THE ROSSLYN SERIES EDITED BY IV EARL HODGSON. Vestigia Retrorsum BY Arthur J Munby THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES VESTIGIA RETRORSUM v By the same Author. Vehses New and Old. Bell & Daldij. London, 1865. Dorothy : A Country Story in Elegiac Verse, with a Preface. 1st Edition: Kegan Paul, Trench, Sf Co. London, 1880. 2nd and 3rd Editions : Roberts Brothers. Boston, U.S., 1882. Cheap Edition, in the Seaside Library : Munro. New York, 1882. Vulgar Verses, in Dialect and out of it. By Jones Brown. With a Preface. Reeves Sf Turner. London, 1891. " Vigorous and picturesque, not in the least vulgar, are the ballads of ' Vulgar Verses.' " — Saturday Review. VESTIGIA RETRORSUM POEMS BY ARTHUR J JV1UNBY London EDEN, REMINGTON & CO PUBLISHERS is KING STREET COVENT GARDEN 1891 [All Rights Reserved] ?K 6~l cri P^zzf \r CONTENTS. PAGE Descriptive and Imaginative Pieces. The Vales of Medvvay • 3 Realities... . 18 Wordsworth . 24 Milestones • 2 9 The Widower • 35 Reflective Pieces. Justice ... • 43 Will . 46 Out of Heart • 5 2 Our Creed • 55 Expediency • 59 1888 . 62 Illusions ... . 64 Fallentis Semita Vitse . 69 A Pilgrimage .. 76 Poems on Nature and the Seasons. Echoes ... • 83 Kvirpis ?} *IfA€po<; . 86 Gracilis Amnis • 89 Autumn Leaves • 9 1 Ings • • 94 Apocalypse • 96 A Farewell to the North ... .. 9 3 941 VI CONJENTS. PAGE Love Lyrics and Poems. Maiden Alice An Encounter Naughty Nelly Hartlip Woods Ifs and Buts Alter et Idem Parted ... Too Late Epithalumium ... 105 ... 108 ... no ... 112 ... 114 ... Il6 ... II9 ... 122 ... 126 Sonnets. A Dead Queen Rhododactyl Incedit Regina Sorrow ... Ore Tenus Descensus Averni... March Meadows ... Flos Florum A.D. 1590 Amoris Integratio... Varium et Mutabile Beatrice... Christmas ... 131 ... 132 ••• 133 ... 134 ••• 135 ... 136 • •• 137 ... 138 ... 139 ... 140 ... 141 ... 142 ... 143 NOTE. A few of the sonnets in this volume are reprinted, with permission, from " The Academy." All the other pieces are nozv published for the first time. The sonnet on Beatrice is of special interest. At the invitation of the Italian Committee in charge of the recent Beatrice Exposition at Florence, meant to commemorate the first meeting of Dante and Beatrice, which happened in May, and the death of Beatrice, on June 9, 1290, many sonnets and other poems in honour of the occasion were written by Englishmen, Americans, and others, as well as by Italians ; and Miss R. H. Busk, whose intimate acquaintance with Italian life and Italian folk-lore made her a valuable ally, was good enough to represent the Committee in E/iglaud, and to forward for their acceptance the poems written in England. The Beatrice sonnet in this volume is one of these. Along with numerous others, it ivas " diplomated " by the Italian Committee : a fact which, at any rate, shows that Mr. Munby's view of the storicita of Beatrice was not unacceptable. viii NOTE. " Vestigia Retrorsum" is a remarkable contrast to " Vulgar Verses," a book, written mainly in dialect, dealing with working folk only, and pro- jected almost entirely on their level of experience and attainment. Such a book, also, — but sketched from a higher point of view — is "Dorothy," a poem which has had wide acceptance in America, and has even achieved a certain measure of success in its own country. The present volume has nothing to do with hard hands, or female labour, or any such thing. It deals with gentler and loftier themes, dwelling on them in such moods as may be expected from one who is exercised by t In- quest ions of his own time, and saddened by the fast- fading, fast-narrowing beauties of the land he lives in. The Editor is sorry that the elegiacs in this volume do not uniformly appear in self-contained lines. English elegiacs have as much right to the dignity of a broad page as a Greek or a Latin hexameter. It would not be well, hoivever, to have volumes of different sizes in the same series. IV. EARL HODGSON. London, May. 1891. DESCRIPTIVE AND IMAGINATIVE. THE VALES OF MEDWAY. Spring ! She is with us again, in the air, in the stream, in the wildwood; Giving the world once more freshness and odour and joy: Giving it more than these — the sense of a great resurrection, Life springing up out of death, hope overcoming despair. All mankind who dwell in the. live and natural countrv, Far from the toys and the trade, far from the arts of a town, 4 DESCRIPTIVE AND IMAGINATIVE. All mankind who dwell in the presence of innocent Nature, Now are afield and alert, finding their forces anew : Also the beasts and the birds, our quiet and happy companions, Fill'd with a new-found life, welcome existence again. Nature herself is alive; the infinite earthborn crea- tures All come at once to the birth, struggle at once to be born. Oh, 'tis a thing to be seen, to be heard, to be felt, to be ponder'd, Such an uprising as this, old as the hills though it be. Here on the Med way flood, where a hundred bright little islands DESCRIPTIVE AND IMAGINATIVE. 5 Shine on the broad full title, stars of its widespread- ing blue, Here are the ships coming in, with sails fullset to the breezes, Types of the hope that appears, fraught with adven- ture, to us : And on the hundred isles, on the beautiful breast of the waters, Sunlight gleams and glides, changed with the change- able clouds. Here on the Medvvay hills, where the land slopes suddenly seaward, Green grows the flush of the corn, moist with the lustre of dew. Yes, and the old brown woods, though they seem still dead from a distance, They too are filling with life, quick with the pulses of Spring : 6 DESCRIPTIVE AND IMAGINATIVE. Witness the steel-like sheen that glosses the bark of the saplings, Witness the tassell'd blooms hung from the willows below. What should I speak of the banks and the wild and wandering hedgerows, What of the lanes between, winding from village to farm ? Beautiful they with buds, the red-nippled buds of the hawthorn, Harbouring too in the grass nests of the earliest flowers. Also by hamlet and fold, by many a trim cottage- dwelling, Each with its ivied porch, each with its old hooded well, Daffodils nod at the gate, and wealth is abroad in the- garden — Silver of snowdrop tufts, crocuses given for gold. DESCRIPTIVE AND IMAGINATIVE. 7 Now come away to the fields, where the men of the country are working ; Men — aye, and women too — working all day with a will : Here in the vale hard by, stout women are barking the hop-poles ; There are the men at plough, cheerily guiding the teams ; Yonder, where lasses and lads in summer time wend to the milking, Now they are standing a-row, each with her shovel and sieve, Opening the straw-cover'd hoard, where fodder is kept through the winter, Sifting the bad from the good, food for the cattle and swine. Hark ! from yon high grey Downs the tremulous musical sheep-bells 8 DESCRIPTIVE AND IMAGINATIVE. Call us to come and behold all that our shepherds can show ; Who with their low-wheel'd huts abide in the field for the lambing, Watching night and day over the weak of the fold. Ah ! from those high grey Downs, what a height, what a scope, of enjoyment ! Songs of the mating birds heard in the hollows afar — Songs of the lark in air, or the clamorous chirp of the starlings, Seated aloft in crowds, talking together at eve. You who would know what it is to rejoice in the beauty of England, Come to these high grey Downs ; come in an even- ing of Spring — Come in the Autumn noons, or come in a sweet Summer morning — DESCRIPTIVE AJVD IMAGINATIVE. 9 Stand upon Darland Heights, gaze on the glories around ! Look to the east, far down, where the broad white Roman highway Scores the green flank of the hills, stately and sound as of old : Look to the east, far down, where Medway sweeps to the ocean, Meeting the broader Thames, surging away to the Nore. There, by the tall sea banks, by the low rich pastures of Essex, There go the ships, far off, bearing the wealth of the world ; Bearing it on with the tide, to the port and harbour of London, Bearing it thence in turn out to the ocean again. Near, o'er the Medway stream, look down on an humbler traffic — 10 DESCRIPTIVE AND IMAGINATIVE. Fishermen's craft alone, barges and boats of the shore: Yes, and yon giant hulks, where soldiers live as in barracks, Learning their terrible trade, disciplined daily to war. Ah, look away from them, look away from the forts in the channel (Needed and wanting once, soon to be needed again), Look to the smiling shores, to the villages set in the woodland, Orchards and red-roof'd farms, churches and castles and all. Then to the west turn round, and see right on to the landward, Fold upon fold, the hills rising like waves of the sea : But at your feet, low down, lies the silent valley of Darland, Winding in many a curve up to the highlands afar; DESCRIPTIVE AND IMAGINATIVE. 11 Steep are its purple sides, where folded flocks are a-sl umber, And on the further slope, warm in the depth of the vale, Cluster'd hop-poles stand, like the tents of an army encamping, Soon to be severed and ranged, soon to be leafy and green. Over against us here, on the opposite height, on the summit, Hempstead stands alone, grey with its gables and barns ; And from Hempstead farm, right on to the western horizon, Fold upon fold, our hills rise like the waves of the sea ; Crested with high dim lawns, and tufted with copses and timber, Till on the lucid sky loftier ridges appear. 12 DESCRIPTIVE AND IMAGINATIVE. Yes, that is Bluebell Hill, that far in the golden distance Looks over Maidstone town on to the Garden of Kent ; Looks on those fallen fanes, that wonderful House of the Druids, Oldest of all things old now on the face of the land. See, into this fair scene, these hills and valleys and waters, Comes the majestic sun, sobering down to his rest : He, who was shining above, unapproachable sovereign of all things, Now, at the eventide, friendly, familiar and near, Glows among purple clouds, his solemn and mourn- ful attendants, Dies as a King should die, gracious and calm to the end. DESCRIPTIVE AND IMAGINATIVE. 13 Then, what a triumph of life, what a gorgeous apotheosis Mounts from the place of his death up to the zenith on high ! Then, what a blaze of light, of various infinite colour, Out of his open tomb springs like a fountain of hope ! First, through those purple clouds, and under and in and around them, Bars of ruby red, vivid, intense as a flame ; Paler crimson above, and mellowing softening saffron Melt through a liquid green into the ultimate blue: Up to the final blue, where clear cold stars are awaiting, Till with the luminous dark they shall have leave to appear. Come, come away — let us go ; let us saunter silently homeward — Under these clear cold stars, under this luminous sky; 14 DESCRIPTIVE AND IMAGINATIVE. Thinking, with hearts that are full of enchanting and exquisite beauty, "Ah, what a land is this — ah, what an Eden is here! " Yes — what an Eden is here, if men were able to know it, Able to see with their eyes, willing and able to feel ! But they are not: not a man, nor a child, nor even a woman Cares that the land of their birth still should be pure as of old. What? If they loved greensward, sweet air, and life-giving waters, Would they stand mute, as they do, seeing all these disappear? Seeing their mountain-lakes fast stolen and spoilt by the stranger, DESCRIPTIVE AND IMAGINATIVE. 15 Seeing the streams of the vale blacken'd and poisonM and foul ; Seeing the air they breathe, the needful breath of their nostrils, Changed into filthiest gloom, acrid with sulphur and soot; Seeing their hideous towns, their mean and comfort- less dwellings, Sprawl o'er the innocent fields, ugly and aimless and bare : Yes ! for Beauty is dead, and the excellent craft of the builder Fail'd, when the builder himself ceased to be honest and true. What shall be done then for these — for a people besotted as this is, 16 DESCRIPTIVE AND IMAGINATIVE. Making such haste to be rich, caring for nothing but greed ? Nay, if they will not turn, and ask of their fathers before them How to discern the Good, whether in Nature or Art; How to transmit it, increased by the labour of each generation, Weeded of evil, indeed, but with a delicate hand ; Never destroying a good, except for the sake of a better, Hating the bad alone, keeping their vengeance for that : Nay, if they will not turn, there is blackness of dark- ness before them ; Lurid with lights that lead only to uttermost hell : Indolence sapping their wealth, and cowardice offei'd for courage ; DESCRIPTIVE AND IMAGINATIVE. 17 Knowledge that is but a name — bastard of folly and pride; Peace trodden down by war ; divine Humility dying ; Reverence shamed with scorn ; Love going out in despair. 18 DESCRIPTIVE AND IMAGINATIVE. REALITIES. Whenas the feebled sun is fading in the sky, And trees forget their leaves brown which on the earth do lie; When cattle stand in yard and sheep are in the fold, I walk abroad, and with my heart this grave dis- course do hold. Oh Heart, that livest long withouten love or joy, Hast thou perceived what lovesome things great Winter doth destroy ? The summer clouds so fair, and shining of the sun On golden com in harvest days, are wholly past and gone : DESCRIPTIVE AND IMAGINATIVE. 19 The little birdes all, which build their nests in spring, No more unto their merry makes at morningtide do sing; And every flower so sweet in greenwood where it grew, Hath lost its savour long ago, and all its pleasant hue. Then, Heart, consider well, and sadly say to me If these so happy things must die, what shall be done for thee ? I would 'twere done for me (thus doth my Heart reply) — That same which shall be done for them when Spring is in the sky ! But thou, beholding thus the creatures from afar, Hast neither eyes to see nor wit to know them as they are. 20 DESCRIPTIVE AND IMAGINATIVE. For as a field cloth lie beneath the plower's hand, To drive therein his furrows smooth across the yield- ing land ; Or as the sower's grain that 'twixt each furrow lies, According as he sow'd the seed, shall certainly arise: Right so, with soulless things, God makcth them to know Within themselves what thing to do, and in what wise to grow ; But me, that am His child, and foster'd for His own, He will not tell me what shall be — He leaveth me alone ! I may not hear thee thus, thou villain Heart and base ; Some light of God is surely there within thy dwell- ing-place ; And if thou art to fade, and wither and decay, So also do those happy things before they pass away* DESCRIPTIVE AND IMAGINATIVE. 21 Nay (saith my Heart, and sighs), if that were all, I ween Thou shoulcPst not hear me sighing sore for trouble and for tene : But look now toward the west, and toward the east also, And see how still this Earth doth lie a-waiting for the snow ! Her working year is done ; her deeds are with her there ; Upon her breast her children all lie orderly and fair; Her grain is garner'd in, her flowers live in seed, Her fruits are stored in chambers sweet for cyder or for mead ; Her kine shall calve again, her ewes grow great with young — Her birdes shall sing blithe to her as ever they have sung ; 22 DESCRIPTIVE AND IMAGINATIVE. And every living thing once more shall have his fere, And unto every living thing his make be lief and dear. For why ? Her life is led by reason and by rule; She hath no need to learn her babes, nor put their wits to school : They know their parts aright, they are not fools and blind, But apt to lead their little lives according to their kind ; And if there be of hers some stubborn froward child, She helpeth well the husbandman to make him nesh and mild. So thus it comes to pass, as wretched men may see, That Earth and all her soulless ones are blest in their degree: They ask not where to go, nor think that aught can cease, They only walk in God His ways —and all His ways are peace. DESCRIPTIVE AND IMAGINATIVE. 23 But thou (my Heart did say), which talkest thus with me, I know thy mind doth work apace, and will not let thee be : And for myself, to tell 'twere pity and 'twere pain The tithe of what I have endured, and must endure again. For me, no later Spring shall rouse the birdes small, Nor fetch forth buds on that old tree which long ago did fall; For me, no cunning hand shall sift the wheat andstraw, Nor ever from the musty lees a mellow mead shall draw. I move, where'er I go, whatever things I see, Among the wreck of hopes and joys which once were part of me ; And what is lost, is lost : who mourneth, then, but I, Which know that Sorrow endeth not, and Passion will not die? 24 DESCRIPTIVE AND IMAGINATIVE. WORDSWORTH. In Nature still Glorying, I found a counterpoise in her Which, when the spirit of evil reached its height, Maintain'd for me a secret happiness. — The Prelude, Book xii. She, whom we loved and courted in our youth, And courted not, yet loved unconsciously, "While the bad world was with us, and all truth. Pity, and grace had almost ceased to be : Nature, mild guardian of the wise and good, Friend of the meek and lowly, and by whom True manhood lives and pious maidenhood, To her, to her, we will return at last, Repentant of our follies and our crimes. Ah, what an irrecoverable Past, DESCRIPTIVE AND IMAGINATIVE. 25 What dreary days and nights of grief and gloom, Since those far-off but unforgotten times When she was mistress of the opening soul — She, Nature, and the God that guideth her ! Smooth and unchecked the sacred seasons roll, And after all this fret and fume and stir Of middle life, its hurry and its care, Spring lays her blossoms on the old man's heart As if it were a maid's. But can he bear That fragrant burden ? Every year, a part Of what in him was touch'd with vernal jov And warm'd by summer suns, is dying down, Till autumn finds no leafage to destroy, And winter, only winter, is his own : Winter, not glowing in the pure delight Of new-fain snow, the fancy and the pride Of icicle and wreathen-drift, made bright With morning, or by solemn sunsets dyed 26 DESCRIPTIVE AND IMAGINATIVE. In splendour of their own ; but dusk and dim — Dark with foul ways and many a shadow made By storm-cloud, and with chill remembrance grim Of powers misspent and sympathies dtcay'd. Yet from decay may grow the better mind. One man alone, in this at least supreme O'er all the generations of his kind, Beheld deliverance : not as in a dream, But with the clear-eyed certainty of noon Beheld and heard it. Long with reverent ear He heard the secrets of the sun and moon, •Stars, earth, and sea, the mountain and the mere. And told of them to others ; and to me, Who, blest with sight of his serene old age, Saw for myself, with what sweet majesty Nature endow' d her poet and her sage. Far be the strife of envious sects, and far The grasping outrage of felonious trade, DESCRIPTIVE AND IMAGINATIVE. 27 And all things else that could defile or mar, From that green turf whereof his grave is made— His grave, where lilies grow and daffodils, Fast by the murmur of the stream he loved In Grasmere, guarded by his native hills. For he it was, who never once removed (After the great catastrophe, the fall Of France, that shook his being to the core) His faith from that which underlies us all ; From Nature, whatsoever shape she bore, Or aspect, grave and gloomy, glad and gay — From Nature, and the God that guideth her. He never left the consecrated way That best became him as her minister : So, not unmindful of the Cross of Christ And Him who hung thereon, his verse supplies Airs of the elder Heaven, fresh breezes spiced With odours from that sinless Paradise 28 DESCRIPTIVE AND IMAGINATIVE. Where Man was rear'd, and might be dwelling still If Woman had obey'd. Ah, what avails Obedience now, to uncreate our ill In woman or in man ? Yet this avails — His teaching, and the eyes wherewith he saw, If we could have like insight; it avails To follow him, pure prophet of our law, Priest and exemplar of the creed we own. If friends depart, if riches use their wings, If love decay'd should leave us all alone, Are we alone ? Oh, no ! Far better things, Even on this earth, are with us if we choose. Age cannot spoil, nor Sorrow's self destroy Our blessing, have we courage but to use The sympathy, the comfort, and the joy That Nature, only Nature, can confer; Whose heart, whose voice, whose features, all employ In us, the good that God employs in her. DESCRIPTIVE AND IMAGINATIVE. 29 MILESTONES. We rode, we rode, Bay Beauty and I, When a sweet spring morn and an opal sky Spoke well for the things to come; And Beauty fear'd nor fleck nor foam — For the white road, set in its soft turf, seem'd Like a Milky Way that glitter'd and gleam'd Right on to the heaven of home. Bay Beauty, my steed, was swift and strong ; And she glanced and gazed, as we moved along, With a clear untroubled eye : For Beauty, perhaps, was wiser than I — But hers is an innocent creature's plan, Which a man with a soul, a thinking man, Would be rash indeed to trv. 30 DESCRIPJIVE AND IMAGINATIVE. The first mile out, we came to a dell, Where children playM round a village well, And women came forth to draw : Bay Beauty was pleased with the folk she saw — But she saw not the children's stunted lives, Nor the mothers who never were wedded wives, Nor the drunkard's murderous paw. The next mile out was a charming spot, Made fair with the fair forget-me-not That grew by a river side : Two lovers there Bay Beauty eyed — But she knew not that even if love be true, There are festering follies that sunder in two The bridegroom and the bride. The next mile out, we passM through a town, Where some were hooting and hunting down, And some were harried like hares : DESCRIPTIVE AND IMAGINATIVE. 31 Bay Beauty look'd on with her prancing airs — Yet this is the way how men agree With those who seek to be wise or free In a way that is not theirs. The next mile out was a gruesome sight ; For a sombre man, with a face like a blight, Had a message, he said, to tell : Bay Beauty started, and it was well — For as she sprang from him, the message I heard Was nothing at all but a single word, And that single word was — Hell. Oh, fast and far from that prophet of ill, By heath and hollow, by holt and hill, Bay Beauty fled with me : Her spirit was fresh, and her pace was free — Though never a milestone came in view But something to scorn, or something to rue Our eyes were sure to see. 32 DESCRIPTIVE AND IMAGINATIVE. There were those who suffer, and those who sting, And the gay that weep, and the sad that sing, And the wicked who dwell at ease : Bay Beauty and I look'd over the leas — But she saw nothing, and I saw this : That there was not the ghost of a Nemesis Following after these. And we saw by the road, from mile to mile, The rich man's house with its insolent smile Standing stable and sure: And we saw men striving to kill or cure — By making or mending of rules and laws Amid hostile yells or fond applause — The perishing and the poor. And we saw those wounds which the selfish rage And the grasping greed of a vulgar age To our piteous Earth has given : DESCRIPTIVE AND IMAGINATIVE. 33 I think it shock'd Bay Beauty even — Beholding the ruin of rural shades, And the shameless plying of sordid trades At the very gates of heaven. Alas ! for the man who rides ahead Till his brain grows dim and his heart grows dead With a hope too long deferr'd : The hope of a voice that is never heard — The calm pure voice and the flawless light Of stately Justice, and conquering Right, And Love's almighty word ! But the last mile out I remember well ; For there Bay Beauty stumbled and fell, And struck me as I lay : She struck me once and gallop'd away — And I vow'd to God that I would not rise, Till a spirit be in me to make me wise, At the Resurrection clay. 34 DESCRIPTIVE AND IMAGINATIVE. Bay Beauty, my steed, has never come back ; She gallop'd away on her own white track To her own untroubled home : She is freed from the rein and the crimson foam — And I lie here in my lonely grave Till I crawl out hence, like a startled slave, Into the Life to come. DESCRIPTIVE AND IMAGINATIVE. 85 THE WIDOWER. Man that is born of woman dwells Not wholly, as my story tells, Among his business of the day; But Fancy hurries him away, And Hope looks forth, and Memory Is busy with the things that die. So, often when the working; brain Is stirr'd through pleasure into pain, When Fame or Fortune, dearly bought By stress of action or of thought. Have left no leisure, while we strive, For men to feel themselves alive; 86 DESCRIPTIVE AND IMAGINATIVE. E'en then (and how much more when they Who make the strife are far away) I too am led, but not by Hope, High up the visionary slope That leads to Heaven, and to her Who once was Heaven's own minister. I think she did not die too soon : For on that night the harvest moon Shone clear upon our gather'd sheaves; And here and there the aspen leaves That nestled near her window pane Were touch'd already with the stain Of autumn's beautiful decay. Also, what time she pass'd away We all were with her; on the bed Her father and her mother shed Their tears; her child was there, and I — I too, could see my darling die. DES CRIPTI VE AND IMA G1NA TIVE. 37 Yes, friend, she did not die too soon : She might have lived till every moon That rose within our wedded years Brought only trouble — only tears ; She might have seen her child go wrong ; Might have survived so much, so long, That all which had been sweet and good — The honey of our daily food — Was emptied from its clammy comb, And home itself no longer home. Who, reasoning on the solid ground Of things within him and around, And judging by the sunder'd lives Of fifty husbands, fifty wives. Can say it would not have been so ? And then, this is a world of woe : Had we two loved and kept our truth As dearly as we did in youth 88 DESCRIPTIVE AND IMAGINATIVE. Through fifty years of wedlock, say, What then ? Th' inevitable day Were all the harder to be borne When one of us is left forlorn Of such a long beatitude. Ah, so you tell me! And my mood Persuades you that I do not grieve Too much, it seems : you don't perceive, Now she is dead, that I fulfil My days with less of sober skill To make a living, than before : I do not cry behind the door Like girls; nor blubber in the street ; Nor make wry faces when we meet : And if I love my child, why yet I never nurse that puny pet As if its little face could be Half what its mother's was, to me. DESCRIPTIVE AND IMAGINATIVE. 3$ No! I'm not broken — scarcely sad : And you, good friend, are very glad I am so settled and so calm; You think I must have found the balm That tempers to our mortal sense These hard results of Providence. Well — each one has his grieving fit, And each his way of bearing it : But, do you know, the death, the life, Of her who was and is my wife Are on me every day and hour With even more of plastic power Than when she was alive. You stare: My friend, it is not everywhere Grown men will show their feelings; she Who is the better part of me She knew them, and she knows them, all. W hat do I care for grave or pall ? 40 DESCRIPTIVE AND IMAGINATIVE. For those who faint and those who fail The world within us is a veil, Thank God, to hide the world without : There is no shadow of a doubt In me, when I am all alone, No least mistrust, no lightest tone Of sorrow, that ean shake or stir The heart which I have left with her. REFLECTIVE. JUSTICE. Starry Justice sits on high Clear above the clouded sky Judging men. We shall see her, you and I ; We shall know her by-and-bye : Ah, but when ? When she severs good from ill j Sifts the motive and the will From the deed ; Sets them with unerring skill In her own calm light, until All can read. 44 REFLECTIVE. When she looks with scornful eyes On the wisdom of the wise, And her sword Cleaving through each brave disguise Bares and quells the enemies Of the Lord. When she lays the tyrant low; When her mission'd lightnings go Fierce and strong Through the world, that all may know Saint from sinner, friend from foe, Right from wrong. When she lifts the trodden poor; Opens wide her palace door As they come To the peaceful and the pure ; Making these for ever sure In her home. REFLECTIVE. 45 Bruised heart and tearful eye Seek her dwelling-place, and cry When, ah, when ? And the steadfast stars reply : You shall see her when you die — Not till then. 46 REFLECTIVE. WILL. I. Art thou he, said the Child to the Man, Art thou he that has narrow'd my ways, And stinted my life to thy plan, And darkened the mirth of my days ? Art thou he that has placed me at school To learn what thy minions shall teach ; That has cow'd me by rod and by rule, And order'd my thoughts and my speech ? Art thou he that would have me believe In the God whom thy fathers adored ; That art wont to be angry and grieve When I fail in the fear of the Lord ? REFLECTIVE. 47 Go to ! I have none of thy needs ; Thy tasks I shall never fulfil ; I abjure both thyself and thy creeds : I adhere to the fact of my will. II. Art thou he, said the Woman to the Man, That has spoken so frankly of me ? That has dared to attempt what he can Towards the setting my sisterhood free? Thou hast help'd us a little in fight, Knowing well that the woman who can, 'Tis her duty as well as her right, To stand on a level with man. But what then ? Do I owe thee for this More thanks than a spendthrift might pay Who barters his faith for a kiss, Or squanders his substance at play ? 48 REFLECTIVE. Not a whit ! I will give thee for thank Just this little piece of advice : Not to think it so wise to be frank — Not to offer thy wares without price. Who gave thee a mission to speak Of things that we all of us knew : How maids should be modest and meek, And wives should be tender and true ? Who bade thee so rashly reveal The history of women obscure : How they think, how they act, how they feel, How they suffer, being trampled and poor ? Not we ! We can listen, indeed ; But we know how to pay thee again : For honour, to those of our breed, Does not mean what it means with you men. REFLECTIVE. 49 Have a care ! If you come to disgrace None can say that we did it; and still You may haply be fool'd to your face By the might of a womanish will. III. Art thou he, said the Man to the Man, That has visions so vapid and vain, Of an effort, a purpose, a plan, Running on through these ages of pain ? Art thou bound to the leaves of a book ? Art thou clasp'd in the claws of a creed ? Dost thou hide in some dreary old nook From the day which is dawning indeed : From the day that is brighter than youth, And fairer than beauty or fame ? The day when impossible Truth Shall consent to be only a name • 50 REFLECTIVE. The day when a better new birth Shall revive every soul but thine own ; When no monarch shall reign upon earth Save enliffhten'd self-interest alone? *D Dost thou flee such a prospect as this, And hate it, and sullenly say- That the gloomy old shadows were bliss Compared to so dreadful a day? Oh ! fool, we have done with the Past, And the Future is formless and vague; But the Present, the Present, will last : All else is a snare and a plague. Belief? Look at Jonah of old (You know that ridiculous tale ?) ; Well, we've got rid of creeds ; and behold, Our Jonahs can swallow the whale ! REFLECTIVE. 51 'Tis an excellent diet; you see How favour, and power, and gains, Come thronging to fellows like me, Who know what to do with their brains. Then be ruled ; do not stand on the brink, Waiting long for the impotent thrill Of a conscience : you have but to think, And to act, and to be — what you will. 52 REFLECTIVE. OUT OF HEART. Out of heart, because the times are moving Faster than our settled pace can move : Out of heart, because the art of loving Is not perfect as the power to love. Out of heart, because the folk of station Are not earnest, are of shallow mind ; And, for reverence and imagination, Those less lofty are but fools and blind. Out of heart, because the new days o'er us, Brilliant doubtless, but severely cold, Never, never, shall again restore us What they take in beautv from the old. REFLECTIVE. 53 Out of heart, because we are not learning Freedom's noblest lesson and her last — How to rear the fruits of free discerning In the stately gardens of the Past. Out of heart, because no human guiding Fits mankind for triumphs that endure ; Wisdom self-controll'd and self-abiding, Purest aims and methods also pure. Out of heart, because belief is failing, Old creeds dead and new ones fond or foul ; Little left to cheer the weak and ailing; Little left to stay the manly soul. Out of heart, because ourselves are erring, Always feebler than the good we know ; Much within us still alive and stirring, Which might well have perishM long ago. 54 REFLECTIVE. Yes, indeed, for many an ample reason We who live such lives and must depart, After living thus so short a season, Well may falter, well be out of heart. But of one thing Time has not bereft us, One thing is ; and, be it weak or strong, Hold by that, if nothing else is left us : That, the living sense of Right and Wrong. REFLECTIVE. 55 OUR CREED. What, you are forty-five, and yet Your heart is living still ! A thing which most of us forget, Or do our best to kill — A thing not worth your while to heed, Much less to prate about ; Which even women scarcely need, And men are best without. 'Gad, Sir, some error of your life Has left this dross with you ; Perhaps you've wed a weakly wife, So you've grown weakly too ? 56 REFLECTIVE. Come, look at me ; I'm cool in head, And clear in brain, you know; And why ? Because my heart was dead, Thank goodness ! long ago. What says your Shakespeare in the play ? He gives my verdict, too : For, " Throw the worser part away, And then," says he, " you'll do ! " That fellow Shakespeare's right, for once; And as his words advise, All, save the idiot and the dunce, Will act, if they are wise. For what is life? Success, my friend — And evermore Success ! Ask, Is not that its aim and end ? And all will answer, Yes ! REFLECTIVE. 57 But who the devil can succeed, Whatever be his part, If in the race of thought and deed He's weighted with a heart? o That spoils his work before it's done; That cancels half his gains; He cannot live till that is gone — Because he lives by brains. And what have brains to do with heart ? Why, to the clever few, They're just the power and the art Of using fools like you ! Brains, fed with knowledge of the time, And needfully employ'd, Can help a man to climb and climb O'er other men destroy 'd. 58 REFLECTIVE. Brains have help'd me to wealth and blood, In spite of all your airs ; And if you like it, well and good — And if yon don't, who cares ? REFLECTIVE. 59 EXPEDIENCY. Maid of the dim mistrustful eye, The measured smile, the well-timed sigh, I think 1 know when thou art nigh — Expediency ! When generous natures, frank and bold, See suffering wrought by steel or gold, And cry Avenge ! Thou criest Hold — Expediency ! When fervent spirits wait and wait To do some service for the State, Thy wisdom— leaves them to their fate, Expediency ! 60 REFLECTIVE. When buoyant youth, full fond and fain, Strives upward still, nor strives in vain, Thy voice recalls him to the plain, Expediency ! When lofty age proclaims on high Some newer true philosophy, Thy careful prudence whispers Why ? Expediency ! When faith, made strong by some pure creed, Would dare and do, would fight and bleed, Thou will dissuade her from the deed — Expediency ! When rapt affection yearns to make Some sacrifice for Love's sweet sake, Thou bidst her from that trance awake — Expediency ! REFLECTIVE. 61 Not seldom is thy counsel sought; Not few the teachers thou hast taught ; Thou hast not tamed the world for naught — Expediency ! Dear as the fruit is to the tree, Dearer than freedom to the free, Art thou to some — but not to me, Expediency ! 62 REFLECTIVE. 1888. Full swiftly stride the evil years, And they were best away, If all their dangers and their fears Would pass as swift as they. But, no, the dangers threaten still, And still the fears increase: They mar our lightest hours, and kill The memory of our peace. Once the bright age moved stately by With honour, with renown j And all our land was harmony, And Virtue held her own ; REFLECTIVE. 63 And those who toil'd and those who fought, Wherever they might roam, Still glow'd with one undying thought — That England was their home. *o Ah, how unlike the days we see ! An England soil'd and worn, Where Wisdom scarcely dares to be, And Hope is left forlorn ; Where no man fears the settled fate Of him who loves a lie ; And no man knows, that every State Must be at one, or die. 64 REFLECTIVE. ILLUSIONS. What, said the wise old World, wilt thou never have done with illusions ? Art thou a weakling still, always in tears or at play ? Spending thy heart, like a child, on the broken toys of remembrance, Or upon stars that shine mockingly, dimly above ? Inaccessible stars ! thou hast no wings to attain them : Inaccessible years ! never again to be thine. Leave them : neither expect, nor greatly care to remember ; Only come forth and do whilst it is called to-day : REFLECTIVE. 65 Work is the life of a man, and facts are the food of his spirit : Facts, that are swarming around ; work, that is here to be done. Thus, thou art strong and alive with the breath of the warm live Present ; Thus, thou art seen all around, clear in a shadowless noon ; But if thou darest abide with fancies misty-colossal, Or among churchyard lights flickering over a grave, Then shall the far-away Past, or the fatuous hopes of the Future, Hurry thee out of thyself, hither and thither at will. Out of myself? O, World, wise World, prolific of counsel, This, then, is all thy word, this is thy message to me ! If they can bear me away from Self that is slave to the Present — 06 REFLECTIVE. Future and perish'd Past, how should I welcome them both ! Yea, and they do: they arouse a nobler self and a truer Out of this shallow thing, troubled and tainted by thee; And from thine arduous dreams, and the press of thy hurrying phantoms, They can deliver it well; they, and they only, can save. What are thy boasted facts, and this work that thou s°ttest before us — Science with all her crafts, preaching and talking and trade ? They may be good by kind ; but the man who is buried among them, Can he be lord of his soul ? Can he be fully alive? Life, that hath light and shade, and Memory, which is its shadow, How can they flourish at all, steep'd in thy shadow- less noon ? REFLECTIVE. 67 Flowers and birds are awake in the cool pure prime of the morning ; Perfume and song revive under a mellowing eve; But in the hot faint glare, in the blinding blaze of the mid-day, Nature and Love lie dead, Passion and Melody cease. So, when the Future appears, far off in the glow of her grandeur, How is she naked and clear, tender and lovely of hue ! All who behold her rejoice, for they hear the music of angels Haunting her down to the earth, hasting her on to be born. Yet, when she is so born, and men can say she is Present, Straight her visage is marr'd, batter'd, and broken, and changed ; 68 REFLECTIVE. None do worship her now, and they who had yearnM for her, hate her, 'Till in our sight she dies ; dies on the cross of her shame. Is she then dead ? Oh, no j she lies in the grave for a season, Wins from a few sad hearts weeping and mourning and woe ; But, ere once they have found a tomb that is worthy to house her, She shall arise again, perfected into the Past : She shall arise, and ascend to a growing and limit- less glory ; Glory that none may eclipse, vivid and stable and sure ; Glory that never shall end ; for the Present alone is illusion; That which is real is far, that which is true is unseen. REFLECTIVE. 69 FALLENTIS SEMITA VITjE. There was a man, in days gone by, W hose heart tormented him mightily, Because the ways of his time were such That for all his wishing and wearying much He could not feel alive. They are alive, and only they, Whom Truth hath found and fetch'd away From self into simplicity To work her will and thrive thereby As human souls should thrive. But Truth is peaceful, and Truth is one : And he saw nothing under the sun But a hopeless tangle of words and deeds, An endless battle of schools and creeds — A dreary strife and dull. 70 REFLECTIVE. The friends and the foes, they groan'd or cheer'd ; And the standers-by, some laugh'd, some sneer'd ; And the rest went forth and took no heed, For they did not fight for school or creed, But to fill their bellies full. The Popery folk went proudly by With their sensuous worship of ear and eye ; Yet the worshippers' hearts were hearts of fire, Fill'd with a saintly pure desire For the things of a spirit-land. And the Protestant folk, to them was given A simple faith that went straight to heaven ; Yet their worshippers' hearts were foul with ire, Fill'd with a narrow and fierce desire For a sword and a strong right hand. And they who offer' d their novel array To make up for the faith that was passing away, REFLECTIVE. 71 What is this gear their prophet sells ? ' lis the old, old yoke, and without the bells — 'Tis the cross, but not the crown. And they who ground the Godhead small, And held that knowledge was all-in-all, That the spirit of man must take its chance In a world of bettering circumstance Of knowing what can be known, Large was the look of their lofty pride ; Clear and splendid and open-eyed • Yet they only shone remote and far, Remote as the vaguest nebula-star, On his soul that Iong'd for light. So the world of speech was ever at strire : But the mute world lived a wholesome life, And glow'd or gloom'd at even and morn As if we men had never been born Or never had learnt to fight. 72 REFLECTIVE. " 1 will arise and go," said he, "And ask of this hateful mystery, Why Nature's purpose is not like ours ; For she never wastes her matchless powers In struggles without an end. " Her rain comes down on the earth's dry crust, Her sun shines forth because he must ; Her stars are bright in a frosty sky, Her waters roll most bounteously, For foeman or for friend ; " Her thunder even, that clears the air, And her winds that sweep the forest bare, And her secular changes, vast and wild, If yet they are hard to be reconciled, We see that they work for good : " They work their work and have done with it : And the blue sky suffers never a whit, REFLECTIVE. 78 And over a dead world, soon or late, The creatures spring and germinate, And the earth renews her blood. " I said I would seek to Nature's shrine : But I dare not, since she is thus divine; How could I ask of a Power like this, So wise, so mighty, so passionless, Why her ways are not like ours ? " Should I say to her stately forest trees That gather a blessing from every breeze, ' What is the creed your sap receives ? Which are your philosophic leaves, Or your Christian buds and flowers ? ' "' Fool ! ' they would answer — and even now I hear their voice in each rustling bough — ' We are at one with our mother the Earth : She gives us life, and she gives us birth, And she gives us a timely grave. 74 REFLECTIVE. " ' But you, who talk of we know not what, Who say you have something that we have not, Alas, if the thing that makes you men Be this that sets you at odds again, 'Tis a thino; we would not have ! ' " o Such was the voice that came to him, That man with the troubled heart and dim ; And he cried aloud in his misery " Oh, shallow and sordid our souls must be That cannot feel alive ! "There lives more life in a summer day, In the flight of a bird that wings its way Joyously under the greenwood glades Where Beauty bides in her own sweet shades, Than truth can ever give ! "Truth ? It is true, as I said in youth, That Beauty herself is the only truth : REFLECUVE. 75 Beauty, who dwells with Nature there In the clear cold calm of the open air, Alone and undefiled. " Surely, by her may a man get free . From self into simplicity : Surely, the soul that cleaves to her By priest nor yet philosopher Shall never be beguiled. " Yea ! For we know what we cannot prove : And knowledge itself is less than love : And he who loves shall feel alive, For sacred Beauty to him shall give The heart of a little child." 76 REFLECTIVE. A PILGRIMAGE. I went in search of God O'er all the hallow'd ground That Saints have ever trod ; But He would not be found. I sought Him then in vain In every meeting-place Where men expect to gain Some glimpses of His face : I sought Him yet once more — Among the wise of heart ; But if they knew His lore, They only knew in part : REFLECTIVE. 11 And those who knew it best, How blank they seem'd and dim, When shameless they confessed They nothing knew of Him ! So then I turn'd aside Toward that favour'd few Whose faith is firm and tried, Whose lives are tense and true : For where should He be seen, If not with such as these ? How saintly, how serene, Thev seem'd, when on their knees ! And some were so indeed : Yea, all were most sincere ; Hut then, they felt no need To be as others were ; 7H REFLECTIVE. And so, no heart could raise Their narrow thoughts and low : They knew His clearer ways — Himself they could not know. Ah, then I sank at length To languor, to despair : I had no heart nor strength To seek Him anywhere : For, did not every road My weary soul had trod — The narrow, like the broad — Still lead away from God ? Then something said to me " Since thou no more can'st roam, Surely 'tis time to see What cheer thou hast at home : REFLECTIVE. 79 "'Tis time to understand, Since He will have it so, That God is close at hand Whether thou wilt or no; " That spite of all thy sin, Which lies to Him most bare, His kingdom is within, And He Himself is there.'' POEMS ON NATURE AND THE SEASONS. G ECHOES. Sweet Echo, throned above the lucid wave, Within thy resonant cave, What is this place, sweet Echo, dost thou know ? She answer'd, No. Then, if thou know'st not, tell us at the least For whom this glorious feast Of form and colour, this fair scene, is spread? She answer'd, Read. How can we read ? For neither tree nor flower, Nor rock, nor ruin'd tower, Unfolds its hidden legend to our eyes? She answer'd, Rise ! 84 POEMS ON NATURE AND What, shall we climb thy crag, and there perchance See plainly at a glance Some mansion, gay with many a gilded vane ? She answerM, Vain ! i Must we then rise in stature of the heart, Till Earth in every part Seems fill'd with pathos and with poetry ? She answerM, Try. So shall we learn, by any sight or sound Of this green vale around, Who own its beauty and its power to bless ? She answer'd, Yes. And will each soothing sound and sober sight Be felt with more delight Bv him who owns the land, or by ourselves ? She said, Yourselves. THE SEASONS. *b Ah ! then, fair Nature's joys are his alone Who wins them for his own By insight, not by ownership at all ; Love her but wisely, and she gives them all — Said P:cho, All. 88 rOiaiS ON NATURE AND Ki>7rpL<; rj ,v I/u,epo PARTED. Why are your eyelids warm with tears While mine are dry and cold ? Why thrill you so with hopes and fears At all that you behold, While my unhappy soul endures The good things and the bad, And is most callous still, though yours Be joyous or be sad ? You seem so weak, yet are so strong ! Your vividness and grace Embolden right and baffle wrong Through all your dwelling-place. UO LOVE LYRICS AND POEMS. What would J give to enter in Where your light footsteps cease; To feel your energy within, And be, like you, at peace ! How can you be so firm and true And tranquil as you are, And not make me as tranquil too, And tenderer by far ? Ah, but I know ! There's nothing strange In wonders such as these : It is not that I cannot change, Or you no longer please : It is not that my heart is cold To pity and distress, Or that I care not as of old For truth and righteousness. LOVE LYRICS AND POEMS. 121 No, it is you ! You would not be What once you all but were ; You took your love away from me, And left no other there. So, though to your pure life and laws My memory is most true, You cannot help me now; becausi I have no part in you. 122 LOVE LYRICS AND POEMS. TOO LATE. I would not woo, nor wed, For wasting of my prime : I scorn'd my heart, and said To-morrow was her time; To-morrow, not to-day, Such busy souls as mine Might fling some hours away, Might some high hopes resign, For her, That fretful heart divine, That fond idolater. LOVE LYRICS AND POEMS. 123 She yielded to my will : Yet not at once she died ; Oh, long she struggled still, Oh, long she yearn'd and sigh'd ! But I, imperious grown With honours and with fame, Had strength to thrust her down And hush her bitter blame, Till she Lay heap'd with squalid shame Far out of sight in me. And time serenely roll'd ; And all the world was kind ; And I grew sleek with gold, And mellow-ripe in mind ; Until, by evil chance, I saw a vision sweet : With self-forgetting glance, With soft unshadow'd feet 124 LOVE LYRICS AND POEMS. And shy, I saw the wraith advance Of young Simplicity. Then to my heart I cried That long was bound in me, " I will no more deride Thy loves, oh heart, and thee : Though once I wish'd thee dead And would not let thee thrive, Thou art of heavenly seed, Thou surely art alive: Then come, Arise, and let me lead My youth's fair fancies home." Yes ; she arose, and broke Her bondage and was free ; But ah, she only spoke These fearful words to me : LOVE LYRICS AND POEMS. 125 " Too late ! Thou art removed Beyond what I can cure ; Thou never hast been loved ; Thou art not meek nor pure. Oh, fool ! To love, and to endure, Is better than to rule." 126 LOVE LYRICS AND POEMS. EPITE1ALAMIUM. Winter is over and gone : Ah ! me, what a desolate yearning All of us lately have felt, wishing that winter were past ! Winter is passing indeed, and Spring with its joys is returning ; Sunshine and beauty and life visit our dwelling at last. Oh ! then what bliss there will be, in the beautiful haunts of the valley, Watching the leaves as they come, watching the flowers appear ; Walking in warmth and light, and loving to linger and dally, Ever with eager hearts, sharing the growth of the year. LOVE LYRICS AND POEMS. 127 Full are our placid streams ; and the peaceful ponder- ing cattle Stand by the riverside, taking their portion of ease : Taking it calmly and slow, for they reck not of life as a battle ; Nay, for to them 'tis a feast: provender up to the knees. We, too, gazing abroad on the woods and meadows around us, /^?have our portion of joy ; we, too, can gather it there : Gazing far further afield, beyond the horizons that bound us, Over the height of the Downs, into the musical air. Is not our churchyard hill, where it looks on the wandering waters, Is it not haunted by Her, fairest and best of her time ? Do we not know of a truth that She still lives in her daughters — Onward from grace to grace guiding them up to their prime ? 128 LOVE LYRICS AND POEMS. Sorrow has been with us all ; but joy, in a wonderful fashion, Grows from the rooted Past, springs to the heart, to the tongue : Joy in another's joy — in the thought of an innocent passion Born at the fount of Love, into the souls of the young: We, who have sorrow'd and lost, we still can rejoice with another Not by our years outworn, not by our follies beguiled : We, who have known what a charm there was on. i in the life of the mother, Now shall behold it again, here in the face of hei child. SONNETS. A DEAD QUEEN. Here dwelt she, with the husband of her youth : "A daughter of the gods, divinely tall And most divinely fair," she gave to all Her lovely presence, and the tender ruth Of sympathy and succour; with such truth And earnestness she gave it, that the gift Out of ourselves ourselves had power to lift, And make the roughness of our so:row smooth. Ah, still she gives it! Such a gracious thing Was that fine rapture of ethereal joy Wherein she moved, that all the shores of Love Still echo with its music ; and do sing To us, in tones that nothing can annoy, Of Her, who is around us and above. 132 SONNEl'S. RHODODACTYL. To rise by moonlight of a winter's day And see the soft mists lie like folded lawn On stream and valley, not to be withdrawn Till all those black moon-shadows pass away ; To watch the skies grow clearer, and the grev Melt eastward into colour — thinly strawn Amber and rose, that through a cloudy dawn Suffused, shall make it beautiful as they : In such a twilight glow, to walk abroad Beyond the garden and the avenue Up to yon heath, where by a quiet road- Our Druid Stone stands central to the view And sees the sunrise: Ah, what we have owed To this ! For we have seen the sunrise too. SONNETS. 183 INCEDIT KFGINA. From her long, languid, dull monotony Of leafless days awakes our budding year ; It is the old, old story : doubt and fear, Sun-gleams that vanish in a clouded sky, Are with her at the first; but presently Her light grows calm, her storm clouds move away, And in some sweetest hour of some sweet day She finds, for them who love and can descry Her moods, a place wherein the harmony Of sight and sound, of splendours new and old, Fulfils itself in Autumn's peaceful gold. Ah, no ! There is a discord : suddenly Across the fields of harvest we can hear Chill winter whirlwinds, piping loud and near. 134 SONNETS. SORROW. Sorrow, my guide, my teacher, and my mate, To whose divine companionship I owe All that I feel and much of what I know, Think not thou scorn, O Sorrow, that my fate- Hath brought me nigh to such a potentate, Yea, such a king, as thou art. Men may grow To love the cross they bear; and even so Should I love thee, whose pomp of sombre state Is with me always. I have seen thee send And pluck his morsel from the lips of Joy In mid-fruition : yet art thou a friend Even to the bliss thou seemest to destroy. Thou art more tender far, and far more fair, Than she who else would haunt me — dumb Despair. SONNETS. 185 ORE TENUS. From rock to rock, in early hours of hope, We climb'd exulting; and by many a fall Still undismay'd, we scaled the mountain wall. And ranged awhile along that upper slope Where the last Alpine flowers have leave to ope Their daring petals to a summer sky ; And these we cull'd, but could not pass them by, Nor gain those rarer heights, to seethe scope Of morning from the summit. Therefore now We turn ; and each, as he foregoes his share Of ultimate achievement, sees below The common level of distress and care To which he must descend. Ah, but we know Our Past will still be with us, even there. 136 SONNETS. DESCENSUS AVERNI. Nor this nor that, nor any other thing Can rouse us, in the autumn of decay, To that high rapture of a former day Wherein we could not but rejoice and sing. Summer may ripen the crude buds of Spring ; But we have seen the summer pass away Long since, and seen our callow mates grow grey, And know what fruit Armida's gardens bring. Chill Winter is already on the air, Charged with white storm and loud destructive blast : Nor could our lessening Future seem as fair, Though full of calm, and gracious to the last, As those bright toys for which we used to care — The unfulfill'd ambitions of the Past. SOyiWKTS. 137 MARCH MEADOWS. A thick white mist lies heavy on the vale — Heavy, and soft, and cold : on either hand, Ghosts of themselves, the trees and hedges stand, Nor black nor green, but vaguely dull and pale; And in the clotted air, our lambs' weak wail Is stifled ; and a silent spectral band Of cattle moves across the shadowless land, Wherein all forms are blurr'd, all voices fail. Ah ! me, how like is this our stern sad Spring To Life's yet sterner autumn ! Such a mist, So cold, so formless, from the Lethe-stream Rises and spreads, and blots out everything That we have keenly loved and warmly kiss'd ; Till we, too, are but figures in a dream. 138 SONNETS. FLOS FLORUM. One only rose our village maiden wore; Upon her breast she wore it, in that part Where many a throbbing pulse cloth heave and start At the mere thought of Love and his sweet lore. No polish'd gems hath she, no moulded ore, Nor any other masterpieee of art : She hath but Nature's masterpiece, her heart ; And that shovv'd ruddy as the rose she bore. Because that he, who sought for steadfastness Vainly in other maids, had found it bare Under the eyelids of this maiden fair, Under the folds of her most simple dress. She let him find it ; for she loved him too As he loved her : and all this tale is true. SONNETS. 139 A.D. 1590. So do they love, Aemilia and her lord, That neither knows the other's faults at all Save bv confession : which mav scarce befal, Because some kiss anticipates the word. Nor do their virtues larger scope afford Of self-delight, or knowledge mutual ; Since each believes their own too weak and small To live unaided by the other's hoard. Thus they abide in childlike ignorance If either owe the other aught of ill, Or if the one have anything of good Except the other. Oh, most blessed chance, More subtle-sweet than art, that hath this skill To blend two souls in such beatitude ' 140 SONNKTS. AMORIS INTEGRATIO. II I might choose, my fellow-servant said, And shyly tum'd her glowing cheek away, If I might choose, which never till to-dav Was wooM by man nor by myself betrayed, I would not be thus shamefast, thus affray'd : For neither joy, till now, nor tyrannous love, Nor loneliness, did ever me so move But that I wish'd to live and die a maid. And yet, she said, I am not so dismay'd By that great mystery of married souls, Whereby each serves and also each controls, And either is the other's light and shade, As that I could not bring myself to see The dear delight of being a part of thee. SON NUTS. 141 VARIUM ET MUTABILE. She whom I loved, who loves me now no more, Hath two conflicting natures in her soul : And one of these she gave me ; gave it whole, And with an innocent emphasis did pour That self of hers, full-brimm'd and running o'er. Into the heart I oflfer'd her : a bowl Homely perhaps, yet neither slight nor foul, And apt to hold the treasure that it bore. But then, her other self arose and cried Against my gift, against her plenitude Of sweet acceptance; and in alter'd mood Sudden she flung that lifted bowl aside. So, all the love therein, both hers and mine. Lies on the sand, blood-red, like wasted wine. 142 SOX NETS. BEATRICE. (Firenze, 9 June, 1890.) Some say, fair Beatrice was a name And nothing more, to Dante : 'twas his mind And not his heart that chose her, and design'd For her pure spirit such an heaven of fame That none are counted meet to share the same, Save Mary Mother, of all womankind. Wisdom alone — supreme, elect, refined Into abstraction, was our poet's Dame. Oh fools ! The master-passion of a soul So prompt with noble purpose, so absorb'd In quest of all beneath us and above, Was it then nothing ? Ah, how false, how foul, Were such a life, did it not stand full-orb'd In the warm radiance of a woman's love ! SONNETS. 143 CHRISTMAS. Our Christmas is a time of make-believe : We carol still, we who are growing old, Beside the grave wherein lies stark and cold All that once warm'd and gladden'd Christmas Eve. Ah, yes ! We do it that we may not grieve Our children ; lest they also should behold, Through mirth and music, amid gifts and gold, The one sad face that never can deceive — The face of Sorrow. For on Christmas Day Sorrow was born ; who came on earth to die Vainly : how vainly, none, alas ! can say Who hath not heard believers strive and cry ; Who hath not felt, on this bright bitter morn, That if our God can fail, we too were best unborn. THE END. THE ROSSLYN SERIES Edited by William Earl Hodgson. VOLUME I. — SONNETS AND POEMS By The Earl of Rosslyn. With a Portrait of the Author. Crown 8vo., 7a. 6d. " Grace and simplicity, a happy facility of expression, and verse that has a dulcet flow, distinguish Lord Rosslyn's sonnets. Whether it is the sonnets of personal or social inspiration, or those of medita- tion, or the memorial sonnets, or the sonnets of places — and in these two latter sections we find the best of the poet's work — the poetic impulse possesses the poetic form as a guiding, controlling, inspiring force." — The Saturday Review. "Many of the sonnets are models of treatment and form." — The Daily Telegraph. " Sweet and tender sympathy of many kinds is their very key- note." — The Morning Post. " The sonnets are always harmonious and sometimes eloquent." — The Pall Malt Gazette. " The poems are full of the domestic sentiment in its romantic and most pleasing form." — The Free-mail's Journal. " Lord Rosslyn's volume appears at a moment unusually astir with the books of Browning and Tennyson ; but neither Tennyson nor Browning has anything to show finer in texture than certain sonnets in this work." — The Fife Herald. " Lord Rosslyn's work is touched with culture ; it has sincerity and elegance." — The National Observer. " So smoothly and gracefully do his lines glide, we notice few traces of the labour that must have produced them. His sonnets are always pleasant to read. The heart of the writer speaks in them, and it does so in unimpeachable English. There is no slovenly work here, no false imagery, no lack of taste." — The Spectator. Eden, Remington & Co., 15, King Street, Covent Garden, "W.C. VOLUME II.— THE NEW DAY By Thomas Gordon Hake. With a Portrait of the Author of Dante Gabriel Rossetti. Crown 8vo., 5s. " His manner is his own — without Shakspearean echoes, and entirely modern. No one can fail to admire his management of the form he has chosen, marked as it is by easy and firm connectedness and by expressive and unforced completeness in the final couplets. We doubt if anyone has used the measure better since Shakspeare's self." — The Athenaeum. " His sense of mystery and fascination of nature is as keen as ever, and finds delicate expression in these thoughtful and melodious sonnets.'' — The Saturday Review. " Dr. Hake's style, it will be seen, is agreeably individual. He has his own methods of expression, which tend rather to careful simplicity than to elaborate picturesqueness." — The Globe. " Dr. Hake is to persons who are acquainted with the less generally read verse of the last thirty years a very well-known writer indeed." — The Manchester Guardian. " No student of Victorian poetry can now pass by his work un- examined, and the volume under discussion has been awaited with interest. ... In descriptions of nature, Dr. Hake was specially strong in his earlier volumes; and, in this respect, the present sonnets show no falling off." — The Academy. Eden, Remington & Co., 15, King Street, Covent Garden, "W.C. VOLUME III.— OLD AND NEW By Walter Herries Pollock. With a Portrait of the Author. Crown 8vo., 5s. "Mr. Pollock's work is always graceful and polished; and this volume of poems should have as many admirers as there are persons of culture. Some of his renderings from the French are very- happy." — Vanity Fair. "The Baron liketh much the latest contribution to the Rosslyn Series." — Punch. " His utterances are musical, pleasing, and alive with dainty- touches of fancy." — The Scottish Leader. " This volume contains many graceful things, both original pieces in English and French, and translations from the most popular of all poets across the channel.'' — The Observer. " Lightness of touch and grace cf movement are the chief characteristics of ' Old and New.'" — The Glasgow Herald. " Mr. Pollock's verse is admirable in point of ease and grace; he succeeds perfectly in doing all that he attempts." — The Literary World. " We close Mr. Pollock's little volume with genuine regret that there is not more of it, and that the brief half-hour spent among his graceful verses is not a much longer period of oblivion from the grey realities of a prosaic world." — The St. James's Gazette. Eden, Remington & Co., 15, King Street, Covent Garden, W.C- UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY Los Angeles This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. Form L9-32m-8,'57(.C8680s4)444 . pp Munby - UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY 5101 Vestigia M 3 3/ , v retrorsum AA 000 381 162 7 PR 5101 M384V