LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA. 
 
 Class 
 
 3 "73 
 
POEMS, NEW AND OLD 
 
 BY 
 
 WILLIAM ROSCOE THAYER 
 
 BOSTON AND NEW YORK 
 HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY 
 
 $, Tambrib0e 
 
 1894 
 
Copyright, 1894, 
 BY WILLIAM ROSCOE THAYER. 
 
 All rights reserved. 
 
 The Riverside Press, Cambridge, Mass., U. S. A. 
 Electrotyped and Printed by H. O. Houghton and Company. 
 
TO ELIZABETH. 
 
 Set her among the angels ! let her shine a star ! 
 
 Nay, call her woman, never more divine 
 Than when she walks the levels where our human long 
 ings are, 
 
 And lightens up the prison where we pine. 
 
 Be angel to my worship ! be star my steps to lead 
 From Earth s deep gloom to thy radiance above ! 
 
 The daily inspiration of thine influence I need, 
 But oh I be simply woman to my love. 
 
 22664 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 DEDICATION iii 
 
 HALID 1 
 
 INVOCATION 27 
 
 THE MODERN ODYSSEY 28 
 
 LOVE S DREAD . . . . . . .34 
 
 THE LAST HUNT 34 
 
 MAN IN NATURE 37 
 
 ECHOES FROM THE GARDEN : .... 38 
 
 1. PRELUDE 38 
 
 2. LOVE, THE BUILDER .... 40 
 
 3. THE CONSTANT LOVER . . . .41 
 
 4. POSTPONE NOT PLEASURE ... 41 
 
 5. THE INVITATION 41 
 
 6. THE APOLOGY OF HAFIZ ... 43 
 
 7. THE POET AND FAME 47 
 
 8. THE SECRET OF HAFIZ .... 48 
 
 DISENCHANTMENT 49 
 
 WAVERLEY REVISITED 56 
 
 THE AMERICAN 68 
 
 CONSTANCE 69 
 
 THE VIOLIN S COMPLAINT 70 
 
 THE POLITICIAN . . . . . . . 70 
 
 THE SECRET OUT 72 
 
 THE GIFTS OF THE FATES 73 
 
VI CONTENTS 
 
 PERFECTIBILITY ....... 76 
 
 DEPARTURE 77 
 
 DESIDERIA 77 
 
 UNWORTHINESS 78 
 
 OVERHEARD IN HADES 78 
 
 PRISONERS 84 
 
 FAME 85 
 
 VASHTI 85 
 
 PREMONITIONS 89 
 
 To TRUTH 90 
 
 MANKIND S HIGHEST 90 
 
 ELEGY 91 
 
 MIDWINTER WISHES 92 
 
 WEST AND EAST 93 
 
 SOLIDARITY 93 
 
 NOCTURNE 94 
 
 To 95 
 
 UNREQUITED PASSION 95 
 
 THE HYMN OF FORCE 96 
 
 BEREFT 98 
 
 THE CHASE AND NOT THE QUARRY CHARMS . 98 
 
 IREM 100 
 
 REVERIE 101 
 
 THE REFORMER 103 
 
 ENVOI . . . .104 
 
POEMS. 
 
 HALID. 
 
 A TALE TOLD BY A STRANGE MAN AT THE TOMBS OF 
 THE KHAL$FS, NEAR CAIRO, JANUARY 23, 1887. 
 
 " I AM Halid of Mosul, the man unpermitted 
 
 to die. 
 Do you start ? would you laugh ? do you peer for 
 
 the madman s flash in my eye ? 
 Nay that is pity, not fear nor contempt that 
 
 has soften d your cheek ; 
 I am dumb to the heartless who mock, to the ears 
 
 of compassion I speak. 
 I was born in the valley the Tigris loves, in the 
 
 reign of Harun, 
 When the land was fragrant with poets breath, 
 
 and the crescent moon 
 Rose out of Indus and sank in the waves of the 
 
 Western Sea, 
 And never a man that it blanch d but bow d unto 
 
 Allah the knee. 
 In the smile of the gracious Khalif we throve ; 
 
 our zenith was then 
 
2 HAL ID. 
 
 When the brave with the scimitar wrought for 
 fame, and the wise with the pen ! 
 
 I was young, I was proud, and I lov d ah, 
 better for me had I died ! 
 
 Have you felt the first soft dovelike kiss from 
 the lips of a bride ? 
 
 Have you seen the roses of Shiraz ablush at the 
 wooing of spring ? 
 
 In the almond-groves of Bushire have you heard 
 the bulbul sing ? 
 
 Have you tasted the honey of Ramleh s bees ? 
 But you never can know 
 
 The beauty of Leila, my bride who vanish d 
 long ages ago ! 
 
 Lilies are fair and white, and fragrant is spike 
 nard prest, 
 
 But oh ! the lilies, and oh ! the spice in that gar 
 den, her breast ! 
 
 " One morn I arose and went to the mosque 
 
 my devotions to pay 
 Had not Allah been kind beyond thanking, to 
 
 me ? I met on the way 
 Hassan, the friend of my youth, my brother, my 
 
 comrade in joy, 
 With the strength of a man, arid a seraph s face, 
 
 and the mirth of a boy ; 
 He, too, newly-wedded, still glow d at the thought 
 
 of his Fatima s kiss, 
 And we talk d as we went, as lovers will talk, of 
 
 our brides and our bliss. 
 
HAL ID. 3 
 
 But just at the door of the mosque, the words on 
 
 his lips half-said, 
 Without warning or sigh on the cruel step my 
 
 Hassan fell dead. 
 A sudden snap of the chords of a heart unus d 
 
 to the strain 
 1 Of the music of Love, quoth a leech ; joy kill- 
 
 eth as surely as pain. 
 My Paradise pass d like a mist, I was scorch d 
 
 by the fires of Hell, 
 And they dried the torrent of grief that had 
 
 gush d from my lids when he fell. 
 
 "I had come to the mosque to give thanks,. 
 
 from its threshold I turn d me in wrath 
 And wander d, it reck d me not whither, for 
 
 demons beleaguer d my path. 
 First, Love bewilder d would cry for his friend, 
 
 then Anger would smite, 
 And I long d to avenge on the Angel of Death 
 
 his coward despite ; 
 Then I mus d, What a pitiful world is this ! 
 
 what profits our life, 
 When neither our Joy nor our Love is shielded 
 
 from Azrael s knife ? 
 To Allah we pray as our God, almighty we call 
 
 Him, and just, 
 Was it righteous to stifle the lips of my friend 
 
 with a handful of dust ? 
 If Joy be the heavenly guerdon that God on the 
 
 faithful bestows 
 
4 HALID. 
 
 i Why smites He the happy on earth ? If His 
 
 power no obstacle knows 
 Why leaves He the youthful and good to be 
 
 slain, and the wicked to flee ? 
 
 * Why spares He the old over-ripe ? Is Death 
 
 more mighty than He ? 
 
 Then Death will I worship, not impotent Allah, 
 and him will implore 
 
 * To forget for awhile that I live, and to pass un- 
 
 enter d my door. 
 
 "Thus darkling I sought my abode, and Leila 
 
 I drew to my breast ; 
 My fingers tenderly stray d in her hair, and her 
 
 cheeks I caress d, 
 But joy did not wake at the touch, there was gall 
 
 in her kisses sweet, 
 For I heard a voice in my heart, Her bosom 
 
 may cease to beat 
 
 * The bride you enfold in your arms, at a twink 
 
 ling may turn to clay 
 
 * Ere you smooth her tresses again, yourself may 
 
 be summon d away ! 
 4 Fool ! life and delight are not yours, but the 
 
 plaything of whimsical Death ; 
 The Palace of Love where you dwell is a bubble 
 
 to burst at a breath ! 
 So I liv d as a stranger to joy, tho the trappings 
 
 of joy were mine : 
 When wormwood embitters the tongue, what 
 
 savor hath honey, or wine ? 
 
HAL ID. 5 
 
 And over the world there lower d a pall, as at an 
 
 eclipse, 
 And I heard only dirges in song, and wails upon 
 
 laughing lips. 
 Wherever I walk d there lengthen d before me 
 
 the shadow black 
 Of the wings of the Angel of Death, and I 
 
 fear d to turn and look back, 
 Out of dread for his terrible face, and his arm 
 
 uplifted to slay : 
 Then I cried for the day by night, and I long d 
 
 for the night by day. 
 If I gaz d at the herons in flight, or paus d by 
 
 the Tigris side, 
 The thought burnt into my soul, i While you 
 
 watch, an hour has died ; 
 And it seem d that Canopus had wings, and the 
 
 fickle moon and the sun 
 Were eager to hasten the time when my wretched 
 
 race should be run. 
 
 " So I hated my life, yet I shrank from Death, 
 
 till at last in despair, 
 I humbled my brow in the dust, and pray d unto 
 
 Allah this prayer : 
 O God, if it be that Thou deignest to harken 
 
 when mortals beseech 
 * If the Earth be Thine, and the souls therein 
 
 if Thy power can reach 
 To the depth of our need if pity be Thine 
 
 I entreat Thee to hear ! 
 
6 HALID. 
 
 1 The world was bright, and my bride I lov d, 
 and my friend was dear 
 
 * Was it wrong to delight in Thy gifts ? Dost 
 
 Thou bid us Thy bounty despise ? 
 If Beauty is not to be seen, O Lord, why give 
 
 us these eyes ? 
 But when Death holds the goblet of life to our 
 
 lips the vintage is sour ; 
 Beauty and pleasure, and love itself cannot 
 
 charm us an hour 
 If we fear they will fade like mirage that a 
 
 breath may destroy ; 
 
 * On the eddies of Change and the sands of 
 
 Doubt we can build not our joy. 
 
 * Daily I offer d Thee fivefold thanks, believing 
 
 Thee just, 
 Till the hand of my friend was frozen in mine : 
 
 then my hope and my trust 
 Were undone, and I said in my impious wrath 
 
 that Allah allows 
 Eblis and Death to wanton at will in His earthly 
 
 house, 
 While He in Paradise dwelleth apart, contented 
 
 to hear 
 The praise which the angels who fell not in sin 
 
 attune to His ear. 
 
 * But Lord, if Thou lovest a human soul, and 
 
 wouldst silence the shout 
 
 ; Of Thine arrogant foes, I implore Thou wilt 
 deign to cleanse me from doubt. 
 
EALID. 7 
 
 What wonder, what wonder Thy Prophets of 
 
 old to worship were stirr d, 
 1 Since Thy face uncurtain d they saw, and Thy 
 
 voice unmuffled they heard ? 
 
 * Can we know that their faith had prevail d were 
 
 it not for Thy miracles aid ? 
 
 * O now is the time, and I am the man for a sign 
 
 to persuade ! 
 If Thy strength, as our fathers declar d, be 
 
 supreme, oh show me a sign, 
 Shed but a drop of Thy mercy on me, and my 
 
 zeal shall be Thine ; 
 Thee as my God I will own, as the Lord of the 
 
 earth and the sky, 
 If Thou answer the pray r I now offer oh 
 
 grant that I never may die ! 
 
 " So I pray d like to one full of doubts if there 
 
 be any virtue in pray r, 
 And would fledge with the feathers of scorn the 
 
 appeal he shoots in despair. 
 But sleep made a truce with my grief, and down 
 
 to my bedside came 
 The Angel of Revelation, with scrolls and a 
 
 sword of flame : 
 And he opened the scrolls, and spake, Behold 
 
 the book of thy fate, 
 Where thy deeds were written before thy birth ; 
 
 behold the date 
 Appointed for thee to depart after three-score 
 
 years and one ; 
 
8 HAL ID. 
 
 On the eve of the fast of Ramadan thy records 
 
 are done. 
 Then I fain had seen whether further bliss to 
 
 my life was decreed, 
 But the book was written in heavenly script, which 
 
 no mortal may read. 
 And the Angel said, Thy doom was this till 
 
 thou madest a cry, 
 For a sign that Allah is Lord ; He grants that 
 
 thou shalt not die. 
 Thus speaking he burnt the scroll of my fate, 
 
 and I strove to embrace 
 His knees, for none might bear to look on his 
 
 radiant face ; 
 
 But he vanish d like music still d. In the morn 
 ing when I awoke 
 The stone had roll d from my heart, and my neck 
 
 had slipp d its yoke. 
 
 " As when a traveler bound for Fez from his 
 
 route doth stray, 
 Where the hot Harmattan blows, and feverish 
 
 calentures play 
 In his dizzy brain, and losing hope he wishes to 
 
 die, 
 Until from the crest of a billow of sand he can 
 
 feebly descry 
 In the hollow beneath a cluster of trees and his 
 
 caravan, 
 And he shouts to his friends, and is sav d ; so the 
 
 rapture of living ran 
 
HALID. 9 
 
 Again thro my soul when I woke that morn 
 
 and saw by my side 
 My Lily of Shiraz asleep, Leila, my beautiful 
 
 bride ! 
 And I kiss d her lids, and whisper d, Awake, 
 
 the demon has fled ! 
 4 And Love is the Sultan again ! Oh the tears 
 
 of joy she shed ! 
 
 "Exulting I greeted the sun, and I felt no 
 longer the curse 
 
 Of being a bubble of Time in a timeless uni 
 verse. 
 
 Unsadden d, T watch d the Tigris flow and the 
 Galaxy shine 
 
 Let them rush on their race forever, the length 
 of their race was mine ! 
 
 Beauty could never outlive me, and joy could 
 never exceed 
 
 The scope of my life ; I could look without 
 shame on a moth or a weed. 
 
 So the years flew by, but I reck d not ; my life 
 had the amplitude 
 
 Of the ocean which waits for its streams. Men 
 weep over bygone good : 
 
 The pleasures that hover d but once within grasp, 
 and unseiz d flew away, 
 
 Had the loveliest plumage ; how dull and com 
 mon the pleasures that stay ! 
 
 But I was absolv d from the demon Regret, 
 which soundeth a knell 
 
10 HAL ID. 
 
 When the goblets clink at the feast of delight, 
 
 and whispers farewell ; 
 That presage of parting that darkens the spirits 
 
 of friends who meet 
 Cast not its shadow on me my sweet was a 
 
 permanent sweet. 
 I leisurely grew to the stature and strength of a 
 
 dignified man, 
 Who summons not Haste to complete the building 
 
 which Wisdom began, 
 But layeth his courses with care, and leaveth no 
 
 crevice for Time ; 
 And before I would venture to fly, I patiently 
 
 taught me to climb. 
 I had wealth enough in my purse, and children 
 
 play d in my house, 
 And Suhreh s face had delighted me less than 
 
 the face of my spouse. 
 I drank of the poet s wine, I tasted the bread of 
 
 the sage ; 
 I fear d no more lest a hand unseen, ere I fin- 
 
 ish d the page, 
 Should close the book ; and I smil d, when my 
 
 neighbors with trembling breath 
 Lamented that life is brief, and utter d their hor 
 ror of death. 
 The rose-trees bloom d in my garden, my branches 
 
 hung low with fruit ; 
 I serv d the Khalif as vizier, and mighty was my 
 
 repute. 
 
HALID. 11 
 
 My vow unto Allah I kept not a monk of the 
 
 sky-blue frock 
 More zealously wafted his incense of praise, but 
 
 I seal d with the lock 
 Of silence my lips concerning the Angel s visit 
 
 to me 
 And I dar d not to whisper to Leila herself of 
 
 that solemn decree. 
 
 " So the current of life ran eagerly down from 
 
 the mountainous steep 
 Which sends youth forth at a passionate speed, 
 
 till, placid and deep, 
 It flows with the gait of a King tliro the plain 
 
 of our middle years, 
 And seemeth almost to pause at times, as the 
 
 ocean it nears. 
 Like a banyan my roots struck far in the earth, 
 
 and my branches wide 
 Renew d their strength in the earth again, and 
 
 on every side 
 Put forth new shoots from a single seed an 
 
 acre of shade ! 
 And round the knees of the parent my children s 
 
 children play d. 
 Then the time approach d when the Angel an- 
 
 nounc d I was fated to die ; 
 Before that doom had been cancel d. My terror 
 
 return d, and I 
 Fell to doubting again whether Allah would hold 
 
 to his pledge or relent. 
 
12 ffALID. 
 
 On the evening which usher d the Ramadan fast, 
 
 to the housetop I went 
 And trembling I saw the infant moon sink into 
 
 her cradle of flowers, 
 And the stars grow bright, and the city asleep. 
 
 Alone, I counted the hours 
 Whose march was slow as the step of those who 
 
 follow a bier ; 
 Thus I sat and watch d in the tomb of Night, 
 
 with my comrade, Fear. 
 What if Time should halt ? But no ! for I saw 
 
 on a minaret s tip 
 
 Ald^baran like a ruby aflame, then leisurely slip 
 Into the black horizon s bowl, and slowly the 
 
 Pleiades 
 
 Dropt like dew from bough to bough of the cin 
 namon-trees. 
 Then I fix d my eyes on the East, where the 
 
 beacon of succor should burn : 
 Still dark ! Not a glimmer of gray ! Not a pe 
 tal of rose to discern ! 
 I strove to sort the crow-black thread from the 
 
 thread that was white 
 In vain, for they both were black. Then, sudden, 
 
 a dapple of light, 
 Faint as the pallor a young swan casts at dusk 
 
 on a stream, 
 Crept into the sky and a little bedimm d the 
 
 stars ; then a gleam, 
 And the rim of the earth was distinct from the 
 
 sky ; the cheeks of the mist 
 
HAL ID. 13 
 
 Flutter d a delicate pink, as a damsel blushes 
 when kiss d ; 
 
 Then diaphanous sapphire tinted the East, and 
 over the crest 
 
 Of the loftiest peak spread the tender hues of 
 pearl in the West ! 
 
 I could count the veins on my hand ; the horizon s 
 raven shrouds 
 
 Were dyed with purple and hemm d with gold, 
 and anon the clouds 
 
 Were changed to a garden of flowers, more gor 
 geous than Shiraz knows 
 
 Tulips of wonderful hues, and heavenly bowers 
 of rose ! 
 
 And now like the gilded dome of a mosque was 
 the glow in the East, 
 
 And into the Temple of Day ascended the Great 
 High Priest, 
 
 While the breeze shook incense out, and the song 
 sters jubilee made : 
 
 Allah had granted my prayer I liv d, and was 
 not afraid ! 
 
 " For a season or more, like a thirsty man, my 
 pleasures I quaff d. 
 
 Time overlooks the Vizier, the Khalif remark d, 
 and I laugh d ; 
 
 Nay, Sire, a tortoise is Time, and we are the 
 hares, I replied ; 
 
 4 Tho he seem to delay, ere the goal he will con 
 quer our fleetfoot pride. 
 
14 HAL ID. 
 
 Those were the words on my tongue, but the 
 
 thoughts I kept in my heart 
 Had an arrogant ring : * Halid shall stay, but 
 
 thou shalt depart, 
 4 In spite of thy power, King ; the servant 
 
 shall bury his lord. 
 
 O man, never dare to exult, for the swift, invis 
 ible sword 
 Spareth the brow in the dust, but smiteth the 
 
 insolent head ! 
 Leila, the life of my life, fell sick ere a month 
 
 she was dead. 
 At her grave with ashes I crown d me, and wept ; 
 
 then, awful there burst 
 On my soul a storm of despair which thunder d, 
 
 Thou, wretch, art accurs d ! 
 Unrighteous the boon I had ask d, and Allah had 
 
 granted me life 
 But Love, the enricher of all, lay dead in the 
 
 grave of my wife. 
 Had I pray d that she might be deathless with 
 
 me, would Allah have heard ? 
 Too late, she was gone, and forever ! forever 
 
 the terrible word, 
 The whisper sent back from the Past, the echo 
 
 of Fate and Regret, 
 The warning that unto the strut of our Pride, a 
 
 limit is set ! 
 Not at once could I master its meaning my 
 
 grief was too stormy for that ! 
 
HALID. 15 
 
 But slowly, as day after day the Sun in his pal 
 ace sat, 
 
 Yet shone not upon her return ; and as in the 
 usual hum 
 
 Of familiar household voices, her voice, the sweet 
 est, was dumb ; 
 
 And as I listen d at Night for the sound of her 
 step in my room, 
 
 Yet the pitiless silence was never disturb d 
 then I measured my doom ! 
 
 Think you the world has compassion ? It hur 
 ried on just as before : 
 
 Men went to their toil or their revel, and children 
 play d at my door ; 
 
 The nightingales sang just as sweetly, the rose- 
 trees blossom d as red, 
 
 As if unaware that my joy had set, that my dar 
 ling was dead ! 
 
 And the months on her grave the cyclamen 
 strew d and anemones bright 
 
 As if t were a spot where lovers might come to 
 take their delight. 
 
 " My kindred entreated me kindly at first, and 
 
 strove to console, 
 And the good Khalif us d to mingle his words of 
 
 cheer with my dole. 
 1 Be not dejected, Halid : thou art wise, and the 
 
 Sages have taught 
 * That the sorrows and fears which beset us on 
 
 earth shall vanish that naught 
 
16 HALID. 
 
 Which we suffer below shall endure that even 
 
 our grief has an end, 
 If we hark for the rustle of Azrael s wings, for 
 
 he is our friend, 
 And hastens to rescue. Like pilgrims, thro life 
 
 we wander a while, 
 And are lur d from our path hy its beauty ; its 
 
 pleasures beguile, 
 4 We will travel no farther ; our heaven is here, 
 
 and here we will stop : 
 So we tent by the pool of delight, but our thirst 
 
 is unslak d ; and then drop 
 The illusions ! The world thro our fingers 
 
 glides, like rain thro a sieve, 
 And nothing abides all is dream! here no 
 
 absolute pleasure can live ! 
 So we learn from the eddies and toss of this 
 
 vehement earthly tide 
 To hope for a heavenly shore where we shall 
 
 forever abide. 
 And we who have journey d the farthest in life 
 
 stand nearest the gate 
 Where infinite joy, and the loves we have lost, 
 
 our coming await. 
 
 " I groan d at the stab of his comforting words, 
 
 yet I dar d not reveal 
 My hideous secret ; no balsam of hope my spirit 
 
 could heal. 
 But as when a rower refrains from his oars the 
 
 slender caique 
 
HALID. 17 
 
 Still glideth ahead, but with lessening speed, so a 
 
 man, when weak 
 From affliction, by habit performs what erst he 
 
 did by his will ; 
 Joyless I wrought as before, impell d by life s 
 
 impetus still. 
 Then the good King died and my friends were 
 
 muffled up one by one, 
 Like the moon and the stars when over the sky 
 
 a tempest is blown, 
 And I remain d in the dark. Woe, woe to the 
 
 desolate sire, 
 
 Who lags too long in the seat to which his chil 
 dren aspire ! 
 Their wish they dissembled at first, but I knew 
 
 from their loveless eye 
 That they chaf d at my weary delay, and secretly 
 
 hop d I would die. 
 
 Not love, but an irksome duty, directed their con 
 duct to me ; 
 Not a single caress was unreckon d, no word, no 
 
 courtesy free. 
 When I spoke they restlessly listen d, and said 
 
 in contempt, What you say 
 * May once have been wise, but Wisdom has al- 
 
 ter d its fashion to-day ; 
 The world is the prize of the young, whose 
 
 motives you cannot know ; 
 Sit you by the hearth; let us act; we tire of 
 
 your long-ago. 
 
18 HALID. 
 
 And sometimes I heard them disputing what age 
 a man may attain : 
 
 One cited that Noah was the oldest ; f But, an- 
 swer d another, t is plain 
 
 The measure we use for the Prophets cannot be 
 us d for us all ; 
 
 In the youth of the world there were giants, but 
 men are now puny and small. 
 
 Already Halid has exceeded the mean ; me- 
 thinks it is strange, 
 
 That in spite of his burden of years, his coun 
 tenance showeth no change. 
 
 " Ah, ready are we to evade the duty we ought 
 to endure ! 
 
 At morn we surmise, and at noon we suspect, and 
 by night we are sure ! 
 
 A hint shall attaint the unspotted when jealousy 
 holds the assise, 
 
 And evil desire soon finds an excuse that tes 
 tifies. 
 
 My kinsfolk threw over deceit ere long. ( We bid 
 thee reveal, 
 
 Quoth one, and his features were ice, how it 
 happens that Time cannot steal 
 
 A jot from the speed of thy life. Then an 
 other, with voice more stern, 
 
 Grievous indeed, at the best, is an old man s 
 fretful sojourn : 
 
 But Nature has ruth for his heirs and for him, 
 and calls him away. 
 
HALID. 19 
 
 * What truce hast thou bargain d with her that 
 
 she grants this weary delay ? 
 I was mute, but no doubt had I spoken their an 
 ger had found in my speech, 
 As it found in my silence, a ready offense to 
 
 blame and impeach. 
 Now mark ye, t is as I suspected, said one, he 
 
 dares not deny 
 1 That a devil possesses his soul that he has a 
 
 djin for ally ! 
 Yea, and yet blacker than that ! cried another, 
 
 the Prophet declares 
 ( That when Eblis strides forth to his harvest, the 
 
 shape of a mortal he wears ; 
 Our sire Halid went to Heaven long since ; this 
 
 creature we see, 
 Disguis d in his form, is the Devil. l Or else, 
 
 quoth a third, it may be 
 That the soul of Halid is ensnarl d in a secret 
 
 and pardonless crime, 
 
 And Allah ordains for his sin that he be not de 
 liver^ by Time. 
 So near struck the guess to the mark that I shud- 
 
 der d, but still I was mute. 
 4 With merely a word or a look, the innocent 
 
 quickly refute 
 The charges that rest not on truth, the eldest 
 
 then taunted, but thou 
 
 * Art asham d to confide in thy sons ; thy guilti 
 
 ness lowers thy brow. 
 
20 HAL ID. 
 
 1 Be lie wicked or wizard, my brothers, t is surely 
 unlawful to give 
 
 Our shelter to him any longer ! The good with 
 the bad should not live, 
 
 For sinful example will subtly envenom the vir 
 tuous heart. 
 
 Our souls we must guard from contagion : to-day 
 this man must depart. 
 
 Ah, never is wanting the plea of religion to jus 
 tify wrong ! 
 
 In vain shall the righteous appeal when a text 
 emboldens the strong ! 
 
 We do but the will of the Prophet ! my chil 
 dren exclaim d ; Away ! 
 
 * Ye follow your wicked desires I go but 
 the Lord will repay 
 
 Flash d my tongue ere I sheath d it in silence 
 again. Then my feet 
 
 Pass d over the pitiless threshold ; alone I grop d 
 in the street. 
 
 " The Earth lay open before me, but nowhere 
 in it a home 
 
 No Mecca, no grave, at the end of my journey ! 
 Forever to roam, 
 
 That was my fate. Much I pass, too long were 
 the anguish to tell ; 
 
 To speak of hell s agonies calmly, we first must 
 have risen from hell. 
 
 Not a road in the East or the West but my san 
 dals have startled its dust : 
 
HAL ID. 21 
 
 Not a land but has taught me how bitter and 
 
 hard is an alien s crust, 
 And how cruel are men to their fellows ; the 
 
 weak and poor are the grain 
 Which the millstones Power and Riches grind, 
 
 unheeding their pain. 
 If I settled perchance in a village, and sought 
 
 but to follow a trade, 
 The townsmen would whisper and doubt, and 
 
 then they would harshly upbraid, 
 And call me a creature unholy, and oust me with 
 
 insults and blows : 
 For those who are not like the many, the many 
 
 regard as their foes. 
 I counted no longer the days Time was nothing 
 
 to me who had all ; 
 They only a calendar need whose pittance of 
 
 seasons is small, 
 For which a scant measure of glory, or learning, 
 
 or love, may be bought ; 
 But I, with the hoard of the ages to spend, could 
 
 purchase me nought : 
 A beggar mid riches, like him who starves in a 
 
 mine of gold. 
 
 Wearily, wearily over my head the indolent cen 
 turies roll d, 
 Ever the brazen sun by day, and by night the 
 
 languid moon ; 
 
 Nature a dullard that mumbles by rote her mo 
 notonous tune, 
 
22 HALID. 
 
 And waywardly fondles her playthings, then 
 tosses them by, disdain d ; 
 
 Each Spring dismantled by Autumn, no perma 
 nent victory gain d ; 
 
 A circuit of vain preparations ! Motionless, 
 wearily I 
 
 Like the spike of a dial was fix d, and saw them 
 wheel sluggishly by ! 
 
 " Oh God, how I struggled to break from this 
 
 hideous prison of life ! 
 How my heart leapt up when I heard of a town 
 
 where the plague was rife : 
 Thither I hurried and tended the sick, but the 
 
 pestilent air 
 Was as Spring-time balm to my nostrils ; I flour- 
 
 ish d and Death flourish d there ! 
 If I plung d into battle an unseen hand turn d 
 
 the arrows aside ; 
 And the deadliest poison refresh d me like wine. 
 
 Thereafter I tried 
 The arts forbidden and black of the Magian 
 
 tribe who explore 
 The innermost bowels of life ; I studied the 
 
 alchemist s lore ; 
 I grop d in the sorcerers caves, in vain ! They 
 
 are cheats who pretend 
 To discover the process by which the dust and 
 
 the spirit blend ! 
 We are, but wherefore, or how, that only Allah 
 
 can show : 
 
HAL ID. 23 
 
 Think you a wizard His equal, and what He 
 hideth can know ? 
 
 What Allah refuses to Faith we cannot unravel 
 by Wit : 
 
 So I dropt the impossible quest, and learn d per 
 force to submit. 
 
 " I watch d like Simurga the ebb and flow of 
 
 the Fate of Man 
 Wearisome currents, profitless tides, who know- 
 
 eth your plan ? 
 Nations burst into blossom and fill d the world 
 
 with their scent 
 Then a sudden frost or a wind, and they shriv- 
 
 ell d and perish d forespent. 
 I knew when I quitted a proud-built town that 
 
 when I came back 
 I should find a forest above it, or sand and the 
 
 lizards track. 
 In the palace of Jamshyd the Great, I have 
 
 heard the jackals howl ; 
 The bats have made them a perch in his mosque : 
 
 the hyaenas prowl 
 Thro the courts of mighty Karun ; Palmyra s a 
 
 desert again : 
 
 Men build, but the spiders which build not, in 
 herit the glory of men. 
 The creeds are but as simoons, which blow from 
 
 the East or the West, 
 And the nations are rushes which bend, but their 
 
 roots unshaken rest : 
 
24 HAL ID. 
 
 The wind from Medina has veer d, and freshens 
 
 from Galilee ; 
 The blood of the Saracen weakens, the Giaour 
 
 is stronger than he 
 But the Frank shall not lord it forever, another 
 
 victor shall rise 
 To call him ancient, and spurn his faith and his 
 
 wisdom as lies. 
 For only ALLAH abides ! Mohammed, and 
 
 Jesus, and Budh, 
 Are the names men use to draw near to the 
 
 nameless Infinitude, 
 And be not destroy d ; of these they can reason, 
 
 to these they can pray, 
 But others diviner shall come, and the worship of 
 
 these shall decay, 
 Till the Vision approach to the Truth, but That 
 
 men never shall see : 
 If a man be mistaken for God, ah, what must 
 
 God s majesty be ! 
 I think of the time when Allah shall tire of our 
 
 mortal show, 
 And winnow the race from the Earth, but leave 
 
 me still here below, 
 Alone on the whirling ball, unpitied, and 
 
 doom d unforgiven 
 To drop forever aghast thro the wildernesses of 
 
 heaven ! 
 
 " you who live with Death at your beck may 
 cherish your life ! 
 
HALID. 25 
 
 There is balm, there is balm for your pain, and 
 
 peace at last for your strife ! 
 Despair should not master the heart of a mortal 
 
 permitted to die 
 His grief hath a bourne, he may laugh at the 
 
 threats of disaster, but I 
 And my pangs are eternal. Behold, the very 
 
 Pyramids there 
 Have crumbled an inch since I saw them last, 
 
 and the ages shall wear 
 Their pride to the floor of the desert, to drift 
 
 about in the wind ; 
 And men shall come to behold them, and never a 
 
 vestige find, 
 And scholars shall doubt their existence, and 
 
 some shall boldly maintain, 
 * T is only an ancient story, to dazzle posterity s 
 
 brain ! 
 Yet then when the stones have wasted, my 
 
 life as to-day will be, 
 For my agony always begins, and there is no 
 
 Past for me. 
 Look at that beetle which crawls at our feet 
 
 ah, he shall have Death 
 While I though a man can never escape 
 
 from the burden of breath ! 
 The curtain which hangs like a pall in front of 
 
 my hopeless eyes 
 Shall be lifted for all save me they shall pass 
 
 into Paradise, 
 
26 HAL ID. 
 
 Where the odors of blooming tuba-trees thro the 
 
 gardens steal: 
 Hassan and Leila are there, and they drink of 
 
 the Selsebil : 
 
 And no recollection of me perturbs their heav 
 enly mirth, 
 For Heaven would less be Heaven, if the thought 
 
 of friends on Earth, 
 Who suffer still in the flesh, the blissful air could 
 
 chill : 
 So they drink of the fount of Delight, and are 
 
 bless d with the Angel s will. 
 But I, forgotten of all save Woe, can never 
 
 forget ; 
 When I look behind, t is Remorse when I look 
 
 before t is Regret. 
 The rivets of destiny bind my life to this cliff 
 
 forlorn 
 I shall never see Leila again ! Oh would I had 
 
 never been born ! 
 You have heard my terrible fate : when you pray 
 
 unto God beware 
 Lest you ask an unhallowed boon, and He punish 
 
 by granting your prayer ! " 
 
 As he ceas d, there pass d us some boisterous 
 
 men, and seeing Halid, 
 They tapp d their foreheads, and laugh d, and 
 
 shouted to me, t Would you heed 
 4 The tale of a crazy beggar ? He heard, and 
 
 unspeakable woe 
 
INVOCATION. 27 
 
 Struggled with wrath on his haggard face : then 
 
 he turn d him to go ; 
 And ere I could summon him hack, or rehuke 
 
 those insolent men, 
 The tombs had shut him from sight, and I saw 
 
 him never again. 
 
 INVOCATION. 
 
 YE solemn Prophets, who on Sinai s height 
 Hear God s command the thunder-volley drown, 
 Who on imperishable tablets write 
 The precedents of conscience, and bring down 
 The heavenly code, which levels king and clown : 
 
 Dear Poets, who e er keep the eyes of youth, 
 Whose souls are as a perfect violin 
 Melodious, when Beauty plays, or Truth, 
 Whose genial hearts are hostelries wherein 
 Courtesy greets all travelers, save Sin ; 
 
 Redeemers of humanity, who feel 
 Vicarious passion, hallowing the scope 
 Of homely duties ; wizards who reveal 
 The preciousness of common things, and ope 
 With wand benign the hidden gates of hope ; 
 
 Rapt dreamers of the transcendental dreams 
 Which are reality ; foretellers of 
 Perfection which across the future gleams 
 
28 THE MODERN ODYSSEY. 
 
 To dim the present good wherein we move ; 
 Spokesmen of Freedom, oracles of Love : 
 
 Be my companions, ye that are my kin ! 
 Impeach my doubting heart, my sluggish will ! 
 I hear your call above the cheerless din 
 Of court and pulpit, senate-house and mill : 
 O guide my footsteps to your sacred hill ! 
 
 THE MODERN ODYSSEY. 
 
 WILL you follow me thro space ? 
 Mount a star-beam, join the race, 
 Loose the nerve-twin d cord of sense, 
 Drop the carnal wrappage, dense ; 
 Fancy shall our pilot be, 
 Cosmical, surprising, free ! 
 Quibbling Reason, be thou still, 
 Put to us no questions chill ; 
 While thou panting lagg st behind 
 In a logic-net confm d, 
 Frolic Fancy at a bound 
 Truth unperishing hath found ! 
 
 Quick, bestride the lucent steed ! 
 Time we shall no longer need ; 
 Day and darkness one appear 
 When the mighty suns are near. 
 Earthly measures, bounds, forget, 
 Let no finite memory fret ; 
 
THE MODERN ODYSSEY. 29 
 
 Pluck away the dread of death 
 Fancy hangs not on a breath. 
 
 Ready ! Up ! Farewell ! But slow 
 
 At beginning let us go, 
 
 Else the earth would dart from sight 
 
 Like a cinder in the night. 
 
 Watch the plains and mountains shrink : 
 
 Yonder straggling blotch of ink 
 
 Is a city ; millions thrive 
 
 In that brick and granite hive ; 
 
 Dwindled to a speck, a spot, 
 
 Trifle now we see thee not ! 
 
 Higher still ! that tiny cloud 
 
 Veils a nation vast and proud ; 
 
 Each wee mortal creeping there 
 
 Deems his home the nook most fair 
 
 Of the universe nay, more, 
 
 Counts himself the world before ; 
 
 Everything was made for him, 
 
 God exists to please his whim. 
 
 Earth now shrivels to a ball; 
 Shadows o er its surface fall 
 Marking where the moon-drawn sea 
 From the continents is free. 
 Up ! but yet a moment turn 
 Just to note where drifts astern 
 On the ether s billows dull 
 Luna s gibbous, pitted skull. 
 
30 THE MODERN ODYSSEY. 
 
 See where burning fiercely blue 
 Sun uplifts his disk to view ; 
 Mottled like chameleon s back, 
 Now t is bright, and now t is black ; 
 Heat he spurts in flaming plumes, 
 Or in hissing pools consumes, 
 While he greedily devours 
 Pelting meteoric showers. 
 
 As the phosphorescent wake 
 Vessels on the ocean make 
 Spreads, and gleams, and goes astray, 
 So, above, the Milky Way 
 Eddies and meanders far 
 Every glistening drop a star ! 
 We its broadest flood will swim 
 Where from here it looks most slim. 
 
 Mark how, like a sky of flame, 
 Mighty Sirius hurls his frame ! 
 He the nearest hapless orbs, 
 As the sea the rain, absorbs ; 
 Zenith scorches in his flight, 
 Nadir quivers molten white, 
 Whirlwinds shriek behind his path 
 Louder than Hell s fabled wrath. 
 Whither, monster, dost thou wend ? 
 Waits thy course at last an end ? 
 Wherefore thro the black abyss 
 Must thou headlong plunge and hiss ? 
 Do thy wildernesses burn 
 And no compensation earn ? 
 
THE MODERN ODYSSEY. 31 
 
 Guess we cannot, wonder vast ! 
 But should st thou plunge trebly fast, 
 Little man s untrammel d mind 
 Instantly would leave behind 
 Thy huge bulk, or he would stay 
 Thine expanse to mete and weigh. 
 Thou, chief tyrant of the sky, 
 Thou art slave to man s small eye ! 
 
 Here is silence so intense 
 That the softest whisper hence 
 Fluttering down the vast inane 
 Like hay-fragrance after rain 
 Myriad leagues would penetrate 
 And expand in circles great, 
 Till the last vibration tir d 
 And in f ar-off space expir d. 
 
 Force conflicting tugs and rides 
 Every atom on all sides ; 
 Thro each mote, as t were a glass, 
 Rays from stars uncounted pass ; 
 Yet no jar, no clash destroys 
 Every atom s perfect poise. 
 
 If we hurried tow rds the West, 
 Or if Eastward pauseless press d, 
 Never should we meet a sign 
 Of a limit or a line : 
 When we reach d the farthest sun 
 Fancy wots of, but begun 
 
32 THE MODERN ODYSSEY. 
 
 We should find a farther flight 
 With fresh wonders to delight. 
 
 Could we stop that sheaf of rays 
 Hast ning tirelessly thro space, 
 And their message clearly read 
 We should be amaz d indeed ! 
 For those javelins of light 
 From the Earth began their flight 
 When the perfect man, the Christ, 
 On the Cross was sacrific d. 
 
 In mysterious fashion, how 
 
 Is the Past the Present now ! 
 
 How make opposites agree ? 
 
 How adjust disparity ? 
 
 How the thought of finite blend 
 
 With the infinite no-end ? 
 
 How shall Fancy reunite 
 
 Rest and motion, dark and light ? 
 
 Contradictions interwed. 
 
 And impossible, instead, 
 
 Plainly possible appears, 
 
 Tho no wit the problem clears. 
 
 Now our cheeks are softly kiss d 
 By a drench of stellar mist ! 
 Peradventure, ages hence 
 It may live in nerve and sense, 
 When the cosmic wizard, Heat, 
 Shall ensphere, compact, complete. 
 
THE MODERN ODYSSEY. 33 
 
 Will, then, other Hamlets there 
 
 Love, procrastinate, despair ? 
 
 And will women weep to know 
 
 Unrequited passion s woe ? 
 
 Will another man-like race 
 
 Godward, trembling, turn its face, 
 
 Crush d by Circumstance and Time 
 
 Slowly, zig-zag, upward climb, 
 
 Often asking, as on Earth, 
 
 If the prize the pain be worth, 
 
 Often halting to inquire, 
 
 Wherefore sweat to struggle higher ? 
 
 But as ages circle round, 
 
 Still on loftier plane be found ? 
 
 Wherefore now with anxious eye 
 Do you search the star-sown sky ? 
 Homesick for your native hearth, 
 Do you peer so soon for Earth ? 
 Brush the shadow from your mind 
 Little Earth we left behind 
 Uncomputed time ago ; 
 Where she is we cannot know. 
 Let the tiny plaything spin 
 Like a top, her orbit in, 
 Till perhaps some later day 
 She again dance in our way. 
 We still grander worlds to view 
 Bravely will our flight pursue, 
 Certain that, where er we roam, 
 We shall never leave our home. 
 
34 THE LAST HUNT. 
 
 LOVE S DREAD. 
 
 EYES, but for you I had not seen 
 Her motion, grace, and lovely mien ! 
 
 Ears, but for you I had not heard 
 Her voice that spake no loveless word ! 
 
 And Touch, thou mad st me understand 
 Her lips delight, her soothing hand ! 
 
 I thank ye for each message brought, 
 I thank ye for each beauty taught ; 
 
 But oh, for senses trustier 
 
 To give me true reports of her, 
 
 Till I might rise myself above 
 And adequately know my Love ! 
 
 O careless Fate, love s all to trust 
 To these frail gossips of the dust ! 
 
 THE LAST HUNT. 
 
 OH, it s twenty gallant gentlemen 
 Rode out to hunt the deer, 
 
 With mirth upon the silver horn 
 And gleam upon the spear ; 
 
THE LAST HUNT. 35 
 
 They gallop d thro the meadow-grass, 
 
 They sought the forest s gloom, 
 And loudest rang Sir Morven s laugh, 
 And lightest tost his plume. 
 
 There s no delight by day or night 
 
 Like hunting in the morn ; 
 
 So busk ye, gallant gentlemen, 
 
 And sound the silver horn ! 
 
 They rode into the dark greenwood 
 
 By ferny dell and glade, 
 And now and then upon their cloaks 
 
 The yellow sunshine play d ; 
 They heard the timid forest-birds 
 
 Break off amid their glee, 
 They saw the startled leveret, 
 But not a stag did see. 
 
 Wind, wind the horn, on summer morn ! 
 
 Tho ne er a buck appear, 
 There s health for horse and gentleman 
 A-hunting of the deer ! 
 
 They panted up Ben Lomond s side 
 
 Where thick the leafage grew, 
 And when they bent the branches back 
 
 The sunbeams darted through ; 
 Sir Morven in his saddle turn d, 
 
 And to his comrades spake, 
 " Now quiet! we shall find a stag 
 
 Beside the Brownies Lake." 
 
36 THE LAST HUNT. 
 
 Then sound not on the bugle-horn, 
 Bend bush and do not break, 
 
 Lest ye should start the timid hart 
 A-drinking at the lake. 
 
 Now they have reach d the Brownies Lake 
 
 A blue eye in the wood 
 And on its brink a moment s space 
 
 All motionless they stood : 
 When, suddenly, the silence broke 
 
 With fifty bowstrings twang, 
 And hurtling thro the drowsy air 
 Full fifty arrows sang. 
 
 Ah, better for those gentlemen, 
 Than horn and slender spear, 
 Were morion and buckler true, 
 A-hunting of the deer. 
 
 Not one of that brave company 
 
 Shall hunt the deer again ; 
 Some fell beside the Brownies Pool, 
 
 Some dropt in dell or glen ; 
 An arrow pierc d Sir Morven s breast, 
 
 His horse plung d in the lake, 
 And swimming to the farther bank 
 He left a bloody wake. 
 
 Ah, what avails the silver horn, 
 And what the slender spear ? 
 There s other quarry in the wood 
 Beside the fallow deer ! 
 
MAN IN NATURE. 37 
 
 O er ridge and hollow sped the horse 
 
 Besprent with blood and foam, 
 Nor slacken d pace until at eve 
 He brought his master home. 
 How tenderly the Lady Ruth 
 
 The cruel dart withdrew ! 
 " False Tirrell shot the bolt," she said, 
 " That my Sir Morven slew ! " 
 
 Deep in the forest lurks the foe, 
 While gaily shines the morn ; 
 Hang up the broken spear, and blow 
 A dirge upon the horn. 
 
 MAN IN NATURE. 
 
 CLIMBING up the hillside beneath the summer 
 
 stars 
 I listen to the murmur of the drowsy ebbing 
 
 sea; 
 
 The newly-risen moon has loos d her silver zone 
 On the undulating waters where the ships are 
 sailing free. 
 
 moon, and stars, and O drowsy summer sea 
 Drawing thy tide from the city up the bay, 
 
 1 know how you will look and what your bounds 
 
 must be, 
 
 When we and our sons have forever pass d 
 away. 
 
38 ECHOES FROM THE GARDEN. 
 
 You shall not change, but a nobler race of men 
 Shall walk beneath the stars and wander by 
 
 the shore ; 
 I cannot guess their glory, but I think the sky 
 
 and sea 
 
 Will bring to them more gladness than they 
 brought to us of yore. 
 
 ECHOES FROM THE GARDEN. 
 
 1. PRELUDE. 
 
 THE Persian Muses of the glowing heart 
 Dwelt not on Heliconian heights apart, 
 Midway twixt gods and men, but friendly came 
 Down to our Earth, as trustful and as tame 
 As birds that sing and build their nests on boughs 
 Which almost sweep the windows of a house : 
 They, who might wander Heaven with seraphim, 
 Stoop d to the haunts of Man, and walk d with 
 
 him 
 
 Along the footpaths of mortality, nor fear d 
 Lest, better known, they might be less rever d. 
 They trusted, for they lov d : their home they 
 
 chose 
 
 The Garden of Mosella, where the rose 
 Spreads gorgeous branches, and the bulbul sings, 
 And butterflies wear jewels on their wings, 
 And where the cadent drippings of a rill 
 The intervals of silence sweetly fill. 
 
ECHOES FROM THE GARDEN. 39 
 
 There Hafiz sang, and Saadi raoraliz d, 
 While many listen d, spell-bound and surpris d ; 
 For one address d the mind, and one the heart, 
 And both were masters of the poet s art. 
 These and Firdausi are the matchless three 
 To honor whom the Persians all agree : 
 Him of the Kingly Epic they revere, 
 Saadi they trust their lives aright to steer, 
 But, to a heart, they love their Hafiz best, 
 Who liv d when Laura s lover charm d the West. 
 We all have heard Petrarca, and we know 
 His exquisite abandonment to woe, 
 His love, not greater than his verse could bear, 
 His lyric sighs, his rhythmical despair ; 
 But we have not heard Hafiz, who has sung 
 To centuries of lovers. Old and young, 
 Thro days of peace and grim foreboding times 
 Persians have kindled to his magic rhymes, 
 And, oft as Love has fir d a Persian youth, 
 Two hearts have felt that Hafiz spake the truth. 
 
 Joy ! joy ! no past, no clime hath Poesie ! 
 The love she utters dies not, nor can she ! 
 To-day, o er seas and centuries I hear 
 The murmur of a lute, the laughter clear 
 Of revelers unwearied, and there floats 
 The breath of many flowers with the notes, 
 And glasses tinkle when the music ends, 
 T is Hafiz in the Garden, with his friends. 
 
40 ECHOES FROM THE GARDEN. 
 
 2. LOVE, THE BUILDER. 
 
 Strew roses, and jessamines scatter, 
 
 And into our cup pour wine ; 
 The roof of the sky we will shatter, 
 
 And build us a dwelling divine ! 
 
 As high as our hopes we will build it, 
 Desire shall hew us the beams, 
 
 The sun of contentment shall gild it, 
 The walls shall be painted with dreams. 
 
 We 11 make captive the beauty of May-time, 
 Not a leaf of its blossoms shall fade ! 
 
 Our time shall forever be playtime, 
 
 The flight of our youth shall be stay d. 
 
 "We will leave not a corner for sighing, 
 No wish shall be broken in twain, 
 
 We will silence all whispers of dying, 
 There shall never be any more pain. 
 
 We shall always be strangers to sorrow ; 
 
 The flames on our shrine of delight 
 Shall glow at our waking to-morrow 
 
 As they glow at our kisses to-night. 
 
 Then kiss, and our home is completed, 
 Ev ry wish to fulfilment shall haste, 
 
 And the sweetness of pleasures repeated 
 Forever the sweetest shall taste. 
 
ECHOES FROM THE GARDEN. 41 
 
 3. THE CONSTANT LOVER. 
 
 Suleika s were the rosy lips, 
 
 And Zeyneb s were the lustrous eyes, 
 And Fatima more sweetly sang 
 
 Than nightingales in Paradise. 
 Zobayda she was shining tresses, 
 And Leila she was dove-caresses, 
 
 Dove and serpent, love and lies. 
 
 Amima had but I forget 
 
 If she was fair, or simply true ; 
 
 Suleima s kisses were the best 
 Till I Zarifa s kisses knew, 
 
 Zarifa, maid of tears and laughter, 
 
 Swift summer clouds and sunshine after, 
 Tears and kisses sweet as dew. 
 
 O roses, roses of my youth, 
 
 I wonder are ye wither d now ? 
 
 Nay, be not jealous of those buds, 
 Shirin, my soul s sultana thou ! 
 
 For they were but a May-day pleasure, 
 
 While thou art my eternal treasure 
 All my love to thee I vow ! 
 
 4. POSTPONE NOT PLEASURE. 
 
 Prevent me not ! who knows, who knows 
 How soon the petals of the rose 
 Must fade and drop ? 
 
42 ECHOES FROM THE GARDEN. 
 
 Forbid me not the ruby wine, 
 Deny me not the kiss divine, 
 Who knows how soon thy lips, or mine, 
 A little clod of dust will close, 
 And pleasure stop ? 
 
 In Spring, we 11 have the joy of Spring 
 Kisses and wine and caroling 
 
 The blithe are wise. 
 When April comes another year 
 Can st promise he will find me here ? 
 To-day is ours no more is clear ; 
 The joy that has the brightest wing 
 
 The swiftest flies ! 
 
 5. THE INVITATION. 
 
 Be my messenger, wind of the West ! 
 
 Into my Lady s lattice blow, 
 Kiss for me her lips and her breast 
 
 Whose the kisses are, she will know. 
 
 Shed upon her the roses scent 
 Breath of roses asleep at dusk 
 
 Waft the nightingale s love-lament, 
 Carry the odors of lily and musk ! 
 
 Fan the flame of her heart s desire, 
 Bind thy swiftness under her feet ; 
 
 Tell her, I see the glow-worm s fire, 
 Tell her, the night for lovers is fleet. 
 
ECHOES FROM THE GARDEN. 43 
 
 Go, my messenger, out of the West, 
 Her chamber-lattice is open to thee ; 
 
 Kiss, O kiss her lips and her breast, 
 She will arise and hasten to me ! 
 
 6. THE APOLOGY OF HAFIZ. 
 
 Nay, dervish of the hollow cheek, 
 Have charity, and do not scold : 
 
 Tho you be strong, and I be weak, 
 The ways to heaven are manifold. 
 
 The rut your pious feet have worn 
 Upon the flagg d monastic floor, 
 
 The self-inflicted scourges borne, 
 The beads repeated o er and o er, 
 
 The dust you sprinkle on your head, 
 
 The prayers, the fasts all these but show 
 
 T is roundabout the road you tread 
 By which to Paradise to go. 
 
 Let him who would a dervish be 
 His conduct to your care confide, 
 
 But can you steer my ship for me 
 On waters you have never tried ? 
 
 Where roses bloom I say my prayer, 
 
 My monastery is an inn, 
 My brother-monks no sackcloth wear, 
 
 No fasting pales their ruddy skin. 
 
44 ECHOES FROM THE GARDEN. 
 
 A damsel, whose narcissus lips 
 
 E en you would guess were meant to kiss, 
 Smiling across the carpet trips 
 
 And brims our cups with liquid bliss. 
 
 Then stories interspers d with song 
 Than merry song what holier hymn ? 
 
 And laughter runs like rills along, 
 Till twilight makes the tavern dim. 
 
 A parting quaff, a gay goodnight, 
 
 And then each comrade homeward wends, 
 
 Beneath the stars mysterious light, 
 And feels the nobler for his friends. 
 
 " A jovial life s a life of sin," 
 
 I ve heard your precepts all before ; 
 
 " The Devil follows pleasure in, 
 
 Tho but a crack you ope the door." 
 
 You may be right and yet, and yet, 
 Suppose that when we come to die 
 
 Our Lord inquire what joys we met 
 
 In Earth, His Earth, would you reply ? 
 
 " O Lord, who art a jealous God, 
 
 I cannot answer Thy demand ; 
 The straight and narrow road I trod, 
 And never peep d to either hand. 
 
 " My bed a stone, my raiment sack, 
 My dwelling-place a gloomy cell, 
 
ECHOES FROM THE GARDEN. 45 
 
 O let the scars upon my back 
 My tale of self-denial tell ! 
 
 " I shunn d the vulgar, godless crew, 
 
 Lest their contagion harm my soul ; 
 No other wish on Earth I knew 
 
 Than to be freed from Earth s control ; 
 
 " No joy s postponement did I grudge, 
 No pious hardship, night or day ; 
 For well I knew that Thou, O judge, 
 Most bountifully wilt repay. 
 
 " My sins, my many sins, I fought ; 
 
 My ill desires I mortified ; 
 My soul no earthy taint has brought, 
 Unless it be a blur of pride 
 
 " To glory that I am of those, 
 
 The few, who Thy commands enjoy, 
 And never palter d with Thy foes, 
 Whom Thou shalt utterly destroy." 
 
 This, dervish, of your mortal task 
 
 Most truly could you testify ; 
 But if the Lord my deeds should ask, 
 
 I must in honesty reply : 
 
 " Dear God of friendship, love, and grace, 
 
 Ere I had wander d far on Earth, 
 It seem d so lovable a place 
 
 I could but thank thee for my birth. 
 
46 ECHOES FROM THE GARDEN. 
 
 " I soon discern d that good and bad, 
 
 Delight and grief were intertwin d, 
 But deem d it righteous to be glad, 
 And suffer d not a peevish mind. 
 
 " I could not think that Thou hadst set 
 
 Pure joys our spirits to ensnare ; 
 Thou art no fowler with a net, 
 To take Thy creatures unaware. 
 
 " And so when pleasure beckon d me 
 
 I dreaded no unseen decoy ; 
 I held that they best worship Thee 
 Who drink the deepest of Thy joy. 
 
 " O lovely hast Thou made our world, - 
 
 By day, a garden of surprise, 
 By night, the firmament unfurl d ; 
 I dwelt, methought, in Paradise. 
 
 " And what divine companions there ! 
 
 I saw in every fellow-man 
 Some mark of Thy creative care, 
 Thy pattern round each vessel ran. 
 
 " No fast I kept, my prayers I miss d, 
 
 No weary pilgrimage I took, 
 But oft the rosiest lips I kiss d, 
 And lov d Thy holy, living Book. 
 
 " I did not fret nor speculate 
 
 Concerning dooms of blest or curst, 
 
ECHOES FROM THE GARDEN. 47 
 
 Nor drew me charts of heaven s estate, 
 But wish d to roam the earthly, first. 
 
 " And nothing made my trust so deep 
 
 In the fair issue of thy plan 
 As that Thou deemest Earth too cheap 
 For the eternal home of man. 
 
 " Its love, its splendor, its delight, 
 Its beauty always at the brim, 
 Forever might content his sight 
 
 Hadst Thou not higher bliss for him. 
 
 " I took Thy gifts with thankful heart, 
 
 And if few thoughts of heaven I had, 
 It was because I knew Thou art 
 
 On Earth with us, when we are glad." 
 
 This, dervish, this shall be my plea, 
 Or good or bad, the Judge will show ; 
 
 Your heaven could ne er be heaven to me, 
 My heaven on Earth you will not know. 
 
 7. THE POET AND FAME. 
 
 Sweetheart, you flatter when you say 
 " Immortal Hafiz ! " Tell the truth, 
 
 My beard already turneth grey, 
 Immortals never lose their youth. 
 
 The poet dies, his songs remain 
 An age or two, for men s delight ; 
 
48 ECHOES FROM THE GARDEN. 
 
 When mine they sing, I live again : 
 
 How short the bow how long the flight ! 
 
 8. THE SECRET OF HAFIZ. 
 
 I have heard a fearful secret : 
 To the Shah I will not tell it, 
 I will hide it from my sweetheart, 
 From my merry, dear companions, 
 When they ask. 
 
 This it is : The clod I trample 
 Was the skull of Alexander, 
 And the waters of the ocean 
 In the veins of mighty princes 
 Once ran red. 
 
 And the dust-clouds of the desert 
 Were the lips of lovely women : 
 Where are they, and they who kiss d them ? 
 Power dies, and beauty passes, 
 Nought abides. 
 
 Where is Jamshyd, and his beaker ? 
 Solomon, and where his mirror ? 
 Which of all the wise professors 
 Knows when Kaus and Jamshyd flourish d ? 
 Who can tell ? 
 
 They were mighty, yet they vanish d ; 
 Names are all they left behind them ; 
 
DISENCHANTMENT. 49 
 
 Glory first, and then an echo, 
 Then the very echo hushes, 
 All is still. 
 
 O my Shah, ask not my secret ! 
 Sweetheart, I must hide it from you ! 
 They who hear it are not merry : 
 Power dies, and beauty passes, 
 Nought abides. 
 
 DISENCHANTMENT. 
 
 SOLILOQUY OF VICTOR FAUVEL, NATURALIST. 
 
 So Love s but an April fashion, 
 
 And Hope the caprice of young years ? 
 Then enough of the cheats of passion, 
 
 I am tir d of laughter and tears ; 
 I am tir d of profitless changes, 
 
 Which the callow seek with zest ; 
 The suspicion of fraud estranges 
 
 Delight from the doubting breast. 
 
 Once, Nature was tenderly subtle ; 
 
 Dissembling her soulless plan, 
 She granted each impotent shuttle 
 
 To deem itself free, and a man : 
 He perceiv d not the fingers fatal 
 
 That toss d him along the loom ; 
 She whisper d of lives prenatal 
 
 And of love out-soaring the tomb. 
 
50 DISENCHANTMENT. 
 
 She flatter d, as flatters a woman 
 
 To curtain the waning of love : 
 " I have dower d thee, darling, tho human, 
 
 With gifts of the gods above : 
 When the Earth was at its beginning 
 
 I foresaw thy glory a-wing, 
 And I patiently waited, spinning 
 
 Robes meet for creation s King. 
 
 " I fashion d for thee each wonder, 
 
 I varied the seasons flight, 
 Kept day and darkness asunder, 
 
 Strew d bloom on the paths of blight : 
 The sky and the earth and the ocean 
 
 Are thine, and their broods are thine ; 
 For the world but reveals the devotion 
 
 I feel for thee, Lover divine ! " 
 
 Ah, flattery deftly season d 
 
 Is sweeter than truth to the ear ; 
 Mankind would never have reason d, 
 
 If Nature had been sincere ; 
 We had dream d thro our haughty vision, 
 
 Beguil d to the end of the show, 
 But worse than her wrath or derision 
 
 She dotes, and allows us to know. 
 
 As a child that is sated with playing, 
 When slumber upon him falls, 
 
 Forgets the tale he was saying 
 To his toys, and spurns his dolls, 
 
DISENCHANTMENT. 51 
 
 So Nature grows weary of feigning ; 
 
 What odds if her puppets see 
 They are only puppets ? Complaining 
 
 Cannot render them men, and free. 
 
 Has she wax d, then, suddenly spiteful 
 
 Tow rds the innocents she creates ? 
 Ah no, yet the truth is frightful 
 
 She neither loves us, nor hates : 
 Impassive, she watches each bubble, 
 
 Let it hover, or let it burst ; 
 The corn is to her as the stubble. 
 
 She breedeth the best and the worst. 
 
 We awake from her spell narcotic 
 
 To the knowledge of Earth and Hell ; 
 Ah, why should a Power despotic 
 
 Begrudge us to lengthen the spell ? 
 T were as easy with sensuous fancies 
 
 To soothe us and entertain, 
 As to conjure up devilish dances, 
 
 And to open the sluices of pain. 
 
 Farewell to the rapture of kisses, 
 
 Farewell to the hope in the bud, 
 If we guess that our holiest bliss is 
 
 But a trick of the ripening blood ! 
 That, that is the foulest of treasons, 
 
 To make passion itself a decoy : 
 Ah, night and day and the seasons 
 
 Can never again bring joy ! 
 
52 DISENCHANTMENT. 
 
 We know : and the pangs of perdition 
 
 Begin with our knowledge to ache ; 
 Our Eden is lost thro suspicion, 
 
 As the first thro the wile of the snake ; 
 Fresh lips have a savor of ashes, 
 
 And in young eyes Death peers through, 
 And the voice of the Preacher clashes, 
 
 As we vow our vows most true. 
 
 Spare wrath, t is begotten of folly, 
 
 And barren is windy regret ; 
 There will never grow poppy nor moly 
 
 Whose juices might help us forget ; 
 The sane heads bow in submission, 
 
 While the mad and the bad rebel ; 
 To be wise is to know our condition, 
 
 Unbias d by Heaven or Hell. 
 
 So the wise intelligence deeper 
 
 Sifts the real from the things that seem, 
 And is conscious, as is the sleeper 
 
 Who dreams that he dreams a dream, 
 That he is the deed and the doer, 
 
 The skiff and the mastering tide, 
 Now victim and now pursuer, 
 
 Self-hostile and self-allied. 
 
 Not in arrogance, lacking a title, 
 Do I speak for our cheated race ; 
 
 I have labor d without requital, 
 I have felt despair s embrace, 
 
DISENCHANTMENT. 53 
 
 I have been as a drum for dirges 
 And a pipe for the lips of mirth, 
 
 I have wielded a penitent s scourges, 
 I have hop d in the glory of Earth ! 
 
 I have known young love s caresses, 
 
 And the passion of lip and eye, 
 And the kiss that curses or blesses, 
 
 And a magical earth and sky, 
 When to hint of changes were treason, 
 
 And to utter a doubt were crime, 
 When the body and soul and reason 
 
 Seem d loos d from the tethers of time. 
 
 Last year, what were honors and learning ? 
 
 All pages were lit with one name, 
 One glance set my spirit yearning, 
 
 One whisper was sweeter than fame ! 
 I vow d that our love was eternal, 
 
 My joy was to hear her command, 
 Had she pointed to perils infernal, 
 
 I had willingly f ollow d her hand ! 
 
 Now, her countenance cannot awaken 
 
 One chord in my bosom to play, 
 For the seasons have stealthily taken 
 
 Our mutual passion away : 
 T was no quarrel that clove us asunder, 
 
 No loveless nor petulant word ; 
 We meet without tremor, and wonder 
 
 How either could e er have been stirr d. 
 
54 DISENCHANTMENT. 
 
 As a fisherman listlessly gazes 
 
 In a pool that is clear and profound, 
 And beholds, mongst the nethermost mazes, 
 
 The face of a maiden long drown d, 
 And at sight of her tranquil beneath, he 
 
 Is startled to pity and dread, 
 So thro the dim waters of Lethe 
 
 I look on my love that is dead. 
 
 I have said, when a thrall unto sorrow, 
 
 Love slackens, but grief holds fast ; 
 And behold, as I spoke, ere the morrow, 
 
 I smil d, and my grief was past ; 
 Then I thought, hate cannot be banish d, 
 
 I swore that remorse would remain, 
 Each svvay d me a moment, and vanish d 
 
 Like a gust over standing grain. 
 
 So I noted how Nature impinges 
 
 At all points upon the quick, 
 Making life either tickles or twinges, 
 
 As our tissues are healthy or sick ; 
 We are only the slaves of emotion, 
 
 Tho we brave it in freemen s form ; 
 Fond mariners toss d on the ocean, 
 
 To fancy that we are the storm ! 
 
 Ah, bitter is truth, first tasted, 
 
 And knowledge hath nettles, like sin ! 
 
 I reckon the long years wasted, 
 And I cannot smother chagrin ; 
 
DISENCHANTMENT. 55 
 
 For I too, like the feeble and fickle, 
 
 Have been lur d from my purpose away, 
 
 A worldling for Nature to tickle, 
 A harp for Emotion to play. 
 
 Much passes, much glory and glamor, 
 
 As I penetrate Life s disguise, 
 And, surveying our pitiful drama 
 
 With sober, uncheated eyes, 
 See that Instinct, protean deceiver, 
 
 Under moraller epithets reigns, 
 And that Love s but a vernal fever, 
 
 Much passes, yet something remains. 
 
 Call it fortitude, call it defiance, 
 
 Or scorn for the frauds of the pulse, 
 A fortitude nourished by Science 
 
 That neither desponds nor exults ; 
 But measures its dungeon coldly, 
 
 And dares to cross-question its doom, 
 Computes life s eclipses, and boldly 
 
 Would shatter the lid of the tomb. 
 
 Unconscious the world and its warder, 
 
 Yet a conscious mortal them views ; 
 Tho he be but the puppet of Order, 
 
 Still he chooses, or seemeth to choose ; 
 T is a paradox ? Well, let us scan it, 
 
 Tho never shall we understand ; 
 And knowledge to build on is granite, 
 
 But emotion is shifting sand. 
 
56 WAVE RLE r REVISITED. 
 
 Let Love still hector his minions, 
 
 Let dupes, if they must, aspire, 
 I will furl my ambition s pinions, 
 
 And deaden the nerves of desire ; 
 I will pitch me a tent of quiet 
 
 And therein with my mind sojourn ; 
 Afar from men s folly and riot, 
 
 I will learn what a man may learn. 
 
 Give me facts not the pallor nor blushes 
 
 Of passion s chameleon cheeks ; 
 Ere a merciless destiny crushes, 
 
 I will hearken what Science speaks. 
 Let me cease, then, from tears and from laughter, 
 
 Delusions and sham and show ! 
 Grant me reason now, rest hereafter, 
 
 I ask not to feel, but to know ! 
 
 WAVERLEY REVISITED. 
 
 RETROSPECT AND OUTLOOK. 
 
 UP from the waters of life, up from invisible 
 
 sources, 
 
 Spring, the Youth of the Year, Spring, 
 the blithe and divine, 
 
 Like the fresh, salt air of the sea, reviver of 
 
 virginal forces, 
 
 Breathes on this Waverley land, long ago 
 homestead of mine. 
 
 Maple and cedar rejoice, the orchard of apple- 
 trees blushes, 
 
WAVERLEY REVISITED. 57 
 
 By her ineffable kiss kindled with love and 
 
 delight : 
 
 Robert-o -Lincoln has come, the cat-birds call, 
 and the thrushes 
 
 Garland their thickets with song from the day 
 break into the night. 
 
 Spring-time in Italy oh, the indescribable 
 
 splendor ! 
 Florence, the Lily, afloat in an ocean of quiver- " 
 
 ing green ; 
 Fragrance of lemon and thyme, and rustle of 
 
 cypresses slender 
 Stirr d by the breezes which waft the carol of 
 
 throstles unseen ! 
 
 Mystical unison, blending of strength and splen 
 dor and sweetness, 
 
 Pageant of noonday enhanc d when moon 
 beams hallow the night 
 Love interfusing the soul with visions of joy and 
 
 completeness 
 
 This is the magic of Italy s Spring the 
 spell, the delight ! 
 
 Spring-time at Athens a chrism of hues from 
 
 ethereal fountains ! 
 
 Shimmer of tremulous waves, amethyst wed 
 ding with gold, 
 
 Emeralds set in the purple of immemorial moun 
 tains, 
 
 Veils of violet, opaline mists o er the horizon 
 unroll d ! 
 
58 WAVERLEY REVISITED. 
 
 Whithersoever she wanders, Spring on her beau 
 tiful mission 
 Touches with rapture the sky, wakens to 
 
 laughter the Earth ; 
 
 But we remember as fairest of all her first ap 
 parition, 
 
 When her miraculous wand transfigur d the 
 place of our birth. 
 
 Spirit of infinite Youth, thou modest yet master 
 ful Power 
 Quick ning ephemeral weeds and the heart of 
 
 the secular oak, 
 Knowing the longings of man, and the needs of 
 
 the bee and the flower, 
 Maid of the radiant face, maid of the violet 
 
 cloak, 
 Stubble and furrows of death, and desolate 
 
 branches and sadness 
 Winter bequeaths unto thee, and lo ! at a sign, 
 
 at a word, 
 Earth is a garden again, the world is a quire of 
 
 gladness, 
 
 Meadows and forests are gay, and every tree 
 has a bird ! 
 
 Nature, the tender and strong, the dear inex 
 haustible mother, 
 
 Having no Past to regret, suffers no loss or 
 decay ; 
 
WAVERLEY REVISITED. 59 
 
 Bloodroot and arbutus up she calls from the 
 
 leaves which smother, 
 Deep in the seed that she drops buries the 
 
 promise of May. 
 Seasons revolve and depart, but the Springtide 
 
 forever returning 
 Setteth the pulses a-dance in the veins of the 
 
 indolent year, 
 
 Into the rubble and mould she breathes an indis 
 tinct yearning, 
 
 Opening eyes, thro the bourgeoning twigs and 
 clover to peer. 
 
 Lilac-tufts nodding at me, wistaria flaunting thy 
 
 blossom, 
 Happy again and careless are ye, triumphant 
 
 and proud ! 
 Twenty and over you count the throbbings of 
 
 Youth in your bosom 
 Unto the year of our life only one Spring is 
 
 allow d ! 
 
 Now as I visit again the unforgettable places, 
 Here is the glorious Spring and the bygone 
 
 pageant I knew, 
 
 Jubilant Youth as of old disports and the land 
 scape embraces, 
 
 But ah ! no longer the eyes of a child look out 
 on the view ! 
 
 There is the staunch-built house but 1 11 cross 
 not its threshold enchanted ; 
 
60 WAVERLEY REVISITED. 
 
 Strangers, I know, are within, unaware that 
 
 they dwell in a tomb ; 
 How can they slumber and toil and laugh in a 
 
 sepulchre haunted ? 
 Ghosts if I enter d would rise to greet me in 
 
 every room. 
 
 So I will turn from the house where vernal re 
 nascence avails not 
 Relic of joys that are fled and of vanishing 
 
 mortals, it stands 
 Turn to behold once again and marvel at beauty 
 
 that fails not, 
 
 Spring, the Youth of the Year, refreshing 
 these Waverley lands. 
 
 Simple indeed is the landscape ! yet haughtily 
 
 Nature doth love it, 
 Bidding the emulous months each with a gem 
 
 to adorn ; 
 
 Night after night she unveils the great constella 
 tions above it, 
 Day after day she despatches the sun to arouse 
 
 it at morn. 
 
 Only a furlong of meadow, and undulant hil 
 locks surrounding, 
 Shaded by clusters of elm, girdled by walnut 
 
 and oak ; 
 Glimpses to westward of eve, thro rifts in the 
 
 foliage bounding ; 
 
 Farther beyond a village unseen, but guess d 
 from its smoke. 
 
WAVERLEY REVISITED. 61 
 
 Simple and narrow the landscape looks to my 
 
 soberer vision, 
 But it was wonderful once, a limitless world 
 
 to the boy, 
 
 Ample enough to enframe my pictures of mead 
 ows elysian, 
 
 Learned enough to impart the wisdom of Sor 
 row and Joy ! 
 Here was my earliest school, and Nature, my 
 
 earliest teacher, 
 Cunningly told me her lore, pretending to coax 
 
 me to play ; 
 How she confounded the intricate arts of pedant 
 
 and preacher, 
 
 Arguing never, but on her works stamping 
 her yea and her nay ! 
 
 Slender and sinuous brook, art gossiping still to 
 
 thy gravel ? 
 
 Formerly Tiber I saw, or Thames in thy hur 
 rying foam ; 
 
 Many the paper-built boats I launch d on thy cur 
 rents to travel, 
 " Paris " the willow I call d, and play d that 
 
 the boulder was Rome. 
 Hill to whose top the old lords of the land, the 
 
 pines, have retreated, 
 Waiting the final assault, how art thou shrunken 
 
 so low ? 
 
 Thou wert my Apennines once, thee as my 
 Andes I greeted, 
 
62 WAVERLEY REVISITED. 
 
 When the Decembers of yore mantled thy 
 shoulders with snow. 
 
 This is the grove where we gather d the nuts, 
 
 and hither I wander d, 
 
 Dreaming the dreams of a boy, fervent, fan 
 tastic, and grand ; 
 Nothing impossible seem d, nothing unreal, as I 
 
 ponder d 
 Deeds that should draw to my feet the world 
 
 with its laurel in hand. 
 
 This was my Kingdom of Fable, and I, the mon 
 arch of Fancies, 
 Peopled each sylvan retreat with goddesses, 
 
 heroes, and elves ; 
 Here I commun d with the souls who blazon the 
 
 deathless romances, 
 
 Talked with historical chiefs, felt I was one of 
 themselves. 
 
 Innocent glamour of childhood ! halos of beauty 
 
 and wonder 
 Circle the tiniest flower, hallow the commonest 
 
 thing ; 
 
 Nature has nothing profane, she utters no false 
 hood nor blunder 
 For ev ry child is a poet, men are all poets in 
 
 Spring ! 
 Memory, is it thy trick, thou cunningly soothing 
 
 magician ? 
 
 Turning to gold the alloy of the Past, annul 
 ling the pain, 
 
WAVERLEY REVISITED. 63 
 
 Mellowing shadows and lights with the art of the 
 
 master Venetian, 
 
 Stilling the tempests of grief, making the diffi 
 cult plain ? 
 
 Would I go back to the cradle, life unimprov d 
 
 to retravel ? 
 Plunge into pitfalls again, rally, endeavor, and 
 
 miss ? 
 Feel while I grasp d it the cord which bound me 
 
 to duty unravel ? 
 Barter the pangs of a year for the hope, unf ul- 
 
 fill d, of a kiss ? 
 See, as I saw, not the Earth but a wilderness 
 
 newly arisen ? 
 
 Morning and night to beseech the grim, imper 
 turbable sky? 
 
 Weep like an orphan bereft ? like criminal shack 
 led in prison, 
 
 Murmur my impotent prayers to the gods that 
 would not reply ? 
 
 Shudder again on the brink of murky abysses of 
 
 terror, 
 Hearing sardonical laughter rise out of chaos 
 
 below ? 
 Constantly seek for the truth, yet constantly 
 
 lapse into error ? 
 
 Learn at the end that our knowledge proves 
 that we never can know ? 
 
64 WAVERLET REVISITED. 
 
 Who would return to the day when evil in men 
 
 he discover d, 
 Horrified saw in his heart seeds of all possible 
 
 crime ? 
 When o er his spirit the bat-like imps of iniquity 
 
 hover d, 
 
 Hinting suspicion of virtue, mocking the fair 
 and sublime ? 
 
 Stand at a bedside again to watch a beloved one 
 
 fading 
 Into the mystery, into the silence unable to 
 
 save, 
 
 Water of Lethe bedewing the lips and the fore 
 head invading ? 
 No, I will turn, I will turn from the Past, for 
 
 the Past is a grave ! 
 Memory, cunning art thou to pluck out the thorns 
 
 of affliction, 
 Coyly thou bringest a rose as mark of a funeral 
 
 year ! 
 
 " Oh, we were happy in childhood ! " that is ma 
 turity s fiction ; 
 
 Let us give thanks that we are not compell d 
 to retrace our career. 
 
 Life is a zig-zag at best ; how slowly we strip off 
 
 illusion, 
 
 Dissipate legends and banish the mists that 
 befog and confine ; 
 
WAVERLEY REVISITED. 65 
 
 Neither the Future unborn nor the Past with its 
 
 mould and confusion 
 Only the Present is real, the Present alone is 
 
 divine ! 
 Truth and Reality burn with fulness of light that 
 
 the boldest 
 May not endure unprepar d ; films of delusion 
 
 are spun 
 Over the splendor which blinds ; tho dimly at 
 
 first thou beholdest, 
 
 When thou shalt need not the clouds, thou shalt 
 envisage the sun ! 
 
 So, should I perish to-day, depart with Spring s 
 
 glory around me, 
 Nothing beyond not a gleam ere I merg d 
 
 in unthinkable death, 
 
 Here at the home of my youth, where life s ex 
 altation first found me, 
 Here would I gird me and say to the Powers 
 
 that granted me breath : 
 " When you created us men, Powers almighty, 
 
 immortal, 
 Did you intend that this Earth should suffice 
 
 to appease our desire ? 
 Ah, not a path we can take but leads to your 
 
 heavenly portal, 
 
 Never a stone but it whispers of you, and bids 
 us aspire ! 
 
66 WAVERLEY REVISITED. 
 
 "We from the transient and false have sifted 
 
 the true and abiding, 
 Piercing the shows of the sense, we find your 
 
 inflexible law ; 
 
 Even of you, your majestic mien from our scru 
 tiny hiding, 
 
 We have divin d the ineffable glory and wis 
 dom and awe. 
 Twain are the natures in man ; one, selfishly 
 
 headstrong and bestial, 
 Tempts him to squander his arrowy years in 
 
 revels and lust ; 
 
 But by the other is he reminded of kinship celes 
 tial, 
 
 Bidden to strive for the thoughts that are pure, 
 the deeds that are just. 
 
 " Strong are the lures of the flesh, magnetic and 
 
 subtle its pleading 
 i Drink, for the night is at hand ! Kiss, ere 
 
 the lips become clay ! 
 Pleasures rejected will never return, then grasp 
 
 them, unheeding 
 Babblers of living hereafter have we less 
 
 knowledge than they ? 
 Self is a crafty attorney, plausible, urgent, and 
 
 clever ! 
 
 Easy it were to succumb to the siren s melodi 
 ous spell ! 
 
WAVERLEY REVISITED. 67 
 
 Nevertheless we have learn d to prefer, tho we 
 
 lose them forever, 
 
 Here to renounce our desires and the lures of 
 delight to repel. 
 
 "We, the ephemeral, we have attain d to the 
 
 rapture of giving 
 Succor to others, yea, life itself, their grief to 
 
 remove ; 
 Do we not bear with a smile, the duty, oft harder, 
 
 of living ? 
 And, tho ye hide from our search, we guess 
 
 that your nature is Love. 
 
 What must your majesty be, what the unspeak 
 able merit 
 Of your seraphic attendants, your children of 
 
 heavenly light, 
 If not the noblest of men the least of your bliss 
 
 may inherit, 
 
 Only permitted to worship afar twixt a dawn 
 and a night ! " 
 
 Hush ! from the blossoms of Spring come sweet 
 
 multitudinous voices, 
 Whispers of spirits that seem to the eye as a 
 
 bird or a tree ; 
 Meadow and hills are alive with joy, and the 
 
 heaven rejoices, 
 
 Ecstasy tuneth the lips of the world to a paean 
 of glee. 
 
68 THE AMERICAN. 
 
 Wider horizons and borderless skies lift ever be 
 fore tbee, 
 Thou shalt not cower, my soul, whose garment 
 
 is wove by the sun ! 
 Thou, with the world in thy heart, with eternity 
 
 hovering o er thee, 
 
 Thou and the Spring and thy hope, and the 
 Fountains of Being, are one. 
 
 THE AMERICAN. 
 
 To fare with giants was my fate ; 
 I understood no word they said, 
 But trembled at their grisly mien 
 And fear d their crushing tread. 
 
 They heeded not the timid dwarf, 
 They did not hearken when he cried, 
 But ran their circuits night and day, 
 And mighty was their stride. 
 
 I learn d their fatal path to shun, 
 I watch d their labor and its ends, 
 Till by-and-by I had no fear, 
 And they became my friends. 
 
 They Ve builded me a lordly home, 
 
 They ve brought me gifts from earth and 
 
 skies, 
 
 And what was once a wilderness 
 Is now a paradise. 
 
CONSTANCE. 69 
 
 And now, when I would journey forth, 
 I call the fleetest to my side, 
 He lifts me to his shoulder broad 
 T is mine, the giant s stride ! 
 
 CONSTANCE. 
 
 WHENEVER gentle thoughts would nest 
 
 They fly to my Beloved s breast ; 
 
 Sooth d on her heart they sleep and wake, 
 
 Like swans upon a placid lake. 
 
 When lovely wishes are astir 
 
 For our delight, they visit her ; 
 
 They shine their meaning thro her eyes, 
 
 And in her smiles paint Paradise. 
 
 I watch her thro the orchard pass, 
 And thro the waving upland grass, 
 The very clover loves her foot, 
 And not a bird to her is mute ! 
 Now she has gone behind the hill, 
 And yet, methinks, I see her still, 
 Upon her gracious mission bent 
 To bring the sick encouragement. 
 
 Now she has reach d the cottage-door, 
 And now has cross d the threshold o er : 
 What sudden radiances illume 
 The dying farmer s darken d room ? 
 What music lulls his drowsy ears, 
 As her consoling voice he hears ? 
 
70 THE POLITICIAN: A PORTRAIT. 
 
 He murmurs, " Wife, at last is come 
 The angel that will lead me home." 
 
 From Hesper : A Dramatic Poem. 
 
 THE VIOLIN S COMPLAINT. 
 
 HONEST Stradivari made me : 
 With the gift of love he blest me ; 
 Once, delight, a master play d me, 
 Love awoke when he caress d me ! 
 
 Oh the deep, ecstatic burning ! 
 Oh the secrets low and tender ! 
 Oh the passion and the yearning 
 At our love s complete surrender ! 
 
 Heartless men, so long to hide me 
 With the costly toys you cherish ; 
 I m a soul again confide me 
 To a lover, ere I perish ! 
 
 From Hesper : A Dramatic Poem. 
 
 THE POLITICIAN: A PORTRAIT. 
 
 WE thought that the plea of a mendicant purse 
 
 was estopt, 
 Our comrade was rich, not a briber could sully 
 
 his hand ; 
 
 The callow unwittingly fall in the snares of the bad, 
 But he had been train d by the best, with the 
 best he would stand. 
 
TEE POLITICIAN: A PORTRAIT. 71 
 
 " Go forth like to David," we cried, " on the glo 
 rious path, 
 
 And smite with the pebble of Right the giant of 
 Gath ! " 
 
 He brought the high promise, and Fortune her 
 
 requisite gifts 
 Wealth, learning, and rank ; so the issue, we 
 
 reckon d, was clear ; 
 He quoted the words which are wine to the hearts 
 
 of the brave : 
 We saw him equipt with the Truth, and depart 
 
 without fear. 
 " Go forth with our blessing ! " we cried ; " tho 
 
 our numbers be few, 
 They who fight without fear for the right shall 
 
 have strength to subdue ! " 
 He went and he barter d his soul : not by 
 
 blunder or bribe 
 Not even a sin that were genial to plead for his 
 
 shame ; 
 Our foes were a thousand and we but a score ; 
 
 he was vain 
 And they had but to tickle his ears by shouting 
 
 his name : 
 In a moment was forfeit the terrible strength of 
 
 the just ; 
 We despise and his wicked allies are too wary to 
 
 trust. 
 
72 THE SECRET OUT. 
 
 Hereafter no league will we strike with the plau 
 sible men 
 
 Whom the shouts of Philistines or flattering 
 words can restrain : 
 
 But send us a Lincoln, so earnest, so simple and 
 
 true, 
 
 Too poor to be tempted by riches, too proud to 
 be vain, 
 
 Who spurneth the flippant success and the popu 
 lar breath, 
 
 And will fight for the triumph of Right, unvan- 
 quisht till death. 
 
 THE SECRET OUT. 
 
 " ONLY the manner avails ! " daintily urg d Dil 
 ettante. 
 " Nay, the matter is all ! " Philosopher curtly 
 
 replied. 
 Then came Genius, and wrought in masterful 
 
 fashion a marvel : 
 
 " Lo ! my wisdom is prov d ! " each of the dis 
 putants cried. 
 
THE GIFTS OF THE FATES. 73 
 
 THE GIFTS OF THE FATES. 
 
 WHEN I was born, the Fates inscrutable, 
 Who do the will of Providence in men, 
 Came where I slept, and brought their awful 
 gifts. 
 
 First lean d the Eldest over me, and said, 
 " This seed, my child, Desire-of-Truth is call d. 
 I plant it in thee ; with thy growth t will grow, 
 And sweet and bitter shall its harvests be, 
 Bitter, and sweet, and fleeting. It will bear 
 The plenteous apples of Philosophy, 
 Red-cheek d and fair, but tainted at the core ; 
 And from it thou shalt pluck the grapes of 
 
 Art, 
 
 Which of themselves can never slake thy thirst ; 
 And all the fruits of Science spring from it, 
 Eat them thou shalt, with hunger unappeas d. 
 But ever must thou wait the coming crop 
 To satisfy thy wants. This is my gift." 
 She paus d, and sow d the seeming-tiny seed. 
 
 The second Sister, with the mien of one 
 
 Who mocks, pretending friendship, smil d, and 
 
 said, 
 
 "Let my boon, little godson, make thee great ! 
 Let it incite thee to excel, to soar 
 And sing above thy fellows ! " And she blew 
 Ambition s orient bubble in my brain. 
 
74 THE GIFTS OF THE FATES. 
 
 Then the third Sister, in whose haggard face 
 
 The wreck of beauty swam the waves of age, 
 
 Came to the cradle, look d at me, and stopp d, 
 
 As one that bears irrevocable news 
 
 Delays awhile to tell them. When she spoke 
 
 A lover s pity trembled in her words : 
 
 " Life s youngest hope ! my benison to thee ! 
 
 Pilgrim and waif, too soon the knowledge comes 
 
 That Earth is vast and lonely. For thy mate 
 
 A woman s Image in thine inmost soul 
 
 Indelibly I cut ; nor Time nor thou 
 
 May blot it out or mar. Be it thy lot 
 
 To wander thro the world and seek a face 
 
 To match thy soul s presentment. By decree, 
 
 These eyes shall haunt thee when thou fath- 
 
 omest 
 
 The dark or hazel eyes of half a race 
 Of women ; and distinctly from these lips, 
 Tho Folly lure thee and tho Circe tempt, 
 A voice shall speak My lover, come away, 
 Till thou shalt turn and listen. Books and 
 
 throngs, 
 
 The stress of circumstance and pride of power, 
 And the strong urge of emulous desire 
 To trample evil for another s good, 
 These shall detain thee, but they may not keep. 
 
 " Thy baffled yearning haply may create 
 
 In casual friend the semblance of thy Love, 
 
 A pitiful illusion ! Sad, like it 
 
 The shadowy counterpart thy restless mind 
 
THE GIFTS OF THE FATES. 75 
 
 May conjure from his hopes, and designate 
 
 To be in fancy worship d for the true, 
 
 This lifeless changeling shall thy passion scorn. 
 
 Amid the heat of spectral merriment 
 
 Oft thou shalt feel, but vaguely guess the cause, 
 
 Cold, sudden pangs, as for a world bereav d ; 
 
 Tears thou shalt shed that thine estate, the Earth, 
 
 Is but a film ensphering emptiness, 
 
 Which lately seem d an empire, boundless, 
 
 bright, 
 
 Where Hope might mate him with heroic deeds, 
 And splendid enterprise might kindle Will 
 To glory, as the sunshine kindles ocean. 
 Nay, even in thy triumphs thou shalt grieve, 
 And sigh the cheapness of success that lifts 
 Thee nothing nearer her. Yet evermore, 
 Above the victory, beyond despair, 
 Her smile shall teach reproof, encouragement. 
 At night, beneath the solemn stars and moon, 
 Thou shalt have inklings that thy Lady lives ; 
 In forests dim, across the sea s repose, 
 By vales of noon and ever-youthful brooks, 
 Contented lakes, and islands slumberous, 
 And on the mountains which outspread their 
 
 slopes 
 
 To hoard the golden bounty of the sun, 
 Thy heart shall cry, She lives ! The birds shall 
 
 sing 
 
 Their hints of her ; the flowers murmur, Haste, 
 But now our Sister pass d ! Thou shalt believe 
 The poets are her prophets ; thou shalt start 
 
76 PERFECTIBILITY. 
 
 To hear her voice when violin or flute 
 Wafts notes ineffable on Music s tide ; 
 And when dead Beauty looketh down on thee 
 From out the fading past, as angels smile 
 Upon believers thro the Future s veil, 
 Thou shalt exclaim, T is she! The painter saw 
 Or dream d my Love ! I may not rest ! On ! 
 On! 
 
 " This, darling, is the destiny I grave 
 
 Upon thine inmost soul. Thy quest shall be 
 
 The pattern of this Image. Thou shalt seek 
 
 Thro all the dark and open ways of life, 
 
 Retreat, repose, despair prohibited ; 
 
 And often shalt thou think of Death itself 
 
 As of a stream upon whose farther bank 
 
 This Form elusive, beautiful, and dear 
 
 Thou shalt pursue no more." She softly kiss d 
 
 My lips, and then departed with her mates. 
 
 The babe slept on, unconscious of his doom. 
 
 PERFECTIBILITY. 
 
 GOD first made man of common clay 
 And o er the Earth he brute-like went ; 
 But deep within his bosom stirr d 
 A strange, unearthly discontent. 
 
 Woman God made a living soul 
 He made her fair, he made her sweet, - 
 
DESIDERIA. 77 
 
 Upon her with delight man look d, 
 And brought his conquests to her feet. 
 
 In her he found his heart s desire ; 
 He lov d, and was no more a clod ; 
 Subtly she purifies his soul, 
 Surely she draws him up to God. 
 
 DEPARTURE. 
 
 MY feet no more this path shall tread 
 Which thro the changes of the year 
 To one unchanging welcome led, 
 To converse high and hearty cheer : 
 The weeds shall choke her lilies bed 
 And hide the violets here. 
 
 This path shall vanish like a wake 
 Upon the lonely, restless sea, 
 And here no dawn again shall break 
 On eyes that shone with joy for me : 
 As hearts have lov d, so must they ache 
 O sad mortality ! 
 
 DESIDERIA. 
 
 TWENTY years hence, when all is done, 
 If Time not sooner set me free, 
 Some may speak of a battle won : 
 What were a world of praise to me ? 
 
78 OVERHEARD IN HADES. 
 
 Grant the proudest that might befall, 
 Marble-cold is the laurel d brow ; 
 Friends, wealth, fame ? I would give them all, 
 Soul of my soul, for thy love now 1 
 
 UNWORTHINESS. 
 
 WHEN I remember what I am 
 And what I know my Love to be, 
 
 I tremble lest some day she grieve 
 My large unworthiness to see. 
 
 O Love, if e er this grief befall, 
 I pray thee, pity and forgive : 
 
 By thy sweet grace and purity, 
 
 If thou still love, I 11 learn to live. 
 
 OVERHEARD IN HADES. 
 
 LIKE the miser in whose hoard 
 Not a dollar for spending is stor d, 
 Death the ravenous, Death the base, 
 M^mch d and sulk d in charnel-place, 
 And tho battening ever was never content, 
 But whin d to himself this grim lament : 
 
 " Shall I ne er conquer in the strife 
 I wage with my niggardly rival, Life ? 
 Fed only as it may suit his will, 
 Must I go hungry and thirsty still ? 
 
OVERHEARD IN HADES. 79 
 
 My craving can never glutted be 
 Until a mortal shall come to me 
 In preference to my haughty foe. 
 Cold are the victuals he drops below ! 
 Scornfully into my larder he flings 
 Peasants and statesmen, priests and kings, 
 But not till the epicure, greedy and sly, 
 Has suck d their marrow and juices dry. 
 
 " Odd are the antics they play in the sun 
 
 As they try to cover their carrion ! 
 
 One swaddles his body in purple and gold, 
 
 And his fellows in thraldom he may hold ; 
 
 One dons three crowns and petticoats low, 
 
 And multitudes gather to kiss his toe ; 
 
 Another has buckled a sword at his side 
 
 And over the heads of a people may ride ; 
 
 A choker of white and a broadcloth coat 
 
 Peculiarly virtuous virtues denote ; 
 
 By a mantle of silk or a jacket of wool, 
 
 You shall know a judge from a common fool. 
 
 The Tailor is lord of the lords of the Earth, 
 
 Tho all men are equal and naked at birth ; 
 
 Two arms, two legs, a paunch and a head 
 
 That is the sum of the regalest dead ! 
 
 A bucket of water with crimson hue, 
 
 Of bones and ashes a quintal or two 
 
 What mortal has more ? Their glory and 
 
 love 
 They leave, when they die, in their wardrobe 
 
 above. 
 
80 OVERHEARD IN HADES.^ 
 
 " I have folded and fondled in my arms 
 
 Voluptuous Cleopatra s charms, 
 
 For which kings f ritter d a world away, 
 
 I found them only a tawnier clay ; 
 
 And large-ey d children have hither come, 
 
 Whose pallid cheeks and lips so dumb 
 
 Their mothers have kiss d in a blind despair, 
 
 As if the sources of bliss were there, 
 
 And I have kiss d in the self -same spot 
 
 If bliss was there, I tasted it not ; 
 
 I ve heard a desperate maid implore 
 
 To clasp her lover an instant more, 
 
 I ve seen a husband by night and by day 
 
 Watch his beloved wither away 
 
 How his hope would sink and mine would rise 
 
 At her waning strength and glassing eyes ! 
 
 Fathers have offer d their treasure to me 
 
 If I would but set their darlings free ; 
 
 And I have marvel d at friends so true 
 
 That, parted, no smiles the living knew : 
 
 Yet tho in the sun these precious seem d 
 
 All equally worthless them I esteem d ; 
 
 Whether fat or lean, whether young or old, 
 
 All tasted clammy, insipid, and cold, 
 
 To my immemorial appetite ; 
 
 I found no more pith nor smack of delight 
 
 In the dainty babe that dies at birth 
 
 Than in shrivel d Methuselah s juiceless earth. 
 
 " But Life feasts ever on winy blood 
 
 And tissues that glow in a passionate flood : 
 
OVERHEARD IN HADES. 81 
 
 While even the sick, by pangs distraught, 
 And even the sad, with anguish fraught, 
 And even the bad, whom remorse pursues, 
 Instead of me would my rival choose. 
 Only the fool, whose wits are unstrung, 
 Or the criminal rogue, by terror stung, 
 Would hasten his violent term s surcease 
 Not loving me, but in search of peace. 
 
 " Once to my ears the murmur of Fame 
 Whisper d a terrible Conqueror s name : 
 He had sent so many messengers o er 
 From the thick of battle, a million or more, 
 That I look d to him as a dear ally, 
 And hungrily waited for him to die. 
 One night, when the Earth was shaken by storm, 
 Hither was wafted my Emperor s form 
 A godlike forehead, a parchment cheek, 
 Moufti pinch d, eyes sunken, and eagle beak ; 
 And this, forsooth, was my long-sought prize ! 
 More succulent is each beggar that dies. 
 
 " Once, once, I deem d my victory near, 
 
 And to greet a willing visitor here : 
 
 For a Pessimist proud, of lancet wit, 
 
 Condemn d the world, after probing it, 
 
 And declar d oh, sweetest of human breath ! 
 
 That better, far better than Life is Death. 
 
 He emptied the vials of his scorn 
 
 Over a universe forlorn, 
 
 Which easily might have been Paradise 
 
82 OVERHEARD IN HADES. 
 
 If somebody only had ask d his advice, 
 Instead of a blundering, broken machine, 
 Which must be forever because it has been, 
 Unable to pause for oil or repairs, 
 Crushing and killing the puppets it bears. 
 How it chanc d that a creature so wise was cre 
 ated 
 
 By lunatic force, has never been stated ; 
 But I relish d his wisdom and did n t inquire 
 If my sage philosophe had a fool for his sire. 
 He prov d there s no basis for hope nor for joy, 
 And that to exist means just to destroy, 
 Since all things, as he infallibly saw, 
 Must feed blind Will s insatiate maw. 
 But most he hated and most despis d 
 His groveling fellowmen, who priz d 
 Their tyrant Life the coward crew 
 Who shut their eyes to the real and true, 
 Call evil good, call torment bliss, 
 And crawl on their trembling knees to kiss 
 The hand that smites, for mercy plead 
 From the demon himself, who their woe de 
 creed, 
 
 Who ask forgiveness for sin and wrong 
 That not to them but to him belong, 
 And pray that forever, having died, 
 They may strum their harps his throne beside. 
 4 Vile dupes and cringers, my Pessimist quoth, 
 Cowards and hypocrites, tho I am loth, 
 * The core of my wonderful secret to tell, 
 1 11 give you a hint ; so, ponder it well. 
 
OVERHEARD IN HADES. 83 
 
 * We all can make our martyrdom less 
 
 4 By returning at once into Nothingness. 
 
 * In sterile sorrows our years why spend 
 4 To reach, by misery s zig-zag, the end 
 
 < To which with a step we can instantly cross, 
 Now and forever ? Existence is loss, 
 Constant and imbecile ; let us die, 
 For death, only Death can satisfy ! 
 
 * Let us play one joke on insolent Fate, 
 1 And out of his wilderness emigrate ; 
 
 Not a man remain to suffer his curse 
 While the bungling scheme jolts from bad to 
 worse. 
 
 " So I thought, At last joy seeketh me ! 
 
 And I watch d my sapient spokesman, but he, 
 
 Tho oft from his lips pour d out my praise, 
 
 Was greedy of living many days. 
 
 No Sadducee ever more tightly clung 
 
 To Life, than he of the lying tongue ; 
 
 The flattery of men he sought, 
 
 Arid every callow disciple brought 
 
 A vulgar pleasure to his conceit ; 
 
 And loudest he preach d that I am sweet 
 
 When most his selfish desires he fed ; 
 
 And he damn d Life hardest when Death he 
 
 fled; 
 
 Until, at three score two ^,nd ten 
 This lifelong hypocrite, vilest of men, 
 Died, and his corpse I hurried to pitch 
 To the maggots and rats in yonder ditch. 
 
84 PRISONERS. 
 
 " And still I starve, and may feel no joy 
 Till a willing mortal I hither decoy ; 
 While Life is as jubilant now as when 
 He began his pastime of making men. 
 I cannot conceive what sport there is 
 In crowding Hades with carcases ! " 
 
 PRISONERS. 
 
 EVERYWHERE the sculptor hears 
 A voice unheard by other ears ; 
 It half commands and half entreats, 
 As this burden it repeats : 
 " Hasten, master ! quickly come ! 
 Countless ages, dark and dumb, 
 Frozen in this prison white 
 Has my beauty long d for light. 
 Hasten ! with thy chisel keen 
 Cut away my marble screen, 
 And before your gladden d eyes 
 See a perfect statue rise ! " 
 
 So at times I strangely hear 
 Messages distinctly near, 
 
 " Tarry not ! I would be free ! " 
 Whisper lips well known to me. 
 
 " Silence deeper than the tomb, 
 Darkness raven as the gloom 
 Wrapping the decrees of Fate, 
 Here surround me as I wait. 
 Hasten, hasten to set free 
 Thy perfect self that is to be ! " 
 
VASHTI. 85 
 
 FAME. 
 
 " BETTER than all is fame," he said : 
 " T is better than wealth or wine 
 To see the populace sway its head 
 And to hear its shouts combine ! 
 
 " Sweeter than kiss the bridegroom sips, 
 
 Is the honey-sweet of fame, 
 When the grateful nation opens its lips 
 To utter a hero s name ! " 
 
 Trampled by hoofs and hurrying feet, 
 With powder and blood bestain d, 
 
 His body they found, on the foe s retreat, 
 Where the bullets thickest rain d. 
 
 Silently thro the crowded street 
 
 The muffled coffin came ; 
 Not a word not a cheer hearts quicker 
 beat, 
 
 And that was the hero s fame. 
 
 VASHTI. 
 
 THERE is a pleasure-place surpassing fair, 
 In lawns abounding and dim bridal bowers ; 
 All tropic spices and exotics rare 
 Mingle their fragrance with the sweet wild-flow 
 ers ; 
 And from a terrac d hill gleam haughty towers. 
 
86 VASHTI. 
 
 And there are stately trees whose shadows loop 
 Broad cirques of twilight round their trunks all 
 
 day; 
 
 And orchards ever-ripe, whose branches droop 
 With fruits which feed the eye ; and fountains 
 
 play, 
 Tingeing with fadeless irises their spray. 
 
 Pomegranates there, and purple figs and white, 
 And grapes f ull-orb d, with amethystine gloss, 
 Peep from the leaves and lure the appetite ; 
 Anemones on breezy uplands toss, 
 And poppies slumber in a windless fosse. 
 
 Enchanting beings dwell there at their ease, 
 Women of queenly stature, dream y-ey d, 
 Who wander pensive o er the terraces, 
 Or leisurely thro copse and meadows glide, 
 Or float in shallops on a drowsy tide. 
 
 Their raiment is of snow-white gossamer, 
 Which like a nimbus round them vaguely flows, 
 And undulates responsive when they stir, 
 Or ripples sinuous over their repose, 
 And flushes faintly with the body s rose. 
 
 Sometimes they bathe them in a placid lake, 
 
 And gather lotus-blossoms, or compete 
 
 With swift, majestic swans ; sometimes they 
 
 make 
 
 Fair patterns on the greensward with their feet, 
 Their skirts far-floating, as they curve and meet. 
 
VASHTI. 87 
 
 A purple mist hangs over that demesne, 
 Such as September breathes among the hills, 
 Dreamy, delightful ; and from quires unseen 
 A siren-melody the garden fills 
 Sweeter than fragrance which a rose distils. 
 
 Wistful, I paus d before the ivied gate, 
 
 And roam d in fancy aisles of high-branch d 
 
 trees ; 
 
 Then spake a soothing voice, " Why hesitate ? 
 Here is the refuge that from sorrow frees, 
 Thine to enjoy are all its joyaunces." 
 
 Then stole a Damsel from a thicket near, 
 
 And when she came and laid her hand in 
 
 mine, 
 
 And whisper d sweet perdition in my ear, 
 My pulses tingled as with charmed wine, 
 And I was captive to her eyes divine. 
 
 She led me unresisting tow rds the Hall, 
 And with gay tales our passing entertain d ; 
 But if I woo d, she let her lashes fall, 
 In startled modesty, and sigh d, and feign d 
 Delicious languor, and my kiss restrain d. 
 
 Her beautiful companions as we pass d 
 Hail d us with smiles, and gleeful music made : 
 And thus we mounted to the Palace vast 
 Whose alabaster portals are inlaid 
 With lazuli and agate, sard and jade. 
 
88 VASHTI. 
 
 Golconda s poorer for the riches there ! 
 Great orient rubies on the threshold burn d, 
 And diamonds sparkled each a monarch s 
 
 wear 
 
 By me unheeded when the Damsel turn d 
 Her lips for kisses, and I, kissing, yearn d. 
 
 How nimbly she her girdle-clasp undid, 
 Disclosing as the fluttering garment fell 
 Canova s dream of Helen, how she hid 
 Her face upon my breast, I may not tell : 
 Long is the pow r of Aphrodite s spell ! 
 
 Know ye the pangs of unconsuming fire 
 And burden of much kissing, when ye learn 
 Satiety is restless as desire, 
 And habit drives ye to the sin ye spurn, 
 And deeper loathing is your sin s return ? 
 
 One eve, beneath our blue-enamel d roof, 
 Where hung a mimic moon, and gems were 
 
 set 
 
 In artful constellations, grim, aloof, 
 I listen d to the Damsel s canzonet, 
 Which coil d around me like an amulet. 
 
 She ceas d, and for a moment neither stirr d, 
 But I could feel her sorcery draw near 
 And lure in will s despite : and then I heard 
 A Voice that seem d within me utter clear, 
 I am Eternal : all is mortal here"! 
 
PREMONITIONS. 89 
 
 As when Lisbona into Tagus sank 
 There was a roar of waters and a leap, 
 A momentary gurgle as they drank 
 Magnificence which ages toil d to heap 
 Then sunshine s mockery, and silence deep : 
 
 So swiftly were those pleasure-haunts destroy d, 
 Their pride annull d, their feres annihilate, 
 And all their lawns and bosky spaces void : 
 Neath murky skies, across morasses great, 
 Alone I grop d, appall d and desperate. 
 
 PREMONITIONS. 
 
 HAVE you ever felt your heart heave fast, 
 And the tears rush into your eyes, 
 
 And a sense of victory flood your soul 
 As the sunlight floods the skies ? 
 
 And you cannot tell why your heart exults, 
 Or whence those sweet tears rise ; 
 
 But you know, tho you age with a thousand 
 
 worlds, 
 That Youth beyond them lies ! 
 
 ii. 
 
 Heavenly hours that mark the passing 
 
 Of the couriers of Truth ! 
 Premonitions that the future 
 
 Shall fulfil the vision Youth ! 
 
90 MANKIND S HIGHEST. 
 
 Thoughts elusive and so dainty 
 
 That they scarcely kiss the mind, 
 
 Kiss, and flee e er we can clasp them, 
 Leaving ecstasy behind ! 
 
 TO TRUTH. 
 
 GOADED by fears, by doubts perplex d, 
 By rival gusts of logic vex d, 
 Baffled by whither, whence, and why, 
 To thee, O Truth, to thee I cry ! 
 
 Hide not thy wormwood-nippled breast 
 Quenchless my thirst, life-old my quest ! 
 O hide no more, but satisfy, 
 Tho I grow drunk or mad, or die ! 
 
 MANKIND S HIGHEST. 
 
 A DREAM entic d the Spirit of the Earth, 
 And as, in sleep, fantastic shapes he chas d, 
 The Hours slumber d and the Laws delay d. 
 When he awoke, behold ! man s puny race 
 He found had in the fleeting interval 
 Expir d as silently as bubbles burst. 
 A smile of pity cross d the Spirit s lips : 
 " To think the weaklings, if I nodded, died ! 
 But after all," he said, " the tiny imps 
 Have startled from me many a hearty laugh. 
 
ELEGY. 91 
 
 My time would drag could I no longer see 
 The shifting scenes of Human Comedy." 
 
 So men he made anew : and that the new 
 Might nowise differ from the elder breed, 
 He hunted mid the ruins of the past 
 A book wherein true types of men are drawn ; 
 And from those patterns he repeopled Earth. 
 Upon that book, my Shakespeare, was thy name. 
 
 ELEGY 
 
 ON A LITTLE FRIEND WHO WAS DROWNED. 
 
 MOURN not for those who die in youth : the 
 splendor 
 
 Of day s beginning lighted all they knew ; 
 For them no tale of losses, no surrender 
 
 Nor the long struggle to be simply true. 
 
 The sun, the stars, the shimmer of the ocean 
 Were wonders still, not yet too often seen ; 
 
 Life to young eyes is heightened by emotion 
 The goal, how fair ! unguess d the toil be 
 tween. 
 
 They heard of noble deeds, and long d to do 
 
 them, 
 Sure that their wish should all they wish d 
 
 possess ; 
 
 The magnet pow r of antique heroes drew them ; 
 ^ The best they lov d, nor dreamt the world 
 gives less. 
 
92 MIDWINTER WISHES. 
 
 We, we must age, but in our recollection 
 Forever young, forever bright, they shine ! 
 
 From death they took the last supreme perfec 
 tion 
 Of souls untarnish d by the soul s decline. 
 
 Mourn not for them : wherever be the sources 
 Of love and gladness, thither have they gone ; 
 
 And infinite, like hope s, are now their courses, 
 And theirs the beauty of eternal dawn. 
 
 MIDWINTER WISHES. 
 
 O TO lie in the ripening grass 
 That gracefully bends to the winds that pass, 
 And to look aloft, the oak-leaves through, 
 Into the sky so deep, so blue ! 
 
 O to feel as utterly free 
 As the oriole swinging above on the tree, 
 Or the locusts piping their drowsy whirr, 
 Or the down that sails from the thistle-burr ! 
 
 O to float with the cloudy drifts, 
 Changing hue as the sunlight shifts, 
 Or hastening gaily into the West 
 To follow the blushing sun to rest ! 
 
 O for the secret of Nature s power 
 To drain the joy of the present hour ! 
 O to work and glow in the sun ! 
 O to sleep, when the day is done ! 
 
SOLIDARITY. 93 
 
 WEST AND EAST. 
 
 WHEN my soul darkens at the time s disgrace, 
 The pious cant of rogues in public place, 
 Private debauch, and wolfish, mad pursuit 
 Of joyless wealth, all genial voices mute, 
 From our too sordid, sensual West I turn 
 To the rapt East, where mystic dreamers yearn. 
 
 Speechless, astonish d, worshiping they brood 
 Before the vision of Infinitude 
 The Spirit Everlasting, in whose sight 
 The constellated splendors of the night 
 Are but as dew upon the morning grass, 
 A moment s sparkle, ere they drop and pass. 
 
 To souls transfigur d by this glimpse sublime 
 What were desires whose purpose ends in Time ? 
 To hearts communing with Eternal Power 
 What were the mundane triumphs of an hour, 
 Or service of the senses ? Pleasure, pain, 
 And all that dims that vision, they disdain. 
 
 SOLIDARITY. 
 
 SHEPHERD on Dakota s hills 
 
 When you drive your flock to shearing, 
 Sailor on the Carib Sea 
 
 As your ship is southward steering, 
 
94 NOCTURNE. 
 
 Guess ye where the goal may be ? 
 Fleece and freight shall come to me, 
 Spite of distance and of veering. 
 
 Hands shall pass, but none shall keep 
 
 Till into the hand intended 
 Drop the unknown brother s gift, 
 And the service-chain be ended. 
 
 Spin and weave, then ! sow and reap, 
 Drive the furrow thro the deep, 
 Work of one with all is blended. 
 
 Cease the feud of hand and brain ! 
 
 Tell me, which in worth exceeded, 
 Who first made the duty plain, 
 Or who best the duty heeded ? 
 No true worker works in vain, 
 Each shall have his wage again, 
 All are noble, all are needed. 
 
 NOCTURNE. 
 
 O NIGHT of infinite power and infinite silence and 
 
 space, 
 From you may mortals infer, if ever, the scope 
 
 divine ! 
 The jealous Sun conceals all but his arrogant 
 
 face, 
 
 You bid the Milky Way and a million suns to 
 shine. 
 
UNREQUITED PASSION. 95 
 
 Each star to numberless planets gives light and 
 
 motion and heat, 
 But you enmantle them all, the nearest and 
 
 most remote ; 
 And the lustres of all the suns are but spangles 
 
 under your feet, 
 
 Mere bubbles and beads of noon, they circle 
 and shine and float. 
 
 TO 
 
 STAND there a moment, while the sun 
 
 Touches thy hair ! Lift, lift those eyes divine 
 
 Until they look in mine, 
 
 So ! I would clasp thee in embrace 
 
 Death-proof, and feel thy face 
 
 And breast and form melt, mingle, intertwine, 
 
 Till Mine and Thine 
 
 Were one, forever one ! 
 
 UNREQUITED PASSION. 
 
 THE roses climb over the trellis, 
 
 And blush at the sun s warm kiss, 
 The meadow-grass sports with the South wind, 
 
 The little birds carol their bliss : 
 O lisp not of love, little blossoms, 
 
 O cease, little birds from your glee ; 
 Your joy only sharpens my anguish, 
 
 There is never more love for me. 
 
96 THE HYMN OF FORCE. 
 
 Instead of your gayness that mocks mo, 
 
 T were easier far to bear 
 The grimmest of all the aspects 
 
 That Nature in anger can wear, 
 Some swift and awful convulsion 
 
 That shatters the earth in twain, 
 When man, as he dies defiant, 
 
 Forgets his impotent pain ! 
 
 THE HYMN OF FORCE. 
 
 I AM eternal ! 
 
 I throb thro the ages ; 
 I am the master 
 
 Of each of Life s stages. 
 
 I quicken the blood 
 
 Of the mate-craving lover ; 
 The age-frozen heart 
 
 With daisies I cover. 
 
 Down thro the aether 
 I hurl constellations ; 
 
 Up from their earth-bed 
 I wake the carnations. 
 
 I laugh in the flame 
 As I kindle and fan it ; 
 
 I crawl in the worm ; 
 I leap in the planet. 
 
THE HYMN OF FORCE. 97 
 
 Forth from its cradle 
 
 I pilot the river ; 
 In lightning and earthquake 
 
 I flash and I shiver. 
 
 My breath is the wind ; 
 
 My bosom the ocean ; 
 My form s undefin d ; 
 
 My essence is motion. 
 
 The braggarts of science 
 
 Would weigh and divide me ; 
 
 Their wisdom evading, 
 I vanish and hide me. 
 
 My glances are rays 
 
 From stars emanating ; 
 My voice thro* the spheres 
 
 Is sound, undulating. 
 
 I am the monarch 
 
 Uniting all matter ; 
 The atoms I gather, 
 
 The atoms I scatter. 
 
 I pulse with the tides, 
 
 Now hither, now thither ; 
 I grant the tree sap ; 
 
 I bid the bud wither. 
 
 I always am present, 
 
 Yet nothing can bind me; 
 
98 THE CHASE. 
 
 Like thought, evanescent, 
 They lose me who find me. 
 
 BEREFT. 
 
 AT night, in the haunts of slumber, 
 Wakeful I lie and weep, 
 
 For the burden of loss is upon me 
 And will not let me sleep. 
 
 Far off, the desolate ocean 
 
 Utters its old refrain 
 The sigh of eternal passion, 
 
 The sob of eternal pain. 
 
 THE CHASE AND NOT THE QUARRY 
 CHARMS. 
 
 CALM was the woodland as at dawn : 
 Perdu amid its stillness, I 
 Dream d open-ey d, when lo, a fawn 
 Went softly sauntering by. 
 
 Her skin was dappled, sleek, and fair, 
 Her form was joyous to behold ; 
 She brows d and hearken d with an air 
 Half timorous, half bold. 
 
 It was a witching sight to see 
 Above the ferns her lovely head, 
 
THE CHASE. 99 
 
 So tame, and yet so proud and free ! 
 She spied me trembled fled ! 
 
 The pulses of my will took fire, 
 And every thought my being through 
 Was molten to a sole desire, 
 That creature to pursue. 
 
 Long, long the chase ! no swallow swoops 
 So swiftly o er a rippled lake, 
 As she just brush d the startled troops 
 Of evergreen and brake. 
 
 But if I paus d for lack of breath, 
 Or if I slak d me at a brook, 
 Like one who subtly maddeneth, 
 She too would pause and look. 
 
 Long, long the chase ! At last prevail d 
 My stronger sinews, stauncher will ; 
 Upon a mossy bank she f ail d, 
 
 Frighten d, but tame and still. 
 
 I bent to stroke her glossy head, 
 When, wonder ! by a sudden spell, 
 My dappled beauty gone instead, 
 A beauteous damosel. 
 
 She lur d me with her lustrous eyes, 
 She seem d part eager, part afraid ; 
 " I am the dauntless lover s prize, 
 My will is thine," she said. 
 
100 IREM. 
 
 Her beauty lighted up the wood, 
 Her cheeks were joyful as the dawn, 
 But drew me not, for I pursued 
 In fancy still the fawn. 
 
 IREM. 
 
 THE Arab dreams in his tent 
 
 Of Irem, the Beautiful City, 
 
 Which as a child he was told 
 
 His ancestors builded of marble : 
 
 He dreams, and a yearning for home 
 
 For the life unspent in the desert, 
 
 For the shady repose of the courtyard, 
 
 The tinkle and flash of the fountain, 
 
 And voice of friends at the threshold, 
 
 Stirs in his heart and awakes him. 
 
 There, thro the folds of his tent, 
 
 He sees along the horizon 
 
 The minarets gleaming and domes 
 
 Of Irem, the Beautiful City, 
 
 Of Irem, the home of his dream ! 
 
 Mount not, Arab, thy steed, 
 
 Be not the dupe of the desert ! 
 
 See the mirage, how it fades ! 
 
 Never may mortal attain 
 
 To the gate of beautiful Irem. 
 
 I too, I too have beheld, 
 
 When all but the ache in my heart 
 
REVERIE. 101 
 
 Lay quiet in sleep, I have seen 
 
 The deeps of my spirit unveil, 
 
 And a Beautiful City beyond them. 
 
 Its walls and its spires are caught 
 
 In the flush of the splendor of dawn, 
 
 And the fragrance of June is afloat, 
 
 From the blossoming trees in the streets. 
 
 I hear the laughing companions, 
 
 I hear the voice of the mother, 
 
 And down from the steps of her home, 
 
 She comes, my Soul s Desire, 
 
 She comes, with a welcoming hand, 
 
 With love on her lips, and a song. 
 
 Fain would I speak, but for sobs 
 
 Fain would I look, but my eyes 
 
 Are blurr d with tears, and the Vision 
 
 Fades in the mist of grief. 
 
 Sweet, sweet, sweet, 
 
 Tender and sad and sweet, 
 
 In the desert at noon the mirage 
 
 Which memory paints on the soul, 
 
 Of Irem the City of Morning, 
 
 The home of the hopes of our Youth. 
 
 REVERIE. 
 
 SWEET is it over shelving sands to stroll 
 When the victorious tide begins to lose, 
 And watch the stubborn-yielding billows roll, 
 
102 REVERIE. 
 
 Or look upon the mid-sea s scudding hues, 
 Sweet is it then to loiter and to muse. 
 
 The keel of Argo cut that furrow there 
 
 When Jason cried " To Colchis " ! This spent 
 
 foam 
 
 Was Aphrodite s pillow ; mermaids fair 
 Adorn d them with this sea-weed in their home, 
 Where coral-forests bloom and dolphins roam. 
 
 Now wroth Achilles to Poseidon tells 
 His grievances and retribution vows ; 
 Now the last eloquence of Athens swells 
 Above the mob of breakers ; here carouse 
 The f air-hair d Argives near their ruddy prows. 
 
 Here rise the saucy, unobsequious waves 
 To wet the sandals of the Danish king ; 
 Here spectral pirates crawl from nameless graves 
 And count again their booty, quarreling ; 
 And here Pizarro draws the fatal ring. 
 
 Columbus kneels exultant, and unfurls 
 The cognizance of Christ and Ferdinand ; 
 Here weeping mothers and bewilder d girls 
 Cry out " God speed ye ! " to the Mayflower 
 
 band, 
 Long after sails are hidden from the land. 
 
 And Bonaparte here reconstructs his doom, 
 Reversing Waterloo, or peers afar 
 
THE REFORMER. 103 
 
 Till Breton cliffs along the horizon loom 
 In bitter-sweet mirage ; this sodden spar 
 Bore Nelson s duty-sign at Trafalgar. 
 
 Flotsam and jetsam of o erladen Time, 
 
 Wash d on the strand where Fancy musing goes ! 
 
 The waves ebb d with my dreams, and now 
 
 reclimb 
 
 The glistening slope, a wild Northeaster blows, 
 And on the sea its frothy mantle throws. 
 
 THE EEFORMER. 
 
 THIS is, O Truth, the deepest woe 
 Of him thou biddest to protest ; 
 
 With men no kinship may he know, 
 Thy mission hems from worst and best. 
 
 The wolf that gauntly prowl d the wood 
 From human kind more mercy got, 
 
 Than he who leads men to their good, 
 And stands alone, yet flinches not. 
 
 Thou grantest not one friendly hand, 
 Or heart, on which he may rely ; 
 
 Alone and dauntless must he stand, 
 Alone must fight, alone must die ! 
 
104 ENVOI. 
 
 ENVOI. 
 
 I WALKED with poets in my youth, 
 Because the world they drew 
 
 Was beautiful and glorious 
 Beyond the world I knew. 
 
 The poets are my comrades still, 
 But dearer than in youth, 
 
 For now I know that they alone 
 Picture the world of truth. 
 
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