{■£#•/ wimm mm i 1 1 I ' ! i !• I THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES A LIST OF BOOKS PUBLISHED BY MESSRS. EDWARD MOXON & CO., DOVER STREET. " The power of English Literature is in its Poets." Essays on Criticism, by Matthew Arnold. ANNOUNCEMENTS. ft BtUctum from tlje Wlotfta an* betters of Ovaries Eamfi, Prefaced by his -Life. ByfevAMW. Procter, Esq. (Barry fLgriral dTancte0. ^ 5". #. BRADBURY (Quallon). [In December. [In December. ft t f) f n a t s. In small 8vo, ^2?j> WILLIAM STIGANT. Lancelot; an* otfjer loems. ^y W! FULFORD, M.A., Pembroke Coll., Oxford. 3mm 6g Hi late <£oimm* % ftrmstrong. Of Trinity College, Dublin. [In November. ft astograpj&s of ^SJiUtam ^mrg gftunt. ^y ^. 6-. STEPHENS. Illustrated by Chromo-lithographs and Woodcuts of that Artist's Works. A new and revised edition of jFrancc0=ftnne ifcimWi'a Utoim*, Together with some never before published. A List of Books <£otol antr <£ap, ant> ot^cr $oem0. .gy CATHERINE H. MACREADY. [In November. See-Sato; a JiobeL j5y FRANCESCO ABA TI. Edited by W. Winwood Reade. ANNOUNCEMENTS— continued. ILLUSTRATED WORKS. In foolscap 4to, elegantly printed and bound, ©nod) &rtien. By ALFRED TENNYSON. Illustrated by 20 drawings on wood by Arthur Hughes. [At Christmas. Shortly, in foolscap 4to, antiquely bound, a new edition of Cf)e princess. By ALFRED TENNYSON. With 26 illustrations on wood ; engraved by Dalziel, Green, Thomas, and Williams, from Drawings by Daniel Maclise, R.A. Shortly, in foolscap 4to, in elegant cloth, a new edition of Cf)e raorfcs of 3tofjn Ueats. With a Memoir by Lord Houghton. Illustrated by 120 designs by G. Scharf, F.S.A. Shortly, in foolscap 4to, bevelled cloth, Cupper's IJrobertrial ^i)ilosopi)g. Which, in addition to drawings by C. W. Cope, R.A., Fred. R. Pickersgill, A.R.A., John Tenniel, Edward H. Corbould, George Dodgson, Edward Duncan, Birket Foster, And the Ornamental Initials and Vignettes by Henry Noel Humphreys, will contain some entirely new and important illustrations. John Gilbert, James Goodwin, . William Harvey, J. C. Horsley, William L. Leitch, Joseph Severn, Walter Severn, Published by Messrs. Ediunrd Moxon &° Co. 5 In foolscap 8vo, price 7s. cloth, K\)z Romance of tjje Scarlet Eeaf, anti otficc With adaptations from the Provencal Troubadours. By HAMILTON AIDE, Author of " Mr. and Mrs. Faulconbridge," " Rita," &c. " It is refreshing to meet with strains that flow in grace and music from a generous inspiration." — Atkenceum, July 29, 1865. " Careful and graceful verse." — Examiner, August 5, 1865. " They are agreeably and elegantly written." — London Review, May 20, 1865. " Mr. Hamilton A!de\ who has written one or two very good novels, now publishes some poetry." — Press, June 3, 1865. " His refinement and delicacy are seen to equal advantage, whilst a manliness of tone and a liberality of thought are superadded." — Reader, June 6, 1865. In foolscap 8vo, price 10s. 6d. cloth, <£pf)nnrra. By HELEN and GABRIELLE CARR. Illustrated by Helen Carr. " Marked by a peculiar chastened tone of taste and feeling."— Atkenceum, July 29, 1865. " Both ladies write with grace, feeling, and address : not a few of the verses have the true poetical ring." — London Review, July 29, 1865. " Awaken respect for their quality, learning, and engaging melody." — Public Opinion, July 29, 1865. " Under the above noins de plume two most talented ladies have published a series of Poems which will be read with pleasure by all who can appreciate imagery flowing out of a fine and original fancy." — Lord IV. Lennox in the Sporting Magazine, July 29, 1865. Demy 8vo, elegant cloth, price gs., J&tutites in ^Siogtapi)}). By LIONEL JAMES TROTTER, Late Captain, 2nd Bengal Fusileers. " Captain Trotter writes with good sense ; his style is pleasing and the work is decidedly interesting." — Daily News, August 31, 1865. " Captain Trotter writes gracefully, and with a fresh appreciation of the great men whose character he discusses." — Examiner, April 1, 1865. "We are able to speak favourably of these essays." — London Review, May 20, 1865. " Much information collected and considerable light thrown upon the important historical eras, the principal events of winch were directed by the illustrious persons of whom Captain Trotter has given the biogra- phy." — Press, Jan. 28, 1865. " Clever and thoughtful volume of essays." — Allen's Indian Mail, April 22, 1865. ■ in Trotter has a ready pen and a keen appreciation of cha- ncter.' — Notes and Queries, Jan. 21, 1865. A List of Books MOXON'S MINIATURE POETS. " 'Moxon's Miniature Poets' is the name under which some ad- mirable selections from our recent poetry are now offered to the world." — Times, June 6, 1865. 1. Royal i6mo, toned paper, most elegantly bound and printed, a Section from tfje Storks of aifrrt Cemtpon, BMM.., POET LAUREATE. With a Portrait of the Author, from a photograph taken by the Stereoscopic Company in November, 1864. Cloth bevelled, $s. ; ditto, gilt edges, 6s. ; morocco gilt, 10s. 6d. ; best levant morocco, 21s. " We can now carry about with us the best pieces of Tennyson in a small pocket volume." — Times, June 6, 1865. " Contains many of Mr. Tennyson's best known, and some of his most splendid efforts." — London Review. "Is an interesting volume in many ways." — Fortnightly Review, Oct. 1, 1865. a Section from tl)t TOorfcs of ^oorrt ^rotonfng. With a New Portrait engraved by J. H. Baker, from a photograph by W. Jeffrey. Cloth bevelled, 5s. ; ditto, gilt edges, 6s. ; morocco gilt, 10s. 6d. ; best levant morocco, 2 is. " His erudition is very valuable, and gives rich flavour to his senti- ment." — Times, Jan. n, 1865. " He has qualities such as should be cherished by the age we live in, for it needs them." — Quarterly Review, July, 1865. "We have read this selection with real pleasure, and have no hesita- tion in saying that the author justly ranks as one of the real great poets who, perhaps, has but only one living equal in breadth, comprehensive ness, and subtlety." — Public Opinion, October 21, 1865. Published by Messrs. Edward Moxon rice £2 2s., cloth. "The plan adopted is the chronological, so that the series will be not only a collection of the Poet's works, but a history of his mind." — Atlietueiim, February 22, 1865. " Everything calculated to throw light on the development of Hood's genius will be welcome to the public, whom he moved at will to tears or laughter." — Daily News, February 24, 1862. " What an ingenious and whimsical punster was Hood, and what an exquisite lyrist ! Fantastic ideas that would never occur to any other man, came naturally toijm." — The Press, March 15, 1862. KEATS' POEMS. — ♦ — State' poetical raorfta. With a memoir by the Right Hon. the Lord Houghi on. A new and enlarged edition, in one volume, foolscap 8vo, price $s. cloth. Cfje flHorfcs of (ftfjarles Hamu. In one volume 8vo, with Portrait and Vignette, price 12s. cloth. contents : 1. The Letters of Charles Lamb, with a Sketch of his Life. By Sir T. N. Talfourd. — 2. Final Memorials of Charles Lamb; consisting chiefly of his Letters not before published, with sketches of some of his companions. By Sir T. N. Talfourd — | The I says of Elia. — 4. Rosamund Gray, Recollections of Christ's Hospital, Poems, &c. In one volume, foolscap 8vo, price 6s. cloth. 12 A List of Books In November, fcap. 8vo, cloth, a New Edition of &talanta in <2Talgfcon. A TRAGEDY. By ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE. " He [Mr. Swinburne] is gifted with no small portion of the all-important Divine fire, without which no man can hope to achieve poetic success ; he possesses considerable powers of description, a keen eye for natural scenery, and a copious vocabulary of rich yet simple English. * * * * We must part from our author with cordial congratulations on the success with which he has achieved so difficult a task.'' — Times, June 6, 1865. ' ' Exhibits a brilliancy of poetic diction, and a power of melody of a very high order." — Edinburgh Review, July, 1865. "Mr. Swinburne is a true poet." — Pall Mall Gazette, April 18, 1865. " No one who reads ' Atalanta in Calydon ' can doubt that its author is a poet — a poet of great grace, flexibility, and power of expression." — Saturday Review, May 6, 1865. "When it is said that Mr. Swinburne can write most delicate and harmonious blank verse — and his blank verse is more evenly unexception- able than his lyrics — all is not said. His English is pure and extremely fluent ; his rhythm is graceful and dignified ; his lyrics are often melo- diously flexible ; but, more than this, he possesses an intense and incisive observation of the external aspects of things ; his words chisel them out as clearly as in marble." — Fortnightly Review. " Let our readers say whether they often meet with pictures lovelier in themselves or more truly Greek than those in the invocation to Artemis. Many strains equal to that in force, beauty, and rhythmical flow might be cited from the chorus. Those which set forth the brevity of man's life, and the darkness which enfolds it, though almost irreverent in their impeachment of the gods, are singularly fine in expression. * * * * We yet know not to what poet since Keats we could turn for a represen- tation at once so large in its design and so graphic in its particulars ; in the noble hyperbole of description, which raises the boar into the veritable scourge of Artemis, there is imagination of the highest kind. * * » * A subject for many a painter to come — a grand word-picture, in which the influence of no contemporary can be traced. In the fervour and beauty of his best passages we find no reflection of any modern writer." — Atheneeum, April 1, 1865. " He [Mr. Swinburne] has produced a Dramatic Poem which abounds from the first page to the last in the finest constituents of poetry — in imagination, fancy, feeling, sentiment, passion, and knowledge of the human heart and soul, combined with a dominant mastery over every species of verse, from the stateliest pomp of epic metre to the fluent sweetness of song. Selecting for his subject one of the most pathetic of the ancient Greek legends, and adopting the grand old models of Greek tragedy, Mr. Swinburne has shown himself thoroughly imbued with antique spirit. He is evidently a good scholar, for he prefaces his poem with three pages of Greek verse, addressed to Walter Savage Landor. Association with such a man as Landor is in itself sufficient testimony to the excellence of a writer's scholarship ; but mere scholarship alone would not have enabled Mr. Swinburne to write the dramatic poem now before us." — London Review, April 8, 1865. "This is full of true poetry." — Spectator, April 15, 1865. " Let us here, as space allows no more at present, call attention to the lately published ' Atalanta in Calydon ' by Mr. Algernon Swinburne, as the most recent attempt in English literature, within the precincts of what we have called the ' higher muse.'" — Quarterly Review, October, 1865. Published by Messrs. Edward Moxon 6° Co. 13 ALSO, BY THE SAME AUTHOR, Fcap. 8vo, cloth, price $s. Cj)e (Humt-IHotfjer, anti 3£osamcmti; TWO PLAVS. By ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE. Fcap. 8vo, cloth, (Efjastelarti : a Cragrtij). By ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE. \_In November. Second Edition. THE POETICAL WORKS OF raindrop JHacfctoottf) ^tarti, Jft.$. In Two Volumes, foolscap 8vo, price 14J. (A few copies only on large paper, Roxburghe binding, price 24T. ) Illustrated with a Portrait of the Author, engraved by Holl, after the original miniature by Newton. Prefaced by a Memoir by the Rev. Derwent Coleridge, M.A. " One of the most charming books for which any writer of our time has furnished material." — Saturday Review, Nov. 1, 1862. " It was in the airy gambols of social wit and fancy that Winthrop Praed was so admirable." — London Review, Sept. 10, 1864. " The remains of a brilliant man." — Atlien&um, Sept. 10, 1864. " Nor do we think that the readers of Lord Houghton and Mackworth Praed will doubt that each has left more than one specimen of what will be handed down with that literature which is destined, at no very distant date, to be more than any other the world's literature — as genuine and delightful poetry." — Quarterly Review, October, 1865. SHELLEY'S WORKS. S^Hrg's $onns, (£ssap, aiv& ILcttrrs from abroad. Edited by MRS. SHELLEY. In one volume, medium 8vo, with Portrait and Vignette, price 12s. cloth. Swire's poetical Motfts. Edited by MRS. SHELL E V. In three volumes, foolscap 8vo, price 15s. cloth. 14 A List of Books iofjelleg's Grssags, Hftto from gloroafc. TRANSLATIONS AND FRAGMENTS. Edited by MRS. SHELLEY. In two volumes, foolscap 8vo, price gs. cloth. SfteHefi'a Cortical TOorfcs. In one volume, small 8vo, with Portrait and Vignette, price js. cloth. Sijelleg Jftrmortals : From authentic sources. Edited by LADY SHELL E Y. In one volume, crown 8vo, 5^. cloth. * # * The works of the principal poets are constantly kept in the best levant morocco, elegantly tooled from a design by Robert Dudley, and particularly suitable for Birthday and Christmas gifts. In ordering these, it is necessary to specify " Moxon's Binding" WORKS BY THE POET LAUREATE. By ALFRED TENNYSON, D.C.L. Seventeenth Edition. In one volume, foolscap 8vo, price gs. cloth. Jftairtr ; an* otfjn; $oems. By ALFRED TENNYSON, D.C.L. Seventh Edition. Foolscap 8vo, price $s. cloth. in JHnnoriam. Seventeenth Edition. Foolscap 8vo, price 6s. cloth. Cf)e ^ttttnm A MEDLEY. By ALFRED TENNYSON, D.C.L. Thirteenth Edition. Foolscap 8vo, price 5s. cloth. Bglls oi t\)t Sting. By ALFRED TENNYSON, D.C.L. A New Edition. Foolscap 8vo, price js. cloth. ©nodj &rt>cn, ftc. By ALFRED TENNYSON, D.C.L. Foolscap 8vo, price 6s. cloth. • # * The above Works are always to be had in Morocco Bindings. Published by Messrs. Edward Moxon dr 3 Co. 15 WORKS BY MARTIN F. TUPPER, M.A., D.C.L., F.R.S., of Christchurch, Oxford. ^Probcrm'al ^Ijilosopfjg. By MARTIN F. TUPPER, D.C.L., F.R.S. Library Edition, post 8vo, cloth, Ss. ^robrrmal ^^tlosiopfjg. Pocket Edition." i8mo, cloth, gilt leaves, 3^. 6d. Co. jfrancts Spita; anto otfjet ^oems. By THE A UTHOR OF " THE GENTLE LIFE." Fcap. 8vo, cloth, price 6s. "The lyrics will probably be favourably regarded by many to whom poetry is not always acceptable." — London Review, June 17th, 1865. "The attributes of Mr. Friswell's verse are exceeding delicacy, high finish, and a vein of quaint yet always attractive humour." — Sunday Times, June 22nd, 1865. $octrg for <£tfte antr School tyxittB. Pocket Editions. Elegant cloth. WORDSWORTH'S POETICAL works. In six volumes, price 15.S. cloth. WORDSWORTH'S EXCUR- SION. Price 3s. 6d. cloth. KEATS' POETICAL WORKS. With a Memoir by Lord Hough- ton (R. M. Milnes). Price 3-r. 6d. cloth. COLERIDGE'S POEMS. Price 3-r. 6d. cloth. SHELLEY'S MINOR POEMS. Price 3$. 6d. cloth. LAMB'S SPECIMENS OF ENGLISH DRAMATIC POETS. In two volumes, price 6s. cloth. DODD'S BEAUTIES of SHAK- speare. Price 3s. 6d. cloth. DANA'S SEAMAN'S MANUAL; by the Author of "Two Years before the Mast." Containing : A Treatise on Practical Seamanship, with Plates ; a Dictionary of Sea Terms ; Customs and Usages of the Merchant Service ; Laws relating to the Practical Duties of Master and Mariners. Ninth Edition, revised and corrected in accordance with the most recent Acts of Parliament, by the late Commodore J. H. Brown, R.N., C.B., Registrar-General of Merchant Seamen. Price 5.5. cloth. GOETHE'S FAUST. Translated into English Prose, with Notes. By A. Hayward, Esq., O.C., Eighth Edition. Price 4J. cloth. GREENWOOD'S (COLONEL GEORGE) HINTS ON HORSEMANSHIP TO A NEPHEW AND NIECE ; or, Common Sense and Common Errors in Common Riding. A new, revised, and Illustrated Edition. The wood engravings, photo- graphed from life, are illustrative of the management of the reins in accordance with the principles enunciated in the work. One volume, sm. 8vo. Price 6s. "A new edition of a very good little book." — Baily's Magazine, June 1861. " His remarks throughout, and especially on the management of the reins, are very correct." — The Field, May 25th, 1861. LORD HOUGHTON'S POEMS (R. M. Milnes). Original Edition. In three volumes, foolscap 8vo, price 15s. cloth. TALFOURD'S DRAMATIC WORKS. Eleventh Edition. In one volume, foolscap 8vo, price 6s. cloth. BRADBURY, EVANS, AND CO., PRINTERS, WHITEFRIARS. LYEICAL FANCIES. LYRICAL FANCIES. BY S. H. BEADEUEY, |( u )("ALLON. LONDON: EDWARD MOXON & CO., DOVEl; STREET. lHfiC. LONDON : PRINTED AT THB REGENT PRESS, 55, KING STREET, REGENT STREET, W. ( v ) /5f / TO / SHIRLEY BROOKS, ESQt, THE ACCOMPLISHED AUTHOR OF " ASPEN COURT," " THE SILVER CORD," AND OTHER WORKS THAT HAVE NOTABLY ENRICHED ENGLISH LITERATURE AS A TOKEN OF PROFOUND RESPECT FOR HIS BRILLIANT 4N° VERSATILE GENIUS, AND IN' GRATEFUL REMEMBRANCE OF HOURS MADE HAPPY B1 HIS WARM FRIENDSHIP AND VALUABLE ADVICE, THIS VOLUME I- DEDICATED BY HIS SINCERE FRIEND AND ADMIRER, THE AUTHOK. London, Dec. 1st, 1865. D b orf.^O ( vii ) PREFACE. At the end of this volume will be found extracts from notices of the press of my work published in 186-9. To insert notices of such a kind may be objected to by some persons ; but it is thought they may serve to guide the judgment of those critics into whose hands my previous volume did not fall. ( " ) CONTENTS. PAGE The Lady Vale 1 The Maiden's Laughter 18 Geraldine 20 The Flower in the Book 23 On ! BEAUTIFUL NlGHT 25 R. Cobden . . . . 27 Sit by my Side 29 Thoughts by Night 31 i shall not tell her name 33 The Dream 35 Come Again 40 The truest Noble in the Land 42 Summer 44 Frost on the Panes 46 Stat, dear Maiden 48 An Elegy 50 The Artist 53 In Sorrow 58 Her Raven Curls 60 Lady Gertrude 62 X CONTENTS. PAGE Our Toilers 64 The Miser and his Gold 66 A Dream of the Fairies 74 A Fragment 77 In the Village Lane 80 The Bird is Singing in the Tree 82 Kate 84 Lady Alice 86 In the Autumn of the Year 88 The Night before the Wedding Morn . . . . 90 To the Moon 92 The Statues 94 Wishes 97 The Dead One's Grave 99 To Aurora 101 In Yonder Cot 103 The Castle by the Ehine 105 The Poetry of Earth 108 Ada 110 The Old Wheel in the Mill 113 To June 115 Fireside Musings 117 Under the Holly 121 Lines for the Poor 123 Love Lyric 125 A Rosy Face and Chestnut Hair 127 If I should leave the Earth ere Thee . . 129 Amid the Clover 131 CONTENTS. xi _. TT PACK she lives in Heaven 133 What shall I do to "Win her Hand . . . . 135 Maiden Beauty 137 The Open Window 139 An Epitaph 141 A clear Blue Sky. and Golden Moon .. .. 141 The Vacant Chair 146 Song ' 14g The Glory of Labour 150 Twilight Beveries 153 An Evening Scene 155 BjAtm 158 Beside the Evening Fire 159 The Maiden's Voice 161 In the Courts and Alleys Born 163 Sitting at the Window 167 On the Eiver 170 Maiden Worship 172 Little Cherub 174 Wasted Days 176 A Dirge 178 Sleeping Child 180 Village at Evening 182 Bacchanalian 184 The Stohh Is:, In heb Lone Boom I87 'I'm: Village school 189 Tin; Worker l'.l I Xll CONTENTS. PAGB The Bridge 193 Rural Sketch 195 The Broken Harp 198 Beside the Brook 201 Florence Nightingale 202 My Country 204 The Battle of Bosworth 206 The Past 208 Autumn 210 Tread Slowly 212 Fancies 214 THE LADY VALE. In years gone by a peasant youth Was filled with love for Lady Vale, The daughter of the proudest earl That e'er was clad in coat of mail. He wooed her long with secret words, For years his hopings were in vain ; Wild hope, to thrill a peasant's breast, — A gay patrician's hand to gain ! Romance was built within his soul, And gave deep passions to his dreams ; Pure thoughts were in his bosom laid Like whitest pebbles glassed in streams. I !•• watched the Lady Vale by noon Walk o'er the bridge that spanned the moat, \nd saw her like a wave of light Step smiling in her gleaming boat. 2 LYKICAL FANCIES. He saw the boat with gilded sides Move on the water with his love ; He saw her oft, half lost 'mong leaves, Appear like to a fluttering dove. Each spot that gave to hirn a view Of one he loved was quickly known ; He gazed upon her as he stood Still as a figure formed of stone. And when he heard her laughter run, In lucent luxury, he was made To feel the wildest throbs of love, Among the brightest scenes to wade. No cord about his heart was still, New fancies woke upon his brain ; As placid river's ringed with smiles, When lightly struck with drops of rain. He watched her from the garden paths Among the drooping roses walk : No music ever smote his ears So strangely as her merry talk. A martyr doomed to stand in fire Ne'er looked so stern, nor felt so brave Upon his heart his purpose lay Like turf upon a guarded grave. LYRICAL FANCIES. He pined to win the Lady Vale, Yet she was proud and he was poor ; As well essay to fling from earth To heaven one drop of human gore ; As. well attempt to move the Sphinx, Or calm the sea when mad with foam. As thou, poor peasant youth, to be A guest in Lady Vale's proud home. Poor Juvol ! one of Labour's sons, The Lady Vale thy plea would spurn ; Onc'e fired with love the mind undimmed, Unquenched^and beautiful will burn. Poor peasant Juvol vowed he 'd win The Lady Vale to be his bride ; He thought her heart would ope to him. And cherish not one spark of pride. He looked by night upon the hall Where dwelt the Lady Vale, and prayeil That he might but one moment be Upon the pathway where she strayed. Eer beauty took his soul a slave, Ami bound him in a golden chain ; It thivv. about him magic gleam . Like un-ri le through blue-tinted pa b •-' i LYRICAL FANCIES. Skies had to him a ruddier glow Than ever they had worn before : Life had revealed to him a prize That made him idolize — adore. Night brought him dreams of Lady Vale, He kissed her hand and elapsed her waist ; And in her large and liquid eyes His own exulting likeness traced. At eve he saw the lady sit On balcony with book in hand ; Her brow by leaves of lemon trees Half hid and touched was faintly fanned. She gazed upon the book like saint From marble wrought by rarest skill ; And moved not till the moon arose White as a diamond o'er the hill. And when she bowed her lovely head, In golden waves her ringlets fell, And on her heaving bosom lay, Moved gently by its snowy swell. To be then by the lady's side Juvol would face a thousand swords ; He would have drained his eager heart Of passion and his mouth of words. LYRICAL FANCIES. When through the windows of the hall The lights a mellow glimmer cast, He gazed while thoughts of strangest shape Upon his mind long-tortured past. On balcony he would have stood And prayed but for one moment's speech ; To be but for a moment placed Within the lady's dainty reach. Rare music slept within her lips, It was her prisoner till she spoke ; Young Juvol listened to the tones, Pleased as ar*child by laughter woke. He feared to speak lest she might scorn The meagre nature of his state ; One haughty word, one angry look, Would fix a brand upon his fate. One morn he rose with will to dare The lady's look and once to speak ; Strong was the passion in his soul, And yet his tongue was ever weak. I'ii'' morning broke -without one cloud, The east was flushed with rosiest bins . That died away, when throng]] the In ci The eye caught affluent sapphire views. C, LYRICAL FANCIES. Bees hummed about the thymy plots, ():i roses basked, dew-spangled o'er: He saw the lark from clover rise, And bathed in sun-fires skyward soar. From fields and gardens odours came. And fainted on the languid air : A sculptured form of Venus stood Close by the hall with bosom bare. And statues of great poets too Stood proudly ranged in marble rows. O'er whose undying labours Fame Its best and brightest halo throws. Young Juvol now the garden sought, — He knew the spots the lady paced, — He thought the flowers the sweetest bloomed Where most her worshipped presence graced. He saw her slowly leave the hall, — His heart was beating wild and loud ; He watched her moving like the moon That breaks the darkness of a cloud. The path by which he stood she took ; With fear his frame began to shake, And locked the language of his tongue, And froze the vow he sighed to make. LYKICAL FANCIES. Ere sped the lady where he stood, He dared her glance superb to meet ; He quailed before her azure eyes, And knelt in slavery at her feet. •' Forgive me, noblest maid," he spoke, " Thy glory has enchained me long ; Thy grace to me is dearer far Than richest fancies to a song. " Thou hast been present night and day Unto my soul ; and I have seen More splendour in thy form and face Than ever clawered the greatest queen. I am thy stricken, humble slave ; Scorn not, spurn not, my honest vow ; More love ne'er filled a human breast Than that which fires my bosom now. " Had I the world it should be thine, There is no state I 'd hold from thee ; If e'er of captive thou hast dreamed, Behold that creature now in me. Poor is the offering to thy rank, And I must die if thou should'st frown ; 1 would declare my love the same W en 1 the wcaivr of a crow n." 8 LYRICAL FANCIES. He paused ; the lady on him gazed Like one who knows not what to speak ; Her will to spurn his simple prayer She felt that moment was too weak. Young Juvol looked up to her face, And there a smile of pity played ; It flashed upon his haggard look Like sunshine on an unsheathed blade. The beauty that he 'd long adored Now won to tears his eager eyes ; He felt half blinded by her power, As though he 'd looked on sun-tinged skies. A bracelet clasped one rounded arm, With rarest jewels sprinkled o'er ; Like to a fading spark of fire An opal on her breast she wore. Her lips like holly berries shone, The pink gleam on each cheek would show As hue of rose on marble shed, Or peaches set in glittering snow. Her dress hung loose in many folds, In. each there seemed to dwell a grace, Made by the movement of her form, 'T were greatest blindness not to trace. LYRICAL FANCIES. 9 There was large meaning in her eyes, For they were Love's unclouded deeps ; There rich desires half hidden lay, For there the heart's hest likeness sleeps. The lady's look on Juvol's face Soon hurried all his passions up, As swarm the glimmering globes of wine Unto the top of golden cup. " I am not angry with thee, friend," The lady spoke ; in Juvol's ears The 'words went shivering to his heart, As though 'twere stabbed with hundred spears. She fixed her glance upon his face, And there was kindness in her look ; In which rare pleasure seemed to dwell, Like honey-worded song in book. A radiant smile spread from her lips, Unto her checks pale dimples came ; Half playful and half proud she asked The prostrate Juvol for his name. There was great witchery in her voice, Voluptuous cadence in its tones ; As fresh as babblings of a rill That gambols over weeds and stones. 10 LYEICAL FANCIES. A baud of purple velvet rau Arouud her brow, ou which were set A dazzling shower of lucent pearls, Like rain-drops flung on violet. And on her temples, faintly blue, The veins were seen like streaks of sky. Beheld through whitened clouds at eve, Whose summits wear a crimson dye. Young Juvol slow]y lisped his name — The lady listened, and away From her poor lover's side she sped — The while his heart in sorrow lay. He set his heart upon her own, Like child's on what it cannot reach ; For Love's remorse and shattered dreams To life the bitterest lessons teach. We garner wisdom from the past, We learn our morals from our woe ; And half the cares that chequer life To pleasure's thoughtless hours we owe. Poor Juvol's soul was filled with pain ; He thought the lady's heart was stone, That it poured not its gladness out As full and freely as his own. LYRICAL FANCIES. 11 He sought Lis home and wept hot tears. Fierce fire was kindled on his brain ; Keen sorrows ran about his thoughts, Like lightnings vaulting in the rain. In dreams the lady near him stood ; tried to clasp her, but in vain ; He moved like one whose limbs are bound And fettered by a burning chain. His spirit had no taint of guile, He spoke the language that he felt ; X i i .saint more truthful ever prayed, Or with more laithful fervour knelt. Mouths passed away, and Juvol's hope Began to flourish and to rise Like star that with cool glitter breaks At evening in the unmooned skies. lie met the lady near the hall ; Upon her face a smile was seen, That told young Juvol where her though) s, Free as the birds in dells, bad been. Once more he dared to speak a word, To pour his rapture in her heart ; iw-Ij her eyes from dreamy ease To large and lustrous wonder start. 12 LYRICAL FANCIES. She listened to his simple words, And each to her seemed pure and true ; Around her mind his pleadings ran, And into Love's warm glory grew. She loved to meet him day by day, And at the closing of the eve ; When perfumes from the lilac bloom Upon the air faint luxuries leave. They met when night had strewn her gems Upon the grass in gleaming crowds, That lay like stars, whose silver orbs Drop splendour through the swimming clouds. They walked by rills half hid by flowers, And whispered when the zephyrs stirred ; And vows more earnest from young lips The listening angels never heard. As lightly stepped the Lady Vale As snowfiake on a frozen stream, At such dear moments in her eyes Her soul seemed palaced in a dream. Around her waist young Juvol's arm Was then so fondly, proudly twined ; The richness of her silver talk Set beauties blooming on his mind. LYEICAL FANCIES. 13 And when the moon rose, round and pale, Pure as great diamond through the dark, They roamed beneath the elms that threw Huge shadows in the level park. A change came o'er the Lady Vale ; Her father learnt her love and frowned ; And when she dared not leave the hall Her fading cheeks in tears were drowned. In secret she was doomed to pine ; Her freedom curbed, her gladness went : With sorrow she gazed o'er the days In love and pleasure she had spent. Soon for a distant shore she left Her father's home ; his anger wore The nature that, once planted, leaves The proud insulted heart no more. Of Juvol's love she daily dreamed, While moving in a foreign land ; For past delights upon the mind Like old and broken statues stand. They arc the links that bind the past,— Too often forge our keenest ills : When sorrow every growing thought With wild and secret torture fills. 14 LYEICAL FANCIES. Alas ! poor Lady Vale, thy deeds Had not one stain or trace of sin ; 'Twas but the opening of thy heart For love to gaily flutter in ! Though far away, young Ju vol's heart Is thine for ever, ever thine ; His tears are shed like June's warm rains Upon the juicy fruited vine. Your minds in wedded compact lived, Were sweetly tangled, that no fear E'er threw a shadow on your lives Or drew unto your eyes one tear. The paths where strayed the Lady Vale Seemed lonely, and no laughter rung In lucid peals through myrtle trees, Like bells 'gainst golden vases swung ! She walks not where the chestnut's bloom Gives fragrance to the slumberous air, Nor where green leaves shut from the gaze The lovely haunts where ring-doves pair. And if she glances on the sky, Warm tears adown her wan cheeks swim. As rain-drops down a window pane, When day is waning cold and dim. LYRICAL FANCIES. 15 Years passed away ; her father's hate Had not a change — he cursed her name ; He thought her love a brazen crime, To bring disgrace, to end in shame. Unknown she left her foreign home, To meet young-Juvol once again ; For she was bound unto his soul, And threats to daunt her all were vain. Of her resolve young Juvol heard, And yearned to hold her in his arms, To \6ok once more upon a face, That gave hisjife such mingled charms. They met once more — the day had gone, The white moon flooded all the sky ; The cool winds to the lilies crept, — Stole kisses and then hurried by. The lady fell in Juvol's arms : Few moments thus in silence past ; Her curls upon her shoulders lay, Like orient gold on ivory cast. •• Tis madness, Juvol, to have loved, [ have madly worshipped thee," The lady cried ; young Juvol spoke, 41 Thy wrongs are sacred unto me." 16 LYEICAL FANCIES. From phial filled the lady drank, Quaffed eagerly each drop and drain ; A moment and she lightly fell, Upon the turf like drop of rain. She moved no more — to Juvol's heart A thousand horrors winged their way ; He spoke not, but beside her corpse Pale as a murdered hero lay ! Long hours in stupor he was held, And when he woke his mind was gone ; He looked upon the corpse and laughed, And cried aloud, " Wake, lovely one.'* Ere morning broke his mind again Was strong as in the days of yore ; But all its gladness had died out, His look was haggard — young no more. Then with his hands he made a grave, And there the Lady Vale he laid ; 'Twas in a lone sequestered spot, Where beams of sunshine never played. He longed to moulder by her side, — Struck near bis heart a blade of steel ; He did not care to speak his woes Nor that night's horrors to reveal ! LYRICAL FANCIES. 17 And with the warm blood from his breast. His lips and hands death-like and pale ; Upon the cold and dewy turf, He wrote " Peace to the Lady Vale." Then bleeding on the grass he lay, Near to his lifeless idol's side ; Without a shriek — without a groan, He closed his wild large eyes and died ! Years have gone by ; the bloody words Plain on the turf may yet be seen ; The grass no longer grows, 't is said, Where marksrof human blood have been ! For years no eye beheld the grave ; At length were found but fleshless bones ; And now, each midnight, from the spot Is heard the sound of human groans ! Old gossips hold the place in awe ; To speak its history never fail : There maids by day oft shed a tear, And whisper, " Peace to Lady Vale ! " 18 LYRICAL FANCIES. THE MAIDEN'S LAUGHTER. I own it was her laughter That won me to her side ; I own I loved the maiden, Pale-browed and azure-eyed. I own the maiden's graces First made me yearn to speak ; My love was told in blushes From burning brow to cheek. I own I was her captive, "When first I saw her smile ; I turned away my glances, Yet saw her all the while ! I own her gentle spirit First led me to adore — The softest, sweetest music Could not have thrilled me more. LYRICAL FANCIES. 19 I lived in rarest bondage ; I lost rny heart and hand ; The maiden was my idol, The fairest in the land. Where'er she walked I wandered, Alone where she had strayed ; Ne'er for a brighter treasure A martyr ever prayed. The green leaves seemed to whisper That she was queen of girls ; E'en zephyrs seemed to loiter, For pleasure, 'mong her curls. Love blossomed in her glances, The hours were made to shine : 'T was Nature made her lovely ! ' Twas love that made her mine ! 20 LYEICAL FANCIES. GERALDINE. Oh ! stately was the lovely Geraldine, A picture perfect as she lay asleep ; A brow where glorious intellect was seen ; Where artist might new thoughts of beauty reap. Arms white as marble, and so sweetly round, Bare on the silken coverlet were laid ; Like image of snow-wreaths in lakelet drowned, And, hushed in dreams, her lips like rose- leaves played. The faintest pink dwelt on each rounded cheek. And to the pillow gave a rosy hue, Like morning's blush on lilies ; eyes might seek Its like in crimson tulip filled with dew. A band of blushing velvet bound her arm, With diamonds sprinkled, raining sparks of light ; Each violet- coloured vein ran like a charm Till they were lost 'mong curls dark as the night. LYRICAL FANCIES. 21 Her bosom wave-like ever rose and fell, The coverlet revealed its ample mould ; The moon ne'er looked so white, seen from a dell, Nor image fairer could these eyes behold ! And when the morning through her chamber blushed, It seemed to borrow beauty as it strayed To where she lay, in silver visions hushed, Still as a goddess in a robe arrayed. And when she rose she laved her beauteous form, Then in the water plunged, while ripples prest In hurried crowds to dally and to warm, To clasp and lie about her heaving breast. She rises from the bath ; in silken dress Made loose and lustrous soon her form ap- pears ; Then in a sable mass each glossy tress Holds in its fragrant coil pearls pale as tears. With peerless majesty she walks the floor, In honeyed accents warbles some sweet strain By olden poet rich in golden lore, With lucent fancies lit like drops of rain. 22 LYRICAL FANCIES. A full midnight of splendour gleams her eye, Where the attracted sunlight swarms and wades ; And every zephyr, ere it flutters by, Her silken bodice lovingly invades. Then to her bower she walks with gilded book. Whose leaves are perfumed and whose thoughts are rare ; E'en there stray sunbeams thro' the vine leaves look, As though they strove to find an angel there. More wealth of beauty never touched the earth, Such languaged eyes before were never seen ; No eloquence could ever paint the worth Of peerless, happy-hearted Geraldine ! LYRICAL FANCIES. 23 THE FLOWEK IN THE BOOK. I placed a snowdrop in a book When bridal spring first came to earth ; I plucked it from a sunny nook, And tried in»yam to sing its worth. I placed the treasured book aside, And wondered when the snowdrop died. I had no wish to see it dead, Thoughts told of joys its life had shed. Days travelled on ; the summer came ; 1 oped the book and blessed the flower ; It seemed to me like perished fame, Born but to glimmer for an hour. The marble hue that once it bore Was gone, 'twas withered to the core ; 'Twas like a thought that lingers on The memory when its charm ba gone. ■24 LYRICAL FANCIES. I loved it ere I broke the stern On which it trembled night and morn ; — For laughing spring, a fragile gem, By south winds kissed, in sunshine bora. A sadness in my soul it made, I did not wish to see it fade ; I would have toiled to save its bloom, By morning's smiles, through nights of gloom. There is a truth in all dead things That subtlest speech can never tell ; 'Tis like the sound of folding wings Unseen, and clasping like a spell. That snowdrop dead around the mind Thoughts of its living beauty twined ; For scenes of death make thoughts of life, Things living with dead thoughts are rife ! And like this snowdrop hopes all fade. Too transient and too frail to last ; And when once gone, the charms they made Will lead the mind unto the past. To mourn the loss of early years, When age upon the mind appears ; And to the future gives a look, Like this dead snowdrop in the book. LYRICAL FANCIES. OH! BEAUTIFUL NIGHT. Oh ! beautiful night, Thou art shining still ; What musical tones Are made by the rill ! The light of the moon Is thrown on the hill. Most beautiful night, Undimmed by a cloud ; In gleaming shoals come Thy stars in a crowd ; Like maidens at prayer, Lone lilies are bowed ! Rare, beautiful night, Thou art not alone ; The moon on thy brow, Like a white rose blown : I call thee my love, When evening lias flown ! 26 LYKICAL FANCIES. Proud, beautiful night ! Earth borrows from thee The moments of peace, Far clearest to me, When prints of thy stars Gleam white in the sea ! Cool, beautiful night ! I gaze on thy skies, As lover would look On maiden's blue eyes ; Thy southern winds soft As the faintest sighs. Calm, beautiful night ! Dost see human tears, And number the woes Humanity bears, — The sorrowful look Each fallen one wears ? Sweet, beautiful night ! I worship the hours Thou givest the world ; — Thy spirit that dowers, "With a dream of dew, The honey-filled flowers ! LYRICAL FANCIES. 27 R. COBDEN. Gone, gone to earth ! we mourn tliee now ; In thee the fire of freedom burned ; We know thy loss — remember how All wrongs by thee were bravely spurned — Thy full great mind to goodness turned. Thy battles for the poor shall make A deathless chaplet for thy name ; Death cannot from thy glory take. Twill ever proudly glow the same, The worthiest honour stamped with fame. Schooled with the people, all thy power Was used to help their righteous cause ; 'Twas well that God should richly dower Thy mind to toil lor purest laws, Winning but heeding not applaui i 28 LYRICAL FANCIES. No rank gave lustre to thy birth, No lordly heritage was thine ; Thy virtue proved thy radiant worth — Thou splendour of a lowly line ! Thy name can never cease to shine. Untold the worth of thy bequest Unto thy country, and it bears An endless blessing — take thy rest, Thou'rt greater now than kings and peers, Thy name as lasting as the years. Death won thee, but thou wilt live on, Thy works thy valorous history tell : There's brightness when the sun has gone ; Thy spirit will among us dwell Like sound of ocean in the shell. LYRICAL FANCIES. 29 SIT BY MY SIDE. Sit by my side, niy love of love, I'll proudly listen to thy strains ; With' me the God Divine this hour In calm and perfect beauty reigns. The mists of care fade from my sight : Unlanguaged I look on thy bloom ; It breaks in splendour on my gaze, As full moon smites the midnight's gloom. Thy love to me like beacon bums : It clasps me in its gracious power ; Deep in my heart its sweetness lies, Like honey draughts in sun-blown flower. I cannol -peak the joy I own In pre ence of that look of thine ! The beauties of thy modest life Arc glowing round this life of mine. 30 LYEICAL FANCIES. 'Tis love like thine that lures the heart : Such love to life its fondness gives ; It grows in radiance like a blush : In rare and rosy perfume lives. I dream of thee, love, as I walk The paths where Labour's sceptre swings, Where grand as thunder fall its strokes, And where its iron music rings. I walk with thee in proud bright dreams When night o'er earth broods dim and calm. And black clouds blind its azure dome, Dark as the shadows of the palm. 'Tis love like thine that leads the heart To shun betimes its daily cares ; That makes its worship as sublime As dying saints' or martyrs' prayers ! LYRICAL FANCIES. 31 THOUGHTS BY NIGHT. The orb of day has gone once more, A pensive darkness shrouds the land ; Upon the river and the shore Great shadow?rlike black columns stand. The night seems sad, as though it moivrned To view the miseries of the crowd ; — ill' eyes from Nature's beauties turned, The wanton follies of the proud. 1 too am sad, yet there's a charm In night that I can ne'er explain ; I; clasps me like a loving arm, Ami guides me back to youth again. When robed iu darkness thoughts of earth And man and all his troubles rise ; — How poor tin' monarch's gilded worth, Mow v;iin the wisdom of the Avisc! m LYEICAL FANCIES. Like broken gods, I see through tears, The shattered hopes of bygone days ; Some born in rapture, some in fears, Now gleaming with but faded rays. Tis Age that gives to early dreams That sober look which now they bear, As Autumn shows in meadow streams The dying beauty of the year. I'm led to muse how many hearts For some great prize have toiled in vain ; How often death, long- welcomed, starts To cool the burning of the brain. Perchance while musing I behold The past grow brilliant as of yore : 'Tis then the mind will ope to hold Thoughts of the hearts now young no more. LYRICAL FANCIES. 33 I SHALL NOT TELL HER NAME. 1 know a niaid to whom I've paid More homage than to fame ; Her rubied mouth Warm as the South, But I shall not tell her name. rfi'i- pretty wiles and sunny smiles Oft thrilled me when they came ; Her lips have Trues Like crimson dews, But I shall not tell her name. Her foot is small, her figure tall, Her hands the lilies shame ; Each lustrous curl The zephyrs whirl, But I shall not tell her name. Each eye, though dark, has a golden spark That takes a magic aim ; My arm in haste Has clasped her waist, But I shall not tell her name. U LYRICAL FANCIES. Her hair, nut-brown, her shoulders drown In splendid waves, the same As sunbeams thrown On blossoms blown, But I shall not tell her name. In primrose dells she sings and dwells. Her beauty earns her fame ; 1 11 say I think Her cheeks are pink, But I must not tell her name. Her brow, I know, is fair as snow, And marble has no claim, With all its charms, To match her arms, But I shall not tell her name. For she was born, like hues of morn, The tints of art to shame ; She lights the shade That night has made, But I shall not tell her name ! Her eyes, ne'er dim, seem made to swim In brightness still the same ; Neck white as pearls, The queen of girls, But I will not tell her name. LYRICAL FANCIES. 35 THE DREAM. One evening I was weary, and my thoughts were lone and dreary, As I wandered in the village where the child- ren were at play, And I saw long dusky shadows thrown upon the emerald meadows, And a sadneSs on my spirit, like a crushing burden lay, While in secret I was praying for my grief to pass away. I heard the children singing, and their merry laughter ringing M;ide me feel that I was lonely, with no cheer- ing prospects near ; Yet I hoped, while pressed with sorrow, for a solace in the morrow, Ami prayed that I might borrow from the future hopes to cheer ; Tli ' ome form of love and beauty, making gladness would appear. D 2 36 LYRICAL FANCIES. Upon the past I pondered, as alone I slowly wandered, To descry a place of resting in a cool and flowery dell ; I watched the sun declining, like a burning ruby shining, Where the chestnut boughs were twining, and it soothed my spirit well ; And each spot was swathed in glory where the sun's effulgence fell. I lingered heavy-hearted, till the red sun had departed, In that dell of flowers and dewdrops till night's stillness should come on ; I had no gleam of gladness, but was wedded unto sadness, While the pale cold hue of madness, dimly on my fancy shone, Like the feeble spark of taper when its sickly flame has gone. Quickly in a dream I slumbered, and my woes no longer numbered, For I saw an angel smiling, walking calmly to my side, LYRICAL FANCIES. 37 And it whispered, " Lonely mortal ! thou hast a soul immortal That may enter Heaven's gold portal, when . thou'st crossed life's troubled tide : See'st thou not when fades the tempest, how the clouds in brightness ride ? ' ' The cares by mortals tasted, are reproofs for moments wasted, For the precious treasures squandered, kindly laid within their reach ; It seems that man will never, from his heedless pleasures gever, Blindly facing ruin ever, seeing not that each for each For eternal peace should labour, and the noblest duties teach ! " Then a calm came o'er my spirit, and I thought I could inherit, Once again the joys of childhood, in the happy days of yore, When I had no feelings blighted, and felt each moment lighted, With a rapture no one slighted, when my heart a treasure bore, Beautiful with sunniest glimmers and a warm romantic lore. ■58 LYRICAL FANCIES. Then the angel from me vanished, and I felt the burden banished That had filled my soul with anguish, while my dream went on sublime ; Men I saw as brethren meeting, each other fondly greeting, Kindest wishes oft repeating, with no trace of guile or crime, Strangers from each toiling kingdom and from every state and clime. As I woke my soul was lighter, and the future hovered brighter, While the shivering stars were crowded, and to earth their lustre flowed ; The moon with beauty teeming, with a prim- rose hue was beaming, Like a dying maiden seeming, up the dark clouds faintly rode Till the dell where I was walking like a golden ocean glowed ! Once again to home I wandered, and on my dream I pondered ; Quiet reigned about the village, and each spot seemed still and lone ; LYRICAL FANCIES. 89 I 'd lost rny care and sadness, and a thought of love and gladness Had chased away the madness that had marked me for its own. All the sorrows of the evening through that -angel's words had flown ! / 40 LYRICAL FANCIES. COME AGAIN. Summer, come again to earth, Let me see thy sunny bloom ; Let the crimson rose have birth, Winter chills me with its gloom. Throw thy beauty on the wold, Virgin spring will quickly wane ; Give the flowers their hues of gold, Let thy sunshine flood the lane. "Wake again the humming bee, Toiling 'mong the honeyed flowers ; In my dreams I hear and see Once again thy murmuring showers. Let me see thee gild the hill, Warmly in the valley glow ; Watch thy sparkles on the rill Where the red, red roses blow. LYRICAL FANCIES. 41 Whisper round the cowslip's bells, Let their odours round me swini ; As I view froni leafy dells Cloudlets shade the sun's white rim. Perfumed chestnut blossoms bring, . Dewy morns and skies of blue, When with birds the woodlands ring : Vernal heavens of sun and dew. Come again, dear Summer, soon ; Show once more thy green, green leaves ; Send the purple-hearted June, With its'flushed and mellow eves. Earth in thy warm kisses shines, Quaffs thy cool delicious showers, For thy gentle coming pines, At thy touch she laughs in flowers. Like a lover unto thee I am looking day by day ; Waiting once again to see JUossom dowered, laughing May. Sunny queen of balmy hours, Give again the flowers their hue ; P< arl them with thy glittering showers And with coronets of dew. 42 LYRICAL FANCIES. THE TEUEST NOBLE IN THE LAND. The truest noble in the land Is he who strives to aid the poor ; Then let me proudly grasp his hand, And share his joys — I ask no more ! The noblest deeds are those that aim To sanctify the people's cause, To break their wrongs and hide their shame, And biud them with the kindest laws ! The truest noble ever born Is he who earns the people's thanks, Who may have won the hate and scorn Of fashion's proud and gilded ranks ; But honour crowns the honest heart, Whose strength is God-like for the weak, That fearless acts the hero's part And grasps the rights slaves dare not seek ! LYRICAL FANCIES. 43 God gird Thy power, firm as a shield, Bound him whose voice is loud and long For human right ; for he may wield His thoughts to cancel kingly wrong ! Kaise up a noble in each land To wrestle for the hungering poor ; To free the suppliant slaves who stand, At king's behest, in chains and gore ! By deeds true nobleness is made, And he's the noblest man who dares Each solemn cause of right to aid In words strong as a martyr's prayers ; And works to see each despot hurled Down from the throne his rule profanes, And in his mind can see the world In peace, uncurst by slavery's chains ! 44 LYRICAL FANCIES. SUMMER. No cloud is in the azure sky, The wind with odours laden The banks of thyme goes fluttering by, Light as a graceful maiden. The young geranium flowers unclose And swing in scarlet clusters, The bee goes humming by the rose Where dews make rainbow lustres. The sun upon the laurel shines, Unto the lark Ave listen, The woodbine round the hawthorn twines, The brooklets sing and glisten. The merry birds in blossoms hide, The poplars faintly quiver, Their shadows lying side by side Across the rippled river. LYRICAL FANCIES. 45 The blue-bells bloom iu trembling ranks. The distant meadows shimmer ; On breezy hills and emerald banks The golden gorse-flowers glimmer. All lovely things their charms unfurl And wed, for nought is single ; The rarest hues of pink and pearl Upon the wild rose mingle. Oh ! what a palace of delight Is earth with summer glowing, We feel each warm and starry night The scented south winds blowing. V^lien dies away the light of stars In glimmerings cool and tender, The east its rosy smile unbars To flush old earth with splendour. And like a lover earth is kissed, The sun, her lover, beaming And sparkling through her veil of mis! To wake her from her dreaming ! She wears through day's unclouded hours Gifts of her lover's wreathing, The while she proudly shows her flowers Her love in perfumes breathing. 46 LYRICAL FANCIES. FEOST ON THE PANES. The hills are mantled with the snow. It lies untrodden in the lanes, The north winds in sharp chorus blow Upon the quaintly frosted panes. King Frost a rare old artist seems, Now on the window trace his skill. Just as the sun now faintly teems His silvery rays adown each hill. See, on this pane, what magic scenes : A palace crowned with many domes, Such as might charm the proudest queens, Transcending all their sumptuous homes. There stand tall trees, whose leaves look blown By sudden tempest all aside ; And birds appear as though they 'd flown Among the tangled boughs to hide. LYRICAL FANCIES. 47 Aud on the pane beside there glows An image of a sleeping saint ; What grace about her drapery flows ! Her lips, how chaste ! her cheeks, how faint ! And there a forest rises up ; There fountains fling on high their spray ; A maiden with a floral cup Kneels down 'mong unblown flowers to pray ! Below, the open woods reveal Grass wealthy with luxuriant flowers, While gazing, on the vision steal Rare statues, obelisks, and towers ! What mimic grandeur and what grace King Frost can pencil on the panes, While through his work we dimly trace The snow-flakes in the fields and lanes ! 48 LYKICAL FANCIES. STAY, DEAK MAIDEN. Stay, dear maiden, in the dell, Stay until the night comes on ; With thy presence there 's a spell Lost, but loved, when thou art gone. Soon the moments pass away As I linger by thy side ; All my pleasure comes when day Down the reddened west has died. When like bright thought comes the moon, Eippling, floating clouds between ; When with dews the roses swoon. In my heart thou art a queen. When the zephyrs faintly blow, When the birds have ceased to sing, When thou whisperest mild and low, I am happier than a king. LYRICAL FANCIES. 49 Haste not from the dell, dear maid, Now the white moon floods the skies, Laurel leaves our forms will shade, Shrine each whisper till it dies. If the stars; love, watch us here, Ail thy beauty they must see ; I-'d not have them, love, too near, — They might win thy heart from me. If the winds thy curls have swayed, Made them flutter on thy cheek, Round themjjut a moment stayed, — 'T was thy grace they came to seek. In the meadow and the dell Day and night I own thy powers, And for time my love to tell I would make the moments hours. 50 LYRICAL FANCIES. AN ELEGY. No longer happy dreams are mine, I see no pleasure now in store ; Lone memories of the lost one twine About my heart for evermore, Pale fragments of the sweetest lore. The relics here of her I praised Serve only to unlock my tears ; The brightest idol ever raised Some tinge of sadness ever wears, Weaves sorrow for the coming years. The heart is made to hold the cares It fain would shun from childhood's morn ; The languid look its anguish bares : The gayest pleasures ever born Some darkened tint of woe have worn. LYRICAL FANCIES. M Ah ! could we ne'er recall the past, The present would have less of pain : The shadows on our pathway cast Would swiftly as the moments wane, And life far happier visions gain. A look ! what histories it reveals, What meanings oft start from a word ; The humblest death a life oft seals, Whose pangs are never seen or heard. Yet nigh to hopeless madness stirred. Some treasure for the heart we find, We place it there as child will lay A kind fond look upon its mind, That hallows it but for a day, Then glides in bitter tears away. Tin; truest hearts are soonest chilled, The fairest checks the soonest pale ; That life with woo the soonest filled Can speak the keenest, saddest tale : The rare t joys the soonest fail. \ poor dead idol now I see, In memory white and pure it strays : i tsk why was -he dear to me? Sin' Lived in Love's most roseate ra Ami Love in pensive passion prays. 52 LYRICAL FANCIES. Rest thou in peace, my lovely one ! Thy books are records ever dear ; Though like a faded star thou'rt gone, I have thy flowers and music here ; I look to heaven and see thee there ! LYRICAL FANCIES. THE AKTIST. Tired with the labours of the day. And wearied with their cares, An artist seeks bis bumble bed — .\sks God for belp in prayers : Few know tbejlceds and splendid works The man of genius dares. His mind aspires o'er earthly things In quest of high renown, lie only sleeps when woe bas crushed And bent, bis spirits down ; While, in his dreams he sees the blaze Of Fame's immortal crown. Too oft fir him earth's outward things Save hut ;i saddened look, lb- searche Nature for his theme, And reads it as a booL ; It buds and blossoms in his mind Like \ iolel in :i nook. LYKICAL FANCIES. radiant genius, thy rare touch Is as a magic rod, Great wonders hurst forth from thy skill As flowers rise from the sod ; Thou art the power by which we trace The majesty of God. Thou 'rt with the artist in his dreams ; Thou art a priceless dower ; Thou enterest his toiling mind As sunbeams flood a bower ; Thy fancies more enchanting than Pink blossoms in a shower. It may be that from marble block A form of grace appears — Like angel rising from a cloud — And praise the artist hears : The finished figure in his room Life-like upon him stares. Upon the canvas there may rise A form to glad the eye, In lines as though the pencil caught Its colours from the sky, When like a bright exhausted god, The sun sinks down to die. LYRICAL FANCIES. 55 Though want may come, it cannot blind His glance at Beauty's shrine, Nor blast the. images that live And round his genius shine : Though tortured with the cares of life His labours are divine. Oh ! great the power given to man, To view in humblest things Great treasures hidden to the mass — To soar on Fancy's wings To where grand Inspiration dawns And thought eternal springs. With sculpture and with painting too — They light the darkened mind. What life may from a statue gleam, Though marble -limbed and blind : For they who look at Nature's heart The path to greatness find. True genius is the lightning spark That leaps along the brain, And they who feel its quickening thrill Earn an immortal strain: The sculptor's and the painter's works I'll rough countless centuries reign. 56 LYEICAL FANCIES. Perchance full on the canvas lives The likeness of a maid, In softest sunshine she may smile, 'Mong water-lilies wade, Her curls close by her shoulders blown. As though by zephyrs swayed. Beside a low and rustic stile A graceful maiden stands, And near her lean white-blossomed boughs. Not fairer than her hands ; Her glance as bright as crystal drops Sunlit on golden sands. in lowly room, from marble cut, A massive figure towers, Upon the brow a grandeur sits, Sign of gigantic powers, Of one whose labours of the brain Each mind with wonder dowers. And there may stand a beauteous form Half naked — bosom bare — The glance, all bashful, upward turned — Hands clasped as though in prayer ; So perfect, that a look of grace Pervades her unbound hair. LYRICAL FANCIES. 57 thou poor artist ! Beauty's slave ! I venerate thy skill, Above thy fellow men thou art High as the grandest hill : With poverty thou should'st not meet Could I but have my will. 58 LYRICAL FANCIES. IN SORROW. The wondrous wheels of life will turn When I am seen on earth no more, The sun as bright in heaven will biu-n, The sea still flap the tawny shore ; The daisies still will snow the sod, The vestal snowdrop sweetly spring. The heavens reflect the power of God, The woods with birds' loud warblings ring. Sad thoughts of that dread time come on ; What is our doom when life is spent ? Our joys as soon as seen are gone, Appear but for one moment sent. Would I could live as lives the rose, Unconscious of a time of gloom, Or be the humblest flower that grows, Forgotten when I ceased to bloom ! This life, so short, so full of fears, Has only fitful dreams of rest : Where are the eyes that shed no tears ? And where is one unsorrowing breast ? LYEICAL FANCIES. 5'J To me the earth seems yet as young As when I lived in youth's fair clime, The sky as bright above me hung, The stars as silent and sublime. But I am changed, and feebler beats This heart, where hope is nearly dead ; Eaeh throb the warning but repeats That all its best delights are shed. 60 LYRICAL FANCIES. HER RAVEN CURLS. Her raven curls on shoulders fall Whose whiteness far transcends the snow. And yet that beauty is not all That dwells with her I yearn to know. What dew is to the summer flower Her lustrous glances are to me ; She dowers me with her witching power, — Her form in dreams I only see. What would I give to be the wind That lifts at morn her raven curls ; What would I give one hour to bind Her brow, as white as rarest pearls. E'en slavery will not leave the land While such a maid I daily meet : I'd give the world to clasp her hand, Or kneel a suppliant at her feet. LYRICAL FANCIES. 61 For light as snow-flakes on the bough She trips the flowering meadows o'er. While I have breathed an ardent vow To win her love — or love no more. Within my heart, as in a shrine, Her image dwells all bright and rare, And were the proudest empire mine 1 'd have no joy she should not share. 62 LYRICAL FANCIES. LADY GERTRUDE. Lady Gertrude is a young brunette With a pair of dazzling eyes Whose likeness in stars is only met When the moon begins to rise. Lady Gertrude has two clusters of curls Whose hue is a lustrous brown, And, sprung from a line of wealthy earh Has a brow to grace a crown ! .->■ Lady Gertrude in the garden strays And walks by the placid lake, And sees it kissed by the morning's rays When green leaves over it shake. Lady Gertrude has a fair wbite hand. Her cheek has a wild-rose hue, Lightly she'll kiss the lilies that stand In a morning dream of dew ! LYRICAL FANCIES. 63 Lady Gertrude has no haughty pride. Her voice has a silvery tone ; What would I give to call her my bride. And she to call rne her own ! Violets hidden in dewdaden dell So shy did never appear, A footstep lighter never yet fell On a listening lover's ear ! Lady Gertrude never heeds my looks, ^,1 worship her but in vain ; Were I but one of her treasured books What pleasure then I could gain ! Lady Gertrude with her harp in the morn In a vine -bower plays and sings, The sun, though it fails her form to adorn. Will toy with her jewelled rings ! Lady Gertrude is the dearest to me In summer and autumn eves, With her in the twilight I would be By the whispering laurel leaves. Lady Gertrude has a nameless grace And music in every speech, Beauty and love in her looks I trace, And see that she's queen of each ! 64 LYRICAL FANCIES. OUR TOILERS. Our toilers earth's proud kingdoms grace, They rear the glory of a land Where Labour's skill and might we trace, The wealthiest, proudest nobles stand. The subtle labours of the mind Give splendours to each nation's name ; That country blessed with art will find The brightest, broadest path to fame. Our toilers pile our golden stores, Are brawny giants of the State, The sturdy bulwarks of our shores, Men who have made Old England great. They bear their daily burdens well, And guard our throne with iron will, While other lands their valour tell, Awed with the wonders of their skill. LYRICAL FANCIES. 65 Our toilers are the men who build Old England's grandeur far and wide ; The mighty strokes of Labour gild Her seas and shores, her wishes guide. Our toilers strike each burning spark From Labour's heart to set like gold, And from earth's caverns cold and dark Our riches and our treasures mould. Stern Labour carves a nation's power, With Time it wrestles like a god, Stands up majestic as a tower, Surveys the skies or ploughs the sod. And everywhere its strength is seen, Aloud its strong great pulses beat ; Plains change to glory where it 's been, And nations through its prowess meet. 66 LYRICAL FANCIES. THE MISER AND HIS GOLD. Dark was the night, the raindrops beat And cracked on the window panes, While the winds went howling down the street And roared in the village lanes ; The black clouds hung like funeral palls Over the meadows and plains. Not a star was seen to deck the sky, Not an azure rent was seen, But all above was black as the face Of an Oriental queen : Not a sign was left to tell how bright The beautiful day had been. The leafless boughs of the giant trees Rattled like skeleton's bones, The restless winds in the gardens moaned Like a host of wrinkled crones ; The pitiless rain in a turgid stream, Rushed madly over the stones. LYRICAL FANCIES. 67 A iniser sate in his darkened room — Chilly and damp was the air ; He crouched upon the carpetless floor, Like a panther in his lair ; He listened and thought he heard a foot Slowly ascending the stair. A sickening thrill leapt through his frame, And his hands grew pale and cold, V;il quicker than lightning sped a thought That a felon sought his gold : In the rag that hung on his wasted form His meagre body he rolled. The walls of his room were dark and bare. The windows were dim with dust, No firelight flashed in the dismal grate, The bars were covered with rust ; For the miser pined for heaps of gold With a never-ending lust. o If sunbeams entered his room by day, 'Mid squalor they seemed to faint, . made the mi er's countenance wan, Like harlot's cheek robbed of paint : lin atony h".irl, !i! .<■ hi-; gli;i lly face bl irre I with a moral taint. f 2 68 LYRICAL FANCIES. He hated the genial light of day As it lay on his wretched hed ; His hrow was dry as an autumn leaf, And his eyes sunk deep in his head : Such eyes ! that ne'er showed feeling and fire. But cold and icy as lead ! For guilty thoughts ran over his mind, As lurid as burning coals, While anguish struck through his withered frame Like the pains in murderers' souls, The last few moments before they meet Their dreaded eternal goals. His shrivelled hands with a tremor shook And beat on the dusty floor ; The gold he had was dearer to him Than all a philosopher's lore ; His blood surged colder unto his heart Than e'er it had done before. A thought of a deed in years gone by Filled his mind with perilous dread ; Through the darkness on the floor he saw Blood-drops gleam freshly and red — The blood of one he 'd secretly slain, Like a curse before him spread. LYRICAL FANCIES. 69 He had lured a friend into his room, To whom he prated of gold, One winter night when the earth was white, Wrapped deep in a snowy fold : And long were the tales of hoarded wealth That miserable miser told. They talked till the midnight hour drew near. And the hideous miser planned A scheme of murder, and struck his friend With a knife clasped in his hand ; And the hot blood spurted from his breast. And smoked Tike a burning brand ! The watchful stars had sprinkled the sky, — Through the window peered like eyes, While the miser's face grew hot and red ; And deep were the dying sighs Of the bleeding victim at his feet, Whose presence he 'd won with lies. Il<- shook when he felt the gory corpse, And a chill crept like a snake, Clammy ami cold, to his iron heart When he bent Its gold to take : A pain shot through his shivering frame, Like culprit pureed with a stake. 70 LYRICAL FANCIES. Iii a secret part of his filthy home The plundered corpse he laid, And covered it o'er with rags and stones Until the flesh was decayed, Then broke the bones and buried them deep In a secret grave he'd made. Years glided on, and he ever saw The ghost of his murdered guest — For ever he saw him by his side, The gory gash in his breast : The miser's sleep was broken by groans, Like a murderer's last night's rest ! He thought he heard a foot on the stair, At the door a gentle tap, And the wrinkles round his evil eyes Were like the lines on a map, While a figure slid into the room In a whitened shroud and cap. The deepest darkness shadowed the room, And the miser dared not speak, Each hurrying moment seemed an hour. Each hour as long as a week, And as the ghostly figure walked forth The old floor began to creak ! LYRICAL FANCIES. 71 But faintly the miser dared to breathe, And his face grew damp and wan, Like torrents of lava through his veins The vile blood bubbled and ran. Oh ! great was the terror and dismay Of .that old gold-loving man ! Slowly the ghostly figure moved on, With a calm step to and fro, While before the miser's anxious eyes Young demons stood in a row — Large azure sparks from their fingers dropt, And fire -ring's circled each brow. A moment they stood, then disappeared ; Like statue the figure stood ; In his hand was clasped a club like Cain's, Of black and heaviest wood : The miser believed he saw it dashed And spattered with drops of blood. Now, suddenly, in that cheerless room Shone a light most faint and thin, The miser beheld not where it grew, Nor how it came gliding in ; With a Mistering force it seemed to scorch Hi filthy and wrinkled skin. 72 LYEICAL FANCIES. His tongue seemed palsied between his lips, His heart throbbed loud in his breast, As ponderous as an iron ball, And broke his chances of rest ; A host of horrors dwelt on his brain, Red phantoms around him prest ! Quick as when lightning strikes the eye Grim goblins about him stood, And capered awhile, then slid away, Each head bound up with a hood Of the whitest texture, stained around With fading blotches of blood. *5 Their limbs were wrapped in a darkened garb. And a skeleton each one held : When the miser saw their eyeless skulls The ghastliest terrors swelled In torturing troops upon his soul, Too raging to be quelled. The figure glared with its bloodshot eyes — Half-blinded the miser's look, Who thought upon the innocent life, For gold, he once basely took ; A blood- spot stood before his gaze Like a huge lie in a book ! LYRICAL FANCIES. 73 •• Where are the bones," the figure cried out, " Of that poor and murdered man, Whose guiltless blood on thy filthy floor In a smoking torrent ran ? Now justify that cardinal crime Against your God, if you can." The miser trembled, and not a word Crept forth from his stiffened tongue, When the figure cried, " Unto the damned Of the earth thou dost belong :" In the miser's ears young demons sang A wild and baleful song. And then from the figure's garments crawled A hissing and hungry snake, And upon the miser straight it sprang, — Pierced his body hkc a stake : He yelled and fell — no more on the earth To murder or to wake. The iigure then vanished, and the snake ; On the floor the miser lay ; And full on his cold and rigid corpse Streamed forth the li;_ r ht of next day : A 1 1« 1 yet in that room may still be seen His hones half mouldered away. 74 LYRICAL FANCIES. A DREAM OF THE FAIRIES. At eve, when wearied with my toil, I sat in quiet in my chair, And through the open window came In cooling waves the evening air, With fragrance laden from the flowers, That under opened blossoms swung, And where, like gleaming bowers of gold, Laburnum flowers in sunshine hung. Bleep came upon me, and a dream, With fames thronged, upon me grew ; And unto each the laughing queen Full-blown and dew-drenched roses threw. While round my chair they danced about, And with the odorous roses played, I thought I saw an ivory bowl Upon a bank of blue-bells laid. LYEICAL FANCIES. 75 The bowl was filled with sparkling dew, From which each merry fairy sipped ; Like rills their tiny laughter flowed — The tripping wantons — cherry lipped ! Young twittering birds around me flew, The fairies gambolled at my feet ; 1 saw their little silver wings, Like closing leaves of lilies, meet. The sportive elves around me came, And flung their roses in my face ; And then they ran 'mong purple vines, The amber-plumaged birds to chase. They frisked about my knee and smiled, And then they whispered in my ears ; I felt I could not sleep when teazed With such a pretty host of dears. Around the roses still they flung And, laughing, waved their silver wands, Then sang a strain I faintly heard, •• We fly, we fly to flowery lands.'' \ii'l next among the blue-bells hid — A moment only lost to view — Then hand in I land they danced around The ivory bowl of sparkling dew. 76 LYRICAL FANCIES. I woke ; that dream was like the thoughts That charm us when the heart is young ; When cloudless love and roses make The dearest pleasures seen or sung ! LYBICAL FANCIES. 77 A FRAGMENT. 1 believe in all that is good in man, In every creed, That helps to fcwm and mould a nobler plan. From errors freed. I honour the rich and pity the proud In every sphere ; Whenever I gaze on the toiling crowd My heart is there. 1 know the struggles of the helpless poor, For I have felt That gifts to them from pleasure's radiant store Are feebly dealt. And therefore 1 rejoice when men of power Their efforts give I him the people as a precious dower Thai they may live. 78 LYRICAL FANCIES. In darksome alleys where the toilers pine Should Love he heard ; There should Hope's bow of beauty ever shine, Joy speak a word. To help a brother is my duty first, To soothe his soul Ere deepest sorrows o'er him darkly burst And hot tears roll. The solemn histories of the hungered mass. Pens dipped in fire Could never write ; to graves they pass, Poor maid and sire, Unwept, unknown, save by the lonely few They leave behind ; To whom the world has not one hopeful view To charm the mind. Strange that in this vast hive where wealth Distress should reign, [abounds Homes ever ring with hoarse and hollow sounds From heart and brain ! Yet so it is ; then, nobles, lend a hand In causes just ; Like these poor branded brethren in the land. Ye are but dust ! LYEICAL FANCIES. 79 The shriek of madness and the brutal jeer Would grow more faint If mercy lent betimes a willing ear — Walked like a saint To where pale misery, like a wrinkled ghost. Unsmiling dwells, The haggard guest of poverty's lean host. Deaf with death-knells ! God placed his watchfires in the gleaming sky For man's delight, And each poor" Labourer should flourish by His skill and might. The poor one should not ever work in vain. Low as the sod ; Have faith, poor slaves ! and ye shall one day The help of God ! [gain 80 LYBICAL FANCIES. IN THE VILLAGE LANE. Our borne stands in the village lane, Where Spring's first blossoms blow, And where the sunsets slowly wane And spend their purple glow. "Where night is still, and not a breeze Is heard to stir the flowers, Nor sway the leaves upon the trees, I spend the happiest hours. I love the air when cairn and cool. And skies when they are blue, When water-lilies on the pool Lie pearled with morning dew. About our home the ivy grows, There lover-like it dwells ; Around a wavering shadow throws "When winds come from the dells. LYRICAL FANCIES. 81 I watch the moon rise pale as saint Above the plume-like firs ; I feel the wild-briar odours faint When not one leaflet stirs. The moon's light floods the affluent sides, Swims through the palaced clouds ; The murmur of a fountain dies, Stars pant in wealthy crowds. And when the Summer mornings wake My chamber windows shine Like ripples sun-fired on a lake, While slowly moves the vine. I bear the wild birds loudly sing Where daintiest blossoms blow, And through the vales their warblings ring Where moss-banked brooklets flow. And when the orchard trees are crowned With bloom, rare sweets are born — Tbe faintest odours, and dew-drowned, Wild roses blush at morn, A.B though afraid to show their leaves \\ itli dew- drops gemmed and hushed. Ami being kissed by summer eves, They met the morn and blushed ! 8 2 LYRICAL FANCIES. THE BIBD IS SINGING IN THE TREE. The bird is singing in the tree, Lightly falls the cooling shower ; But, maid, I am no longer free, I am captive by thy power. I would be free as yonder bird, Fluttering where the lilies are, And listen to each warbled word Linked to tones of thy guitar. Thy cheeks like apple blossoms glow, Dainty charms I yearn to reach ; Oh ! pouting lips, what raptures flow — Lips that lend a charm to speech ! Say, why should words of thine be spells, Fetters to enchant and bind ? By night and day thy witchery dwells Dear as treasure on the mind. LYRICAL FANCIES. 83 Didst thou but know my heart was thine Unto me thy own might turn ; fjweetest hopes of thee are mine, Hopes that with love's lustres burn. I'.y day and night I live the same, Wishing for thy heart and hand ; For fairer form and fairer name Never, never graced the land. Kline eyes, what bright alluring deeps! Spell-like orbs that lure me on ; Thy form in midnight slumber keeps Standing near me, worshipped one ! Hearts must have idols while they live, Gladdening well this world of ours ; To thee my heart I fondly give, Oh ! sweeter than the spring-time flowers ! 2 84 LYRICAL FANCIES. KATE. Lovely the light of Autumn hours, Lovely to walk with thee, dear Kate ; And lovely the blushes of the flowers — Lilac bloom at the garden gate ; And lovely to wander down the lane, Watching the sun in crimson swoon ; Watching the upland and the plain, Argently gleam in the rising moon. Lovely to listen to thy words When zephyrs the myrtles pass by ; When the evening has hushed the birds, And dissolved in a violet sky ! And happier far thy look to me Than the meadow, valley, or stream ; Heedless of care when elapsing thee, Entranced of the future I dream. LYRICAL FANCIES. 85 Lovely when morning's purple hues From the hills and the valleys fade ; Lovely to see how rich with dews By night Lave the meadows been made. I list thee, Kate, where laurels flower, And proud to thy presence I haste ; Briefer than moment passes each hour When fondly I 'm clasping thy waist. St5 LYRICAL FANCIES. LADY ALICE. In the sunshine in the garden I and Lady Alice met, When the bloom upon the peaches Like a maiden's blush had set. In a cool bower roofed with laurel Oft would Lady Alice dwell, In the waning of the evening, Toying with a silver bell. On a couch of richest velvet Still as statue she 'd recline, Reading lovely- worded poems, Lingering on each glowing line. Through her bower the rose's odours Floated on the zephyr's wings, And the sunshine kissed the diamonds Set like dewdrops in her rings. LYRICAL FANCIES. 87 I have envied oft the moonlight As I 've seen it braid her hair, Yet it lost its own pale beauty When it touched a form so fair. I was proud that daintiest violet Had no tint to match her eye, That its likeness only sparkled In a warm and azure sky. She 'd a mind of rarest beauty, Like a leaf as gently swayed, Sweet as moon that looks from heaven On the brightness it has made. In the sunshine in the garden, Or in her laurelled bower, Live my thoughts with Lady Alice As the perfumes with a flower. 88 LYRICAL FANCIES. IN THE AUTUMN OF THE YEAE. Slowly rising o'er the woodland I beheld the moon appear, Like a pale and naked maiden In the Autumn of the year. In the blue sky meekly palaced, Up the clouds it seemed to swim ; And the light poured like a river From its white and lustrous rim. And the lake had not a ripple Where the moon's rich image sank ; While its glory from the heavens Glittered down the blue bell bank. 'Round her orb the stars were trembling Like a swarm of golden gems, Till the queenly moon looked wealthy, With her burning diadems. LYRICAL FANCIES. 89 In the calm deep hush of Autumn, When the fruits hang round and ripe, When like golden orbs the apples Show a faint and crimson stripe — Then I feel a touch of gladness Playing round my heart and brain, And I listen to the whispers Of the wind among the grain ; For old Autumn is the artist Whose delicious beauty tips Fading leaves with hues of ruby, Fresh as glow of ruddy lips. And its hues of dainty amber Tint the hedges in the lane, When the sun sinks, flushed and vanquished. In his warm red splendour slain. On the past I 'm led to wonder As I muse at eve alone ; When I view in Autumn evenings Faded leaves from musk-rose blown : Like the hopes that fall for ever, Bearing joys too quickly o'er ; As a wave the moonlight tramples, Glimmers once, but gleams no more. 90 LYRICAL FANCIES. THE NIGHT BEFOEE THE WEDDING MORN. The night before the wedding morn With round cheeks flushed the maiden lies ; The veins about her temples seem Like sapphire gleam of summer skies. One arm was curved with such a grace That art of sculptor could not reach ; The faintest hue of pink it bore, Like snow-wreath tinged with blooming peach. Upon the pillow lay her curls, On either side a raven crowd. I ne'er before had seen a maid So beauty-dowered, so whitely browed ; Her shoulders, fair as whitest rose, Were warm and full, and running round Her brow a coronet was seen In midnight's mingled beauty drowned. LYRICAL FANCIES. 91 A scarlet flush was on her lips, That oped betimes, then gently stirred As though the maiden sought to speak In balmy whisper one sweet word. Full blown carnations never shed Such sweets as from those young lips flowed ; Such tresses never drooped before * In such a large and lustrous load. She lay hushed in the sunny morn, Whose silvery luxuries cast pale charms About her face and on her hair, While naked lay her unclasped arms ; Calm as a statue long she dreamed ; Her left hand, light and graceful, prest The model of a dove in gold, Couched on her ivory-tinted breast. LYRICAL FANCIES. TO THE MOON. Like maiden pale and wan with fear Thou swimmest up the murky night ; A star below thee, like a tear, Throbs in thy cool and snowy light. Like swimmer gliding to the shore I see thee climb night's spangled roof ; I would that I could with thee soar, Swathed in thy beams of silver woof. The starry night seems proud of thee, My sad gaze measures thy domain ; The stars around thee unto me Stand out like drops of golden rain. I watch the clouds about thee sail As banks of snow to make thee dim, While o'er their summits sadly pale Shines forth thy white and pearly rim ! LYRICAL FANCIES. 93 Oh ! voiceless virgin ! Maid of Night ! The sapphire sky's pellucid crown ! I revel in thy vestal light Whose rays the hills in splendours drown. Thou calm, unlanguaged goddess glow ! Oft with thy praise the lyre has rung, Thou 'st seen uncounted centuries flow, And still thou 'rt beautiful and young. I love to see thee gild the skies, Dissolving night's grand ebon gloom ; Old ocean in thy glory lies, Sleeps in thy white eternal bloom ! Thy smiles on tree and flower I trace, I meet them on the vernal sod ; Thou type of patience and of grace, The dumb great midnight's crest of God ! 94 LYRICAL FANCIES. THE STATUES. A palace door I entered and I saw In marble formed a naked maiden stand ; Her silent beauty filled my soul with awe, She held a lily in her right white hand. Through windows stained with violet and gold The light was flattered to her rounded face ; It kissed her neck, whose rare and ample mould Seemed the abode of Art's transcendent grace. The poppies at her feet had leaves half shut In cold, luxuriant clusters carved and cut ! Back from her brow her hair seemed lightly blown And down her shoulders in curled masses feU; Large signs of life unto her eyes had flown Like those that on a sleeper's eyelids dwell. LYEICAL FANCIES. 95 A nameless grace had made her polished look Appear half conscious of her unclad limbs, And from her bosom oft my glance I took As from a wave that dazzles as it swims. The soul of Genius in that figure taught The sterling wealth and wonder of a thought ! Hard by another sculptured form I met, 'Twas of a hero with deep furrowed cheek That told of labour ; and his lips were set As though i«ito the gazer he would speak. One hand was clenched, and swelled the rigid veins, Gorged as with burning blood his stalwart arm, — As though he strove to wrench a captive's chains, Or fiercely struggled for some wrested charm ; A tragic meaning in his glance long dared As if on some old hated foe he stared ! 1 1 is hard and wrinkled brow was deep and wide, No trace of smile upon the features played ; i nawed by death he would have firmly died With deep gashed heart cut by a focman"s blade. % LYRICAL FANCIES. A few stray curls around his shoulders hung, But time had left his massive temples bare ; Upon his face the sign of age had flung ; His iron frame bent with a weight of care ; "While from his stony eyeballs strong and stern, Like fire unslaked proud passion seemed to burn ! LYRICAL FANCIES. 97 WISHES Oh ! would I were the bird that pours His song into thine ear, I would not sigh for sunny shores While thou, my love, wast near. Oh ! could I choose my heaven on earth, I 'd whisper it to thee ; 'T would be all other pleasures worth — An Eden unto me ! If I were but the jewelled band Of gold around thy arm, I 'd glide betimes unto thy hand, And clasp it as a charm. I 'd be the poems thou dost read In summer evenings dim, That I might ;ill the glories heed That in thy dark eyes swim. 98 LYEICAL FANCIES. I 'd be the mirror where by morn Thou lookest in so sweet, To hold each smile when newly born, Then watch thy red lips meet. I 'd be a zephyr but one hour To wanton on thy cheek, To shake thy ringlets in a shower, And list to hear thee speak. The gem that glimmers on thy breast I 'd be, for I should shine With rarer beauty from such rest By winning charms from thine. Each thing thou ownest I would be, And feel thy warm caress ; By day a dove embraced by thee, By night a raven tress ! LYRICAL FANCIES. 99 THE DEAD ONE'S GRAVE Now pause awjiile, for here's the grave Of one who ever loved us well, As fair and good as she was brave — But poor this pen her worth to tell. Above her grave the low wind sweeps Like mourner's sigh, while in our hearts Her form its place of fondness keeps, And sometimes on our vision starts. Now all is darkness where she strayed, The pleasure once we felt is gone, In secret for her soul we've prayed — Our loveliest and our dearest one. With pale white hand she touched the flowers, And now they for her fondness pine ; We see her yet in midnight hours, All saintly in a marble shrine. 100 LYRICAL FANCIES. This stone above her grave records Not half the virtues of her mind ; The purest and the sweetest words For her dear name the living find. The timid blush upon each cheek Seemed there by loving angels placed : We thought that could the flowerets speak They 'd own her look their beauty graced. Upon some spot we linger long, Once graced by one who lives no more, As when we 're charmed by some sad song When all its melody is o'er. And by this grave we meet to rest, To shed the tears that grief has made : For hearts by sorrow daily prest Cling where then- poor dead treasure's laid. LYRICAL FANCIES. 101 TO AURORA. Aurora, gentle goddess ! did Orion clasp thy waist When first upon thy shining form His ardent glance he placed ? Say, were thy curls with dews besprent, And were thy feet sun -hound ? Did golden clouds thy radiant hreast Float lovingly around ? And did Hyperion see thee eye Orion in the chase, Thou sun-browed goddess of the morn With dew-besprinkled face ? Where didst thou gain thy rosy hues ? And was Tithonus thine ? When on Cephalus did thy look Of bliss begin to shine ? 102 LYRICAL FANCIES. Did Hesperus watch thy amours Ere Jupiter was born — Ere Venus through Adonis set Her foot upon the thorn ? Was Saturn envious of thy love ? Did Pallas gaze on thee ? Hast watched thy own rare beauties throw Bed glimmers on the sea ? Did Titan envy thee thy power ? Did Procris learn thy skill ? Didst gaze on bound Prometheus on The cold Caucasian hill ? Didst gaze on the Hesperian fruits Ere wise Deucalion stood On Mount Parnassus — ere was spilt In war the Titan's blood ? LYRICAL FANCIES. 103 IN YONDEB COT, In yonder cot a maiden lives, A simple maiden I adore ; And there the morning sunshine gives A kiss to ivy round the door. I see this cottage in the morn, Where dwells my poor but graceful maid And wish I 'd been a sunbeam born, Within her deep blue eyes to wade. Plain is her beauty, yet it bears A charm no words could ever paint ; The bloom upon each cheek appears As though 't were borrowed from a saint. And when the bees hum 'mong the flowers, And each its draught of honey sips, 1 'r touch its round white cheek ; It flits before me if I move ())• form my lips to speak ! 120 LYRICAL FANCIES. In secret oft a solace dawns To ease the heart of pain ; We may behold an idol lost Back with us once again, — We may not with a reverent heart Muse with the dead in vain ! LYRICAL FANCIES. 121 UNDER THE HOLLY. Under the hdly at Christmas time How gaily the moments pass ; Upon the trees the ermine rime Sparkles in a mass. The fire merrily burns On the polished urns, Ruddily gleams the wine in the glass ! While King Frost is bronzing the panes His fairy-like works we trace ; The hedges in the village lanes Twinkle with his grace ! On gossamer fines How his pearl-work shii" When winds in treble chorus race. 122 LYRICAL FANCIES. Now circling at the festive board Friends appear we love to greet ; We see the ripened wine outpoured, Hearts all warmly beat. Jovial tales are told Of the days of old, When brightest eyes and faces meet ! Warm on the walls the firelight shines, Throws a mellow tint around ; Gilding the home where friendship twines, Then comes forth a sound Of joy and of mirth, The sweetest on earth, Where beauty and pleasure are found ! LYRICAL FANCIES. 123 LINES FOE THE POOR. I 'd gladden the hearts of all the poor In every land ; The wail of sorrow should rise no more From that great band. The tumult of tongues and every strife I 'd gladly calm ; And peace should hallow each toiler's hfe, Sweet as a psalm. Ever pale discord shatters the springs Of love and peace ; When will this age that with madness rings Die out and cease ? When will shine out a lovelier day For bonda^i (1 men ? And ;ill tli<' earth's tyrants pass away, Despair cries — when ? 124 LYRICAL FANCIES. Had I the power to take the earth Unto my heart I 'd ease its sorrow, and labour's worth In songs should start. With a loving hand I 'd dry the tears That ever drown Its beauty ; like unto Christ it wears A thorny crown. In alleys and courts gaunt misery stands Up like a ghost Here, in this the noblest of all lands, And ruler's boast. And want never leaves unnumbered homes In this proud isle ; There poverty haggard and wrinkled roams With hideous smile. When will the magic of kindness reach The hearts of Courts ? Against whose foUies the prelates preach, And costly sports. Speak, prelates, to Nature where it pines With blinded eyes : Methinks I see that in the future shines Its horn- to rise ! LYRICAL FANCIES. 125 LOVE LYKIC. Come near, my love, this melting eve Reminds me of the days no more ; It tells me where my thoughts have been, Pale fragments of forgotten lore. Dost hear the birds sing far and near, And see the sun go down the west ? While from each blossom hangs a tear, Like opals on a virgin's breast ! Come by the window sit, my love, The perfumed breeze will fan thy face, Yon myrtle tree that heavens a dove Will shield from eyes thy sovereign grace. And we wiU talk of days gone by, In summer when we loved to meet, When clouds were palaced in the sky. Not whiter than thy tiny feet. 126 LYKICAL FANCIES. All earth was heaven to me, and long We roamed 'inong trees whose vernal shades Lent to the accents of thy tongue A sacred charm, my queen of maids. To thee sighs came from clover flowers, The air thy ringlets rippled round Thy shoulders in rare glossy showers, Like marble half in darkness bound. To me thou wast all that I sought, "With pride untold I worshipped thee ; What language is to noble thought Thy magic beauty was to me. Thou hast no equal, and thy mind Had thoughts as beautiful as psalms ; Each lovely word of thine I find My heart with gentlest pleasure calms. LYRICAL FANCIES. 127 A ROSY FACE AND CHESTNUT HAIR. A eosy face and chestnut hair Beguiled me in the hours of Spring, No other face I 'd seen so fair, Ne'er thought so much about a ring ! Would she be mine ? ah, would she say — Would she but only answer, yes ! I vowed I 'd name the marriage day, Make one unwedded beauty less ! She shed fresh beauties where she walked, Gave brightness to each leafy shade, To doves on myrtle b ranches talked, And more delight than music made ! Like summer's latest rose her cheek The faintest trace of crimson wore, Words would be poor its charm to speak, Of beauty there could not be more ! 128 LYKICAL FANCIES. And fresher lips I ne'er had seen, They made enchantment when they stirred, As sweet before there may have been, But none so formed to grace a word ! 'T was beautiful to see them part, And she, unconscious of her charms, As babe wrought by the sculptor's art, With moonlight gleaming on its arms ! That Spring was loveliest unto me, By day and night I lived in dreams ; In what we love we daily see Hope cast, like sapphire skies in streams ! I won the maiden's heart to mine ; Long years have passed and still she's fair; As freshly yet, as sweetly shine Her rosy face and chestnut hair ! LYRICAL FANCIES. 129 IF I SHOULD LEAVE THE EARTH ERE THEE. If I should leave the earth ere thee, I hope to see thee when I 'in gone ; I would then thou could'st gaze on me. My best beloved and faithful one. For we have loved each other well, In hoiirs of sunshine and in shade ; I would I had the power to tell The pleasant memories thou hast made. I I I die first, I hope to live Within thy memory — in thy prayers ; With gladness to thy life I 'd give A charm against e'en lightest cares. Though lone without me by thy side, My fondesl thoughts should all be thine And in this heart thy form should hide, Thy pleasures he as great as mine ! 130 LYEICAL FANCIES. If I die first, I hope my name Thou It whisper oft in after years ; The truest sign of love and fame Is proved by what the memory wears. We die not if we live with one In thought, in speech, we see no more ; For when the evening's light has gone, The scenes remain it glimmered o'er ! If I die first, I only crave Among thy treasures to be found, That thou wilt feel unto my grave By sympathy for ever bound ! Death only blinds life for a time ; The living know the lost one's worth ; The dead one lives a dream sublime, Whose mysteries have no place on earth. LYRICAL FANCIES. 131 AMID THE CLOVER. We 'LL walk amid the clover, Where oft the wild bee sips Pale nectar from the flowers Not sweeter than thy lips ; Where birds drink from the brooklets That murmur as they flow, And early bramble blossoms In pale pink clusters blow. In sunshine in the valley, Dear maiden, roam with me, And view the fragrant wild flowers Bowed by the loving bee. There 's music in the meadows In morning's balmy hours, When sighs like cooling perfumes Rise from the grass and flowers. B 2 182 LYRICAL FANCIES. The crab-tree's opening blossoms (How pearly, pink, and fair !) I '11 proudly pluck in masses, To wreathe thy glossy hair. And slowly we will wander, To rest beside yon stream That gushes on in silence And seems of clouds to dream ! In woodland and in valley Love's truest spirit dwells ; Heard when the low wind whispers And chimes the foxglove's bells. In nature's world, dear maiden, Love's simplest lessons lie ; Why not all hearts, like flowers, United live and die ? LYRICAL FANCIES. 138 SHE LIVES IN HEAVEN. She lives in jleaven, too fair for earth, Her life with us seemed hut a day ; There are no words to speak the worth Of one who passed so soon away. She walks with angels — she was one ; Round every thought she threw a grace ; Home darkens round us now she 's gone, — There is no sunshine in the place. We mourn her loss by night and morn, A Lid yet we know regret is vain ; 'T is true that pleasures brightly born Oft cud in agony and pain. Death hushed her voice when most we sought To guard her life from every care ; She lives and dwells in every thought ; So quickly dead — so deeply fair. I:;- LYRICAL FANCIES. Time cannot bridge the gulf between Our present love and past delight ; By memory's aid she 's dimly seen Through rare and radiant dreams of night. Within the mind her love will be As marble statue niched in gold ; And though her form we cannot see Its likeness memory wiU hold. 'T is only when some lives are o'er We learn their beauty, and we mourn ; Yet souls all beautiful wiU soar, And once again to Heaven return. And she we loved on earth so well We felt had left that higher sphere But for a moment, and to tell That angels sometimes wander here ! LYRICAL FANCIES. 135 WHAT SHALL I DO TO WIN HEE HAND? What shall"! do to win her hand ? I 've tried all things in vain ; I 've vowed by all things in the land, The open sky and plain. I 've told her that my love is deep, That idle dreams have past ; That this lone memory will keep Her form while life shall last. She heeds me not, but turns away, A sweet smile in her look, As beautiful as bloom of May Shut in a gilded book ; Her charms unclosing one by one Whene'er be moves or speaks, While pale pink hues lie dreaming on Her round and peerless cheeks. 136 LYRICAL FANCIES. In every step there is a grace That words could never tell : Where gleams of Paradise I trace, And love's warm glories dwell. For beauty has a power supreme, A spell that never tires, It tints the splendour of each dream, Each true emotion fires. What must I do to win her hand ? How shall I fondly plead ? As bright as sparks of gold in sand Her glances heavenward lead. The cords of this poor heart she thrills, I 'm bound in slavery's chain, I 've sought her by the lakes and rills, But sought and wooed in vain ! LYEICAL FANCIES. 137 MAIDEN BEAUTY. More gleaming eyes were never seen, With love they lighted up her face, As sunshine stealing o'er a flower Hah hidden in a shaded place. She looked as calm as saint at prayer, And sang as sweet as birds in dells, When amorous winds in morning hours Toy with the cowslip's perfumed bells. No marble whiter than her arms, Lips ne'er before were seen so sweet, Their hue was as the scarlet flush Of poppies 'mong the dewy wheat. Grace bad its I In-one upon her brow, Love made its heaven within her eyes, And there it shone as in warm morns A drop of dew on violet lies. 138 LYRICAL FANCIES. Upon her cheeks was placed a bloom Like coral tint on ivory thrown, As though she 'd lingered near a rose, And each for each had hourly grown ! Her dainty laughter made a sound More choice than music's lightest strain, And when she sang her lips unloosed Tones bright as April's sun-lit rain. Art could not add unto her charms, For Nature had defied its aid By giving grace to all her deeds, Proud of the beauty it had made. And in her heart true kindness dwelt, Plain in her every look 't was seen ; Eyes ne'er before beheld a maid More worthy to be crowned a queen ! LYRICAL FANCIES. 139 THE OPEN WINDOW Against the-open window We '11 sit as evening dies, The shadow of the yew tree Across the pathway lies. No bird is heard to warble ; The sun's red orb has gone ; In feeling now our young hearts Will vibrate, love, as one. The wind with gentle cadence A lovely murmur makes, And bows the leaves of lilies, The lilac-blossom shakes. It wantons with the beauty That dwells upon thy cheek — Through the window comes in whispers, As though it strove to speak. 140 LYEICAL FANCIES. Pleased with the charm that lingers About thy look of grace — Of Paradise a picture, Seen in the sweetest place ! As melodies from woodlands The cool night-breezes swim, In thy presence there 's no darkness And night is never dim. I love the open window, When day has gone to rest, And the night in sable grandeur Unveils her mighty breast. My thoughts fly from the present To days for ever past, While on the open window The young night's charms are cast ! LYRICAL FANCIES. 141 AN EPITAPH. Hebe lies a man who loved his country well, Who laboured for its greatness 'ere he fell ; In youth the hater of each cruel law, The stubborn foe of every wrong he saw. His zeal unquenched, though long he toiled in vain, Without one care the world's applause to gain. He saw with burning heart his brethren crushed, He heard their freedom cursed, their yearnings hushed ; And there arose within his valiant mind A power like thunder driven by the wind— A hope to raise his prostrate kinsmen's race Firm and unshaken us a mountain's base. 142 LYRICAL FANCIES. His gleaming thoughts with earnest words were crowned, While on his work each tyrant ruler frowned. Yet he was dauntless, and he dared each foe, His teachings grand as prayers for human woe. He saw the toiler, and mourned o'er his fate, Worked for the slave of every trampled state. He was the scion of a noble line, Not from the rank where " stars " and " garters " shine, But one of Nature's nobles, Thought's high king, Whose deeds will make the coming ages ring. 'T was he who struck the chords of Freedom's lyre, Woke hope from slumber, and with words of fire, That played like lightnings, gashing sullen skies, Moved forth the simple, and aroused the wise. He left a name his country loves — reveres, His memory washed with sorrow's coldest tears. A name he 's left that centuries cannot dim, His faultless life his country's fervent hymn ; His deeds will orb the ages yet unborn, Survive each petty despot's poisoned scorn, Cut paths of glory that shall lead to power. And make the poor an everlasting dower. LYRICAL FANCIES. 143 Sleep on, lost hero ! Fame for aye is thine, Hiprh in its radiant niche thy name dost shine ; Few lived so well ; thine equal ne'er was met ; O'er realms thy mind has blazed and shall not set ; Its strength, its force, o'er calumny shall ride — Love thrilled thy heart and Freedom was thy bride ! 144 LYRICAL FANCIES. A CLEAE BLUE SKY AND GOLDEN MOON. A clear blue sky and golden moon Shone sweetly o'er us as we strayed To grave of one who died too soon, Where figure knelt as though it prayed. The daisies stood upon the grave, The grass was shivering in the breeze, The winds in sadness seemed to rave, And breathe a requiem through the trees. The form that lay beneath the mound Was oft a solace in our woe ; And in her every look we found All that of joy we cared to know. Ah, poor dead lamb ! her grave is made A secret place to shed our tears ; In Memory's shrine her charms are laid, Though life a look of sadness wears. LYRICAL FANCIES. 145 Her voice no more will fill our ears, Soft as the music of a drearn ; No longer now her form appears, Dear as the sunshine on a stream. No more her cheeks can charm the rose, Her eyes the hyacinths eclipse ; Death never came before to close On earth such speaking eyes and lips. Che things she loved neglected lie, The paths*deserted where she strayed ; The couch on which we saw her die, The chamber where she nightly prayed. In death the beautiful embrace The memory with their untold worth ; They leave us lonely, but their grace, Transferred to heaven, shines down on earth. 146 LYRICAL FANCIES. THE VACANT CHAIR. The vacant chair stands by the fire. And those I loved are gone ; This heart in sorrow for the dead But feebly flutters on. The form I loved has passed from earth- A creature light as air, Whose memory evermore will bring Love for that vacant chair. That chair is sacred, for it tells In silent hours of night Of her who dwells in heaven now, Robed in immortal light. This relic of the faded past Unto the present bears The image of departed love, And sometimes claims my tears. LYRICAL FANCIES. 147 Things that belong unto the dead With reverence fill my heart, And play in life's strange scenes betimes A calm and solemn part. A faded flower or holy book Brings thoughts too deep to tell ; And she who perished long ago, In memory must dwell. And life, the contrast here of death, The deadtme's love embalms ; As the sublimest thoughts of God Lie beautiful in psalms. The simplest things oft charm the heart — A book, a lock of hair ; And fondest thoughts and dreams may cling About a vacant chair ! L 2 LYRICAL FANCIES. SONG. Those chestnut curls, I see them yet, Droop brightly down thy cheek, As beautiful as when we met, And I first dared to speak. I held thy lovely hand in mine, Asked thee to name the day ; I thought each moment dawned divine. And past like dreams away. Those chestnut curls have golden hues, Untouched, undimmed by time ; Soft as the glow of evening dews In some warm flowering clime. And when the sunset paints the west In June's most honeyed hours, Within this heart thy beauties rest, As summer rain in flowers. LYRICAL FANCIES. 141) Those chestnut curls seem proud to lean - And tremble o'er thy face, In tides of radiance, my queen, Sweet lovers of thy grace. Like marble idol seen in dreams I view thee when alone ; I see thy cheeks as in cool streams Wild roses blush full blown ! 150 LYRICAL FANCIES. THE GLOEY OF LABOUK Listen, friend, unto my story, There 's a moral in the crowd, Higher than the claim to glory, In the annals of the proud. List the earnest strokes of labour, As from iron blocks they ring ; See the arms that wield a sabre For a country and a king ! In the crowds of workers ever There 's a lesson for the vain ; On the land its chorus surges Loud as storm upon the mam. Knowledge springs from labour's battle As the gem comes from the mine ; For its blessings are immortal, With its wealth the nations shine. LYRICAL FANCIES. L51 At the forge brave labour swelters In the city's ceaseless hum, Never flagging, never resting, Though oft wearied never dumb ! Stem the spirits that long wrestle With the daily cares of life, With its suffering and its trials, And its never vanquished strife. As I walk,among the workers Oft my heart with love is filled, For I know their deeds and courage Every throne and country gild ! That the highest and the proudest Owe a fealty to the men Who delve in mine and quarry, And to toilers with the pen ! Those rare men who mould our morals Set great thoughts in language strong ; Men of every right the lovers And the foes of every wrong ! Labour solves the golden secret Of old England's wealth and fame Clasps her brow with gleaming chaplet, Btamps with sterling praise her aami ' 152 LYRICAL FANCIES. All the greatness of each nation From the hand of lahour springs ; Evermore its massive music Bolls around the world and rings ! Busy in the mine and mountain, Bearing verdure on the sod, Carving wonders out of nature, "With the bravery of a god ! LYRICAL FANCIES. 153 TWILIGHT REVERIES There is a sadness in the heart That comes upon us unawares That bows the struggling spirit down. That ladens life with gravest cares. The sadness may not haunt us long, Yet while it lasts we mourn and pine ; It comes, perchance, that we may see Beyond its darkness pleasure shine. In secret oft we 're made to weep When friends around may smile and sing : Our greatest sorrow sometimes comes From heeding not some trifling thing. While in the distance there may gleam A blessing that may cheer us on ; A heart to brave our present ills Would soon feel half the burden gone. 154 LYKICAL FANCIES. Bright clays may cheer us for a time And moments charm us as they 're born. Then all their glories turn to tears Like rain-drops in the face of morn ! Wherefore these changings of the mind — These pleasures that but briefly stay ? These hopes that in the future lie, That fade as soon as dying day ! And why these nights of long despair, Until the mind is wrapped in gloom ? Perchance the darkest thoughts we feel Are gifts that germinate with bloom. E'en every household has its woe, Some relic speaking of the past, That sends a sorrow through the mind Like dead leaf driven by the blast. It seems poor human nature's lot To feel through life some touch of pain- To struggle through the darkest hours And seek for gladness once again. Life's sum of happiness seems made Of luring smiles and many fears, As truest love is ever made Of sweetest laughter and of tears. LYRICAL FANCIES. 155 AN EVENING SCENE All red and warm the setting sun Upon the open casement shone, The clouds with golden tints were touched, And to the west went sailing on ; In at the open casement stood Geraniums, bending with their flowers, Whose leaves looked as though dipped in blood, Seen in the evening's dying hours. No sound was heard, save at the door The leaves of chestnut whispering low ; aw the sun sink down the west, Ami heard t ho zephyrs faintly blow ; They stirred the leaves of gilded book Upon the open casement laid, And with the young geranium flowers They softly toyed and calmly played. 15fi LYRICAL FANCIES. A dewy light, like morning mist, Swam slowly through the gleaming panes : No warble came from birds that hid 'Mong blossoms in the village lanes. A fountain in the garden played, Whose waters fell in murmurous showers, And near lush honeysuckles trailed, Clomb on the roof of secret bowers. We watched until the sun's red rim No longer lingered on our gaze, While dwelt about the radiant west A softly mellow-molten haze. 'T was then the winds came shivering down The garden 'tween the orange bloom, As evening's beauty slowly died, And night arose in silent gloom. The moon one moment lit the scene, Peered through the clouds that dimmed the sky, While near her orb a star would peep And twinkle like a laughing eye. One moment 'bove the fleecy clouds The moon would seem to ripple up, And in the lake her image place, Like sun-flushed pearl in crystal cup. LYRICAL FANCIES. 157 Love grows divine in such sweet hours, Upholds its truth and speaks its thought ; And finds more pleasure when alone Than e'er in honeyed dreams was sought ; And at the open casement oft I met my love in summer eves, When 'tween our whispers only came The tender rustling of the leaves. And when by night the winds have stirred The leaves of dark green ivy bowers, So icy cold the stars have looked Throughout the still and happy hours. Give me the long, long summer nights ; The httle casement opened wide ; When all the blushes of my love The beauteous night seems proud to hide. 158 LYRICAL FANCIES. BEAUTY. Oh ! beauty, in thy radiant span The universe is laid ; Thou art the dazzling throne of man, From sky to emerald glade. The mirror of that unseen God, By sage and poet sought, The silent crowner of the sod, The central throne of thought ! With thee I ever love to roam And own thy potent sway, Thou girdest up the rainbow's home, The gorgeous brow of day ! The great and good of every clime Thy looks all gracious claim, With passions earnest and subhme As martyr's couch of flame ! LYRICAL FANCIES. 159 BESIDE THE EVENING FIRE I sit beside the evening fire And view strange pictures of the past, With that delight that cannot tire, That charms betimes while life shall last ; I see the faces of the dead, Pale figures of the days no more, Young friends who briefly lived, then sped To join the dead who fell before. In lonely hours the memory goes In search of what we once held dear. And like a skilful sculptor -hows Forms of departed ones once near. And half alive again they eem, And smile by fancy's subtle aid, Till, filled with pleasure, oft we d< i m Death has but partial silence made. 160 LYKICAL FANCIES. Still gazing in the fire, we see The dying embers lick the bars ; A sign of what our end will be Ere souls soar past the far-off stars. The faces of the first we knew Start dimly on the slumbering mind, Faint as upon the darkened view Warm daylight falls on eyes hah blind. Some face we loved more than the rest A moment comes, then quickly dies ; The spot on which the form was prest Dies off, and then in ashes lies. And yet these pictures, in the eve Seen in the fire, some knowledge give : That the departed only leave This earth in other spheres to five. LYRICAL FANCIES. 161 THE MAIDEN'S VOICE There is a freshness in her voice That wins me to her side ; For lesser beauty than she owns True hearts ere this have died. Her equal I have never seen ; Her heart I cannot reach ; I tremble as I meet her glance, Yet lack the power of speech. I envy every spot she views ; I fain woidd be her flowers, Pressed fondly to her dainty lips In May's white blossomed hours. I ■• ■ race is every step ; There 's magic in her feet ; She u;ill. the earth as light and calm zephyrs o'er the wheat. 162 LYKICAL FANCIES. Her beauty realms me every hour ; Her captive I am made ; There is no shadow where she roams- She brightens every shade ! She is not proud, she is not vain — But never dare I speak — Yet were I asked to find a queen I know where I should seek ! I 'm bound in slavery day and night, And gladly wear the chain ; Its links are gold ; I would not break, For worlds, one link in twain. Could I my happy secret teU, My hopes might live no more ; But, while the doubt is in my heart, The maiden I adore. LYRICAL FANCIES. 163 IN THE COUETS AND ALLEYS BORN. In the courts and alleys born, Poverty's lean children mourn ; There are hearts with sorrow torn, There are brains that ever burn, Full of pain, Like a chain, Grasping limbs of slave by night Till the blood starts into sight. In these courts and alleys dwell Creatures who are born to pine, Suffering woes they never tell, Slaving on in Labour's mine. While fchey tire With desire All in v;iin for meanest things, Pained with hunger's torturing BtingB. M 2 164 LYRICAL FANCIES. In their homes no gladness wakes, Hot tears mount into the eyes, Each poor life of sadness takes, Each poor slave in misery dies; Glad to go From the woe He was born to bear on earth From the moment of his birth. Darksome, sickening homes they fill, Where the sunshine feebly pours ; In midnight slumbers only stiU, Prostrate on the cheerless floors, Lost in dreams, As in streams Children lose their treasured toys — Cares are lost perchance for joys. Jaded sires and famished maids Huddled in a starving mass, Touched by death the picture fades, Ghost-like, into graves they pass ; And they leave Few to grieve That their days on earth are o'er — Sad the funerals of the poor. LYRICAL FANCIES. 165 Pomp sets up no marble bust When some humble genius dies, But he mingles with the dust With no tablet where he lies ; He was poor, And no more Will he write his wants and wrongs, Ossian-like, in burning songs. Weary, waary are the hours To the poor ones of the land ; Hunger-palsied oft their powers, And like skeletons they stand ; While each face Looks the place Where despair clings solemn — sore, Carving wrinkles evermore. Misery writes upon the brow Like a carver on a stone ; Poverty the form can bow, Ere stern manhood's thoughts are Eyes grow dim [known ; As they swim With hot tears, and aching brain Throbbing loud as falling rain. 166 LYRICAL FANCIES. Hopes I cherish that a day For the poor may yet arise, When their woes shall pass away, Like a storm that slowly dies, And no shame Tinge the name Of the toiler through the land, Working with strong arm and hand. LYRICAL FANCIES. 1(>7 SITTING AT THE WINDOW. I w ks sitting at the window With the Lady Geraldme, On a gleaming eve in summer, Brighter l"had never seen, — I was proud as proudest monarch Sitting by the fairest queen. Through the window came the sunlight, And we saw the vine-leaves shake, While the swans were gliding stately All about the limpid lake, And we watched the shining ripples By the swans' white bosoms break. On the lake were opened lilies, Which the south wind gently stirred, With mi accent soft and trembling As the music faintly heard In a distant lmsh of blossoms, Blade l>y warblings of a bird. 168 LYRICAL FANCIES. In the room, upon the pictures Did the sunlight warmly stream, And the statue of a Cupid Stood as though in lustrous dream On a dove of marble gazing With a cool and icy gleam. Then I whispered to the lady, And her face was near to mine, In her eyes of deepest meaning Tender pleadings seemed to shine, Pure as raindrops seen at evening On the violet and vine. Long we whispered of the future, Love-thoughts came between each tone. Beautiful as birds that flutter Near us all unseen — unknown, When the perfumes from the jasmines Through the laurel trees are blown. Oft her brow the lady shaded With her little rosy hand, And her arms, as white as ivory, Were each held in golden band ; Curved like young moon were the dimples On her round cheeks zephyr-fanned. LYRICAL FANCIES. 169 Unto me her heart was given On that sunny summer day, Sitting at the open window, Where the gentle sunshine lay, When the clear lake's radiant ripples With the young swans seemed to play. 170 LYRICAL FANCIES. ON THE RIVER. On the river in the evening Soft and fair the ripples float, And like liquid gold come crowding, Breaking round our little boat ; And the willow droops and kisses, As a lover, every wave That leaps up in tiny splendour Thymy banks and flowers to lave. Not a whisper breaks the silence Of this evening's waning hour, And the coohng dews have clustered On each leaf and sleeping flower ; Now the opening hawthorn blossoms Loose then fragrance to the gale, And the clouds in stately beauty White as snowy mountains sail. LYRICAL FANCIES. 171 On the stream their forms are lying Glowing as they melt away In the hlue and starry distance That gleams o'er the perished day ; From our oars the water trickles, Mingles with the sleeping tide, And the stars are throbbing faintly Where the sun sank down and died. There 's an odour from the lilacs, And the lute is softly blown ; To the wood, its vernal heaven, The lorn nightingale has flown ; And we listen to its warblings, Poured upon the silent night, In our boat upon the river Gilded with the pale moonlight. 172 LYRICAL FANCIES. MAIDEN WOBSHIP. I would not fear death's visit, love, If I could see thee when I 'm gone, Behold thee on those pathways rove As when, my love, we lived as one ; For I could never love again Another form so dear as thine : When youthful years are on the wane, Past pleasures most unclouded shine. I could gaze on thee night and day, As I have done since first we met ; My love, I vow, knows no decay : It rose on thee, and ne'er will set. I 'd rarely take my gaze from thee, Pleased that earth held one angel guest, One who on earth was dear to me, My first enchantress and the best. LYRICAL FANCIES. 173 And could I make thy pleasures more, Thy life's dear moments on should glide Still as the waves that kiss a shore And die in laughter side by side ! From every care I 'd shield thee well, And to thy dreams Love's glories give, For with me thou wouldst ever dwell, And in thy mind I 'd ever live. As light as whispers from the west, First faintly heard in night's calm hours, I d toil to charm thee unto rest, Thou queen of all my thoughts and powers. My pride would be to see thee own No rival on the earth to me, And if my love has purely shone, Its truth and beauty sprang from thee. 174 LYRICAL FANCIES. LITTLE CHERUB Little cherub ! oh ! what wonder Beaming in those deep blue eyes ; Lovelier orbs ne'er trembled under, Ever shone through laughing skies. From those eyes there swims a lustre Mellow as the glimmering south, And with love thy dark curls cluster Round thy little radiant mouth. Little cherub ! in thy speeches I can trace all things divine ; Not one syllable but teaches That God's blessings round thee twine. Every glance gives me a feeling Of a holier state than this, All that's beautiful revealing — And what pleasure in thy kiss. LYRICAL FANCIES. 175 Little cherub ! though thou 'rt simple, When I touch thy dainty hand, And gaze on each cheek's pink dimple. Nearer Heaven I seem to stand ; For thou knowest not of sorrow With thy soul unskilled in guile ; Dreams of love from thee I borrow, Nestling in each happy smile. Little cherub ! worlds above me I behold when thou art near ; For thy gentle looks I love thee, Where sweet Eden-gleams appear. In thy presence hfe ne'er darkles — Dwells unclouded in thine eye That sweet light of love that sparkles Like a white star in the sky. Little cherub ! o'er thee hover Heaven's young angels day and night. May each lead thee as a lover — Ever spread thy path with light ; For thy beauty has embraced me With a charm of nameless worth : If it be thai Heaven lias graced thee. Paradise is linked to earth ! 176 LYEICAL FANCIES. WASTED DAYS/ Our wasted days, oh ! where are they ? Those bright and precious pearls of Time ; Gone to the darkness of the past, Like friends lost in a distant clime. They come no more — those wasted days — Fled swift as brightness of a dream. Gone as the picture of a cloud Glassed but one moment in a stream. T is from the past we learn our loss And see the gifts we 'd fain recall ; Alas ! their shadows faintly loom And on the mournful present fall. When flowers are blooming at oiu- feet, Unheeded oft we pass them by, And moments that have golden wings We never miss until they fly. LYRICAL FANCIES. 177 We look into the silent past — Dead hopes, dead blessings there we find, j .Lee fragments of the wildest thoughts That throng betimes a broken mind. Why should we mourn as hfe declines, When all its scenes are nearly o'er ? Youth looks upon the joy to come, And Age the joy that comes no more. One wasted day takes from our hfe A treasiu-c laid within our reach, The sorrows for its loss too late The truest, sternest lessons teach. Regrets are vain when round us chng The sad views of expiring years : Why tremble when through life's last hours The cold white face of death appears ? 178 LYRICAL FANCIES. A DIRGE Young maiden, thou hast left the earth, Too beautiful thou wast to stay ; Till now I never knew thy worth — We love things most when far away. This world was all too vain for thee, Its cares and strife thou couldst not bear Thou wast an angel unto me, And now in memory thou art dear. Thy life but like a moment seemed, And I was joyous by thy side, For o'er my soul thy beauty beamed Far too divine for earth to hide. Thou 'rt gone, and I am left to mourn. To walk thy favoured paths alone : Oh ! madness ! there is no return ; Bird-like, for ever thou hast flown. LYRICAL FANCIES. 17!t It seems that while we linger here Time robs us day by day of charms, Ai^d while some pleasure lingers near, Death folds it in his icy arms. A blessing comes and quickly goes — Leaves home like some deserted nest, And memory chugs to where it rose, And loves its first great loss the best. E'en so with thee, my dearest one, Thy books neglected round me lie. I scarce believe that thou art gone, So young thou wast to droop and die. Yet so it is ; and I must make Thy absence now one source of thought : In mourning for some loved one's sake We learn death tells what life ne'er taught. N 2 L80 LYKICAL FANCIES. THE SLEEPING CHILD. The child is nestling in its bed, And throws about its little arms, The curls dishevelled on its head Add grace unto its tiny charms. T is lost to care, it never knew The depths of sorrow, for its tears Last briefer than the morning dew The golden-clouded autumn wears. Now still one moment ; while its lips Blush deeper than the scarlet flowers ; From pleasure's cup it ever sips, As blossoms quaff of April showers ; The world to it is all unknown — What cares and sorrows it may meet ! What would I give that I might own Some days as glad and nights as sweet. LYRICAL FANCIES. 181 Her little brow is cool and white, The blue veins on its eyelids show As purest streaks of azure light Upon a path of frosted snow. May angels guard thee, little one, From every care and every pain, And thy dear life, when I am gone, Remain as now without a stain ! I ask a blessing for thee, child ; God grant that thou may'st never find One horn- when thou wilt be beguiled To deeds that show a fallen mind. I could gaze on thee till hot tears Unbidden to these eyes would start : Asleep, I see thy nature wears The beauty that transcends all art. IS2 LYRICAL FANCIES. THE VILLAGE AT EVENING The villagers have left the church, Whose tall and mouldering spire Stands in the sunset's dying gleam, Like column fixed in fire. The yew-tree there as mourner stands, Each branch a sable shroud, Perchance thrown o'er the mingled graves Of men once gay and proud. The shadows of the solemn elms Across the churchyard he, And clouds, white as the angels' feet, In groups dissolve and die. The faintest breeze the poplar stirs, Whose leaves it slowly turns ; The young grass trembles ; while the west Fire-robed and cloud-thronged burns. LYRICAL FANCIES. 188 Day's orb has gone, and in the lanes The ah is cool and sweet, And whispers soft as sighs of love Corne from the shivering wheat. As bells of silver lightly rung, The rill its music makes, And from the quiet scene the heart A nameless blessing takes. The light has wandered from the banks, The day has folded up Its volumed beauty, like a gem Shut in an ebon cup ; And lulled in peace the village seems, The birds and bees are still, The only sound that tells of life Breaks from the murmuring rill. 184 LYRICAL FANCIES. BACCHANALIAN Now from the silver goblets quaff Eed wine — the merry wine ; At care and sorrow let us laugh — Flame-like the tankards shine. We '11 drink to all good hearts that beat To aid each noble plan ; While at the festive board we meet We 're brothers, man to man. See how the wine-beads bubble up The goblet's gleaming sides : The red wine in the amber cup Fill up in crimson tides. Quaff to each maiden's beauty now, For beauty is our theme, For maids who love us breathe a vow — The wine -sparks redly beam. LYRICAL FANCIES. 185 THE STORM. By night T listened to the storm, I heard it strike the trees, It sounded like the sullen roar From organ's deep bass keys. The rain fell pattering in the street And down the gutters ran : I thought it seemed like to the tears That splash the earth from man. One moment and the storm was dumb, Then loud again it broke, The cottage shook, the huge trees groaned. Beneath its god-like stroke ; The sky was sable ; on the moor Down dashed the rain in linos ; The brooklet roared, the river writhed, Like black plumes waved the pirn 186 LYRICAL FANCIES. In blinding grandeur lightnings leapt And gashed the murky sky ; One moment calm, and then the wind In howling strains rushed by. I thought how puny were man's deeds, And yet how loud his boast, How poor his pride when ocean sings Hoarse anthems to the coast. I love, when storms the forests strike, To list them madly race, To hear the winds make cities shake With then- unequalled bass. When thunders roll like gods aroused, I gladly hail the strain ; While northern gales with furious clash Wring music from the rain. LYRICAL FANCIES. 187 IN HER LONE ROOM, In her lone room dwelt the maiden, And her cheeks were wet with tears, Though her heart with love was laden All her thoughts were tinged with fears ; Then she looked out from the casement, But no gladness lit her eye : Grazed she till the day had vanished — Left to earth a darkened sky. For the one she loved had fallen, Perished in his country's name, And his deeds had borrowed lustre From the mighty voice of fame. Long she 'd waited for his coming, Waited till her heart grew faint, Till she looked as white and speechless As a newly-sculptured saint. 188 LYRICAL FANCIES. And another sought to clasp her, But her heart was dead to him ; Scenes hefore that looked the gayest Were no more — the future dim. Not a smile e'er lit her feature, Pleasures from her mind had flown, Withered, and were lost for ever, Like the leaves from dead tree Mown. Day by day her brow grew paler, And the power of thought was o'er, Same as sudden pause in music Whose vibrations live no more. Near the village church she slumbers, Angel, while she lived, of love ; Now the earth holds but the mortal — The immortal is above. LYKICAL FANCIES. 189 THE VILLAGE SCHOOL. Here stands the old school in the lane, Here runs the little brook, Here stands the church with crumbling fane. Hard by yet builds the rook. Long years have gone since last I sped Along this ancient way ; The living teU me who are dead, The old, and those once gay. Tbe village green again I pace, And view its quiet homes, T see upon each living face Where Age like warrior roams. I trace a wrinkle on the brow, A dimness in the eye, I see how surely time can bow ( >in- form before they die. 190 LYRICAL FANCIES. I mark the house, long old and quaint. Where nay first years were spent, Upon the mind old memories paint The charms each moment lent. There was no sorrow in my heart, No care dwelt in it then, I thought the earth was but a part Of Heaven — its angels men ! I 've lived to learn such thoughts were vain, For ever they are gone, I feel that life has much of pain When manhood's years come on. That village school yet looks the same. And yet how changed my lot, Within its waUs my errors came. And yet I love the spot. In morning, when the simset gushed In at the open door, The dim old diamond panes were flushed. White radiance splashed the floor. And jasmines on the window grew, Bound crumbling waUs they ran, To hide decay, as Heaven, still true, Would shield the crimes of man. LYKICAL FANCIES. 191 THE WORKER, I wonder When I look around Why man should crush his fellow-man ; The earnest toiler, labour-browned, Has suffered since the world began, And those made wealthy by his skill But rarely heed his many woes ; And yet what grandeur in his will : What thanks to him each nation owes ! I look around, where proudly stand His noble works, proof of his worth, The marvels of his brain and hand Are fixed like wonders on the earth ; I see him suffer, and I mourn ; I love his patience, wben bis heart, Perchance like some half-shattered urn, With one more toucb woidd break apart. 192 LYRICAL FANCIES. And from his labour Genius stares, Full- eyed, as some large marble god ; I love him when his spirit dares To lift the rock, to plough the sod. In every age, in every clime, His stalwart deeds the eye can trace : Deeds that ah symbol the sublime And glorify his mighty race. Upon the sea his works arise, On every land through which we roam, The spires that point up to the skies, The cottage, and the marble dome. I wonder why he 's doomed to pine — The architect of wealth and fame : E 'en while his works through kingdoms shine He dies unwept, without a name ! LYEICAL FANCIES. 193 THE BKIDGE Oft upon this bridge I 've wandered When the day has gone to rest, And I 've seen the river darkling, With no wave upon its breast ; I have seen the tall elms mirrored In the river's lucent deeps, Where the morning's first glance glimmers, Where the evening's last beam sleeps. On this bridge I 've stood by midnight, Musing o'er this world of strife, On the strange and wondrous drama Of the toiler's lowly life ; I have pictured on the river Oft the faces of the poor, Deeply scarred and carved with wrinkles, Doomed to wear a smile no more. 194 LYRICAL FANCIES. I 've compared the peace of midnight To the jars of human crowds, To the battles of the living To the dead in whitened shrouds, To the sounds of joy and sorrow Ever mingling in our ears ; To the moments that bring gladness, To the hours made dim with tears. On this bridge I 've sought a solace, For I 've heard no human sound, I have felt my spirit haUowed, And the fairest blessings found. With calm ripples on the river Gleaming as they glided on, Breaking into liquid laughter, Seen but faintly ere they 're gone. I have pondered on the future, Looked with sadness on the past, Like cloud-shadows on the river Felt my hopes in darkness cast, That the noblest ones should suffer, And life's greatest burdens bear : Yet, oh ! peaceful as this river May man's future life appear. LYRICAL FANCIES. 195 RURAL SKETCH Above the corn-fields sings the lark. Soaring towards the azure arc Of Heaven on outstretched wings ; And floating smoothly as a hark, Aloud his carol rings. Cool showers have fallen on the grass ; The round drops glimmer as we pass On every quivering blade ; The golden lupins in a mass Tassel the vernal glade. There's fragrance from the flowering beans Like timid maid the wild rose leans With bosom near the rill That gambols on 'mill sylvan cenes, An