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THE 
 
 HUMAN INHERITANCE, ' 
 
 THE NEW HOPE, 
 
 MOTHERHOOD. 
 
 ^v i-^D 
 
 jr. 
 
 4 
 
 BY 
 
 WILLIAM SHARP. 
 
 ^tri^u^u Zi ^^C.<^ ^^^:i^:^^£^ ^-tJ^^^^Z^^^^cW . ''" 
 
 LONDON : 
 ELLIOT STOCK, 62, PATERNOSTER ROW. 
 
 1882. 
 
3?)edicated 
 
 IN 
 LOVE AND UPLOOKING 
 
 TO MY FRIEND 
 
 JOHN.ALEX.^ELDER. 
 
 SINCE THE ABOVE WAS WRITTEN HE TO WHOM IT WAS ADDRESSED 
 
 DIED SUDDENLY IN HIS •«•• 
 
 HMfc YEAR. BUT I LET IT STAND AS 
 
 IT IS. A TRUER FRIEND AND NOBLER SPIRIT NO MAN COULD KNOW. 
 
i 
 
 To. E. A. S. 
 
 J^ As into some waste space in a dark sky 
 
 A new star swims serene, and calm, and bright, 
 A never-fading steadfast lam,p set high 
 To fill with its im.maculate far light 
 The lonely darkness of the lonely night — 
 
 So swam, upon my dark the star of love. 
 Before, afar off only had I seen 
 
 Like planets in a distant heaven move : 
 But when this rebirth of my sotil had been. 
 It was as tho' Life drew aside her screen ; 
 
 The music of the great seas deeper grew, 
 
 A larger message fir d each echoing shore, 
 The swaying forests had a meaning new, 
 
 ^ And the sweet songs of birds so loved of yore 
 Were sweeter still, and with a lovelier lore. 
 
 f 
 
 1 
 
 Life, that once lay like some mere narrow sea 
 Between fair promontories and shining sands ^ 
 
 Thence stretched an ocean vast and great and free : 
 Love was the arc that rose i?t shining bands 
 And join'' d the near with far imagifi'd lands 
 
 G) 
 
t 
 
 1 
 
 vVl 
 
 Thou hast been as the light unto mine eyes, 
 As music in the strange revolving days : 
 
 Around us is the glory that ne'er dies — 
 The glory of the sun's awakening blaze, 
 The s;plendour of the moon in cloud-girt ways — 
 
 These die not, but they ever bloom and fade ; % 
 
 The beauty of thy soul is still the same : 
 A glory for the ceons they were m.ade ; 
 
 For all eternity thy spirit came 
 
 Straight from thy God in an enduring flame . 
 
 O best belov'd, — too dear for faltering words 
 To tell thee truly — would that I could sing 
 
 With the unconscious ra;pture of the birds 
 That, fnated, ev'ry morn till noontide fling 
 Their overflowing m-usic thro' the fpring : 
 
 Or that with dee;p and solemn measured speech 
 
 Such as the ocean in a windless night 
 Moans incofnmunicably to the beach '•^ 
 
 , That dumbly listens thro' the moon-glare white, ^ 
 
 My words could track thy soul's still tender height. 
 
 Thou art my m.oon, and I thy tide to roll 
 Thro' storm and tempest as thro' winds that sleep (/^ / 
 
 Thy love my pilot is, — I fear no shoal 
 ' \/ Or perilous straits that hidden dangers keep, 
 
 Since thou art with m.e on th)s^ troubled deep. ^^ii 
 

 CONTENTS. 
 
 i The Vuman \nherit ance — 
 
 Cycle I.— childhood's inheritance 3^^ 
 
 Cycle II. — youth's inheritance 14^ 
 
 Cycle III. — manhood xnd womanhood's inheritance . 50*^ 
 
 / Cycle IV. — old kq;^/^ inheritance 69/^ 
 
 / The Vew ^qp e . y^. . 83*^ 
 
 Motherhoo d ^yf \\v/^ 
 
 y___ Transcripts from \atu re /jf /TiJS \ 135/^ 
 
 fj T'he Xides ^f''N^ice . . \. . . / 150^ 
 
 /'^ A |?IALOGUE 159/^ , 
 
 ^/ Desolation i6a/^ 
 
 Christmas-eve . . . . / 164^ 
 
 Life D^ 
 
 Sight .... •>'''^^/ •• • . . . 167^ 
 
 Young /o^f><'^ • • / i6S«^ 
 
 Dreamland . . . ./ i7»^ 
 
 a greeting . . , j . ^^ i73<^ 
 
 Revelation ^^ 174^ 
 
 Possibilities .... "^^ i75*^ 
 
 Pain -^ i76«^ 
 
 Ben-a-chaolais .... ^^ ^17^ 
 
 Spring-wind . . . . % . ^^ 178^ 
 
 To the Apirit called Iaudanum ^^ 179^ 
 
 Lines,. ......' i8o«^ 
 
 The Redeemer iSa^* 
 
 Last wIdrds 184'* 
 
' I will make the poems of materials, for I think they are to be 
 
 the most spiritual poems ; — 
 
 And I will make the poems of the ^iitUl^ii^ body and of // 
 
 mortality, — 
 
 For I think I shall then supply myself with the poems ouilfel^ ,^R^ 
 
 soul, and of immortality." / / ^ 
 
 Walt. Whitman, Chants Democratic, 
 " Starting from Pa\amanok." 
 
 
THE HUMAN INHERITANCE. 
 
/ 
 
 Visions of life these are/ wherein are seen 
 Types of the human, rounded differently 
 By age and clime and diverse circumstance i 
 
 Childhood, when the child is as a flower 
 Of wilding growth, and when it is at one 
 With nature, fellow with the winds and birds. 
 
 Youth, when adventure is the salt of life, 
 And all the passions hot, and when the years 
 Seem weary if not shifting with swift change. 
 
 Manhood and Womanhood, together twined 
 In spirit, and with equal upward gaze : 
 Moving with love through toil-ennobled years, 
 And ever reaching unto higher things. 
 
 And Old Age, — work and toil being past : and soft 
 The memories of sorrows : with the hope 
 That, after one dark hour, youth comes again ! 
 
 Types of inheritors of that high life 
 
 Which is of all the possible heritage ; 
 
 Types none the less tho'' few there are who reach 
 
 The half-guessed affluence of their periods. 
 
CYCLE L 
 
 "CHILDHOOD'S INHERITANCE, 
 I. 
 
 EN E ATM the blue vault of a summer sky, 
 Where little clouds with white wings 
 strove to fly 
 
 Far from the burning noon, leagues long there lay 
 Wide heather moors that stretched till far away 
 Northward faint hills arose and southward rolled 
 The ocean gleaming with sun-litten gold. 
 
 II, 
 
 And 'mid a great swell of the purple waste 
 
 Close to the sea, a rock, which no hand placed 
 
 Thus lonely and afar but which was hurled 
 
 A meteor from some ruin'd starry world^ 
 
 Rose dark and frowning, with its hoar sides scarred 
 
 By winter t-empests and the fiercely hard 
 
4 Childhood's' Inheritance. 
 
 Gripe of the death-frosts that from northland heights 
 Steal silent through grim January nights, 
 And traced with furrows by the many tears 
 Of rainy autumns' thro unnumber'd years. 
 
 III. 
 
 The purple moorland waste alone stretched wide 
 Beneath the sun — no thing was seen beside 
 To break the long still sweep that met the sky, 
 No mounds of rocks confusedly piled high, 
 No single tree with clear boughs limned in black 
 Against the blue, no white and dusty track, 
 But only miles and miles and miles that swept 
 Purple to where the leagueless waters leapt. 
 The old rock stood forth like an ancient throne 
 Great tho' forgotten, where the winds alone 
 Paid homage, fair in the shunsine of the day. 
 Solemn by night with phosphorescent grey. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Around, the honey-laden bees humm'd loud 
 With summer gladness ; in a mazy cloud 
 Whirling the grey gnats rose and wheeled and sputi 
 Swift golden motes within the golden sun ; 
 
Childhood's Inheritance. 5 
 
 And bright with all their royal emblazonries 
 
 Flashed like swift darts of fire great dragonflies. 
 
 Away across the glowing moors there rang 
 
 The lapwing's wild complaint, and far off sang 
 
 Hidden in blue a small rejoicing lark 
 
 Singing against some unseen yearn'd for mark : 
 
 About the heath the yellowhammer's cry 
 
 Piped sweet and clear, and often suddenly, 
 
 With joyous chirps and jerks, the stonechat flew 
 
 From spray to spray, and, darting flame-like through 
 
 The scented heather spires to where beneath 
 
 The ants had silent kingdoms in the heath, 
 
 The green-grey black-eyed lizard flashing shot 
 
 So swift the hawk on poised wings saw it not. 
 
 V. 
 
 O'er all the deep skies arch'd, a wondrous space 
 
 Of ardent azure while the sun had place, 
 
 That changed to dark deep depths when twilight grey 
 
 Dreamt into night, dark'ning to one vast shade 
 
 Of purple black, when lamplike star by star 
 
 Sparkled or shone or pulsing flamed afar. 
 
 Silence save for each blent and natural sound 
 
 Of earth and air — where sea-caves made the ground, 
 
6 Childhood'' s Inheritance. 
 
 By tidal waves of ages undermined, 
 
 Groan as in travail —when the trumpet wind 
 
 All uncheck'd blew — or swelled the incessant cries 
 
 Of tossed waves in their breaking agonies. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Upon the summit of the ancient stone 
 
 (Whose birth was in Time's youth), and all alone, 
 
 Sat silent, tranced, and motionless a child 
 
 Like some sweet flow'r chance nurtured in the wild, 
 
 Sat watching seabirds, with his eager eyes 
 
 Full of the deep blue of the vaulted skies. 
 
 A child, for he indeed was little more ; 
 
 A child at heart, such as whom make the door 
 
 Of heaven seem open'd here — to whom the seas 
 
 Breaking in foam, and scattered spray- swept trees 
 
 With long arms wrestling, and the winds on wings 
 
 Invisible were wondrous living things. 
 
 VII. 
 
 A flower, for his wind-kissed locks unshorn 
 Shone yellow as gold daffodils at morn ; 
 His eyes were blue as in the golden grain 
 Windflow'rs are blue, and soft as after rain 
 
Childhood's Inheritance. 7 
 
 Violets that under dripping leaves have lain, 
 
 And tender as a dappled fawn's that yearn 
 
 For pity when the shrew-mice from the fern 
 
 Shake down the dew-drops ; 'neath his sunlit hair, 
 
 As early morning, his sweet face was fair 
 
 Beneath the sun-brown, — as a white bud rose 
 
 That flushes faintly while the June sun glows. 
 
 And even as he gazed there deeper grew 
 
 Within his eyes a holier softer blue. 
 
 Where some thought brooded in their sacred shade ; 
 
 It seemed almost as if some song were laid 
 
 Asleep upon his face that yet would find 
 
 Some perfect utterance for the echoing wind 
 
 Xo carry to the birds ; in reverie 
 
 Raptured he saw what these could never see. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Oh blessed time, when all God's world is fair 
 
 And to the soul not foreign ! When the bare 
 
 Wide cruel wastes of death-encumber'd sea 
 
 Seem as the voice of God that thunderingly 
 
 Beats round the recreant earth ; when morning seems 
 
 The revelation of one's utmost dreams 
 
 Of beauty ; when the slow death of the day 
 
8 Childhood^ s Inheritance. 
 
 Makes all the west one glorious crimson way 
 
 For happy souls that die ; and when the moon, 
 
 Wheeling her radiant orb thro' the dark noon 
 
 Of night, with conscious splendour makes the seas 
 
 Unutterably solemn, and great trees 
 
 Lost in the shadow stand forth with huge limbs 
 
 Ghastly and clear ; when bird songs are all hymns 
 
 Of joy and praise, and every wilding flower 
 
 Is known and loved ; and when each pent up hour 
 
 Seems worse than wasted to the eager heart, 
 
 That fain would hear the thrush-wings strike apart 
 
 The beech leaves in short flight ere full and clear 
 
 Burst the sweet tide of song, or watch the deer 
 
 Stand with great eyes amid the fern, or high 
 
 Hearken the cuckoo's music fill the sky. 
 
 IX. 
 
 He seemed content just silently to sit 
 
 And watch the breaking waves, the swallows flit 
 
 Like arrows through the air, save when along 
 
 The summer wind swept bearing the sweet song 
 
 Of happy larks, or the repeated cries 
 
 Of plovers when they caught the hawk's keen eyes 
 
 Fixt on their young — and then he seem'd to be 
 
Childhood'' s Inheritance. 9 
 
 Ail; sight and ear, as yearning tearfully 
 To beat with spirit pinions that fine air 
 Where at the gates of heaven exceeding fair 
 The bird-songs rose and fell like silver tides, 
 Or else to be as that royal bird that prides 
 Itself on flinching not before the sun 
 But stares undaunted, so he might have spun 
 Downward with death upon the fierce pois'd hawk. 
 Saving the moorland brood : not man or boy 
 Seem'd he so much as some incarnate joy 
 At one with all things fair, flowV o' the sod 
 And insect to the Loveliness call'd God. 
 
 As a red rose that in full bloom doth spread 
 
 Her soft flushed bosom to the wind ere dead 
 
 'Mid fallen leaves her queen liness is gone. 
 
 So the fair westering day in glory shone 
 
 Heedless of coming night though night was nigh. 
 
 The sunset burned afar : the holy sky 
 
 Seem'd filled with heavenly /9ba4^ mail'd in clear j/^^^ 
 
 gold ^ / 
 
 Guiding their purple rafts through seas that rolled 
 Immeasurably far off in crimson fire. 
 
 f/n^ 
 
lo Childhood's Inheritance. 
 
 The sea lay tranced watching the day expire, 
 And tired waves rose and fell as though each pray'r 
 Of rest long sought were granted. Everywhere 
 God's blessing brooded. And at last the day, 
 With one long earthward smile, dissolved away 
 Veiling her head in twilight robes where through , 
 The palpitating stars shone faint and few. 
 
 XI. 
 
 From out the darkening vault where they had hid 
 Through sweltering heats of noon, swiftly there slid 
 Star after star, each swimming fronj the near 
 Park blue of heaven as from a windless mere 
 Rise in calm morning twilights white and clear 
 Young lily buds that open golden eyes 
 Which joy makes wider when the day doth rise. 
 
 XII. 
 
 Far inland, with an oft-repeated cry 
 
 The curlew wailed, and swelled mysteriously 
 
 Hoarse sounds from the dim sea. The boy's face 
 
 grew 
 White in the dusky shade as swiftly flew 
 A greatAdate gull close by him, like a ghost 
 
Childhood's Inheritance. ii 
 
 Haunting the desolate margins of the coast : 
 Great moths came out, with myriad Vharded wings 
 Huge beetles droned, and other twilight things 
 Hummed their dim lives away, and through the air 
 The flittermice wheeled whistling : while the glare 
 Of summer lightnings flashing furtively 
 Blazed for a moment o'er the sleeping sea. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 At last, with a long sigh, he turn'd and slid 
 From the old rock, and for a little hid 
 His face amongst the heather-spires that shook 
 With cool sweet dews : then one last lingering look 
 Across the twilight seas, whereo'er the moon 
 Within her crescent shallop would sail soon, 
 When with swift steps he turn'd and westward fled 
 Across the moor by a little path that led, 
 Almost unseen save known, till suddenly, 
 Screened from the vision of the neighbouring sea 
 Low in a dip between two moorland mounds 
 A cottage lay ; whereto with rapid bounds 
 He sped, and, bearing with him odours of salt foam, 
 Entered the little doorway of his home. 
 UNIVERSITY Of CALlhOKNlA UB41ARY 
 
12 Childhood's Inherifance. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 Almost alone they lived, father and son ; 
 
 The elder had come here, life's joy being done 
 
 For him for ever, so that at the least 
 
 He might have rest. Nature was his priest 
 
 To soothe, and make Hope seem home possible 
 
 thing 
 And not the gleam of some phantasmal wing. 
 Deep in his books he lived ; with studious eyes 
 Scarce noting the young life beside him rise 
 From childhood into boyhood. Under skies 
 Far south his wife was born, and there she bore 
 The fruit that slew her ; there for evermore 
 The man's heart yearned with a deathless need. 
 And thus the child grew up like some wild weed 
 Fair but untrain'd ; a being that loved the birds 
 And knew their speech, and heard mysterious words 
 Whispered amid the silence of dim caves 
 By surging tides ; who loved the winds and waves 
 With passionate joy ; and whose clear soul was filled 
 All day with music, as a lyre is thrilled 
 By every breath of air : night, morning, noon. 
 The fires of sunset, th' ever changing moon, 
 
Childhood's Inheritance. 13 
 
 The stars, the seas, the moors, the wave-worn rocks, 
 The ultimate depths of heav'n, the white flocks 
 Of drifting clouds about the skirts of day — 
 All these seem'd his in some divine strange way, 
 And he at one with them, and his glad soul 
 But one small chord in the harmonic whole. 
 
CYCLE IL 
 
 YOUTH'S INHERITANCE. 
 I. 
 
 VAST deep dome wherein the shining fires 
 Of space hung panting, as though keen 
 desires 
 
 Burn'd in them to spring forth from the blind force 
 That held them as in leash ; a comet's course 
 Blazed in the east, and constellations flamed 
 As through the night they strode ; the famed 
 Canopus, whom on Syrian wastes afar 
 Men once had worshipp'd, and the fiery star 
 Aldebaran, and, sword-girt, great Orion 
 Whose light feared not the moon's — all these outshone 
 With splendour from dark heaven, and many more 
 Which mariners know well when drifting o'er 
 The far south seas : the Southern Cross ^leam 
 With fire shone high, and, as in some fierce dream 
 A. tigress pants, the pulsing star men know 
 
Youth's Inheritance. 15 
 
 As Sirius, in ever changing glow, 
 
 Blood-red, and purple, green, and blue, and white, 
 
 Flamed on the swarthy bosom of the night. 
 
 II. 
 
 As though the Power that made the Nautilus 
 
 A living glory on the perilous 
 
 Wild seas to roam, had from the utmost deep 
 
 Call'd a vast flawless pearl from out its deep 5""-- 
 
 And carved it crescentwise, exceeding fair, — 
 
 So seem'd the crescent moon that thro' the air 
 
 With motionless motion glided from the west. 
 
 And sailing onward ever seem'd at rest. 
 
 III. 
 
 Below, the wide waste of the ocean lay. 
 League upon league of moonled waters, "spray 
 And foam and salt sea'send ; a world of sea 
 By strong winds buffeted. And furtively 
 At times a shadow loomed above the waves 
 ^ \ Only to fade ,as men say out of graves 
 
 Troop spirits who flee back at mortal gaze/ 
 
 This shadow was a ship, which many days / 
 
 Ago had pass'd the doleful straits where sle^ - 
 
1 6 Youth's Inheritance. 
 
 The storms that rage and ravin on the deep. 
 She seem'd a bird, black, with tremendous wings 
 Poised high above her, a condor-bird that brings 
 Death in her sweep. Slowly the shadow grew 
 Distinct, and the stars seem'd more faint or i^^, 
 And the waves waxed wan and leaden, and afar 
 r the east the night seerrl'd troubled : ev'ry spar 
 Stood forth in outline, and above the topmost sail 
 The delicate glory of the moon grew pale. 
 
 IV. 
 
 The night rose from the east, and with slow svveep. 
 Her shadowy robes about her, o'er the deep 
 Far westward floated ; the dusk, her sister fair, 
 With soft remembering eyes and twilight hair, 
 From out the brooding depths of heaven stole, 
 And lingered with her faint sweet aureole 
 Of trembling light, as though she could not leave 
 The shadowy ways she haunted, where waves heave 
 As sighing in sleep, and as a dream the wind 
 Breathes hushfully. But lo, the east behind 
 Quivers, and afar the horizon thrills 
 One moment, and a seabird wails and shrills 
 Then sinks to rest again. And like a dream 
 
Youth's Inheritunce. 17 
 
 That fades as we awake, or like the gleam 
 Upon a child's face ere it falls to sleep, 
 The tender twilight faded o'er the deep. 
 
 V. 
 
 Again the whole east trembled, and a hush 
 
 Fill'd sky and sea ; and then a rosy flush 
 
 Stole upward, as sweet and delicately fair 
 
 As pink wild roses in the April air. 
 
 And suddenly some shafts of gold were hurled 
 
 Right up into the sky, and o'er the world 
 
 A molten flood seem'd imminent, till swift 
 
 The rose veil parted in a mighty rift, 
 
 And the great sun sprang forth, and o'er the sea 
 
 Rose uj? jresplen^eBiit, shihing gloriously. 
 
 VI. 
 
 White shone the wind-fill 'd sails of the tall ship 
 Escaping from the waves, fain to outstrip 
 This giant of the deep : a league behind 
 The white track she had made danced in the wind 
 Foaming and surging, while white clouds of spray 
 Swept from the bows that cleft their wind-urged way. 
 
 C 
 
1 8 Youth's Inheritance, 
 
 VII. 
 
 And suddenly a shout came from the crew. 
 
 For one had spied emerging from the blue 
 
 What seem'd a delicate pale purple band 
 
 Of morning cloud ; no larger than a hand 
 
 It lay asleep upon th' horizon line 
 
 And like some lovely amethyst did shine. 
 
 But this was land, and eager eyes were bent 
 
 To take the wonder in. Even then a scent 
 
 Of something sweeter than the salt sea-breeze 
 
 Seem'd in the air, odours of spicy trees 
 
 And sweet green grass, and fruits, and flowVs the eye 
 
 Sees only 'neath the hot Pacific sky ; 
 
 And every heart was glad, for each felt free 
 
 For one day from the ever present sea. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 But after noon had passed with scorching rays 
 The wind grew slack and ceased, and then a haze 
 Crept from the quivering north, and to and fro 
 Wandered the windless waves, as white sheep go 
 Straggling about the meadow-lands when far 
 The shepherd strays ; and from the distant bar. 
 
Youth's Inheritance, 19 
 
 White in both calm and tempest, that enwound 
 
 What now was seen an island, came the sound 
 
 Of breaking billows in a muffled roar. 
 
 As in a shell one hears a wave-washed shore. 
 
 And soon the sea itself grew still and mild 
 
 And seem'd to sleep, just as a little child 
 
 After its boisterous play and fretful rest 
 
 Lays down its head upon its mother's breast, 
 
 And, smiling, becomes one of God's pure things 
 
 Once more ; and as with folded wings 
 
 An angel sleeps upon the buoyant air 
 
 So wholly slept the wind ; while, with her hair 
 
 A misty veil about her, Silence rose 
 
 And cast o'er sea and sky her hush'd repose. 
 
 DC. 
 
 As a dream slowly onward drifts to sleep 
 So stealthily the windless ship did creep 
 Closer and closer to the foaming bar ; 
 Noon burned above, like furnace vast afar 
 Flaming unseen ; and, with a dazzling glare. 
 The sleeping ocean heaved her bosom bare 
 As some great woman of the giant days 
 Supine 'mid mountain-grasses in the ra\ s 
 
 C 2 
 
20 Youth's Inheritance. 
 
 Of an intolerable sun might breathe 
 
 With panting breasts : far in cool depths beneath 
 
 'Mid swaying loveliness of ocean weed 
 
 Bright fish swam to and fro, and with fell speed 
 
 The pale shark gleamed and vanish'd, as when Death 
 
 Is seen a moment 'mid life's failing breath. 
 
 At last a boat put off from the ship's side 
 Urged by swift oars, — a speck upon the wide 
 And dazzling waste : and soon the bar was crossed, 
 And the long ridge, where foam for ever tossed 
 Like fountain sprays around, once past, a mile 
 Of motionless loveliness without the smile 
 Of even one young rippling wave stretched on 
 Till its blue lips the white sands fawned upon. 
 
 XI. 
 
 Swift in the rowlocks swept the oars, and fast 
 The boat fled strained and throbbing until past 
 The azure mile, and on the shelving beach 
 Its brown keel g\ided sharply ; each to each 
 Shouted with joyous cries and boyish mirth 
 To feel beneath their feet the steadfast earth 
 
Youth's Inheritance. 21 
 
 Again, to see the scared birds scream and fly 
 
 Circling around, the waving palms on high 
 
 Heavy with milk-filled nuts, and branches bent 
 
 With juicy fruits, and a little stream that sent 
 
 Delicious thrills of thirst thro' each one there 
 
 So clear it seem'd and like some living thing 
 
 Dancing and splashing in its wandering : 
 
 And then to feel the very air fiUM full 
 
 Of scents delicious stealing from the cool 
 
 Green forest shades, heavy magnolias fair 
 
 O'er brimm'd with odours sweet, green maiden-hair 
 
 Quivering above the intoxicating bliss 
 
 Of heavy laden lilies, each a kiss 
 
 Lost to the world of lovers, but grown here 
 
 To shape and hue, of festooned orchids made 
 
 Of colours such as burn in rainbows, fade 
 
 Gloriously in sundown western skies, 
 
 Or shine within the splendour of sunrise : 
 
 Great fragrant blossoms twined amongst the trees 
 
 Like prisoned birds-of-paradise, by bees 
 
 And gorgeous insects haunted : and such deeps 
 
 Of billowy green (the loveliness that sweeps 
 
 The soul more swift to joy than brightest flow'rs), 
 
 As though the forest were a myriad bow'rs, 
 
 Too fair for man, wrought hither into one 
 
22 Youth's Inheritance. 
 
 For the fair dreams of old who 'neath the sun 
 Laugh'd in the vales of Tempe, or outrun 
 The stag in Attic woods, or danced upon 
 Hymettus and the slopes of Helicon. 
 
 XII. 
 
 But one amongst the joyous men withdrew 
 
 And wander'd inland, for his spirit knew 
 
 That rapt delight in its own subtle mood 
 
 When the soul craves and yearns for solitude 
 
 Akin to its own loneliness of joy. 
 
 A man in strength and stature, yet a boy 
 
 In years and heart, to whom the whole sweet, fair, 
 
 And beautiful world was a thing laid bare 
 
 By God for man to love, to whom it seemed 
 
 A loveliness more sweet than he had dreamed 
 
 Of woman in the passionate dreams of youth : 
 
 He saw the joy and glory, not the ruth 
 
 And death and grief that unto older eyes 
 
 Dwell likewise there, as water underlies 
 
 The still white beauty of the frost : but to 
 
 The poet it must seem so ever, new 
 
 And fresh and wonderful and sweet and true 
 
 And ever-changing, for although he knfew 
 
Youth's Inheritance, : 2^ 
 
 The strange coincidence of natural woe 
 With what to him is as the breath of God, 
 He sees beyond and deeper — every clod 
 Of earth that holds a flow'r-root is to him 
 The casement of a miracle ; in the grim 
 Reflux, decay, that doth pervade all things. 
 He sees not but the shadow of death's wings, 
 But only mists of sleep and change that drift 
 Till the bowed face of Life again shall lift. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 As the hot day swooned into afternoon 
 Hotter and hotter grew the air, and soon 
 All the north-western space of sky became 
 Heavy, metallic, where the heat did flame 
 In quivering bronze; and the sea grew changed 
 Tho' moveless still, as though dark rivers ranged 
 Purple and green and black throughout its deeps ; 
 At times, as a shudder comes o*er one who sleeps 
 And dreams of something evil, swiftly flew 
 Across its face a chill that changed the blue 
 To a sheet of beaten silver ; then again 
 It slept on as before but as in pain- 
 
24 Youth's Inheritance, 
 
 XIV. 
 
 And suddenly the ship's gun fired, and then 
 Three times the ensign dipp>ed ; startled, the men 
 A moment stared, then down the shingly strand 
 S|>ed swiftly, and from the silvery sand 
 That edged the wave-line launched their boat and 
 
 sprang 
 Each to his. place, and soon there sharply rang 
 Through the electric air the cleaving oars 
 That swept them seaward from the island shores. 
 
 XV. 
 
 The sea seemed changed to oil, heavy and dark 
 
 And smooth, with frequently a blotch-like mark 
 
 Or stain, as though the lifeless waves had died 
 
 Of some disease and lain and putrified. 
 
 And like a drop of oil, heavy and thick, 
 
 A raindrop fell making a sheeny flick 
 
 That glitter'd strangely ; then another came. 
 
 Another, and another, till a flame 
 
 Of pale wan light flicker'd above the waves 
 
 That slept, or lifeless lay, as over graves 
 
 New-made a ghastly glimmer drifts and gleams. 
 
Youth's Inheritance. 25 
 
 Or as that vagrant fire that faintly streams 
 
 O'er lonely marsh lands thro' each swarthy night. 
 
 There was a strange, weird, calm, unearthly light 
 
 Shifting about the sky, as o'er the face 
 
 Of one who had been fair a smile might chase 
 
 The horrorl of some madness half away. 
 
 The raindrops ceas'd : from the boat's oars the 
 
 spray 
 Fell heavily : and then once more it rained 
 Slow drops awhile the boat's crew gained ^*uyi^*^ yU^c^ 
 The ship, where all with waiting anxious eyes 
 Watched the metallic gloom of brazen skies. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 And suddenly there crashed a dreadful peal 
 Right overhead — the whole world seem'd to reel 
 And stagger with the blow : the heaven's womb 
 Opened and brought forth flame : an awful gloom 
 Stretched like a pall and shrouded up the sun : 
 Then once again the thunder seem'd to stun 
 The shaking firmament, and livid jags 
 Of lightning tore the cloud-pall into rags, 
 Again and yet again as tho' 'twere hurled 
 Straight down for the destruction of the world, 
 
26 Youth^s Inheritance. 
 
 And yet again like hell's fire uncontrolled : 
 And ceaselessly the deafening thunder rolled 
 Above and all around, as though the ship 
 Was in the hollow of God's hand, whose grip 
 Would close ere long and into powder grind. 
 At last burst forth the fury of the wind 
 Imprison'd long, which like a wild beast sprang 
 Upon the panting sea and howling swang 
 Its great frame to and fro, and yelled and tore 
 Its heaving breast^ tossing thick foam like gore 
 In savage glee about ; and like a spray 
 Of blossom whirled before a gale, away 
 The ship was swept o'er boiling seas that fled 
 Before the wild wind howling as it sped 
 Far from its thunderous caverns overhead. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 And not till then it suddenly was known 
 
 That on the island whence their barque had flown 
 
 One who had/W^TS^fe^ttm was left behind — 
 
 He who had wandered inland : but the wind 
 
 Blew ever with a shrill and doleful cry, 
 
 Calling the bloodhound waves to faster fly 
 
 And seize the fleeing ship ; a million deaths 
 
Youth's Inheritance. 27 
 
 Leagues behind follow'd them with clamorous 
 
 breaths ; 
 To turn were to perish, and so they sped 
 Onward, as helpless as a whirling grain 
 Of sand upon a tempest-stricken plain. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 Meanwhile the island trembled 'neath the pow'r 
 Of the rushing wind, as though its final hour 
 Had come upon it ; but he whose eager eyes 
 Watched the frail ship being hurl'd far out of sight 
 Feared not so much himself the tempest*s might 
 But rather for those friends swept far away. 
 If saved, he knew that some immediate day 
 Would see the white sails gleaming on the sea 
 Beyond the bar again, and joyously 
 He laughed to think of happy hours to spend 
 Yet here awhile. Two hours passed, and the end 
 O' the storm came ; and while he watched it sweep 
 Like a destroying angel o'er the deep 
 Far to the south, the sun shone forth again, 
 The birds shook from their wings the clinging rain 
 And thrilled the air with gladness, and the land 
 Bloomed out afresh, and on the shining sand 
 
28 Youth^s Inheritance. 
 
 The waves broke with a soft repentant motion ; 
 Miles and miles stretched the foaming dancing ocean, 
 Tossing blue waves in glee and whirling spray 
 Hither and thither, until tired of play 
 And wearying for calm dreams it also grew 
 Quiet and still and slept in one dense blue. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 It was now late in the sweet afternoon, 
 
 The hours of shadow and sweet rest : and soon 
 
 The day would fall asleep in sunset clouds 
 
 And twilight steal and cover earth with shrouds 
 
 Of meaning dusk, until the solemn night 
 
 Would eastward come crown'd with the lambent light 
 
 Of the full golden moon. But still the sun 
 
 Hung high in the west, nor would his course be run 
 
 For one hour yet or more, and land and sea 
 
 Owned him yet lord in regnant majesty. 
 
 XX. 
 
 On the north-west of the island rose a height, 
 Crown'd with tall waving palms of coral white 
 Heaved through long years from sea-depths far below. 
 Thither the young man turn*d his steps to go 
 
 / 
 
e^/ 
 
 Youth's Inheritance. 29 
 
 To see the farewell splendours of the day 
 All marshall'd in magnificent array. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 He passed whole brakes of sweet magnolias, fair 
 Orchids with flushed white breasts and streaming 
 
 hair, 
 Lilies with languorous golden eyes, and flowrs 
 That stooped to kiss him from their leafy bovyrs -^ 
 
 / Hid in green spaces ; then right through a glade 
 Of trembling tree-ferns wander'd ; then the shade 
 Of lofty palms enclosed him, till he came 
 Once more on orchids, each one as a flame, 
 Scarlet, or white, or purple, tree -ferns high 
 Warming their trailing tresses 'neath the sky 
 Where the sun burn'd low down, frond laid on frond 
 Of spiked green cacti, and at last, beyond 
 A stretch of dazzling sand, laughing in glee 
 The blue bright jubilant waters of the sea. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 And suddenly he started as though stung 
 
 By some hid snake, then down his frame he flung 
 
 And looked with eager eyes. Upon the strand 
 
30 Youth's Inheritance. 
 
 He saw brown figures move — a joyous band 
 Of laughing girls : and lo, upon the crown 
 Of a great billow that came thundering down, 
 One fair girl-shape with long hair blown behind 
 Poised for a moment ! The soft western wind 
 Thrill'd with sweet echoed cries, and then once more 
 A great curved billow swooped upon the shore 
 Bearing an agile form that gleam'd forth bright 
 Like shining bronze against the sunset light. ^ 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 Quite close upon the shore he lay ; so near, 
 He saw the happy light within their clear 
 Dark eyes, and saw their joyous laughter make 
 A sweetness round their lips, and saw them shake 
 The thick black tresses of their hair, all wet 
 With salt sea-spray. He thought that he had met 
 The fabled syrens, or the nymphs of Md ^/ 
 
 Whom Pan loved dearly, by hard fate compeli'd / 
 
 To leave their antique Greece — and as he stood 
 • Wrapt in the pleasant vision of this mood, 
 A cry shrill'd suddenly along the sand, 
 And in a fnoment almost the bare strand 
 Stretched white and lonely, for as shadows flee 
 
Youth'' s Inheritance, ,31 
 
 When the sun springs impetuously 
 
 From mountain peak to peak so swiftly fled 
 
 The nude bronze figures. The sinking sun, red 
 
 Like a wounded warrior king, lay down 
 
 r the west to die, taking his shining crown 
 
 Of gold from off his brow, which unseen hands 
 
 Held poised above him in mid air : the lands 
 
 That he had conquer'd thro' the long fierce day, 
 
 And seas that owned his rule, faded away 
 
 Before his filming eyes, but, ere the night 
 
 Should come, once more he rais'd his stricken sight 
 
 From out the purple royal robes that wound 
 
 About his limbs — stared straight, as on a hound 
 
 Baying a lion far off", on \ight whose size C^i^. 
 
 Gigantic loomed i' the east — strove yet to rise 
 
 But could not — so lay back with glaring eyes 
 
 Upon the blood-stain'd clouds — while overhead 
 
 A star leaped forth knowing his lord was dead. 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 But he had heard that in these happy isles 
 Friendly the natives were — that welcome smiles 
 Met each who wander'd there — so forth he went 
 Across the shingly strand, then stopped and sent 
 
32 Youth's Inheritance. 
 
 A shrill cry through the air. And speedily- 
 Tall lissom figures drew anear ; then he 
 By signs related how the changeful sea 
 Had brought him thither, and how hunger made 
 Him weary: and thereafter, when he stayed 
 His signs and waited, one who seem'd a chief 
 Stepped forth and handed him a palm-tree leaf 
 In sign of friendship, and with kindly eyes 
 Lifted his hand and waved it all around 
 As though to say that all things he had found 
 Were his, that here he might find welcome rest 
 And live with them partaking of their best. 
 
 XXV 
 
 They led him then across the sands to where. 
 
 In a delicious hollow where cool air 
 
 That late had wander'd on the thirsty seas 
 
 Dwelt in green spaces, 'neath great branched trees 
 
 Cluster d their huts : and entering into one 
 
 The old chief led him as an honour'd son, 
 
 And soon sweet fruits and flesh of fowl and kid 
 
 Were laid before him, plantain-bread amid 
 
 Its broad green leaves, and the strong native wine 
 
 The palm-nuts give, and sweet fish from the brine 
 
Youth's Inheritance. 33 
 
 ' Cluctcf d thoir hutj 1 amd L,nlailng into m^^ 
 
 And aeowfiwcelrfrnitfr . nnH flsch of foul aiid kid 
 
 M^rra liiH h^f^ro hinij f Inntiin lirrn 1 iiii i 1 
 
 Ilj bn!jud gi'coii loav e c; and tho oti ' ong nativn iTririf? 
 
   1^10 paliii iiulj ^i i t , 11I111I I fi li riiiiii II11 liii iiii 
 
 New caught, and water from a running stream 
 That gurgled near Hke music in a dream. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 The aky/jand tender twilight had now fled, / ^/ 
 
 And all night's starry hosts shone overhead / 
 
 In myriad fires, and rising suddenly 
 
 The orb'd and yellow moon above the sea 
 
 Shone full : it might have been the risen soul 
 
 From a dead sea whose waves had' ceased to roll. 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 And at the sound of laughter on the sands 
 Those in the hut came forth : clapping his hands 
 The old chief made some summons, and anear 
 One drew — a living loveliness, with clear 
 Dark wonderful large eyes whose depths contained 
 The passionate spirit in the flesh enchained : 
 
 D 
 
34 YouMs Inheritance, 
 
 A mouth like some wild rose bud red, a bare 
 Bronzed beautiful neck, round which her waving hair 
 Swayed like the wind-blown tendrils of a vine, 
 Or like the tangled sea-weed in the brine 
 Tide drifted to and fro ; her bosom swelled 
 Urged by her panting heart, as when beheld 
 Of old the queen, whose face made all the world 
 One war, the eyes of Anthony — or as 
 When Helen flush'd when Paris first did pass 
 Before her with fixt gaze ; around her waist 
 A girdle of fair feathers interlaced 
 With cowrie shells drooped slant-wise to her knee. 
 And small and delicate feet, like those that flee 
 Among the shadowy hills at dawn when far 
 The twilight hours speed 'fore the morning star, 
 Press'd but scarce marked the sand : she stood as one 
 Tranced in a vision, and he as on that sun 
 Columbus stared that offered him the West. 
 Love's fire was litten sudden in each breast. 
 
 XXVIII. 
 Ah 1 in the years to come how that night seemed 
 Some beautiful vision that he long since dreamed ! 
 The moon rose slowly o'er the sea, as though 
 
Youth's Inheritance, 35 
 
 She linger'd in those heavenly ways where thro^ 
 The stars shone as bright flowVs : the leagiieless deep 
 Had lullabied its waters into sleep, 
 And only at long intervals there blew 
 A cool soft fanning wind that ere long grew 
 Aweary also, and so stirred aside 
 The slow reluctant leaves and like a tide 
 Crept ever farther in amongst the trees 
 Till in a little dell, with flowVs the bees 
 • Haunted all day, it sank to restful ease. 
 Laughter and wild strange music from curv'd shell 
 And palm-tree flute far echoed ; the sea swell 
 Urged hushfully its endless monotone — 
 And he the ship had left stood there alone 
 And knew it not, for his whole life was filled 
 With the utter peace, and his spirit thrilled 
 With imminent joy, and all his heart was hot 
 With new-born love, and all else was forgot. 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 When he that night lay sleeping on his bed 
 Woven of palm-tree fibre, strange dreams fled 
 Like ghosts through the dark valley of his sleep. 
 He dreamt he saw the green weeds of the deep 
 
 D 2 
 
36 Youth's Inheritance. 
 
 Swaying unconscious of the light of day, 
 
 And 'neath their convolutions lo ! there lay 
 
 Two shining gems that seem'd alive with light : 
 
 And then he dreamt that dark eternal night 
 
 Brooded for. ever, without change, around — 
 
 Till suddenly two stars leaped with a bound 
 
 From out the womb of chaos, staring straight 
 
 Upon him : and. next he dreamed that fate 
 
 Had wash'd his wan drown'd body to the strand 
 
 Where the waves wanton'd with him, when a hand 
 
 He saw not pulled him from the brine that made 
 
 His tangled hair like sea- weed, softly laid 
 
 His wave-tossed head upon a bank of flow'rs, and 
 
 drew 
 A palm branch 'twixt him and the burning blue 
 Of heaven ; and then he oped his weary eyes 
 And met the gaze of one from Paradise : 
 And then he woke, and knew the gems he saw 
 Down in the ocean depths with such strange awe, 
 And the two stars that made th' eternal night 
 Pregnant with message, and the orbs that o'er 
 Him bent when death had washed him to the shore, 
 Were each time but the eyes of her whose gaze 
 Had flashed to his soul's utmost depths, whose face 
 Seem'd burned and printed on his heart, whose grace 
 
Youth's Inheritance. ^37 
 
 Haunted his inward vision as when floats 
 The fair mirage 'fore him who far off notes 
 Its unsubstantial beauty, shining clear 
 Yet never to be reached or be brought near. 
 
 XXX. 
 
 Six days passed, and it seem'd as though he had 
 Dwelt there since birth : joyous, unthinking, glad. 
 He was at one with those who lived around. 
 They called him by some sweet name like a sound 
 Of distant music, and the name that meant 
 So much to him and all the quick blood sent 
 Up to her face when e'er to her he spake 
 Was Aluha. Oft by a little lake 
 That inland lay half hidden by great white 
 And scented lilies, curtain'd from the light 
 By tall and shadowy fronds of fern, they strolled 
 Hand claspt in hand ; and when the fragrant gold 
 That was the heart of some great forest-flow'r 
 Fell on their face and hands in a sudden show'r, 
 Stirred by some quivering wing of bird the heat 
 Kept silent 'midst the leaves, her laughter sweet 
 Rippled like falling water, till their eyes 
 Of a sudden met, and a swift flush did rise 
 
38 Youth's Inheritance, 
 
 And make her face a ruddy damask rose, 
 And his hand trembled as of one who knows 
 A perilous abyss beside him yawn. 
 And in the tender beauty of the dawn 
 Together they went down and watched the sea 
 With little wavelets splashing hushfully 
 Beyond the breaking rollers, till afar 
 The east was seen to tremble, and a star 
 Made of pure gold to twinkle on a wave, 
 Till suddenly the sun, as from a grave 
 A soul might spring rejoicing, sprang sheer up 
 Above the sky-line — and as from a cup 
 O'er-brimm'd the flooded water pours, clear gold 
 Along the lifted waves resistless rolled. 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 And on the seventh day the tropic sun 
 
 Grew fiercer still ; the noon-heats seemed to stun 
 
 Both sea and land, and the long afternoon 
 
 Lay like a furnace on the deep : the moon 
 
 Sailed through the breathless sky at last and brought 
 
 Cool shadows ; till a little breeze long sought 
 
 Wander'd on vagrant wings unto the isle. 
 
 Where the strand crescent curv'd, almost a mile 
 
Youth's Inheritance. 39 
 
 From the palm-shaded huts, there was a bend 
 
 Of forest, sweet with heavy scents, the end 
 
 Of a magnolia brake ; and overhead 
 
 Tall tree-ferns waved, and thick grass made a bed 
 
 Where the dark sky and stars were seen alone, 
 
 And the sea was not save for its hush'd moan. 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 And there the lovers lay silent and still. 
 
 At times the listless wind would send a thrill 
 
 Through the dark leaves, or a hidden bird would 
 
 shake 
 Its wings while dreaming, or a wave would break 
 On the unseen sea with an unusual sound. 
 Or suddenly a beetle on the ground 
 Would clang its sharded wings, bat/these but made 
 The silence deeper. Lost within the shade 
 The lovers lay : her dark eyes watched a star 
 Straining in heaven as though its fires impelled 
 It forth to spring where it far down beheld 
 The earth in soft light spin ; he watched her eyes 
 Reflect the panting star-iire in the skies ; 
 And then he trembled, and once strove to speak 
 But could not. Then against his flushing cheek 
 
40 Youth's Inheritance, 
 
 A tress of hair wind- lifted from her breast 
 Brushed gently: then he sudden stooped and pressed 
 His lips to hers, and clasped her close and cried 
 In a strange voice Alicha ! Side by side 
 Silent they lay awhile, as though half dazed 
 By extreme passion : till at last she raised 
 Her eyes to his with one long look that thrilled 
 His spirit with love's ecstasy fulfilled. 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 And like a dream the long night drifted past, 
 
 As a thick mist, stirred by no mountain blast 
 
 But moving in some strange mysterious way, 
 
 Drifts o'er the steep hill sides. Faint, wan, and grey 
 
 The far east grew, and in the dusky sky 
 
 The moon sail'd lustreless, and mistily 
 
 The planets shone, and paled each starry fire 
 
 Each like some sad and unfulfill'd desire. 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 And when the sun rose it was in a mist 
 Wrought of pale gold, purple, and amethyst, 
 Changing to lovely carmine, then to rose. 
 Then to a faint blue haze of heat ; like snows 
 
Youth's Inheritance, ^41 
 
 That melt away before the soft south wind 
 
 Each wandering cloud faded the sun behind : 
 
 And over all the quivering sky there spread 
 
 A deepening haze, so that overhead 
 
 The sun tho' flaming fiercely was not seen. 
 
 Ere this the light stirred through their leafy screen 
 
 And woke the lovers : in his eyes the fire 
 
 Of passion was not quenched, and still desire 
 
 Dwelt in the shadowy depths of) those he loved : 
 
 Still hand in hand they lay ; and neither moved, 
 
 As though they feared the breaking of some charm 
 
 Too dear for speech. At last she stole her arm 
 
 Around his neck and put her lips to his 
 
 And wedded him again with one long kiss — 
 
 And all the blood within him was like wine 
 
 Burning his veins ; his spirit felt divine 
 
 In the first flush of love surpassing sweet, 
 
 And in this climax life seem'd made complete. 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 Then hand in hand, with ever and again 
 
 Eyes seeking eyes, as though with hungry pain 
 
 Love starved for reassurance, ever new 
 
 And wonderful, — they went, shaking the dew /, 
 
42 Youth's Inheritance, 
 
 That glistened on each leaflet to the ground. 
 
 There was an ominous absence of all sound 
 
 Such as most mornings knew ; the quivering haze 
 
 Curtain'd the well-lov'd sky, and to their gaze 
 
 It seemed the palms and heavy flowers stooped 
 
 Already heavy, and in the shadow drooped 
 
 The birds with half closed wings, or swiftly sped 
 
 Voiceless to deeper shade : but overhead 
 
 A whirling insect flew with a fierce drone 
 
 Shrill and metallic : with a. stifled moan 
 
 The brooding sea remembered some old grief. 
 
 And when upon the ground a wither'd leaf 
 
 Fell rustling, though not a breath of wind blew 
 
 there, 
 It whirled in circles thro' the electric air. 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 Aluha passed into her hut, and he 
 Sought coolness in his own : noon heavily 
 Drew near^ and with a brooding sense of pain 
 Fiird up the day. All nature seem'd to strain 
 Expectant of some evil, as men wait 
 Helpless the heavy hand of imminent fate. 
 
Youth's Inheritance, 43 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 And suddenly like some far distant gun 
 A long low rumble mutter'd : the red sun 
 Shrunk thro' a livid mist, and shone no more. 
 A billowy swell swept swiftly on the shore 
 Though no wind blew ; the oily sea was freaked 
 With lines such as a stagnant pool is streaked ; 
 And the tall palm-trees shiver'd, as a breath 
 Of icy air had whispered them of death. 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 
 Again, like far artillery in the sky. 
 
 The distant thunder rattled : a low sigh 
 
 Moan'd o'er the deep, but not a drop of rain 
 
 Fell from above, — then all was still again. 
 
 Dark and more dark it grew, as though the day 
 
 Were shadow'd in eclipse ; but far away 
 
 Strange sudden lights were darting through the 
 
 clouds, ^ 
 
 Like gleaming corpse lights o'er TJ^te/dead sun's / a^ 
 
 shrouds ; ' / 
 
 And darker still it grew, till overhead 
 A terrible livid blackness was outspread 
 
44 Youth's Inheritance, 
 
 And the storm brooded right above the isle. 
 
 Still the same awful silence ! Mile on mile 
 
 Of wan and purply waters lay as tho' 
 
 They sank from some fierce scourge, and to and fro 
 
 A surface-current twisted like a black 
 
 And sinuous serpent ; the sal^ea-wrack 
 
 Oozed out a filthy scum that sullenly 
 
 Blotched the dead calm with spots like leprosy. 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 And suddenly, as 'twere the crash of doom. 
 Heaven seem'd to rock ! From out the blasted 
 
 womb 
 Of the thick darkness belched a stream of fire 
 Blazing and burning, as though hell's desire 
 Furrowed the world, that shook and quaked and 
 
 reeled 
 As deafening \y the dreadful thunder peeled 
 From horrible abysses in the sky. 
 And in the midst thereof a piercing cry 
 Of human pain followed a livid flash 
 Of lightning, when again a dreadful crash 
 Blasted the air o'erhead while rock and steep 
 Shook as by motion of the swaying deep. 
 
Youth's Inheritance. 45 
 
 XL. 
 
 Then, as though all the floods that heav'n had stored 
 For days and days were loose, the dense rain poured 
 Downward in blinding torrents : till an hour 
 Dragged slowly past ; and then it seem'd the power 
 O' the storm had vanish'd. Far off in the east 
 The thunder howled still, like a savage beast 
 Famished and tearing at its stricken prey. 
 But from the isle it was now far away, 
 And the sun shone once more, and a cool breeze 
 Blew from the south, and the drench'd dripping trees 
 Flashed as though clad in shining coats of mail. 
 And lo ! upon the west sea-marge a sail 
 Hover'd like some white bird, — but heeding not 
 The sea or what it held the lover sought 
 His bride of one sweet night, and drawing near 
 Called Aliihd ! And then with sudden fear 
 He saw her father's hut was torn half down 
 And part all scarred and scorched ; its crown 
 Of palm leaves was no more, but on the ground 
 Lay strewn and broken ; and not a single sound 
 Bless'd his strained ear. With shaking hands he drew 
 The fallen leaves aside, and then he knew 
 
46 Youth's Inheritance, 
 
 Whose dreadful cry it was that shook the air 
 Above the din ! With all her lovely hair 
 Strewn o'er the delicate bosom's dusky grey, 
 And with closed eyes, hence loveless, quiet she lay. 
 Only adown the tender brow there ran 
 A narrow furrow. Close by lay a man. 
 Her brother, with a scorch'd and blacken'd cheek, 
 And on his face the unenfranchised shriek 
 Which swift death intercepted : without stain 
 Or mark dead also the old chief! All pain 
 Was over for them, and their little life 
 Was ended as a dream or bygone strife. 
 
 XLI. 
 
 So still they lay : he could not quite believe 
 
 Each spark of life had fled. Could cruel fate weave 
 
 Such sorrow from her loom for no good end ? 
 
 But when he took the hand which used to send 
 
 Such tremors through him, kissing it again 
 
 And yet again, and felt the dreadful pain 
 
 Of no response, and in a numbed strange daze 
 
 Looked in the eyes where from his eager gaze 
 
 Death shrouded up the soul, he knew at last 
 
 All that had come to him : his sweet dream past, 
 
Youth's Inheritance, 47 
 
 His passionate love a thing that was no more 
 
 But only a stinging memory to brood o'er, 
 
 Life turned a little wearier, and the morn 
 
 Of youth grief-clouded, older grown, forlorn — 
 
 When all this came upon him the sobs shook 
 
 His strong young frame. And then once more he 
 
 took 
 His dear love in his arms, and kissed her lips 
 As though her spirit yet from the eclipse 
 Wherein it lay might wake, calling her wife . / ^ 
 
 And darling, his dear loveihis life, /] '^ J 
 
 Till the sobs choked his utterance and stayed 
 The agony of his loss. And then he laid 
 Her gently down, and one long farewell gazed 
 Then left and wander d forth as one half dazed. 
 
 XLII. • 
 
 'Twas late in the afternoon when down the strand 
 
 He saw one running towards him with his hand 
 
 Pointing out seaward o'er the curving bay. 
 
 And lo, before his eyes his own ship lay 
 
 With yards squared round, and urged by splashing 
 
 oars 
 The longboat steering for the island shores. 
 
48 Youth's Inheritance. 
 
 XLIII. 
 
 A few short hours ago he would have bid 
 The old life glad good-bye, choosing amid 
 The island folk to dwell — but now the land 
 Was hateful to him, for no loving hand 
 Would beckon him again by the little lake 
 That slumber'd lily-clad ; no eyes would make 
 His heart beat fast with joy ; and never again 
 Would the dear voice replace the last hour's pain. 
 
 XLIV. 
 
 So, when the boat's keel grided on the shore. 
 And eager shipmates clasped his hand once more, 
 A great weight was uplifted from his heart : 
 Yet was he loth when the hour came to part 
 With those who loved him and(made him seem 
 One of themselves. But soon 'twas all a dream 
 Strange and unreal, when, standing on the deck, 
 He saw the island lessen to a speck 
 In the fast gathering twilight. Soon his eyes 
 No more beheld the earthly paradise 
 Where he had tasted the sweet joy of love. 
 Yet the same solemn moon that sailed above 
 
Youth's Inheritance. 49 
 
 Had seen their passion bloom, a tropic flower, 
 Through one delicious, lost, remembered hour. 
 
 XLV.. , , 
 
 For youth is but a glad forgetfulness. 
 
 Or rather, passing onward : the years bless 
 
 With such sweet copious gifts, the soul stays not 
 
 To linger with sad sorrows best forgot/ 
 
 But like the tender south wind of the spring 
 
 It goes from flow'r to flow'r, while glad birds sing 
 
 And the blue skies are fair : what good to wait 
 
 By this or that blown rose until too late 
 
 ^ find the sombre autumn drawing nigh 
 
 Wherein few roses bloom ? For steadily 
 
 The years come round wherein past youth doth seem 
 
 The irrevocable beauty of a dream. 
 

 r 
 
 f 
 
 Z.'^ 
 
 CYCLE III. 
 
 MANHOOD AND WOMANHOOD'S INHERITANCE. 
 I. 
 
 IVE years have passed, and still the world 
 has brought 
 But little change to me. High things I 
 sought 
 For mind and hand to do : the world seem'd fair 
 Before me,, and I felt the strength to dare 
 And conquer. Five short years since that day 
 When, for the last time, I looked on the grey 
 Beloved college walls, and knew at last 
 That manhood had begun and youth was past." 
 
 II. 
 
 So to himself spake Arnold Selwyn, as 
 With slow enjoying steps he trod the grass 
 Fresh with cool dews and gentle summer show'rs 
 In the sweet dawn of a May day, whose hours 
 
^;^^'U:^'- 
 
 Manhood and Womanhood ^ Inheritance, 51 
 
 Were sacred here as on the hills and leas 
 Far from the city smoke — for 'neath the trees 
 Heavy with myriad lamp-like chestnut blooms 
 Of Kensington he wander'd : from hot rooms 
 He came, where all the summer evening through 
 The dancers had not flagged. The blackbirds 
 
 flew 
 About his path, with mellow voices clear 
 Full fluted, and, from an old beech-tree near, 
 A song.thrush, poised upon a branch wind sway'd,. 
 Sang wild with its own music, till afraid 
 With extreme bliss its tremulous tljirills piped low 
 And with a far-off sadness, like the flow 
 'Of windless waters on an alien beach — 
 Till the soft lights among the green leaves, each 
 A little waving wing, its heart away 
 Swept in a tide of joy once more ; the spray 
 Shook with its wild delight, which thrill'd and 
 
 thrill'd 
 Till silenced in sheer ecstasy. It fill'd 
 The heart of him who listen'd with a glad 
 Rebirth of youth — such joy as Chaucer had 
 (A singer like the birds) when wandering 
 Through woods at dawn in some old English spring,^ 
 
 E 2 
 
52 Manhood and Womanhood's Inheritance, 
 
 in. 
 
 And the rooks wheeled up black against the sky 
 Cawing with busy clamour ; shrill and high 
 A distant lark rejoiced ; the redbreasts sang 
 Amidst the chestnut-snows and sparrows sprang 
 From bough to bough low twittering ; from tall 
 And sunlit limes, in soft aerial fall 
 The delicate scented blossoms waver'd down, 
 And sweet the tender grass smelt. From the town 
 A distant murmuring sound subdued and far 
 Hummed thro' the leafy boughs, but did not mar 
 The woodland sweetness — as we often hear. 
 Lying 'mid the mossy roots of some old peer 
 Amongst his fellow oaks, with nought else round 
 But waving ferns and nestled near the ground 
 Shy primrose tufts, a low, faint, soothing sound 
 Steal from some unseen hollow wherein moves 
 O'er pebbly channels and thro' time-worn grooves 
 With soft, slow, gurgling music a clear stream 
 Twisting and turning like a silver gleam. 
 
 IV. 
 But with the gladness was a mingled pain 
 That stayed the longer : and sad thoughts again 
 
Manhood and Womanhood's Inheritance. 53 
 
 Linger'd like guests unwelcome in his brain. 
 
 Though fickle moods seemed with him, moods that 
 
 ranged 
 From sadness into brightness, for there changed 
 Often upon his face for a little while 
 The wearied look for a remembering smile 
 Of something pleasant — wordless memories 
 That brought a shining softness to his eyes. 
 
 " Five years ago I thought the world lay wide 
 
 Before my youth, and that the first spring-tide 
 
 Would bear me on to fortune. As then, still 
 
 The world is — but the world is oped by will 
 
 And not by hope. And when I lightly drew 
 
 My anchor from the old tried faiths, I knew 
 
 But little of the yawning delths that roll / r 
 
 With dreadful power around the labouring soul 
 
 That seeks but finds no haven. All seem'd straight 
 
 And easy to o'ercome, and fortunate fate 
 
 To be assured : too fortunate, alas I 
 
 F'or each of these five useless periods was 
 
 To me a snare, and with each month therein 
 
 I dallied, thinking I might haste and win 
 
54 Manhood and Womanhood^ s Inheritance. 
 
 The work that makes true manhood noble when 
 
 My spirit should say now ! Thus was it then, 
 
 And so it is even yet. Drifted about 
 
 By this view or by that, each put to rout 
 
 By every phase successive — ^with no aim 
 
 Of definite purpose, yet desiring fame 
 
 In whatsoever thing I undertook 
 
 I might have guessed that failure would outlook 
 
 My path all round. And yet I know that I 
 
 Have gifts beyond the accomplishments that lie 
 
 Within the grasp of most ; art/as to me ^ 
 
 Been ever a fair dream : it now shall be / 
 
 Something beyond the pleasure of an hour. 
 
 Let me work out my manhood thus, with pow'r 
 
 Such as I have, and give to it my heart 
 
 And soul : for true laborious work's the part 
 
 And portion of each man, and he who shirks 
 
 Labour of hand and mind, and feebly lurks 
 
 In weary and empty bye ways of his life 
 
 Moves ever backward. For in steadfast strife 
 
 And upward toil alone can there be found 
 
 That which each soul to fuller life shall round." 
 
 AS 
 
Manhood and Womanhood's Inheritance, 55 
 
 VI. 
 Hark, the wild thrush notes once again ! He heard 
 The full soul singing right o'erhead, and stirred 
 No further step, but listen'd with rapt ears 
 And thrilling sense : even as in old years 
 Long past the young Marsyas might have stood 
 And hearken'd such an one fill all the wood 
 With matchless music, learning thence the song 
 Of fluted notes he would regret ere long. 
 
 VII. 
 
 It ceased, song being at last expressionless, 
 
 And onward Arnold went, with on his face 
 
 The sunshine of some inner pleasantness. 
 
 His thoughts had backward flown to where last night 
 
 From out the throng of dancers on his sight 
 
 One face had fixt itself, passing him by 
 
 Unconscious, — as a dream mysteriously 
 
 Bears sometimes from the haunted lands of sleep 
 
 A wonderful vision with dark and deep 
 
 Presageful eyes, and face that doth inherit 
 
 All man's lost dreams of beauty, pale brows lit 
 
 As by some inner radiance, and a mouth 
 
56 Manhood and Womanhood^s Inheritance. 
 
 Wreath'd with such h*ps as hers who in the South 
 Long since Troy razed and wasted for a kiss — 
 Swims from the depths of sleep, but ere the bliss 
 Groweth real fades silently away 
 As into night melts twilight wan and grey, 
 So that the soul but faint remembrance has 
 When morning comes. Beneath him on the grass 
 He saw the upturn'd face and the deep eyes 
 Wherein love brooded half awake : the skies, 
 Smiling on summer with a languid peace, 
 Held it within their depths ; and 'mid the trees 
 Shadowed by waving boughs, he saw it move 
 And vanish — a will-o'-the-wisp of love. 
 
 VIIL ' 
 
 And ever and again within his mind 
 The hours of the past night relived — the wind 
 Singing an undertone wherein the word 
 " Lilian " rose and fell, as the sea is stirred 
 By tidal heaves at ninth-wave intervals. 
 He stood within the flashing mirror'd walls 
 And watched the dancers pass, until that face 
 Glanced close to his with its supreme sweet grace 
 Of loveliness — and then as one whose eyes 
 
Manhood and Womanhood's Inheritance, 57 
 
 Watch the long purple line of land arise 
 Out of the seas after a weary time 
 Of tossing to and fro in a bitter clime, 
 So kept his gaze transfix'd where'er she went. 
 At last the time came when his head he bent 
 Before her, and heard spoken the sweet name 
 That now the wind repeated. A soft shame 
 Flushed the pale delicate face, as a white rose 
 Were crimsoning beneath the kiss of June^ 
 Being conscious of his furtive eyes ; and soon 
 They left the crowded rooms, and in a cool 
 Green-leaved recess, where/in a little pool 
 Fern-fringed and rock-girt, with a gentle sway 
 Of sound a sheeny fountain splashed alway, 
 They sat unseen of any. Something strange 
 Had come to him ; he knew not what, some change 
 That brought a thrilling sense of a delight 
 Of imminent revealment, while the night 
 Seemed some prolonged enchantment leading on 
 To joys expectant afar off. Upon 
 His ears the blent strains of the music fell 
 With hushful sound, and o'er his soul a spell 
 Seemed cast, sweet as on fields of asphodel 
 Shadowed by palms of Paradise doth steep 
 Each new-come spirit in a joy of sleep. 
 
58 Manhood and Womanhood's Inheritance. 
 
 IX. 
 
 They err who say that love must be of slow 
 
 And well-proved growth — as if the heart must glow 
 
 Alone as the fanned flames of a slow fire. 
 
 Love ofttimes springs, clothed with a wild desire, 
 
 And takes the reins of life in hand ere quite 
 
 The soul hath felt the change ; and fills the eyes 
 
 With ardent longing and a glad surprise 
 
 And a strange light and rapture beyond speech. 
 
 One looks upon another, and for each 
 
 The past has suddenly grown old, a flame 
 
 Is lit within each heart, and a soft shame 
 
 Dwells in each look, and life yearns unto life 
 
 And all the world with hopes and fears seems rife. 
 
 X. 
 
 Before they left that night both eyes had told 
 A similar tale, and each stirred heart did hold 
 The rumour of a sudden happiness. 
 But few words passed ; yet love doth oft express 
 Himself in silence best. The casual touch 
 Of lace, or falling flow'r, or hand, — all such 
 Were ministers of love that sent a thrill 
 
Manhood and Womanhood^s Inheritance. 59 
 
 Through him, as o'er the brooding surface still 
 Of a calm sea swift airs go wandering — 
 And when his lips once said some little thing 
 And laughed, whereby his breath breathed on her hair 
 She flushed and trembled, and her bosom fair 
 Heaved with a quicken'd motion, a swift beat 
 That whisper'd something new and strange and 
 sweet. 
 
 XI. 
 
 At last they had to part, but when she went 
 
 He saw before him still each lineament 
 
 Of the fair girlish face ; and but one word 
 
 'Mid all the noise around his spirit heard, 
 
 The one word " Lilian/' And when far away 
 
 Her carriage rolled through the awakening day 
 
 And chastened sweetness of the dawn the air 
 
 Seemed full of music, and the wind to bear 
 
 On its soft pinions, as a bird might do. 
 
 The burden of his name whose love she knew. *^ 
 
 XII. 
 
 Hark ! hark ! O sweet and clear, again, again, 
 The over rapturous thrush with a half pain 
 
6o Manhood and Womanhood's Inheritance, 
 
 And half extremity of joy makes all 
 
 The air alive with song : with fluted call 
 
 The blackbird sounds his summons to his mate, 
 
 And the rooks cawing in the air await 
 
 The signal for their uniform ascent 
 
 To distant fields. And homeward Arnold went 
 
 With a changed life and purpose of his own 
 
 And the long follies of his youth outgrown. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Three months passed, wherein life at last was found 
 
 No idle dream, but ever steadfast round 
 
 Of labour — and where love half-guessed had spun 
 
 A weft of magic. Love indeed had won 
 
 His soul from sloth, and given to him a hope 
 
 That would not die again, but that would ope 
 
 The future to his arms : and love had brought 
 
 Each aspiration that he once forgot 
 
 Back to his mind once more ; and love each day 
 
 Was with him and his soul did sway 
 
 Hither and thither/ever tending higher_, / 
 
 And ever grew the strength of his desire 
 
 For her he loved, as a long trammelled fire 
 
 In mines beneath the soil doth grow and grow 
 
Manhood and Womanhood's Inheritance. 6i 
 
 Until at last the flames flash to and fro 
 
 Above the enfringing depths. She was to him 
 
 A faith, a hope, a joy, the wine at the brim 
 
 Of that which held life's last draught and supreme : 
 
 She was the moon to lead his waves — the dream 
 
 To inspire — the guide to reach the road — 
 
 The hand to slack the burden of life's load. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 Not yet had words escaped him — yet she knew 
 He loved her ; and her fair face daily grew 
 Sweeter with knowing it ; and her heart was fiU'd 
 With joy. And ofttimes bright -dreams she would 
 
 build 
 Wherein the two with wedded love would reach 
 To that which poets dream of when they teach 
 Love is the key of life. And so went by 
 The months, until the clear autumnal sky 
 Saw the oak change to russet, and the plaj^s O^^^Z //^ 
 Grow yellow, and the equinoctial rains 
 Wash the white dust from off the beech-tree leaves, 
 With heaped up here and there damp amber sheaves 
 Of elm and chestnut, and the sunburnt mould 
 Gleaming with fallen leaves of lime-tree gold. 
 
62 Manhood and Womanhood's Inheritance. 
 
 XV. 
 
 Both had been absent from the dusty town 
 
 Through the late summer. Where the diffs shelve 
 
 down 
 Most steeply to the surging Cornish seas 
 A little village lies, which the spray flees 
 Right over when a wild wind's from the west — 
 And there they both by chance had found a rest 
 FromAncaiy London for a time ; but soon 
 She left again, and then, as is a *Hse / / ^^^^ 
 
 With sudden discord filled, so seem'd the place 
 To Arnold not the same when once her face 
 Haunted the shores no more. Yet still he strove 
 To reach the secret that he sought,/and wove / 
 
 Upon the canvas a fair dream that would ' 
 
 Inherit all the passion of his mood. 
 So the days passed in work, the nights in dreams 
 Of love, save when the August moon's full beams 
 Tempted him forth to hear the night waves chime 
 Their inarticulate prophecies sublime, 
 And the sea lay his hoary head beneath 
 The shadow of the cliffs and faintly breathe. 
 So went the happy weeks until at last 
 He knew that he must leave : one night he passed 
 
Manhood and Womanhood's Inheritance, 63 
 
 Wandering along the ever-sounding shores 
 
 Rapt in sweet dreams — the next he heard the 
 
 hoarse 
 And constant turmoil of the streets. But here 
 He was near that which made his life seem dear. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 Cloudless the sky was, calm and soft and blue : 
 
 Cawing, the homeward rooks in circles flew 
 
 Above the lofty elms, and everywhere 
 
 The sparrows twitter'd thro' the warm still air ; 
 
 Eastward the chestnuts, cluster'd near the banks 
 
 Of the Long Water in irregular ranks, 
 
 Faded into a tender gauzy mist, 
 
 And the Pond deepened into amethyst 
 
 Bright with the mimic sails that flashed upon 
 
 Its rippling wash ; and a faint carillon 
 
 Of far-ofl" bells blent with the bleating cries 
 
 Of sheep and children's laughter. The flushed skies 
 
 Grew crimson with the splendour of the sun 
 
 Burning the west, and like a vestal nun 
 
 Pure, cold and white the crescent moon hung high 
 
 In the mid-heaven, and Venus' flashing eye 
 
 Watched from the dove-hued south half tremulously. 
 
64 Manhood mid Womanhood^s Inheritance. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 West of the Serpentine the beeches make 
 Cool shadowy haunts, wherein whene'er they shake 
 Their leaflets to the ground, 'tis like green rain 
 Waving adown from boughs where it has lain 
 Hid from the scorching sun — so cool and green 
 They seem a glade far in some woodland scene 
 Where the birds build and sing and never know 
 Disturbing fears/with near some streamlet slow 
 Meandering witn cool lisping sounds, where calls 
 The kingfisher by day, and when dusk falls 
 The moorhen, nightjar and the whistling bat. 
 And in the shadow of those beeches sat 
 Arnold and Lilian, listening without words 
 To the last twilight cries of drowsy birds, 
 And watching the flushed glory of the west 
 Halo the sinking sun that sought his rest 
 Where none could see him, and the golden flow 
 Raiment the palace with a tender glow. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 And when at last the highest elm-tree branch 
 Caught the last gold, and the small waves did blanch 
 
Manhood and Womanhood' . s Inheritan&e . 65 
 
 Upon the pond into a gloamy grey 
 
 And the last crimson cloudlet paled away, 
 
 Each turn'd to each, with gaze that was the gate 
 
 Where through their soul's speech went, confederate 
 
 In desire ; and then his hand took hers, and still 
 
 No word was spoken, but an equal thrill 
 
 Stirred every nerve of each deliciously. 
 
 At last he spoke, saying, " Lilian" tenderly, 
 
 " Lilian, I love you !" And beneath the tears 
 
 That dimmed her eyes he saw the promised years 
 
 Wherewith in love she dower'd him : and life 
 
 Seemed changed from night to day, to peace from 
 
 strife ; 
 And silence lay between them like a sea 
 Wherein two wandering currents suddenly 
 Meet and unite and no more separate be. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 Homeward at length they went when the dusk grew 
 By stealthy shades to-night. Each spirit knew 
 The sundering of self when a soul gives 
 Its best to another. The hour that lives 
 Memorial thro' each life that once has loved 
 Had come to them ; and as deep pools are moved, 
 
 F 
 
66 M mnk oo d ik Hi l Woinanhood'3 Inheritance. 
 
 Twin depths upon a lone hillside, and stirr'd 
 
 By the same wind, so at the sudden word 
 
 Of love both hearts throbbed wildly with the same 
 
 Divine emotion— thro' each life the flame 
 
 Already burn'd that yet a pillar of fire 
 
 Would be from out the wastes of low desire 
 
 To guide each soul to emprise ever higher. 
 
 XXI. 
 Before the leafless boughs beneath the snow 
 Dreamed of dead summers or the leaves that low 
 The winds had scattered were grown wholly old 
 And shrivell'd, and still some lingering gold 
 Shone palely here and there against the haze 
 Of rainy skies in bleak November days, 
 Their lives were joined in one, their streams were blent 
 In one seagoing river ! Forth they went 
 With hearts strung high and each soul confident. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 Twin married lives hence hand in hand they chose 
 Their paths together — fronting whate'er rose 
 Of evil or of sorrow on their way 
 With equal gaze : and ever day by day 
 
Manhood and Womuhhuvd'tt Inheritance. 67 
 
 Their great love deepen 'd, as a pine-tree clings 
 Still closer to the rock o'er which it flings ^ i^) 
 
 Its matted shade daeapifce/tis^ winds that \eat y -Ujic^^/i^ d 
 Its lonely height : and as the flow'rs make sweet ^ 
 
 The blessed days of Spring, that ever}^ year > 
 
 Seem to become more wonderful and dear, 
 So little joys and hopes made daily life 
 Seem fair to them, soothing the fret and strife 
 That is the heritage of all. Their love 
 Indeed was life : and dear the joys thereof. 
 Ah, love is not a seed blown heedlessly 
 By anJi devious wind across the sea 
 That hems us in ; a seed that in earth's womb 
 Grows till the day when in its perfect bloom 
 The sun's kiss warms it and its blossoms make 
 A fragrance for the wind to lift and shake 
 Along the tufted grass— till one day come 
 The frosts of winter when the birds are dumb 
 And the leaves fall'n and dead, when it is blowa 
 Seaward again from whence it once had flown, — 
 Blown hence by devious winds, rewhirled again 
 Back to the wastes amid wild wind and rain ! 
 Nay, love is not like this : it is the breath 
 That blows across the sterile lands of death ; 
 It is the wind that o'er the tropic seas 
 
 F 2 
 
68 Manhood tiud Wuinaiihuod^'s^ Inheritance. 
 
 Blows ever in a steadfast changeless breeze ; 
 It is not but a dream that in man's sleep 
 Dries up a little while tired eyes that weep 
 Then fades to let the weary day begin, 
 But is the goal that every life must win 
 Or suffer. Love is the immaculate wind 
 That blows across the drifted years behind 
 Our human course, and bloweth far away 
 Beyond the furthest beacons on our way ; 
 Eternal roundi our little finite day. 
 
 / 
 
 / 
 
CYCLE IV. 
 
 OLD AGE'S INHERITANCE. 
 
 ORTHWARD long leagues of plain, until 
 the eye 
 Grew wearied with a vast monotony 
 Like that of the far seas, long leagues of plain 
 Grass-cover' d, which for weeks and months had lain 
 Beneath the scorching of the Austral sun, 
 Thirsting with drought : beyond, the sands begun 
 And stretched a dreary dese^rt where nor beast 
 Nor man were often seen. Far to the east 
 Rolled also the long grassy plains, tanned brown 
 And crisp with heat, where the hot sun shone down 
 Day after day, with rays athirst to find 
 Some lingering moisture — where no cooling wind 
 Blew ever, save when the lamplike stars swung low 
 From the vast depths of heav'n, and rising slow 
 The moon usurp'd the night ; then ofttimes blew 
 
70 Qid Ag^ Inheritance. 
 
 A fresh wind steadily, that lately knew 
 
 The cool breath of the South Pacific seas. 
 
 West of the loghouse, gum and wattle-trees 
 
 Rose miles away, and miles beyond them still 
 
 Dim densely wooded ranges, hill on hill 
 
 Cover'd with mint and box and sassafras, 
 
 White stringy bark and the coarse upland grass. 
 
 Southward the ground shelved downward to a stream 
 
 That lisped through the rushes like a gleam 
 
 Of beaten silver, shallow, yet that filled 
 
 The sunken pools where rains of winter spilled 
 
 Themselves and were not lost : and overshore 
 
 The grassy plains^ but greener, swept once more 
 
 For half a mile, until like a green sea 
 
 They laved against a base whence solemnly 
 
 A vast and ancient forest stretched away. 
 
 About the house itself, rough-hewn and grey, 
 
 A lovely creeper, such as stars the trees 
 
 With large and yellow blossoms that each breeze 
 
 Casts like gold globes of fragrance o'er the ground. 
 
 Clung with a wavy tenderness around 
 
 The stain'd peeled logs ; and at one end there grew 
 
 An English rose that underneath the blue 
 
 Australian sky gave red blooms full as sweet 
 
 As the winds kiss in Kent, that loved the heat 
 
Qhi AgpU Inheritance, yt 
 
 Of the long day that on the log walls streamed 
 
 For burning hours. In front dark violets dreamed 
 
 Of their ancestral haunts in English woods 
 
 Where the thrush flutes his song and the dove broods 
 
 Through the green-shadowed noon ; with lilies, white 
 
 And holy as the shining stars of night, 
 
 Brought also o'er the seas from out the West. 
 
 Acacias shaded them, in one a nest 
 
 Where a sweet songbird dwelt and wooed its mate 
 
 Each spring recurrent with insatiate 
 
 Heart of music. A wide verandah ran 
 
 Round half the house, which, whene'er noon began 
 
 To burn the freshness up, still kept a place 
 
 Wherein cool airs might wander — with the grace 
 
 Of vine leaves overgrown, that large and green. 
 
 Made a soft, wavy, and delicious screen. 
 
 II. 
 
 This was the house which, after years gone by 
 In many wanderings underneath the sky 
 That held the Austral stars, John Armitage 
 At length had built for home ; here to old age 
 His last ten years had grown, and here he knew 
 That he would look his last upon the blue 
 
72 Old ApM Inheritance. 
 
 Deep skies he loved — not glad to leave the earth 
 
 Yet wishing not to shun the soul's rebirth 
 
 Trough the. dark womb of death. About him were 
 
 His children, flowers around his sepulchre 
 
 Of years — and like sweet youngling buds new blown 
 
 His children's children, who were yet his own 
 
 To love and cherish. Only she who bore 
 
 This noble fruit on earth would never more 
 
 Hear each loved voice say Mother, or take hold 
 
 Of tiny hands, or in her arms enfold 
 
 The weary one who slept. She who had been 
 
 His wife and friend thro' every changing scene 
 
 Had left him years ago, and in his eyes 
 
 TheAang Lane grfsf remaise^ till Paradise /iSi&^ ^^ 
 
 Should one day see the lovers meet again. 
 
 But full of peace he was, and the dull pain 
 
 Of loss beyond all words lay down so deep 
 
 In his soul's depths it almost seemed to sleep. 
 
 III. 
 
 Life still was full of pleasantness, of peace 
 And calm content : for when his years should cease 
 The record would go down of one whose life 
 Through all the stress and peril of its strife 
 
f}Jd AgP^ Tnh.Pri.fnnr.p. 73 
 
 Still stainless was, of one who bravely faced 
 The early dangers of an unknown waste 
 Undaunted through each failure till at last 
 The years that nothing brought but toil were past. 
 
 IV. 
 
 The summertide was full, and through the heat 
 The flowers gave up their heavy odours sweet 
 In rich comminglement, as fancies go 
 Wing'd and rich-hued for ever to and fro 
 Amidst the haunted silences that are 
 The realms of reverie, where, like a star 
 Alone in a wan dusk, the soul doth seem 
 The mystic dreamer or itself the dream. 
 
 Since from the wattles, at the break of morn, / 
 
 The joyous magpie sang its liking scorn / -^ 
 
 For those who waken'd not,* till now the noon 
 Had burned itself away and twilight soon 
 
   The Australian magpie is the sweetest songster, though within 
 limited compass, that one meets with in the Antipodes. 
 
74 OMH^=§^ Inheritance. 
 
 Would be the shadow of a finish'd day, 
 
 The old man had been glad, for far away 
 
 His flocks and herds were scatter'd o'er the runs 
 
 Far stretching, and to each one of his sons 
 
 He had apportioned out an equal share. 
 
 Feeling the burden of his years a care 
 
 Best lighten'd now. The busy day being done 
 
 He rested 'neath his vines, watching the sun 
 
 The deep blue of the sky to crimson change 
 
 And golden hang o'er the last purple range. 
 
 VI. 
 
 The heat still made a silence everywhere, 
 
 Save when, at intervals, the startled air 
 
 Shook with the laughter of the mocking-bird / 
 
 Strident and harsh : or when afar was heard 
 
 Once only the sky lyre-bird's voice from deep 
 
 Within the forest, where the stream did sleep. 
 
 VII. 
 
 And as a dream before him his past life 
 Moved in a vision — all the toil and strife, 
 Adventure, love, and sorrow, and death and all 
 That fate had brought : and heard dead voices call 
 
 ^^^ ^.w^^^ V^'" 
 
Old A-g^ Inheritance, 75 
 
 Like faint sweet echoes from a distant world. 
 
 He saw the day on which the sails were furl'd 
 
 Upon the ship that lay in port at last, 
 
 And how his eager wandering eyes were cast 
 
 Upon the new strange land : and how the days 
 
 And weeks went by until he sought the ways 
 
 That led due north thro' almost trackless bush 
 
 Till far from men, and still did onward push 
 
 Until before his eyes the unclaimed plains 
 
 Lay stretched for leagues, and saw the winter rains 
 
 Fill up the lonely stream with floods that would 
 
 Outlast the drought. And how the years went, 
 
 rude 
 And rough, but happy, often stirred and thrilled 
 With danger ; — till all things being fulfilled 
 That he had hoped for, one week he rode down 
 To the far distant port, already a town 
 Where he had seen but huts, and to his side 
 Clasped one he welcomed as his promised bride 
 Come over seas to join him. And how sweet 
 The after years slid by on rapid feet 
 Joy-wing'd : for ever their love grew and grew 
 From year to year, unchanging, deep, and true. 
 
%iA^c 
 
 76 QUI Agi^ Inheritance. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 And how at last a dreadful day there came 
 
 When she he loved lay dying, and the flame 
 
 Of life slow flicker'd to its certain end.. 
 
 Above the dear dead face his lips did b^end / 
 
 To take one farewell kiss, and then he rode 
 
 Far through the bush to bear alone his load 
 
 Of bitter anguish, and to let his tears 
 
 Flow for the vanish'd sweetness of his years. 
 
 IX. 
 
 *Twas the full tide of summer, and the days 
 Were sated with the cloudless, changeless blaze 
 Of the fierce sun : but close to a small pool 
 Of running water, shaded by the cool 
 O'erarching tree-fern fronds, they made a grave 
 Lonely and sacred as where sea-depths lave 
 The coral beds where pale drown'd mariners lie. 
 The vast primeval forest round — the high 
 Deep dome above, the wondrous stars at night 
 And the strange glory of the moon's soft light — 
 These watched and brooded o'er her grave, and kept 
 An endless watch above her where she slept. 
 
Old A^r^ Inheritance, 77 
 
 A lyre-bird sang a low melodious song 
 Far off, then ceased : a soft wind swept along 
 The lofty gums and breathless died away : 
 And Silence woke and knew her dream was day. 
 
 XI. 
 
 Hush, from the trackless depths comes what sweet 
 
 sound 
 Ineffable ! Do spirits underground 
 In hollow caverns ring phantasmal chimes 
 For elfin deaths in fairy sunless climes — e- 
 
 Or does some sad aerial spirit high / 
 
 In serene air suspend the listening sky 
 With sweet remember'd music of joy-bells 
 Changing for death ? Hush ! how it swells and 
 
 swells , 
 Still sweet and low and sad, — as tho' the peal 
 Were chimed in forest-depths where never steal 
 Sounds from the world beyond, and where no noise 
 Breaks ever the long dream. It was the voice 
 Of the mysterious bird whose bell-like note 
 Chimes through the Austral noon as church bells float 
 
78 Qi±:2i§gi£ Inheritance. 
 
 O'er lonely slopes and pastures far at home : 
 Sometimes but once it sang, as when the foam 
 On northern seas sleeps on the ebbing tide 
 And scarcely stirs the Inchcape's sounding side 
 To one faint clang : then ceased : then once again 
 Tolled out with silver sweetness its part pain, 
 Part reverie over some beloved thing : 
 At last it too was still, recovering 
 Some dream to brood upon with voiceless peace. 
 To each who listen'd there a calm surcease 
 Of sorrow came, and in each aching breast 
 There was a sense of toil foregone, of rest. 
 
 XII. 
 
 Before him these dead years and joys repassed, 
 Watching the sun go down. His thoughts at last 
 Brooded upon his spirit's imminent flight 
 From life, when unto him the eclipsing night 
 Would come with shrouds impenetrably dark. 
 Yet death he feared not : whether his soul's barque 
 Should sail the infinite deeps knowing no end, 
 Or to some far, far strand its course should tend 
 Whereon at last to rest and voyage no more, 
 Or whether it should founder ere the shore 
 
Siihsij^ Inheritance. 79 
 
 Of any goal be seen, he cover'd o'er 
 
 For ever by the waves of death, — not less 
 
 Would he thank God for the great happiness 
 
 Of having lived at all. Why should man seek 
 
 That which his soul might find itself too weak 
 
 To bear — God's own supreme eternity ? 
 
 Shall not the cycles or the aeons be 
 
 Enough for him, — his spirit find a goal 
 
 At last ? Nay, whether the tried human soul 
 
 Lives out new lives on earth again alone. 
 
 Or speeds triumphant far beyond the zone 
 
 Of that which we call Time till, aeons pass'd, 
 
 It finds its ultimate goal and rest at last, 
 
 Or whether it eternal is, with Him 
 
 Whom we half think we see, our eyes being dim, 
 
 It still is well. In each alone His breath 
 
 Would be the Lord of life, the Lord of death. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Such were his thoughts this last day of the year 
 Waning 'mid summer heats instead of clear 
 Cold skies and frost and icy northern wind. 
 At last the sun's flames burned right out behind 
 The furthest range ; a strange delicious blue 
 
80 OliLAgji^j^ nheritance, 
 
 Hung o'er the south and west, as spirits drew 
 
 Th^^ filmy veils of azure gossamer 
 
 Out of the depths of heav'n and trailed them 
 
 where 
 The great gu^as spread their branches thro' the air. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 But ere the short and shadowy twilight came 
 The bush was no more still : each tree became 
 Alive with sound, and the cool dusky skies 
 Shrill with the shrieks of parrots and the cries 
 Of crested cockatoos and parrakeets 
 In thousands, swarming from their green retreats, 
 With over all the hoarse and chuckling sounds 
 From laughing-birds ; and when with mighty bounds 
 The kangaroos fled far in sudden fright 
 There swelled the dingo's howl. In the cool light 
 The fierce cicalas whirred their defeaning noise 
 From ev'ry bole, and oft a querulous voice 
 Told where opossums hid : with resonant hum 
 The grey mosquitoes wheeled around each gum 
 Ceaseless and fierce : and not until had come 
 The night itself grew all the clamour dumb. 
 
The Human Inheritance. 8i 
 
 XV. 
 
 Slowly the vast round kustral lyiQon became , . / CdyvQ ^ 
 
 The glory of the night : and each a flame 
 Purple, or blue, or white, the stars hung low 
 From blue-black skies. Serene, and calm, and 
 
 slow 
 The last night of the year to death did go. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 And when the faint flush of the newborn day 
 Quiver'd above the wan horizon grey 
 And deepened tenderly, the soul of one 
 Whose years of patient waiting were all done 
 Greeted with happy gaze the glad New Year 
 Far hence. At last he now would meet the dear 
 Expectant eyes, and feel the longed-for kiss 
 Once more upon his lips foretell of bliss. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 The rosy dawn still deepen'd steadily, 
 Till of a sudden all the eastern sky 
 
 G 
 
82 The Human Inheritance, 
 
 O'er brimmed with gold : and from a wattle-tree 
 A magpie sang the new year's jubilee — 
 High, sweet, and clear the silver music trilled 
 As though the singer's heart with joy was overfilled. 
 
THE NE W HOPE. 
 
 (A VISION OF THE TRAVAIL OF HUMANITY.) 
 
 G 2 
 
k   
 
THE NEW HOPE. 
 
 |N these dark days of storm and stress ^rtd 
 strife 
 That wand'ring ^an, whom some strange 
 fate hath curs*d 
 With blinded vision 'mid the glory of life, — 
 Where the clear blaze of light should else have burst 
 Upon him with its splendour from the first, 
 Cheering his wayward path — still strives to find 
 Soul's egress from the gath'ring gloom behind : 
 
 Still strives, despite strange dreams that chill the soul, 
 And deadening weight of countless centuries, 
 And baffled hopes that lead to some false goal, 
 And mighty yearnings and triumphant cries 
 Drown'd deep amid unspeakable agonies, 
 And ages, breaking in a glorious dawn, 
 Setting 'midst desolation bleak and wan ; 
 
^86 The New Hope. 
 
 Still strives against the mist of some strange doom 
 
 That shrouds the universe to find a way 
 
 That, twisting thro' the stars, doth reach the womb 
 
 Of all creation, where the omnipotent sway 
 
 Of central life with unbeclouded ray 
 
 For ever triumphs, and the Hand that wakes 
 
 The spheres harmonic perfect music makes. 
 
 Dimly he knows an unremember'd past 
 
 Wherein he had an unknown birth afar 
 
 In those great deeps of time which reach at last 
 
 Those utmost years, when earth, a flaming star, 
 
 Quiver'd in heaven like a blood-red scar, 
 
 And the moon belched her fires, and higher spun 
 
 The huge mass of th' intolerable sun. 
 
 Deep in the dark abyss of primal years 
 
 He shudder'd into life, and groped with hands 
 
 Uncertain up creation's gradual tiers 
 
 Until a day when sovereign he stands 
 
 And knows for his the mighty youthful lands, 
 
 And views the seas break with an alien roar. 
 
 But laughs and names them his for evermore. 
 
 Dimly in vague uncertain dreams he knows 
 
The New Hope, 87 
 
 How long unnumber'd centuries have rolled 
 Above him with their tide of savage woes, 
 Dim years, whose hoary memories enfold 
 Strange secrets mortal tongue hath never told — 
 Beginnings vast, portentous, and sublime 
 With Titan-struggles towards a fuller time. 
 
 And later still, but not less vague, he dreams 
 
 Of elder days in the vast Asian plain 
 
 Fed by the waters of forgotten streams, 
 
 When tribal hordes appeared and gather'd grain 
 
 Where only desert sands before had lain ; 
 
 Till, growing to mighty hosts, they spread to where, 
 
 Southward and westward, new lands seem'd more fair. 
 
 Where in those dim and twilight lands the soul 
 Woke slowly to the secret of the stars, 
 Till Godhood shone from midnight pole to pole ; 
 And in the fiery flash of burning Mars 
 Prophets beheld God's summons to new wars, 
 And every circling moon that made the plains 
 Whiter than snow heard the wild priests' refrains, 
 
 Wild songs of warlike worship, and swift prayer 
 Snatching at hope, and burning sacrifice, 
 
m The New Hope. 
 
 And maidens with their wealth of desert hair 
 About them floating, in their dream-fill'd eyes 
 The victim ecstasy when the deep skies 
 Rang to fanatic tumult, with sweet breath 
 Chanting the god whose secret name was Death. 
 
 When, 'mid the desert cities before dawn 
 The wild-eyed priests with long rejoicing call 
 Summon'd the faithful thro' the silent, wan, 
 Grey, twilight morning to the eastern wall 
 To wait, till one great moment saw them fall 
 Prostrate in worship, — and above the sands 
 The sun-god rose with blessing for all lands. 
 
 Dimly man these remembers : scarce less faint 
 The solemn morning of Egyptian years ; 
 The long lost glory and the deathless taint 
 Of lustful Pharaohs, and the countless tears 
 That fed the Nile from unremember'd biers 
 Of sun-scorched, whip-lashed slaves, by whose death- 
 toil 
 The slow wise Sphinxes crown'd the barren soil/ 
 
 To look for aye with superhuman gaze 
 Across th' inhabitable waste of sand. 
 
The New Hope, 89 
 
 And see, mayhap, far off these latter days,-^ 
 
 And, farther still, some mighty moulding Hand 
 
 Shape the predestined fate of every land — 
 
 And seeing, speak not — only, far off, where 
 
 The sands fade wave-like, watch with steadfast stare : 
 
 And far removed from all the busy strife 
 Of populous cities dwelling by the Nile, 
 How the great pyramids, through human life 
 Incalculable, 'neath the cold calm smile 
 Of Ramses, grew, and watch'd mile after mile 
 Whiten each year with myriad human bones, 
 And heard whole generations pass in groans. 
 
 Faintly afar he hears the throbbing chant 
 
 Of worshippers by old forgotten fanes, 
 
 Harsh cymbals clashing, and fierce breaths thait pant 
 
 From dusky maidens madden'd by wild strains — 
 
 Tall brown-skinned maidens from the burning plains, 
 
 With breasts sun-moulded, and with shadowy eyes 
 
 Inheritors of Egypt's mysteries. 
 
 Where swart Assyria swelters 'neath the sun 
 He lists the anguish of the priests of Baal ; 
 He sees the chamber sacred unto OnCy 
 
go The New Hope. 
 
 Where daily sounds a low ecstatic wail 
 From maiden beautiful, rapt, naked, pale — 
 The bride of God — yet yearning with fierce, fire 
 For mortal love's unsatisfied desire : 
 
 As in a dream he sees tumultuous hosts 
 Spread locust-wise o'er devastated lands. 
 And swarthy warriors bathe by Red Sea coasts : 
 He hears the clamour of battle on the sands. 
 And the swords swing in fierce delirious hands, 
 And in the purple air sees pennons fly 
 Scarlet, as dipped in blood of those that die. 
 
 Dimly these bygone memories return, 
 
 As to the full-grown man the faint far days 
 
 Of childhood in his recollection burn 
 
 Faint as the glow-worm's lamp on moonlit wa\li^— 
 
 A few brief visions cross again his gaze, 
 
 But still the silent ages that have been. 
 
 Silent remain behind an unpierced screen. 
 
 At times his eyes in backward vision strained 
 Behold more clear the phantoms of the past. 
 When mighty kings of shadowy memories reigned 
 And each great teacher's utterance was cast 
 
The New Hope. 91 
 
 Like seed abroad — as fruitful seed to last 
 From scatter'd sowing till maturing days 
 Found golden-fruited boughs in every place. 
 
 His inward-looking eyes thus view once more, 
 
 Where in the almond blossom scented air 
 
 The white pagodas line each river shore, 
 
 A vast assemblage list with wond'ring stare 
 
 New solemn accents fall from lips that dare 
 
 The wrath of troubled priests, — and the clear 
 
 voice 
 Confucian call, " No more in dreams rejoice ! " 
 
 Like far off swallows, striving rest to gain 
 In long pursued and ever fleeing spring, 
 Winging their flight o'er sea and desolate plain 
 From winter's frown to where glad song-birds sing 
 All day and night 'mid sweet lands blossoming — 
 So sped the mighty teacher's word-wing'd thought 
 Afar beyond where wrangling priests still fought. 
 
 For as a runlet bubbling from a hill 
 Struggles thro' moss and rocky channell'd steeps 
 Till one day all its waters shiver and thrill 
 As far below the shining ocean sleeps, 
 
^92 The New Hope. 
 
 And crown'd with spray with one great cry it leaps 
 From earth-chain 'd life to that maternal breast 
 Where every seaward river findeth rest : 
 
 So wends by slow degrees and tortuous way 
 
 New truth's thin streamlet thro' far scattered minds, 
 
 Till soon or late there dawns a pregnant day 
 
 Borne on the wings of revolution winds, 
 
 And the scant streamlet widening leaps and finds 
 
 Its waves wash fruitful teeming lands at last 
 
 And roll a highway to the ocean vast. 
 
 Or, deeper still, he sees that ancient Ind 
 
 Where empires grew, religions wax'd and waned 
 
 Leaving faint cloudy memories behind. 
 
 Till of these also no dim trace remained — 
 
 Till, like a wave that gathers waves, there gain'd 
 
 The mighty soul of Buddha devotees 
 
 From Cashmere snows to distant Cingal seas. 
 
 He views some silent windless twilight die , 
 And fade into a sultry moonlit eve : 
 Above, the purple shaded star-lamped sky — 
 Beneath, the Ganges, whose swift waters leave 
 An utter'd echo of old thoughts that grieve — 
 
The New Hope, 93 
 
 And, rising o'er the sands that shelve its tide, 
 Great shadow-haunted palms dream side by side. 
 
 Seated thereby, a man with far-off eyes 
 That pierce the darkness lying beyond death, 
 Speaks low with fervent words divinely wise — 
 And, as the final word he uttereth, 
 The silent audience, like a pent up breath, 
 Once more are conscious of the earthly air : 
 They look again, and Buddha is not there | — 
 
 He hath passed by ; and every conscious star 
 
 Leaps in the heavens as if his gaze to meet ; 
 
 He passes thro* the jungle, and afar 
 
 The tiger growls within his grim retreat. 
 
 But stirs not ; the immeasurably sweet 
 
 And midnight music of the nightingale 
 
 In quivering worship greets him sad and pale. 
 
 Godhood is visible to natural things 
 
 More clear than to the soul — the woods that dream 
 
 Become vast choirs shaking their green-branch'd 
 
 wings 
 Angelic, and every forest stream 
 Lifts up its chiming murmurs, and the gleam 
 
94 The New Hope. 
 
 That is earth's smile grows more divinely bright, 
 Burning with fire of spiritual light. 
 
 The many colour'd memories that haunt 
 The long-undwelt-in mansions of man's mind 
 Point westward now : across the Hellespont 
 His spirit strives the chain'd past to unbind ; 
 Palm-shadow'd mystic Ind grows faint behind, 
 And, rising over the rejoicing sea, 
 Greece, sun-crown'd, stands — serene, and great, and 
 free : 
 
 The storied fame of all the old-world hills 
 Is made apparent : double peak'd Parnassus 
 Doth skyward dream, the white air slowly fills 
 With sweet blown scents from off Pentelicus, 
 And the bees hum in violet-loved Hymettus, 
 Olympus guards green Tempe, and the dawn. 
 Rests like a band of gold on Helicon. 
 
 Clearest he sees the sovereign city rise, 
 Queenlike and glorious in her ancient state : 
 The Parthenon, supreme beneath the skies ; 
 The marble-pillar'd theatre where the great 
 Thunder of ^Eschylus bared the vault of Fate ; 
 
The New Hope. 95 
 
 And, with a deathless splendour such as his, 
 The flow'r-like glory of the Acropolis. 
 
 As one who dreams, and sees a great fair land 
 
 Spread out before him, watching with pleasAVd ^ 
 
 eyes 
 Mountain, and stream, and forest ever fann'd 
 By exile minstrel winds from the blue skies. 
 And far seas moaning for lost Paradise 
 In sad eternal music (for these keep 
 That deathless secret in their utmost deep) — 
 
 Starts suddenly, and sees a face he knows 
 
 Grow into light that makes the rest a dream — 
 
 So, dreamlike, from man's vision backward flows 
 
 The old Greek glory, like a fading beam 
 
 O' the moon before the dawn's first amber gleam, — 
 
 And, fixt, his concentrated vision sees 
 
 The broad brows of the clear-eyed Socrates. 
 
 Seated amid great dusky olive shades. 
 
 That move reluctant 'neath the breathless trees 
 
 Till 'mid wild rose and honeysuckle glades 
 
 They hide and dream, and fann'd by the cool breeze 
 
 That from the white foam- crested sounding seas 
 
g6 The New Hope. 
 
 Bloweth with briny odours, he doth rest 
 
 And muse on life and death — and which is best,.- 
 
 The great wind of the human spirit blew 
 
 Thro' this Greek soul, which organ-like gave birth 
 
 To clear majestic notes of music new, 
 
 And, from the old compound of sorrow and mirth, 
 
 Wrought a new scheme of God, and man, and 
 
 earth : 
 Through him it blew such mighty harmonies 
 His voice still sounds adown the centuries. 
 
 The weary soul of man finds rest in these. 
 The lives he lived to in his earliest days, — 
 Whether his wing'd thought with brave pinions flees 
 To that far past half lost to human gaze 
 When the soul of Egypt, weary with men's frays 
 And blood and anguish, hid with all her lore 
 In the great Sphinx she stares from evermore — 
 
 Or whether, later still (and like the dove 
 From seas alighting on green olive boughs) 
 Resting with him whose heart of boundless love 
 Made all the Orient echo with its vows-^ 
 Or circling round the fate-confronting brows 
 
The New Hope. 97 
 
 (A swallow finding spring) of him who drank 
 With cheerful soul the cup of hemlock rank. 
 
 These bring him peace, these names awaken hope / 
 
 But still his spirit knows another name : 
 
 A later star this rose upon life's slope, 
 
 Later, but fuller ; yet the Syrian's fame 
 
 Rose from an unknown birth, a death of shame 
 
 Rounded it off — and though he is long dead 
 
 His voice still peals like thunder overhead. 
 
 Man feels him still, and knows him not a dream 
 Dreamt in forgotten days— no empty breath 
 Blown out with unheld meanings, but a stream 
 As of white light upon black seas of death — 
 Or as a glad great living voice that saith 
 The one word Water, where 'mid burning sands 
 Men famish'd yearn with scorched beseeching 
 hands. 
 
 He still is part man's present. It may be 
 The unborn years slow forming in Time's womb 
 Shall rise and live and fade successively 
 And know him not, save as a prophet whom 
 Past ages worshipp'd as the Lord of Doom — 
 
 H 
 
98 The New Hope. 
 
 A bodiless echo sounding thro' all time 
 
 Sonne meaningless message that was once sublime 
 
 Thus may it be : meanwhile man's spirit is 
 
 A wind-harp answering to the Nazarene : 
 
 Man is a beach where the sea's mysteries 
 
 Are whisper'd low, or thunder'd through a screen 
 
 Of white mysterious foam — where God is seen 
 
 A waving arm about a dream of eyes : 
 
 A fluctuant sea beneath Christ's wind man lies. 
 
 The human soul still shudders with the sob 
 That thrill'd the dusk of drear Gethsemane, 
 The bitter cry no lapsing years can rob 
 From sorrow wedded to eternity ; 
 That garden dreamed a vast futurity, 
 That weary night, of fierce successive woes — 
 Of good men's scorn, and pitiless hate of foes. 
 
 Man turns with weary gaze and looks again 
 
 Into his troubled past : his tired eyes see 
 
 A calm shore fringed with dead wind- echoing 
 
 cane, 
 And tall flags swaying in hushful Galilee ; 
 A bittern booms his sad call sullenly^ 
 
The New Hope. gg 
 
 And, with an hourly pain, a plover's cry 
 
 Wails like a wailing soul thrust from God's sky : 
 
 The yellow moon, half drown'd in deep dark 
 
 blue, 
 With still remaining crescent curves a trace 
 Of gold upon the vast profound ; a few 
 Great stars, heavy with changeful sphere-fires, gaze 
 To the lake's utmost depths, and in the bays 
 Seem to lie panting, as when side by side 
 Great water-lilies move in a moving tide : 
 
 One sits on the dim shore as though his sight 
 Held not familiar things of wave or land ; 
 His eyes burn slowly with some inner light 
 Of scarce hid glory, and his listless hand 
 Traces his central thought upon the sand 
 Till the scooped grains read God, and then 
 Father, and Infinite Love, and /or all men. 
 
 He stirs once at the desolate bittern's boom, 
 And prays for man : when the wild plover cries. 
 His heart throbs with the mystery of Doom : 
 And when the windless twilight water sighs, 
 The tears grow slowly in his human eyes, — 
 
 H 2 
 
loo The New Hope. 
 
 He sees the scourge, the cross, the hyssop rod, 
 Death, and the grave — beyond, the glory of God I 
 
 Such are the dreams man knows have made his 
 
 Hfe: 
 And yet, his youth and boyhood past away, 
 His manhood finds him still at endless strife. 
 And life unrounded by a fuller day ; 
 Faiths rise, and live, and flourish, and decay ; 
 And, as a helmless ship by every wind 
 Blown here and there, so seems man's baffled 
 
 mind. 
 
 His years have seen him oft — as some tired ox 
 
 Stops wearily by some delicious rain 
 
 Of clear spring water hid by ferns and rocks 
 
 From the rough highway dust, and so again 
 
 On with long aching miles until its pain 
 
 Sinks at some similar fount one glad time more — 
 
 Cease from the weary road he travelleth o'er 
 
 And rest with such as Buddha, such as Christ ; 
 Rest with them, live with them, hope with them, be 
 A sharer in each old joy sacrificed ; 
 Think with their mighty searching thought, and see 
 
The New Hope. lOi 
 
 With their clear eyes beyond mortality — 
 
 Then suddenly find all things rain, and rise nT/ 
 
 And stagger forward blind-like 'neath blank skies. / 
 
 He hath been as a man with toil aweary 
 
 Yet mocked by baffling sleep upon his bed, 
 
 And sometimes eased with dreams wherein no cjreary 
 
 Phantoms of hideous days and years stain'd red 
 
 Stare ever at him, and no fair hopes dead 
 
 Rise ghostlike weeping, and no more in pain 
 
 Old aspirations move white lips again. 
 
 The fair dream stirs and fades away, as breaks 
 A soft young cloud before the ruthless wind— 
 And as the cloud in snowy feathery flakes 
 Weeps towards the earth for ravished life behind, 
 So the sweet dream dispell'd can no more find 
 Joy in itself, but melts in bitter tears 
 And is a dream no more for coming years. 
 
 Fair hopes for ever baffled, and the way 
 Of life as hard to climb ! — thus grim Despair 
 With fixt immoveable lips that never pray 
 Walks by his side unchidden : — ev'rywhere 
 The wide world throbs with life, the summer air 
 
102 The New Hope. 
 
 l^alpitates with the outsung souls of birds, 
 
 The milk-time lowing of the sweet-breath'd herds 
 
 Sounds from the meadows, from the windless fir 
 The cushat calls, and somewhere, as a voice 
 Heard in a dream, the cuckoo's note doth stir 
 The high-air silence, with a humming noise 
 The wild bees haunt the clover, and rejoice 
 The heaven-loving larks half lost to view, 
 Small founts of song in the still sea of blue, 
 
 And sea, and wind, and hill, and flow'r, and grass 
 
 Make up with separate music one great choir : 
 
 And then Despair says, " Fool, all these things 
 
 pass 
 To nothingness, as stubble in the fire 
 Doth wholly burn — and deeper still and higher 
 The woman Vanitas with blank cold eyes 
 Scans deepest depths and sweeps the utmost skies 
 
 "And sees nought there save ever day and night 
 A faceless ihadow move, that with cold hands 
 Incessantly draws back from the dear light 
 Some living thing, a bird from forest-lands, 
 A leaping fish, a lizard on the sands. 
 
The Neiu Hope. 103 
 
 A babe from its young mother, and the breath 
 From a great soul — and this, a*iti*Ajan, is Death!" 
 
 And at these words man look with tearless eyes 
 And hearkens with deaf ears: heav'n's song-fill'd 
 
 vault 
 Is loud with discord ; the divine surprise 
 Of the sun's advent hath some hidden fault ; 
 The mighty morning winds no more exalt 
 The wondrous regions that were once their own : 
 And, knowing this, man answers with a moan. 
 
 At times he turns and looks with steadfast gaze 
 
 Into the coward eyes of the drear shape 
 
 That with him toils the intolerable ways 
 
 And all the earth with hopelessness doth drape, — 
 
 And then the shadow fades, and swift escape 
 
 To all the glory and splendour of the earth 
 
 Man makes again — a veritable new birth. 
 
 And often now in the great peaceful calm 
 Of early mornings some faint distant song 
 He seems to hear — as though an echoed psalm 
 From heaven adown the gold clouds waved along ^ 
 Or distant angel-wings bore up the wrong 
 
I04 The New Hope. 
 
 And misery of the world to where griefs die 
 And wake in rapture singing through the sky. 
 
 He hears, and young hope stirs within his heart,, 
 A fledgeling bird that dare not rise as yet 
 On untried wings thro' the chill air to dart : 
 He cannot quite the bitterness forget 
 Of all the ended dreams that he hath met 
 On life's long pilgrimage — thus hardly dares 
 To hope again as on his way he fares. 
 
 But day by day the Christ-dream changing takes 
 
 A grander form : no longer in the past 
 
 The Saviour dwells — His voice afar off makes 
 
 A music deep, as of an organ-blast 
 
 Fill'd with harmonious prophesying vast : — 
 
 Twin souls divided, seeking each the other, 
 
 One calling God, and one crying ever Brother. 
 
 T^ new Christ leave^the starry fieldsyof heav'n 
 AnoS^rough the mis^ of space seek)^ still for 
 
 ma^ 
 At times s^e sign immaciWate 
 Then spiritualSyinds of yearnVng fan 
 Earth's mists awMe aside, and^o<^'s great pli 
 
The New Hope. 105 
 
 Urii^^ds in part a\Tioment to his "View 
 Then iSdes again in^the sky's signles^^ue. 
 
 Man's soul is as a pine upon a height 
 Fronting dim seas — at times each branch a lyre 
 Of morning music, when the golden light 
 Waves round its boughs with unconsuming fire, 
 And soft-wing'd winds re-echo the desire 
 Of each lark's song, and all the world seems fair 
 With the eyes of summer smiling everywhere : 
 
 And later, when the evening mists have crept 
 
 Up the steep slopes, it sigheth wearily ; 
 
 A slow sound breaks as though each tired wave 
 
 wept 
 A wailing child upon the mother sea ; 
 A cold wind strikes its chill'd wings suddenly 
 But doth not take the air ; and some vague woe 
 Through each strong bough doth with a tremor go : 
 
 Then comes the uigbt ; and the tempestuous deep 
 Lashes the height with spray, and wild winds cry 
 With dreadful voices — till its branches leap 
 And beat the air with suppliant agony, 
 While Death stares down from the deserted sky ; 
 
"106 The New Hope, 
 
 And somewhere in the darkness seems to grope 
 A searching voice that moans " There is no hope ! " 
 
 Thus joy, despondency, and deep despair 
 Alternate with him : yet each new year brings 
 A growing strength the ways of Fate to bear : 
 A great hope deepens with successive springs 
 That somewhere Truth, the highest angel, sings 
 A great glad song that, hearkening, man shall 
 
 find 
 His eyes grown clear, and be no longer blind. 
 
 One truth, more old than the time-honour'd hills, 
 
 More ancient than the hoary ancient sea, 
 
 Before the world was, or the sun that fills 
 
 The world with day, or in the vast, blank, free 
 
 Space of heaven the first star fierily 
 
 Burn'd thro' the dark and silence — one great Word 
 
 That spake, shall wonderfully again be heard. 
 
 Beyond the wheeling atom of the earth, 
 Beyond the utmost sun that lights this sun, 
 A vision of life in some divine new birth 
 Where seed of man and breath of God are one, 
 And the old blind groping is for ever done — 
 
The New Hope. lo*r 
 
 This breaks upon man's sight — his fret and strife 
 Sink at this vision'd glory of new life. 
 
 Beyond himself, beyond the human soul, 
 Farther than Christ or Christ's own farthest 
 
 love, 
 The source of life, that makes the ages roll 
 To vast sad music till at last they move 
 Crown'd and triumphant to new birth above, 
 Dimly man now discerns, with eager eyes 
 Lit with the light of some divine surprise : 
 
 And with the vision, as a tall tree sways 
 
 All blossom'd o'er, with mingled love and awe 
 
 His whole soul blooms into the flower of praise-^ 
 
 Not for the working of some great cold law. 
 
 Hut that great truth beyond the petty flaw 
 
 Of human doubt — that mighty love, whose breath. 
 
 Whose gift to life is never-dying death, — 
 
 Eternal change, no stagnant blissful dream ! 
 Forth from the life supreme man's spirit went : 
 He hath gone thro' the darkness till the gleam 
 Of light at last shines on him well-nigh spent : 
 llest shall he have, as earthly sleep is sent, 
 
io8 The New Hope. 
 
 To make new life more dear ; then onward still 
 'Neath the clear light of the omnipotent will ! 
 
 There is no deathless life — but blessed death 
 Kisses the soul asleep, that when at last 
 It wakes again with new triumphant breath 
 It heeds no more the weary toilsome past : 
 Thus shall it be until the aeons vast 
 Draw man so nigh to God no human sight 
 Can farther pierce th' ineffable great light. 
 
 Thus, dark and gloom behind, but light before, 
 
 Man takes new strength. The lights of past time^ 
 
 grow 
 Fainter and fainter, but afar doth soar 
 A vaster glory— as when from the low 
 Sea-wash'd horizon with a motion slow 
 The full moon rises, and each lesser star 
 Seems by a gentle hand withdrawn afar. 
 
MOTHERHOOD. 
 

 MOTHERHOOa 
 
 [ENEATH the awful full-orb'd moon 
 The silent tracts of wild rHs lay 
 Dumb since the fervid heat of noon 
 Beat thro' the burning Indian day ; 
 And still as some far tropic sea 
 Where no winds murmur, no waves be. 
 
 jr. 
 
 The bended seeded tops alone 
 
 Swayed in the sleepy sultry wind . . / 
 
 Which came and went with frequent moan / 
 
 As though some dying place to find ; 
 While at sharp intervals there rang 
 The fierce cicala's piercing clang. 
 
 Deep 'mid the rice-field's green-hued gloom 
 
 A tigress lay with birth-throes ta'en ; j 
 
 Her swaying tail swept op' her womb ^ /^^ 
 
 Ah if to sweep away tlic pain 
 
112 Motherhood. 
 
 That clutched her by the gold-barred thighs 
 And shook her throat with snarling cries. 
 
 Her white teeth tore the wild-rice stems ; 
 
 And as she moaned her green eyes grew 
 Lurid like shining baleful gems 
 
 With fires volcanic lighten'd through, 
 While froth fell from her churning jaws 
 Upon her skin-drawn gleaming claws. 
 
 :^ 
 
 As in a dream at some strange sound 
 The soul doth seem to freeze, so she 
 
 Lay fixt like marble on the ground, 
 Changed in a moment : suddenly, 
 
 A far-off roar of savage might 
 
 Boomed through the silent sultry night. 
 
 Her eyes grew large and flamed with fire ; 
 
 Her body seemed to feel the sound 
 And thrill therewith, as thrills a lyre 
 
 When wild wind wakes it with a bound 
 And sweeps its string-clasp'd soul along 
 In waves of melancholy song. 
 
Motherhood. 113 
 
 • VI. 
 
 Her eyes grew large and flamed with fire ; 
 
 Her body seemed to feel the sound 
 And thrill therewith, as thrills a lyre 
 
 When wild wind wakes it with a bound 
 And sweeps its string-clasp'd soul along 
 In waves of melancholy song. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Her answering howl swept back again 
 And eddied to her far mate's ear ; 
 
 Then once again the travail pain 
 Beat at the heart that knew no fear 
 
 But some new instinct seem'd to rise 
 
 And yearn and wonder in her eyes. 
 
 VIII. 
 Did presage of the coming birth 
 
 Light up her life with mother^^'■love, 
 As winds along the morning earth 
 Whisper of golden dawn above ? 
 Or was it but some sweet wild thought 
 Remember'd vaguely e'er forgot ? 
 
 \ 
 
114 Motherhood. 
 
 IX. 
 
 Some sweet wild thought of that still night 
 When underneath the low-lying moon, 
 
 Vast, awful, in its splendour white — 
 
 Two tigers fought for love's last boon : — 
 
 Tl^^ striped and fire-eyed terrors strove 
 
 Through blood and foam to reach her love ? 
 
 X. 
 
 Of how their fight so deathly still 
 Fill'd all her heart with savage glee ; 
 
 The lust to love, to slay, to kill, — 
 The fierce desire with him to be 
 
 Whose fangs all bloody from the fray 
 
 Should turn triumphantly away : 
 
 XI. 
 
 Of how at last with one wild cry 
 
 One gript the other's throat and breath, 
 
 And, with hell gleaming thro' each eye 
 Shook the wild life to loveless death ; 
 
 Then stood with waving tail and ire 
 
 Triumphant change/ to swift desire ? 
 
Motherhood, 115 
 
 XII. 
 But once again the bitter strife 
 
 Of wrestling sinews shook her there ; 
 And soon a little }^ewling life 
 
 Met her bewildered yearning stare ; 
 Till, through her pain, the tigress strove 
 With licking tongue her love to prove. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 No longer fearless flamed the light 
 
 Of great green eyes straight thro' the gloom, 
 Each nerve seem'd laden with affright, 
 
 The eyes expectant of some doom ; 
 The very moonlight's steady glare 
 Beat hungrily about her lair. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 A beetle rose, and hummed, and hung 
 A moment ere it fled — but great 
 
 In face of peril to her young 
 
 The tigress rose supreme in hate 
 
 And, with tail switching and lips drawn, 
 
 The unreal foe scowled out upon. 
 
 I 2 
 
1 16 Motherhood. 
 
 XV. 
 
 And when a mighty cobra, coiled 
 Amid the tangled grass roots near, 
 
 Hissed out his hunger, her blood boiled 
 With rage that left no room for fear, 
 
 Till, with a howl that shook the dark^ 
 
 She sprang and left him cold and stark. 
 
 xvi. 
 But when a feeble hungry wail 
 
 Smote on her yearning ears she turn d 
 With velvet paws and refluent tail 
 
 And eyes that no more flashed and burn'd 
 But flamed throughout the solemn night 
 Like lamps of soft sweet yellow light 
 
 XVII. 
 
 To where her young was ; where she lay 
 Silent, and full of some strange love 
 
 Long hours. Along the star-strewn way 
 A comet flashed and flamed above, 
 
 And where great waste/of solemn blue 
 
 Spread starless/sailed' the vast moon through. 
 
 ss/i 
 
Motherhood, 117 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 No sound disturb'd the tigress, save 
 Stray jackals, or some wild boar's pant 
 
 Where thickest did the tall rice wave. 
 Or trump of distant elephant ; 
 
 Or, when these fiU'd the night no more, 
 
 The tiger's deep tremendous roar. 
 
ii8 Motherhood. 
 
 PART II. 
 
 I AST, solitary, gloomful, dark, 
 Primeval forests swept away 
 To where the gum and stringy bark 
 Against great granite mountains lay ; 
 And through their depths the twilight stole 
 And dusk'd still deeper each dark bole. 
 
 •II 
 Deep in their pathless tracts there reared 
 
 A huge white gum, whose giant height 
 When winds infrequent blew^appeared 
 
 To brush the stars out from the night : 
 A mighty column straight and vast. 
 Solemn with immemorial past. 
 
Motherhood, 119 
 
 III. 
 And at its base upon a bed 
 
 Of fern-tree leaves strewn o'er the ground 
 A woman lay as though lying dead — 
 
 Dark, rigid, still, without one sound : 
 Her fixt eyes lifted not, nor saw 
 The great stars tremble in strange awe. 
 
 IV. 
 Couch'd near upon the tufted grass 
 
 Two wither'd long-haired women bent 
 Two dusky bodies. No sign was 
 
 Made ever them between, nor went 
 From swift, slant, startled eyes a glance 
 To break the spell of their deep trance. 
 
 V. 
 
 They crouch'd with heads bent down between 
 Thin, black, uprisen knees ; their hair 
 
 Hid their dark faces like a screen, 
 And, scored with thorns, their feet lay bare : 
 
 Hour after hour had watched them so, 
 
 Three shadows fixt in sphinx-like woe. 
 
I20 Motherhood. 
 
 vi. 
 
 At times some wand'ring parrot's voice 
 
 Clanged through the dusk ; from dead trees nigh 
 
 A locust whirred ^) deafening noise 
 
 And shrill'd th' opussum's frequent cry ; 
 
 And hour by hour some slim snake stole 
 
 Hissing from fallen rotting bole. 
 
 VII. 
 
 At last, above the farthest range, 
 
 The full vast motfri sail'd o'er the trees : 
 
 The dead-like woman felt some change 
 Thrill through her body : from her knees 
 
 Each shadowy watcher raised her head, 
 
 And stared with eyes of moveless dread. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Beyond — within the ghostly shade 
 
 Of mii i iunuilcil gums aglow 't4yyi'\M^ 
 
 With phosphorescent light that made 
 Each trunk burn taper-like, — bent low, 
 
 A savage, bearded/and long-haired, 
 
 Wild eyed across the pale gloom stared : 
 
Motherhood. 121 
 
 IX. 
 And when his shifting restless eyes 
 
 Caught the drawn woman's birth-time pang, 
 He shrill'd a wild yell to the skies 
 
 And high with tossing arms upsprang, 
 Beating with eager blows a drum 
 And shivering with some terror dumb : 
 
 X. 
 
 The listening women once again 
 
 Sojdder'd and grew more ^i\\ with fear — ^^^ 
 
 Not at the harsh drum's maddening strain / 
 
 But at the spirits that were near, ' 
 
 The awful souls of hated dead 
 That creep round each wild travail-bed ; 
 
 XI. 
 
 The white-eyed sheeted things that steal 
 Down dusky ways and lie in wait 
 
 And from the shade their death-darts wheel 
 And wreak unseen their deathless hate :— 
 
 For these the fierce drum clanged and beat 
 
 The summons of a swift retreat. 
 
122 Motherhood, 
 
 XII. 
 What strange thoughts wander'd thro' the mind 
 
 Of her who writhed in travail sore ? 
 As, bearing scents and sounds, a wind 
 
 Blows pregnant from some distant shore. 
 So may have blown some wind of thought 
 Memories from a past forgot, 
 
 XIII. 
 Drifting across her yearning eyes 
 
 Stray visions of lost happy days ^ 
 And filling with strange vague surprise 
 
 The dreary sameness of her gaze — 
 Dim sweet memorial hours long lost, 
 Scorched by long suns, numbed by long frost. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 But soon the wafted breaths that blew 
 
 From off the deep drown'd past were blown 
 
 Aside before some sharp wind new 
 Of sudden agony. A moan 
 
 Shook on her lips, and from her womb 
 
 A new life crept to outer gloom. 
 
Motherhood. 123 
 
 XV. 
 The watching women rose and went 
 
 With deft hands unto her : the man 
 Hush'd his tempestuous instrument, 
 
 And with fleet silent footsteps ran 
 To where, asleep in moonlight, lay 
 Some huts rough built from branches stray : 
 
 XVI. 
 
 And soon thereafter, in the light 
 
 Of the vast moon, the tribe stole out 
 
 And fiU'd with cries the startled night — 
 Till — with claspt hands and one wild shout, 
 
 They circled round the riven frame 
 
 Of her whose blank eyes knew no shame. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 But as some feeble strength came back 
 
 She stretched out thin and claw-like hands, 
 
 With eyes as one who on a rack 
 
 Yearns for mercy, or on strange lands 
 
 Lifts outspread arms towards his own — 
 
 So yearn 'd she with a mother's moan. 
 
.124 Motherhood. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 Within her famish'd eyes no more 
 The hunger of the body burned, 
 
 But on the fruit her womb long bore 
 Their light unspeakable was turned : 
 
 And all the hunger of her love 
 
 Lightened the child's eyes from above. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 Vast, solitary, glooniful, dark, 
 Primeval forests swept away 
 
 To where the gum and stringy bark 
 Against the granite mountains lay : 
 
 Till, as the great moon grew more wan . 
 
 Stirred the first heart-beats of the dawn. 
 
 XX. 
 And o'er the pathless tracts where reared 
 
 The huge white gum, whose boughs had seen 
 The woman's birththroes, light appeared 
 
 And lit its leaves with golden green, 
 And shone upon the straight trunk vast, 
 Solemn with immemorial past. 
 
Motherhood. 
 
 125 
 
 PART III. 
 
 AINT scent of lilies filled the room, 
 Hush'd in sweet silence and asleep 
 Within the dim delicious gloom : 
 No windy lamp-flame strove to leap 
 Amidst the moveless shade, but faint 
 A soft light burned from censer quaint. 
 
 And dimly through the gloom loomed large 
 A carven bed that seem'd to sail 
 
 Like ghost of some great funeral barge 
 'Mid shadow seas no men might hail — 
 
 Till from its depths suffused with flight 
 The wan sheet/dreamed to gleaming white. 
 
126 Motherhood, 
 
 III. 
 And lo, half hid, like some white flow'r 
 
 Breasting the driven snow, there lay- 
 Expectant of the awful hour 
 
 A waiting girl, who, far away 
 Beyond where vision reacheth, gazed 
 With eyes by some strange glory dazed. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Like two strange dreams they were, wherein 
 Played subtle lights of other life. 
 
 Deep depths, scarce cognisant of sin . 
 Serene, beyond all clamorous strife — 
 
 Two seas unsoundable as night 
 
 Yet lit/witn\to utmost depths.light. 
 
 V. 
 Silent she lay, as one who low 
 
 In some dim vast deserted nave 
 Bends rapt in mingled love and woe 
 
 While the wild passionate sweeping wave 
 Of organ music sweeps and rolls, — 
 The burden of all suffering souls. 
 
Motherhood, 127 
 
 VI. 
 
 Silent she lay, for as a palm 
 
 Within a thirsty desert feels 
 A low wind break the deathly calm 
 
 And drinks each rain-drop as it steals 
 Between its dry parch'd leaves, so she 
 Felt God's breath fill her fitfully. 
 
 VII. 
 
 The soft low wind of life divine 
 
 Entered the darkened womb, and there 
 
 It cleft the mystic bands that twine 
 JThe folded bud of childhood fair, 
 
 Which, as an open'd, lily, fell 
 
 From death to life's strange miracle. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 \ perfect bud of human flow'r 
 
 Immaculately sweet and pure. 
 Shall God's first influence in this hour 
 
 Through all thy coming life endure, 
 And thou expand to perfect bloom 
 Untouched by crash of neighbouring doom } 
 
128 Motherhood. 
 
 IX. 
 Or, O sweet perfect human bud ^ 
 
 Shall rains thee dash, and wild winds sweep 
 Thy fair head to the mire and mud 
 
 And, with praying hands, thy mother weep 
 Such tears of anguish as no pain 
 Shall ever wring from her again ? 
 
 Soft, soft, the wind of life doth breathe :- 
 Some angel surely fans the while 
 
 The faint new litten spark beneath. 
 And prayeth with a piteous smile 
 
 That it may live, and living be 
 
 A victor 'midst humanity. 
 
 XL 
 Silent she lay who soon should give 
 
 This life to life : her secret thought 
 Strove mid the happy pas/ to live 
 
 Again that day she ne'er forgot. 
 That day when her young love took wing 
 From maidenhood's sweet-scented Spring 
 
Motherhood. 129 
 
 XII. 
 
 "When hand in hand she trod the ways 
 Flow'r-strewn with him, and felt his eyes 
 
 Turn'd full on her with such deep gaze 
 Of love triumphant that the skies 
 
 Seem'd but a hollow dome where rang 
 
 Sweet tumult, as though angels sang : 
 
 XIII. 
 How the hush'd drowsy afternoon 
 
 Slipt through the summertide, till low 
 In the dark tranquil east the moon 
 
 Rose vast and yellow, and more slow 
 The flaming star that lights the west 
 Lulled the sea-waters to their rest : 
 
 XIV. 
 How in the bridal chamber shone 
 
 No other than the full-moon's light, 
 And how between the dusk and dawn 
 
 A wind of passion fill'd the night 
 And bore resistless soul with soul 
 'On to love's utmost crowning goal. 
 K 
 
Ijo Motherhood. 
 
 XV. 
 Silent she was, but as her mind 
 
 Made real once more that perfect day 
 Her body trembled, as a wind 
 
 Had blown upon her where she lay, 
 And in her eyes serene and deep 
 Joys unforgotten woke from sleep. 
 
 xvi. 
 As on a mighty midnight sea 
 
 Wind-swept, and lit by a white glare 
 Where intermittent lightnings flee 
 
 And deafened by the thunderous air 
 Split up with tumult, one great wave 
 Doth rise and scorn an ocean-grave, 
 
 XVII. 
 And, gath'ring volume as it rolls. 
 
 Doth sweep triumphant till at last 
 It thunders up the sounding shoals 
 
 Of stricken promontory aghast, 
 And leaves its crown of foam where high 
 The cliffs stare seaward steadily : — 
 
Motherhood. 
 
 XVIII. 
 So from love's throbbing pulsing sea 
 
 All lightning-lit by passion, reared 
 A mighty wave resistlessly 
 
 Of mother-love, which as it neared 
 Fulfilment broke in one f.lad cry 
 Of sweet half-wond'ring ecstasy. 
 
 ' ' XIX. 
 
 Hush ! the great sea is still, and low 
 
 The night-wind wanders ; hush, for calm 
 The mother waits the body's woe ! 
 
 Silent she lay ; mayhap a psalm 
 Of sacred joy sang deep within 
 The maiden heart unstained by sin. 
 
 XX. 
 
 Mayhap the inward vision saw 
 The unborn soul arise and stand 
 
 Great in a people's love and awe, 
 
 Crown'd not with gold by human hand 
 
 But sacred with the bays that wait 
 
 The victor in the strife of Fate : 
 K 2 
 
 131 
 
132 Motherhood, 
 
 XXI. 
 And, deeper still, beheld afar 
 
 The billows of the ages sweep 
 A mightier soul from star to star — 
 
 So ever upwards thro' the steep 
 Dim ways of God's unfathom'd will 
 But aye by fuller periods stilL 
 
So shall it be for ever : evermore 
 
 The mystic chain of mother-love shall twine 
 
 Around the world, and link these three again, 
 
(NOTE.) 
 
 The form of expression I have adopted for these Transcripts (the 
 following being but a portion of a series forming a kind of private 
 Liber Studiorum) is founded on the Tuscan Rispetto. " This," to 
 quote Mr. J. A. Symonds' definition, '* is the name commonly given 
 throughout (Tuscan) Italy to short poems, varying from six to twelve 
 lines, constructed on the principle of the octave stanza. That is to 
 say, the first part of the rispetto consists of four or six lines with 
 alternate rhymes, while one or more couplets, called the ripresa, 
 complete the poem." 
 
 In broadly adopting the rispetto as the most fitting means of 
 expression for my purpose, I have made the first part uniformly 
 consist of six octosyllabic lines, not with alternate rhymes but 
 rhyming a, 6, 6, a, c, c, and have detached the ripresa {d, d) there- 
 from, intending it as a rule to be the means of some supplementary 
 touch, heightening the effect by bearing in some way or other upon 
 the broad outline produced in the preceding six lines. 
 
TRANSCRIPTS FROM NATURE. 
 
 I. SUNRISE ABOVE BROAD WHEAT-FIELDS. 
 
 HE pale tints of the twilight fields 
 Have turned into burnished gold, 
 For waves of yellow light have rolled 
 
 From the open'd east across the wealds ; 
 
 While 'mid the wheat spires far behind 
 
 Stirs lazily the awaken'd wind. 
 
 A skylark high (a song made bird) 
 Sings as though God his singing heard. 
 
 XL THE STONE-BREAKER. 
 
 He stoops all bent and bowed and worn 
 With arm uplifted o'er the stones : 
 Each stone is as the poor heart's moans, 
 
 Each stroke one less to that drear morn 
 
 When he too, broken, cast aside, 
 
 Shall die with no one by his side. 
 
 The geW of the red sun makes all 
 The landscape one fierce lurid pall. 
 
136 Transcripts from Nature. 
 
 III. WILD-ROSES. 
 
 Against the dim hot summer blue 
 Yon wave of white wild-roses lies. 
 Watching with listless golden eyes 
 The green leaves shutting out their view. 
 The tiny leaves whose motions bright 
 Are like small wings of emerald light : 
 
 White butterflies like snow-flakes fall 
 And brown bees drone their honey-calL 
 
 IV. LIGHT OF THE SETTING SUN ON 
 MOUNTAIN-ASH BERRIES. 
 
 The flame of the September sun 
 
 Streams backward from its western bed ; 
 The countless berries overhead 
 
 (Above me where I rest) have won 
 
 A crown of glory such as shone 
 
 Never upon King Solomon : 
 
 O'er the horizon spreads a flood — 
 
 The selfsame hue — some dead god's blood. 
 
Transcripts from Nature. 137 
 
 V. PINE-WOODS. (Silence.) 
 
 Tall, dark, majestically stem. 
 
 With something in their solemn mien 
 Of awe, some sense in the deep green 
 Of life-joy never to return ; 
 Miles east, dark rain-clouds haunt the day- 
 Miles west, the sea lies cold and grey : 
 
 And overhead, suspending flight, 
 A goshawk hangs in the drear light. 
 
 VI. THE WINDMILL. (Gathering storm.) 
 
 Four huge black arms against the sky — 
 Still now, and waiting for the wind ; 
 No clouds in the blue night behind, 
 
 But faint far storm-mists trailed on high, 
 
 And in the east a shadow black 
 
 With fringes split like wild sea-wrack : 
 
 It moans, and surely moves at last 
 In travail with the rising blast. 
 
138 Transcripts from Nature, 
 
 VII. SEA-WRACK. 
 
 Across the grey sea-hollowed rocks 
 The waves with sleepy motion glide, 
 And in the long wash of the tide 
 The sea-wrack's brown and tangled locks 
 Sway gently as though nevermore 
 Wild blasts should rage upon the shore : 
 
 And now and then between the slim 
 Long locks the silver fishes swim. 
 
 VIII. THE BLUE HERON. (Solitude.) 
 
 Here sheer into the emerald lake 
 On either side the hills slope down, 
 In the long darkness of whose frown 
 
 Rarely the young lambs dare to make 
 
 Their bleating cries ; no sound is heard 
 
 Of even any wandering bird : 
 
 But standing on a great grey stone 
 A grey-blue heron broods alone. 
 
Transcripts from Nature. 139 
 
 IX. SHELLS ON THE SEA-SHORE. 
 
 A yellow stretch of rippled sand 
 
 Curved by the bay to two gold lips ; 
 Ah look ! the blue sea slyly slips 
 Faint frothing up the shingly strand — 
 Just takes the kiss, and then for fear 
 Reflows, but ebbs to reappear. 
 
 The sea-shells strewn around sing low 
 The secret sea-things that they know. 
 
 X. THE NIGHTINGALE. 
 
 The curving elm-boles meeting make 
 An archway, where the sun at morn 
 And, after dusk, the moon's white horn 
 
 Seem framed 'mid dark green leaves that shake 
 
 In little vagrant puffs of wind 
 
 Faint wandering in the wood behind : 
 
 Moonlight and darkness now — O hear ! 
 Thcjug-jug-jug divinely clear ! 
 
140 Transcripts from Nature. 
 
 XI. THE SWOLLEN RIVER. 
 
 Between the lush low-lying banks 
 The swollen river, dark and deep, 
 Hath something dreadful in its sweep 
 Just here, in melancholy ranks. 
 The shaking poplars stand and know 
 Some dim presentiment of woe. 
 
 O'erhanging weeds defy the wave, 
 Roses and lilies find a grave. 
 
 XII. MOONLIGHT AT SEA. 
 
 far eastwards broods a darkness black, 
 As black a shadow on the west ; 
 But sleeping on the heaving breast 
 
 Of midway ocean lies a track 
 
 Of glittering, shining, silver light, 
 
 A zone miraculously bright : 
 
 Hung as a lamp before God's ways 
 Xhe moon fills mid-space with her blaze. 
 
Transcripts from Nature. 141 
 
 XIII. A DEAD CALM AND MIST 
 
 (Towards evening.) 
 
 The slow heave of the sleeping sea 
 
 With pulse-like motion swells and falls, 
 And drowsily a stray gull calls 
 
 The very wail of melancholy ; 
 
 AH day the moveless mist has slept 
 
 On the same bosom east winds swept : 
 
 No breath of change in the grey mist, 
 Save just a dream of amethyst. 
 
 XIV. LABOURERS RETURNING HOME. 
 
 Across the turnip- fields green-grey 
 
 And ploughed up pastures, furrowed brown, 
 Now that the hot fierce sun is down 
 The weary labourers seek their way — 
 Down the rough road with sun-baked ruts 
 To yonder dismal straggling huts. 
 
 In this soft afterglpw each leaf 
 
 Seems quivering with some sense of grief. 
 
142 Transcripts from Nature. 
 
 XV. A GREEN WAVE. 
 
 Between the salt sea-send before 
 And all the flowing gulphs behind, 
 Half lifted by the rising wind, 
 Half eager for the ungain'd shore, 
 A great green wave of shining light 
 Sweeps onward crowned with dazzling white 
 
 Above, the east wind shreds the sky 
 With plumes from the grey clouds that fly. 
 
 XVI. MORNING GLORY-. 
 
 Amber and gold and amethyst. 
 
 And carmine shot with crimson through, 
 And, quivering in the tender blue, 
 The fires of Phosphor o'er a mist 
 Of wild-rose pink — and overhead 
 The immaculate azure far outspread. 
 
 The unsubstantial hills loom fair 
 In delicate shadows thro' the air. 
 
Transcripts from Nature. 143 
 
 XVII. DAWN AMID SCOTCH FIRS. 
 
 The furtive lights that herald dawn 
 
 Are shimmering 'mid the steel-blue firs ; 
 A slow awakening wind half stirs 
 
 And the long branches breathes upon ; 
 
 The east grows clearer — clearer — lo, 
 
 The day is born ! A refluent flow 
 
 Of silver waves along each tree 
 For one brief moment dazzlingly. 
 
 XVIII. GROUND-LIGHTNING. 
 
 The mountain-range in purple looms 
 From out the twilight-haunted west ; 
 Star-crown'd, far east, Schehallion's crest 
 O'ertops the night ; here, where there booms 
 The bittern's hollow voicing harsh, 
 Gleam blue, green, yellow o'er the marsh 
 
 Strange furtive lights : the ghosts they seem 
 Of lightnings that shall no more stream. 
 
Transcripts from Nature, 
 
 XIX. THE EBBING TIDE. 
 
 A long low gurgle down the strand, 
 The sputtering of the drying wrack ! 
 The tide is slowly ebbing back 
 With listless murmuring from the land, 
 And the small waves reluctant flow 
 Where the broad-bosomed currents go. 
 
 The sea has fall'n asleep, and lies 
 Dense blue beneath the dense blue skies. 
 
 XX. THE INCOMING TIDE. 
 
 Grey-glimmering thro' the dusky air 
 The spectral cliffs loom o'er the sea, 
 And up the strand tumultuously 
 
 The windy tidal billows tear : 
 
 How stern yon rock — nay, look once more; 
 
 The heedless waves above it pour ! 
 
 Borne inwards o'er the spray-swept land 
 In thunder booms the sea's command. 
 
Transcripts from Nature, 145 
 
 XXI. TWO OLD YEWS. 
 
 Here 'neath the shade of cloisters vast 
 Two immemorial yew-trees stand, 
 Like pilgrims from an ancient land/ 
 
 Long long ago in the dim past ' 
 
 They saw the mystic Druid rites 
 
 Appease strange gods thro' bodeful nights. 
 
 Their boughs dead centuries enfold — 
 Deathless they seem, tho' scarred and old. 
 
 XXII. PHOSPHORESCENT SEA. (li.) (^ ■) 
 
 The sea scarce heaves in its calm sleep, 
 
 The wind has not awakened yet 
 
 Tho' in its dreams it seems to fret, 
 For, ever and again, the deep 
 Hearkens a sigh that steals along 
 As might some echo of sad song : 
 
 Ah, there the wind stirs I Lo, the dark 
 Dim sea's on fire around our barque. 
 L 
 
146 Transcripts from Nature, 
 
 XXIIL PHOSPHORESCENT SEA. 
 
 CV)- [IL) 
 As when the face of one thought deaxi 
 
 Breaks into ghastly life again, 
 
 The sea becomes a fiery plain 
 Of flames, blue, yellow, green, and red ; 
 Each wave seems some drown'd mariner 
 Upheaved from depths that no winds stir :; 
 
 Surely the sea has long since died, 
 And now lies rotting, putrefied.* 
 
 XXIV. PHOSPHORESCENT SEA. (iX) {HT ■) 
 
 How beautiful ! the violet waves 
 
 Break upon orange-coloured seas ; 
 
 And at each impulse of the breeze 
 A green and crimson ocean laves 
 The ship's black sides : as wild and strange 
 As those swift lights that burn and change 
 
 In glory ere the Polar morn 
 Dawns on the frozen wastes forlorn. 
 
 * A repetition of the metaphor in lines eleven and twelve of page 
 24, The Human Inheritance. 
 
Transcripts from Nature, 147 
 
 XXV. MOQNTAIN MISTS. 
 
 As though the bleak and lonely hill 
 
 Were some drear desolate mount in hell 
 Where spirits by some potent spell 
 Were forced to circle — damp and chill 
 The grey wan mists trail hour by hour 
 From crag to crag, and cling and cower. 
 
 From where the rain-cloud shrouds the peak 
 An eagle flings at times a shriek. 
 
 XXVI. MOONRISE (August). 
 
 The wheat lies close in cluster'd gold 
 Pale as the ore of Austral mines, 
 For just above the tree-tops shines 
 The moon, fuU-orb'd : within the fold 
 The drowsy sheep seem fleeced with snow, 
 And branches, swaying to and fro 
 
 In the fain£ wind, in radiance gleam, 
 Each turn'd to silver by some beam. 
 L 2 
 
148 Transcripts from Nature, 
 
 XXVII. MOONRISE (November)* 
 
 The first snows of the year lie white 
 
 Upon the branches bending low ; 
 
 A surging wind the flakes doth blow 
 Before the coming feet of )^ight — 
 Half dusk, half day, betwixt the pines 
 Green -yellow the full moon reclines : 
 
 Green-yellow, and now wholly green, 
 While faint the windy stars are seen. 
 
 XXVIII. MOONRISE (December). 
 
 The snow-clad fields are flushed with red, 
 As though the sun's last dying rays 
 Ensanguin'd them with crimson blaze — 
 For lo, in the wan skies o'erhead 
 The moon hangs as though dipped in blood : 
 And almost the stream's frozen flood 
 
 Seems like a wound that has just bled 
 Till now the earth lies cold and dead. 
 
   The phenomenal aspects of the moon described in these and the 
 succeeding lines were observed by the writer during a winter stay of 
 some six or eight weeks amongst the mountain districts of Dumfries- 
 shire. 
 
Transcripts from Nature, 149 
 
 XXIX.— PINES IN STORM. 
 
 Hark ! like a wild and furious sea 
 
 Where the bleak send and driving spray 
 Harrow the dying face of day 
 
 A sound swells up tumultuously ! 
 
 Amongst the pines the tempest dwells, 
 
 And swells and moans, and moans and swells. 
 
 Each pine, like some sad spirit, cries 
 Stricken and weary 'neath drear skies. 
 
 XXX. — THE LONELY LARCH. 
 
 Two cliffs stupendous frown upon 
 The sunless pass far down below — 
 Far down the hawks dart to and fro 
 
 Like flies within the twilight wan ; 
 
 And here, in the sun's sinking blaze / 
 
 A lonely windy larch-tree sways : 
 
 Sole living thing at this great height 
 It is the wind's sport day and night. 
 
 // 
 
THE TIDES OF VENICE. 
 
 ITH a soft slow gentle motion 
 Swings the slow tide from the sea, 
 Swings the slow tide hushfully 
 From the distant restless ocean, 
 Through the sinuous canals, 
 / Past the ancient wave-worn walls 
 
 / ^ That have seen the galleys sweep 
 
 ^ ^^ With great can^tainyof the deep, 
 ^^ ^ Fresh from where the Moslem calls 
 
 The Muezzin from the steep 
 Temple-domes that face the sea. 
 
 With a slow and gentle motion, 
 Like low breathing, ceaselessly 
 The tide steals from the ocean, 
 As a cloud that thro' the sky 
 Ever draweth, draweth nigh. 
 Though its white wings seem to beat 
 No wind that blows at all. 
 
The Tides of Venice. 
 
 But lie folded calm and sweet 
 By its soft immaculate side — 
 So moves the sleeping tide 
 
 Past bridge and palace wall. 
 And hung in purple heaven 
 
 God's footstool fill'd with light 
 And wheel'd by spirits seven, 
 Seems the clear soul of night 
 So pure, so soft, so bright — 
 
 The very soul it seems 
 
 Of Venice of the deep 
 
 Lying hush'd and still in sleep 
 'Neath the glory of her beams, 
 Dreaming, dreaming ancient dreams. 
 And like silver fires aglow 
 
 The panting planets shine 
 And search the waters far below, 
 The waters that with stilly flow 
 Come and go 
 
 Beyond the salt sea line. 
 A faint wind is playing 
 
 With the small sea-waves 
 
 Above the myriad graves 
 O'er which move swaying, swaying 
 
 The long green tangled reeds 
 
 T|pi 
 
152 The Tides of Venice, 
 
 And grasses of the sea, 
 And softly stir the slimy weeds 
 
 That cling to where the salt sea laves 
 The stairs of palaces that be 
 No longer great or free. 
 At times, the shadows leaving, 
 
 Black shapes leap forth and glide 
 
 Like great fish on the tide — 
 
 And singing side by side 
 The gondolier!, cleaving 
 
 With lithe and rhythmic oar 
 The waters slowly heaving. 
 
 Chant their old sea-born lore. 
 The old monotonous song 
 The tides have swept for long 
 
 Round the Adriatic shore. 
 The very soul of mystery 
 
 Seems brooding here alone : 
 
 Each bridge and pier and stone 
 Holds secrets of the sea ; 
 The slow tide hushfully 
 
 Moves with a scarce heard moan 
 And soft caressing motion, 
 
 For their past to it is known. 
 To it and the silent ocean. 
 
The Tides of Venice, 153 
 
 Hark ! from yon window singing, 
 
 Slowly, gently, singing, 
 A woman with a perfect face 
 
 Dreams out into the night, 
 Her low voice, bird-like winging 
 
 Faint o'er the watery ways ; 
 
 Fashion'd with flawless grace, 
 
 Haloed with tender light, 
 She seems some angel pure and bright. 
 The sweet voice swelleth slowly 
 
 With music rich and deep ; 
 
 Sweeter than when in sleep 
 The soul with earth-closed eyes 
 In a vision holy 
 
 Hears the strains of Paradise : 
 And gaining volume still doth rise 
 
 Till all the wild notes sweep 
 
 In full majestic song/ 
 
 The dim canals along, 
 And like a fading memory then dies/ 
 I know that voice ! 'Tis hers who came 
 To Venice with a singer's fame,] 
 
 A voice God gave her as a sign 
 
 He gives sometimes what is divine, 
 
 A face for Dolorous Mary's shrine/ 
 
154 The Tides of Venice, 
 
 All loveliness the tongue can name, 
 A mind impervious to shame 
 
 And spirit of a concubine. 
 The gondolieri, as they pass 
 
 Her palace, mark it with a laugh : 
 
 The gamesters turn and quaff 
 Their wine to her whose heart of dust 
 Claims kinship with their own coarse lust. 
 
 So fair, so seeming holy, 
 As wrapt in some pure dream 
 Where heaven more near doth seem, 
 
 While the salt-tides ebb, ebb slowly 
 With murmurs melancholy/ 
 
 O harlot ! is thy breath 
 
 But some sweet mask of death } 
 If this thy last great song should be 
 
 What shall come unto the. 
 
 Poor wreckage of life's sea ! 
 O Venice, art thou such an one, 
 
 Thou who hast been 
 
 Crown 'd as a queen 
 Amidst the nations ! Hast thou won 
 The saffron robes that mark the^lost,' 
 
 Thou'whom the blue waves tossed 
 Around, when all thy flags unfurl'd 
 
The Tides of Venice, 155 
 
 Waved defiance to the world ; 
 
 Whom the fierce Turk strove in vain 
 To vanquish ; who hast hurl'd 
 Thine omnipotence against the might of Spain, 
 
 Thou nursling of the wind 
 
 And playmate of the sea — 
 O ! is the loveliness we find 
 
 Still clinging unto thee 
 A bitter mockery ? 
 Art thou too dead and lonely, 
 
 Like her who ruled of old, — 
 
 \yre, crown'd with ancient gold ? 
 Or, art thou sleeping only 
 
 To wake some distant day, 
 To shake thy sea-blown hair again, 
 To snap thy rusted chain. 
 
 To see the world behold 
 
 The glory of thy sway ? 
 
 O city of the sea 
 
 Laved by the salt sea- tides 
 
 That daily ebb and flow 
 
 With long wash ceaselessly 
 Around thy wave-worn sides, 
 Thou art as she who sang 
 
 With angel voice and heart of dust V 
 
156 
 
 The Tides of Venice. 
 
 Thou too art cast aside of men, 
 Thy war-cries long since rang 
 
 Their last fierce clang, 
 Thou also art the sport of lust/ 
 As mighty Tyre was, when 
 
 Her glory was a thing 
 
 To jeer at, and the owlet's wing 
 Haunted her palace walls, 
 So shalt thou, Venice, be 
 
 When all thy great canals, 
 
 What all thy lords possess 
 
 And thine own loveliness 
 Are levelled with the sea / 
 Slow, with a steadfast motion, 
 
 The salt-tides ebb away 
 
 Sweep hushfully away 
 Towards the silent ocean : 
 Ere long the sea-line grey 
 
 Far east will shake with gold. 
 
 And Venice, weary and old, 
 Will see another day 
 
 Make all her beauty fair 
 
 In the blue enfolding air. 
 .Meanwhile past bridge and palace, 
 
 Past each carv'd wave-worn stone. 
 
 1 
 
The Tides of Venice. 
 
 157 
 
 With low incessant moan 
 
 The tide flows forth alone 
 Its burdens to efface, 
 To whisper the disgrace 
 
 And all the shame and woe 
 
 To the sea where it doth flow. 
 O tides of life that wander 
 
 Led by some unseen hand 
 
 About our mortal strand, 
 As the salt sea-tides yonder 
 
 Ye, in your ebb and flow, 
 
 Gather our joy and woe ; 
 And in your swift retreating 
 
 Surge joy and exaltation, 
 
 The wails of desolation / 
 Great hopes in strong hearts beating 
 
 Tears, laughter, prayers, and pain,: 
 
 But ever back again 
 These come with ceaseless iteration. 
 O that your floods could bear 
 
 To some unmeasured sea 
 
 The long dull agony, 
 Grief, sorrow, anguish, care, 
 
 Steil fill men evermore, 
 
 Far from our human shore ; 
 
158 The Tides of Venice. 
 
 And bearing so could bring 
 
 When in your earthward flow 
 
 Instead of further woe 
 To each some fair sweet thing — 
 
 Some hope fulfill'd, some new desire, 
 Some rest for weary feet, 
 
 A spark of the immortal fire 
 
 Wherewith mankind can still aspire 
 
 To something nobler, grander, higher, 
 Some joy sad eyes to meet 
 Some message sweet. 
 Hush ! with what gentle swaying 
 
 The twilight waters go 
 
 As seaward still they flow ; 
 A new-born wind is playing 
 
 And singing weird strange runes 
 
 Out on the grey lagunes ; 
 And tolling to and fro. 
 With a music sad and slow, 
 
 A convent bell is ringing 
 
 O'er the cowled monks bent and singing 
 Through the sinuous canals, 
 Past the ancient wave-worn walls 
 With a soft slow gentle motion 
 
 Swings the ebb-tide to the sea, 
 
 Swings the slow tide hushfully 
 To the distant restless ocean. 
 
A DIALOGUE. 
 
 Nature. 
 
 Lo here, in this calm sea where no waves whirl; 
 I make some thought renascent in this pearl — 
 Must it remain and know no nobler sphere 
 Than twilight waters ever calm and clear ? 
 
 God. 
 
 i 
 
 Deep in calm seas quiescent let it lie : 
 Its pure perfection npne sfeall e'er descry 
 Save the omniscient omnipresent eye 
 That loves the secrets of the earth and sky. 
 
 Nature. 
 
 Beneath this vast and craggy peak there dwells 
 Long luUabied by subterranean wells 
 Of icy waters dark as darkest night, 
 A gem of wonderful translucent light : 
 
i6o A Dialogue. 
 
 Shall it remain unguessed, unsought, alone^ 
 A living heart in this eternal stone ? 
 
 God. 
 
 Nay, let some miner in the mountain's womb 
 Come on this ruby gleaming thro' the gloom : 
 Its place sufficeth not, it hath no room 
 To send forth rays, it seeks a nobler doom — 
 Yea, let it go, and feel a woman's breath. 
 And be the bale-star of a shattered faith 
 And lead a dying nation to its death. 
 
 Nature. 
 
 Lo, on strewn palm-leaves in this unknown isle 
 
 A new-born babe upon the world doth smile : 
 
 The mystic essence shines from out his eyes, 
 
 Pure as the angels without spot or guile — 
 
 Shall its soul now, while pure regain the skies ? 
 
 A 
 
 God. 
 
 Nay, let it know the wild free joyous bliss 
 Of morn and eve, of heedless winds that kiss 
 The dewy lips of flowers while still they sleep, 
 Of singing birds, and beasts that run and leap,- 
 
A Dialogue. i6i 
 
 Let him live out his life without a thoi^ght, yU/^ 
 
 A perfect animal, the soul forgot, 
 Until the cycle of his years doth creep 
 Closer and wrap both body and soul in sleep. 
 
 Nature, 
 Behold, within yon far off teeming town 
 A woman thanks thee for her life's chief crown, 
 A child is hers, whom all fair hopes surround : 
 Shall he not live and make his age resound 
 With wisdom long sought after, seldom found ? 
 
 God. 
 Let his unswathed soul come forth to me^ / 
 
 A spirit upon earth it shall not be. 
 I call for one to come and one to stay ; 
 For this to shine far from the light of day, 
 And this to dazzle eyes of men away ; 
 One shall return again to primal force, 
 Another shall attain an infinite course — 
 Yet all are as the same to me who know 
 The ultimate ebb of things and the first flow. 
 
 M 
 
1 62 Desolation. 
 
 DESOLATION. 
 
 COME from dark and tempest 
 
 From lands that know no peace, 
 From mansions where no stray guest 
 Of travail hath surcease, 
 Where grey wan skies of morning 
 
 Slow fade to nlnwer eve, ^^Aeyye/i 
 
 And echoing winds of scorning / / 
 
 Subside in sobs that grieve. 
 
 I stand alone and lonely, 
 
 And watch each dark day die ; 
 Night breaks again and only 
 
 More desolate grows the sky : 
 And while my heart grows faint then 
 
 With all its weary lot 
 The phantom shades of dead men 
 
 (To me dead) know me not. 
 
Desolation, ^^3 
 
 I see the long years creeping 
 
 That have not come to me, 
 The days thereof all weeping 
 
 With sad eyes bitterly, 
 And oh I know each morrow 
 
 That thrills with anguish low 
 Hath a deeper sense of sorrow, 
 
 Is crown'd with weighter woe. 
 
 M 2 
 
164 ChristmaS'Eve, 
 
 CHRISTMAS-EVE. 
 
 JNE eve, when the cold snow lay white 
 Along the silent street, 
 A little child, all clothed in ti^ht 
 And with a smile most sweet, 
 
 Did enter my dim lonely room 
 
 As chimed the midnight bell : — 
 " I am thy Life, thy Death, thy Doom, 
 
 For thee I entered Hell I" 
 
 " O little child," I said, " art thou 
 
 Some messenger divine?" 
 He pointed to his tender brow 
 
 Round which soft light did shine, 
 
 And there I saw a shadowy crown, 
 
 Of plaited thorns 'twas wrought, 
 And from each thorn there trickled down 
 
 A liquid crimson spot. 
 
Christmas 'Eve. 165 
 
 And while I looked he faded slow 
 And vanish'd from my sight : 
 
 Only the gusty wind did blow 
 The wild snow through the night. 
 
 And when in after-dreams I lay 
 I heard the white hosts cry 
 
 ^ Hosanna ! on this day 
 
 The Christ comes from on high i '* 
 
166 Life. 
 
 LIFE. 
 
 SWEET, sweet, sweet 
 Is life," a bird sang loud ; 
 And underneath a crowd 
 
 Listened with weary wayworn feet. 
 
 " How sweet, 
 
 O sweet, sweet, sweet I " 
 
 " O sad, sad, sad 
 
 Is life," a bird thrilled loud ; 
 
 And underneath, a crowd 
 
 Moaned also, with torn bleeding feet, 
 
 " How sad, 
 
 O sad, sad, sad 1 " 
 
SigkL x6y 
 
 SIGHT. 
 
 LOOKED in the eyes of a brute, 
 I looked on the face of a man, 
 A blossom, a flower, a fruit, 
 An insect, all links of a plan : 
 I gazed thro' the depths of the sea, 
 
 On clouds, and on mountains afar ; 
 And I saw the chain twine around me 
 And reach to the farthest star. 
 
1^8, Young Love^ 
 
 YOUNG LOVE. 
 
 JN a flower in a forest, 
 
 A lily-bosom'd flower, 
 (Where never windy tempest 
 Came, nor ever any shower) — 
 A golden hour of birthtide, 
 
 (The sky was blue, so blue ! ) 
 Left me lying 'mid a songtide 
 Of birds of every hue. 
 
 Upon the white flower swaying 
 
 I laughed and sang in glee, 
 Till the thrushes long delaying 
 
 Sang back deliciously ; 
 And the ^\ear white cloudlets sleeping. 
 
 Up in the blue, blue sky, 
 Seem'd downy cherubs peeping 
 
 Between the pine boughs high. 
 
Young Love, 169 
 
 A little wind came blowing 
 
 And sang a wild-wood song, 
 It whispered of the flowing 
 
 Of bubbling streams along ; 
 I laughed, and stood, and rising 
 
 Found I had two small wings - 
 So then I flew rejoicing 
 
 Towards the water-springs. 
 
 And ever 'mid my flying, 
 
 (A little cloud I seem'd !) 
 I heard a great deep sighing, 
 
 As earth in trouble dream'd ; 
 And when I reached the river 
 
 The sound more windlike blew :- 
 The glad stream lisped "for ever,'- 
 
 But the sighing grew and grew. 
 
 And as I laughed and wonder'd 
 Among the flow'rs and grass, 
 
 All suddenly it thunder'd. 
 The sunlight seem'd to pass : 
 
170 Young Love, 
 
 A great wind took and blew me 
 Across a grey wet sand, 
 
 And tho' I wept it threw me 
 Far from the joyous land. 
 
 And now the salt waves leaping 
 
 Pursue with hungry springs, 
 And baffled, blind, and weeping, 
 
 I beat my draggled wings : 
 This was the great deep sighing 
 
 I heard when I was young — 
 And now, wind-weary, dying, 
 
 My last sob-note is sung ! 
 
Dream Land. 171 
 
 DREAM LAND. 
 
 [OFTLY, hushfully, 
 Silently flow 
 Dim streams of sweetness 
 Thro' lands of woe ; 
 Hushfully, hushfully 
 
 Wash the cool waves 
 Thro' intricate spaces 
 Of sea-worn caves ; 
 And silently, suddenly 
 
 Gather wan faces 
 Long laid in graves. 
 
 Speechless, and yearning 
 
 O with sad eyes ! 
 And wan hearts burning 
 
 With memories : 
 Silently, silently, 
 
172 Dream Land, 
 
 GathVing around 
 From cool dark places 
 
 Of churchyard ground : 
 O the wan faces 
 
 Whose lips have no sound. 
 
 Hushfully, hushfully, 
 
 Strange rivers flow 
 Thro* silent lands 
 
 No- soul doth know ; 
 Peacefully, peacefully, 
 I Restful and slow, 
 
 Faint music of wings 
 
 On the tired wind doth go 
 Hushfully, hushfully. 
 
 Hushfully so 
 Whether with pleasure 
 
 Or woe. 
 
A Greeting. 173 
 
 A GREETING. 
 
 (TO E. L. H.) 
 
 IHE month, in whose warm heart is graven 
 deep 
 The cuckoo's farewell voice, waits behind 
 May, 
 Her frolic sister, who upon the way 
 Strews blossoms laughing : from their long dark sleep 
 Daily the blessed roses stir and creep 
 
 From fold and bud : and thro' the twilight grey 
 That dreams about the haunts of vanish'd day 
 The culver calleth from the wooded steep. 
 
 I, in the busy haunts of men, but dream 
 Of these, as thou upon thy weary bed : 
 
 Yet every day we know the blue skies gleam 
 And ev'ry night the star-lamps shine, o'erhead — 
 
 Is it not well with us that we can feel 
 
 At least such memoried raptures o'er us steal > 
 
174 Revelation. 
 
 REVELATION. 
 
 |0, in that shadowy place wherein is found 
 The pale unreal fruit which men call 
 dreams, 
 
 I wander'd. Ever underneath wan gleams 
 Of misty moonlight faintly shining round — 
 Long resting on the silent trees as sound 
 
 Before awakening, and o'er sedgy streams 
 
 Moving like wind in broad and quivering beams — 
 A spirit walked beside me. From a mound, 
 Rustling with poplar leaves from top to base, 
 
 Some bird I knew not shrilled a cry of dole. 
 So bitter, I cried out to God for grace : 
 
 Then spake that one, While onward thy years roll 
 Thou shalt be haunted by this hated face — 
 
 And looking up I looked on mine own soul. 
 
Possibilities. 175 
 
 POSSIBILITIES. 
 
 [|S day doth live beyond the sunset skies 
 So life may wait us at the silent grave : 
 Not windless is the sea because there rave 
 Not always the great storm-wind's harmonies. 
 There may be light too strong for earthly eyes ; 
 There may be hands to succour and to save 
 From Death's indifferent o'erwhelming wave ; 
 Nay, Death may lift to some divine surprise ! 
 
 There may be music beyond instruments 
 
 And Spring for evVy frost ni^)|t shapeless did, 
 
 There may be mightier love sacraments 
 Than e'er were seen on consecrated sod ; 
 
 A man there may be with Christ's lineaments 
 And mid the wheels of Fate a living God ! 
 
176 
 
 Pain. 
 
 PAIN. 
 
 AM God's eldest : — I and Love are twin ; 
 We look for ever in the other's face ; 
 Together our flight wings throughout all 
 space — 
 Sun, Star, Man, God, alike we dwell therein ; 
 Some far-off goal together strive to win. 
 
 But here on earth I leave the mightier trace, 
 Clasp hands more close with all the human race. 
 And weave the shadow- webs of joy and sin. 
 And most I dwell in the clear skies at dawn, 
 
 In marvellous eves when all the stars are bright. 
 In music e*er the sweetest chord is gone, 
 
 In woman's beauty still unsoiled and white, 
 In children's slumber in the morning wan. 
 And lover's vows and yearnings in the night. 
 
Ben-a-Chaolais. tyj 
 
 BEN-A-CHAOLAIS (The Mountain of Sounds).* 
 
 IHE wild Atlantic blasts wliirl day and night 
 Their rheum upon it, and the mountain 
 stands 
 
 Frowning immoveably, as a giant with bands 
 
 Chained to the ground" beholds the insulting light. 
 
 Hark ! are they sea-mews in their wailing flight 
 
 These dismal echoes moaning o'er the sands ? 
 
 Or swell the cries from weird unearthly lands 
 
 Borne hence upon the wild wind's wings of might ? 
 
 Thou art the image of a human soul, 
 
 O lonely hill, fronting the blasts of fate — 
 Like thee for ever haunted by wild cries 
 From secret depths, and heedless of the roll 
 Of whirling seas with deathful strength elate, 
 Or the long desolate darkness of the skies. 
 
 * One of the Paps of Jura overlooking the Atlantic. It is honey- 
 combed in its seaward front with hollow narrow caverns running 
 often far inland, where strange currents of air and echoing tidal bil- 
 lows are ever moving: hence, both in calm and tempest, strange 
 wailing sounds seem to issue from its depths. 
 
 N 
 
lyS • Spring- Wind. 
 
 % 
 
 SPRING-WIND. 
 
 / 
 
 FULL-VOICED herald of immaculate 
 
 With clarion gladness striking every tree 
 To answering raptures, as a resonant sea 
 Fills rock-bound shores with thunders echoing — 
 O thou, each beat of whose tempestuous wing 
 Shakes the long winter-sleep from hill and lea,. 
 And rouses with loud reckless jubilant glee 
 The birds that have not dared as yet to sing : 
 
 O wind, that comest with prophetic cries, 
 Hast thou indeed beheld the face that is 
 The joy of poets and the glory of birds — 
 Spring'^ face itself : hast thou 'neath bluer skies 
 Met the warm lips that are the gates of bliss, 
 
 And heard June's leaf-like murmur of sweet words ? 
 
 7 tt ylU. JVy ^^xo^^'^^ f S€6^'^^ //U/f^: rS^nT) 
 
To the Spirit called Laudanum. lyg 
 
 TO THE SPIRIT CALLED LAUDANUM. 
 
 ALMER of pain that would be agony, 
 O spirit, who with hands benign doth 
 keep 
 
 The tired soul shrouded in a veil of sleep, — 
 Who silently takes up the last faint sigh 
 As angeLsouls of children when they die — 
 Whose breath is as those waves upon the deep 
 Born in a tempest but who softly creep 
 Towards windless calms where motionless they lie. 
 
 I feel the silence brooding from thy gaze, 
 I see the shadow of thy slumberous wing 
 
 Shroud the slow ebb of pain's reluctant tide— 
 O spirit, whose feet haunt the silent ways 
 Of sleep and death where voices never ring, 
 I hear the sea where all tired waves subside. 
 
 N 2 
 
i8o Lines, 
 
 LINES. 
 
 |AIR in my sight as white lilies that shine in 
 the sunrise : 
 Sweeter than flow'rs in the meadows that 
 scent the mornings of spring : 
 Dearer than vision of truth, for thou art the truth 
 
 revealed, 
 Dearer than faith, for thou art the crown of aspiration, 
 Dearer than hope, for of hope thou art the fulfilment ! 
 O love, love, love, thou hast turned the darkness of 
 
 the world 
 Into ineffable light, and all its intricate ways 
 To straight, clear paths that lead from the depths to 
 
 the heavens. 
 The flower of my soul sways high in the wind of thy 
 
 love, 
 Glowing with passionate fervour through fulness of 
 
 joy; 
 
 Soul with soul are we wedded, beyond the decay of 
 the body, 
 
Lines. i8i 
 
 And spirit hath spirit touched, beyond the confines of 
 
 flesh: 
 Desire with mighty wings/hath swept the chords of 
 
 our being, 
 And flesh and spirit are one in the mystic union of 
 
 love! *^ 
 
 • These lines, and those following, entitled The Redeemer, must 
 not be judged as hexametrical efforts. They were portion of a series, 
 written simJarly irregularly, when the author held rather heretical 
 views on the limitations of the sonnet and on verse-structure 
 generally. They are inserted simply for the truth that, to the 
 writer, is set forth in each. 
 
1 82 The Redeemer. 
 
 THE REDEEMER. 
 
 KNOW that my Redeemer liveth— but out 
 of the depths of time 
 He hath not called to me yet. But from 
 th' immeasurable tracts 
 That widen unending to where beginneth eternity 
 Falleth at times a voice, heart-thrilling, soul-piercing, 
 
 life-giving ; 
 High sometimes and clear, as a lark singing in a holy 
 
 dawn, 
 Hush'd and afar off again as a dreaming wave upon 
 
 seas 
 Lit by a low vast moon, and windlessly sleeping, but 
 
 ever 
 Sweet with a human love, and full of ineffable 
 
 yearning, 
 And crying of soul unto soul from infinite deep unto 
 
 deep. 
 And sometimes I look and gaze out upon uttermost 
 darkness 
 
The Redeemer. ' - 183 
 
 And hear the wail of desolate winds moaning around 
 
 the world — 
 Till the darkness shivers to light, and clashing thro' 
 
 earth and heaven 
 I hear great wings make music, and marvellous 
 
 thunderous songs 
 Shout "\hy Redeemer liveth,\ O human soul and 
 
 crieth for thee ! 
 
 f 
 
184 • Last Words. 
 
 LAST WORDS. 
 
 {To the one who has always first read everything I have written.) 
 
 [OW can I tell thee, dear, what never words 
 Have fitly told ? How \ope my heart to 
 thee 
 
 Wherein thou might'st, as in a well, perceive 
 Deep down but the mere shadow of my love ? 
 But as the wind sweeps from the icy north 
 To some lov'd isle in dim pacific seas, Gt^, 
 
 Or as the never-ceasing circling waves 
 Follow round earth the radiant orb of night, 
 So follow I with love unspeakable 
 The pathways fill'd with light which are thine own. 
 O love, thou art the flame that burns for me, 
 My steady purpose I That no dark can quench ! 
 Holding thy hand I fear no more to watch 
 The shifting of the changeful lights of Fate. 
 

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