withered there ; the bloom Had fallen from it, yet, within its tomb It strewed with odours all its winding-sheet, Fragrant in life, among the dead how sweet ! I held thee by the hand ; The evening deepened round us, still we read, Evoking those old spells, till from the Dead W T e summoned up our Youth and saw it stand Before us beautiful ! upon its brow Sat pain and sweetness mingling, even now TO * * a I know not which was victor ; then we took Our counsel with the pages of the Book To reckon with it harshly, but this dust Turned on us sudden with the look of yore And of the wealth it took away, the trust It broke with us, all question we forbore. But even as a child, Lured by a bird's clear singing, makes a track Within the wood's deep heart, did fancies wild And lovely draw us farther, farther back ; Until, 'mid windings green and lone we felt Our feet were deep in flowers we loved before Those grassy paths brake sudden, and we dwelt In Arcady no more ! We murmured, " Yea, no more We know our Eden's place, yet is it well ; Although the gate be barred for us, the Door Is ever open." Suddenly there fell A glory from the Heavens, and all the dell Was filled with quivering light, as in a cup 262 TO * * Its woody hollow caught and kindled up The sun's last sinking flashes ; on the sky There was no cloud, no flaming bar, no line Of fire along the West, but solemnly Heaven glowed unto its depths, as if the curse Were lifted upwards from our universe One moment's Sabbath space, and only Love Stooped down above its World ! so from above A smile dropt visibly on Earth, that prest To meet that sign of reconcilement blest On brow and bosom blest. We spoke no more ; Our souls were silenced ; then we thought to fold The pages of the volume worn and old That still lay open, but the sunlight fell And tracked each letter luminous and bold, Until it shone a golden Chronicle, O sweet, sad Book, traced o'er With marvels ! light must fall Upon thy page from Heaven, before We see that Love writ all ! TO # * 263 II. THEN while we mused, a word Fell on us, spoken once on desert plain, " Go, gather up these fragments that remain, And store them carefully, that none be lost j" And at that Voice methought the ashes stirred Within the Vale of Vision ;* sere and dry Each severed hope, each shred of memory, Did shake and come together. Suddenly Our life from days when infancy was sweet Stood up before us, all from head to feet Transfigured fair. "How holy is this place!" I said, and wist not what I spake ; methought I felt like one upon his journey brought * Ezek. xxxvii. 264 TO * * By ways he knows not of ; these pathways dim Had ever seemed their promised end to cheat, Yet had they led to Him In whom Life's tangled, broken threads complete Are gathered up, its wasted things made meet For holier use, its roughness smoothed, its bitter turned to sweet ! Then saw we how this hour, That we had chidden with, this mortal life, That broke its faith with us, had not the power To keep it better ; weariness and strife So marred its gentler purpose ; yet comprest Among its thick-set thorns, because the air Did breathe about it all too chill and rare, Our Past had held our Future, like a Rose That may not yet its perfect soul disclose, Lest angry winds should scatter and molest ; So shut within this narrow bud, its woes Were but the crumpled leaves too closely prest ; And all its loveliness did but enclose The germ of after beauty, now a Guest, But soon to be a Dweller ! TO * * 265 So we stood, While gradual to our feet the shadows fell ; We looked abroad, and all was very good ; On all within was written, " It is well ;" For things that were and would be met and kissed Each other in the heart, that like a child For loss of each bright joy that it had missed, Was by a loving promise reconciled ! TO A DISTANT FRIEND. INSCRIBED TO D. E. L. There are wonders in true affection." Religio Medici. T KNEW not ye were sad, Dear distant friends of mine ! Across the sea Ye sent me only tidings making glad, And all was gladness round ; for Life to me Had grown a summer's day, whose very air Was luxury to breathe, and on Love's fair Smooth forehead lurked no folded plait of care ; Yet, borne I knew not whence, a sadness stole. Disquieting the music of my soul TO A DISTANT FRIEND. 267 With dreary change j as one that, feasting high At some great banquet, feels a tremor chill Pass o'er him, and, grown sudden pale and still, Sets down his brimming goblet with a sigh, So all the wine of my felicity Was mixed with tears ! oh, strange that now the cup Should shrink within itself, and narrow up For fulness poured within it ! dark distrust Was this of God, and servile fear, unjust To Love's ungrudging sunshine : I would pray, And so this heaviness should pass away ; But when your names arose that ever there Are nearest to my spirit, all my prayer Was stayed upon their sound j as when a strain Recurring oft unbidden, will enchain The sense to track its cadence, I must pause Upon these words that ever on my way O'erlook me urgent, " Pray yet longer, pray For them thou lovest, is there not a cause ? " And even then ye wept ; And even then o'er Desert and o'er Sea Were deathful tidings speeding on to me, That knew them through a steadfast pulse that kept 268 TO A DISTANT FRIEND. Its pace with yours ; I needed but to tear My festal robes to show the sackcloth bare They hid ; and even with the iron tongue That knelled your loss, a warning presage flung Across my path the shadow of your care ! And quickly hath this keen Vibration brought us to the other near, Because the air betwixt us was serene ; And calm as when on mountain summits clear, We count distinct the fall of distant bells, So is there stillness round the soul that dwells In Love ! The spirit loosened from the jar Of earthly turbulence, can hear afar Beloved footsteps stir, and thus we prove Through very pain the comforting of Love. For we have parted at a wrench from all The things we held in common, so that now One wears the rose of joy, while on some brow Or in some bosom best-beloved, the thorn Is rankling deep ; for now we may not press Each other's hand or lip, we do but guess At one another's faces far withdrawn. And one is crowned and robed, while one forlorn TO A DISTANT FRIEND. 269 Doth sit upon the ground ; our lots are cast So wide, upon the waste your whisper dies, And while we tell you of our smile it flies. For even while we speak with you so fast Life's golden sands are fleeting unto Past Our Present darkens ! Yet the heart hath set Its calm Eternal Dial to a Sun That changes not Oh, friends, we had not met E'en when together ; heart when drawn to heart Most near, had shrunk and shivered, held apart By chillness from within more blank, more keen Than seas that roll, than winds that sweep between, Except for Him who holdeth even yet Our souls in one. Oh, Love, that doth o'ersweep The gulfs of Time and Space, and o'er our sleep And o'er our waking brood, if dear and near Are one in thy blest language even here, How may it fare with them that on a shore Where none are parted, none are troubled more, A little farther from us dwell, set free From bonds that fetter us? And may there be In heavenly harps a chord that vibrates still In swift yet painless unison with ill 270 TO A DISTANT FRIEND. That mars not perfect music ? Yet I cast My plummet down a mystery too vast For mortal line to fathom. Deep to deep Doth call, yet wake no answer. Love will keep This sweetest of its secrets till the last ! TO MY FRIENDS AT . HTHIS love of ours hath been Awhile mislaid, it never could be lost ; I did not fear for it, yet somewhat crossed My spirit mournfully, as o'er the grass The little cloudlets darken as they pass. It was a shadow from without that swept The sunshine off our spirits, yet I wept, So much I missed that sunshine ! Sad and strange It seemed to me that any chill should creep Across our Love ; yet patient o'er its sleep I watched and warmed it safe through every change, Until it wakened smiling ! All things came As they had been of old, yet not the same, 272 TO MY FRIENDS AT . For nought returns again ! but far more sure, More deep our trust, more fitted to endure Life's changeful skies ; we mourn not for that fled First April bloom ; we count not up the cost Of that sweet blossom on the breezes sped, The ripened fruit need fear no after-frost ! MEETING. f~\ H, how elate my look, Far down the thronged and lighted table sent Upon a careless quest indifferent, Met thine in mirthful flashing ! Then we took Our leave together, and, like boys released By the glad stroke of Noonday, from the feast Went home beneath the starlight. Oh, that night, How shall I e'er forget it ! At a bound My spirit rose, a river that had found Its level on a sudden ; forth in chase Quick vagrant fancies rushed as in a race, Unemulous and glad ; while at the light Of those wild torch-fires solemn thoughts and deep Enkindled clear, as on a northern sky, Through Borealis gleams that flash and leap, T 274 MEETING. The stars look down. What was that hour to me ! What is it now ! My soul hath been more free, More noble, since that meeting ; to the laws Of this strange country for awhile in pause Content to hold my breath ; with step more bold Because my wings have grown, I walk these old Accustomed pathways. Earnest Friend, thy youth Of soul makes all things fresher ; in thy truth Grows all more true, more real ; come and hold Thy mirror to my soul, that I may be The more myself for having been with thee ! PARTING. TO E. L. R. "\ 1 TE parted not like lovers in their youth, Fond pledge and promise eager to renew, But e'en like steadfast-hearted friends, whose truth, Tried by world-wear, world-change, soul-conflict, knew Its strength and rested ; so our words were few. We parted with the clamour of the street Around us thick, yet secret, lone, and sweet Was our communing. Then I did not say As oft of yore, " Dear friend, when far away, Remember me," nor thou, " Forget me not." What is this life that Thou shouldst be forgot 276 PARTING. For all that it hath yet to give me ? Nay ! In this world or the next I count to be Remembering and remembered ; we have shared The cloud and sunshine here, Eternity Will never blight the flower that Time hath spared ! TO A DEPARTED SPIRIT. "And there, in Abraham's bosom, whatever it be which that bosom signifies, lives my sweet friend. For what other place is there for such a soul ? " ST. AUGUSTINE'S Confessions. /^~\FT was I wont to pray For thee in olden days ; our spirits knew A common travail, and upon the way We never stayed to commune, but we drew A comfort from the other, inly cheered ; So knowing of the things beloved and feared Of thee, O gentle Spirit ! as before I walked, an elder pilgrim, o'er and o'er I scanned the ground for thee, and it was sweet To think that after me thy tender feet 278 TO A DEPARTED SPIRIT. Might find a smoother path j when suddenly Thou didst o'ertake me with a footstep fleet, And winged, turning on me such a bright, Sweet, joyous face, I knew that thou hadst neared Thy journey's end, and even then appeared The long-sought home, the Father's house in sight ; While from its flaming windows all alight Came festal sounds. Then, Friend beloved, for thee I could not pray as once ; though still arose Thy name because of use, would somewhat say, " Pray not for her, but for thyself and those Who linger far behind ; the little way That she hath yet to travel, like the rose Doth blossom, paved with love ; her kindred wait E'en now to welcome her within the gate ; But ere their dancing and their songs resound, Her spirit rushing on before, hath met The Father coming forth ; her cheek is wet With reconciling tears. Oh, wake no sound, She seeketh nothing further ! she hath found Him whom her soul desired by night and day, What wouldst thou ask for her?" TO A DEPARTED SPIRIT. 279 Yet must I pray For thee, so spake I soft, " The stream is wide That lies between j oh, gentle be its flow When she doth cross," that boon was not denied. Now that thy feet upon the hither side Stand firm, I charge thee, Friend, by all below That knit our souls in one, that thou dost take This music from my lips, for thou canst frame Its flow more fitly ; only change thy name Beloved, for mine. I lay on thee this task, Entreat for me !* for thou hast drawn more near God's gracious heart, and closer to His ear, Nay ! thou dost pray for me, I need not ask ! * Note D, LIBER VERITATIS. PART SECOND. " Thoughts too deep to be expressed, Yet too strong to be suppressed. GEORGE WITHER. THE RECONCILER. "And I wept much, because no man was found worthy to open and to read the book, neither to look thereon. And one of the elders saith unto me, Weep not : behold, the Lion of the tribe of Juda, the Root of David, hath prevailed to open the book." T/te Revelation of St. John. A LL things are reconciled In Thee, O Lord ! all fierce extremes that beat Along Time's shore, like chidden waves grown mild, Have crept to kiss Thy feet ! For there is no more sea Within Thy kingdom ; so within Thy reign Are no more tides that murmur and complain, Like ancient foes that seem through some dark law Their life from out each other's hate to draw ; 284 THE RECONCILER. So Light and Darkness, Good and Evil, set Against the other's being, strive, and yet Contending mix, while caught and driven by winds So keen and restless in their rage, the Will, Drawn hither, thither, trembles, till it finds Its centre, and is still. Then nothing is displaced, Thou drawest all things to an Order fair ; The things we treasure most with those our haste Doth count for nought, alike in Thee are graced With beauty past compare. For all grows sweet in Thee, Since Thou didst gather us in One, and bring This fading flower of our humanity To perfect blossoming. All comes to bloom ! this wild Green outward World of ours, that still must wear The furrow on its brow, by print of care And toil struck deep ; this world by Sin made sad, Hath felt Thy foot upon its sod, and smiled, The desert place is glad ! THE RECONCILER. 285 Thou madest all things glad As they were good. When first Thy sunbeam flew Abroad, it lit on nothing that was sad j So now is all made new That meets in Thee ! Thou takest for thy birth Is of the Morning's womb, and so the dew Lies ever on it of the things that Earth Hath left for waste, their freshness to renew. Him most of all, the Chief Of things thy hands have fashioned, sorest curst Yet holding still the First-born's Birthright j first In grandeur and in grief. Of old perplexed he stood And questioned much with things that did appear Of things that were, and for the unseen Good He sought 'mid present shows, but neither ear Was there, nor voice to give an answer clear ; So listening oft, O Thou Desired of all, To hear afar Thy coming footsteps fall, Thy shadow on the murky atmosphere Grew gross and palpable, and soon his sense Discerned not well if foe or friend were near ; While whirling, ringing still from sphere to sphere 286 THE RECONCILER. Of widening thought, went up his bitter cry Of " whence" and " why" and evermore this whence And why did clash together for reply. Until for aye to quell This battle, that had grown for him too sore To bring his foes to silence, and compel His doubtful friends to weary him no more, With changeful aspects and with frequent strife, Thou earnest suddenly : And first with Life Thou madest friends for us ; our lives in Thine Grow kind and gracious, Lord ! when Thou didst make Thy soul an offering for sin, Thy love Was even unto Death ; yea, far above, For Thou didst suffer Life for us !* to take More hard than to resign. And since this garment old And fretted by the moth Thy love hath borne Upon Thee, all that wear it in its fold With Thee enwrapt and gathered, have grown bold, * Note E. THE RECONCILER. 287 To Thee and to each other closer drawn ; Pale grows our purple pride Beside this vesture dyed In Kingly blood ; before our common name We feel our titles but a gorgeous shame, That doth betray, not clothe, our nakedness j But Heaven and Earth have been More near, since Earth hath seen Its God walk Earth as Man; since Heaven hath shown A Man upon its throne ; The street and market-place Grow holy ground ; each face, Pale faces, marked with care, Dark, toil-worn brows, grows fair ; King's children are these all ; though want and sin Have marred their beauty glorious within, We may not pass them but with reverent eye ; As when we see some goodly temple graced To be Thy dwelling, ruined and defaced, The haunt of sad and doleful creatures, lie Bare to the sky, and open to the gust, It grieveth us to see This House laid waste, It pitieth us to see it in the dust ! 288 THE RECONCILER. Our dreams are reconciled, Since Thou didst come to turn them all to Truth ; The World, the Heart are dreamers in their youth Of visions beautiful, and strange and wild ; And Thou, our Life's Interpreter, dost still At once make clear these visions and fulfil ; Each dim sweet Orphic rhyme, Each Mythic tale sublime Of strength to save, of sweetness to subdue, Each morning dream the few, Wisdom's first Lovers told, in stately speech, Within the porch, or underneath the beech, If read in Thee comes true ; And these did mock the other, saying, " See These dreamers," but in Thee Their speech is plain, their witnesses agree ; So doth Earth mock the heart's fond Faiths and rend Our idols from our failing grasp, and fling Dust, dust upon our altar-shrines, yet bring No worship in their place, but Thou, O Friend From Heaven, that madest this our heart Thine own, Dost pierce the broken language of its moan ; Thou dost not scorn our needs, but satisfy ! THE RECONCILER. 289 Each yearning deep and wide, Each claim is justified; Our young illusions fail not though they die Within the brightness of Thy Rising, kissed To happy death, like early clouds that lie About the gates of Dawn, a golden mist Paling to blissful white, through rose and amethyst. The World that puts Thee by, That opens not to greet Thee with Thy train, That sendeth after Thee the sullen cry, " We will not have Thee over us to reign ;" Itself doth testify, through searchings vain, Of Thee and of its need, and for the good It will not, of some base similitude Takes up a taunting witness, till its mood, Grown fierce o'er failing hopes, doth rend and tear Its own illusions, grown too thin and bare To wrap it longer ; for within the gate Where all must pass, a veiled and hooded Fate, A dark Chimera, coiled and tangled lies, And he who answers not its questions dies, Still changing form and speech, but with the same Vexed riddles, Gordian-twisted, bringing shame u 2QO THE RECONCILER. Upon the nations that with eager cry Hail each new solver of the mystery ; Yet he, of these the best, Bold guesser, hath but prest Most nigh to Thee, our noisy plaudits wrong ; True Champion, that hast wrought Our help of old, and brought Meat from this eater, sweetness from this strong. Oh, Bearer of the key That shuts and opens with a sound so sweet Its turning in the wards is melody, All things we move among are incomplete And vain until we fashion them in Thee ! We labour in the fire, Thick smoke is round about us, through the din Of words that darken counsel, clamours dire Ring from thought's beaten anvil, where within Two Giants toil, that even from their birth With travail-pangs have torn their mother Earth, And wearied out her children with their keen Upbraidings of the other, till between Thou earnest, saying, " Wherefore do ye wrong Each other ? ye are Brethren." Then these twain THE RECONCILER. 291 Will own their kindred, and in Thee retain Their claims in peace, because Thy land is wide As it is goodly ! here they pasture free, This lion and this leopard, side by side, A little child doth lead them with a song ; Now, Ephraim's envy ceaseth, and no more Doth Judah anger Ephraim chiding sore, For one did ask a Brother, one a King, So dost Thou gather them in one, and bring, Thou, King for evermore, for ever Priest, Thou, Brother of our own from bonds released, A Law of Liberty, A Service making free, A Commonweal, where each has all in Thee. And not alone these wide, Deep-planted yearnings, seeking with a cry Their meat from God, in Thee are satisfied ; But all our instincts waking suddenly Within the soul, like infants from their sleep, That stretch their arms into the dark and weep, Thy voice can still. The stricken heart, bereft Of all its brood of singing hopes, and left 'Mid leafless boughs a cold forsaken nest 292 THE RECONCILER. With snow-flakes in it, folded in. Thy breast Doth lose its deadly chill ; and grief that creeps Unto Thy side for shelter, finding there The wound's deep cleft, forgets its moan and weeps Calm quiet tears, and on Thy forehead Care Hath looked, until its thorns, no longer bare, Put forth pale roses. Pain on Thee doth press Its quivering cheek, and all the weariness, The want that keep their silence, till from Thee They hear the gracious summons, none beside Hath spoken to the world-worn, " Come to Me," Tell forth their heavy secrets. Thou dost hide These in Thy bosom, and not these alone, But all our heart's fond treasure that had grown A burden else : oh, Saviour, tears were weighed To Thee in plenteous measure ! none hath shown That Thou didst smile ! yet hast Thou surely made All joy of ours Thine own ; Thou madest us for Thine \ We seek amiss, we wander to and fro ; Yet are we ever on the track Divine ; THE RECONCILER. 293 The soul confesseth Thee, but sense is slow To lean on aught but that which it may see ; So hath it crowded up these Courts below With dark and broken images of Thee ; Lead Thou us forth upon Thy Mount, and show Thy goodly patterns, whence these things of old By Thee were fashioned ; One though manifold, Glass Thou thy perfect likeness in the soul, Show us Thy countenance, and we are WHOLE ! THE QUESTION. "Jesus saith to Simon Peter, Simon, son of Jonas, lovest thou Me more than these? He saith unto Him, Yea, Lord ; Thou knowest that I love Thee." JOHX xxi. 15. T ORD, didst Thou turn Thine eyes On me, and speak upon this solemn shore The words that wounded with a keen surprise Thine erring, loving servant, grieved the more That love, as doubtful of its own, should seek To put it thrice to proof; I could but speak With him ; I could but say, " Below, above, Thou knowest all, Thou knowest that I. love." THE QUESTION. 295 But canst thou say with Her, The Bride of ancient Song, " My soul hath found Him whom it only loveth ; wilt thou stir And quit Me now for these that stand around Am I more dear than these?" I answer, " Yea, Than each, than all more dear ! I could not stray From Thee, O Shepherd, skilled with silver sound Of voice and hand attuned, Thy flock to please, And lure them o'er the mountains, knowing best Beside what streams, beneath what spreading trees To solace them, to give their wanderings rest ; Why should I ever leave Thee ? which of these Hath charm so sure?" " Yet hast thou never feared To gaze on these around, lest they should grow Through fairness to thy soul too much endeared?" " Nay, this I fear not ; since I learned to know A truer fairness, lighting on the Rose That doth within its folded breast enclose All fragrance, being as the soul that glows In every other flower, I wander free About this earthly garden ; sweet to me 296 THE QUESTION. Its blooms and safe ! for they that of Thy wine Have tasted, will not from its strength decline For any meaner cup ! they love not Thee Enough, who fear that any else should be Too much beloved ! " So spake I, over bold, And knew not, Lord, that round Thy Tree of Life The serpent still doth twine with deadly fold ; I knew not then the thrice-refined gold Was thrid with baser clay ; that still the strife Goes on, till Death doth part 'twixt things accurst And things of blessing; severing best and worst That grow together easy still to miss And hard to win Thou knowest, Lord, of this, Thou only knowest, what are we to speak ? Yet, Thou hast spoken, " Blessed are the meek," And " they that mourn are blessed." I can touch This border of Thy garment ; now I know I love Thee, Lord, I will not let Thee go ; I will not ask, " Are these beloved too much ?" Too little, Lord ! because my heart is cold In loving Thee ! I make with one of old THE QUESTION. 297 This fervent prayer, Do Thou enlarge my coast And o'er it rule Thyself! where Thou art most Beloved, is room for all ! the heart grows wide That holdeth Thee ! a Heaven where none doth press Upon the other, none of more or less Doth ask solicitous, for ever there Is bread enough, and fulness still to spare, And none that come depart unsatisfied. FORSAKEN*. TV/T ARTYRS, through fire and steel Have felt the tracking of the steadfast eye Of faithful friend or kind disciple nigh That strengthened them ; beside the cruel wheel Hath Woman waited, wiping from a face Beloved, the damps of anguish ; kings in chase Upon the mountains held from day to day, Have leaned on peasants scorning to betray The baffled hope, the head discrowned : nay, A hand unseen upon a tyrant's tomb Hath scattered flowers ; so strong above disgrace, Despair, and death, rise human hearts ; of whom- King, Martyr, Malefactor is it said That all forsook him, all forsook andfled. FORSAKEN 7 . 299 Save of One only ? Human love forsakes, Yet is not all forsaken ! He that takes This drear pre-eminence of woe, alone Forsaketh never never ! He hath known That pang too well ; O Saviour, with Thine own Too little seemed it for Thy love to share All bitter draughts, so hast Thou bid this cup Pass from our souls for ever, drinking up Its wormwood and its gall, our lips to spare. THE LESSOX. T SAID, This task is keen- But even while I spake, Thou, Love Divine, Didst stand behind, and gently over-lean My drooping form, and, oh ! what task had been Too stern for feebleness with help of Thine ? Spell Thou this lesson with me line by line, The sense is rigid, but the voice is dear ; Guide Thou my hand within that hand of Thine Thy wounded hand ! until its tremblings take Strength from Thy touch, and even for Thy sake Trace out each character in outline clear. THE TWO RELIGIONS. HTHE heart is like the World, A dreamer, yea, a Pagan in its youth ; It takes its visions, being fair, for truth, And seeks no further ; loving best to brood In lonely thought, it throngs its solitude With wondrous shapes, it flings upon the air Its Shadow, worshipping before that fair And floating semblance ! caring but to please The noble and the beautiful, for these Its flowery altars shine ; it will not seek Communion with the baser crowd, in scorn It holds all lowly things, and for the weak It takes no thought ; THE TWO RELIGIONS. Yet hath this haughty creed Been found too narrow for its scope, too cold E'en for the soil that raised it ; in its need The spirit turns from it, as from its old Fond faiths the Earth revolted ; each hath tried, And each, grown weary, casts the broken chain Away, to greet a purer Worship, wide As is the world that it was made for, warm As Heaven that it was sent from ; it hath place For all, it gathers in a wide embrace Things disesteemed, it goeth forth to seek The things that none desire ; its words are meek Yet eloquent ; it loveth in the shade Of inner calm to muse, yet will not shun The Many, looking in the face of One Divine, yet like unto His brethren made ! LOVE. S~\ LOVE, thou goodly child, Though not its own, the World makes much of Thee ! Thou mindest me of him from out the wild Bulrushes drawn, and at a royal knee Brought up with songs and nurtured tenderly. Sweet songs are sung to thee, yet thou dost sing Far sweeter back, because the mystic bee Hives ever on thy lips, and Egypt's king And courtiers, failing of thy company, Would wearier grow of all their pageantry Than infants of their toys that for the moon Cry out. Yet thou thyself dost weary soon Of Egypt's hollow show, and being grown To thy full stature wilt no more disown 304 LOVE. Thy country and thy brethren ; them wilt turn To share their task-work, yet wilt not unlearn The precious lore of Egypt ; and the songs That Pharaoh's daughter taught thee wilt recall Full sweetly on thy harp of many strings Thou needest them, to plead thy people's wrongs Thy Master yet may send thee before Kings ! IN SADNESS. A CHILD in sickness left behind its mates Upon a summer holiday, from tears Refrains himself a little while, and waits Perchance in hope to see some comrade kind Come back to play with him ; but no ! he hears Their voices die away, and up the hill Now, thinks he, they are climbing, now they wind Along the hedgerow path, and now they find The berries that o'erhang it ; even now The red ripe nuts from off the hazel bough Are dropping fast, and then across the brook He hears them shouting to each other, through The alder-bushes. So his thoughts pursue Those wanderers on their way, until his look x 306 IN SADNESS. Steals wistful to the sunshine, and his book Drops from his hand ; what would he with that glad Free company ? too weary for their glee, Too weak to join their sports yet he is sad ; Then comes his mother, lifting tenderly Her darling on her knee, and all his day Glides peaceful on, though none come back to play. The house is very still ; none come between Their quiet talk, she smiles on him serene, He speaketh oft to her of those away : So, Father, I am left ! I will not mourn To follow after them, so I may be The closer to Thy heart ; so I am drawn Through stillness and through sadness nearer Thee ! THE SUMMONS. TV/TETHOUGHT from out the crowd a steadfast eye Did single out mine own ! a voice Divine Was borne within my soul, in tones that made Such depth of music there, the sense did fade Through sweetness that it kindled ; Lord, for Thine I knew the voice full well ! and yet I heard Of all Thou spakest then one only word ; My Name ! Thou calledst me ! I must prepare For Thee this day ! and wilt Thou come and share My Mid-day meal, while I with heart elate Shall wait on Thee, or wilt Thou rather wait On me, Thy servant ? through this noontide glare Thy Banner drawing tenderly, to spread 308 THE SUMMONS. An early dusk that I may lay my head The sooner at Thy supper on Thy breast ? It matters little, Lord ! or come or send Take Thou my spirit hence, or like a Friend Make Thou thy home within it, I am blest. PAX IN NOVISSIMO. " He gave her therewith a sure token that he was a true messenger, and was come to bid her make haste to be gone. The token was an arrow, sharpened with love, let easily into her heart ; so Christiana knew that her time was come." "\T OT like the rulers of our vanities At earthly feasts art Thou, O Love Divine ; These pour their best at first, and still decline At each full-flowing draught, till only lees Of bitterness remain, but Thou dost please To keep unto the last Thy richest wine. And now this grace-cup, crowned with flowers, o'erflows To meet my lips, the music never fell More sweet, yet from the banquet, ere its close, I rise to bid the company farewell ; I see no sign, I hear no warning bell. PAX IN NOV1SSIMO. No airy tongue my Summoner hath been, Yet all my soul by cords invisible Is drawn the surer unto One unseen ; For oh, my Father ! whom I have desired By night, and sought for early, not through Man Or Angel have I at Thy voice inquired Since first my solemn quest for Thee began ; Thee, only Thee my spirit hath required For Teacher and for Counsellor and Friend ; So now Thou needest me, Thou dost not send By any other, but within the shade Thy awful Presence makes, ere yet the fall Of evening darkens, I can hear Thee call, " Come home, my child ! " and I am not afraid ; Though oft Thou showedst me a brow austere, And oft Thy lessons, hard to understand, Were grievous to me, now Thou drawest near I see Thy smile,* I do not feel Thy hand. And He, our Brother kind, Wounded and grieved by us, yet waiting where He passed before our Mansions to prepare, Made Himself strange at first ; I did not find * Note F. PAX IN NOVISSIMO. An instant welcome ; oft with speech severe He questioned me, and oft methought His ear Was turned away, but now I feel His tear Upon my cheek, His kiss upon my soul ; He biddeth all withdraw, while with His Own He talketh : " How is this, Thou hast not known Thy Brother? I am Joseph," now no more Doth Love refrain itself because its goal Is well-nigh won, and all its trial sore O'erpast, it leaveth with a brow serene The secret Chamber where so oft unseen It wept before ; For ofttimes Love must grieve ; For us content and willing to be sad, It left the Halls wherein they made it glad, And came to us that grieved it ! oft below It hides its face because it will not show The stain upon it ! now I feel its clear Full shining eyes upon me, and I know Soon I shall meet the kiss without the tear ! For all my life grows sweet, I know not how to name it ; from behind 312 PAX IN NOVISSIMO. Comes up a murmur voluble and fleet Of mingling voices, some were harsh, some kind, But all are tuned to gentleness, the wind That bears them onwards hath so soft a wing, As if it were a Dove unused to bring Aught but a loving message ; so Earth sends One only question on it from the track Where I have passed, "Friends, friends? we part as friends?" And all my soul takes up and sendeth back One word for echo and for answer, " Friends." And, oh, how fair this Earth I leave ! methinks of old I never took Account of half its loveliness and worth ; Yea ! oft I mourned because I could not look More deep within the pages of this Book, God's glorious Book shut in between the eves And glowing morns, I read betwixt the leaves Like one that passes hastily, and failed To catch its import ; yet hath One prevailed To loose its golden clasps, and on her knee He biddeth Nature lift me tenderly, And read thereout her Fairy tales, and tell PAX IN NOVISSIMO. 313 Where lie her treasures guarded with a spell She takes me to her heart, she will not hold A secret from me now ! things new and old She brings to please me. Yet, as if she knew A loving nurse that soon her child must sleep, And waken in a land where all things keep Their first simplicity she doth renew Her forms that charmed me earliest ; With the dew Still hanging round them, well I know these flowers She holds before me ; through the noontide hours I looked not on their hues ; they did not burst To gorgeous life, like some that I have nursed, Shut from the ruder air, until they caught Through each broad leaf a colouring of thought, And spake a symbol-language too intense, The while each lamp-lit urn Did glow and spread and burn Its heart away in odours, till the sense Waxed faint through fragrance ; not like these of bold Magnificence, nor dearer flowers that grew Familiar by my path, with whom of old I talked so secretly, it seemed we drew 314 PAX IN NOVISSIMO. A common breath, until methought they took A human aspect, and like friends that know Too much the heart's deep history, their look Hath oft-times troubled me ; But these did blow For me in meadows wide, ere yet I knew That flowers were charactered with joy or grief; Ye hid no secret in your folded leaf, Flowers innocent and cool That hung above the pool, Or thrid with gold the pleasant pastures through ; I learnt no "Ai, Ai" in your school, Quaint orchis, speedwells blue, And slender cups that grew Deep in the woods, pale purple-veined and brimming o'er with dew ! I see the quiet glade Slope sunward, shut among its hills that lie With light upon their brows ; I hear the cry Of wheeling rooks, the little brook goes by And lifts a hurrying voice as one afraid To linger on its way ; within the shade PAX IN NOVISSIMO. 315 Moss-cushioned now I sit, where once my day Cast all its wealth of Summer hours away Upon a book of Marvels ; sunbeams hid Among the boughs came trickling down, and slid From page to page to light me on my way ; The charm that fled, the glory that forsook Flow back upon my spirit ; I am glad Of ye, sweet scenes, sweet thoughts ! I know the look Ye turn upon me, it hath nothing sad ; Long, long ago, yet not through blame of mine, I left you far behind me on my track, Now flits the shadow on Life's Dial back, Twice ten degrees to find you ! things Divine Are imaged by the earthly, it was meet That I should gather in my soul these sweet, Long-parted childish fancies, ere I go Where none but children enter ; Even so ; I sleep at noon ; all household noises cease, No voices call me from without ; the room Is hushed and darkened round me ; through the gloom One friend beloved keeps moving to and fro With step so quiet, oft I only know Her presence by her gentle breathing, Peace ! A MEDITATION. " I believe in the Communion of Saints." T^HE World doth love its own, Doth praise its own, doth keep their memories young; Where warrior once hath bled, where poet sung, Time's dust may never gather, hill and stream Catch up heroic echoes, and the lone Vaucluse still murmurs of the music thrown Around it by one fervid Lover's dream. The World doth love its own, But unto you that loved it, hath it proved It was not worthy of ye ! little loved Or loved amiss, how hard hath been your lot ! A MEDITATION. 317 Followed with worship that ye had disclaimed, And warned each suppliant, " See thou do it not," Or like to cherished friends that on its throne The heart hath lifted, till too rudely blamed For overprizing, it hath grown ashamed, And taken from them that which was their own, So are ye little treasured, coldly named, Remembered with vain honours, or forgot ! And ours hath been the loss : Our silence grieves you not, our erring praise Perchance doth never reach you where you raise Your fuller, sweeter song to Him whose brow Doth wear the Many Crowns upon it, " Thou Art only worthy, Thou who art our Praise." Yes ! ours hath been the loss, For ye are ours ! the lives ye held not dear Were given for us ! strong champions of the Cross, Who went before us in God's faith and fear, Your blood makes rich our heritage ; no tear Of yours but lies upon it still like dew, No word of yours but yet hath power to cheer Ye have not need of us, but we of you ! 318 A MEDITATION. And oh, Beloved ones, my lips are fain To speak of you ! this heart of mine so long Hath communed with you, they may not refrain To pay you honour in a guileless song; I will not fear to do the Master wrong In praising you, His servants, whom, unseen, I love in Him. As oft a stranger's mien Grows sudden dear through summoning the face Of friend beloved, so have I joyed to trace Your features back to His, and in the tone Ye use, a sweeter voice hath still been known ; Nor read I blame within their ardent eyes, Our elder, stronger Brethren of the skies, That unto me their names, their effigies Have been less dear than yours, who did not move About your work with them* whose feet of flame Upon their Master's errand went and came As in the lightning flash ; with footsteps slow And wearied oft, kind ministers ! ye went About this lower House of His, intent On humblest household tasks, and for the sake Of this great family, with care opprest, That it might fare the sweeter, ye did wake * Ezekiel i. I 4 . A MEDITATION. 319 Betimes, and watch that it might safer rest. Ye wore not then the Halo on your brow,* But bound on rugged paths, where once of old Your Master toiled, where toil your brethren now, Ye had not Angels for your mates, but cold Dull hearts were round you, that within your own Ye warmed, till oft their chillness deadly grown Hath made your hands, hath made your bosoms ache ! For oft, methinks, true Lovers ! loved the less For more abundant loving, bitterness Was wrung within your cup while ye did strain Thereout your balms of healing ; yea, the Vine Was bruised within your souls to make them wine That trampled down its tendrils ! yet this pain Ye took in meekness, nor of outward foe Made much account that knew a subtler foe, A sorer strife, a plague-spot lying bare To one loved eye, and fain ye would be fair To meet that only eye ; so, faint yet still Pursuing, oft ye look unto the hill, From thence expecting aid, and not in vain. Now have ye reached the Mount of God ! no stain Lies on your robes, and all your faces shine * Note G. 320 A MEDITATION. As shone they never here, while yet in frail Coarse vessels all your heaven-won treasure lay, While oft the light within would pale and pine Because the lamp that bore it was of clay Now, far behind the shrouding veil, your way Leads on from grace to grace, and yet you say, " Here it is good to be:" of this your state We know not now, but this still doth appear ; Though none have left the chambers where ye wait To tell us if their light be dark or clear, And he who looked upon you there, the Seer Beloved, hath spoken little, if ye wake Or sleeping, where you take your solemn rest Yet hath a voice from Heaven proclaimed you surely blest ! And if ye wake or sleep, Or wrapt yet conscious in a Calm between That stealeth not on Earth, ye lie serene, Doth matter little solemn, sweet and deep Must be your rest with Him whose eyelids keep Their watch above, for He can bless in sleep His own beloved ones ; A MEDITATION. 321 But is there prayer Within your quiet Homes, and is there care For those ye leave behind ? I would address My spirit to this theme in humbleness : No tongue nor pen hath uttered or made known This mystery, and thus I do but guess At clearer types through lowlier patterns shown ; Yet when did Love on earth forsake its own?* Ye may not quit your sweetness, in the Vine More firmly rooted than of old, your wine Hath freer flow ! ye have not changed, but grown To fuller stature ; parting hath but shown True hearts their hidden riches, friend to friend More clear revealing, what is Death to rend The ties of life and love, when He must fade In light of very Life, when He must bend To Love, that loving, loveth to the end ? I do not deem ye look Upon us now, for be it that your eyes Are sealed or clear, a burden on them lies Too deep and blissful for their gaze to brook Our troubled strife \ enough that once ye dwelt * Note H. Y 322 4 MEDITATION. Where now we dwell, enough that once ye felt As now we feel, to bid you recognize Our claim of kindred cherished though unseen ; And Love that is to you for eye and ear Hath ways unknown to us to bring you near, To keep you near for all that comes between ; As pious souls that move in sleep to prayer, As distant friends, that see not, and yet share (I speak of what I know) each other's care, So may your spirits blend with ours ! above Ye know not haply of our state, yet Love Acquaints you with our need, and through a way More sure than that of knowledge so ye pray ! And even thus we meet, And even thus we commune ! spirits freed And spirits fettered mingle, nor have need To seek a common atmosphere; the air Is meet for either in this olden, sweet, Primeval breathing of Man's spirit Prayer ! And now your prayers are free, Not hindered oft, as in this field below, By One himself uriblest, that envieth so A MEDITATION. 323 The bonds of Brotherhood he may not know, He joys to fling a seed of enmity 'Twixt very friends ; with anxious hearts, with hands That rested not, ye wrought in scattered bands Apart ; intent upon your work, a word Would reach you from the distance, faintly heard, That moved to anger ; yet the speech that vexed The sorest, often was but Love perplext To find one common tongue ; but now the sun Hath fallen on you, all your task is done j Ye sit within the House with One whose kind Prevailing counsels bring unto one mind Its inmates, making brethren to agree, And oft ye marvel that ye did not find Each other sooner, soul in soul doth see One kindred image shine, no longer -dim Through contact of its gold with baser clay The fruit is ripe, its husks have dropt away, And ye are only what ye were in Him ! Oh ! Virgin Lilies rayed With light and loveliness, that did declare His perfect beauty here, that grew so fair 324 A MEDITATION. By only gazing on Him ! from the shade Where God hath planted me I have essayed To reach unto your sunshine ! though you keep Your silence even from good words, I miss No sign of greeting, nor have need of kiss For sealing of our love ; for this is clear, That ye are near me when I draw most near To Him in Whom we meet : I see you shine In Christ, as once I marked above a shrine By midnight clear, yet moonless, pictured fair A Virgin Mother in a lowly place Bend o'er a sleeping Infant ; full of grace His brow and lip ; with gifts and odours rare Came Kings adoring, lowly Shepherds there Rejoicing knelt, and all the canvas dim Was crowded up behind with Seraphim In goodly ranks ; yet Mother maid serene, Sage Seraph, lowly Shepherd, all were seen By Light that streamed from out the Babe Divine ! LATER POEMS. A FAREWELL TO YOUTH. A MIDSUMMER DAY'S DREAM. HTHOU fair and hurrying guest ! O Youth, in tears half-drowned, And half with roses crowned ! Thou sweetness unpossessed ! I pine not for the sound Of thy swift wings, thy sighs, Thy whispers, nor thine eyes' Soft, silent language seek, that sent around So many a glance, caressing and caressed ; Nor grieve I for thy song, Glad, sad, and sweet, so long Remembered, though its cadence broke so soon A fond farewell, O Youth, I take of thee ! thy truth 328 A FAREWELL TO YOUTH. Was sweet, and e'en thy falsehood scarce beguiled ; For thou, thyself a child, Believing, hoping, loving, didst receive And give with equal hand, and sweetly keep And sweetly break thy troth, and wake and sleep In peace through every change, unchilled, ungrieved ; Thy Waking and thy Dream So sweet, so close did seem, That thou wert blest, deceiving or deceived. And thou wouldst not remain To hear reproachings vain ; A print upon the grass, a line between The rustling boughs of sudden-parted green, And thou wert gone for ever ! Truly fled ? I know not yet ! methinks within my heart Thou hidest still thy bright unsheltered head, And dost remain, for evermore a part Of all things fair, and from the violet's eye Thy smile looks up, thy breath goes wandering by In many a wild, warm, briery-scented sigh, Linked with all lovely things that change and cannot die! A FAREWELL TO YOUTH. 329 So come and go, dear Youth, I will not chide with thee ! for now the mist Hath rolled all up the glittering hills sun-kissed, And broad around me stretch the woods, the plains ; And still the landscape widens, still the sky Bends over all with broad, unwinking eye, Above, an equal blue, an equal green Below, and nought is hidden ! all is seen And all is known ! But now methinks the lanes Grow white and dusty, and no flower remains With brimming cup, no descant wild and shrill Of all that morn and eve were wont to thrill My listening ear ; the reapers work in bands, But all is silent : where are now the hands That sought for mine, the dances light and free ? The tales that seemed beginning still to be, And pausing woke again, and still were sweet to me ? But now upon the clear Calm summer air, I hear, Far on the silence borne, a distant strain ; A tune that gives and takes, That hushes while it wakes, That loosens while it binds a gentle chain : 330 A FAREWELL TO YOUTH. So sweetly on the sense It falls, I ask not whence It comes, nor know I whither goes that tune More soft than summer dews Most like a hand that wooes An arrow forth and while I listen, seems Far off and faint, like music heard in dreams, . To change and fade each dim, half-shrouded pain ; Each fond regret, each care Is fled ; oh, tell me where, Dear Shepherd, Thou dost feed Thy flocks at noon ? Oh, tell me in what still Fair meadows at Thy will Thou leadest them ? by what glad streamlet's flow ? Perchance upon the rocks Thou sittest now, Thy flocks With reedy murmurs soothing, while the low Soft summer winds reply ; or by the Well Thou sittest now, perchance, as once befell When Thou wert wearied with the noontide glare. Oh, long-beloved, let me find Thee there, And there with Thee abide ; the shadows soon Will fall and darken o'er these pathways wide ; A FAREWELL TO YOUTH. 331 Oh, let me be no more as one aside That turns unwilling ! by Thy tents I dwell, Thy dear companions know me ! Shepherd, tell, Where dost Thou make Thy flocks to rest at noon? THE WHITE CRUSADE ITALY, 1860. " And the earth helped the woman." REV. xii. 16. T ONG, long the foot of pride Trode down the human heart from hour to hour With iron heel, and ever on the side Of tyrants there was power ; Till, seventy summers back, A Cry went up by night to God for food ; A raven's cry, a lion's, on the track Of rapine and of blood ; And Freedom at the sound Stirred where she lay within her grave for dead, And rose up from the earth, and gazed around Like one disquieted. THE WHITE CRUSADE. 333 As one that hath been dead Four days, she rose up from her grave ; she woke Fast bound with grave-clothes, hands, and feet, and head; Yet when she rose she spoke : Like Lazarus from the tomb She rose, and stood upright ; like him a while She walked with men, yet on her cheek no bloom, And on her lip no smile. As one that sleeping shakes Beneath a ghastly slumber-coil, will seem To wake at dead of night, yet only wakes Into a fearful dream ; She woke into a world Of wreck and ruin ; winds and waves that roared, Men's hearts that failed, and goodliest treasures hurled To monsters overboard. They called her, but she shrank ; She stretched her hands to bless, and, lo ! a stain Of blood upon each palm ! She groaned, and sank Into her grave again. 334 THE WHITE CRUSADE. Yet 'mid the tumult fierce That gathered as she fell, was faintly heard From fainting lips a blessing or a curse And yet a treasured word ; And still from land to land The whisper grew, and still the murmur sped By look, by sign, by pressure of the hand, " The maiden is not dead." Till every heart that knew A stronger beat, that shook a looser chain, Caught up the word, until its meaning grew From hour to hour more plain. And some would watch for hours Beside her tomb, until they seemed to hear, Beneath the winter's ice, the summer's flowers, A breathing low and clear. The nations spake : " But who .Shall roll away this heavy stone, by day And night close sealed and watched ?" They came, and lo ! The stone was rolled away ! THE WHITE CRUSADE. 335 And clothed in raiment white From head to feet, was seated on the stone A Shining Form, that earth had given to light Without a travail-groan. No blood on brow or palm, Or on her robe, but in her steadfast eye, And on her lips, a summons clear and calm : " Who loves, knows how to die" The swords of friends and foes Are crossed before her breast ; her breast is bare, And bare her feet, and on the way she goes Lies the red burning share. She wakes, perchance to show Of wounds received in houses of her friends, to weep, Like Rachel, o'er her sons brought forth in woe, YET NEVER MORE TO SLEEP ! THE CLEFT. 1861. " Hamlet, thou hast cleft my heart in twain " Oh, throw away the worser part of it, And live the purer with the other half." T^HE skies have voices soft And loud, they mutter oft, Dissolve and break in tears of joy and wonder ; More fierce the shock, the din More harsh, when from within Earth shakes, self-torn, and riven with secret thunder ; And now a ghastly cleft Yawns wide from right to left, And sucks and draws the Western World within it ; What voice, what arm uplift This dire encroaching rift May close with sovereign spell ? and how begin it ? THE CLEFT. 337 In such a gulf of old The Roman flung, not gold, But Youth's heroic hope and Strength's endeavour ; Yet this one of the best Hath ta'en, and for the rest Still craves, unclosed, insatiate, widening ever. Say, will ye smoothe it over, And bid the maid and lover Dance here away their light-linked hours of leisure ? Yea, smoothe it over, sow it With grass and flowers ; below it Are sounds that mingle strangely with the measure. Or, leaning o'er its edges, Now will ye barter pledges With clasping hands, and talk of hearts combining, Or plant the rootless tree Within it LIBERTY, Hung round with garlands and with ribbons shining ? The jagged cleft from side To side yawns yet more wide ; 338 THE CLEFT. And Echo from within, your words recalling, Hath sent from out the ground The yet more hollow sound Of loosened earth upon a coffin falling. Then let it yawn to sever The Bond and Free for ever : Than Falsehood's hectic flush of vain relying, On Freedom's cheek more fair The glow of health, though there Across it broad and deep a scar be lying ! Yea, let the sword pierce through This tangle, and undo The knot that doth but harder twist for friction : Oh, seek not now to bind What God hath loosed ! no kind Espousals these, but fettered, galled constriction. When life meets life with kiss Of rapture strong, oh ! this Is union, this is strength ; then leave the dying With Death their troth to plight, In charnel vaults by night, 'Mid dead men's bones and all uncleanness lying. THE CLEFT. 339 There leave them ! let the wide, Deep chasm still divide 'Twixt Night and Day, 'twixt Light and Darkness,- know That greater than the whole Is now the part ; the soul Is nobler than the body, let them go ! THE SATURDAY REVIEW. " T EARN to live, and live and learn," In the days when I used to go to school, Would always pass for an excellent rule ; But now it's grown a serious concern The number of things I've had to ////learn Since first I began the page to turn Of The Saturday Review. For once (I believe) I believed in truth And love, and the hundred foolish things ( )ne sees in one's dreams and believes in one's youth In Angels with curls, and in Angels with wings, In Saints, and Heroes, and Shepherds too ; The pictures that David and Virgil drew So sweetly, I thought were taken THE SATURDAY REVIEW. 341 From very life, but now I find A Shepherd is but an uncouth Hind, Songless, soulless, from time out of mind, Who has cared for nothing but bacon. And though to confess it may well seem strange, When I had them by scores and dozens (I was young, to be sure, and all things change), I really have liked my cousins, And schoolfellows too, and can bring to mind Some uncles of mine who were truly kind, And aunts who were far from crusty ; And even my country neighbours too Didn't seem by half such a tedious crew As now I find they must be. And I used to think it might be kind. In the world's great marching order, To help the poor stragglers left behind, Halt and maimed, and broken and blind, On their way to a distant border ; Not to speak of the virtuous poor, I thought There was here and there a sinner 342 THE SATURDAY REVIEW. Might be mended a little, though not of the sort One would think of asking to dinner. But now I find that no one believes In Ragged Children, or Penitent Thieves, Or Homeless Homes, but a few Old Maids Who have tried and failed at all other trades, And who take to these things for recreation In their aimless life's dull Long Vacation. And so as we're going along with the Priest And Levite (the roads are more dry in the East) We need have no hesitation, When the mud is lying about so thick, To scatter a little and let it stick To the coat of the Good Samaritan, used To be spattered, battered, blackened, and bruised ; These sort of people don't mind it the least Why, bless you, it's their vocation ! Yet sometimes I've thought it a little strange, When good people get such very hard change, In return for their kindly halfpence, When the few who are grieved for sorrows and sins Are bowled to the earth like wooden pins, THE SATURDAY REVIEW. 343 When to care for the heathen, or pity the slave, Sets a man down for fool or knave, With The Saturday in its sapience, Things that are mean and base and low Are checked by never a word or blow ; The gaping crowds that go in hope To see Blondin slip from the cruel rope Tightened or slack, and come away In trust of more luck another day, Meet never a line's reproving ; Heenan and Sayers may pound and thwack Each other blue and yellow and black, And only get a pat on the back From the power that keeps all moving. And I sometimes think, if this same Review, And the world a little longer too Should last, will the violets come out blue ? Will the rose be red, and will lovers woo In the foolish way that they used to do ? Will doves in the summer woodlands coo, And the nightingales mourn without asking leave ? Will the lark have an instinct left to cleave 344 THE SATURDAY REVIEW. The sunny air with her song and her wing ? Perhaps we may move to abolish spring ; And now that we've grown so hard to please, We may think that we're bored by the grass and the trees ; The moon may be proved a piece of cheese, Or an operatic delusion. Fathers and Mothers may have to go, Brothers and Sisters be voted slow, Christmas a tax that one's forced to pay, And Heaven itself but an out-of-the-way Old-fashioned place that has had its day, That one wouldn't a residence choose in. And though so easily learnt, and brief Is the form our new faith's put in, When we've said, " I believe in a Round of Beef, And live by a Leg of Mutton," We come to another region of facts, That are met quite as well by the Gospel and Acts As by any teaching that's newer Life has its problems hard to clear, And its knots too stiff to be cut by the sneer Of the sharpest, smartest Reviewer. October, 1863. A DIALOGUE. IN 1863. '' "\X7ELL, what news have you got to-day, neigh- bour?" : 'Why, the Prince is going to be wed To the Princess Royal of Denmark." " Ay, so I hear it is said, And she'll be a grand young lady, there's no doubt at all; but you see I never set eyes on the Prince in my life, and he knows nought about me." "And what other news have you got, neighbour?" " Oh terrible news : abroad The great Garibaldi's taken and wounded." "Was he some Lord 346 A DIALOGUE. Or King ? But I know so little of these people beyond the sea, They seem to be always fighting, it's a pity they can- not agree." "Why, then, if you come to fighting, the Yankees are at it still, As hard as ever they were at the first." " Well, they must then, if they will. I suppose they're a sort of cousins of ours ; but then they're so very far Removed, that it doesn't much matter to us how long they go on with the war." " Now there you are out for once, neighbour, for it's neither more nor less Than their keeping up of this war so long that's caus- ing our great distress. They've given up growing their cotton, and sending us any to spin, And that's the way things keep going wrong, you see, when once they begin. A DIALOGUE. 347 " You're not a reader like me, neighbour, or you wouldn't soon forget The things that they tell in the papers; my word, but they're sharply set In Lancashire now ; and it's my belief, that if things don't soon work through They'll be taking to dying off pretty fast, if they've nothing else left them to do. "Why now, how would you like it, neighbour? I think you would look rather blank If you hadn't a shilling left in the house, nor a guinea left in the Bank, If first you'd to part with your silver watch, and then with your handsome clock, And then with your quilt, and blankets, and bed, till at last you came to the stock ! " Until when you looked about your room there was nothing to see at all But just a table, perhaps, and a chair, and the roof and the floor and the wall. 348 A DIALOGUE. And how would you like to sell your best black coat that you've worn so long ? Or your wife to have to go out and pawn her good Sunday cloak for a song?" " I shouldn't like it at all, neighbour ; and as to my wife, why she \Vould take on, perhaps, if all were known, a great deal worse than me." " And then when there's nothing to do, you see, there's always so little to eat ; And only think of the children, neighbour, how they must be missing their meat ! " Now there's that curly Jem of yours, that likes nothing he gets so well As what he gets with his granny and you, as I've heard you so often tell, That just when you're sitting down to your meat he's sure to come peeping in, You wouldn't like it so well, neighbour, to see him growing thin." A DIALOGUE. 349 " I shouldn't like it at all, neighbour, I tell you, but where's the good Of talking when folks are starving ? sure I'd help them if I could." " Well, there's nothing so easy as that, neighbour, you haven't got far to send It's only like taking a bit of your dinner across to an ailing friend." " Why, not quite so easy as that, neighbour, for if things are as bad as you say, It's little to better them that we can do by giving them once in a way." " Well, giving them once in a way perhaps would corns rather short ; but then There is nothing to stop us, that I can see, from giving them once and again." " Why that's very pretty talk, neighbour, but then to be always giving Doesn't come quite so easy to folks like us that have to work hard for our living." 350 A DIALOGUE. " Well, as to the matter of that, neighbour, if \ve haven't got much to spare There'll just be the less to send, but still we may always have something to share. " We might all of us give far more than we do, with- out being a bit the worse ; It was never yet loving that emptied the heart, or giving that emptied the purse. We must be like the woman our Saviour praised, and do but the best we can." "Ay, that'll be just the plan, neighbour, that'll be just the plan." A SONG TO CALL TO REMEMBRANCE. A Plea for the Coventry Ribbon-Weavers. T HEARD a little maiden sing, "What can the matter be " ? A simple song, a merry song, yet sad it seemed to me, " Oh, my love is coming from the town, he is coming from the Fair, And he will bring me ribbons blue to tie my bonny hair ! " O lasses fair, that love to wear O lads, that love to see The ribbons bright, the ribbons rare what can the matter be ? 352 A SONG TO CALL TO REMEM1U At Christmas tide, when all beside are merry and are glad, How many English hearts are sore, how many homes are sad ! The looms are stopped, the hands are still that wrought the ribbons gay; When anxious fathers have no work the children dare not play ; No cheerful noise around the board ; oh ! little to prepare ! The mother's work is quickly o'er, but not the mother's care ! And all is dull and all is chill within the humble room; Beside his black and tireless hearth, beside his idle loom, The poor man sits from day to day in garments worn and thin, And sees the homely comforts go he toiled so hard to win. A SONG TO CALL TO REMEMBRANCE. 353 The icicle hangs on the eaves, and silent as a stone All Nature lies in sleep or death, chilled through unto the bone ; The earth below is white and cold, the skies are cold and grey, The grave seems very near, and Heaven seems very far away. Oh sad and short the wintry day, oh sad and long the night, When in the heart there is no hope, and in the house no light, No fire, no food ! yet goodly gifts, yet words of Chris- tian cheer, Can make the grave seem farther off, can make the heavens more near. Ye merry hearts, that meet to laugh and dance the hours away, Ye gentle hearts, that better love in sheltered homes to pray, Think on the homes whose Christmas guests are only Want and Care, Think on the hearts too sad for mirth, too sad per- chance for prayer ; 2 A 354 A SONG TO CALL TO REMEMBRANCE. For Want and Care are dreary mates, and where they enter in There Love should follow after quick, for Discontent and Sin Without the door are knocking loud oh ! keep them waiting there, And hold at bay the prowling wolf of savage, gaunt despair ! A little while and skies will clear that now are over- cast; Our ship that rides 'mid heavy seas will right itself at last; Come, loving hearts, come, open hands, with bounty warm and wide, Come, lend our struggling friends a lift, till the turning of the tide. January 10, 1861. A NATIONAL SONG. /^\ F flowers that bloom in gardens fair, that bloom in meadows free, I had my choice of all that blow, and I chose me only three j But I must have them all or none ! the first one that I chose Was Queen of all the flowers that be, the red, the royal Rose ! The Rose that blooms upon the rock, and lets the salt sea-spray Drift over her, nor asks if this be anger or be play ; She bows not down her stately head for any breeze that blows, She smiles in kindness on her friends, in pride upon her foes. 356 A NATIONAL SONG. A lion watches by her root, and all her gallant stem Is set with thorns, ah, woe betide the hand that touches them ! But deep within the rose's heart, in many a silken fold Wrapt round, a costly treasure lies of fragrance and of gold. Then lone and free, on hill and lea, unguarded yet unharmed, All green I saw the Thistle grow that groweth ready armed, She flings her arrowy seeds afar to thrive where'er they fall, Oh grasp the hardy thistle close, or grasp her not at all! Oh love the thistle well, for she will love thee to the end, For scorching sun she will not droop, for storm she will not bend ; How fair upon the thistle's head her purple-tasselled crown, And oh,! within the thistle's heart, how soft and warm the down ! A NATIONAL SONG. 357 Yet must I farther on to seek a flower that loves the West; I only found a little leaf, with mystic signs imprest ; " Hast thou no flower ? " I sadly said, " and hast thou nought to show But this thy high and heavenward hope, but this thy patient woe"? "Yet saints have loved thee, fairies danced across thee at thy birth, And thine are gifts that suit with joy, and gifts that suit with mirth ; Shine on, green leaf, to kindly Trust, to Wit, to Valour dear, And still let Erin's smile be ours, though smiling through a tear." Of flowers that bloom in gardens fair, that blow in meadows free, Now have I had my choice of all, and I have chosen three ; I would not live, I would not die, I would not sing for one, I love them all so well that I must have them all or none ! A CHRISTMAS CAROL. 1863. T F ye would hear the Angels sing " Peace on earth and mercy mild," Think of Him who was once a child, On Christmas-Day in the morning. If ye would hear the Angels sing, Christians ! see ye let each door Stand wider than ever it stood before, On Christmas-Day in the morning. Rise, and open wide the door ; Christians, rise ! the world is wide, And ma?iy there be that stand outside, Yet Christmas comes in the morning. A CHRISTMAS CAROL. 359 If ye would hear the Angels sing, Rise and spread your Christmas fare ; Tis merrier still the more that share, On Christmas-Day in the morning. Rise, and bake your Christmas bread; Christians rise ! the world is bare, And bleak, and dark with want and care, Yet Christmas comes in the morning. If ye would hear the Angels sing, Rise and light your Christmas fire ; And see that ye pile the logs still higher, On Christmas-Day in the morning. Rise, and light your Christmas fire; Christians, rise / the world is old, And Time is weary, and worn, and cold, Yet Christmas comes in the morning. If ye would hear the Angels sing, Rise and spice your wassail bowl With warmth for body, and heart, and soul, On Christmas-Day in the morning. 360 A CHRISTMAS CAROL. Spice it warm, and spice it strong, Christians ) rise ! the world is grey. And rough is the road, and short is the day, Yet Christmas comes in the morning. If ye would hear the Angels sing, Christians ! think on Him who died ; Think of your Lord, the Crucified, On Christmas-Day in the morning. GO AND COME. 'T'HOU sayest to us, " Go, And work while it is called to-day ; the sun Is high in heaven, the harvest but begun ; Can hands oft raised in prayer, can hearts that know The beat of Mine through love and pain be slow To soothe and strengthen?" still Thou sayest " Go ; Lift up your eyes and see where now the Line Of God hath fallen for you, one with Mine Your Lot and Portion. Go, where none relieves, Where no one pities, thrust the sickle in And reap and bind, where toil and want and sin Are standing white, for here My harvests grow : Go, glean for Me 'mid wasted frames outworn, 'Mid souls uncheered, uncared for ; hearts forlorn, 362 GO AND COME. With care and grief acquainted long, unknown To earthly friend, of Heaven unmindful grown ; In homes where no one loves, where none believes, For here I gather in my goodly sheaves ;" Thou sayest to us, " Go." Thou sayest to us, " Go To conflict and to death ;" while friends are few And foes are many, what hast Thou to do With peace, Thou Son of Peace ? A man of war Art Thou from Youth ! when Thou dost girded ride, Two stern instructors, Truth and Mercy, guide Thy hand to things of terror ; friends and foes Thine arrows feel ; a sword before Thee goes, And after Thee a fire, confusion stirred Among the nations even by the word Of Meekness and of Right ; " Yea, take and eat Of these my words," Thou sayest, " they are sweet As honey ; yet this roll that now I press Upon your lips will turn to bitterness When ye shall speak its message ; lo, a cry Of wrath and madness, ere the ancient Lie That wraps the roots of earth will quit its hold, A shriek, a wrench abhorred ; and yet be bold, GO AND COME. 363 Oh, ye my servants ! take my rod and stand Before the King, nor fear if in your hand It seem unto a serpent's form to grow ; Rise up, my Priests ! my Mighty Men, with sound Of solemn trumpet, walk this city round, A blast will come from God, His word and will Through hail, and storm, and ruin, to fulfil ; Then shall ye see the Towers roll down, the Wall Built up with blood, and tears, and tortures, fall, And from the Living Grave the living Dead Will rise, as from their sleep disquieted ; O Earth, this Baptism of thine is slow ! Not dews from morning's womb, not gentle rains That drop all night can wash away thy stains. The fire must fall from Heaven ; the blood must flow All round the Altar ;" still Thou sayest, " Go." And that Thou sayest, " Go," Our hearts are glad ; for he is still Thy friend And best beloved of all, Whom Thou dost send The farthest from Thee ; this Thy servants know ; Oh, send by whom Thou wilt, for they are blest Who go Thine errands ! Not upon Thy breast We learn Thy secrets ! Long beside Thy tomb s 364 GO AND COME. We wept, and lingered in the Garden's gloom ; And oft we sought Thee in Thy House of Prayer And in the Desert, yet Thou wert not there ; But as we journeyed sadly through a place Obscure and mean, we lighted on the trace Of Thy fresh footprints, and a whisper clear Fell on our spirits, Thou Thyself wert near ; And from Thy servants' hearts Thy name adored Brake forth in fire ; we said, " It is the Lord." Our eyes were no more holden ; on Thy face We looked, and it was comely ; full of grace, And fair Thy lips ; we held Thee by the feet, We listened to Thy voice, and it was sweet, And sweet the silence of our spirits ; dumb All other voices in the world that be The while Thou saidest, " Come ye unto Me," The while Thou saidest, " Come." We said to Thee, " Abide With us, the Night draws on apace ; " but, lo ! The cloud received Thee, parted from our side, In blessing parted from us ! Even so The Heaven of Heavens must still receive Thee ! dark GO AND COME. 365 And moonless skies bend o'er us as we row, No stars appear, and sore against our bark The current sets ; yet nearer grows the Shore Where we shall see Thee standing, never more To bid us leave Thee ! though Thy Realm is wide, And mansions many, never from Thy side Thou sendest us again ; by springs serene Thou guidest us, and now to battle keen We follow Thee, yet still, in peace or war, Thou leadest us. Oh, not to sun or star Thou sendest us, but sayest, " Come to Me ; And where I am, there shall My servants be." Thou sayest to us, " COME." A SONG WHICH NONE BUT THE REDEEMED CAN SING. T \ 7"E came not in with broad Full canvas swelling to a steady breeze, With pennons flying fair, with coffers stored ; For long against the wind, 'mid heavy seas, With cordage strained and splintered masts, we drave ; And o'er our decks had dashed the bitter wave, And lightening oft our lading, life to save, Our costly ventures to the Deep were given. Yea ! some of us were caught, and homewards driven Upon the storm-wind's wings, and some rock-riven Among the treacherous reefs at anchor flung, Felt the good ship break under them, and clung Still to some plank or fragment of its frame Amid the roaring breakers Yet we came. A SONG. 367 We came not in with proud, Firm, martial footstep in a measured tread Slow pacing to the crash of music loud ; No gorgeous trophies went before, no crowd Of captives followed us with drooping head, No shining laurel sceptred us, nor crowned, Nor with its leaf our glittering lances bound ; This looks not like a Triumph, then they said. With faces darkened in the battle flame, With banners faded from their early pride, Through wind, and sun, and showers of bleaching rain, Yet red in all our garments, doubly dyed, With many a wound upon us, many a stain, We came with steps that faltered Yet we came ! Through water and through fire We came to Thee, and not through these alone, We came to Thee by blood ! Thou didst require One only sacrifice, and like Thine Own, The life Thou gavest us Thou didst desire, And all was ready for us ! Lo, the knife And cloven wood were waiting ; bound or free We too were ready ! In the battle strife 368 A SONG. Or by the lonely altar, unto Thee We offered love for love, and life for life ; Through swords, through seas, o'er sands of burning flame We came to Thee ! through toil and pain and loss ; Yea ! all things failed us but the steadfast cross, And hearts that clave to it while grief and shame Still followed where we followed Yet we came I NOTES. NOTE A. P. 220. These too, if better known, Were worthier prizing. 11 Though I love my friends dearly, and though they are good, I have, however, much to pardon, except in the single Klop- stock alone. He is good, really good good in all the foldings of his heart. I know him, and sometimes I think if we knew others in the same manner, the better we should find them. For it may be that an action displeases us which would please us if we knew its true aim and whole extent." From the Letters of Meta Klopstock. NOTE B. P. 225. / appeal Unto my equals. "Perhaps love and grief may make me speak more than many will think fit. But though some passion blind the judg- ment, some doth but excite it to duty, and God made it to that end. And I will not be judged by any that never felt the like."' 1 RICHARD BAXTER on his Wife's Death. 2 B NOTE C. P. 247. They took no /teed < V" Time or of his flight. i still iloth time in days of blessedness Appear to stay upon his constant course ; Then flows no sand, then strikes no warning bell : Oh ! he has fallen from his Heaven already Whose thoughts are heedful of the changing hours happy faar no clock.' 1 ' 1 WALLKNSTKIN. NOTE D. P. 279. / lay on thee this task, I'.ntrcat for me .' " Urothcr Bradford, as long as I shall understand thou art on thy journey by God's grace, I shall call upon our Heavenly Father for Christ's sake to let thee safely home, and then, good brother, speak you, and pray for the remnant which are to suffer for Christ's sake, according to that thou shall then know more clearly." Bishop Ridley, writing to Bradford the Martyr. NOTE E. P. 286. For TJiou didst suffer Life for us. "We bear with life for the sake of Him who suffered both life and death for us." PASCAL. NOTE F. P. 310. I see Thy smile, I do not feel Thy hand. " Rabia, a devout Arabian woman, being asked in her last illness, how she endured the extremity of her sufferings, made answer, ' They who look upon God's face do not feel His hand. ' " Milne's Palm Leaves. NOTES. 371 NOTE G. P. 319. Ye wore not then the Halo on your br(nv. ' ' ' Elias was a man of like passions as we are, ' says St. James, to wean Christians from that false idea which makes us reject the examples of the saints as disproportioned to our own con- ditions ; These were saints, we cry, and not men like us. \\"o look on them as being crowned in glory ; and now that time has cleared up things, it does really appear so. But at the time when the great Athanasius was persecuted, he was a man who bore that name; and St. Teresa, in her day, was like the other religious sisters of her order." PASCAL. NOTE H. P. 321. When did Love on Earth forsake its own f Love like to yours ? " Fain would I know thy present feelings towards thy Brother, thy beloved, if indeed it is permitted to one bathing in the floods of Divine radiance, and transported with the happiness of eternity, to call to mind our misery, to be occupied with our grief. For perhaps though thou hast hitherto known us accord- ing to the flesh, yet now thou knowest us no longer. He who is joined to God is one spirit with God; he can have no thought, no desire, save for God and for the things of God, with whose fulness he is filled. Yet ' God is love,' and the more closely a soul is bound to God, the more does it abound in love. It is true that God is impassible, but He is not insensible, for His ' nature is to have mercy and to forgive;' so then, thou must be merciful, since thou art joined to Him who showeth mercy, and thine affection, though transformed, is no whit diminished. Thou hast laid aside thy infirmities, but not thy love, for 'love 372 NOTES. abideth,' saith the Apostle, and throughout eternity thou unit not forget me. It seems to me that I hear my Brother saying, 4 Can a woman forget her sucking child ? Yea, they may forget, yet will I never forget thee.' Truly it is not expedient. Thou hast found greater consolations. Thou art in the -ever- lasting presence of the Lord Jesus, and hast angels for thy companions; but what have I to fill up the void thou hast left ? -In all that has since happened I have looked to Gerard as I had been wont, and he is not." St. Bernard on the death of his Brother. <5- ll r . 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