THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES EANTHE : A TALE OF THE DRUIDS, AND OTHER POEMS. EDINBURGH : r RIMED BY JAMES CLARKE & CO EANTHE: A TALE OF THE DRUIDS, AND OTHER POEMS. By SANDFORD EARLE, Esq. EDINBURGH : PRINTED FOR JAMES ROBERTSON & Co. SOUTH ST. DAVID STREET, EDINBURGH ; WILLIAM CURRY, Jvx. & Co. DUBLIN; SIMPKIN & MARSHALL, LONDON. 1830. SRLF PREFACE. The period when the events narrated in the follow ing Poem happened, or are supposed to have happened, was soon after the introduc- tion of Christianity into Britain and its neigh- bouring Isles. The frame-work of the Poem, if I may be permitted to use the expression, is composed of three of the principal ceremo- nies of the Druids, in illustrating which my intention was to depict the struggle arising in the breast of a young convert to the pure prin- ciples of Christianity, in consequence of her enthusiastic attachment to a noble being of her own race. How far I have succeeded, those who read may judge. vi PREFACE. I am aware, however, that there are some who will object to the introduction of the solemn truths of religion in so light a work. To such, I answer, that I shall be glad if these truths meet the eye of one solitary being who may not otherwise ' peruse them. Let him turn to where he will find them in much beauty, and, like the roses of Benares, scat- tered far and wide as the eye can reach, or the heart desire. The catastrophe of the Poem, I regret to say, is historically true. But I will not an- ticipate, it must tell its own tale. CONTENTS. EANTHE. Page Canto First ..... 1 Second .... 55 Third - - - - - 106 Notes to Canto First - . - 143 Second - - - - 147 Third ... - 152 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. The Valley of Dry Bones - - - 157 Mackinnon - - - - . 161 The Lonely Portrait - - - - 165 " When on that Pale, Cold Face I Look" - 175 Thy Golden Shields are Melted" - - 176 Saul and the Prophet . - - 179 Tiii CONTENTS. Page Early Lore .... - 182 The Light of the Eye 216 The Last of hi Race - - 217 The Warrior's Death 220 To Ida - . 222 The Departed Light - 224 The Last Scene of Aloyse - 225 Mount Sinai - 228 The Desolation of Egypt - 230 The Angel of Earth and Heaven 232 The Sun of the Hopeless - 234 To E , on her Sixteenth Birth-day 237 The Heart's Farewell ... - 238 " Who is the Old Man ?" 240 To .... - 242 The Three Loves, and their Type 243 A Sister's Death - - 246 The Dead Greek 247 The Greek Slave - - 250 To Ida .... 253 " Oh, that I had the Wings of a Dove !" - 255 The Buried Dead 256 The Evening Star ... - 257 From the Greek ... 258 CONTENTS. ix Page To Ida - - 2G0 To the North Star 261 To - . 2G3 The Dying Bnrd 264 The Golden Leaf - 265 The Change .... 268 There is Balm in Gilead - 271 There is One kinder than a Brother 2?S The Last Hope .... - 274 The Memory of the Past 278 Earthly Hopes - - 279 To Youth and Age - 280 The Ruined Heart 282 The Wanderer's Light 283 " There is no Sin" 293 " Weep not for Me" 294 The Church-yard - 295 " I ask not Smiles" - - 296 The Hope of the Future 298 Juana .... 300 The Voice To Ida - - 303 A Madhouse Scene - 305 To 312 The Past - - 313 x CONTENTS. Page The Parting Spirit - 314 But Oh, if Love" - - - - 315 Music ... - - - 317 Constancy - - - 319 Written to Music - - - - 321 The Remembrance of the Past - 322 The Calm and the Storm ... 328 The Repressed Wish - 330 The Simile 331 " Sweet Harp of Judah" - 332 The Sinless Day - - 334 Life and Death ..... 335 " Oh Comfort Ye" - . - 33C " Oh the Light on thy Countenance Shining" 338 The Flower of Home - - - - 339 To Earthly Hope - ... 340 The Year - .... 341 " They knew Thee not" - - - 344 " Oh I could Weep" 346 The Night of Sorrow ... -348 The Disciples' Triumph 349 Nebuchadnezzar - ... . 351 A Better Hope - .... 354 " Thev have not Run in Vain" - - 355 CONTENTS. xi Page Written to Music - - 357 Death's Pastime ... - 358 The End of Both - 360 The Sunset of Life ... 366 The Light of the Evening ... 366 Caesar at Jerusalem ... . 368 The Day of the Lord ... 370 The Light of Ruined Hopes - - 3/1 Fancy's Dream - ... 373 The Death of Herod - -374 To - ... 376 The Last Man ! - ... 377 Where shall we Meet ? ... 380 Oh ye Afflicted - - - 382 EANTHE : A TALE OF THE DRUIDS. Canto tfiv&t 'Twas when the Sun of Righteousness arose, With healing on his wings, to bring repose To this lost world, through that pure holy faith, That, in its meekness, conquers even death, In one of those sweet verdant isles which grace That waveless sea, on whose unruffled breast The setting sun sinks smiling to its rest, A grove of ancient oaks, old as the flood, Thick, dark, and sombre, venerably stood. 2 EANTHE : In its most inmost centre was a place Of sacred worship, fashioned by a race Long, long forgotten now ; they who, of old, Knew hidden things, and secrets dark and deep, And taught their Princes knowledge ; they who told Of other worlds, and trode, alone, the steep And weary path that leads to wisdom's heights Not Persia's Magi, in their day of might, Nor India's Brahmans, nor the Chaldeans, knew More than old Britain's Druids, b till the light Of Revelation came, bright as the dew On tempered steel, destroying all its pride. Then vaunted learning boasted wisdom died For as some sinless spirit breathing on Hearts which had slept in darkness for long years, Or, if they woke at all, awoke alone To sorrow sighing misery and tears, It came, and shed around a light that stole Like strains of music o'er the dreamer's soul, So soft so sweet that even woe and pain, And sin ; seemed banished from this world again. A TALE OF THE DRUIDS. 3 2. There still remains a tale of two, who were Both children of this race, one, passing fair, And beautiful and mild a maiden she Of noble birth ; the other was a youth Of still more noble lineage, and he Lov'd that fond maiden with devoted truth. But more of this anon. The maiden's name, Which was Eanthe, sounded soft and sweet, Like nothing but herself for her slight frame, Slight as a reed, none ever dreamt could meet The storms that rage in life, and, meeting, be Unshattered still on its tempestuous sea. But the strong ship, with masts and cordage high, All proud and gorgeous, pointing to the sky, As if its home were there, has oft been laid A broken wreck upon the treach'rous sand, While the gay, light, and smiling bark hath made, Untouched, unharmed, its voyage safe to land. 4 EANTHE : 3. She was most beautiful her sunny hair Hung parted o'er a brow and cheek so fair, And calm, and still, that, but for two dark eyes, Fringed by long silken lashes' fall and rise, That sometimes shaded, sometimes gave to view The winning sweetness of their smiling blue Ye might have deemed that brow and cheek had been Carved from the marble of Medici's Queen : While her slight form, so delicately fair, And veined with beauty, floating on the air, Scarce seemed to touch the earth ; that of the maid, Styled Queen of Beauty, sprung from Ocean's bed, c The wedded of that swarthy man, cast down From heaven to earth, before the with'ring frown Of th' assembled conclave there to ponder o'er His lost condition on the Lemnian shore d Was not more beautiful, nor could it be More light when springing from its parent sea. A TALE OF THE DRUIDS- 5 4. Yet Earth was not her home for, oh ! her mind, However bright the casket that enshrined Its spotless purity, was still more bright, Itself a thing of living, breathing light Pure pure and beautiful like the pale snow That rests untouched upon the mountain's brow, Reflecting back, from its own spotless breast, A ray as spotless, holy, calm, and blest. The beauteous light, which Revelation brought In its first dawn, had burst upon her soul, A new-born life of faith and hope, which taught The peace that passeth knowledge, for it stole, With gentle sweetness, ev'ry thought away From earth and earthly things, and came as blest To her young soul as the first rising ray Of the bright morn, that brings a day of rest. Then, like some bird, swift darting on the wind, Each thought, each feeling of her sainted mind, G EANTHE : Casting behind the fear of lasting death, Shot high, and heavenward, in her Saviour's faith- Each thought, each feeling, still she could not dare The laugh, the scorn, the punishment, nor bear Contempt from all her race ; and she was glad To live one good, among the many bad, Her faith concealed her love shut in a heart From which nor love nor faith could e'er depart. 6. Athro, the youth, was of the ancient line Of Britons' kings, long worshipped as divine By those whose wisdom should have soared above Earth's low distinctions, and their fruitless love ; He was a noble youth, and while joy beamed Forth in each happy look, it only seemed To speak of more within ; as that pure light, Which shoots like meteors through the polar night, e Betrays the existence of those fires, that lie Concealed too deep to meet the gazer's eye. A TALE OF THE DRUIDS. 7 7- He had been taught each thing that man could teach, And mastered alL for all he sought to reach Came down within his grasp, and he had but, Like Jove's strong bird/ to soar away in light, Till heaven's own gate seemed scarcely to be shut Against the progress of his daring flight, Or unattainable from that pure height Which he had gained. Earth's wisdom was his own, And others deemed he knew as he was known. But that calm faith, whose rays had broke upon Eanthe's mind, and shed their wondrous light O'er this lost world, that now, for ages g gone, Had lain asleep in one long endless night, That faith which passeth knowledge, and which He, The ruler of all worlds, by his decree, That stands immoveable, hath said shall be 8 EANTHB : Taught to the humblepure in heart, and meek, But hidden from the proud, and such as seek Their ways not His, and dig among the store Of worldly rubbish, for immortal lore, Was all unknown to him, and he knew nought Of heaven, or God, or of a world to come, Save when some convert to that faith, unsought, Would speak of these, and then, 'twas but the hum Of idle drones that fell upon his ear, A sound he cared not for, nor wished to hear. A heaven of bliss an everlasting home Where sin could never dwell, nor sorrow come, Nor sighing be, nor death, nor woe, nor pain, Nor tears to dim its splendid light again He knew not, thought not, dream't not of, for he Believed not in a blest eternity. When his Eanthe spoke of it, he smiled, And kissed her cheek, and called her his own child, His credulous child, to deem it could be so. A TALE OF THE DRUIDS. 9 9. Yet these two loved, and sunned them in the glow Of youth and hope, till it were hard to say In which young heart love bore the stronger sway ; Save that in this, of all that Athro did, Of all he thought, Eanthe formed a part, While in her breast lay that she would have hid, Even from herself, that a divided heart Was all she could bestow ; for her new faith Had stolen a part ; yet could not steal it all. Not all Oh no ! for had the hand of death Been on her then, and, answering to his call, Her ransomed spirit been upon the wing From earth to heaven, a disembodied thing, It would have lingered here till she had said, " Athro, 1 love thee still, forget me not when dead." 10. She would have hid, and yet she could not hide, This from herself; but Athro would not chide 10 EANTHE: His own Eanthe, not to gain that love, He knew so well was fixed on heaven above. No, for he felt that now, as from her birth, All all was his she had to give to earth ; He sought no more, it was enough for him ; And though he deemed that, for a time, some dim And shadowy superstition clouded o'er A heart once all his own, he fancied it Would pass away like those light clouds which flit Across the summer sun, and, seen no more, Leave its pure disk more beauteous than before. 11. Oh ! it is ever thus, a spirit rent, A heart divided, and some time not spent In earthly joys, is all that we can give To Him, the Being who first bade us live, Who first created us, and gave us all We deem to be our own : the earth the sea The mountain's rapid rise the torrent's fall The growing shrub the stately spreading tree A TALE OF THE DRUIDS. 11 The sweet and glittering stream the blooming vale- Sunshine and calmthe tempest snow and hail The thunder's voice the lightning's vivid play The air we breathe the beauty of the day The planet's roll the darkness of the night The thousand stars, with all their wondrous light, That shines so sweetly, and that beams so kind, As if to soothe the tempest of the mind, And, in return, but asks so small a part From this lost world, as, " Son, give me thy heart." He is a mighty God, a jealous King, Who rules o'er all the world, and every thing That dwells therein, and He will not be mocked. And what do we give him ? Oh, be ye shocked, Ye frail dissemblers, who so oft deceive, Not your Creator, but yourselves, and leave Earth for a judgment-seat, with sin on sin All unrepented of, and that within 12 EANTHE: Your inmost breast would sink ten thousand down To hell, and all its woe. Oh ! fly his frown. And hear his voice, and listen to his call, " Give me thy heart, be mine,- and give it all." 12. The moon is on the hill, and sweet and bright Her new-born crescent sheds its silver light, And stars of beauty, and a sky of love, Like some pure azure mantle, interwove With golden spangles, smiling hangs above ; But ruddier lights, with less of mirth and glee, Are far reflected o'er yon slumbering sea ; Each blazing pire streams flick'ring far and wide O'er hill, and dale, and sands, and rocks, and tide. The startled sea-bird, darting from his nest, Soars high above, then plunging, dips his breast In that cold spotless element, that clings Its snowy foam, and white and trembling spray, As if in love, around a breast and wings As cold and trembling, yet more white than they. A TALE OF THE DRUIDS. ;3 The screaming vulture, scared from his repast, The mountain eagle from his rocky fast, Borne far away, high, high on wings of wind, Leaving all earth and these bright lights behind, Soar in their flight, with upturned neck and eye, Till lost amidst the blueness of the sky. 13. But what are they, those fires so pure and bright, Streaming on high, from hill and mountain's height, And headland steep, as if each drop that fell Warm from the breast of heaven's most haughty queen 11 Had left its own bright milky way, to dwell On earth with earthly things, and, falling, been Converted into flame that, scattered o'er Hill, mountain, headland, where no light before Had ever gleamed, still pointed far and high Its brightest blaze towards its own native sky ? c li EANTHE : 14. 'Tis Fastern's Eve' 1 and ere to-morrow's sun, Bright, bold, and beautiful, like some pure thing That walks th' expanded arch of heav'n, shall run One half his course of light, much must be done, The feast be o'er, and all its trophies won. And what are they and what this solemn feast? 'Tis that of oaks ; k first of the season, where, From high to low all ranks, and every priest, Arch-druid, bards, euhages, 1 and the fair Young druidesses, too, must come to aid A splendid scene though but for ruin made. Yet, even there, perchance, some breaking heart, That in the revelry can bear no part, May be to gaze ; for who that lives has been Amidst the many, witnessing a scene Of joy like this, and has not mark'd the throb Of some young breast, and heard the half- breath' d sob Escaping from its heart, as if, all past, That could bring joy, or hope, or life, the last A TALE OF THE DRUIDS. 15 And only wish that it could breathe, were now To twine a garland round the throbbing brow That shines above, and end a weary race, By quietly suff'ring in the victim's place ? 15. But hush ! hush, all is still the sleepy eyes, That wont to gaze with boldness on the skies That hang above, are veiled in their own light, And long dark lashes, like the shades of night, Are drooping o'er them, dull and listless now. Oh sleep! thoumimicdeath how calm the brow Whereon high looks of pride and scorn have sat, How still the cheek how veiled the glance whereat Youth, hope, and love have sprung, when thou art there How calm how still, how motionlessly fair, Save when the dreamer, while his fancy teems With bitter things, is wrapt in troubled dreams, And the pale cheek and livid brow assume A mimic life's most dark and hopeless gloom. 16 EANTHE: 16. The morn is up, and fair and bright The sun, without a cloud, Is walking forth in his own light, Like beauty in a shroud Of pearly lace, that half conceals, And yet, concealing, all reveals What it is meant to hide ; And calm, and fair, and beautiful, Light mists sleep on the tide. But one secluded spot, made for those rites that shun The light of day, is near its deepen'd shade By thickly interwoven branches made ; Its dark impenetrable gloom no sun Nor eye can pierce, and in its deep And inmost centre the glad banquet spread, Invites the joyous multitude to keep This feast of oaks. The milk-white victims, led m By golden cords, are bound beneath the tree, Whose bent and gnarled branch is doomed to be A TALE OF THE DRUIDS. . Vi A canopy of death the gazing crowd, In garments pure and spotless as the shroud That wins departed heauty, stands around, Dreaming in fancy that each throbbing heart, Called in this sacrifice to bear a part, Would, in the sight of Him their God be found As pure as spotless and as free from blight As those fair garments of unsullied white. 17. But she the pure in heart the only pure And sinless one of all, who could endure Much for her faith, had that young faith, so fair In her fond eyes, sought this she was not there. What stays the sacrifice ? no maiden's hand Could bind the fetters, or unite the band Around yon victim's horns, or draw its head Close to its noble stake yon gnarled oak, Where many a victim underneath the stroke Of man relentless, long ere now hath bled. What stays the sacrifice ? He raised his head 18 EANTHE: That stern arch-druid proudly raised, and said, " Where is Eanthe, our young priestess, now ?" " Where is our priestess ?" echoed from the crowd, In voices half suppress'd and low not loud - But slow and solemn, like some whisper'd vow. 18. See, where she comes the beautiful the bright The innocent young one pure as the light Of day, when first its young lord springs Forth on his chariot-wheels, and scatt'ring flings New beauties round. She was a light in truth j A very light to that dark spot ; her youth And maiden sweetness, like the living sun, Still glad'ning all she paused to look upon. " Still glad'ning all" still making each heart glad Yet she alone of all the many sad, Trembling and pale, as if some inward strife, Of varying thoughts within the seat of life, Were waging war more like the victim brought A TALE OF THE DRUIDS. ]9 To grace the sacrifice in death, than aught That lived or moved, a happy reckless thing, With heart more light than young bird on the wing. 19. And where was he who lov'd ? had he too gone From his Eanthe, and must she abide That stern old druid's searching look alone ? Oh, now, she felt, with Athro by her side, She could have dared the worst tho' it might be That it should bring discovery of her faith, And tear her far from him from him whom she Had lov'd so well, and thus would love in death. No he was there ! Young Athro stood beside The sacred oak, and, with affection's eye, Watched every look of his fair affianced bride The stolen glance that, toward the dark blue sky, Was upward turn'd, so full of hope, and then Cast down in fear to this cold world again, As if that glance, so short, might still betray The hope she rested on to light and day 20 EANTHE : The trembling limbs, -the white, the marble brow, The cheek, now warm and flushed with thought and now As cold as death that seemed to tell the strife Within would cease but with departing life. He saw it all and had each hope of bliss That fancy's dream had ever pictured his Each joy that earth could give nay, even more, The fond assurance that, when life was o'er, And trials done, he, as his own faith told, Would dwell in that pure place of shining gold, n That glorious world, where none could enter in But unpolluted souls, freed from the sin Of earth and earthly thoughts been all at stake, He would have bartered all all for the sake Of whisp'ring but one soothing word that he Was still her own, whate'er her fate might be. 20. One step he made, but caught the stern cold eye Of that old druid fixed on him with high A TALE OF THE DRUIDS. 21 And haughty look ; yet that he heeded not, But, moving slowly forward from the spot Whereon he stood, he fixed a look upon The stern old man as haughty as his own : Another and Eanthe's fond alarms Would all have vanish' d in her Athro's arms He would have clasp'd her to his heart, and spoke Those whisper'd words of love that never broke On other ears than hers ; yes, even there, In that high presence, and before that priest That bold, stern man, and all those met to bear Their parts of honour in the sacred feast. 21. Oh love ! young, beautiful, and new-born love Youngest, yet strongest of the gods above Offspring of Beauty, who, without thy aid, Confest herself the shadow of a shade, Devoid of strength and power, p how great thou art, How strong thy empire o'er the human heart ! 22 EANTHE : Pride yields to thee, ambition flies away. Like some dark thing before the light of day. Wealth, wisdom, i honours, riches, glory, all Shrink from their station timidly, and fall An easy prey, when thy pure torch is giv'n, To light the heart where they have revelled long In reckless mirth, as if no thought of heaven Or thee could drive them from a hold so strong. 22. But hark ! what sounds are these that float from earth, And, heavenward borne, seem heavenly in their birth, Again ascending to their native sphere, As if they could no longer linger here, So sweet, so pure, and so combined in one ? Hush ! all is still, they tell the feast begun, The feast of oaks, and Athro to the spot Whereon he stood was fix'd, for, had he gone But one step farther, his dishonoured lot A TALE OF THE DRUIDS. 23 Had been far worse than death. Oh death alone He could have borne, but not from the high place That once was his, to be cast in disgrace. Yet such disgrace, such only could have been His given fate, had he disturb' d this scene, With what they deemed a burst of earthly love, Though it was pure, yea, pure as heaven above. And thus dishonoured, thus thrust out from men, Could his Eanthe think of him again ? No, for her sake he could have borne to die, But not dishonoured from her sight to fly, To lose her love, and to be look'd upon All coldly then, as if he scarce were known. And would she thus have look'd ? He little knows A woman's heart, who, when the wild wind blows, Deems it will change. No ; storms may rise, And grief may dim, and sorrow cloud her skies, And hopeless hours, and sunless days come on, 24 EANTHE : And years where all that spoke of bliss is gone, And dark despair the gloomy future fill, But, loving once, she loves thro' good and ill. 23. How beautiful and sweet those strains that fill The air around, where all is now as still And calm, as if each being of that crowd Were but a statue, wrapt in death's pale shroud, And not a thing of light and life, to move, And breathe, and live, and speak, and hate and love. The soft voluptuous swell, the dying fall Of those sweet tones, spoke to the hearts of all. Oh if there be one thing on earth to fear, When breathing lips and blushing cheeks are near, And downcast eyes, and trembling limbs, ar- rayed In all the loveliness that earth has made, And secret sin, with sharp, but hidden dart, Seeks to assail the unsuspecting heart, A TALE OF THE DRUIDS. 25 And win its way within, 'tis strains like those, That fall as sweet as summer evening's close ; Soft, soft they come, with their Elysian sound, Stealing along, till every sense is drown'd In sweet ohlivion, and the melting heart Yields all to that, from which it cannot part, And only wakes, if it should wake at all, To know how lost it is how deep its fall. 24. But hush ! one lonely footstep falls upon The listening ear, and breaks the silence now. See the pale sandaled priest slow gliding on, With downcast eyes and deeply thoughtful brow, In garments spotless as untrodden snow, Armed with the golden knife, approaches near The knotted oak, clothed with that plant so dear, And sacred to their race. Sedate and slow He climbs its gnarled trunk, and, standing there, Gives praise to Him, their god, for promise fair Of glorious harvest from that sacred tree. Still is the crowd, and grave the priest, while he 26 EANTHE : Thrusts in the sickle, and proceeds to reap The more than valued plant. 1 Rolled in a heap, Untouch'd by human hand, s or aught to blight Its living beauty, it falls slowly down Into the ample folds of the pure, white, And spotless sagum, stretch' d beneath the brown And gnarled trunk. Oh what a splendid glow, Like the last gleam of sunshine on the snow, Came o'er that young priest's faded cheek, when first The loud hurrah forth from the many burst, And told the deed was done 'twas bright to view But, like that gleam, 'twas evanescent too. 25. The priest descends the milk-white bulls are slain, Their hearts' best blood is sprinkled o'er the plain ; And even there, close by a scene full sad A TALE OF THE DRUIDS. 27 To feeling hearts, the reckless high priest hade The festal rites begin ; the woods around Replied in strains, as joyous, to the sound Of mirth and glee, that echoed far and wide, From clouded hills to where the silver tide Swept round their base. Gay, joyous groups of youth, In whose bright glances all the light of truth Seem'd blazing forth, warm manhood in its prime, And stern cold age, bent by the hand of time, Were all assembled there, all joyful as The summer morn, ere yet the noontide has Brought heat, and clouds, and weariness, and toil, The laughing beauty of its dawn to spoil. 26. But mirth, all innocent, alas ! too soon Gave place to revelry, and, ere the noon Of midnight came, to riot ; then the cheek Was Hushed and high the brow the temples pale 28 EANTHE: The red wine cup was drain' d and woman's shriek Of laughter wild was heard upon the gale, With man's deep voice, as in lascivious round Cheek pressed to cheek, and lip to lip, they wound Through all the mazy dance, with loosened hair, And naked breasts, andshoulders bosom bare ; And slender arms in stronger arms entwin'd, And panting limbs on panting limbs reclin'd, And young fair forms on manhood's glowing breast, With burning sighs, half fainting, sunk to rest. But let the veil be dropped, and darkness shroud, Within its deep impenetrable cloud, Foul deeds like these, till ev'n their very name Shall be forgotten, or but link'd with shame, For not those orgies of the days of old/ At whose bare name the shudd'ring heart grows cold, Where nought that could of lewd debauchery boast, Or sin or wickedness was ever lost, A TALE OF THE DRUIDS. 59 Out-did, in wild intemperance, those feasts, Led, ruled, encouraged, by religion's priests. 27- Alas ! ye virgins," in whose youthful eyes, Such rites were things to mourn o'er and de- spise, How hard a fate was yours ! 1 Despising night And superstition's reign, and all it cast Of darkness o'er your land, ye were at last Changed into things that ever shun the light, And, wishing death, to endless life condemned, To life, that witnessed all ye most contemned. Oh ! to the sinless pure, what doom can be More dreadful than this endless guilt to see- In utter, hopeless helplessness to dwell, The heart in heaven, and yet beholding hell ; Dead, yet alive, -it is to live in pain, That life would fly, but seeks to fly in vain, While cold triumphant death looks calmly on The struggling suff'rer, who would fain begone, 30 EANTHE : He cares not where but only from that bed That endless dying, a^d yet never dead. 28. And was Eanthe there ? No, she had gone Unnoticed from the scene ; and now, alone- Alone and fearless in a distant spot She mourned, in bitterness of heart, her lot. The pale moon smil'd the soft, the sighing breeze, Wandered full gently through the leafy trees, Scarce rippling o'er the surface of the stream, That flow'd so calm so still beneath its beam. The waveless tide lay slumb'ring too at rest, And all was still all, save Eanthe's breast, For winds may die, and storms and tempests cease, And yet not leave the troubled sea at peace ; A trembling swell, a restless heaving seen, Mark but too well where passing storms have been. A TALE OF THE DRUIDS. SI 29. And could not this an hour so still and blest, So calm and holy, to Eanthe's breast Its broken peace restore ? No, but from heaven That gift could come that blessed aid be given And, kneeling there, low on the ground, she bowed Her pale wan cheek and ivory forehead to The flowerets breathing round, while tear-drops flowed Quick quick on them, and, mingling with the dew That hung upon their leaves, shone pure and bright Each like a sparkling gem of living light. Oh there is beauty in a single tear Of penitence thus shed, but far more dear To heaven the thought that utterance finds in prayer ; Prayer like Eanthe's who, thus kneeling, prayed In singleness of heart, to Him who made This world and her that He would pardon all 32 EANTHE : Her unknown sins, and free her from the thrall Of bondage cast around. Oh, it is sweet To see the guiltless in a lone retreat, Far from the haunts of men, thus humbled, meek, And low of heart, steal from the crowd to seek A mighty God ; a God whose chariots roll Forth in their majesty, from pole to pole ; Who stills the storm, and bids the tempest cease, And tells the raging waves to be at peace ; Who bids the thunders roll, at whose command Earth shakes, and in the hollow of whose hand The waste of waters dwell j yet who hath said To each of us, the creatures he hath made, That where true worshippers have their abode, There also will He be a gracious God. 30. The pale moon smiled upon the maiden's form, As on some kindred spirit of its own, Kneeling alone, when every vexing storm, That raged on earth, was distant far, and gone, And all was peace, and not a single tone A TALE OF THE DRUIDS. 33 Disturbed the stillness, not a sound was heard, Save her low whispered prayer's ascending word. But, hark ! a heavier tread is near, a dear And well-known step, " Is Athro here ?" The cheek, that was so pale but now, Is crimsoned with a sudden glow, That came so quick, and went so fast, Ye scarce could notice when it past. The light cloud on the mountain's side, Its shadow on the silv'ry tide, The restless sea-bird on the wing, The swiftest and most fleeting thing That comes and goes in the short-liv'd space Of a moment's thought, and leaves no trace Behind to tell where it hath been, Is not so passing, and may be seen For a longer space than that blush upon Eanthe's cheek ; 'twas there, 'twas gone, Like some bright star from the Armament cast To the earth below, so quick it past. But the calm, quiet smile of her tearful eye, Like the gleams of light that come stealing thro' 34 EANTHE: The shadowy mist of a wat'ry sky, Dispelling the clouds that would shade its blue, Remained to tell, what the blush that was gone Could never have told, that to look upon Her Athro there, and to know him near, Was the' wish, the hope, to her heart most dear. This this is the beauty of trusting love, When the heart, in its fondness, can repose On a being on earth, as on one above, And, in its confiding purity, knows That the heart it loves to rest upon, Beats with a faith as true as its own. Had the innocent one known earth's alarms, They would all have been hush'd in her Athro's arms. 31. " Nay, my Eanthe, wherefore shed a tear On such a night as this ? Sure aught of fear Cannot approach thy heart, when ev'ry rite Performed to* day should put such fear to flight ? A TALE OF THE DRUIDS. 35 All fear to flight, and fill that heart of thine With fond assurance of an aid divine." 32. The trembling reed that slightly shakes beneath The passing wind, and bends before its breath. Soon rears its head again ; so, for a space, Eanthe smiled, but smiling soon gave place To thoughts more serious, and the maiden stood, Firm in her innocence, and resting on Her new-born faith, that, like a flood Of light, dispelling darkness, came and shone In all its brightness there. Oh could she now But bring her Athro to believe on Him Who died for all ; but see that open brow, Dispelling those thick clouds, so dark and dim, That hung around, shine forth in holy faith, That were a triumph worthy even death. 33. " Athro," she whispered, " higher aid is mine. Nay, frown not, dearest, would that aid were thine, 3G EANTHE : Would that, like me, my Athro, thou could'st rest Thy future hopes on heav'n, then very blest, Oh ! blest indeed, dear Athro, we should be. What is the love that ends with parting life, That lives but in a world of sin and strife ? Oh, less than nothing ! Can it be to thee Aught to be prized ? Oh no, that love alone Is perfect, which, begun below, Grows sweeter tow'rds its close, when gazing on That splendid world whose never-fading glow Sheds light and beauty o'er its earthly death, For then oh then, it only yields its breath To spring to life in that pure heav'n above, Where nothing comes but faith, and peace, and love." 34. " Stay, fond enthusiast," Athro smiling said, And clasped still closer to his breast the maid, " I know the Holy One who formed the earth, And heav'n above/ and to created birth Gave life and being, gave it not that they Should, like some viewless nothing, melt away. A TALE OF THE DRUIDS. 37 No, my Eanthe, lov'd one, there is still Another world I know it where no ill Can ever reach, a place of glorious rest, In whose bright halls of gold, w all safe and blest, Departed warriors dwell. There, my own love, Or if not there, at least in one of those Bright countless worlds of light x that hang above In all unbounded space, and, dazzling, move Their trackless beauty thro' th' etherial air, We two shall meet again. Yes, even there, When time is past, its woes and troubles o'er, And sorrow gone, we'll meet to part no more. Oh blessed thought, that were a world of bliss ! Can yours, Eanthe, boast of aught like this ?" 35. " No, not like that ; it boasts not aught that can Give sensual bliss to mere created man : Mine is a heav'n indeed ; there none Who follow sin can come, the good alone, And pure in heart, can ever enter there. Dear Athro, all thy palaces so fair, 38 EANTHE : And bright, and beautiful, thy worlds of light That hang above, so many sparkling gems, Dazzling the darkness of the stilly night, As fit to crown a thousand diadems, Are but as dreams, creations of the brain : Lean on them, Athro, and thy trust is vain. There is no place of rest to mortals giv'n, But one above, and, Athro, that is Heaven. '* Oh ! had'st thou seen the venerable man/ With his grey hairs, so pale ere he began To talk of God and heav'n, and watch'd the flush That o'er his cheek, like morn's first dawning blush, So gently stole, the lightning of his eye That glanc'd like sunbeams from their native sky, His looks of hope and love, the angel glow Of more than light, that rested on his brow, And heard his words of promise, as he told Of his bright heav'n, compared to which, all gold And precious stones are dross, ye would have given Your own Eanthe to have gained this heav'n. A TALE OF THE DRUIDS. 39 Oh blessed place, where death's cold reign is o'er, And evil cannot come, nor sorrow enter more, And scorching heats and bitter colds are gone, And midnight dews, with their damp chill, un- known, Where God, the Lord, shall lead his people thro' Glad scenes of bliss, unseen to mortal view, And wipe the last bright shining tear away From weeping eyes, that henceforth, pure as day, Shall smile in love, and smiling, never know A look of sorrow, nor a glance of woe." 36. The maiden paused ; there are some thoughts too deep For words to utter, and she gently raised Her clasped hands on high, and sought to keep Her thoughtson heav'n, while inwardly she prais'd The goodness of her God. No falling tear Dropt from her eyes, now beautiful and clear As some bright gem that sheds its lustre through The darkness of the night ; their softened blue 40 EANTHE: Was turned to heav'n, where it could only meet A kindred colour ; and angels, looking down From their high place on her, look'd down to greet A sister spirit kindred to their own. Oh what a sweet and blessed hope is that Pure faith bestows on all, pure faith, and what A recompense of love it meets from Him, Without whose presence all on earth is dim, And dark, and dull, as if the only light That had created day, and gave it birLh, Were now extinguished in an endless night, And shut for ever from this ruined earth. 37. " Fond one, thou paintest well, and could it be That there was aught of truth in this new faith Of thine, Eanthe, thy eternity Would be most beauteous, and the hour of death Most blest indeed. Oh yes, that heav'n is bright Where spirits dwell, and uncreated light Alone shines forth, so beautiful, that I Could wish for wings to flee away on high, A TALE OF THE DRUIDS. 41 And be with thee, fond dreamer, always there. Nay, -chide not, love, it is so passing fair, That, in the words which thy old man hath said, The eastern king, Agrippa, used, when made To know the prophets, I could say to thee, That rt almost thou persuadest me to be A Christian." But there cannot be, fond one, A heav'n like this, or if, indeed, there were, Save such as thee, where, since the world began, Could those of heart so pure, or mind so fair, Be found to dwell, as blest sojourners, there. Oh not, Eanthe, not for such as me, Could aught so bright, or beauteous, destined be." 38. " And with the words the meek old man re- plied So mildly to the king, dear Athro, I Could answer thee." The maiden softly sighed, And raised her bright blue eyes to heaven ou high, 42 EANTHE : Then dropt them to the earth " Oh ! would that thou, And all who hear the word, would humbly bow Down to this blessed faith." Thou canst not say, That, when the pure sun rises, and the day Breaks forth, there is no light ! Oh, no ! for that Would be most vain indeed ; then, Athro, what Canst thou now say against that faith, whose light, From its own high source springing, shineth o'er Whole slumb'ring worlds, with a ray so bright, That death and sin are lost for evermore ? Is there no sun from whence a ray like this, So bright so pure must emanate ? Oh ! bliss To know there is to know, that when this dust To dust returns, the rock wherein we trust Shall not remove. Athro, it cannet be, That this pure faith, whose ev'ry lesson fraught With heav'nly wisdom, teacheth men to be So godlike in their minds, and in which He, Its sinless Author, walked as he had taught, Should e'er deceive. No no He laboured on Throughout a suffering life, and bore the scorn A TALE OF THE DRUIDS. 43 Of wicked, evil men, who gazed upon His sufferings and reviled. Oh ! the sharp thorn, That pierced his bleeding brow, felt not so keen Or sharp as this cold scorn,- yet he was seen To pray for them, and earnestly to pray " Father, forgive they know not what they say." Mild spotless sinless in himself, his life Was one of suffering, and marked by strife, And grief and woe, till He resigned the load, When all was finished, to his Father God. 39. " And where was this ? Upon the accursed tree He bowed his head and died, that we might be Redeemed from sin and death ; there he re- signed His blameless life from love to human kind. Can faith that leads to this be false or vain ? Oh, no ! All born of sorrow and of pain Is ever true 'tis but the meteor gleams Of earthly joy, whose bright but passing beams 44 EANTHE : Shine for a season, that are false indeed- False for who trusts to them leans on a reed That withers in the gale, and, tempest tost, He wakes to know, too late, that all is lost. But unto those who trust in heav'n ahove, This cannot be.- A legacy of love Was left them by their Saviour when the grave Gave up its dead" It is my will to save Those who believe'' Oh ! then, do thou believe, For He that cannot lie will not deceive Who place their trust in him. He speaks to all, To worlds, not one to those who hear his call " Come ye that labour come, and I shall give Sweet rest to you Oh I come to me and live." Then fly from sin, and be assured that He Will not forsake or cast out such as thee. He hath no pleasure in the sinner's death, But rather that he turn from sin to faith, And live with Him for his affecting cry Is still the same" Oh ! turn why will ye die?" A TALE OF THE DRUIDS. 45 40. " It is most true, the pure in heart shall see Their God Jehovah and at last where He For ever reigns, shall live and true, that all Who hear his voice, and listen to his call, May be thus pure in heart for he sent down His own dear Son to call lost sinners to Repentance here, that they who in his frown Had withered long, and who had nought to do With heav'n or Him, might, by his Spirit shed O'er hearts like theirs, receive a life to them, Bright, bright as that to one who from the dead Should rise to be crown'd with a kingly gem. Oh ! then believe, Athro, I know thou wilt : Come, dearest, to that fount where sinners' guilt Is washed away, and made, though it should be More red than crimson, white as drifted snow. Come, dearest, come, and think, oh ! think what He Hath promised, in his grace, that those who go Shall live and reign for ever, where no night Can ever be, and, clothed in robes of white, 46 EANTHE : With palms in either hand, shall with the Lamb, The bright, the everlasting, pure " I Am," Who sits and reigns, the light of life alone Dwell, and for ever, on a golden throne." 41. " The Lord of Glory condescends to hold Bright promises like these, more pure than gold Thrice tried in fire, forth to lost wand'rers here. Oh ! think then, Athro, think how very dear Thy soul to Him and will not He who came To give new life to all, free thee from blame- He, rich in grace, who turned his guiltless head, Pale, to the lost one on the cross, and said : " Thy sins be all forgiven thou shalt be This very night in Paradise with me." Turn turn then, Athro, turn without delay, Nor, unexamined, cast this faith away ; It may be true, and if it should be so, Think deeply and reflect what thou dost throw Away from thee ; be not like him who sold, For earth's enjoyment, that high prized birthright, A TALE OF THE DRUIDS. 47 Which he thereafter would have given gold, And power and riches, earthly rule and might, To purchase back again, but all too late, For his own hand had sealed his wayward fate." 42. Oh ! words from lips we love, the words of truth Spoke with the zeal the fervency of youth, Have weight we dream not of. Ev'n Athro gazed On that flushed cheek, and those bright eyes upraised To heav'n as to their home, until she seemed More like a beauteous being to be dreamed About than seen. He gazed on her, and smiled, But not in scorn, for his Eanthe's mild And simple language touched him, and he felt Half yielding, half convinced. He bowed, he knelt Close by her on the ground, and raised his eyes As if to find in those blue dazzling skies 48 EANTHE : That hung above, the heav'n she had described, So fair, so beautiful so like a dream Of some bright fancied hope. Oh ! this was sweet, But passed as swiftly as the gleams we meet In midnight's hour, that are, but what they seem, Too beautiful to last. The wand'ring beam Of the pale moon shone on him ; and again He smiled, but this time at himself- how vain Th' attempt, he deemed, to alter his firm faith ; To alter it ? he fancied even death Could ne'er effect this change, and yet he lov'd Eanthe far too well not to be mov'd By her kind words. The arrow had been sent Forth at a venture, but with strength unspent Had reached its aim, although the wounded deer, In the high splendour of his wild career, Scarce knew it rankled there. His fear was now For her alone ; the new-born faith the broken vow Of his Eanthe all might be betrayed To their old priest, and she stand forth denounced A TALE OF THE DRUIDS. 49 To one to all an erring Christian maid. Oh ! could he bear to hear her doom pronounced ? No, no he could not could not see that form Sink down beneath the terror of the storm, A wither'd leaf a fair but blighted gem, Struck, as it were, from some bright diadem. High hopes were his high smiling hopes, and he Look'd forward, sure, that long ere this could be, His own Eanthe from her fancied faith Would yet be weaned, nor follow it to death. 43. He watched her pallid cheek, " How pale thou art, How deadly pale, thou lov'd one of my heart ! These trembling limbs can scarce support a frame That, shadowy like, is fading fast away. Oh ! can it be that faith, which boasts a name So beautiful as thine, can bring decay And ruin such as this ? It cannot be, My fond Eanthe. No ! Think'st thou that He, F 50 EANTHE : Who made a heav'n so bright, would ever form The way to it through sorrow, clouds, and storm? The path that leads to mansions such as thine, If such there were, would be all pure- divine- No cloud to dim its beauty, nought to throw A shadow o'er its way and they who go In such a path, with such an end in view, Would journey on in peace, and gladness too No sorrowing tear to dim the glancing eye- No thought to pale the cheek, nor yet a sigh To pain the heart, or throb to break its rest For all would be most holy, calm, and blest. But thy wan cheeks are pale, and thy soft eyes Are full of troubled thought, deep heavy sighs Escape thy lab'ring breast. Oh can a faith That speaks of life, but looks so like to death, That tells of flowers that cannot die away, But looks so like to pale and wan decay, That talks of beauty and of lasting bliss, But brings a sorrow, cold and sad as this, Lead on to joy ? I cannot see thee thus, Eanthe, 'love, and be so credulous ! A TALE OF THE DRUIDS. 51 No, thou wilt leave this faith, this erring faith Nay, smile not, dear, or, if not leave, at least Conceal it now. Oh think, Eanthe, death, Cold death, would be thy fate, if that stern priest Should even dream the fav'rite of his race In her pure breast had yielded it a place. Then hide it there, and save thyself for mine, Eanthe, for my sake, if not for thine, And tho' that heart, whose ev'ry thought is pure As innocence itself, should still remain Fixed on that faith it will not yet abjure, Let not this prayer be made to thee in vain." 44. " Nought ask'd by thee, dear Athro, can be vain, And all thou askest now, is aided by Those earthly thoughts and wishes that remain Still ling'ring in my breast. I cannot die, Oh, that I could, and show how well this faith Can brave the terrors of the grave and death. 52 EANTHE : But this weak heart still clings too much to earth, As loath to quit the mansion of its birth, And dreads to suffer ev'n one throb of pain For Him who suffered all and not in vain That it might be restored to life again. But deem not thou, because this erring heart Clings to the earth, from which it cannot part, As it would wish to do, that there is nought Of beauty in salvation, thus outwrought. If there be wrong, believe it is in me, Not in my faith, nor deem that it can be Untrue, or yet to blame, because one to Whom it is preached should be herself untrue. Oh ! the worst pang I know is that this dust Fears for itself, and cannot place its trust Where it alone should rest. Lord, when will this Sad struggle end ? Oh when wilt thou receive Thine erring creature to thy home of bliss, Where nothing is that ever can deceive ? Oh pardon, Lord, the vain, the fond deceit, That guides away from thee my wand'ring feet , A TALE OF THE DRUIDS. 53 And leads this weak and trembling frame to bear A part in which its heart can have no share. Let it be fixed on thee, Lord, guide the will, And with pure thoughts of heav'n my bosom fill, That wheresoe'er this fading form may be, Its fadeless spirit, at least, may dwell with Thee." 45. The grey light of the morning dawned, and shone, In its pale beauty, silently upon These two; they stood, in sorrow both, the cheek Of one was wet, but ye might seek in vain For aught like tears upon the placid, meek, Quiet count'nance of the maid, there was no stain Of earthly sorrow there ; and if ye ask 1 Why this should be ?' to tell would be a task Most difficult. I could not say, nor could I e'er divine why stern man's proud cheek should 54 EANTHE : Sometimes be wet with tears, and woman's dry. It long has been a mystery, that I Could not explain, unless indeed it be, That there is something more than we can see Of passive firmness, in a woman's mind, Than in the breast of sterner man enshrined. A TALE OF THE DRUIDS. 55