1 ^: •:■:/■;-;■':;;';■ ".^^V'-^iv-;. '^-^c^-^^'A VC•;':'%- -i,"-. r> J-* ^■■-. ' ;,m rf 1-1 ^BM .fifV y-r" <. toesifa THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES ■4!:-hm FIJ*' ? ^ MMHhl HORJE POETICS. *4 HORJE POETIC^E: yjjrwal anb otl^w ^otms BY Mrs. GEORGE LENOX-CONYNGHAM. LONDON: LONGMAN, BROWN, GREEN, LONGMANS, AND ROBERTS. 1859. TO THE YISCOUNTESS DONERAILE, THIS VOLUME IS DEDICATED BT HER AFFECTIONATE MOTHER. CONTENTS. PAGE The Tomb of Archimedes . . 1 The Lady op my Love . 6 Death of a young Girl . . . . . 9 Hope on, Hope always . 11 Life's Eealities . 13 The Safeguard of a State . 17 Buried Love . 23 Questions . 27 Hope . 29 Il DOLCE far NIENTE .... . 32 The early Dead . 35 Pleasure's Tour . 37 The Life- weary . 46 Love mislaid . 48 The Cypress Tree .... . 50 IV CONTENTS. • PAGE An Imprecation . 52 An Adieu . 54 Diplomacy's Choice . 56 National Evening Hymn .... . 67 Waii Song . 69 The Dying Girl's Dream .... . 72 Memory's Joys . 78 To Die is nothing in itself . 82 The Minstrel's Warning .... . 85 The Revenge of Vettor Pisani . 87 The Memory op our Dead. . 91 The Unchanged . 95 The Tomb of Heroes .... . 100 Indifference . 102 Grief . 104 The dying Painter's Dream . 107 Songs of the Trausi . 114 BiRTU Song. Death Song. On ! GIVE me back my happy youth . . 118 Separation . 120 The Grief of Psammenitus . 123 CONTENTS. V PAGE Euthanasia 129 Legend of a Fountain in Sicily . . . . 131 Reminiscences of the South .... 135 Solon's Experience 138 A Doom 140 The Pleasures of Sleep . . . . 144 The Old Long Ago 146 The Wanderer 148 The Legend op the White Rose 153 The Old Story 158 Ornaments for a Bride 165 A Farewell 168 Love Asleep 170 A Destiny 174 The Aberrations of Poetry (A Fable) 176 The Changed ....... 189 The Rival Spirits . 192 Not what I wish be granted me . . . . 205 The Young Mourner . 208 War Song . 211 The Fair Rosalie . 213 VI CONTENTS. PAGE Moonlight . 220 Toleration . 222 The Fairy of the Lily . 224 The Orphan . 232 The Turret Chamber .... . 237 True Nobility . 257 A Dream . 259 Legend of a Fountain in Thrace . 262 Be not with Joy elateb . 268 Flowers for a Grave .... . 270 Parting Song . 272 Woman's "Worth . 274 Legend of the Red Lily . . . . . 277 Sympathy . 280 Life and Death . 282 An Exile's Lament .... . 284 Life's Holyday . 287 The Spinning Spectre .... . 289 To be the thing we seem . ... . 299 Love abdicant . 301 Gifts from the Dead .... . 308 CONTENTS. Vll PAGE The Portrait . 310 Affection's Instinct . 331 Turbid run the Waters .... . 333 The Bridal and the Scaffold . . 335 The Italian in England .... . 338 The Lady of the Looking Glasses . . 348 Recollections . 365 Flowers and Pearls . 369 The Ransom of Bertrand du Guesclin . 375 Childhood . 382 Submission . 384 The Maiden's Thoughts upon War . . 386 Old Friends . . . . . . 389 A Dirge . 392 Count not on Tomorrow .... . 394 Weep not . 396 The Throne and the Bier .... . 398 A Character . 401 The Fruitless Quest . 404 To-day and To-morrow .... . 406 Cold Words . 408 Vlll CONTENTS. PAGE Glory before Wealth . . . . 410 Where may not Love be found ? . 413 Truth-telling . 416 Flowers . 419 Old German Grave Song .... . 421 Translation of an old German Song . 422 Gipsy Songs . 424 From Tyrt^us . 427 From Simonides . 428 THE TOMB OF AECHIMEDES. Ita nobilissima Grseciae Civitas, quondam vero etiam doctissima, sui Civis unius acutissimi monimentum ignorasset, nisi ab homine Arpinate didicisset.— Cicero, Tusc. Qucest., lib. 5, cap. 23. A THREE years' siege an ancient city stood ; Her men were valiant, and her walls were good; Yet neither soldiers brave, nor bulwarks strong Could have resisted Roman force so long, But for the genius of a single man, Whose intellect's gigantic grasp could span The circle of all science ; and at will Its secrets use his purpose to fulfil. B THE TOMB OF ARCHIMEDES. He kept the baffled enemy at bay; Deferring still his country's fatal clay. That man was Archimedes;— honoured name, First in the roll of scientific fame ! And Syracuse that city. When at length Subdued by mighty Kome's o'erwhelming strength, Her haughty head indignantly she bowed To the dominion of a foe as proud, The generous conqueror, merciful as brave. Wept for the victims whom he could not save. In victory's flush, it was his earliest thought That Archimedes should, unscathed, be brought Into his presence; — this his first command. They found him tracing figures on the sand. In musino- lost : he heeded not the strife — Or loved his problem better than his life : A savage soldier cut the thread of both — Impatient of delay, perhaps, and loth THE TOMB OF ARCHIMEDES. To tarry longer from the scene of spoil, Rich ^vith the harvest of victorious toil. All he could do, Marcellus did, to show How Romans reverenced an illustrious foe. 'He gave him funeral honours ; paid each rite Of holy ceremonial due, which might Appease the Dead he vainly sought to spare : He raised his monument ; and sculptured there The symbols by the Sage himself designed. To note the immortal labours of his mind. A century and a half had not yet passed; — The doom of Syracuse was still o'ercast : Her bondage weighed not heavily; — but she, Who had been glorious, was no longer free : And slavery's creeping canker had effaced The characters which Gratitude had traced B 2 THE TOMB OF ARCHIMEDES. With zealous finger, in a happier age, [Jpon her menaory's Jong unopened page. Of cold forgetfulness the mouldering prey, Her patriot Sage's sacred ashes lay, Till Cicero sought the sepulchre unknown, ' Where slept a spirit kindred to his own ; And consanguinity of genius gave The clue to guide his footsteps to that grave. He had inquired of many ; but in vain : None knew the place: so, with a wondering train Of Magnates, he passed through the gate that led To the sepulchral dwellings of the Dead Which lined the Street of Tombs. He saw appear, Through choking weeds, the Cylinder and Sphere ; Tokens whereby to recognize the spot Which Kome remembered — Syracuse forgot. Upon the apex of a shaft of stone. With tangled weeds and brambles overgrown. THE TOMB OF ARCHIMEDES. 5 Those sculptured emblems caught the wandering glance Of Tully's searchnig eye. See him advance With rapid step and eager gesture ! Hear His quick demand for implements to clear. In haste, the long neglected precincts round, And give him space to tread the hallowed ground. Fancy him stooping at the column's base, The half-obliterated lines to trace, Which, worn, corroded, gave him still to know That Archimedes was interred below. Thus, in that fallen city where had reigned Science and Learning, not a thought remained Of him, her Benefactor, whose renown Had been the brightest jewel in her crown Of pride and glory. Nay ! she knew not where He lay, untended by his country's care. Until a stranger from the conqueror's land, With pious heart and reverential hand, Dispelled oblivion's sacrilegious gloom. And gave to light and memory his Tomb. THE LADY OF MY LOVE. A creature not too bright or good, For human nature's daily food, For transient sorrows, simple wiles, Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears, and smiles. WORDSWOKTH. The lady of my love is fair, And joyous as the things of air, Which neither think nor toil; — I hope old Time will never dare To touch her heart with grief or care, Its sinless mirth to spoil. She dances like the graceful Queen Of Fairies, revelling on the green, Beneath the moon's soft light, To elfin tunes ; for there have been, Nay, doubt not ! mortals who have seen, Or dreamed they saw, that siglit. THE LADY OF MY LOVE. Her laugh is music ; she can sing As sweetly as the birds in spring, Whose little hearts rejoice; Or like that maid who used to bring An angel down, on eager wing, To hear her human voice. Her smile is glad, her glance is clear, Her soul untroubled by the fear Or consciousness of wrong : Full well she knows that she is dear To young and old ; — that, far and near, We all have loved her long. She is as innocent and good As any child that ever stood Beside his mother's knee ; Or frolicked through the flowery wood With every creature that he could. Bird, butterfly, or bee. 8 THE LADY OF MY LOVE. I know not whether she is wise ; I never asked her to advise What I should say or do ; I only know that when she tries To read my wishes in my eyes, The reading 's always true. DEATH OF A YOUNG GIRL. We watched her slowly fade away, All beauty to the last ; And felt, but could not bear to say, That every hope was past. We saw the hollow cheek grow bright With fever's fatal bloom ; We marked the eye's more brilliant light. And read our darling's doom. We knew it was God's holy will, What He had given to take, To dwell with Him in Heaven ; but, still. Our hearts were like to break. 10 DEATH OF A YOUNG GIRL. Without a sigh she loosed her hold Of this world and its ties ; As flowers at eve their petals fold, She closed her weary eyes. Earth ne'er gave forth so fair a flower As this we give her here ; Alas ! that love should have no power To save what was so dear ! Now every pious rite is paid ; As on a mother's breast, Our loved and lovely one is laid, To take her dreamless rest. Her body lies beneath the sod, To mingle dust witli dust ; Her spirit upwards soars to God, Wliosc mercy was her trust. HOPE ON ! HOPE ALWAYS ! 'EXirfirOai xp^ iravr, iirei ovk '4v KOKav dnpa^La. They say that to work we were sent upon earth, With spirit untiring and bold ; And, that this is the Heaven-imposed law of our birth. By sages and saints we are told. I fain would discredit the doctrine of both ; For (I blush while the truth I declare) There is nothing to me so alluring as sloth ; — No form of enjoyment so fair. IL DOLCP] FAR NIENTE. 33 'Tis my luxury, hour after hour, to sit Doing nothing, beneath the green trees, And look at the insects that carelessly flit, Carried lightly along by the breeze ; Or watch the gay dance of the flickering motes. Where the sun through the shade darts a beam ; Or gaze on the leaf, as it lazily floats On the scarce-rippled breast of the stream. I never could see the advantage of toil ; My wealth is from care to be free ; To others I leave all the greed and the spoil ; Inaction is treasure to me. I envy the lot of the moss-cradled rose : How calmly she passes her days ; Till, at eve, rocked by Zephyr to deeper repose. While the nightingale sings in her praise ! D 34 IL DOLCE FAR NIENTE. You say there's a duty confided to each ; A talent he must not abuse : That may be ; but your duties are out of my reach : My talent is — only to muse. You bid me observe that all creatures fulfil The doom Mother Nature decrees : — No doubt ! But I'm sure she meant me to sit still ; Or just glide on through life at my ease. THE EAKLY DEAD. We buried her while morning's light Was stealing o'er the sky ; Ere yet the tears of dewy Night On Nature's face were dry. We buried her while still the sun Was on the horizon's verge ; The lark, before our task was done, Began to sing her dirge. We laid our sleeping flower among The just awakening flowers ; Like them she was so sweet and young ;- That blighted bud of ours ! D 2 36 THE EARLY DEAD. She died at dawn ; we laid her where The sun's first smiles will rest ; He will not look on aught more fair, Before he gains the West. We did not leave a trace of gloom About her grassy bed ; All should be bright around a tomb Which holds the early dead. Her being had but dawned on earth. Before she passed away : Death is the Spirit's better birth ; The dawn of perfect day. PLEASURE'S TOUR. Pleasure had once a. mind to travel : She always has been given to roam : Let the wise look shocked and cavil ; — She is not a great stay-at-home. She had not fixed her plans at present : What most she wished she did not know : The world around looked gay and pleasant ; So romid the world she thought she'd go. 38 pleasure's tour. She started early ; taking only Some trifling gauds of mingled hues ; She is not fond of being lonely : But for this once she meant to muse. I grieve to say that, soon, however, She found her own society Tedious ; and vowed she must endeavour To seek out some variety. Just then she reached a bower of roses, Whose blushes brightened every minute ;— The earliest that the Spring uncloses ; A lovely child was nestling in it, " Here," she cried, '' oh ! here 's a treasure ! " Come out, fair creature ! come and play." Tlie infant heard the voice of Pleasure, And bounded forth, as glad as day. pleasure's tour. 39 Oil ! the tracing and the chasing Of birds and butterflies and bees ! And the merry dance-hke racing With the blossom on the breeze ! Oh ! the frolic spirits, flinging New delights o'er hill and dell ! And the joyous laughter, ringing Lightly as a fairy's bell ! But see ! pale Evening's shades are falling Softly on the weary world ; Gentle thoughts of rest recalling, Ere Night's wings be quite unfurled. Each day -flower hangs its heavy head ; The dewy night-flowers wake to weep ; And, sinking on a mossy bed, That happy child falls fast asleep. 40 pleasure's tour Pleasure sansf sweet song-s to wake liim : — But he did not hear even her : Loth still was she to forsake him ; She almost thought she would not stir : But, at length, she left him sleeping : Who, alas ! of woman born, E'er closed his eyes in Pleasure's keeping, To open them on her next morn 1 And now heaven's glories, without number, Thronging thickly, poured their light : Pleasure is not prone to slumber ; And she loves a starry night. So, on she sped : — but, did I mention One half that on her walk occurred, You'd swear it was my own invention ; Or say, at least, 'twas "too absurd." pleasure's tour. 41 She saw a sage intently gazing At all the wonders of the sky : She heard a youthful poet praising The " Ladye-Moon," and passed both by. She left a maiden and her lover Disputing, as she just could hear, Too much in earnest to discover That Pleasure had been very near. As she approached a stately dwelling, She heard the sounds of revelry, Upon the tranquil night-air swelling, And felt her heart bound high with glee. There was music ; there was dancing ; There was mirth's harmonious din ; Bright gems and brighter eyes were glancing More brightly still, as she came in. 42 pleasure's tour. More flower-like bloomed eacli young cheek's blushing, When her springing step drew near ; Softer eloquence seemed gushing From many a tongue on many an ear. But some chaperonish yawning, Long before the night was spent, Made her fancy day was dawning ; And, in haste, away she went. Hist ! on her ear a gentle greeting, Like remembered music, fell : Ah ! it was a happy meeting : That dear voice ! she knew it well. Yes 1 'twas Love, her own twin- brother ! From the bright world of their birth. They had come with one another, Bringing down a heaven to earth. pleasure's tour. 43 While they could they clung together. Sharing many a happy heart ; But this world's inconstant weather Drove tlie twins at length apart. From time to time they meet, with gladness ; — Early sympathies are strong : — But Love is grown so used to Sadness, He cannot live without her long. They bade good bye ! On flitted Pleasure : I cannot say she felt regret ; 'Tis not her line ; nor has she leisure, If even she knew the way, to fret. Her cheek with morning's light was glowing, With smiles her rosy lip was wreathed ; She flitted on, bright glances throwing Upon all things that grew or breathed. 44 pleasure's tour. She caught a ghmpse of Hope, divining With her deep, clear, prophetic eyes, Some light to come ; — some glory shining, Like a bright rainbow, in the skies. That symbol of a fair to-morrow, — That mystic sign with promise fraught, — That type of gladness after sorrow, — Say was it not for Hope first wrought ? Pleasure perceived her very plainly, Although before her floating far; She tried to overtake her, vainly, As children do a flying star. Oh ! how should she, earth -skimming Pleasure, Whose limits are this world's, keep pace With her who can, at will, out-measure The boundaries of time and space ? pleasure's tour. 45 She called her ; but Hope never turneth At any call, however sweet ; Her eager glance still onward biirneth, The Spirit of her love to greet. He comes ! The bright Dream-spirit, banished From life's realities ! The air Buoyed up her radiant wings ! She vanished, And left poor Pleasure j)lantee there. THE LIFE- WEARY. Oh ! ye beloved ! do not grieve for me ; I go where I have prayed and pined to be : I go to join the holy, happy throng, Whose visioned joys have been my dream so long. I have been laden heavily ; my breast, As hunted deer's for water, pants for rest : Fain would I cast my burthen off and soar Where grief and care shall weigh me down no more. Ye know how I have suffered here on earth ; Ye know how utter is my young life's dearth Of all which makes life's value : — how the course Of my heart's hope was ice-bound at its source. THE LIFE- WEARY. 47 Ye know how my affections clustered all Round one alone ; and how the idol's fall Crushed the love-nurtured faith, the clinging trust Entwined about it, to the very dust. Ye know it well. Then, do not seek to stay My Spirit, winged to take its heavenward way, And hovering on the brink of the abyss Which lies between that better world and this. Think of me, dear ones ! as a ransomed slave, Wliose road to liberty lies through the grave ; An exile, through a desert doomed to roam. And summoned now to an eternal home. LOVE MISLAID. We parted to meet again soon ; We have met, and I wish we had not ; Amongst things garnered up in the moon Is the love which embelhshed our lot. I do not know how 'twas mislaid ; But I'm sure we shall find it no more : If we did, it could never be made What we cherished so fondly of yore. LOVE MISLAID. 49 They tell us, wherever we go, That true love to one object is bound ; 1 wish they would tell, — if they know, — Where the love which they speak of is found. They say, from the love which is new, That we always come back to the old : This may be ; but, I fear, if we do, — That 'tis only to find it grown cold. E THE CYPRESS TREE. Elena Corner Piscopia, a young Venetian lady, distinguished alike for her talents, her learning, and her virtues, a short time before her death, 1684, dissuaded her father from cutting down a Cypress near their house, by assuring him that the life of the tree would, ere long, fail contempora- neously with her own. She begged that the first use made of its wood might be to form her coffin. Her prediction and her wish were both fulfiUed. Oh ! cut not down the Cypress tree ! I love its stately gloom ; Its mournful asj^ect speaks to me Of my approaching doom : I find a type of things above In its unchanging hue ; A symbol of eternal love, Immutable and true. THE CYPRESS THEE. 51 It will not cumber long the ground ; Its destiny draws nigh ; Its fragile life with mine is bound ; Together we shall die. No human care or kindness could Either avail to save ; Make me a coffin of its wood, And let it share my grave. Gently she drooped to early death ; The tree drooped at her side ; And when she drew her latest breath, The faithful cypress died. A coffin from the wood was made, And in its fragrant breast The loved of many hearts was laid, To take her last, long rest. E 2 AN IMPEECATION. Lives there a slave Whose bondage doth not gall him ? Scorned by the brave, His country's curse befall him ! Honour shall veil Her face at his appearing ; Freedom's voice fail, When he comes within hearing. Hope's opening bud Beneath his glance shall wither ; Glory's proud flood Kecede if he draw thither. AN IMPRECATION. 53 True men shall spurn The caitiff, humbly suing ; True women turn, Indignant, from his wooing. Lone be his lot, His love for ever sliorhted ; His kindness forgot ; His friendship unrequited. The grass, round his tomb, Heaven's dew shall never nourish ; No flower there shall bloom, No sheltering tree shall flourish. AN ADIEU! Quedate a Dios, agua clara, Quedate a Dios, agua fria, Y quedad con Dios, mis flores, Mi gloria, que ser solia. Romance de Don Duardos y Flerida. — Anonymous. Adieu, ye rivers of my native land ! Adieu, ye flowers by southern breezes fanned ! Adieu ! I go to a far distant sliore, And I shall see this lovely land no more. Gardens, the glory of my childish heart, Adieu, adieu, for ever ! I depart, To languish in that chilly northern isle Where Nature's face so seldom wears a smile. AN ADIEU ! 55 Yet, I shall oft come hither in my dreams, And wander gladly by the clear cool streams Of mine own sunny country, gathering flowers, As I was wont to do in happier hours. Henceforth, my waking doom will be to weep : But faithful Memory, watching while I sleep, With joys and loves long-lost will people night, And steep my soul in visions of delight. DIPLOMACY'S CHOICE. While timorous Knowledge stands considering, Audacious Ignorance hath done the deed. Daniel. Diplomacy, not long ago, (I mean our own, of course, you know) Was called on to decide the fates Of two young rival candidates. Aspiring, in her service bland. To serve, or save, their native land. 'Twas a great bore ;— for now her choice, Obedient to the people's voice. diplomacy's choice. 57 Which a jobation lately gave her, Must go by merit, not by favour ; Examination, too, must test Who met the State's requirements best. She had not always had this trouble, Which was, she vowed, an empty bubble : She only wished that it would burst. And leave things as they were at first. What was the use of taking pains To find out an Attaches brains ? How could it signify a pin, What corner they were hidden in 1 They would be sure to come to light, If ever wanted, sound and bright. For trifles to make such a fuss. Was, she declared, preposterous. She held out gallantly, in fact. Although with virulence attacked 58 diplomacy's choice. From various quarters, for neglect Of shoals — where England might be wrecked ; Till seven-league-booted Intellect Downrightly swore that he would make, CTnless she followed in his wake, A dire example of the dame, And hold her up to public shame. So, what on earth was to be done, Excepting with the age to run ? In short, though loth, she has consented, (I'm sure she often has repented) To make it indispensable For all who in her shadow dwell, Henceforth, for ever, to profess And even, if possible, possess A little specious information ; Enough to satisfy the nation That there's some cry, if little wool ; And to convince that sage, John Bull, diplomacy's choice. 59 Who knows not much himself, 'tis true, That those who represent him do. She thouDfht it miMit faciUtate Her measures, if each candidate Tor her approval, sent a proxy To answer for his orthodoxy ; And vouch for his being duly grounded In all the points whereon were founded The requisitions, from whose root Knowledge should bear such golden fruit — Some one well known to all the nation. In person, or by reputation. Those under her consideration Just now, had, therefore, each deputed The advocate he deemed best suited To set forth his deserts at length, And plead his cause in all its strength. The first who to the ordeal came Was Ignorance — you've heard her name ! 60 diplomacy's choice. Diplomacy had heard it too ; — Nay, more — the lady well she knew. Not Ignorance, the dogged, dull, Whose heart is numb as is her skull ; Whose blood's mean current Sloth impedes Like sluggish rivers choked with weeds : No link of amity hath she With quick-witted Diplomacy. The Ignorance of whom I tell, Is one we all know very well : A genial, careless, merry creature, — Contentment stamped on every feature, — Whose head has never been perplexed With questions vexing more than vexed ; Who always sets us at our ease, By noting no deficiencies — A very patent way to please ! She and Diplomacy had been Associates in many a scene ; diplomacy's choice. G1 And always got on well together, Save in some bouts of stormy weather, When Ignorance, by zealous snatches, Wotdd take to writing the Despatches. She, then, it was who, in compliance With earnest prayers, and in reliance On her experience, year by year. Of what shone most in the career. Came forward now, to recommend To the protection of her friend, A favourite protege of hers, Who longed for Diplomatic spurs. To state his merits when desired, She answered frankly, as required : ^' He's not by any means a fool ; '' He learned all sorts of things at school ; '' Skimmed through a university, '' And might have taken a Degree." 62 DIPLOMACY S CHOICE. ' So far so good ! Pray ! can he spell ?" " All easy words — he dances well ; ' His waltzing is a glorious thing ! ' He can compose a polka ; sing ' Like a moustachioed nightingale ; ' Expound a riddle ; tell a tale ' Of modern belle or ancient ghost ; ' I know not which he deals in most." ' Is he well up in all the tenses ' Of all French verbs ?"— '' Ahem ! he fences ' With skill and science ; takes a joke, ' When sharpened fine ; — knows how to smoke ; ' Has charming manners ; much aplomb ; ' And always makes himself at home." ' Most satisfactory ! Can he write ?" ' I think so — I'm not certain quite : ' Yes, but I am though ! for I've seen ' Small notes of his — pink, blue, and green. DIPLOMACY S CHOICE. 63 " He punctuates without a blunder, " From commas up to pops of wonder." " But tell me now, how stands his grammar ?" " Well ! I don't think it needs a crammer." " All right ! I hope, besides, that he " Knows history and geography." " Of course ! At school he used to trace " Maps ; dotting down each famous place : " And he can throw off names, facts, dates, " As glibly as a parrot prates ; " Coupling the former with the latter — " If not correctly, no great matter ! " Whether the living miss or hit " Such truths, the dead care not a whit. " A Diplomate predestined, for " He's more than half a conjuror ; " An adept in all carpet sports, " And formed to fascinate at courts ; 64 DIPLOMACY S CHOICE. " He'll do you credit in a line " Where Britons do not always shine ; " And prove that English heart of oak '^ May take a polish ; though some folk '^ Aver that it is all in vain " To work on such a knotty grain. " Upon the whole, I know you'll find '^ The youth exactly to your mind. " J trust that my advice you'll take ; " If but for old acquaintance sake." Diplomacy looked quite benign, And made her a good-natured sign To stand a little bit aside, Until the other suit was tried. The sponsor that came next was Learning, Who, wishing to appear discerning, Descanted, in a pompous tone, On facts not generally known ; DIPLOMACY S CHOICE. Q5 Touched upon multifarious topics, Around the poles — between the tropics ; Called things right, by their hardest name, And said her pupil did the same. Taking a scope thus wide and high, The whole harangue was rather dry And tedious, as may be supposed. Diplomacy, I fancy, dozed : For, else, she never could have sat While Learning lectured her like that ; And stated that her youthful friend Had powers of mind to comprehend All that she lightly had glanced through ; And tongue to lecture on it too. Diplomacy gulped down a yawn At first, and next a sigh long-drawn : Then, like a person just awoke From unrefreshing slumber, spoke. 66 diplomacy's choice. " All you have uttered is sublime ; " But, to digest it, needs more time " And deeper thought than I can spare, " At present, from a grave affair. " As you perceive, 'tis rather late, " And I have business of some weight, " Which can't be pat off 'till to morrow : '• I say it with exceeding sorrow. •' Your protege, no doubt, is clever, " And does you honour. I'll endeavour, " Some day, to do myself the pleasure " To question him ; — when more at leisure. " I hope sincerely 'twill be soon : " I wish you a good afternoon." — * So now, dear Ignorance ! this once, I e'en must choose your charming Dunce ' NATIONAL EVENING HYMN. All Mighty ! Thou who sendest on his way The giant Sun to rule the radiant day ; Thou, at whose bidding, with a softened Hght, The Moon comes forth to cheer the mournful Night ; Thou, from whose glory's unimagined source The stars derive effulgence for their course ; Ancient of days ! from whose unerring hand Earth's ages drop, like grains of falling sand ; Before Thy throne we stand. F 2 68 NATIONAL evp:ning hymn. Benign Creator ! whose inspiring word Exulting myriads into being stirred ; God ! self- existent, self-dependent ; known In thy reflected Majesty alone ; Wielder of destinies ! on whose dread breath Trembles the balanced doom of life and death ; Immutable ! Eternal ! deign to bow An ear of mercy to Thy creatures now ! Accept our evening vow ! Father ! we thank Thee for the day just past ; Those yet to come upon Thy love we cast ; We bless Thee for the Dead whose griefs are o'er ; For us who live, Thy grace we still implore. Grant, Thou, the stranger's God! sweet dreams of home To those who, far away, in exile roam. Our sleep o'ershadow with Thy fostering care ; Best where we may, All Present ! Thou art there. Lord God ! make good our prayer ! WAR SONG. Ti yap TTarpcoas dvbpl cfiiXrepov XOovos ; Come on ! come on ! The strife Is not alone for life, That doubtful good : To struggle we are here For all that makes life dear, As brave men should. The Foe draws near our walls ; The voice of Honour calls ; Accursed the ear Which drinks not in the sound !- The heart which does not bound That voice to hear ! 70 WAR SONG. Old men, wliose strength is gone In youth whose valour shone With steady flame ! Your blood is in our veins : Come see us spurn all chains, In Freedom's name ! Mothers ! ye shall not blush, When ye behold us rush Forth to the field : Our graves may there be spread Ere night : alive or dead, We will not yield. Children ! come out and see The warfare of the Free ! For you we fight : Learn how a patriot draws His good sword in the cause Of Home and Kiglit ! WAR SONG. 71 A day may come when yon Must fight a battle too, Upon whose fate Kindred's and Country's doom, Of glory or of gloom, Balanced shall wait. Maidens ! 'tis yours to stay Within your homes and pray, With trusting heart, That God His Hosts would send Of Angels, to defend The righteous part. THE DYING GIRL'S DREAM. A WIDOWED fatJier watched beside the bed Of one, whose life was fluttering on Death's brink Between his heart and its beloved Dead This was the single still unsevered link. He knew her sj)irit soon must pass away And leave him desolate on earth. He wept, In voiceless agony, while there she lay. Like a young folded flower at eve, and slept. THE DYING GIRL's DREAM. 73 She opened suddenly lier lustrous eyes Filled with that deep, mj^sterious, holy light, The setting Spirit's radiance, whose clear dyes Tinge the dark confines of sepulchral night. '' Father ! dear father ! do not weep for me I T go, in hope, to join God's angel throng ; I go, in joy, my Saviour's face to see ; My father, thou wilt follow me ere long. " Even now, I waken from a happy dream Where Heaven was opened to my distant view ; And all the aspiring fantasies that seem Too bricrht for truth, were imao^ed forth as true. '' I saw that world where joys are felt and known Which were but dimly shadowed forth in this ; Where Jesus sits upon His mercy-throne. And hope is merged in certainty of bliss. 74 THE DYING GIRL's DREAM. " Thus was the vision : At that dreary hour Which ushers in the newly risen day, As was my wont while still I had the power, I went, methought, in yon old church to pray. (( Alone I passed along the solemn aisle, And marked a quaint memorial here and there Alone in all that venerable pile, I bent my knee and raised my heart in prayer. " I know not in my dream how long I knelt ; For I was lost to thoughts of all below ; Until at last in every sense I felt A gush of transport through my being flow. '' I raised my eyes. Lo ! at an open door, Radiant in loveliness — not that of earth — I saw a group, remembered well of yore, Centred by her to wliom I owe my birth. THE DYING GIRL's DREAM. 75 " Yes ! there she stood, — the mother early lost, — Smiling amongst her beautiful and brave ; Her home-shed buds ; — her war and tempest-tossed — The gallant boys who found a foreign grave. " I saw them, beauteous in ethereal bloom ; A glory stamped on each immortal brow : Let me 2:0 down into the dark, cold tomb, To rise again and be as they are now ! '' My own beloved sister twin was there ; She glided towards me from the angel band : A wreath of deathless flowers was on her hair ; A wreath of deathless flowers was in her hand. " This laid she gently on my bending head : Straightway my eyes were opened to behold The unimagined glories of the Dead. To living ears they may not yet be told. 76 THE DYING GIRL's DREAM. " I see those heavenly forms before me still ! I feel their balmy breathings on my face ! Their whispers, floating round, the chamber fill : ' Come, Sister ! come to thine appointed place ! ' *' I come ! — Dear father, yet a parting kiss ! Devoid of bitterness thy tears must fall : My soul is winged for everlasting bliss ; — Thou would'st not hold me back when Angfels call. " I go before thee to the world unknown : But if it be indeed a world of love, Thou shalt not be all desolate and lone While I am happy in those realms above. " When, as I know thou wilt, at evening hour My favourite haunts thou visitest again, And tendest, for my sake, the fairy bower I loved so much, I shall be with thee then. THE DYING GIRL's DREAM. 77 '' And when thy patient soul pours forth a prayer For strength to bow unmurmuring to the rod, My watchful Spirit shall be near, to bear Thy supplication to the throne of God." She died. They sculptured o'er her place of rest A budding lily drooping to the dust — A butterfly emerging from its breast ; Meet emblems of her purity and trust. MEMORY'S JOYS. Nam, fruendis voluntatibus, crescit careudi dolor. Pliny the Younger, Lib. 8, Epist. 5. Nessun maggior dolore Che ricordarsi del tempo felice Nella miseria. Dante. — Inferno, canto 5. Talk not to me of Memory's joys ! Tell me not how she can restore The blessings ruthless Time destroys, As fresh and vivid as of yore ! Boast not to me her potent spell, The good, relinquished, to regain ! I know, alas ! her magic well ; And how it works on heart and brain. MEMORY S JOYS. 79 I know that when our human cup Is mantling high with mingled woes, She adds some drops to fill it up, And watches while the draught o'erflows. I know that if she bring back flowers, Such as around us used to bloom, Just when we fancy they are ours, We see them scattered o'er a tomb. I know that it is Memory's vaunt To mimic Pleasure's mouldered form. And bid the mocking semblance haunt The soul its type was wont to warm ; And that when, yielding to her skill, We trust the fair illusion most. And at the phantom gras}), a chill Reminds us 'tis but Pleasure's ghost. 80 MEMORY S JOYS. Eemember ! Teach me to forget A bliss too exquisite to last ! My grief becomes more poignant yet By contrast with the happy past. Go bid the plundered miser count Among the worthless baubles left, The irrecoverable amount Of wealth of which he is bereft ! Believe ye that the blind from birth Can languish for the glorious light, And pine to look upon this earth Like him who lately lost his sight ? Can the hereditary slave, Who never moved without a chain, Chafe at his bondage, like the brave Brought up all fetters to disdain ? memory's joys. 81 I find no comfort in the thoug'ht That, wretched now, I have been blessed : With tenfold agony is fraught The dearth of treasure once possessed. Lost joy remembered 'mid despair Dyes it of deeper, darker hue ; — The life-long wretch may calmly bear The want of what he never knew. '^ TO DIE IS NOTHING IN ITSELF." To yap 6ave7v ovk alaxpov, clW alaxpSiS davelv. To die is nothing in itself; — a breath — A pulse suppressed, — no more. To die with shame, And leave the memory of a blighted name ; — This is the sting and bitterness of Death. To die is nothing — on the battle-field, Obedient to the call of Duty's voice : — That Death is but the Patriot's dearest choice, Whose Country's freedom with his blood is sealed. " TO DIE IS NOTHING IN ITSELF." 83 To die is nothing — when beside the bed Where slowly, peacefully, we sink to sleep, Watch anxious eyes which tell us, while they weep, That, loved in life, w^e shall be honoured dead. To die is nothing — while the ardent mind, Exulting in the work already wrought. Is planning, with its eager powers of thought, New schemes to raise and purify mankind. To die is nothing — while some Dream of bliss Is hovering o'er us, with bright wings unfurled. And whispering hopes which in that unknown world May be fulfilled ; but never could in this. To die is nothing — while fair Childhood's bloom. Is still unfaded ; and the rosy Hours Dance gaily onward, garlanded with flowers, Bearing the unconscious victim to his tomb. G 2 84 " TO DIE IS NOTHING IN ITSELB\" To die is nothing — in the flush of youth, While Glory fills the brain, and Love the heart ; And the frank spirit, not yet warped by art, Feeling its own, believes another's truth. To die is nothing — in strong Manhood's prime Of noble energy ; — when o'er the past The parting glance of retrospection cast Finds Life's fair reckoning balanced well with Time. To die is nothing — while, in tranquil Age, With loosening hold on all the things of Earth, The trusting soul awaits its second birth Where Grief can enter not, or Passion rage. To die is nothing in itself ; — The scorn Of those who see us die gives Death its pang : Rather than feel such Death's envenomed fang Far better were it not to have been born. THE MINSTREL'S WARNING. Como estoy alegre, Tristezas temo, Porque vienen mil penas Tras un contento. Anonymous. One day, a Minstrel sat and sang, Not idly, as I think : '^ The brightest flowers of joy o'erhang A precipice's brink : Pleasure is seldom free from pain ; A smile may cause a tear ; Loss may come hand in hand with gain And Hope is twin with Fear. 86 THE minstrel's warning. " Then wisely listen to my voice Which warns you of your doom ; Prepare to grieve when ye rejoice ; To wither when ye bloom : Amidst all good remember ill — It soon must be your share ; If light your load, be ready, still, A heavier load to bear," THE REVENGE OF VETTOE PISANI. (1379.) Ungrateful Venice ! In those palmy days For ever gone, when Glory's crown of rays Shone, still undimmed, upon thy haughty head, And patriot chiefs thy patriot people led O'er the calm bosom of thy deep blue sea. To conquer other States, and keep thine free, How often, Queen of Ocean ! didst thou doom Thy best and noblest to a dungeon's gloom ; Or brand the memory of thy true and brave With the dishonour of a Traitor's grave ! 88 THE REVENGE OF VETTOK PTSANI. Yet liow tliey loved thee ! witli wliat filial pride. In tliy mysterious service lived and died ; Deeming the destiny supremely blessed. To lie at anchor in thy heartless breast ! But harsher mandate, sentence more unjust, Never disgraced thine annals of distrust, Than when, to expiate thy Senate's fliult, Pisani lano'uished in San Marco's vault. He, whose proud name no blot had ever stained. With wounded honour and with limbs enchained, Like any common felon fettered lay, To fret his wi'onged and gallant heart away. How his indignant spirit must have spurned The charge of inefhciency, and burned With the remembrance of the o-lorious fio-hts Won by his arm for Venice and her rights ! How chafed at life, and wished a Hero's death Had been his safeguard against Slander's breath ! THE REVENGE OF VETTOR PISANI. 89 Day after day rolls on its heavy round, And still he there remains in fetters bound Whose iron cankereth.— At length a foe Appears, whom Venice well has learned to know : The fleet victorious of that rival State, — Her equal in ambition and in hate, — Exulting Genoa's triumphant host, With taunts, draws near the Adriatic coast. Insulted Venice proudly to their oars Summons her people to defend her shores. The people rush, in wild, tumultuous bands. To where the Lion of San Marco stands ; Around tlie palace of the Doge they crowd. And rend the air with shoutings fierce and loud : '^ Give us our Admiral once more, and then Undaunted see us face the foe again ! Without him, never ! Forth our Hero give ! Long live Pisani ! Long Pisani live ! " 90 THE REVENGE OF VETTOR PISANI. Those honest shouts his dungeon's echoes filled, And through the captive's generous bosom thrilled. Slowly he rose ; and, crawling on in pain, Close to the grated window dragged his chain. Thence the pure Patriot's loyal accents fell On ears which loved those long-known accents well, And manly hearts which had been often stirred To noble action by his lightest word : " Pause, fellow Citizens ! Venetians, pause ! Obey our Country and respect her Laws ! ^ Long live San Marco ! ' is the only cry Venetian lips should ever send on high ! " The prudent Senate heard the People's voice. And gave them forth the leader of their choice. THE MEMOEY OF OUR DEAD. A Year has vanished, bearing down the tide Which flows not back — the Ocean of the Past — Hopes, fears, joys, sorrows ; dreams of human pride And passion ; all irrevocably cast Within the inexorable keeping Which yields not up its trust, For threat or prayer or weeping Of Earth's poor sons of dust. 92 THE MEMORY OF OUR DEAD. A Year has vanished, and the treasures She gathered on her varying round ; The sparkling schemes, the bright-hued pleasures That scattered o'er her path she found ; — Alas ! the reckless Year Hath flung away the store Of all she garnered here, Whence it may rise no more ! The memory of our Dead, the slain On Eastern height and battle-plain ; The glory of our gallant-hearted, Bought with their sweat and blood ; — Has it too with the Year departed, To sink and perish in that flood, — The abyss of Time still deepening on for ever, Engulphing all things and disgorging never ? THE MEMORY OF OUR DEAD. 93 There is no Past for them. — Their deathless fame Is present now and shall be present still, So long as England owns a Nation's name, And English hearts with patriot feelings thrill. They sleep afar in foreign earth ; But English maids shall sing Their dirge by many an English hearth, And feel that 'tis a glorious thing To be of English birth. The English sire shall teach his son, Through age succeeding age. To scan their deeds on History's page. And do as they have done ; And English children at their play Shall pause to think upon the story Their mothers told with tears, that day, Of English bravery and glory. 94 THE MEMORY OF OUR DEAD. Where'er the Enghsh tongue is spoken, Where'er men honour noble deeds, Unflinching zeal, and faith unbroken, And Valour that for Freedom bleeds, - Their memory shall be a token For Victory, till Time's o'erflowing sea Mingle its waters with Eternity. January 1, 1855. THE UNCHANGED. How many years have passed away Since last I saw thy face ! Yet scarcely seems it that a day Hath printed there its trace. Thy smiles are joyous as of yore ; Thine eyes as full of light ; The rosy blushes mantling o'er Thy cheek, are just as bright. 96 THE UNCHANGED. Yes ! there thou art, all brilliant still ; All tranquil too ; no sign That cares which other bosoms fill Have ever entered thine ! Have all these years no shadow thrown Upon that surface fair ? Hast thou no sorrows of thine own ? No loved one's griefs to share ? How hast thou hoarded girlhood up ? How stayed the fleeting hours ? What magic draught has brimmed thy cup, Freshening its crown of flowers ? How hast thou bribed old Time, who flings His evil gifts o'er all, To let the down from his dark wings On thee so softly fall ? THE UNCHANGED. 97 Yet once the river of thy life Thus calmly did not roll : Thou hast had thine hour of inward strife ; Thine agony of soul ; Thy struggles between pride and love ; Th}^ tears which ivoiild be wept O'er vows by all on earth — above — Plighted— but never kept. The very memory hast thou lost Of woe thou scarce could'st bear ? Few could have lived on, having crossed A gulf so like Despair. But thou hast crossed it ; — and thy bloom Pales not ; nor does it glow, — Like roses which conceal a tomb, — To hide a wreck below. H 98 THE UNCHANGED. Forget ! forget ! For such as thou Kemembrance was not made ; And Nature never meant that brow To wear a deepened shade. Forget ! forget — yet can'st thou ? — all The visions of thy youth ! Let no awakening pang recall Thy dreams of Love and Truth ! Can'st thou forget that broken heart, — That such a heart should break For one so heartless as thou art ! — Now mouldering for thy sake ? Can'st thou forget the dawn of bliss So suddenly o'ercast ? Oh ! God ! can'st thou forget all this, Thou Traitress to the past ? THE UNCHANGED. 99 Forget ! forget ! smile on^ smile on, At least in semblance blest ! Forget ! forget the dead and gone ! Are not they too at rest ? Almost, while thus I gaze on thee, I think with those who deem In Heaven there is no memory Of this World's troubled dream. H 2 THE TOMB OF HEROES. Av8pS)V yap €Tri(f)ava)v rracrn yr] Ta..V^XX ^J 110 THE DYING PAINTERS DREAM. But to my dream ! Well ! with the Dead I was : that part will soon come true : Sweet Sister ! let no tears be shed ! Ere long thou wilt be with them too. In sleep, at least, I was among The glorious lights of human kind, Whose deeds throughout the world are sung ; Whose thoughts are fresh in every mind. The Masters, in my Art renowned. To whom their Country's memory clings ; The favourites of Monarchs,— crowned With gems beyond the price of kings ; — The victors in that race of pain Where I have been compelled to yield, Were there : — and they did not disdain The vanquished on their hard-won field. THE DYING PAINTER's DREAM. Ill They welcomed me — the weak, the foiled ! They said I had deserved success ; — I, who so earnestly had toiled ; — And wished I had but suffered less. Meanwhile, a beauteous form drew nigh : Smiling she beckoned ; mild command And power benign shone from her eye ; A wreath was hanging from her hand. Methought she led me towards a lake Margined with flowers of every hue : And then she seemed a pause to make, And sweetly smile on me anew. " Thou who hast bravely striven to win Renown," she said, ^' look down and see What mirrored treasure lies within The Lake of Immortality." 112 THE DYING PAINTER's DREAM. I looked ! I saw ! and I felt blessed With joy ne'er dreamed before or known : For pictured on the lake's calm breast Was that conception of my own, On which Hope's latest die was cast And lost. — My life redeems that game : What matter if it bring, at last, Immortal honour to my name ? My head, bowed down with rapture, drooped Like a dew-laden bud beneath Its weight of nourishment. She stooped, And in the lake she dipped the wreath She held. Then, charmed against decay Or blight, she laid it on my brow. God ! let my spirit pass away, And realize the vision now ! THE DYING PAINTER's DREAM. 113 On his closed lids which seemed to sleep, Eternal Peace her seal had set : His sister watched and did not weep ; She deemed not he had left her yet. But those were the last words he spoke ; He never saw another morn Arise on Earth ; — no more he woke, To meet the glance of this World's scorn. SONGS OF THE TEAUSI. Tpnveroi Se rh fiei> riWa iravra Kara ruvra roicn oXXotcrt Opjj^l eiriTeXeovai, Kara 5e tov yivofievov cr(pi Kal oTToyivdnepov ttouvcti t