MR. FAWCETT'S OTHER BOOKS OF POEMS, FANTASY AND PASSION. SONG AND STORY. ROMANCE AND REVERY. Songs of Doubt and Dream (POEMS) BY EDGAR FAWCETT FUNK & WAGNALLS COMPANY TORONTO LONDON NEW YORK y*. Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1891, by FUNK & WAGNALLS, In the Office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington, D. C. CONTENTS. THE BARTHOLDI STATUE i EVOLUTION 6 PEACE AND WAR 7 A NINETEENTH CENTURY KING 9 THE OTHER SIDE OF THE MOON 18 MARRIED BOHEMIANS 20 A RETROSPECT 22 NEBUCHADNEZZAR'S WIFE 23 AT A WINDOW ......... 34 BIRD-LANGUAGE ......... 42 A CITY ECLOGUE *3 MEMORIAL VERSES 48 IN THE YEAR TEN THOUSAND 51 A SLAYER OF POETS 61 PAUL AVENEL .......... 64 THE ASPIRER 68 vi CONTENTS. REVERIES : I. A TULIP-BULB 82 II. "O SWAN, WHAT MEMORIES" 83 III. IN MID-OCEAN 84 IV. " WHILE THE BROAD NIGHT "... . . 85 V. A SQUIRREL 86 VI. " DEAR LAVISH BLOSSOMS " 86 VII. AN AUTUMN DAY 88 VIII. "SOMEHOW I HAVE LIVED" 89 IX. " I FEEL THE HUGE DIM CITY "... . .90 X. To A REFORMER 91 XI. GRASS 91 QUEEN CHRISTINA AND DE LIAR 93 CAPRICE ........... 109 SUB ROSA 113 ANACREONTIC 115 To PAUL HAMILTON HAYNE 116 JACYNTH 117 AFRICAN BALLAD 129 A DIALOGUE 133 LYRIC INTERLUDE : I. "You TELL ME, FRIEND" 134 II. A GRAVEYARD 135 III. IN POVERTY 136 IV. Low LIFE 137 V. "THE YEAR WAS DYING" 138 VI. To E. N. C 139 VII. "THE CLOUDED EAST" 141 VIII. A BLACKBERRY IDYLI . 143 CONTENTS. Vll LYRIC INTERLUDE (Continued}: IX. PIGEONS ... .... 144 X. A DEAD WORLD 145 XL FOR A BOOK OF LIGHT RHYMES . . . 145 XII. ENVIRONMENT 146 XIII. DEATH'S PLAINT ...... 147 XIV. "Ho! FOR DREAMLAND'S HAPPY HARBORS!" . 148 XV. METEORS . . . . . . . .150 How A QUEEN LOVED ........ 152 THE TEARS OF TULLIA 172 THE DYING ACTOR 183 VICISSITUDE 188 Two SCENES IN THE LIFE OF BEAU BRUMMELL . . . 190 THARAK AND THE LION 199 INTERMEZZO : I. THE WOOD-TURTLE 223 II. "ABOVE THE PORCH " . . . . . . 224 III. " SHADOWS HUNG DENSE "... . . . 225 IV. ASTERS AND GOLDENRODS .... 227 V. "ALL DAY THE REAPERS "... . . . 228 VI. To A FRIEND WHO SLEPT ILL . . . 230 VII. "How LONG . . .? " 231 VIII. BABES IN THE WOOD . . . . . 231 IX. AQUARELLE 232 X. "How SAD ..." 4 . 233 XL CRADLE-SONG 235 XII. "THEY LED THE WHITE CHRIST" ... . 236 XIII. "How MARVELLOUSLY ALL THE DEEPS" ... . 237 Vlll CONTENTS. INTERMEZZO (Continued) : XIV. To A LITERARY FOP 238 XV. "THINK NOT" 238 XVI. "AN OLD MAN MUSED " 239 XVII. " I SAW IN DREAMS" . . . . .240 THE CARISFORT CURSE 242 AGNOSTIC AND CHRISTIAN ....... 260 KATE ROMNEY 269 INCONGRUITIES . . . . . . .271 THE MILKY WAY 273 HISTORY 274 ENNUI 275 ILLEGITIMACY 277 THE ICICLE 279 COURAGE ! 309 Sones of Doubt and Dream. THE BARTHOLDI STATUE. ( Unveiled on Bedloes Island, October 28th, 1886) AT last I loom in bronze o'er this wide bay, And from the electric torch my starward wrist Hath raised, for centuries I shall brave in calm The lightning with the lightning. I am bred Of gods, for all high thoughts of men are gods, And he, the poet of sculpture, from whose dreams I rose like Troy from music, well doth know His genius at my summons burst to power. For he was earth, I light, he mortal, I Divinity ; and man regenerate, Shattering old thralls and gyves of shame and sin, Desired me, and so needed I am come ! Or, truer yet, not verily I, but this The symbol of my peace and sanctity ; Since what in sooth I am is knit with laws That whirl far planets round the fires of suns Whose might ye gaze on but as darkling motes. SONX;$';QR DOUBT AND DREAM. tfefl .my-Jirieage, for such task The orchestral winds were tamer than a reed, The blare of oceans weaker than a bird. To learn from what dim ancestries I trace Were to pierce time through aeons back, and pause Dazed at the lintels of eternity. Here is my boon, ye people I would test. Heed that ye use it well ; the choice is yours. Much have ye done, yet much remains to do. Ye fought with foes o'erseas until ye tore This coign of continent from tyranny, Standing thenceforth sublime in solitude Among all nations. Yet ye have not kept Promise with your ideal, and threat to lapse From the white summit of its dignities More than ye grant this hour. Democracy Is louder on your lips than in your deeds. The few grow sleek with gains that make their vaults Harbors of futile treasure ; one throng sweats For bread to breathe by ; one, still vaster, bows In yokes of toil that drag it nigh the brute. I speak not now of drones that drowse in sloth And whose one proper wage is penury. These are life's coarse guerillas that skulk sly THE BARTHOLDI STATUE. At the vague outposts of the gathering fray And deem the rags their vice hath wrapt them in Will pass for poverty's true uniform. The rich among you cannot build their walls, However spired or corniced, friezed or domed, So dense that to the ears these pomps enclose A cry of suppliant agony, demand, Expostulation and untold rebuke Will float not ; cushions have no depth of down And tapestries no plait of silk or wool To dull the imperious passion of that cry. Wan lips of labor freight the air with it Till the new sunshine of each day has grown A mockery of its torment, and the gloom Of each recurrent night similitude Of its dark sorrow. . . Whose the fault ? Not mine, For I am Liberty, and I, Liberty, Am love, not hate am fellowship, not pride Am duty and not indifference help, not harm. Look to it, O people, then, that this the flower Of all republics bloom republican. Let him that paves with bribes his path toward rule Reach the shut doors of senates on maimed feet, Burnt from the plowshares he himself hath lit. 4 SONGS OF DOUBT AND DREAM. Ordain that he who sells his vote for hire Buys with such bargain crime's unflinching fee The chill strait cell, with loaf and jug to drown Conscience in ghastly banquet. Crowd your schools With learning and sweet discipline of chiefs Versed in all wise experience, till their lore Make Athens of your slums, and parents loth To let their children drink at such pure streams, Common as they are pure, be scathed with scorn. Abase the vaunts of caste; your earls and dukes Can win their earldoms and their dukedoms best By that sole patent of nobility A blameless manhood may confer on them, Not by the coronets and strawberry-leaves Dead kings have flung their bastards. Hold your arts In reverence, and revering shield their rights, Till he who tells with chisel, brush or plume Your annals, may not starve at such high task ; For poet, novelist, painter, sculptor, stands Each as a firm caryatid that shall grace The pediment of your unborn renown ! Last, look to it, ye that this mine image here Should spur to chaste achievement, soilless end, Look to it, I charge ye, lest corrosions dire, THE BARTHOLDI STATUE. And stealthy as they are dire, creep not to gnaw With ruin's loitering fang your civic strength. Recall, ye wrested from a thousand kings Your commonweal, and with dry dust of thrones Have blent the wash of sundering seas to make Fit mortar for the granite of its towers. Let them stay firm, ivied with histories Of a most glorious past, that still shall keep One deathless present. Honor knows not time, Being immortal, and man's love for man, If once proved perfect in this faultful world, Hath nor to-morrow nor to-day, but dwells In zones of fame no dials calendar ! SONGS OF DOUBT AND DREAM. EVOLUTION. Two flying forms, in pathless deeps of night, Watched the great spheres about them wheel and flame, And many a planet, where it swept with might Round many a central sun, they named by name. They spoke of races whom the gradual spell Of wisdom won had raised from crime and vice- How hate and sin had made this world a hell, And love had made that world a paradise ! And while they singled, either near or far, Bright orb from orb in heaven's untold abyss, At last one pointed to a certain star, And said, with dubious gesture, "What of this?" " Earth it is called," his musing mate replied, " By those dim swarms its continents beget. Tis a young star; and they that there abide Shall not wear wings, like us, for centuries yet ! " PEACE AND WAR. PEACE AND WAR. A LARGE moon fired the drowsy east, and by the sad strange light she shed, In meadowed sweep, in stony pass, you saw the land was dark with dead. Aloof there loomed one solemn hill, and here a stately spirit stood An awful shape that stooped to wipe a massive sword that dript with blood. So stooping, then, the spirit heard a sound of murmur- ing, mild and low : " At last thy red reign hath an end ; wipe thou thy bloody blade and go ! " i And now the spirit rose to turn his cold contemptuous eyes on one With whose white brow it was as when the morning sea first feels the sun. SONGS OF DOUBT AND DREAM. And front to front as gods they stand, both silent for a fleeting while, War with his harsh hard reckless face, and peace with her benignant smile. War curls his dark lip in a sneer, sheathes his great sword, and answers then : " I go, yet who shall say I go, while hate is hate, . . while men are men ? " A NINETEENTH CENTURY KING. A NINETEENTH CENTURY KING. (He Muses.) IF I believed the souls august Of ancestors that long are dust Beheld me at this hour, 'twould wake Shame in my own soul, keen of ache ! For their dim ghosts would seem to chide From shadowy vantages of pride, Their hollow eyes would seem to hold Remonstrance and rebuke untold, Their spectral lips would seem to rain On my degeneracy disdain. Yet well I know their sculptured tombs Enwrap them with eternal glooms, And if at all their force and fire In spheres remote achieve, aspire, No heed nor knowledge irks them there Of this poor crown I tamely wear This crown they caught and clutched for years Through history's tides of blood and tears. Even now, perchance (who dares be sure ?) In stars unguessed their days endure, IO SONGS OF DOUBT AND DREAM. With memories of their earthly rank Faded to one forgetful blank, And all their splendors of renown Lost in the lots of clod and clown. . . Nay, ghosts I fear not ; many a fear More fleshly steals to haunt me here. For how am I, thus girt by thrall Of quickening freedom, king at all ? My parliaments, whose rafters ring With statesmen's edicts, ask no king. My people, in whom obeisance lay Invulnerable but yesterday, Are now a throng of myriad throats Voicing their individual votes, Dictating laws, ordaining plans In all save name republicans. And they whom my forefathers held Stanchest auxiliaries of eld, My nobles, born custodians, each, Of every verge my sway doth reach, Are stripped of all their state once meant, Save empty and idle precedent. No more about the throne's proud piers They group its guardian halberdiers, With loyalty in their least breath A NINETEENTH CENTURY KING. II And duty another word for death. Their sires' tough mail-shirts they forsake For broadcloth garb of modish make ; In them the rough allegiant oath Is dainty deference touched with sloth ; The swords bold warriors joyed to hurl Are canes that smooth hands lightly twirl ; The intrepid charger, wild of breed, Has grown the equestrian's neat-groomed steed ; The bluff retainers, hot for fray, As liveried lacqueys cringe to-day. What wonder I should deem it strange To rule a realm so swept by change, Where only in legend now may live The sovereign's lost prerogative ? What wonder I should long to flee This hollow and senseless pageantry, That sets me in mimic schoolboy dread As its imperial figure-head Between a thousand schemes, plots, lies, Flaunted the incarnate compromise ! No part bear I in civic strife That pricks conservatisms to life And makes the wound thus dealt them fill 12 SONGS OF DOUBT AND DREAM. With liberty's awakening thrill. Aloof I dwell, by power disowned. A mere tradition crowned and throned ! I sometimes dream that I can trace Insidious mockery in the face Of him who leans most low to kiss My hand, with courtliest emphasis. I sometimes fancy I almost feel Attendants at my side conceal Thoughts they would tremble to declare, Yet whose dumb sarcasms freight the air ! At balls of pomp, while flattery floats Among my beams her myriad motes, While sycophancy's unctuous phrase Forgets the false heart it betrays, While caste from reverent censer swings The dizzying vapors dear to kings, While fashion, where my foot hath trod, Spaniels for one consentient nod Oh, then I hear the night-winds wake Through many a distant dell and brake, Where moon may brood or planet shine On lands that are yet are not mine ! Then yearn I for the bounteous balms Of nature s clamorings or her calms A NINETEENTH CENTURY KING. 13 The unfevered life, the fretless hope, The horizon of divulgent scope, The statecraft of the stealthy seeds, The wide democracies of weeds, The birds' patrician claims of class, The prosperous commonwealths of grass, The ministries of heat or cold, The sun's exchequer of lavish gold, The blithe republics of the bees, The butterflies' buoyant anarchies, The oratory of air and cloud, With leaves for listeners, low or loud, The church of meadow and copse and hill, The ritual of the brawling rill ! Two rival natures in my breast Contend with terrible unrest. One through dead lines of kings I draw, And one through life, love, knowledge, law. One breathes of feudalism that made My sires the autocrats they staid ; One hates the barriers reared to ban His individual rights from man. One, howso'er its chill duress Enchain me, I know for selfishness ; 14 SONGS OF DOUBT AND DREAM. One stirs me to the inmost soul As conscience, wisdom, self-control. One means the past, whose purlieus throng With every emissary of wrong ; One means to-day, whose daring ken Bears priceless promises to men ! . . . Yet strong though each persuasion speak, The instinctive bonds of birth grow weak ; Progress, a spectre keen of eye, Stands at my gate, like Mordecai ; Through many an empty palace-hall Sad voices of the unsheltered call ; I count my glittering gems, and feel What human miseries they could heal ; I read the tales deft scribes have wrought Of how my great forefathers fought, And lo ! their glory of field and flood Hideous with war's reproachful blood ! I scan the Bible in which their pride Found slavery's outrage justified The murder of little children not Diabolic treachery's vilest plot Against a foe shorn clean of sin And from such chronicles I win Disgust in place of reverence, hate A NINETEENTH CENTURY KING. 15 To accuse, not heart to venerate ! Search as I will through ancient things, Divinity deserts all kings ; Delve as I will through things that are, Divinity flies yet more far ; Dream as I dare of things unborn, Divinity ossifies to scorn ! For centuries while their rulers built Empire on rapine, greed and guilt, The people had slept in dreamless trance, Lulled by their opiate, ignorance. But slowly at last they woke from sleep ; Their great sigh surged from deep to deep ; The opening of their drowsy eyes Burned like dawn's flame in cloud-hung skies ; At every stir their roused limbs gave, Some tyranny tottered to a grave ; And when, erewhile, erect they rose, The world was rent with earthquake throes. You people, ah, what resorts have we, Kings, councillors, when such as ye Break bonds whose links we forged and set, To beard us with our unpaid debt ! A little while demur we may, I 6 SONGS OF DOUBT AND DREAM. With this expedient, that delay ; A little while you mark what shade The dial of destiny has made. We smile, propitiate, condone, We parley and quibble and postpone, But in the end no guile will serve You still demand, nor deign to swerve ! people, I know you where you press Against my throne's gilt rottenness ; 1 know your impetus was fed By despotisms of epochs dead ; I know you dowered with might that comes From ancestries of martyrdoms. Inch by stern inch our treasured shrine Of sovereignty you undermine ; You brook no dexterous feints and tricks, No parry-and-thrust of politics. On your rebellions, which are fate's, Legality idly legislates. As well dig dungeons to ensnare The lightning's blade, the thunder's blare ; As well with scourges lash the main Or discipline the hurricane ; As well rear scaffolds cubits high To strangle truth's white throat thereby, A NINETEENTH CENTURY KING. 1 7 Or steal from Time the scythe he bears To assassinate him unawares As well all this, O people in whom Revolt is degradation's tomb, As curb you, crush you, towering here, The immitigable mutineer ! I 8 SONGS OF DOUBT AND DREAM. THE OTHER SIDE OF THE MOON. SHE turns her great grave eyes toward mine, while I stroke her soft hair's gold ; We watch the moon through the window shine ; she is only eight years old. " Is it true," she asks, with guileless mien, and with voice in tender tune, " That nobody ever yet has seen the other side of the moon ?" I smile at her question, answering "yes;" and then, by a strange thought stirred, I murmur, half in forgetfulness that she listens to every word : " There are treasures on earth so rich and fair that they cannot stay with us here, And the other side of the moon is where they go when they disappear ! " There are hopes that the spirit hardly names, and songs that it mutely sings, There are good resolves and exalted aims, there are longings for nobler things ; TIIK OTIll.R SIDE OF THE MOON. 19 There are sounds and visions that haunt our lot, ere they vanish, or seem to die, And the other side of the moon (why not ?) is the far bourne where they fly ! " We can fancy that realm were passing sweet and of strangely precious worth, If its distant reaches enshrined complete the incom- pleteness of earth ! Nay, if there we found, like a living dream, what here we but mourn and miss, Oh, the other side of the moon would beam with a glory unknown in this ! " "Are you talking of heaven?" she whispers now, while she nestles against my knees, And I say, as I kiss her white wide brow, " You may call it so, if you please ; For if any such wondrous land may be, and we journey there, late or soon, Then from heaven, I am sure, we shall gaze and see . . the other side of the moon !" 2O SONGS OF DOUBT AND DREAM. MARRIED BOHEMIANS. OH, Meta, quit the prosy task that frets With seams and hems monotonous of hue, Your two dear eyes, those timorous violets That never yet have lost their morning-dew. For now the city spires are tolling nine, And low the elastic night-wind breathes of June, And lengths of dusky avenues weirdly shine In murmurous life below the summer moon. Take down that blossoming bonnet I adore And let us ramble among the sombre streets ; This embryo manuscript that floods my floor May dry at leisure its chaotic sheets. I leave my heroine hard-beset by fate . . . What merciless torturers we scribblers are ! But then I have promised her to sit up late And end her miseries with my last cigar. How gladdening, now the open air is gained, To feel in mine your soft arm rest and cling ! Thank Heaven its lovely roundness has not waned Since first your white hand wore my wedding-ring ! For though precarious days have hurt me sore Through fears for that sweet wife I would protect The stealthy wolf that prowls from door to door Still treats our own with amiable neglect. MARRIED BOHEMIANS. 21 How many a favored lord or lover true Walks with the woman of his choice, at ease Below this tender sky's more liberal blue, On spacious lawns, to-night, by whispering seas ! For them the illumined sward that sinks or swells, The breeze that wanders over meadowy miles ; For us the sleepy treble of street-car bells, And street-lamps glaring in long fiery files. And yet the ardor of something to attain Far deeplier than attainment may delight; With all our stately castles off in Spain, We still possess them by signorial right. We dine each evening on no sumptuous fare, Yet while the imposing future fails to frown, Across indifferent claret both declare That my new tragedy will storm the town. Ah, lovelier to my soul than speech may name Is the fond thought that if my stars allow, We two shall reach the flowery paths of fame Joined arm-in-arm together, just as now ! But if the austere old gate shall never let Our envious feet those welcome gardens win, Secure from discontentment we shall yet Have all Bohemia to be happy in ! 22 SONGS OF DOUBT AND DREAM. A RETROSPECT. WANDERING where mortals have no power to gauge The enormity of night that space outrolls, Floated or paused, in shadowy pilgrimage, Two disembodied souls. One towered a shape with dark wild-trailing shroud, With face by sorrow and anger seamed and drawn ; One loomed a holy glory, as when some cloud Swims deep in baths of dawn. World after world they gazed on, till beguiled They flew toward earth, and hovering where she swept, One with a saturnine dejection smiled, And one with slow tears wept. " On that star," said the spirit of sombre mien, " As Dante I passed through pain's most blinding heats" . . . " On that star," said the spirit of look serene, " I suffered, and was Keats ! " NEBUCHADNEZZAR S WIFE. 23 NEBUCHADNEZZAR'S WIFE. OVER Babylon's grandeurs one grayness of ominous mist had outrolled ; To their altars the priesthood had hurried, with visages white to behold ; Now the mirth of the shawms and the sackbuts by night or by day did not ring, And the people were huddling in terror, for the curse had come down on the King. They were wailing for Nebuchadnezzar, and none who had heard them could tell If to Asshur in anguish more noisy they prayed than to Nebo or Bel ; For the great sacred river was glooming, as though some fell deed had been done Between Supulat, god of Euphrates, and Shamas, god of the sun. And in street, garden, square, or in temples, with their ziggurats' towering pride, There was lamentation more dreary than if Ishtar the deathless had died. 24 SONGS OF DOUBT AND DREAM. They had heard how the Jewish Jehovah his burden of penance could bring, But they sought the old gods of their people, for the curse had come down on their King. Through the city one deep desolation had banished by spells of affright The turmoil of traffic at noonday or the toss of the torches at night. Over Nebuchadnezzar's vast army one sorrowing stupor would drowse, Alike on the helmeted spearmen and the archers with filleted brows. In the market-place gathered no buyers where the fruit-sellers' booths overran With grapes from Kasvin and with quinces from the orchards of Ispahan. All day on their slabs in the sunshine the eels from Aleppo would bake Unbought near the barbel from Tigris and the black- fish from Antioch Lake. No Assyrian maiden looked longing at the riches that merchants unfold ; At the agates and sards from Choaspes in their fili- greed Indian gold ; NEBUCHADNEZZAR'S WIFE. 25 At the onyxes from Susiana, at the Bactrian jewel or jar; At the pearl-crusted broideries from Persia, or the muslins from Malabar. With safety the ibex would wander on slopes where the tamarisk dwells ; With safety at pools in the meadows would pause the pale-spotted gazelles. Where the eyes of the lions flamed yellow, their sleek bodies trembling to spring, No more betwixt reeds of the rivers the arrows from chariots would sing. No more to far countries Caucasian the venturing huntsmen would ride Where the aurochs in aisles of the forest black-maned and majestic abide ; No more on big beasts lying slaughtered, when dumb was the chase with its din, Would they pour the red sacred libations in homage to Nergal or Nin. But I, in my bonds of bereavement, through reveries no cheer could console, I would pace my long tapestried chambers, on my couches of ivory would loll ; 26 SONGS OF DOUBT AND DREAM. And of throngs that lamented their monarch, unto none came affliction more keen Than to me, his moon-browed Amyitis, his beloved Babylonian queen. He had wooed me with ardors of passion ; he had won me to share his great throne ; For I was imperial, a princess, with lineage as proud as his own. In the halls of my fathers he found me, at the first flush of girlhood's young dream, Where the mountains of Media are mighty and the domes of Ecbatana beam. He had wed me and girt me with worship ; he had built me, to ban my least cares, Hanging gardens where fountains of porphyry played splendid from flowery parterres ; He had clad me in tissues like cobwebs, where diamonds like dew shed their sheens, And the robes of the slave-girls that fanned me were fit for the ransoms of queens. Ah, many an evening together, when sunset its breezes would waft, In the dusk of my silken pavilions the wines of Armenia we quaffed. NEBUCHADNEZZAR S WIFE. 2J Flung below me, his dark brawny beauty from the tiger-skins gleamed to my gaze, And like wrath in the green eyes of dragons his arm- lets of emerald would blaze. But 'twas love, only love, that illumined his looks when they dwelt upon mine, As I called him my conqueror, my hero, my warrior, my chieftain divine. And we lifted our rose-wreathen goblets, we fed upon love's richest fruits, While from clustered acacias came floating the music of Palmyrene lutes. At a word he would gladly have given me the choicest of war-plunders rare, Between walls of the seven-colored temples piled gor- geous in layer upon layer ; Yea, his mandate had molten to please me so dear was my whim's lightest nod The two holy serpents of silver that coiled below Bel- tis, their god ! But the crafty Judaeans he had vanquished wrought slow on the moods of his mind, Till I hated the wizardries guileful that round him like skeins they entwined ; 28 SONGS OF DOUBT AND DREAM. For at last he would come to me sombre where jovial erewhile he had come, And the beam in his dark eye was clouded, the laugh on his bearded lips dumb. Then he spoke of a dream that had irked him, filled full of inscrutable threat, But I bade him disdain and forget it, as kings may disdain and forget ; Yet alike my entreaties or counsels were emptier than air to his ears, And he passed from my portals desponding, though I strove to detain him with tears. Through the morrows that brought him not near me, I languished with longing supreme, And I learned how an Israelite prophet had risen .to interpret his dream ; How monitions that teemed with disaster were spoke, and had stricken him as true, By the man that was now Belteshazzar, but once had been Daniel, the Jew. And no more to my bowers would he wander, and ever my torment was worse, Till at last came the message of misery, the tidings that told of his curse. NEBUCHADNEZZAR S WIFE. 2Q And hearkening I trembled for horror when they whis- pered with gasps of their King That he prowled the great park of his palace, a prone graminivorous thing ! . . Then the frenzy of awe seized our city, as through it this grim story shot, And in tumult, alarm, consternation, Amyitis, the Queen, was forgot. But I spake to my tiremaids with calmness ; I lulled their fierce fears into rest, Though my pulses like snared birds were fluttering, the heart was on fire in my breast. So erelong to the chief of the eunuchs I bade that a message be sent : Untarrying he came where I waited, and low in obei- sance he bent. And I said to him, " Aspenaz, hearken, as thou hast been faithful and true, For strange is the task that in secret thy queen shall command thee to do." Then I told my desire, and he started, and prostrate he fell in dismay, And "O Queen!" he responded, " thy servant but lives thy behests to obey. 3O SONGS OF DOUBT AND DREAM. * " Still, pause . . for too rashly thou temptest the gods in omnipotence dread- But I towered o'er him, quivering with anger, and answered him, " Slave, I have said ! " . . How loitered those leaden-shod moments till midnight made good her mute reign- Till I passed the unchallenging swordsmen that guard my seraglio's domain Till I reached the great hall of the palace, with lines of dim lamps by the score Clinging chained to its big cedarn rafters and starring its long marble floor ! And here through the vague light to meet me came Aspenaz, potent with aid ; Though rebellious at first from sheer pity, at last he had humbly obeyed ; And together in silence we glided past walls painted fair, near and far, With the deeds of divine Hasiadra and of bull-slaying Idzubar. But by narrower corridors wending, we gained the immense palace-park, And I felt the fresh breeze on my forehead rush fleet from the distances dark. NEBUCHADNEZZAR'S WIFE. 31 Just beyond were the dense trees, and o'er them such night as no meanest cloud mars, For all of Chaldea to be wise by, spread legions of sibylline stars. Then, terrace by terrace descending, we stood where the grass dripped with dew. . . " Now," I whispered to Aspenaz, "leave me." . . He shuddered, and softly withdrew . . Like a vanishing phantom I saw him retire and be lost up the slope . . He had left me alone with my longing, my pain, my despair and my hope ! Then I dropped on my knees in the darkness and stretched forth my arms to its air, As though I could clasp and possess it because my beloved one was there ; And I cried , " O my King, I await thee, whate'er be thy doom or thy dole ! Let the gods work their worst on thy body ; not that do I seek, but thy soul ! " Come hating me fear shall not fright me, nor pride my quick pardon efface ! Come mad I will soothe thee to mildness ; come brute-like my arms will embrace ! 32 SONGS OF DOUBT AND DREAM. Come deformed I shall know thee and love thee ! Come hideous thou shalt not repel ! Thou art heaven to me always, though branded with scars from the forges of hell !" . . . Was it wind in the trees? Was it movement of deer through the foliage dank ? I knew not, but listening and yearning, low down in the darkness I sank. Still the sound, stealing nearer and nearer still the sound, creeping close but no sight, Save the lawns that flowed black all about me, and the stars overhead that burned white. Did I dream ? Was the darkness dividing ? Had he heeded the prayer I had prayed ? Then a voice. . . It was his, yet so mournful ! . . " Amyitis, art thou not afraid?" . . " No ! no ! no ! " I flashed forth . . and so speak- ing, I gazed where he grovelled supine, One rank detestation and horror, fit consort for earth- searching swine ! But I shrank not an instant before him ; unreluctant I leaned and embraced ; Had I clung to him glorious and stately, to spurn him now, spoiled and defaced ? NEBUCHADNEZZAR S WIFE. 33 And I cried, " Whatsoe'er thine abasement, low down to it, lord, let me bow ! Though the barrier between us be loathsome, still, love, I am I, thou art thou ! " Night by night we met thus till the bondage that fet- tered and foiled him had ceased, Till he rose once more Nebuchadnezzar, he rose dis- enthralled and released. . . All the people have hailed him with welcomes till their gladness the land hath o'erflowed, But on me, Amyitis, adored one, his dearest of smiles are bestowed ! 34 SONGS OF DOUBT AND DREAM. AT A WINDOW. Dawn drowns the stars while still the city sleeps ; O'er swarms of dusky roofs one pallor creeps. My little chamber-window towers so high That even so shame-beset a thing as I May get some sort of kinship with this chastity of sky. Once I was clean of spirit as are they, Maidens, that dream pure dreams, not far away Maidens, with marriage-vows from lovers true, With love .to shield, with no rash deed to rue, With all life budding like a rose and sparkling like its dew. How shrill the heavy carts go clattering past Clattering while shattering this dead calm at last ! And hark ! off yonder, where the dulled lamp flares, A woman blends with the wild oath she swears Laughter that, ere you lose it, seems half sin's voice, half despair's. A few short years, and I shall be like her, Unless death strike me first, and so deter The black degeneration that must wring AT A WINDOW. 35 From my lips, too, below its goad and sting, Curses and blasphemies like those I heard that harlot fling. There is a door-yard where this morn of May Broods on the lilacs with their flowers in spray ; There is a threshold I no more shall cross, Dim with the desolation of my loss However lightly o'er its verge the vines may flash and toss. And I am here wife, mother, daughter, I That was all three, slew each, yet fail to die ! Whose madness was a challenge hurled at fate, Who hear my own stabbed conscience moan " too late," Who, though I had won home's heaven of love, dared the world's hell of hate ! I sometimes dream that I can look on those Deserted for the infamy I chose . . That I can see him sitting with bowed head Among the children I have forfeited, And by his bloodless cheek discern how his torn heart has bled ! Perchance a child may come to clasp his knee And question him in wistful words of me, 36 SONGS OF DOUBT AND DREAM. And answering, he may struggle to conceal The outrage and revolt he still may feel, Yet mould to a lie of mercy all his language might reveal. I value not that peace whose calms begin When pity-of-self plays juggler with our sin ; I am not one to stammer ere she name The length and breadth and blackness of her blame ; My shame stares naked at me now, nor less nor more than shame. I might in time have paused ; the abyss I grazed Was not so bowered in bloom but had I gazed Closelier I could have seen, beyond its rim, That dizzying sweep to degradation's dim Lair of the imperilled life, the broken and bleeding limb. So, then, the bound being taken, I arose Maimed, staggering. He that sprang with me ? God knows Whither his coward feet unharmed had fled . . I had fallen, and fame, repute towered lost o'er- head . . I had fallen ; abased and thick with thorns the path I now must tread ! AT A WINDOW. 37 % Wounded, I have trod it. Lower, year by year, It slopes, and ever loudlier I can hear Voices of memories, loves, remorses, roll And echo and interblend amid my soul, Reeling toward darkness where even death might shudder while it stole. Nay, death's corruptions are to stains like these Purity ! . . and alas, by slow degrees I sink ! for it was only of late I let Wine work its opiate freaks with my regret, But nightly I now desire, need, crave the trance its fumes beget ! How sluggishly that tired boy slumbers there, With brow so white beneath his gold of hair ! I wonder if awakening he at least Will know me? or had recollection ceased Long ere we met last night, he giddy and fevered from his feast ? At any moment round him he may peer, While mists of stupor from his vision clear ; And then, remembering, he may strive to show A vestige of the kindly and tender glow His frank young eyes turned full on mine a few brief hours ago. 38 SONGS OF DOUBT AND DREAM. And then . . the night's dead spell, the day's live beam Off my true self will mercilessly seem To strip its cheat and sorcery, till I stand Before him, scathed and blemished with that brand Of crime whereby his worthier self was ravaged and unmanned. But he alertly as would some breeze that flings A loose leaf from the stalk whereto it clings, Will cast all remnant of disgrace aside So soon exonerated, justified, That even the mother who bore him might perchance forget to chide. " Men will be men, and youth is fire, not snow ; Wild oats were meant for such as he to sow In merrymaker's folly or drift of whim . . He's plenty of time to grow sedate and grim " . . How surely all the old commonplaces hedge and shel- ter him ! But ah, we women ! if we fall, we fall ! Our cup is brimmed, and we must drink its gall Down to the dregs, whatever bane they be ! AT A WINDOW. 39 No chance of pity, of hope, for such as we ! . . How sternly all the old commonplaces crush and shat- ter me ! I, woman, if I sin, must face the doom Of one drear future's ignominy and gloom ; Pardon, for me, grows unrelenting scorn ; My mirth or tears, though I may laugh or mourn, Are loathsome as the vesture that a leper's body has borne. Repentance has for me no boon of peace, No rehabilitation, no release ; Protest, prayer, supplication all invite A losing battle ; I feel, howe'er I fight, The dagger of odium pierce me and the scourge of censure smite. Meek charity, ever rich in healing balms, Has naught for me save pauperdom's cold alms ; The liquid eyes of love itself have grown A gorgon's glare that changes me to stone . . What wonder I still sin on, being so forsaken, so alone ! For one at least may get the chance to win A kind of ghastly comfort out of sin ; A comradeship is here, however vile, 40 SONGS OF DOUBT AND DREAM. A human interchange of speech and smile, A power by some faint spark of cheer guilt's night- mares to beguile. And he erelong will rise and go his way, Forgetting me, I doubt not, in a day ; On him indulgence and exemption wait ; His fault as mine was every whit as great; But ah, he is man, and therefore could be safely profli- gate. What mockery is at root of laws that rust In creeds of preelection so unjust? If sin be sin, what preference bids it scan With lowering looks of punishment and ban The woman it enslaves and soils, yet pause to absolve the man ? Hath he not made his path of daily use Teem with extenuation and excuse ? Customs and codes that for the man express Freedom, are wrought the woman to oppress ; Woman must bend herself to these, or break below their stress ! I, shall I stumble on with burdening gyves? . . The city wakes, yet from its myriad lives AT A WINDOW. 41 Which of them all than mine draws wearier breath ? Ah, still, at least, whate'er the proud world saith, Even one debased as I may reach the dignity of death! I think the meanest life can somehow save A trace of hidden grandeur for its grave- Something that speaks to impious or devout Through just this going away and passing out Into the mystery and the dark, the silence and the doubt. I, if I went like that, might thrill to see Eternity between my shame and me ! Might leave the accursed part I well may spare, Here like a garment flung for beasts to tear, While she who had worn it rushed to find some refuge . . God knows where ! To close the eyes to clench the teeth to steel The nerves, no matter how your brain may reel Or the heart thunder in your breast and ears ! Then, leap ! . . and onward, then, through all time's years, Oblivion follows, voiceless victor of disdain's worst jeers ! (She leaps into the street below.} 42 SONGS OF DOUBT AND DREAM. BIRD-LANGUAGE. HARK, love, while through this wood we walk, Beneath melodious trees, How wrens with redbreasts ever talk What tuneful words they please. Lured by their feathered clans and sects, The listener lightly notes Those airy and dulcet dialects That bubble from birds' throats. Ah, joy, could we once clearly greet The meanings gay that throng Their silvery idioms and their sweet Provincialisms of song ! No graybeard linguist, love, could vie With our large learning, then ! You'd speak to me in Redbreast ; I Would answer you in Wren ! A CITY ECLOGUE. 43 A CITY ECLOGUE. At times it is my choice to go Where spread the city's regions rude, Where poverty clasps hands with woe And all is dingy desuetude. Nor do I nurse this nomad mood When night hangs dark o'er lairs forlorn, But when day's full divulging glow Smiles ignorance and sin to scorn. I seem at hours like these to know The miseries and misdeeds of man In piteous nudity that means How slight a variance intervenes To part myself from those I ban As bordering on barbarian. I mark a hundred coarser throes Of mind and heart than one may meet Where sweeps the daintier-tended street Below patrician porticoes. Here greed forgets its fang to hide ; Black envy scowls with hardier hate ; 44 SONGS OF DOUBT AND DREAM. Here from the inclement eyes of pride A fiercer flame will scintillate. In raw contempt of codes that chide, The quick curse leaves the reckless lip ; More frequent fume the froths of strife ; More blunt the jeers, more bold the lies, As though from loins and limbs of life Rough candor strove with zeal to strip Its best expedients of disguise. Yet even amid such movements made By poverty's drear masquerade, Continually I discern Similitudes at every turn Between the souls with want o'er-weighed And those whom kindlier fate has lent Prosperity's enfranchisement. . . This trundling dame, with ragged gown, Who prowls in gutters to secure Stray refuse purer than the impure Flotsam and jetsam of the town, What feint of fancy bids me find The imperfect portraiture in her Of caste's contented dowager ? Environment, with sombre thrall, A CITY ECLOGUE. 45 Has bid her forage thus for bread ; One stroke of change, and lo, she had led Serene gentility in all The proud pomp of its choicest ball, Brocaded and bediamonded ! . . Or yet the inactive tramp who lolls, Enticed of drink he cannot buy, Near some blurred window that outrolls What lures hot thirst through avid eye How light the differences that lie Between this idling sot and him Who courts the drunkard's death where trim Attendants wait, in club-rooms fine, With walls and floors of rich array, And pour from crystal flasks the wine That helps him hurl his life away ! . Or yet the pale worn girl you see Go hurrying with her bundled work To them whose niggard wages free Her days from penury's worst irk- How easy amid that chestnut hair And in those tired eyes' wistful gaze Where stars inalienably dwell, To mark the beauty a ball-room belle Might nurture with unceasing care 46 SONGS OF DOUBT AND DREAM. For fashion's poor brief hour of praise ! . . What touch of foppery may we note In this mere tatterdemalion's air Who sticks a dropped flower in his coat, A rusty hat-brim sideways tips, Winks gaily, and smiles with unshorn lips, And shows that through some grave mischance In evolution's onward flow By nature he was born a beau, This rowdy of random circumstance ! . . Or, yonder, watch the itinerant wag Extol his trumpery curbstone ware With copious words that never flag, As witty as they are debonair. What embryo orator is there ! One push, and destiny's dark hands Had lifted him to shine elate In senatorial debate, The idol of constituent bands Not then, as now, with railleries rank, The street-boy's peddling mountebank ! Even thus, in countless ways like these, Resemblances, analogies, Loom clear between the limits twain A CITY ECLOGUE. 47 Of rich and poor, of toil and ease, Of bitter need and bounteous gain. Alas ! that equal sunbeams rain Sweet largess on all men alike, While men themselves to ruin strike Those bonds of kinship that should bind Their race in one consentient kind ! 48 SONGS OF DOUBT AND DREAM. MEMORIAL VERSES. TO COURTLANDT PALMER. HOWE'ER we speak of death as of an end Whose pale oblivion touches all alike, Still, when some sturdier man of help and use Deserts the dignities he wore so well And makes them seem like hollow garments flung Where late they clad him fair in favored life, Then those that here on earth have missed him most, Whether to sadly doubt or strongly trust, Say, as they grieve and dream, " There should have been Some loftier and more honored exodus For such as he, so lifting him elect Above this cold democracy called death ! " But no ; the impartial shears of Atropos Cut with the same twin blades each mortal strand. Death has no privilege, no preemption, no Allotment, appanage, prerogative. Over one narrow threshold, with nude feet, The mightiest or the meanest pass and fade. Yet always there are gifts the dead may leave MEMORIAL VERSES. 49 The living, and as I muse on him we mourn, About the pathos of his absence, rise Columnar memories, like the marble art That clothes a temple ; for he sought to find, If rightly I judge, amid the turbulence And hurry of our brief days, a trysting-spot Wherein all theories, creeds, philosophies Might with harmonious intercourse convene, And win, by mutual tolerance, as time fled, That wisdom intellect alone may reap From the fair tree of knowledge, when we slay Its worm of prejudice that gnaws the root. "Come, all," he said, with invitation sweet, With clarion hospitality, "come, all ! Taste this new liberal sacrament that brooks Believer, Deist, Pantheist, Atheist, Jew, And blend in comradeship about its board ! Ye men of church and ritual, guard your tongues From too impetuous fervors of defence. Remember that the Christ ye so adore Was guiltless both of spleen and arrogance ! No hot polemics fumed in Galilee; No peevish ironies of pulpiteers Blared rancorous from the ' Sermon on the Mount.' Ye men that bow to Science as your god, 5