J t\ 
 
 Ul 
 
By the same Atithor. 
 Fcp. 8vo. price 45. 
 
 POEMS. 
 
 By META ORRED. 
 
 London : SMITH, ELDER, & CO. 
 
B E RTH O LD 
 
 AND OTHER POEMS 
 
Digitized by the Internet Arciiive 
 
 in 2007 witii finding from 
 
 IVIicrosoft Corporation 
 
 littp://www.arcliive.org/details/bertlioldotlierpoeOOorrerich 
 
BERTHOLD 
 
 AND OTHER POEMS 
 
 BY 
 
 META ^RRED 
 
 LONDON 
 SMITH, ELDER, & CO., 15 WATERLOO PLACE 
 
 1878 
 
 [J/i ri,i:hts rcscrvc-d} 
 
' There are two voices of Nature in the soul of the genuine 
 artist (that is, of him who, because he can create, comprehends 
 the necessity of the Great Creator). Those voices are never 
 both silent. When one is hushed the other becomes distinctly 
 audible. The one speaks to him of Art, the other of Religion ' 
 
 BUIAVER 
 
^S3 
 
 (3-75- 
 
 TO 
 
 A. F. M. 
 
 1878 
 
 ' T/iy love 
 Shall chant itself its own beatitudes 
 After its oton life -working. A chillis kiss 
 Set on thy sighing lips shall make tliee glad; 
 A poor man served by thee shall tnake thee rich ; 
 A sick man helped by thee shall make thee strong ; 
 Thou sJialt be served thyself by every sense 
 Of service which thou renderest. Such a croivn 
 I set upon thy head,~Christ witnessing' — E. B. B. 
 
 431 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 A Prelude' xi 
 
 ' Berthold ' 
 
 The Temptation . . . . . . . i 
 
 The Undoing 37 
 
 The Redeeming ....... 48 
 
 A ' Blazon of Lilies ' 
 
 1. ' Dear Eyes so grave and clear' . . • • 55 
 
 2. ' Life's Secrecy and Death's Revealing ' . . 57 
 
 3. Love's Worth 62 
 
 4. Night's Silences 64 
 
 5. The Trusting Soul . . . . . . 67 
 
 6. A Quest . 70 
 
 7. An Aftermath 74 
 
 8. Thou shalt be satisfied 78 
 
 9. A Sunset Thought 81 
 
 10. A Love Progress 85 
 
 11. Unanswered . . . . . . . 90 
 
 12. A Message 93 
 
 13. Miserrimus . . . . . . . . 96 
 
•iii CONTENTS. 
 
 14. Out of the Silent Land 98 
 
 15. At Last ici 
 
 Lohengrin ' 
 
 1. The Coming 105 
 
 2. The Curse 115 
 
 3. The Marriage 119 
 
 4. The Yielding 123 
 
 5. The Going 131 
 
 Songs for My Love to Sing' 
 
 1 . ' What the Wild Wind is to the Crisping Sea ' 
 
 2. * I plucked a Rose to send unto my Love ' . 
 
 3. ' Good -night, Beloved ! ' . 
 
 4. ' What shall I liken Thee unto ? ' . 
 
 5. ' There is a wild Bank in my Heart ' 
 
 6. ' You came and laid your two White Hands ' 
 
 7. * Beloved ' . , 
 
 8. * It seems to me all who have truly loved ' 
 
 9. ' Myosotis ! Myosotis ! ' 
 
 10. 'O wild winged Words ! arise and fly' 
 
 11. ' Richest and rarest of all the Gifts that my God 
 
 gave to me ' . 
 
 12. 'I gaze in other's Eyen to see ' 
 
 13. ' Would I were in yon Stars To-night ' . 
 
 143 
 144 
 
 145 
 
 147 
 148 
 
 ISO 
 151 
 152 
 153 
 155 
 
 157 
 160 
 161 
 
 Sunset at Quimper 163 
 
 «Heim-weh' 164 
 
 The Moon and the Brook 166 
 
 The little wild Will-o'-the-Wisp 169 
 
 The Remorse of Launcelot 1 74 
 
CONTENTS. ix 
 
 PAGE 
 
 A Spring Carol 179 
 
 The Angelus ,181 
 
 Fotheringay — a Fragment . . . . . . . 183 
 
 When the Long Day is done 187 
 
 A Robin Legend . . 191 
 
 In the Hereafter 194 
 
 Forgiveness . . . . . . . . . 198 
 
 The Unloved Dead 200 
 
 Flower Spirits 203 
 
 The Angel of Will 209 
 
 Follow Thou Me ........ 213 
 
 The Widow's Son . . . . . . . .216 
 
 After the Victory 220 
 
 A Requital . . 222 
 
 ' The Ride of Three Souls ' 224 
 
 * She minded not ' . ..... 227 
 
 * Love's Perfecting ' . . . . . . , 229 
 
 * Winter Violets '..,.. . . 232 
 
 When the King shall come .... . . 234 
 
 In a Vision of the Night .... . . 236 
 
 *IN Pace' 
 
 1. * Out of the Gloom-depths ' .... 243 
 
 2. * There used to come a Glory ' . . . . 245 
 
 3. ' The Flower's tender Beauty ' . . . . 246 
 
 4. * Oh ! my Heart is very weary ' . . . . 247 
 
 5. ' Lo ! the Night cometh, Star to Star doth shine ' 249 
 
 6. * Sweet and low, sweet and low ' . . . . 251 
 
 7. * I Leaned me out into the lonely Night ' . . 253 
 
A PRELUDE. 
 
 ' Vattene in pace, Alma beata e amata. ' 
 
 Go then in peace, Soul blessed and beloved ! 
 Pass thro' the shadowed Gateway of my life, 
 And leave the portals shaken. Thus removed 
 Th' erst unfelt signet of God's silence, rife 
 With death and separation, I who stood 
 In dreamy peace unwitting change in love. 
 Call piercingly upon the solitude ; 
 Stretch straining arms around, below, above. 
 And stagger in the loneness. Nevermore 
 Can I reclose those portals as before. 
 And hold thee in the silence, for the light 
 
xii A PRELUDE. 
 
 Struck piercing love's sweet darkness, as bedight 
 With glist'ning vesture thou didst gently move 
 God's signet from Life's portals' sealed groove, 
 And left them shaken, so that e'en to me 
 Might come a faint refection as they clove ; 
 And I might learn by purer light to see 
 The whole of Love's vast meaning perfectly. 
 
II. 
 
 Nel Voler vostro sta la Voglia mia.' — Michael Angela. 
 
 Thp:n let my will be ever one with thine. 
 O beauteous thought of deepest love divine ! 
 Shine out with clearness thro' the coming years, 
 Most like the eyen of Christ thro' dying tears. 
 Shine out so awful, so compelling sweet, 
 That all my woes and sins drive like a sheet 
 Of flaking snow aside, and nought I see 
 Save its grave light and godlike mastery. 
 Held by its meaning, like the arms of God, 
 Let me press on, nor deem the lengthening road 
 Too dreary for my lagging feet, but so 
 From weakness unto strength perpetual go ; 
 And yielding thus mine all till Life be done, 
 In v/ill, in heart, in soul, we may be one. 
 
'BERTHOLD* 
 
 A LEGEND OF THE VOX-HUMANA-STOP 
 
 A.D. 1500 
 
ARGUMENT, 
 
 An organ builder is possessed by the absorbing desire to 
 execute a most perfect work of Art. 
 
 He toils, works, dreams, and thinks ; striving not so 
 much for Fame's sake, as for the joy of complete utterance of 
 his noblest Aspirations, till his very thoughts arise, phantom- 
 like, and tempt him to his undoing by urging that to achieve 
 any one perfect work he must sacrifice all other affection 
 and longing on earth. He is to slay his Love, and deny thus 
 the power of God to prevent his attaining his wish. 
 
 He yields — and finds in the winning of his desire the death 
 of all joy in its completion. 
 
 — Yet his Undoing proves likewise his Redemption. 
 
berthold: 
 
 THE TEMPTATION. 
 
 She sat on high, sweet singing like a thrush 
 
 All the long summer day above the gate 
 
 In grave old Bruges town, nor cast a thought 
 
 To any of the pageantry below 
 
 That wandered in and out. No dainty coat 
 
 Of blazoned arms, no velvet coif nor cap 
 
 Enriched with pearls, beguiled her quiet gaze 
 
 Or thoughts. The tumbling pearly doves alone 
 
 Like little clouds soft floated past her ken. 
 
 The creepers nodded sagely i' the sun 
 
 And whispered many legends of old time 
 
 As all the year they sprouted, bloomed, or died. 
 
 A noble spike of flowers golden and brown 
 
 Sent dreamy odours to enrich her thoughts 
 
 Of him, her Berthold, husband, lover, all. 
 
 B 2 
 
4 ' berthold: 
 
 She spun the glittering flax, and thereby sang 
 Sweet merry lilts. She was a gentle soul, 
 A sweet pure spirit with a human heart, 
 Most passionately loving ; and her joy 
 Wasloving Berthold, loving only him. 
 The livelong day she sat alone and webs 
 Most dainty like to gossamers did win 
 From out the tangle and the golden curl. 
 Or else she swung the golden bellied pans 
 Across the embers, stewing luscious plums. 
 Or lusty apples peeled, with here a nip 
 And there a dainty bite to save the rind. 
 Or else would knead and bake some savoury 
 
 cake 
 That filled the chamber with a russet steam 
 Just where it kissed the embers turning brown. 
 Or last, when sunset lights athwart the trees 
 Sent silver from the poplars, rose and gold 
 From briar, ivy, or the ancient vine. 
 And bells were clanging from the misty town : 
 To prayer, to praise ! for lo ! the day is done. 
 When peasants wended by their empty wains 
 Their journey homeward from the hum of men, 
 When children's voices shouted clear and far 
 
' berthold: 5 
 
 With shriek and laugh and merry jibe and jest, 
 When priests would pass and wave a blessing 
 
 hand 
 To maidens lifting rosaries, and wives 
 Leaned out and shook a kirtle here and there, 
 And men were letting burdens fall, and care 
 Seemed over for the day and silent night 
 Was creeping o'er the sky with starry hair ; 
 Then when she knew her love would quickly 
 
 come, 
 She stopped her spinning, turning t'wards the 
 
 wall 
 With joy her ancient wheel, and smiling, 
 
 smoothed 
 Her dark-hued kirtle and her bodice close 
 Unloosed a little, stroking off the shine 
 Of gleamy threads of flax, nor heedful drew 
 The string again but left the rounded snow 
 Of linen-shrouded bosom fuller space, 
 For all the sun-motes dancing witchingly. 
 She threw the lattice wider, leaned her out, 
 And caught her small hands full of odorous 
 
 bloom 
 Of flower from the walls so golden bright. 
 
6 ' berthold: 
 
 Soft pressed it 'gainst the sweet cup of her Hps 
 Till all her breath was as the fields in May ; 
 And flittering summer-flies would swoon and 
 
 die 
 For love of her and beat transparent wings 
 As starry shadows on the flowerbud's crown 
 Upon her breast. 
 
 Hark ! slowly lifts a step 
 Upon the stairs. Swift like a bird she flits 
 Towards the door, a swallow's darting flight, 
 Then paused — and all the light, the opal light 
 Of Day and Night's fast mingling mystic shades 
 Into sweet beauty, holy, strange and rare. 
 Lit up her face with mystery like a pearl. 
 His step was coming nearer on the stairs : 
 Her fair slight body wavered like a reed, 
 Her arms spread forward like a pluming pine. 
 Her head drooped full of ecstasy, a bell 
 Of dew-drenched clematis, her little feet 
 Stood ready for a step, yet did not stir. 
 
 The door stood wide, and then the twining 
 
 curl 
 Of arms was round him, on his bosom pressed 
 
'berthold: 7 
 
 That soft bright head, cool flowers filled his arms 
 With odours, and her heart-beats told the rest. 
 
 Then on one chair, one broad old chair and 
 
 strong, 
 They sat them down ; he weary, dusty, worn. 
 With heavy toil, with anxious thoughts, and 
 
 dreams 
 Of high ambition, yet withdrawn awhile 
 By this sweet love to peace, his aching brows 
 Cooled with light touch and kisses soft and 
 
 fleet. 
 She took his doublet off with quick deft hands 
 And smoothed the dusty creases noiselessly. 
 And brought clear water sparkling like the 
 
 snow, 
 And bathed his quivering temples and his hair ; 
 Then knelt to draw the buckles and the strap 
 Of his strong shoes, and clasping kissed his 
 
 knees. 
 And all the time she murmured to herself 
 This little simple song, so softly sweet 
 He scarcely caught the words, yet knew them 
 
 too. 
 
BERTHOLD. 
 
 Song. 
 
 He was her hero, her king and her lord, 
 
 O ! weariful trouble and toil. 
 She loved him so utterly, saying no word, 
 Save prayers that God and the angels heard. 
 O ! Heaven, his soul assoil ! 
 
 He was an artist, grave, pensive, and sad, 
 
 O ! weariful trouble and toil. 
 She cared for nought else so long as she had 
 One glimpse of his face, then her heart was 
 glad. 
 
 O ! Heaven, her soul assoil ! 
 
 She watched from her window from day to day, 
 O ! weariful trouble and toil. 
 
 She knew he must pass to his work that way. 
 
 Did he upward look he would sometimes say : 
 Dear Mary, thy soul assoil ! 
 
' berthold: 9 
 
 She had loved him, it seemed to her, all her life, 
 
 O ! weariful trouble and toil. 
 And one autumntide he asked her for his wife, 
 And the whole golden world with heaven 
 seemed rife. 
 
 O ! Jesu, their souls assoil ! 
 
 ' Ah ! foolish little one ! ' he smiled and said, 
 
 * When wilt thou finish what the artist did ? ' 
 
 * And this was all ! ' she said, with glowing eyes, 
 
 * For love is greatest, on the earth a king, 
 And he had loved.' 
 
 * How ! did he never rise 
 To what would make the many pause and turn, 
 And say : Ah, noble heart and brain and hand. 
 Thou hast achieved what no man else has done, 
 A perfect work beneath God's sun : thy praise 
 Shall round through ages to a perfect bell, 
 And sound thy name a tocsin to the world ! 
 Did he no more than love ? poor worthless 
 
 wretch ! ' 
 She bent her head, then, raising sweet wet eyes, 
 
 * Love is most noble, Berthold, true and pure 
 It raised him to the angels, godlike, strong. 
 
lo 'berthgld: 
 
 His spirit rose enthroned on love, and bore 
 Most noble work. Rare is the soul that loves 
 With perfect love.' 
 
 * Sweet ! sweet, how sweet thy son^. 
 Is't not too sweet perchance, too idle, vague t 
 I do appeal ! ' 
 
 He spake, and flinging wide 
 His sinewy arms, rose to his utmost height 
 With head straight poised, an eagle on the wing, 
 With statured limbs, with delicate grasping 
 
 hands. 
 With curling lip, with nostrils quivering, 
 With eyes aglow like gems with liquid flame. 
 ' Speak ! speak ! am I not noble, strong to work ? 
 Would'st thou not rather I should toil and strive 
 To win a name whereat all men should bow, 
 Than only live to love though perfectly ? ' 
 
 ' Thou art my king, my hero, artist, love ! ' 
 She said, adoring, clinging round hfs knees, 
 And kissed his surcoat, all within her reach. 
 
 ' Pray then,' he cried, with ringing trumpet 
 voice, 
 
'Berthold: II 
 
 ' Pray that my name may grow and blaze a star 
 Down to far ages, that all men may cry 
 Berthold the Artist ! Berthold, noble, great, 
 Artist of Bruges, organ builder — oh, 
 I will that this shall be ! ' 
 
 She was erect, 
 Close clinging round his neck and stopped hi? 
 
 breath 
 From further utt' ranee with her own soft lipr. 
 
' berthold: 
 
 II. 
 
 THE UNDOING. 
 
 Then the night fell, and many soft-winged 
 
 things 
 Made merry in the dusk, and clusters pale 
 Of creamy guelder-roses swung a toll 
 For all the short-lived beauty of the day 
 'Gainst the dim pillars of the sculptured gate. 
 Then did they sleep. 
 
 Most like a flower cusp 
 She lay and smiled. Her gentle limbs lay still, 
 Entwined her arms clung softly round him there 
 Where his heart beat hard pulses of sad fate. 
 Her hair fell, shivered amber to his feet. 
 And gilded all the gloom, her sweet mouth 
 
 clung 
 With faint perfume, upon his lips a moth 
 Had not more gently swung. 
 
 He lay full length, 
 
' berthold: 13 
 
 Straight like a column fallen in the night 
 From some rare temple of the Titan gods, 
 Of purest art and yet a fallen strength, 
 His arms tossed restless like a weighted bar 
 In some horloge, with clang and beat of woe. 
 A set strong passion creased the marble brow 
 And drew black fingers down the hollow jaw, 
 His breast heaved sullenly with throbbing pant, 
 Then sank and stilled. 
 
 Black-winged like to death 
 A Thought upclomb and stood a horrent thing, 
 Weird, ghastly, lurid, like to flames new lit. 
 That jet and leap in hellish winds and draughts, 
 And whirled till all his brain was wild and mad 
 With struggling choking passion to be great, 
 Great ! great ! great ! Greatest, like a king or 
 God! 
 
 And circling in gradations sweet and low, 
 Came Nocturnes falling like an after-thought 
 Thro' the swung lattice set ajar for warmth, 
 Not that he heard or cared, for chirring loud 
 At the pale casement hung a hovering owl. 
 
u ' berthold: 
 
 Then rose a Shadow 'tween the beatings dull 
 Of wavering thought and flickerings of his mind. 
 He saw it not, yet conscious that it hung 
 Above him like a weight, he strove to rise. 
 And battling fiercely, uttered smothered sobs 
 Of bursting dread. 
 
 The cold chill dews of death 
 Fell round him like a river, parting swift 
 The dark strands of his hair ; then leapt his 
 
 blood 
 In flying tumult to escape the cold, 
 And tingled in his eyeballs, cracked his lips, 
 And smote wild stings of agony and pain 
 Down thro' fine nerves to every finger tip. 
 
 Hung the great Shadow whispering thoughts of 
 
 dread. 
 To wile his soul, and no more wondered he, 
 But, like a murdered thing dead gone to Doom, 
 Lay motionless — a light blown out at dawn. 
 
 Swift o'er his lips came bubbles thick with words 
 That pattered like to leaves against a wall 
 With broken clamour. 
 
'berthold: is 
 
 * What is worth of will, 
 Of any strength at all until we try 
 And measure our strong hearts against all Time ? 
 I will not pray. . . . God gave me strength of 
 
 will, 
 And in that strength, I will to stand alone.' 
 
 Shrunk into nothing like a vapour foul 
 Slain by the sun, the Shadow faded past. 
 And Light, most beauteous, entered suddenly 
 That clouded brain. 
 
 The Nocturnes on the wind 
 Swayed louder with a sweet dissonant wail. 
 Still upwards beat the light with gentle wave 
 Pure Hyaline straight from the Throne of God. 
 And Voices thundered from the damned and lost: 
 Bow down ! bow down ! and worship at His feet, 
 O ! had we heark'ned on that long past day, 
 When us He came to cherish and to save ! 
 
 All hail ! All hail ! 
 
 A great tone wave and sound 
 Of harping came, and with it came the Lord, 
 With sweet grave eyes, and holding wounded 
 hands 
 
i6 ' berthold: 
 
 To help and save. 
 
 * I will to stand alone ....!' 
 With lifted brow defiant Berthold said, 
 Then shrank as Light swept past and left him 
 
 dark. 
 The night owl chirred, the lattice sprung and 
 
 swayed, 
 And in the distance went a wailing cry 
 Of Spirits grieving, whilst before God's Throne 
 His guardian Angel smote with awful crash 
 The life-strings of his harp, and let it fall 
 A meteor through the stars jarred into space. 
 
 Impalpable the Shadow hung, a form 
 Vast as a thought grown thro' a lifetime's dread, 
 And held a crown full set with gems, aglow 
 With lurid light that hissed, and wheeled, and 
 
 died. 
 Ware was he not of any evil thing 
 Until the sound of slowly dropping tears 
 Struck on his heart like flame, they fell so slow 
 Full steeped with anguish most unutterable. 
 
 He neither spake nor stirred, for instantly 
 Another vision rose and silenced him. 
 
'BERThold: 17 
 
 Fame, Love, and Death together strove, all pale, 
 To wreck each other grasping at the crown 
 With clutching hands. 
 
 Love failed from overweight 
 Of tenderness hung round her like a shield. 
 Which dragged her down in trying to step o'er 
 Her falling foe. 
 
 Fame grasped the coronal 
 And shouted loud defiance of grim Death, 
 Who darkling smiled and smote him thro' and 
 thro'. 
 
 Then Death with grisly joy held out the prize : 
 * Wilt thou the victor be o'er Fame and Love, 
 Stretch forth thy hand and strike a pact with 
 
 me ! 
 I'll yield thee power such as angels deem 
 Too great for any save their God, and thou 
 Beyond all knowledge wise, beyond men strong, 
 Shalt perfect be in every mortal work.' 
 
 He grasped the crown. ... 
 
 (Dead Love rose up and cried !) 
 O noble soul ! so strong to stand alone, 
 C 
 
1 8 'berthold: 
 
 Yet fallen like a stone from out the wall 
 The great God raised, at passion's finger touch, 
 Roll ! roll ! and scatter fragments on thy way 
 To pave for evil deeds the path to Hell. 
 
 A muffled bell smote out the hour, and high 
 Went whistles of the wind with shriek and cry 
 And beating wings whirled sullenly, a roar 
 Of Voices clamoured in the murky air 
 With clarion peals and silver trumpet-calls. 
 A laden Soul was driven thro' the stir 
 With clinging hands faint grasping all in vain 
 At Shadows ; whilst there thundered on and on 
 A litany of horror till the morn. 
 
 A LITANY. 
 
 {Semichorus of Earth Spirits.) 
 
 Lost ! lost ! lost ! lost ! a human Soul. 
 
 Toll ! 
 
 Toll! Toll! 
 
 Toll ! Toll ! Toll ! 
 
 Toll! 
 
'berthold: 19 
 
 Whirl on, thou mortal Soul, 
 
 Thro' mist of sin and dole ; 
 
 Weep bitter tears of blood, 
 
 They shall not ease thy mood. 
 
 For thee too high and good. 
 Thou hast thy Lord withstood, 
 Thus ours — thy Soul ! 
 
 (Semichorus of Angels}) 
 
 Not all is lost, whilst God's dear Son, 
 Eleison ! Eleison ! 
 Kyrie ! 
 Eleison ! Kyrie Eleison ! 
 Kneels lowly at the Mercy Seat, 
 And showeth blood on hands and feet, 
 And crown of thorns most awful sweet. 
 
 {Semichorus of EartJi Spirits) 
 
 Lost ! lost ! lost ! lost a human Soul. 
 
 Toll ! 
 
 Toll ! Toll ! 
 
 Toll ! Toll ! Toll ! 
 
 Toll ! 
 
20 'BERT hold: 
 
 Strive, fail, and toil for nought, 
 Till mortal strength and thought 
 In madness wildly wrought 
 To Death and Hell are brought. 
 
 Eheu ! for company 
 Come down to us and see 
 For ours thy Soul ! 
 
 {Full chorus of A ngels) 
 
 Not all is lost till God's great Son, 
 
 Eleison ! Eleison ! 
 Kyrie ! 
 Eleison ! Kyrie Eleison ! 
 Unfolds His banner gloriously, 
 Cries to the Nations : Lo ! I come ! 
 God in Eternal Majesty ! 
 Unrolls the scroll at Day of Doom, 
 Sends His forgiveness thro' the tomb. 
 O'er Death and Sin the Victory won ! 
 
berthold: 21 
 
 III. 
 
 The wall-flowers died and all the springtide 
 
 waned ; 
 The ancient vine hung berries here and there 
 To stud with gems the autumn's coronal. 
 Red pinks stood jerking in the summer wind 
 With playful wile to flout the butterflies 
 That quivering hung, like petals fairy tost, 
 Above the gentle blossoms of the briar, 
 Sweets linked to pain ; and merry bridals made 
 The myosotis and the lily leaves 
 Round the deep moat, and shouting waters 
 
 ran 
 A leaping race, and silver cymbals shook 
 'Fore the brave banners of the golden flag. 
 
 Her spinning was all done ; she sat most sad 
 With grieving eyes before the lattice wide, 
 
22 'berthold: 
 
 And thought of him, her Berthold ; hour by 
 
 hour, 
 By day and night alone, alone always. 
 
 He came no more with slow step on the stairs, 
 And threw the door and left it, catching her 
 In widespread arms, and kissing quick her eyes 
 Till, like to faint for overweight of joy, 
 She backwards drew. No more he hearkened 
 
 now 
 In dewy dusk to merry lilts of song, 
 And smiled and mocked her little sayings wise, 
 Or stretched out weary knees, or leaned his 
 
 brow 
 Against the snowy linen of her vest, 
 Whilst vesper light stole solemn o'er the sky, 
 And low their voices sank, and dreamily 
 The little bats flew past, and God's peace lay 
 Above the sleeping beauty of the day. 
 
 No more, no more ! ah, never any more ! 
 The days drag slowly, yet the nights are long. 
 She turns and finds a vacant space, and lays 
 Her tender palms together where his head 
 
'berthold: 23 
 
 Had erewhile used to lie, and with faint breath 
 Prays for his soul. 
 
 Why is it that no more 
 He leaveth now that organ chamber far 
 From any haunts of men, but toils and toils 
 In that old tower, silently and lone, 
 At the great organ rising day by day 
 More fully in its building wondrously ? 
 Why is it that in all the deepest tones 
 And sweetest in their sounding, great and small, 
 There rings a thrilling strain most sorrowful ? 
 As carefully and with a master's hand, 
 Them in their places tuning firm he sets 
 With knitted brow and trembling upper lip, 
 A sound pathetic rings, a creature's cry 
 Heard i' the night appealing all in vain — 
 A sound unearthly solemn and most dread, 
 The last wail of a thousand souls gone down 
 'Neath whelming waves. 
 
 Right weary, worn, and faint 
 He seemed to her, and craving for her love ; 
 Yet chidingly and cold he sternly bade 
 Her forth again what time she last had gone 
 To tempt him thence with love and tenderness ; 
 
24 'berthold: 
 
 Had shuddered at her touch, and from her lips 
 Had shrunk as though in pain. Yet when she 
 
 wept, 
 Had caught her passi'nately and strained her 
 
 close. 
 And kissed her till she cried with difference. 
 Yet then with gloomy brow had said, * Quick ! 
 
 quick ! 
 Hence ! get thee forth ! nor pause, nor stay at 
 
 all; 
 For oh, I love thee, therefore bear with me, 
 And help me in my striving and my toil. 
 Lift not thy foot to touch the lowest step 
 Of this lone place till all my work is done. 
 And gloriously my organ shall arise 
 And thunder out glad paeans to the sky. 
 Come at the Advent singing if thou wilt, 
 And we will sit together, thou and I ; 
 And let the town come shouting glad acclaim 
 At perfect work. Begone ! begone ! begone ! ' 
 
 That time seemed long ago and never yet 
 The Advent had so lingered ; all this year 
 The berries would not ripen, and the sun 
 Shone palely woebegone ; the very birds 
 
' berthold: 25 
 
 Flew forth no more to other lands, but sat 
 In clusters on the housetops. 
 
 O, for wings ! 
 To fly unto his window, peep within, 
 And pipe a Httle carol in his ear. 
 He unawares. A harmless small brown thing, 
 He would not mind her so ; and oK, how sweet 
 To watch him all day long from that steep ledge 
 Where twisted ivy hung a perilous flight 
 Of airy steps, or nestle 'neath the eaves, 
 Close to the gargoyle's chin. 
 
 Now for the past 
 They say wish ne'er again, but O, to her 
 There rang a refrain to the little saw : 
 Come Advent tide ! come joy and love to me. 
 And beat slow time with rapid angel's wings. 
 This is the little song I'd sing to him, 
 She thought, and wove with smiles these rhym- 
 ing words. 
 
 Song. 
 
 Come ! come to me ! 
 
 Before the summer rank 
 Hath shed with merry prank 
 The flower from the lea. 
 
26 ' berthold: 
 
 Come ! come to me ! 
 
 Before the autumn tide 
 Hath had the time to chide 
 The red leaf from the tree. 
 
 Come ! come to me! 
 
 Before the winter bold 
 Hath had the time to cold 
 My passi'nate love for thee. 
 
 Come ! come to me ! 
 
 I care not how it be, 
 With flower or with tree, 
 Or winter grim and hoar. 
 Loud shouting at the door ; 
 I care not how it be, 
 
 So thou but come to me. 
 
' BERTH old: 27 
 
 IV. 
 
 In that lone tower, thro' the day and night, 
 Worked Berthold silently, with scarce a pause 
 For hasty food snatched hard and dry, and 
 
 mould 
 Grew often on the wheaten bread 'fore he 
 Could think to use it. Fasting, haggard, wan, 
 With large bright eyes and shrunken limbs, he 
 
 worked ; 
 His doublet tore, no nimble needle ran 
 A scale of stitches o'er the ragged edge. 
 His hair grew lank and clung adown his throat ; 
 He seized a knife and cut it from his eyes. 
 
 Great spiders watched his toil with globose eyes, 
 And pined with empty 'masculated jaws, 
 Yet would not quit their nets which, filled with 
 dust. 
 
28 ' BERTH old: 
 
 Hung thick as tapestry, a curtain rank 
 Athwart the windows, barring light and air. 
 
 He heeded not ; he only lived to work. 
 His breath rose with the hammers, fell as quick ; 
 His ev'ry pulse sprang 'gainst the striving tools. 
 His sinewy arms and master's guiding hand 
 Worked out his thought with power, tho' neath 
 
 the strain 
 In each strung nerve he trembled where he 
 
 stood. 
 
 In strange dim hours his head would fall, and 
 
 sleep 
 Rushed o'er him cloudlike, still the brain 
 
 worked on ; 
 The hands would turn and twist, the great drops 
 
 fall. 
 He was an awful spectre, and the wind. 
 Forcing a jocund entrance, wailed and fled 
 Before its breath had had the time to cool 
 His deathlike face or sweep the drops away. 
 
 It was the night the solemn holy tide 
 
 'Fore St. Cecilia's day ; the sweet chimes rang 
 
'berthold: 29 
 
 A hymn to her that loved all music so. 
 And Berthold paused. . . . 
 
 A heavy silence lay 
 On all the earth save for the pealing bells ; 
 The starlight, pure and pale, held silverly 
 Tideway against the moon. Small puck'ring 
 
 lamps 
 Burnt faintly with dull oil before his work. 
 
 He gazed, and all his heart burnt in his eyes : 
 It was a noble thought wrought out of pain, 
 This organ rising 'neath his master's hand. 
 His weak limbs braced themselves, the spent 
 
 force sprung 
 Refreshed anew to toil. What now to him 
 The many hours when work seemed all in vain, 
 Despondency sat foul a hooded thing. 
 And he but worked because his will seemed 
 
 bound 
 To move and move his limbs till Dooming Day. 
 He saw it now, the organ nigh complete. 
 Fair rising to the domed and vaulted roof 
 Of this old tower ; pride beat triumphant stroke 
 Upon his heart, and swift his hot blood ran 
 
30 ' berthold: 
 
 A swelling course of joy and conscious skill. 
 For this ! for this I lived and not in vain ! 
 On his pale lips the thought's untimely birth 
 Died in the throes of speech. 
 
 The Shadow's height 
 Rose o'er him, echoing went his words : 
 For this ! for this ! O, very worthy, noble 
 This work of thine, this high aim of thy life, 
 As others, hast thou toiled and toiling failed. 
 Yea verily, yet lower in thy fall 
 For falling from an higher altitude. 
 Vast, endless as thy thought, this work shall 
 
 rise 
 A monument of fruitless, vain endeavour ; 
 And thou dost stand and glorify thyself 
 An angel perfected in thought and deed. 
 O human, mortal miserable thinker, 
 Within short space this organ thou dost laud 
 Shall seem to thee the weakest of creations — 
 Discordant, jarring, incomplete, and vain ! 
 
 I hear ! I hear ! ' he cried ; ' my brain doth whirl, 
 Full of discordant clamour, thund'rous roar. 
 The chords leap crashing. O Inhuman Strength, 
 
' berthold: 31 
 
 God, Devil, Power of Earth or Air, or Hell, 
 Whate'er thou art that temptedst me erewhile, 
 Take out my soul and wring it small as dust, 
 A midge's wing in morsels ; thro' each hair 
 On this corruption that I call my life 
 Wreak centuries of anguish ; grind my flesh 
 Till like a vapour thin I only am 
 To prove my misery ; but in requital give 
 Strength to create a wondrous fabric here, 
 That perfect in its parts shall rise and be 
 A monument supreme of power and grace. 
 That when the weary listen, and its voice 
 Goes in melodious thunders echoing, 
 Peace, such as God gave Eden, shall sink down 
 And fill all hearts with restfulness and love ; 
 And hot mad eyes shall fill with soft'ning tears, 
 And men shall save their souls as I lose mine.' 
 
 He paused, the bells ceased and sweet voices 
 sang: 
 
 When the Dream of Life is o'er, 
 Come and past for evermore^ 
 Who doth still our cold hearts clai^n ? 
 God—praisM be His holy tiame. 
 
32 * berthold: 
 
 When we weep lone brokenheartedy 
 For the love of the departed, 
 Who heark'neth from the Throne on high ? 
 God — the Saviour ever nigh. 
 
 When we waste affectioiUs breath 
 On the sleeping face of Death, 
 Who weepeth for onr agony ? 
 God — the God of Calvary. 
 
 When we sink with dying moan, 
 All forsaken, wrecked, alone. 
 Who leans with mercy from above ? 
 God — whose very name is Love. 
 
 He thought of days when erst his mother sang 
 This hymn to him, as echoing went the strain : 
 In Te speravi, Domine in Te. 
 Then with a shudder sank his burning head 
 Atween claspt palms. 
 
 * Too late ! too late for me, 
 For I must die ; and why not die, since life 
 Can never yield what most I crave. Come death, 
 If so I gain the power supreme to stand 
 
' BERTHOLD: y^ 
 
 And wear fame's crown tho' on a fleshless brow. 
 Yet come there Life or Death shall this hot 
 
 thirst 
 Burn up my grieving heart and thralled mind. 
 For tho' I clomb to Heaven and shook the gates 
 They would not let me thro' ; tho' all the world 
 Should bow and die and Nature cast her crown 
 Before my feet, I cannot make again 
 The simplest thing that crawls despised of men. 
 'Mid great wrecks strewn though I should stand 
 
 alone 
 An awful king — what mocking empery ! 
 King of the slain — no life, no cry of birth — 
 Creation of my own, can ever fill 
 The hollow of my ear. ... So let me die 
 The death of all, since Death is good as Life.' 
 
 Again the Voices rose with changing strain : 
 Non nobis Domine non nobis, sed 
 Tibi ; and all the rest of that great psalm 
 Rolled grandly down the wind ; and fury wrung 
 His heart all powerless, thinking how high 
 Beyond all striving Heaven was for him, and 
 wrath 
 
 D 
 
34 'berthold: 
 
 Seized on his brain till blasphemy like foam 
 Flew from his lip. He rose and raved aloud : 
 
 * A worm no more to strive and faint and fail 
 And writhe 'neath fruitless toil ; I'll be as great 
 As God and wield such power as no man yet, 
 What though I lose for e'er great Heaven for 
 
 this ? 
 I'll sin till in the Day of Doom my Soul 
 Shall stand an awful outcast far beyond 
 The King of Hell. I'll wreak this vengeance 
 
 dire 
 The very devils shall tremble, all their scorn 
 Turned black to horror, bitter laughter choke 
 In their gaunt throats, and rage insensate gripe 
 Their very vitals at my horrent state 
 Thus far beyond, and swoll'n with blasphemy. 
 Their torturing power. God will not give to me 
 Perfected work for toil ; I force Him thus 
 To find a soul as level as Himself 
 Who dares be damned, yet bids Him stay His 
 
 hand 
 Till I have done what I do will ; and then 
 To die. I shall have had my will 'fore He ! * 
 
'berthold: 35 
 
 Then softly singing up the stairs came she 
 Singing the Advent Hymn. A palsy shook 
 Him where he stood; the voice came sweetly on, 
 Low in its cadence and resolving chords, — 
 A sound from far away of seraphs' joy 
 O'er one redeemed, for glad, heart-glad was she 
 The time was o'er. 
 
 Within the dusky tower 
 The light lay cold and grey : 
 
 ' O God ! her voice ! 
 God ! God ! I do appeal here where I stand : 
 Strike me to utter ruin, blast my work, 
 But save her — for Thou canst, and Thou alone ! ' 
 
 Still softly singing up the stairs came she. 
 
 Life came to him again ; he leapt and barred 
 The massy door, hurled in the empty womb 
 Of the great organ all his tools, that clanged 
 With procreant pain foredoomed to sad use ; 
 And circling went a sound he felt, not heard : 
 
 * Thou hast declared thy choice, and no decree 
 Shall alter now ; stand by thy words and work 
 
 D 2 
 
36 ' berthold: 
 
 Them fully out. Her body and thy soul 
 Shall make one awful sacrifice; and thou 
 Shalt win 'fore God.' 
 
 The bolts leapt out, the tools 
 Lay 'neath his hand, and singing in she came. 
 
berthold: 37 
 
 V. 
 
 Upon the threshold still she stood amazed, 
 
 Beholding the great organ rising fair 
 
 And stately, pregnant with sweet sound and 
 
 praise. 
 Her soul rushed to her wondering eyes that 
 
 filled 
 With dewy light reflecting all his joy 
 In this his last, best work. With forward pace 
 She stole on him, and slung adoring arms 
 Around his neck with words of reverent love : 
 
 * My Berthold now content ! for never yet 
 Has work of art so perfect seemed to me.' 
 
 But cold like death he drew from her embrace 
 And muttered harsh, a voice from out the 
 grave : 
 
 * Touch me no more : lay never more thy head 
 Upon my breast ; kiss me no more lest sin 
 
38 'berthold: 
 
 O'ervault my heart — vile, vile, most vile and 
 
 base 
 I stand 'fore thee. O my beloved ! gaze 
 Not on me so with breaking heart and eyes. 
 Thou would'st me flee could'st but in part 
 
 divine 
 The thoughts I've harboured 'gainst thee. Oh ! 
 
 no more 
 My own, my love ; yet never did I dream 
 Of aught so fair in woman saving thee.' 
 
 Quick sprang her hands, so gentle in their 
 
 touch. 
 Athwart his stammering lips ; and smiling she : 
 ' What then to me thy thoughts ? like little winds 
 That shake a wood-flower's cup and toss away 
 Some fly, 'neath glittering armour, doubtless 
 
 worm : 
 I care not for it ; Berthold, look at me ! ' 
 
 But he : ' Not so — I dare not look on thee.' 
 
 Some prescience of the curse fell suddenly ; 
 She stood with linked hands, and from her lips 
 
' berthold: 39 
 
 Broke a low wail of pleading misery : 
 
 ' O Berthold ! hast thou doubted of my love ? ' 
 
 He answered not, but stood as one long dead, 
 
 And surging on her with full empery 
 
 Came knowledge of his grief and bitter ruth. 
 
 With both her hands she drew his to her heart 
 
 And laid her face on them ; thus clinging close, 
 
 A flower in the night, a celandine 
 
 Starring a rock, nor recking as it swung 
 
 Its head for quick'ning, of the approaching slime 
 
 Of twisting creatures, or the writhing coil 
 
 Of strangling rings. 
 
 The anguish on his brow 
 Deep'ning, he drew her close and kissed with 
 
 storm 
 Her parting lips, if so he might assuage 
 With her pure soul the thirsting of his heart. 
 
 Most awful in the pause the dread Voice called : 
 ' A woman's love is but a chord struck once 
 Upon the lifestrings of man's destiny : 
 Wilt yield for this Fame beyond Earth and 
 Time } 
 
40 'BERTH old: 
 
 'Tis a slight bridge to Life her tender form, 
 Pure freed from dross and stain, the golden 
 
 gates 
 Will open wide, and she will ent'ring win 
 Love for Eternity.' 
 
 With horror rife 
 She whispered 'tween his lips : ' Dost hear them 
 
 too. 
 Vague mutterings of hell, my Berthold ? nay 
 I do but dream.' 
 
 * A dream,' he said, * may I 
 Ne'er dream again. Hush ! answer me with 
 
 love : 
 What would'st thou render, thinking lovingly, 
 That I might raise a perfect god-like work. 
 For ever lasting, and for ever best 
 Of all the works of Earth or any world ? ' 
 
 She raised her eyes, and all her womanhood 
 Shook in her voice : * O Berthold ! my beloved, 
 List for short space, for love's sake, patiently. 
 I feel that thou art tempted by fell Powers ; 
 Thy soul appeals to mine in jeopardy, 
 I loving thee so dear. Oh, God is great 
 
'Berthold: 41 
 
 And merciful always, and very nigh, 
 And in the being tempted is no sin — 
 In falling only.' 
 
 There she paused and failed. 
 He shook with passionate force her body slight, 
 And laughed as low she cried: 'But with 
 prayer.' 
 
 * Prayer ! prayer ! go to it who there will, I find 
 No profit in it — rather less ; God lets 
 The suff'ring nations weep and lave the steps 
 Of His great throne, a small gnat's singing pipe 
 Would stir thee more : I've prayed till I am 
 
 dumb; 
 But in the silence now I will to work. 
 The world moves silently, in silence grow 
 Great names ; I will be great till fame shall fill 
 My soul, as sound bursts from the organ pipes 
 With more than mortal strain. I'll sin for that, 
 Would'st thou likewise } ' 
 
 'What if I died instead.?' 
 (With shudd'ring pain.) * I see it in thine eyes. 
 O Berthold, if I died for thee, the woe 
 Would be as nought since love is dead thro' sin. 
 
42 ' berthold: 
 
 But oh ! thy soul — that I who love thee so 
 Should thine undoing prove, ah ! bitterness 
 Past death. Dear God, be pitiful and save ! ' 
 
 'Fore her spent cry he trembled where he stood, 
 And turning spake : * 'Tis past — what tho' my 
 
 soul 
 Is lost, and fame and love : I cannot slay 
 Her so.' 
 
 She clung to him and kissed his eyes, 
 His arms enfolded her, those bounding hearts 
 Beat piteously as one. 
 
 Again the Voice, 
 A whisper thro' the air fell mockingly : 
 ' What is her life to her } She tells thee nought.' 
 
 Roughly he seized her then, full filled with wrath, 
 And she shrank not from him, but gently spake : 
 ' Gaze, gaze on me, beloved, and so assuage 
 My pain. In depth and purity my trust 
 Re-surges at thy clasping as God's light.' 
 
 * Dost trust me then t ' he answer'd. * Ay, thou 
 
 may'st, 
 It is not much to die an we die young.* 
 
'BERTHOLD: 43 
 
 ' I will not struggle ; see how still I lie. 
 Berthold, my love, my love, tho' I am young 
 Thy love has past from me ; come, gentle Death, 
 And still my worthless heart since so he wills ; 
 Yet kiss me, Berthold, in love's memory.' 
 
 He kissed her eyes, her hair, her sweet, sweet 
 
 mouth. 
 So gentle and so loving as she lay, 
 A pearl within the rough shell of his arms ; 
 And furious tore at his mad heart the while 
 Ambition and the devil's lust of power 
 And longing to excel. 
 
 Back like to one 
 Who dying dreams of life came thought of days 
 When he to her was king, she — paradise 
 To him ; yet now she lay a bar, a slight 
 Small thing removable, and yet how full oi 
 
 weight — 
 Did he but press one finger, hard and cold. 
 On her small throat, the ivory sceptre round 
 Of it would snap. Should he but take her hair 
 And wind a strand of it, a cable fine, 
 'Twould bear the strain of life, yet strangle her. 
 
44 'berthold: 
 
 O ! not to think, for ever to be blind 
 
 In eyes and heart and soul, and see no more 
 
 The organ in completeness ; failing her 
 
 A wreck unfmished. O ! to feel his love 
 
 Supremely beautiful, the noblest thing 
 
 In all the earth as erst she used to say, 
 
 And rise on its strong wings spread full of light 
 
 To highest Heaven, and crave but perfectly 
 
 To worship Him. . . . (Love lay dead still, nor 
 
 cried 
 As in his dream. . . . The knotted arteries 
 
 sprang 
 In either hand, the cruel fingers stole 
 Adown his belt . . .) yet no ! . . . O wretch 
 
 infame ! 
 To ponder this, she trusting in his arms. 
 He loves her not — love is a gentle thing 
 And he all hard. Why doth she tempt him 
 
 thus .? 
 What unto her quick death 1 — beyond the stars 
 She'd never know his fall, and he was ware 
 She loved him thus to death. For him the curse 
 To linger on, she safe within the Gates, 
 If curse could be in working perfectly. 
 
' berthold: 45 
 
 She seemed half dead, her gentle head did 
 
 droop 
 Adown his breast, her breath came breathlessly. 
 He laid his lips upon her curved lids 
 And held them so, that his eyes' misery 
 Should be a sealed thing. 
 
 Then sudden smote 
 Her life away. 
 
 Sad shivering to his feet 
 Her head fell, and her hair flew like a shoal 
 Of or and argent fishes from their net, 
 And played along the floor. 
 
 ' My God ! my God ! 
 Forgive thee, Berthold. O ! thy love, thy love 
 Thine awful love that climbeth out of pain, 
 Back to me now it leaps 'mid wreck and death, 
 For ever dimmed, for ever beautiful. 
 Good-night, my love, mine artist and my king ; 
 Great, great no more, but wanting more my 
 
 love. 
 Faint grows thy face, the darkness deepens 
 
 down. 
 Berthold ! where art thou ? touch me, clasp me 
 
 close. 
 
46 'berthold: 
 
 My God ! I faint and fail — so, raise me more . . . 
 Ah ! do not weep, thy tears are agony 
 Piercing my soul that never more can reach 
 To kiss thine eyes and smile thy woes away. 
 Still — tremble not — thou never used'st to fear. 
 Dost crave forgiveness, Berthold, thou of me .-^ 
 And I who cannot give, for loving so, 
 Love cancell'd all thy debt before 'twas owed . . . 
 I love thee, love thee, love thee ! still above 
 I see thy face in anguish, one great star 
 In all this darkness. . . . God can comfort thee, 
 My Berthold. . . . Think of me when in the 
 
 night 
 Alone thou hear'st the organ's voice. I pray 
 My God for us, for thou hast loved me dumb 
 To thee on earth. ... I cannot say farewell. . .' 
 
 Then the last shudder shook her golden hair 
 Soft clinging to his feet, and without moan 
 She died. 
 
 He lifted her again and laid 
 Her drooping, murdered, lovely in the tomb 
 Of the great fabric ; built her slowly up 
 With wood- work and with carving and the pipes 
 
'berthold: 47 
 
 Laid all along, the small ones and the great 
 According to their sizes in their place. 
 
 And then a sound of awful life smote full 
 
 Thro'out the domM cell, and with a cry 
 
 Of anguish that did tear the very stones 
 
 He staggered back and leant with crisping 
 
 hands 
 Against the wall, whilst swelling mournfully 
 The voice he'd stilled for him rose up to God 
 In tones so thrilling and so sorrowful. 
 He knew the work was done, and he 'fore 
 
 Heaven 
 Had earned his will and lost the wish to die. 
 
48 'BERTHOLD. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Men crowded in the nave, along the aisles 
 A wave of human life ebbed to and fro ; 
 A silence full of sound swung solemnly 
 Before the altar as the organ pealed 
 Completed for the town. Te Deums rose 
 With such a beat of magnitude and tone, 
 The very air, filled like a sail too full, 
 Sank lifeless 'gainst a thousand beating hearts 
 Torn thro' with joy. 
 
 Each man touched other hand 
 And clasped remained, old sorrows were 
 
 assuaged, 
 Feuds stilled unfelt, and hard dry eyes o'erflowed 
 With tears of love and penitence and ruth. 
 Then came a miserere, and stiff knees 
 Struck each the other pleading for past sin ; 
 And stern men wept, and women grew more 
 
 strong. 
 Then thro' the notes so powerful and sweet 
 
'BERT hold: 49 
 
 It seemed a voice did ring and pray aloud ; 
 
 In each dark heart it echoed, and yet all 
 
 Heard it the same nor wondered any way, 
 
 But said alike in tender tones and low : 
 
 ' Have mercy on the dead, O Lord ! for they 
 
 Are blest who die in Thee; have mercy, Lord!' 
 
 On high within the tower chamber he 
 
 Lay prone, down fallen like a blasted thing 
 
 Slain by God's wrath from any signs of life 
 
 Save utter suff 'ring and a breaking heart. 
 
 The stains upon his hands grew large and 
 
 bright. 
 Eyes gazing in his heart, the dying eyes 
 Of her he slew — full, full of misery. 
 
 * For nothing any more I crave or pray ; 
 
 I neither hope nor plead. She told me God 
 
 Was infinite in mercy ; not to me, 
 
 Nor e'en to her : yet, Lord of all desire, 
 
 Of all endeavour, of ev'ry cosmic thought, 
 
 I yield Him now. O ! once to hear again 
 
 Her voice say : Love me ... ! Tell her, God, 
 
 from me 
 I yield Thee highest of all ; Thy Name declares 
 E 
 
50 ' BERTHOLD! 
 
 Thee such, thou God of Love. Thou love her, 
 
 God! 
 O God ! be gentle with her ; blind with light 
 Those clear sweet starlike eyes, that never more 
 She see the blackness of my misery, 
 Or else to her e'en Heaven itself were Hell. 
 
 God ! God ! God ! thro' ^ons in Thy praise 
 My work shall ring, yet not thro' mine, but her 
 Most perfect soul. Did she forgive me } no ! 
 She did not say farewell nor I to her. 
 
 1 cry it now in that she cannot hear ; 
 God give it her — a small thing, all I ask — 
 Farewell ! farewell, my Angel on the Heights.' 
 
 Two Shadows in the gloom grew awful. 
 
 Bright 
 One bent and smiled on him, and on his hair 
 Laid gentle hands and kissed his eyelids down, 
 Lest all the joy in hers should pierce the night 
 And he should see the kiss restored to him ; 
 
 The Other stretched to grasp him, vast and dim 
 It spread till all the light was as a fringe, 
 A thread of gold ; but with a wave of sound 
 
' BERT hold: 5: 
 
 The organ tones swdled piercingly, and high 
 Went angel voices : * Domine in Te, 
 In Te speravi, Domine in Te ! ' 
 Down swept the Awful One, a wreath of snow 
 Caught in a summer wind, and fled away 
 As fully to his height he sprang erect ; 
 Unearthly shone his eyes, a godlike flame 
 Lit up the gloomy cell : 
 
 ' O ! once with her, 
 Though now I die, I die ! My God, I cry, 
 Non nobis, nobis — Tibi, Domine ! ' 
 
 Up the small stair they hasten, loudly call 
 ' All hail ! great Berthold, organ-builder ours ; 
 We laud thee to the skies, most noble man. 
 Come down and hearken to the organ sounds 
 Shaking the heavens, most perfect of all work ! ' 
 
 They burst the door, and pour a driving mass 
 Of shouting men. Then pause, and blanch, and 
 fail. 
 
 Low lying at their feet the Builder's form — 
 
52 'berthold: 
 
 Dead, gone to Doom, and clinging round his wrist 
 Twines a gold lock of hair ; and far below, 
 The organ, pealing dimly like a voice, 
 Wails tenderly a requiem ; and they say, 
 ' The glory and the triumph broke his heart, 
 Too great for any mortal all this joy 
 Of perfect work — Non nobis, Domine.' 
 
'BLAZON OF LILIES' 
 
A ' BLAZON OF LILIES: 
 
 Dear eyes, so grave and clear, 
 
 O Soul ! I long to know, 
 Look up, serenely pure, 
 
 And yield me knowledge so. 
 Dear hands, so strong and firm. 
 
 Hold fast, enstrengthen me, 
 ^o gently laid in mine, 
 
 For all Eternity. 
 Dear mouth, so sweet and sad, 
 
 Speak kindly words and brave ; 
 Heed not tho' I should weep — 
 
 Life's truth is very grave. 
 Dear Heart, a little while 
 
 Lean tenderly on me, 
 That God's love presently 
 
 May fall a chrism on thee. 
 
56 A 'BLAZON OF LILIES: 
 
 O Body, Heart, and Soul ! 
 Triune and perfect whole. 
 Deep as thy mystery 
 Is my great love for thee. 
 
A 'BLAZON OF LILIES: 57 
 
 II. 
 
 Life's Secrecy and Death's Revealing — Suggested by N. Paton's 
 picture of the Silver Cord. 
 
 THE SECRET. 
 
 Lie still, my Love, my Life ! 
 Lie very still and pale ; 
 Lift not thine eyes to mine, 
 They will no more prevail 
 To shake the wild sobs out 
 At every mad heart-beat, 
 In thinking thou art freed 
 By Death's compassion sweet, 
 Too late ! 
 For thee and me. 
 
 Lie still, my Love, my Life ! 
 Lie quiet, gentle heart ; 
 Quake, leap no more, like bird 
 Caught suddenly apart 
 
58 A 'BLAZON OF LILIES: 
 
 Soft singing in the rain 
 Because all else are still ; 
 So flowers that droop and sigh 
 May hearken yet and thrill 
 Elate 
 As I to thee. 
 
 Lie still, my Love, my Life ! 
 Close press those grave sweet lips ; 
 They shall no more divide 
 To sigh for me till slips 
 My soul away from thine, 
 'Fore God Almighty's frown 
 In Heaven — a beggar, curst, 
 Yet clinging to thy gown, 
 Forlorn 
 In losing thee. 
 
 Hush ! did I hear but now 
 Thy heart beat ? O my God ! 
 To think I slew thee thus 
 In breathing one small word ; 
 That thou didst love me so. 
 Didst trust so utterly ; 
 
A 'BLAZON OF LILIES: 59 
 
 Thy heart burst into flame, 
 And burnt out suddenly, 
 Undone ! 
 In knowing me. 
 
 Lie still — ah ! mocking words, 
 How stiller lie the dead ? 
 A hand in each of mine, 
 My head against thy head ; 
 Thy body slight and frail 
 Against my living heart. 
 Thou know'st Life's Secret now. 
 And dost not moan or start. 
 All won. 
 And lost for me ! 
 
 THE REVEALING. 
 
 Low tho' I lie and still. 
 Bound by God's mighty will, 
 I hear and am in woe. 
 In that thou grievest so. 
 Lift up thy head and lay 
 Thine ear against my heart ; 
 
6o A 'BLAZON OF LILIES: 
 
 I'll whisper what I know, 
 Now Death hath swept apart 
 The veil 
 'Tween thee and me. 
 
 love ! great love and true, 
 That wound me up and slew, 
 Volition 'gainst thy will. 
 And made me yield and thrill 
 For joy of yielding thee, 
 Love's greatest treasurie. 
 Why didst thou not trust ail ? 
 No tempting and no fall 
 
 Prevail 
 O'er love's decree. 
 
 Had it not better been 
 
 To lay thy lip to mine 
 
 And let me so divine 
 
 What God knew } Oh ! I ween, 
 
 Only right tenderly 
 
 Would I have scourged thee. 
 
 1 know it now — that all ! 
 And cannot to thee call 
 
 But fail 
 To comfort thee. 
 
A 'BLAZON OF LILIES: 
 
 Why pause and wait for death 
 To choke my trembling breath, 
 To take the words from thee 
 And ring them awfully 
 Thro' the great Shadow Land ? 
 I would have touched thy hand 
 Tip-softly, and thy hair 
 Should have lain soft with care 
 Mine eyes 
 To dry for thee. 
 
 God seeth not as we 
 Thro* Life's sore mystery. 
 He sees souls as they are, 
 Yet maybe — from afar, 
 Completed, winged, erect. 
 Glad, purified ; regret 
 Washed out in light and love 
 Down circling from above. 
 Arise ! 
 I wait for thee. 
 
62 A 'BLAZON OF LILIES. 
 
 III. 
 
 LOVE S WORTH. 
 
 Thou hast my soul now 
 Weigh it carefully ; 
 Is it worth enow ? 
 It will only be 
 For eternity. 
 
 Lift up those great eyes, 
 Look wanly at me ; 
 T/iat is the surprise, 
 Doth Life seem dreary ? 
 Rests Eternity. 
 
 That was my life past, 
 Now living for thee 
 (Death cometh up fast), 
 Dieth, as slowly 
 Thy trust dies from me. 
 
A 'BLAZON OF LILIES: 63 
 
 Well — touch me no more ; 
 Go ! it is just — so 
 God went on before 
 Thou earnest up slow. 
 Dost thou grieve ? not so. 
 
64 A 'BLAZON OF LILIES: 
 
 IV. 
 
 NIGHT S SILENCES. 
 
 I LONGED for thee. The stillness of the night 
 Hung round me like a thought untouched and 
 
 pure: 
 No sound but Life impalpable made sure. 
 I heard the stars fall down the western height. 
 
 Then something great and grave there seemed 
 
 to grow, 
 And move from out that mystery, t'wards me. 
 It was not earth, it was not heaven (a tree 
 Shook all its leaves and trembled) ; who should 
 
 know 
 
 What came or past, or stood around, about ? 
 I stood to hearken ; surely It would touch 
 
A 'BLAZON OF LILIES: 65 
 
 My breast with guiding hand and move me 
 
 much ? 
 Yet sound was none, nor any voice. From out 
 
 The woods, from far away, the sad owl's hoot 
 Struck greater silence from the silentness. 
 Till sound broke up in waves of quietness. 
 And down the zenith did the wild stars shoot. 
 
 It was as death, or such as death might be — 
 A stillness, dumbness, waiting pulseless sigh ; 
 Nought possible save knowledge presently 
 Of something rounding out the Night t'wards me, 
 
 Of Life past on yet coming. Then surprise 
 That fills with radiance sweet lost dying eyes. 
 That clasps with voiceless blessing weak or 
 
 wise. 
 Completes all joys and tests all miseries. 
 
 Athwart the solemn splendour of the night 
 This thought grew up in me, and stiller grew 
 All things : this was the stillness ; nigher drew 
 The Piescnce I was 'ware of Never quite, 
 F 
 
66 A 'BLAZON OF LILIES: 
 
 Alas ! it touched me. Stars again did fall 
 Far down the western height, and mournfully 
 The owls called softly with their plaintive cry,- 
 And night still held her mystery like a pall. 
 
A 'BLAZON OF LILIES: 67 
 
 THE TRUSTING SOUL. 
 
 When I am near thee 
 All the world seems bright, 
 All things most beauteous 
 Steeped in thy pure light, 
 All good deeds easy, 
 All vile deeds most base, 
 My soul most holy 
 Clothed on with thy grace. 
 
 All doubts do vanish. 
 Like sad ghosts and pale, 
 When thou dost touch me ; 
 And behind the veil 
 Of sense and nature 
 Great love doth prevail 
 
68 A 'BLAZON OF LILIES. 
 
 To win me Godwards, 
 Whence I erst did quail. 
 
 O noble spirit ! 
 
 True and pure and brave, 
 
 Fold thou thy pinions 
 
 Round my soul, and save 
 
 Me at my sorest ; 
 
 Say : * God wills and I ! 
 
 Forsake us not then 
 
 Thro' extremity.' 
 
 Send forth thy clear voice 
 Like a clarion call : 
 * God is omnipotent ! 
 And O ! above all, 
 Thy weakest strongest ; 
 He shall not fail thee 
 Tho' thou hardly pray, 
 Poor soul, in jeopardy. 
 
 ' I have prayed ever 
 And I still must pray, 
 And bind thy soul thus 
 Till thou likewise pray. 
 
A 'BLAZON OF LILIES: 69 
 
 God hears two voices, 
 Anywhere on earth, 
 And He will answer 
 To our utmost dearth.' 
 
70 A 'BLAZON OF LILIES. 
 
 VI. 
 
 A QUEST. 
 
 At midnight, when the house is still, 
 And sleep has fallen on weary eyes, 
 With gentle touch of Death's surprise, 
 My Spirit wanders where it will. 
 
 I lift the latch and don my shoon, 
 I take the Night Shades by the hand, 
 I wander thro' the silent land, 
 And whisper to the leaning Moon. 
 
 My Spirit takes a wider range. 
 And flits afar (where thoughts alone 
 Can go by day), held back by none. 
 To watch and love thy every change. 
 
A 'BLAZON OF LILIES: 71 
 
 I stand below thy casement wide, 
 And gaze within and smile on thee ; 
 Thou lift'st thy head with thoughts of me 
 In thy dear eyes. Ah ! none beside 
 
 Have seen that look, so full and deep, — 
 'Tis all mine own ! I stir the air 
 In passing inwards near thy chair ; 
 Thou smilest : ' Birds that dream in sleep.' 
 
 Upon the amber's powdered gold 
 That shades thy brow, I gently press 
 My lips in mute love's gentleness ; 
 Thou smil'st : * A night moth, over bold ! ' 
 
 I kneel beside thee till a prayer 
 For me thou whisp'rest, faintly held 
 By my great love all unbeheld ; 
 I clasp thy small feet, white and bare. 
 
 I lay my head in peace, and rest 
 'Gainst thy dear shoulder shrouded white 
 In robe of snow, till soft and light 
 Thou lay'st thy hands upon my breast. 
 
72 A 'BLAZON OF LILIES: 
 
 And then my touch hath worked a charm 
 Thy head falls, and thou thinkest moie 
 Of me than all the day before ; 
 Until at length in vague alarm 
 
 Of all the power and tenderness 
 Of this thy love for me, thy heart 
 Doth soothe itself with curious art 
 In thinking on thy loneliness. 
 
 Yet am I there, my Love, my Life ! 
 I know, I see, I feel thy love, 
 Which almost me to tears doth move, 
 In gazing on thy spirit's strife. 
 
 Fear not, dear heart, to think of me ; 
 My Spirit must perforce be mute, 
 Nor ever thy sweet trust refute. 
 In seeming loneliness to be. 
 
 I watch thee lay thyself to rest, 
 I stand with outstretched hands, and pray 
 That God will guard thy soul alway. 
 Then wander homewards from my quest. 
 
A ' BLAZON OF LILIES. 73 
 
 I lift the latch and doff my shoon, 
 I wave the Shades a grateful sign ; 
 My heart is full of peace divine, 
 And God alone is watching soon. 
 
74 A ' BLAZON OF LILIES: 
 
 VII. 
 
 AN AFTERMATH. 
 
 How canst thou lift my wasted life, 
 To bind with thine in grace and strength ; 
 How canst thou answer, clear and brave. 
 For my dull heart 'mid toiling length 
 
 Of bitter days to come ? Ah ! no ; 
 
 Pass by, nor think where others failed 
 
 And dropped crushed hopes like poisoned 
 
 flowers, 
 Thy soul, tho' strong, can have prevailed 
 
 To breathe new sweetness thro' the air. 
 And swell the buds and straighten stems, 
 And vein the tendrils drooping faint, 
 And cloud them like to precious gems. 
 
A 'BLAZON OF LILIES: 75 
 
 Pass by, nor gaze with wistful eyes 
 Upon my life low in the dust ; 
 Soiled, wasted, shrivelled, hollow, grey : 
 They all have passed — thou likewise must ; 
 
 Take not my hand, 'tis deadly cold ; 
 Kiss not my cheek, 'tis worn and thin ; 
 Lift not my hair, my brow is damp ; 
 Touch not my lips, they quiver in. 
 
 Speak not in tones whose tender grace 
 Doth shake my spirit like God's word ; 
 And oh, thy looks like arrows pierce. 
 And draw my life with straining cord. 
 
 Ah ! let me be, I am content 
 To live alone my wasted life ; 
 Thou wilt regret it presently, 
 Like others ; and my soul is rife 
 
 With trust betrayed and broken vows. 
 With longings crushed and overthrown : 
 I would not prove a curse to thee, — 
 Pass by ! my heart is overgrown ; 
 
76 A 'BLAZON OF LILIES: 
 
 And yet — * Ah, no, I will not pass/ 
 I hear thee say, ' albeit last, 
 Let me but love thee, live for me ! 
 God hath forgiven all the past. 
 
 * Lift up thy life, I will lift too 
 The burden of thy wasted days. 
 And bind it strongly with my love. 
 And light thee thro' thy darkened ways. 
 
 * I will not urge, nor frown, nor sigh, 
 I will not touch thy hand or cheek, . 
 I will but love thee silently 
 
 With all my soul ; nor shalt thou speak, 
 
 * But lean thy head against my heart, 
 And sob thyself to rest and peace ; 
 
 I will not fail thee, only trust, — 
 Thy weary soul shall be at ease/ 
 
 Thou pausedst — glory seemed to come, 
 Like dawn on mountain heights of snow, 
 Upon thy brow, so radiantly 
 Thine eyes are shining on me now. 
 
A 'BLAZON OF LILIES: 77 
 
 I yield, I come — with heart and soul 
 
 I come to thee, with gathered years 
 
 Of broken trust and fretted life, 
 
 Drenched thro' and thro' with woe and tears. 
 
 I cling and kneel low at thy feet, 
 That when God's angels come for thee. 
 They may perchance for very rue 
 Not part us in Eternity. 
 
78 A 'BLAZON OF LILIES: 
 
 Will. 
 
 THOU SHALT BE SATISFIED. 
 
 O SOUL ! dim fighting with the Shadowy Host, 
 Hold on, be brave, nor count thyself for lost, 
 Albeit they bear thee backwards faint and 
 
 crushed 
 When most thou strugglest. Thro' the war din 
 
 hushed 
 A trumpet peals : * So thou but dole abide, 
 Thou shalt be satisfied.' 
 
 O soul ! faint wrestling with a torturing care, 
 Wringing thy hands in agonized prayer, 
 Sending a silent cry thro' darkness up to God 
 Who answers not, yet hath He understood, 
 An answer waits for thee washed in death's tide : 
 * Thou shalt be satisfied.' 
 
A 'BLAZON OF LILIES: 79 
 
 O soul ! that hung'rest, wanting ever food 
 For all thy longings, seeking perfect good, 
 And perfect faith and perfectly to know 
 Why those thou lovest may not perfect grow 
 Nor suffer anymore, nor be so tried : 
 * Thou shalt be satisfied.' 
 
 Go toiling onwards, God hath gone before ; 
 Seek, weary Heaven with prayers, and more and 
 
 more 
 Wring anguish from thy heart's blood ; dread 
 
 and strong 
 Grasp fiercely at the spectres woe and wrong ; 
 Call till thy voice chokes, breaking — tho' denied : 
 * Thou shalt be satisfied.' 
 
 Think in thy stilly moments lone and pure 
 On some great action, striving to endure 
 And work thy life as high with aim complete. 
 What tho' thou fail, yea e'en to reach its feet. 
 Thou hast free- chosen thee a lofty guide : 
 * Thou shalt be satisfied.* 
 
8o A 'BLAZON OF LILIES: 
 
 Hark not to subtle hint and dusky word : 
 
 * All is in vain, thy prayers are never heard. 
 What is beyond ? how know'st thou certainly ? 
 The tomb is silent and will ever be.' 
 
 Think on the words of One who never lied : 
 ' Thou shalt be satisfied.' 
 
 What tho' each year brings sorrow dark and 
 
 still, 
 What tho' each soul thou lovest turns to ill, 
 What tho' each wish, each longing ever more 
 Dies frorn thee, and thy heart dies at the core ; — 
 When all is lost, and life is bare and wide, 
 Thou shalt be satisfied.' 
 
 Thou shalt be hunted — and nowhere to hide ; 
 Thou shalt be weary — and nowhere to bide ; 
 Thou shalt be wretched — like the Crucified 
 Wrung thro' with torture ; yet for thee He died : 
 Hold on thy way ! He speaks thro' death to 
 thee: 
 
 * Thou shalt be satisfied at last, with Me ' 
 
A 'BLAZON OF LILIES: 8i 
 
 IX. 
 
 A SUNSET THOUGHT. 
 
 I LEANT against the dusky firs 
 Upon the boundary of the wood ; 
 The sun went down behind the hill 
 And left in darkness where I stood. 
 — Ah ! there is light for now and aye 
 r the Country very far away. 
 
 All thro' the west the glow did spread, 
 The shadows lifted from the grass 
 Their trembling feet, and overhead 
 The timid birds did quickly pass. 
 
 — Ah ! there is light for now and aye 
 r the Country very far away. 
 G 
 
: A ' BLAZON OF LILIES: 
 
 A line of cloud, a sceptre thrown 
 By angel summoned suddenly 
 To guard a soul, lay straight, a bar 
 Athwart the blazon of the sky. 
 
 — Ah ! there is neither night nor day 
 r the Country very far away. 
 
 Mine eyes did fill, my soul along 
 That bar did move with yearning care ; 
 Had but a break come in the round 
 My spirit might have entered there. 
 — Ah ! there are peace and rest alway 
 r the Country very far away. 
 
 It seemed as tho' the sound of song 
 Pierced all the light that lined the west, 
 And tears and yearning filled the gloom 
 That wrapped around my shadowed breast. 
 — Ah ! sighs and sorrow flee alway 
 r the Country very far away. 
 
 The darkness deepened where I stood, 
 A bird sat ciying for its mate, 
 
A 'BLAZON OF LILIES: 83 
 
 And o'er the moorlands' well-worn track 
 The shadows swept disconsolate. 
 
 — Ah ! nought but gladness shall hold sway 
 r the Country very far away. 
 
 I turned and gazed between the trees, 
 Like pillars in a church they rose, 
 A hymn of harmony and grace 
 In their grave splendour and repose. 
 — Ah ! there we shall together pray, 
 r the Country very far away. 
 
 The odours of the resinous wood 
 Steeped all my spirit like a dream. 
 The thought of thee stood like a star 
 And held my heart with radiant beam. 
 — Ah ! soft shall shine that light alway 
 r the Country very far away. 
 
 And if I pass before thou dost, 
 Upon yon bar of evening light 
 Thine essence shall envelope me 
 And all my soul in beauty dight. 
 
 — Ah ! thou shalt think by night and day: 
 They're in the Country far away. 
 G 2 
 
$4 A 'BLAZON OF LILIES: 
 
 And if God's voice should summon thee 
 And leave me in the Shadow-Land, 
 I'll stand at even silently 
 And feel thro' darkness for thy hand. 
 — For ah ! thou'lt love me now and aye, 
 Though in the Country far away. 
 
A 'BLAZON OF LILIES: 85 
 
 X. 
 
 A LOVE PROGRESS. 
 
 Oh ! well I saw, when Thou didst pass, 
 The ruffled daisies leap and waft 
 Their silver caps ; the king-cups laughed, 
 
 A thrill of joy ran thro' the grass. 
 
 The great wood hollies in the sun 
 
 Made haste to spread a pointed fringe : 
 The tiny sorrel thro* the hinge 
 
 Peeped in and twinkled : love hath won ! 
 
 Fir needles ran in spiny haste 
 
 To pave a road ; the cones did fill 
 With odour keen and earnest will 
 
 The lonely track across the waste. 
 
86 A 'BLAZON OF LILIES: 
 
 The small moor-hens and lonely coots 
 Came up, flotillas deftly manned, • 
 And lined with joy the shelving strand, 
 
 And anchored off the alder roots. 
 
 The sceptred iris stood to arms ; 
 The golden flag in panoply 
 Of breast-plate grooved in filagree, 
 
 Stood guardingly 'gainst all alarms. 
 
 The fisher, in his azure coat 
 
 And bronzed head, made haste to dart 
 A herald — having gained the start — 
 
 To order out the lily's boat. 
 
 The ivy ran from tree to tree ; 
 
 The briars and brambles leapt and tore 
 Each other's rags, but laughed the more 
 
 Such tattered finery to see. 
 
 The roses blushed, in such hot haste 
 
 They climbed the sapling's sturdy stem, 
 That bent to help and steady them 
 
 With ready arms. Wild strawberries raced. 
 
A 'BLAZON OF LILIES: 8/ 
 
 The woodruffs starched their pointed frills, 
 And pranked each blossom like a star ; 
 The periwinkles trooped from far ; 
 
 In companies came daffodils. 
 
 The spiders spun a canopy : 
 
 Black mail the beetles did adorn : 
 The tiny gnats wound each a horn : 
 
 In burnished surcoat came the fly. 
 
 The ants came running in a train, 
 
 With snails, and slow-worms, and tadpoles: 
 The moth's fur tippets round the boles 
 
 Of oaks spun in and out again. 
 
 The owls sailed slowly down the glades, 
 Dim blinking and enquiringly : 
 The hawks came wheeling spirally : 
 
 And butterflies of gemlike shades 
 
 Made rainbows in the sunny gleam : 
 And dragonflies, all glittering. 
 Shot spears of light in fairy ring. 
 
 And held a tournay o'er the stream. 
 
88 A 'BLAZON OF LILIES: 
 
 The pigeons flew, a dappled cloud : 
 
 Woodpeckers tapped a hollow way : 
 With shrieks of joy the dainty jay 
 
 Flew out like light ; and sweet and loud 
 
 Came trill of linnet, throstle, merle, 
 And nightingales a fluted choir, 
 That broke thro' all the rest, a fire 
 
 Of darting sound. Then quick unfurl 
 
 The squirrels' plumy tails for speed. 
 
 The shrew mice, rabbits, dusky moles. 
 Come gliding, leaping, from their holes 
 
 In bank and brake ; and none take heed 
 
 Of death or danger, one and all. 
 
 They crowd and jostle, laugh and cheer ; 
 
 The wind-flowers trumpet : Oyez ! hear ! 
 She comes ! she comes ! the Queen of all ! 
 
 And last Thou comest, white and sweet 
 As jasmine buds on Easter Eve, 
 Or eucharis, and dost achieve 
 
 Dominion o'er them all complete. 
 
A 'BLAZON OF LILIES: 89 
 
 They gem Thy hair of purest gold ; 
 
 They weave a garland round Thy waist. 
 
 They cling within Thy palm, and haste 
 To hide them in Thy garment's fold. 
 
 They nestle just beneath Thy chin ; 
 
 They peep behind Thy pearly ear ; 
 
 They overlook Thy brow, and near 
 They creep to press Thy lip and win 
 
 A dewy kiss, or smile, or sigh. 
 
 Then die o'erblest with sight so fair : 
 For what on earth can thee compare, 
 
 Clothed in Thy maiden witchery.^ 
 
90 A 'BLAZON OF LILIES: 
 
 XL 
 
 UNANSWERED. 
 
 So changed ! it did not seem to me 
 The world could ever darken thus ; 
 I sit and think, and mournfully 
 Recall each word that fell from us. 
 
 And one by one thy tones and touch 
 Come back with force supreme and grave 
 Tho' then they did not move me much, 
 Yet now in tears my life they lave. 
 
 These all I have — a ring, a rose, 
 A few old letters worn and pale ; 
 With simple opening, tender close : 
 Yet how in death they do prevail. 
 
A 'BLAZON OF LILIES: 91 
 
 What makes me sit to-night and dream 
 On all thy wasted love and care 
 For this my life, till it doth seem 
 Thy presence fills the hueless air ? 
 
 Thou hadst such faith ; so simply true 
 Thou wast, so full of life and strength : 
 Sometimes my heart nigh breaks for rue, 
 In these slow days' unbroken length. 
 
 Why is it ? canst enlighten me 
 In that great knowledge thou hast won, 
 That all my light seems gone with thee, 
 And all my pride of living done ? 
 
 Why is it that we never know 
 The depth and grace of fealty, 
 Till it is murdered blow by blow, 
 And lost to us eternally ? 
 
 Oh ! what hast left me, sorrow tost. 
 Thou who didst ever gently speak 
 And strive to please me ? lone and lost 
 I look for thee, and vainly seek. 
 
A 'BLAZON OF LILIES: 
 
 I lift the rose, I press the ring, 
 I read thy letters one by one ; 
 Regret cannot change anything, 
 Till all the days' slow length be run. 
 
 But yet I sit and weep to-night — 
 The grass is springing on thy grave, 
 And still I cannot fathom quite 
 Why Thou to me such fealty gave. 
 
A 'BLAZON OF LILIES: 93 
 
 XII. 
 
 A MESSAGE. 
 
 Wait ! I am coming, I am coming ! 
 Thro' the ice, and the snow, and the rain, 
 I am coming, oh ! I am coming, 
 Now the daylight and sunlight do wane. 
 
 In the darkness when the shadows fall. 
 And the wind goes shrilling over all, 
 And the great trees in the wilderness 
 Are down bending in stark loneliness ; 
 
 When the ivy on the tower wall 
 Rustles fiercely at the owlets' call ; 
 When the bat is wheeling with a cheep 
 Like a wailing ghost-cry heard in sleep ; 
 
94 A 'BLAZON OF LILIES: 
 
 When the sun sinks o'er the frozen mere 
 Cut, pierced by brown reeds, far and near 
 The curlews' and the plovers' whistling 
 Strikes quiv'ring thro' the alders bristling ; 
 
 When your eyes are blind with weeping sore ; 
 When your heart is dying at the core ; 
 When your hands can fold them nevermore, — 
 Then — ! I shall be standing at your door. 
 
 You shall not hear me tho' I come amain ; 
 You shall not lift your head for joy or pain ; 
 You shall not ope the door nor sob, * Too late ! ' 
 For I must come, and you shall be elate. 
 
 Men call me many names, the Lord but one ; 
 I'll whisper it to you when quite alone, 
 ril draw you to the quiet of my breast. 
 And, heart to heart, your soul shall learn the 
 rest. 
 
 Then let the ice wind, and the snow, and hail 
 Drive, drift, and rave, I shall o'er them prevail ; 
 
A 'BLAZON OF LILIES: 95 
 
 Then let the owlet cry, the mouse-bird cheep, — 
 I come with them, as dreams do come with 
 sleep. 
 
 What tho' the winds go shrilling over all, 
 
 The great trees bend and sway, the shadows 
 
 fall; 
 What tho' the wild birds pipe and shrilly cry ; 
 Thro' one and all I am but drawing nigh. 
 
 Hold up your hands, in prayer they shall touch 
 
 mine ; 
 Look up, dim eyes ! ah, aching heart, recline 
 Upon my heart. I'm coming ! at the door ! 
 And nought in Heaven or Earth shall part us 
 
 more. 
 
96 A 'BLAZON OF LILIES: 
 
 XIII. 
 
 MISERRIMUS. 
 
 A tombstone, with this sole insaiption, dateless, lies in the 
 Cloisters of Worcester Cathedral. 
 
 Down, down in the quiet grave ; 
 Down in the shadows dark and deep ; 
 Cold and still as a frozen wave, 
 Where none will bid me laugh or weep ; 
 Caught in the whirl from out of life ; 
 Forced to lie still, nor move, nor moan,— 
 What to me more man's peace or strife ? 
 Rest and silence and all alone. 
 
 Out of the bustle, and toil, and heat ; 
 Out of the strain and pitiful strife ; 
 
A 'BLAZON OF LlLlES: 
 
 Out of the jarring and discord — beat, 
 And faint, and weary — finished with life ; 
 Bruised and broken, damp on the brow, 
 Foam on the lip, and dust on the hair ; 
 Ready and longing for quietude now, 
 Tho' life seemed erst so full and so fair. 
 
 Eyes that are blind, and ears that are dull. 
 Feet that need weary the stones no more. 
 Hands that of burdens were over full, 
 Folded to rest — and like a closed door, 
 The life that's to come has shut out the past- 
 No one to live for, and no one to save ; 
 No one to pray for — all gone at last ; 
 Sudden and solemn the rest of the grave. 
 
 A stillness profound — no word and no call; 
 Stillness so still my heart need not throb, 
 Tired and ashamed of the failure and all ; 
 Too tired to care, and too tired to sob. 
 God hath said : Rest ! and I willingly stay 
 In quiet, and think of nothing and none. 
 What unto me more is man's yea or nay } 
 I rest in the silence, and am — alone. 
 H 
 
98 A 'BLAZON OF LILIES: 
 
 XIV. 
 
 OUT OF THE SILENT LAND. 
 
 Hast come for me, Darling, 
 
 Out of the Silent Land ? 
 O ! I was weary to-night, 
 Too tired even to weep, 
 Too tired even to sleep. 
 Not too tired — quite, 
 
 To fail in clasping thy hand. 
 
 Hast come at last. Darling, 
 
 Out of the Silent Land ? 
 Oh ! Love, thou mayest come close ; 
 Why should I fear thee, when death 
 Can only sigh with thy breath, 
 Can only bring me repose t 
 
 The rest I shall understand. 
 
A 'BLAZON OF LILIES: .^9 
 
 Hast thought of me, Darhng, 
 
 Out in the Silent Land ? 
 Hast thought of my lonely life, 
 Hast thought of my vow to thee ? 
 Oh ! I have kept fealty, 
 Thro' sin, and sorrow, and strife. 
 
 Thou needest not doubting stand. 
 
 Hast longed for me, Darling, 
 
 Out in the Silent Land } 
 As I have longed for thee, 
 Till men were shadows, and time 
 Stilly stood (as prisoned in rime 
 The raindrops freeze on a tree), 
 
 Till ended by God's command. 
 
 Hast trusted me, Darling, 
 
 Alone in the Silent Land .^ 
 Hast never doubted my love ? 
 Hast known of my weariness, 
 Hast wept for my dreariness, 
 Art come but my truth to prove ? 
 See ! I can fearlessly stand. 
 
loo A 'BLAZON OF LILIES: 
 
 Look straight in mine eyes with light 
 
 Of thine from the Silent Land, 
 Tho' mine are breaking for rest, 
 Thy look shall pierce the death veil,. 
 Thy touch shall forthwith prevail 
 To guide me straight to thy breast. 
 And peacefully hand in hand 
 We will pass to the Silent Land. 
 
A 'BLAZON OF LILIES: loi 
 
 XV. 
 
 AT LAST. 
 
 I STOOD alone, the merry world jigged by 
 And stumbled on my gravestones in their haste, 
 With shout and jest and many a flaunt and jibe, 
 Until the whole of life seemed wrack and waste. 
 Last earnest Thou. . . . The evening shadows 
 
 smote 
 Athwart thy footsteps like a tolling bell 
 Of coming ! coming ! found — but just in time 
 As each firm footfall on the silence fell. 
 Ah ! then the truth struck from thee on my 
 
 breast : 
 O ! after all these years of deep unrest, 
 Found ! found ! and my dim trust was not in 
 
 vain. 
 For God was list'ning thro' the worst of pain. 
 
I02 A ' BLAZON OF LILIES: 
 
 Just on the threshold of my Hfe Thou stand'st, 
 And sayest gravely in pure tones and low 
 My name, which breaks the drifted ice of years: 
 * God sent me Love ! arise His love to know.' 
 And I am dumb for joy at such a close, 
 And stand enfolded by this certitude 
 Of : found — completed, perfected at last ; 
 And God's Truth filters slow thro' all my mood. 
 
LOHENGRIN 
 
ARGUMENT. 
 
 Elsa, Duchess of Brabant, is accused, before the Emperor 
 of Germany and her assembled vassals, of having murdered her 
 young brother the heir (he having mysteriously disappeared) 
 by her cousins Ortrude and Telramund, who claim the throne. 
 The Emperor, in open conclave on a broad plain by the sea, 
 calls on Elsa to defend herself. She appears bewildered, 
 answering only by repeating vaguely a dream. Ortrude suggests 
 a trial by combat, believing that by her magic arts she can 
 enable Telramund to overcome any champion Elsa may name. 
 On a summons being thrice sounded, a knight appears in a 
 silver boat drawn by a swan, and bearing that bird as his cog- 
 nizance. He refuses to reveal his name, alleging that he is 
 under a vow of silence for a year and a day. He is accepted 
 by Elsa as her champion, fights and overcomes Telramund, and 
 is then betrothed before the Emperor to Elsa ; Ortrude and 
 Telramund being outlawed. 
 
 On the night before Elsa's wedding, Ortrude and Telra- 
 mund sit on her palace steps concerting schemes of vengeance. 
 Ortrude, in a burst of rage, bids Telramund begone, and leave 
 her to work out their reinstatement. He goes. Elsa comes on 
 to the balcony, and Ortrude prevails on her, in pity, to take 
 her in, and then instils in the maiden's mind by her magic art 
 the deepest suspicion as to the origin of the knight. The 
 further trial, sorrow, and redeeming of Elsa and the Swan- 
 Knight, the poem will unfold. 
 
LOHENGRIN: 105 
 
 LOHENGRIN. ' 
 
 I. 
 
 THE COMING. 
 
 Then said the Kaiser solemnly and slow : 
 ' Speak, Elsa, in our hearing. Let us prove 
 Thee wronged ! for O ! what better chance can 
 
 e'er 
 Befall thee than that we, thy Liege, remove 
 This foul thing from thee .'' Thou shalt have full 
 
 time 
 To plead 'fore us ; and all thy vassals stand 
 To shout acclaim.' 
 
 * Not one will strike a blow 
 For that poor wretch. Hush ! hold thy trembling 
 
 hand, 
 Thou puppet ! bide my time, or I will nail 
 Thy fingers to thy tunic like huge pins, 
 And pierce thy very vitals shivering white. 
 
io6 'LOHENGRIN: 
 
 Do webut challenge boldly! Malice wins !' 
 Thus Ortrude to the craven she called lord. 
 But Elsa stood as dreaming ; musingly 
 She wove her little fingers in and out 
 Of her white girdle foaming like a wave 
 In seedling pearl about her slender waist. 
 She seemed to hearken somewhat far away ; 
 Her pensive head hung sideways, and her eyes 
 Were brim with dreams. They whispered : 
 
 * She doth pray.' 
 Yet hardly that might be, for faint and fleet 
 A smile kept coming, going, rare and dim 
 As light that gleams in chapel — o'er a shrine — 
 They raise and lower at the evening hymn. 
 Then 'mid the breathless silence, low she said : 
 
 * I saw — it was a vision — yet he lives ! ' 
 
 Her voice's sweetness thrilled the latter word — 
 
 * He lives to conquer wrong, to fight — he grieves 
 O'er wrong.' Then like a beat of wind her 
 
 tones 
 Died down, and dreamily she sank her head. 
 And sighed for very fullness of content 
 And faith : ' He lives for me ! and I shall wed 
 With him.' 
 
'LOHENGRIN: 107 
 
 * She is distraught ! she mocks ! she dreams ! ' 
 They murmur round her angry and confused. 
 The common soldiers clanged their swords and 
 
 shields ; 
 Her vassals stood impatient whilst she mused. 
 ' Elsa ! ' began the Kaiser, stern yet kind ; 
 ' This is no time to dream. Choose thee a 
 
 knight, 
 And bid hjm win the guerdon of thy hand 
 As one most noble, worthy in the fight' 
 She gently lift her head and looked around. 
 Each one pushed forth his fellow in affright, 
 Or drew his visor downwards, turning pale. 
 Not one believed her innocent. The spite 
 Of Ortrude waxed, emboldened : ' O ! my Liege, 
 Why waste thy kindness on that worthless 
 
 thing } 
 Bid forth thy heralds, blow a summons loud 
 Till all the marshes round with clarions ring.^ 
 * So be it,' quoth the Kaiser ; * for we see 
 No other ending to this piteous tale. 
 O Elsa ! who wilt summons } speak his name 
 That doubly so the summons may avail.' 
 ' 'Tis only he — there lives no other knight ; 
 
io8 'LOHENGRIN: 
 
 I saw — it was a vision ; yet he came 
 In a swan's boat, clothed on with living light 
 That shines before God's Throne. He had no 
 name.' 
 
 * Then blow a summons now right lustily ; 
 Blow to the choirs of Heaven, and rout the skies ! 
 For this must be a case of glamourie. 
 
 And we must save her soul in any wise.' 
 They blow, they blow to all the corners four ; 
 They crack the welkin with stentorian calls, 
 And far afield the echo mocks and rings 
 As dully on each heart that music falls. 
 But no one comes, nor any answer forth 
 That crowded space. And yet again they blow; 
 And men 'gin shudd'ring, drawing further back, 
 As surging waves in springtide ebb and flow. 
 
 * O Elsa ! ' said her Liege, ' I would that I 
 Might clear thy name from ill, thy soul from sin. 
 Alas ! poor child, I fear 'tis only so 
 
 That thou wilt anymore thy kingdom win.' 
 ' Yet blow again,' she said, ' and yet once more, 
 And I will kneel and pray. O ! could I dream ! 
 I do not hold him when they speak around ; 
 I only feel things are not as they seem. 
 
'LOHENGRIN: 109 
 
 I know he's coming, coming like the light. 
 He's here, close to me ; can I but prevail 
 To trust him utterly. Ah ! God in Heaven, 
 So cleanse my heart that all my trust avail.' 
 She bent her loveliness, and knelt 'fore all, 
 A maiden gentle, pure as falling snow. 
 They stand around, and doubt and mock at her. 
 Meanwhile the heralds turn and loudly blow — 
 And after that last summons a dread pause ; 
 The klirring of drawn swords the only sound. 
 Men sign the cross, and women weep and hiss ; 
 And Elsa kneels on in a prayer profound. 
 The Kaiser raised his hand, rose to his feet. . . . 
 When coming, coming, coming from the sea 
 A Cry from out the distance swelled and grew ; 
 It came, it waxed, it thrilled in melody, 
 A reedy, throbbing, pulsing on the air. 
 It came, it came a solemn glorious sound ; 
 It grew, it grew, it waxed, it thrilled, it rang 
 Till all those wond'ring hearts beat in one bound. 
 Straight went the Call, a piercing symphony 
 So sweet thro' soul and spirit clear it drove, 
 That life hung balanced on the ecstasy 
 And fainted as the silence down it clove. 
 
no 'LOHENGRIN.' 
 
 And over all, and ever over all 
 
 Uprose the columns of the thrilling note 
 
 That shred the Living from the Dead, and shook 
 
 Vast wings of rushing sound that thund'ring 
 
 smote. 
 * My Love ! my Love ! I knew that thou would'st 
 
 come,* 
 She murmured kneeling, lost in reverie ; 
 ' And when I turn my head, the gentle swan 
 Shall land thee at my feet, and grammerie 
 Shall die before thy light' 
 
 * The swan ! the swan ! ' 
 The shouting people cry, and run and race : 
 ' The swan ! he comes ! the swan ! the boat ! 
 
 oh, hail ! 
 Oh ! welcome, Champion of the light'ning-face ! ' 
 Then up the river-reaches from the sea 
 A little silvern boat drew to the land. 
 It shone in molten light from stem to stern, 
 That welled around it as a whirling brand. 
 And one stood in it clad in liquid pearl ; 
 His crest an opal ; beryls on his shield; 
 Upon his surcoat blazoned was a swan 
 In tint of argent on an em'rald field. 
 
' LOHENGRIN: 1 1 1 
 
 The breathless people crowd in misty mass 
 Upon the shore and line the level banks, 
 Then shout a ringing shout of: ' Hail ! all hail ! ' 
 And as he lands, fall back into their ranks. 
 With lofty mien, yet gentle courtesy. 
 He turned to bid the guiding swan farewell. 
 * Thanks unto thee, true friend,' he faintly said ; 
 ' Go to my Home and say that all is well ; 
 Go to my Home, and bid them watch for me 
 What time the Evening Star her silvern feet 
 Lifts on my mountains. Blow the reveille 
 When dawn is purpling on my vineyards sweet ; 
 The distant echoes shall arouse my strength 
 To quench all evil fighting for my King; 
 To bow my will 'fore His, and every way 
 Think as He thinks in all and everything.' 
 One sad melodic note the parting swan 
 Wailed out, then sped an arrowflight away ; 
 And wistful heark'ning to its throbbing wings 
 The knight trod on, nor durst they any stay 
 His forward pace. He threw aside his cloak 
 White as the dawn ; well armed was he with 
 sword. 
 
112 'LOHENGRIN: 
 
 And breastplate grooved as raying of the sun ; 
 So straight he stood and tall like to a god. 
 ' I answer to my summons fearlessly ; 
 Call forth the dastard who hath dared malign 
 The Lady of Brabant ! ' 
 
 Tlie heralds ringed 
 The ground in tourney-wise. The soldiers line 
 The thronging vassals rushing from the rear. 
 The Kaiser stood anigh, and wondering 
 Clung Elsa to her dream. Ortrude wove spells. 
 They meet. The leaping falchions bite and spring 
 And writhe in liquid murder. Calm as death, 
 With awful look of one who hears God call, 
 The Swan- Knight strikes, recovers, strikes again, 
 Till crashing downwards the accuser falls 
 And lies for dead. 
 
 The victor sendeth home 
 The thirsty weapon to the tingling sheath ; 
 And kneeling to the maiden whisp'reth low: 
 * Elsa ! God wove for us the bridal wreath 
 In rounding victory. Oh ! wilt thou pledge 
 Thy faith to one who dares not tell thee yet 
 Who he may be .-* yet swears upon the Rood 
 Thou shalt know all in time, nor aught regret } ' 
 
'LOHENGRIN: 113 
 
 * Yea, I will trust,' she answered quick and soft, 
 And paled and wavered like an opening rose 
 The wind lulls rocking in the early bloom 
 Of all her love and faith's most perfect close. 
 ' Now Christ thee keep and help thy fealty, 
 For as thou trustest so thou shalt win me, 
 And as thou lovest shall thine ending be 
 When thou and I shall wed eternally.' 
 He led her to her Liege, and all men hailed 
 That noble Troth and shouted * Victory ! ' 
 They stood twin-link'd with claspt hands over- 
 laid, 
 And no man durst enquire of his degree. 
 But Ortrude, twisting like a mangled snake, 
 Leant sideways as she passed, now shunned of 
 
 all, 
 And hissed this query in the maiden's ear : 
 ' I know him by my art. It may befall 
 Thou'lt know him erst too late. Why not 
 
 demand 
 His title as he stands } The devil can 
 Perform most worthy deeds in holy guise 
 And personate a very noble man ! * 
 I 
 
114 'LOHENGRIN: 
 
 Then shrank, as turning on her suddenly 
 
 The Swan-Knight sternly bade her cease and go, 
 
 Nor dare to breathe within a league of her 
 
 On whom she nigh had wreaked so great a woe. 
 
 But Elsa heard and, for the instant, dread 
 
 Leapt up and showed a shrouded horror wan. 
 
 What if this were a glamour, and she wed 
 
 With Demon t Yet one searching furtive scan 
 
 Drew all the light of holiness to her — 
 
 Her heart lay still, and only utterly 
 
 She loved the knight and felt but safe anigh 
 
 His shining form, and trusted perfectly. 
 
LOHENGRIN: 1 1 c 
 
 II. 
 
 THE CURSE. 
 
 Now in the loneness of the dusky night 
 Ortrude, and he the craven, Telramund, 
 Sat crouched and watching near the palace door. 
 And first he pulled the bandage from his wound, 
 And then he muttered hoarsely, mad with pain ; 
 Anon he tore his garments with the fret. 
 Then cursed the Swan-Knight, Elsa, last Ortrude, 
 Who never moved from watching at his threat ; 
 With that he sprang erect, and shrieked out, 
 
 *Vile! 
 O vilest of thy sex ! hard, cold as stone. 
 No woman was thy mother, but some beast 
 Without e'en pity for herself alone 
 In breeding thee ! but I will prove more man 
 Than she a woman, and I'll end thy days, 
 Thou treachery incarnate ! ' 
 
ii6 'LOHENGRIN: 
 
 Harsh her voice 
 Rang out above his own : ' Hush ! lest I raise, 
 
 scum profane ! a devil's dancing crew 
 
 To twitch thy wound and batten on thy spleen. 
 Dost think I toil for such as thou, poor wasp ! 
 To stick thy bodkin deeply ! Oh ! I ween 
 
 1 had not lived so long, nor glamoured men 
 To paint thy surcoat's blazon save with blood 
 To mock thee, idling. Ha ! ha ! look at me, 
 And do thy worst then in thy craven mood ! ' 
 She rose, in lofty stature tall and grim 
 
 An awful Fate that shadowed e'en the Night. 
 
 He sank before her tense intensity, 
 
 That cowardly craven and most dastard knight. 
 
 'Weak puling puppet ! sing thy vengeful song; 
 
 Pipe all thy little rage, and ease thee so. 
 
 I mutter not nor mow because I will, 
 
 And in the silence doth my purpose grow. 
 
 Dost think I'll rest because I do not 'plain 
 
 Nor fling wild useless words to such as thou } 
 
 I tell thee no ! but oh, my vengeance shall 
 
 Steep her in misery from heel to brow. 
 
 I'll drag the seas, but I will wash her forth ; 
 
 I'll sweep the heavens, but I will win her throne: 
 
'LOHENGRIN: 117 
 
 I'll thresh the earth as yeasty foam — but ne'er 
 
 rU yield one grip of vengeance ! till alone 
 
 I reign. Go forth! nor tempt my curse on 
 
 thee ; 
 Let God look to her ! ' Down she sank again, 
 Her chin clutched hardly. 
 
 And he staggered on 
 The palace steps, dim cursing in his pain ; 
 Then wandered forth, and she was left alone. 
 Now leaning on the balcony was 'ware 
 Of Elsa's presence Ortrude — a dew-pearl 
 Within the calyx of the night, so fair 
 She stood. 
 
 There rang a fluted voice in wail 
 Of piteous entreaty : * O Elsa ! ' 
 And gently did the maiden answer fleet, 
 ' Is't thou, poor Ortrude .-* wait. I thought that 
 
 star 
 Would lead thee back to me : our birthday star ! 
 I'm coming to thee, wait but momently 
 Till I descend these steps.' Her voice did faint 
 As she passed inwards, and anon was she 
 Out in the palace yard, and full of love 
 Was guiding the faint Ortrude to the light 
 
ii8 'LOHENGRIN: 
 
 And warmth of her high home ; and weeping 
 
 low 
 The witch-queen seemed to be, yet in the night 
 Not one tear fell ; but as she held her back 
 To let the maiden enter, did she shake 
 Her hand above her head and whirling shapes 
 Of foul dark things seemed sudden to awake. 
 All thro' the doleful hours did Elsa tend 
 The wierdly Fate she'd welcomed to her home, 
 And subtle hint of wrong, and dusky spell 
 Did list full sad, till well-nigh overcome 
 Of horror vague an*d dread of grammerie, 
 She yielded to the temptress, said that all 
 His beauty and the glamour of his love 
 Should not prevail to cozen her. She'd call 
 Upon him on their wedding night to yield 
 And trust her with his name, ay by the Rood ! 
 For that she knew no living soul might dare 
 To lie against. And conquered had Ortrude ! 
 
LOHENGRIN^ 119 
 
 III. ' 
 
 THE MARRIAGE. 
 
 It was the wedding morn ; and merry horns 
 And clarions blew lustily a peal. 
 The market-place was filled in every nook 
 And coign with running folk that reel 
 And totter, push and jostle, in and out, 
 With cheer and gibe and jest, and testy word 
 Or blow, and gaudy all in wedding gear 
 And coif and cap, and scarlet plume and sword. 
 The fountains ran with malmsey and all wines ; 
 The children pelted fruits, the maidens flowers ; 
 The jocund violins, the flutes, and horns, 
 Went madly circling to the dancing hours. 
 The belfries rocked, the bells nigh lost their 
 
 tongues ; 
 The drums swelled tight with sound and dizzy 
 
 boom ; 
 
I20 'LOHENGRIN: 
 
 All men looked glad, all women smiled and 
 
 sang, 
 For her sweet sake respited from sad doom. 
 And then they come. The emperor in state, 
 One glow of beaten gold and priceless gem ; 
 The Swan-Knight by his side, a diamond 
 Alive. Then knights and pursuivants to stem 
 The shouting crowd ; then men at-arms and 
 
 guards 
 In tabards tinted as the rainbow's light ; 
 Then trumpeters with silver trumpet-calls ; 
 Last, all her vassals in their bravery dight. 
 The air rang with wild clamour, glad acclaim ; 
 The grounding spears beat unison throughout ; 
 The brazen shields struck hollow note to hands 
 That smote them poised, when slowly winding 
 
 out 
 The palace gates came Elsa and her train. 
 All white she came, a pearl of perfect price, 
 Clad In a robe of samite like a stole ; 
 Her golden hair was all her veil, and thrice 
 The seedling pearls foamed round her slender 
 
 waist. 
 Close to her ear leant Ortrude like a curse 
 
'LOHENGRIN: 121 
 
 Hissed i' the dark. Of bloody hue her robe ; 
 Her hands tight clenched, as one should felly- 
 nurse 
 Some foul intent ; her brow a dark'ning storm. 
 The bridegroom and the bride meet silently 
 And clasp a wandering hand, then separate 
 To either side their liege ; and presently 
 The bridal trains advance, and all the crowd 
 Whirl in behind and sweep them to the door 
 Of the great church. 
 
 Just on the threshold stone, 
 Lo ! Telramund upriseth straight before 
 The startled pair, and thrusting dark and thin 
 His shivering hands in maniac-wise, with glare 
 Of baffled hate and fury, shrieks he harsh : 
 ' Go back into that Hell that spued thee ! dare ! 
 Foul demon-groom ! Thou never may'st abide 
 Before my curse. Speak but thy name and 
 
 blast 
 Thyself a ruin ; hurl thyself from out 
 Thy vaunted vow and spell ! This is the last 
 Fair warning thou shalt get — 'tis dooming-day ! ' 
 And with the word he sank in that dark crowd 
 A stone i' mud. 
 
122 'LOHENGRIN: 
 
 And men looked questlng-wise 
 Around, and shrank before the whisp'ring loud 
 Of : 'Tis a judgment like the voice of God ! 
 An old sin meeting soul on damning-day ! ' 
 The Kaiser paused ; Ortrude plucked hard and 
 
 grim 
 At Elsa's robe. The Swan-Knight did not stay 
 His glittering feet, but calmly as he trod 
 He lift' his clear brow and his heaven-lit eyes 
 And pleaded silently his Love to trust. 
 And she drew breath from light ; and ecstasies 
 Of awe and peace clothed all her beauty till 
 Men's eyes grew dim with joy of her delight ; 
 And rushing voices shout in gathering swell 
 ' All hail ! our Lady and her Champion Knight ! ' 
 
'LOHENGRIN: 123 
 
 IV. 
 
 THE YIELDING. 
 
 The bridal hymn died ling'ringly away ; 
 One reedy note went thro' the chamber still, 
 A point of sound that pierced the nuptial joy, 
 Like threading of a pearl on passion's thrill. 
 They were alone .... The great night-silences 
 Hung palpable, out-rounding every sigh 
 With prescient form of beauty and of grace. 
 The lattice stood ajar, they could descry 
 The river flowing ever to the sea 
 The reeds among, and far into the west 
 That grave light shone and waned and waxed 
 
 again. 
 That Cometh only with God's better rest, 
 When earth is still, and all the day is done. 
 The Swan-Knight silent stood and motionless, 
 Clad in his silver armour, grave and tall, 
 
124 LOHENGRIN: 
 
 His hair alight with glory, passion pale, 
 
 A sheet of light'ning from God's palace wall ; 
 
 And Elsa did not move. The violins 
 
 Had ceased, and e'en her very heart did faint 
 
 With love and awe supreme, and like a reed 
 
 She bent o'ercome, as one with grief acquaint. 
 
 ' Elsa ! ' he said ; then paused and slowly 'gan 
 
 T' unloose his baldrick, lay his sword aside, 
 
 His diamond gorget oped and cast adown, 
 
 As tho' at length he might with her abide. 
 
 And still she did not move ; but presently 
 
 He drew t' wards her and spake : * Our time is 
 
 come, 
 My Love, God-given ! O peerless of thy race, 
 For thy dear sake I've wandered from my 
 
 home. 
 Art satisfied, O Elsa t speak to me ! ' 
 Godlike, erect he stood and asked her this 
 With winning hands outstretched and solemn 
 
 eyes, 
 Till like to agony surged up her bliss 
 In having still no way, and yet she could 
 Not speak to him for awe, and all her soul 
 
'LOHENGRIN: 125 
 
 Seemed dying with her joy, so strange and 
 
 great, 
 That life should be completed thus, so full 
 The chamber seemed of Paradise and God. 
 He took her then, he drew her to his heart ; 
 He kissed her eyes, her hair, her quiv'ring 
 
 mouth; 
 He whispered 'tween the lips that love did part : 
 ' Art comforted for all thy waiting, Love ? ' 
 Within his arms her hair spun arabesques 
 Of gold on frosted silver, and in time 
 She leaned herself away, and like a sob 
 Her great joy broke from her, a passion chime 
 Of love and death, and inly weeping she. 
 
 * I know not how,* she wailed, ' to name thee — 
 
 God 
 Did not decree I should be mute and die 
 For very agony of lacking word 
 To hold thee by ! Speak to me, speak to me ! ' 
 
 * My Love ! ' he answered, and his voice's tone 
 Stilled all the passion waving to and fro. 
 
 * Ask me no more my name, lest that alone 
 I go my way to God, nor shalt thou come.' 
 Yet in the speaking drew he her anigh 
 
126 'LOHENGRIN: 
 
 And pressed such wealth of love in his caress 
 That she was mad with joy and ecstasy, 
 And slinging arms around his head she drew 
 His face to hers, half wild with unexpressed, 
 Less understood, unutterable desire. 
 
 * To think that thou wilt go all unconfessed 
 From me, my Love, my Life, my Champion still, 
 And I shall never know how but to form 
 
 Thy name, nor call to thee ; but thou wilt know 
 Me as my God created.' 
 
 Was it storm 
 That shook the casement wildly ? was it wail 
 Of souls in purgatory fresh condemned ? 
 She started ceasing, but all sounds were still 
 Save the great river as the reeds it stemmed. 
 
 * Speak ! speak ! ' she urged, half mad she scarce 
 
 knew why. 
 
 * Speak } how to speak } ' he sighed, * Oh ! Elsa, 
 
 Love, 
 Canst thou not trust } and I who trust in thee.' 
 '■ Thou trustest well and nobly : but to move 
 Thee from thy silence ! I yield all to thee. 
 Thou well may'st trust in that thou all dost 
 
 know. 
 
'LOHENGRIN: 127 
 
 Oh ! tell me but thy name to call thee by. 
 
 I'll speak it purely as the falling snow ; 
 
 I'll speak it clearly as the opening morn ; 
 
 I'll speak it slowly as a dying kiss ; 
 
 I'll speak it so the very Angels shall 
 
 Bow down before the Throne and throb for bliss ; 
 
 I'll speak it like the Saviour on the Rood, 
 
 White with His death yet full of mercy sweet ; 
 
 I'll speak it as the weeping woman wept, 
 
 Who brought her all and poured it on His feet.' 
 
 Pale as the dead the knight sat silently, 
 
 His soul wrung thro', his limbs relaxed and 
 
 cold. 
 This was the spell he could not overcome ; 
 He knew full well the secret must be told. 
 She knew full well she'd conquered, and she 
 
 lay 
 Prone on his breast, faint overborne of love. 
 And coming, coming, coming from the sea, 
 A Cry from out the distance grew and throve. 
 It grew, it grew, it waxed, it thrilled, it rang, 
 A reedy, throbbing pulsing on the air. 
 He did not move, she did not move, but all 
 The awe of Death 'gan creeping in her hair. 
 
128 'LOHENGRIN: 
 
 It came, it came ; the moonlight came as well ; 
 The very walls seemed shivering with the stir : ' 
 The sound was awful, overcoming, full, 
 As rushing wings that beat and shadowed her. 
 She stirred, she stood, she staggered on her feet ; 
 She clasped her head, she held him with her 
 
 eyes. 
 She could not breathe, her heart beat in one beat ; 
 The chamber shook and thrilled with harmonies. 
 It came, it came, a solemn awful sound, 
 Each note a rising column of despair. 
 He too arose and stood away ; the light 
 Struck him from head to heel, and held him 
 
 there 
 Shining most awful, sweet, compassionate ; 
 And still the glowing gleaming light did rise. 
 Flooding from heel to head in hyaline 
 Continuous waves his form in lightning- wise. 
 And then the sound was there, aye in the room ! 
 A piercing Call of penetrating Life 
 That shred the living from the dead, and blazed 
 Great spirits on its pinions meet for strife. 
 ' The Swan ! the Swan ! ' The sound broke o'er 
 
 her head, 
 A shriek of agony and vain endeavour 
 
'LOHENGRIN: 129 
 
 That wrung her hands apart and winged her 
 
 feet 
 To fly to him and clasp him, and for ever 
 Weep, pant, and moan : ' I will be still — forgive ! 
 Ah ! leave me not ! ah ! leave me not — forgive ; 
 Forgive me all ; I did not mean — that cry ! — 
 Great God! I did not mean it; oh! believe 
 Me now — I never wished thy name to know. 
 My God ! that cry ! ah ! take me up, enfold 
 Me closer still. Ah ! do not look that way. 
 Forgive, forgive me, love me ; let me hold 
 Thee closer — thou art dying ; look at me ! 
 Thou seemest going from me in that sound.' 
 Then with a long shrill shuddering sob of pain 
 She flung her arms awide and him around. 
 She pressed her face against his face ; her eyes 
 Burnt into his ; her wild lips closed his own. 
 Her body writhed across him like a withe 
 To bind his limbs ; her breaking heart ran down 
 In mad bounds stunning his. And over all 
 That Cry grew awful, and the winged Doom 
 Burst on them. But she lay dead to all woe 
 And grieving. * Elsa ! ' then he said. The 
 
 gloom 
 
 K 
 
I30 'LOHENGRIN: 
 
 That smote on her fell faint apart ; she stirred. 
 
 * Elsa ! * he said again ; and far away 
 
 His voice did sound so pitiful and sad, 
 
 So woven out of all those dreams that sway 
 
 Our deepest longings and our noblest thoughts. 
 
 ' Elsa, the test is o'er, and I must go 
 
 And leave thee lonely to work out thy life ; 
 
 Yet shall I think of thee in weal and woe. 
 
 Ah ! trust me now ; and in the coming time ' 
 
 He sudden ceased, as, bursting in the door, 
 Th' avengers came. 
 
 Last effort of her love 
 To snatch his falchion from the cedarn floor. 
 A clash, a moan — and all was still again. 
 And then he passed forth : 
 
 * Before thy Liege 
 I'll tell thee who I am and where I go ' 
 Were his last words ; but grief held direful siege 
 Of all her senses, and her bitter woe 
 Had reft away all life, all love, all pain. 
 
LOHENGRIN: 131 
 
 THE GOING. 
 
 He spake before them all : 
 
 * King Perclval, 
 Who keeps in ward and watch the Holy Grail, 
 Calls me his son. My name is Lohengrin, 
 A knight and guardian of the Cup.* 
 
 • Now hail ! ' 
 They shout : ' Now hail ! the Trinity ! 
 Hail ! to the victor thrice o'er sin and woe ! 
 Hail ! to the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost ! 
 Hail! high in Heaven, as here on Earth below!' 
 He stood one sheen of silver, a God's stroke 
 Hewn out of living light. The air did stream 
 With diamond, pearl, and opal, and his crest 
 Shone as the smile of God on martyr's dream, 
 As from ten thousand voices rose the cry 
 Of : ' Glory to the Lord ! all glory hail I 
 
132 'LOHENGRIN: 
 
 Ave ! ave ! ave ! to Father, Son, 
 And Holy Ghost that shall o'er all prevail ! 
 We worship, we acknowledge, we adore 
 The Champion and the guardian of the Grail ! ' 
 Then blew the horns an arabesque of sound ; 
 Then thrilled the violins in passionate strain ; 
 Then rolling went the harps in waves of woe ; 
 Then thundered out the drums' melodic pain ; 
 Then shouted all the hearers, such a shout 
 As angels might evoke 'thwart falling skies. 
 Last rose his voice, an organ tone in swell. 
 And hushed the madd'ning whirl of harmonies : 
 * Now peace ! be still ! ' he said. * Be calm ! I go ; 
 But ere I pass away I must fulfil 
 
 My message to my Love. O Elsa ! mine ' 
 
 His voice sank, burdened with its passion's thrill ; 
 The tears shone in his eyes, and tho' the gleam 
 Of Heaven's high dawn still smote him radiantly, 
 It seemed the light of death, and dying he 
 That took those paces forward yearningly. 
 Ah, Love ! ' he sighed, ' ah ! would thou hadst 
 
 been true, 
 So that I might have lived for love and thee ; 
 
'LOHENGRIN: 133 
 
 Oh ! couldst thou but have bided thro' the test, 
 God had not sundered us so direfully. 
 Oh ! in the dawning of the coming day, 
 Arise to fuller knowledge, stronger faith, 
 Belief and Trust the keynotes of thy love, 
 Nor let the world's wild clamour these e'er scathe. 
 Ah ! Heart of mine, I dimly understood 
 How dear such earthly love as thine might be 
 Till I had lost thee — neither understood 
 How weak such love must prove eternally. 
 Yet, Elsa, think of me in coming time, 
 Think of me in the sunrise and at eve ; 
 Oh ! I shall listen from my palace wall 
 To thy sad weeping when thy soul doth grieve. 
 Ah weep ! ah weep ! for thro' the crystal morn 
 Thy tears shall rise a dew mist from the flowers. 
 And I will gather them and think of thee 
 When watching from my far-off castle towers. 
 I must go lonely : this at least hast won, 
 Thine unfulfilled love hath pierced my soul, 
 And ever I shall wait till thou dost come, 
 And our shred lives shall make again God's 
 whole.' 
 
134 'LOHENGRIN: 
 
 His voice so gentle, burdened with sad woe, 
 Filled every heart, and weeping held them all. 
 But Elsa stood erect, nor cried nor spake — 
 What more to her could come or worse befall ? 
 Then coming, coming, coming from the sea, 
 A Cry from out the distance swelled and grew ; 
 It came, it came, it waxed, it thrilled, it rang, 
 The reedy throbbing pulsing note that drew 
 Her Love away from her. She knew it well. 
 She lifted up her eyes in dumb despair 
 And gazed on him ; and once again, ah me ! 
 The awe of Death 'gan creeping in her hair. 
 It came, it came, the dawnlight shimmering 
 
 thro', 
 Till light was sound, all Heaven was in the stir. 
 Not one did move, no breath passed thro' the 
 
 air 
 Of that great Doom that overshadowed her. 
 Straight went that Call in piercing symphony ; 
 So sweet thro' soul and spirit clear it drove 
 That life hung balanced on the ecstasy 
 And fainted as the silence down it clove — 
 And over all, and ever over all, 
 Uprose the columns of the thrilling note 
 
'LOHENGRIN: 135 
 
 That shred the living from the dead, and shook 
 Vast wings of rushing sound that thund'ring 
 
 smote ; 
 Then came a pause. Clear as a falling star, 
 Sweet as the dewy light on Easter morn, 
 The Swan-Knight spoke : 
 
 * O Elsa ! wilt thou take 
 A token of me, this mine opal horn ? ' 
 She drew a hand's breadth nearer as he bent 
 To sling it round her neck so small and white. 
 Then fell upon his breast in ravishment 
 And overcome of all his love's delight. 
 * My Heart,' he murmured, * when thou'rt weep- 
 ing lone, 
 Nought but remorse and woe thy spirit fills, 
 Place this against thy lips, and L shall hear, 
 How faint soe'er, the echo on my hills. 
 My soul will rise and wing her way to thine, 
 And shadow thee with dreams of coming bliss ; 
 My lips shall blow a distant call to thee. 
 And thou shalt feel the glamour of my kiss.' 
 She fainted not for joy, yet closer hung, 
 Half dead for loss of such a love as this. 
 Half wild for thought of what was cast away, 
 Of what thro' all Life's living she must miss. 
 
136 'loheagrin: 
 
 He lift' her head with tender grace and sweet, 
 Looked in her eyes and read her dumb despair ; 
 Then drew from off his finger a pale gem 
 Of lustre matchless, keen as frosty air. 
 He looked awide and signed him with the cross. 
 Then placed it on her hand, and sighing said : 
 
 * This our betrothal ring I give to thee 
 
 In token of my trust. When thou art dead, 
 Thou too shalt yield to me such faith, I ween, 
 Before God's Throne beneath the Holy Grail. 
 Till then keep troth, O Elsa ! lest alone 
 I evermore must stand, and sin prevail' 
 Last did he draw his sword and held the glaive 
 Breast-high. The light along the blade ran 
 
 small, 
 A thread of woe to pierce and penetrate, 
 And end all strivings 'neath a fun'ral pall 
 
 * Take here my sword,* he said ; * 'tis true as 
 
 Death ; 
 And that we well may trust, for that alone 
 Can bring us both beneath one canopy 
 When God's great trump is raised and judgment 
 
 blown. 
 And last, and last ' 
 
'LOHENGRIN: 137 
 
 He drew her to his breast ; 
 He strained her drooping body 'gainst his own ; 
 He kissed her slowly, kissed her reverently, 
 He kissed her thrice. 
 
 She thought her woe was done. 
 Alas ! he loosed her form and stood apart ; 
 And now the glowing Death-light did arise 
 Flooding from head to heel in hyaline 
 Continuous waves his form in lightning-wise. 
 And coming, coming, coming from the sea 
 A piercing Call of penetrating Life 
 That shred her from him in dread mystery, 
 And seemed the very essence of Death's strife. 
 She dared not stir ; all motionless and wan 
 She saw him step into the silver boat ; 
 She heard the passionate greeting of the swan, 
 That on her breaking heart in glamour smote. 
 When sudden sprang the witch-queen from 
 
 anigh : 
 * Ha ! ha ! ' she hissed, ' she was not innocent ! 
 Or else where lives that murdered child but now 
 He shed his blood to champion, devil-sent } ' 
 Then Lohengrin spread wide his arms, and lo ! 
 The swan arose with awful joyous call. 
 
138 'LOHENGRIN? 
 
 A swan no more, but Elsa's brother lost, 
 Thus kept for her lest evil should befall 
 Him worse than this : the silver boat to bring 
 With her lost Love to her. And last a Dove 
 Descending drew the silver boat away. 
 And still she did not utter, did not move. 
 Ortrude sank foiled, a shapeless writhing mass ; 
 Nor heeded any her foul blasphemies, 
 For all men wondered, praised, and breathlessly 
 Shrilled : * Hail ! all hail ! ' unto the rocking 
 
 skies. 
 And still he turned as all the people ran 
 A shouting race, and clarions and horns 
 Thrilled madly clamouring their: Hail ! all hail ! 
 And she stood lonely 'mid their jeers and scorns. 
 He turned and gazed on her, and stretched his 
 
 hand 
 In dumb entreaty to her not to fail. 
 She stilly stood, whilst all her life did whirl 
 As mist around her, spent without avail. 
 Her arms hung down, her perfect loveliness 
 Drooped all away unloved, untended, lone ; 
 Save in her eyes was nought but Death, and they 
 Broke dry and burning. Life and Love undone. 
 
'LOHENGRIN: 139 
 
 And still, amid the shouting of the throng, 
 Those two alone were silent that felt most, 
 Their sad hearts striving each to bear apart 
 Their burden, dumbly praying theirs the worst, 
 And over all, the thunder and the cries 
 Of men and viols tuning, beat and swept. 
 And ever further from her went the boat. 
 And left her standing petrified regret ; 
 And e'er his voice, a Soul-Cry, died away 
 As down the river past the silver boat ; 
 The reeds and rushes trembling did o'ersway 
 The broken-hearted echo that did float 
 Thro' all the din and shouting, and acclaim 
 Straight to her soul : 
 
 ' My Love, my Love, farewell ! 
 Think on my trust in thee till I may claim 
 Thy faith in me, and Christ shall say : 'Tis well.' 
 
 November^, 1877. 
 
SONGS FOR MY LOVE 
 TO SING 
 
SONGS FOR MY LOVE TO SING. 
 
 I. 
 
 What the wild wind is to the crisping sea, 
 What the mountain height to the eagle free, 
 What the sunlight soft to the lily lea, 
 My Love is all and more to me. 
 
 'Twould be as the clank of the rusty chain 
 That holdeth the captive bound to pain ; 
 Twould be as the pause when storms are rife ; 
 'Twould be as the Death of Hope in Life ; 
 'Twould be as the blow on the outstretched wing, 
 Could my Love no longer breathe or sing. 
 
144 ^"^ONGS FOR MY LOVE TO SING. 
 
 11. 
 
 I PLUCKED a rose to send unto my Love, 
 A white queen-rose all bathed in purity ; 
 I pressed the leaves apart with tender hand, 
 And kissed the white depths of it tremblingly. 
 
 Go, bear unto my Love with faint perfume 
 The rose-red of my lip, the heart-throb of my 
 
 love. 
 Go ! lie in her soft hand caressingly, 
 And thus to her my true devotion prove. 
 
 Go ! press thy heart unto her trembling lip, 
 And waste thy beauty in a dying sigh ; 
 Go ! say to her : T only lived to love 
 And to be loved of thee, and then — to die. 
 
SONGS FOR MY LOVE TO SING. 145 
 
 III. 
 
 Good-night, Beloved ! 
 
 The storm doth cover 
 With darkness primeval the land and sea ; 
 But God's great Angels around Thee hover, 
 And I think of them when I think of Thee ! 
 Good-night ! Good-night ! 
 
 Good-night, Beloved ! 
 
 The lightning playeth 
 Like strings of a harp by terror unstrung ; 
 But I know far away for me Thou prayeth, 
 For the distant vesper bells have rung. 
 Good-night ! Good-night ! 
 
 Good-night, Beloved ! 
 
 The west wind softly 
 Sigheth of Thee as it lulls me to rest 
 L 
 
146 SONGS FOR MY LOVE TO SING. 
 
 And I know that ever in God's high 
 
 keeping 
 My Love's asleep with the cross on her 
 
 breast. 
 Good-night ! Good-night ! 
 
 Good-night, Beloved ! 
 
 Thine Angels watching 
 Whisper my name as they bend o'er Thee. 
 Ah ! mayest Thou keep for ever and ever 
 Thy Love's true heart and Thy purity. 
 Good-night ! Good-night ! 
 
SONGS FOR MY LOVE TO STNG. U7 
 
 IV. 
 
 What shall I liken Thee unto ? 
 
 A Heatherbell on yon lone mountain crest, 
 A Dewdrop trembling on a wild rose breast, 
 A Violet more sweet than all the rest, 
 A Kiss upon my lips when I am sad, 
 A kindling Look when I am gay and glad ? 
 Thou'rt like the memory sad yet sweet 
 
 Of my lost Past, 
 That gazeth at me wistfully 
 And smiles at last. 
 
 L 2 
 
148 SONGS FOR MY LOVE TO SING. 
 
 V. 
 
 There is a wild bank in my Heart 
 
 Whereon forget-me-nots grow, 
 
 Full well I wot why this is so ; 
 'Tis for love of my Love they blow, they blow ; 
 'Tis for love of my I.ove they blow. 
 
 There is a song-bird in my Heart, 
 He singeth the long days thro', 
 From morning's light till ev'ning's dew — 
 
 My love for my Love is true, is true ; 
 My love for my Love is true. 
 
 There is a chapel in my Heart 
 
 Where the tapers glimmer and glow, 
 Whence a hymn of praise doth flow — 
 My love for my Love is pure as snow, 
 Is pure as the Mountain snow. 
 
SONGS FOR MY LOVE TO SING. 149 
 
 There is a wailing in my Heart ; 
 
 The forget-me-not buds are dead ; 
 
 The bird that sang is scared and fled ; 
 
 The chapel is fallen, the lights are sped. 
 My love for my Love's a Thing of Dread, 
 
 A word of woe and a Thing of Dread. 
 
 There is a Spirit that weeps alway, 
 
 That weepeth sore o'er love's decay, 
 That weepeth sore as it fades away. 
 
 Oh ! would that our love might always stay 
 The same as to-day and yesterday. 
 
ISO SONGS FOR MY LOVE TO SING. 
 
 VI. 
 
 You came and laid your two white hands 
 
 Like folded flowers in one of mine, 
 
 So small they were, so white, so soft, 
 
 Like snowdrop bells, so veined and fine. 
 
 You came and laid them down one day 
 
 And smiled into my yearning eyes. 
 
 Ah me ! you stole my heart away. 
 
 Yet were unconscious of your prize. 
 
 They rested as you let them fall, 
 
 Clasped soft and close like yielding snow. 
 
 Yet held they, unawares to all, 
 
 A chain of love ne'er forged below. 
 
 This little chain then link by link 
 
 I gathered to my heart and breast ; 
 
 It drew me surely to the brink 
 
 Of Love's wide sea. . . . Yoti know the rest. 
 
SONGS FOR MY LOVE TO {SING. 151 
 
 VII. 
 
 BelovI:d, 
 
 Take this little flower 
 And lay it 'tween the leaves of Holy Writ, 
 Then think of me in that still ev'ning hour 
 When Thy sweet eyes shall fall and rest on it ; 
 So may Thine heart fold into one our names, 
 Thoughts of my love for Thee may soothe Thy 
 
 care, 
 And God will hearken from the Great White 
 
 Throne 
 To both our names united in a prayer. 
 
152 SONGS FOR MY LOVE TO SING, 
 
 VIII. 
 
 It seems to me all who have truly loved 
 
 Have alway nobly sung, 
 And my sad heart must either weep or break, 
 
 It is so tightly strung. 
 So will I wring the chords that, it may be, 
 
 I thus attune those right now shiver'd wrong. 
 And wing my Soul to Thine on melody, 
 
 Tho* it should prove my own funereal song. 
 
SONGS FOR MY LOVE TO SING. 153 
 
 IX. 
 
 A Valentine. 1870. 
 
 Myosotis! Myosotis! 
 
 Dancing on thy tiny feet 
 With thy little azure wimple, 
 Hiding coyly the shy dimple 
 Round thy golden heart so sweet. 
 
 Myosotis ! Myosotis ! 
 
 Wooing soft the morning breeze 
 'Neath the shadow of the trees, 
 Where the river, sighing ever, 
 In circuitous endeavour 
 Loves and dies, or vainly flies 
 The witchery of thy winning eyes. 
 With a dew pearl on thy brow. 
 What on earth so sweet as Thou, 
 Gazing shyly up at me. 
 Till my heart is like to faint 
 With my love's unbreath^d plaint ? 
 
154 SONGS FOR MY LOVE TO SING. 
 
 Myosotis ! Myosotis ! 
 
 Let me lift thy azure wimple ; 
 Let me kiss thy changing dimple ; 
 Let me clasp thy clinging fingers, 
 Closing o'er thy golden breast ; 
 Let me gather thee, my Treasure, 
 To my heart for e'er to rest. 
 
SOA^GS FOR^Y LOVE TO SING. 155 
 
 X. 
 
 O WILD winged words ! arise and fly 
 
 Like the seeds of the thistle flower ; 
 
 Waft ! waft ! and float and touch for me 
 The soul of my Love with power. 
 
 Cling ! cling ! to her raiment, so soft and light, 
 And creep 'tween the folds on her breast; 
 
 And then, O dear words ! lie so sweet, so close, 
 That her senses ye lull to rest. 
 
 O wild winged words ! arise and float 
 
 On the breeze of the swooning eve, 
 
 And fall like a kiss from pleading lips 
 
 On hers should they sigh or grieve. 
 
 O wild winged words ! so clear and strong. 
 Rise, rise like a trumpet call ; 
 
 Stir the heart of my Love with ecstasy, 
 And arouse her spirit from thrall. 
 
IS6 SONGS FOR MY LOVE TO SING. 
 
 Swell up with a lordly and joyful grace, 
 Fling wide the portals of Life 
 
 And win her for me with reverent love 
 
 To guard from all sorrow and strife. 
 
SONGS FOR MY LOVE TO SING. 1$? 
 
 XI. 
 
 Richest and rarest of all the gifts that my Got 
 
 gave to me, 
 * Love,' the divine and enthralling, O Love ! I 
 
 bestowed on thee 
 
 For then and for eternity. 
 I poured it forth without counting ; I flung it 
 
 before thee alone — 
 Pure and divine, unalloyed — I gave thee my 
 
 heart for a throne ; 
 
 And now — it is turnM to stone. 
 
 I gave — as the wind gives its music ; 
 I gave — as the waters their flow ; 
 I gave — as the sun gives its splendour ; 
 I gave — as the wild flowers blow ; 
 I gave — with a godlike renouncement 
 Of claim to the smallest return. 
 
158 SONGS FOR MY LOVE TO SING. 
 
 But I knew, and the Lord He too knoweth, what 
 perfect renouncement will earn. 
 
 Touched by my passionate worship, won by my 
 trust and my love, 
 
 After long years thy pure spirit out of its circle 
 did move, 
 
 Came unto me in its beauty, with the Death- 
 Doom on its brow, 
 Said — and my heart stopped its beating : — 
 ' O ! too late .... yet I love thee now ; 
 Too late, O Darling ! yet take these 
 Remains of my rest — craving heart ; 
 Take them, O take them. Beloved ! 
 If so I but yield thee a part 
 Of the passionate love and devotion 
 Thou'st lavished so nobly on me. 
 And which I have used with wonder. 
 Scarce love, in my sore misery. 
 Yet now,' and thy voice broke in anguish . . 
 * It bursteth on me like a flame 
 Of exceeding and Heavenly lustre. 
 To which my soul answers by name. 
 I think . . . .' and thine eyes dimmed with 
 
 longing— 
 ' I think our two spirits did love. . . . 
 
SONGS FOR MY LOVE TO SING. 159 
 
 I know . . . .' and thy star eyes dilated — 
 * That in Heaven mine cannot remove. 
 I think,' and thy head fell in weeping — 
 ' I think I shall see thee from there ; 
 And I know . . . .' thy lips to mine 
 J pressing — 
 'Thy soul will reach mine in a prayer. . , .' 
 
 I had won thee ! O best, my Beloved, my soul 
 
 sprang to thine, satisfied. 
 Six months .... in the wild Autumn gloaming, 
 
 the flowers and my Darling had died. . . . 
 Yet I think of thy words when I won thee, and I 
 
 kneel in the darkness and pray ; 
 For I feel that my orisons reach thee, though 
 
 God only knoweth the way. 
 
i6o SONGS FOR MY LOVE TO SING. 
 
 XII. 
 
 I GAZE in other's eyen to see 
 
 The depths of mine own fealty ; 
 
 Forsworn to all, yet true to thee 
 Thro' Death to Life's eternity. 
 
SONGS FOR MY LOVE TO SING. i6i 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Would I were in yon stars to-night, 
 And thou, my Love, in beauty dight. 
 Didst walk this lonesome earth ; then I 
 Might gaze on thee with myriad eyes 
 From out great Love's great Paradise, 
 And draw thy soul to mine on high. 
 Then should we meet on Love's own ground 
 And still our souls from Death's deep wound. 
 And clasp and clasp, until our faith 
 Had wrought a miracle, and \ve 
 Were twain no more — so might it be 
 That two in one should conquer Death. 
 * Thou hast two eyes like living flame. 
 My love,' thou sayest, * and but to name 
 Thy love for me brings thee anigh.' 
 Mine eyes are dim and wet with tears 
 To-night, dear Love. One night is years 
 Apart from thee ; but if the sky 
 M 
 
i62 SOAGS FOR MY LOVE TO SING. 
 
 Held all my love and trust in thee 
 
 In myriad eyen, it well might be 
 
 The passion of a thousand hearts 
 
 Should tremble through those worlds supreme, 
 
 And simultaneously outbeam 
 
 And quench the earthly cause that parts. 
 
'63 
 
 'SUNSET AT QUIMFER: 
 
 1874. 
 
 The daylight dies and all is very still ; 
 A golden glory setteth thro' the west ; 
 A veiling mist of smoke swings dreamily 
 Athwart the gleam, and all things sink to rest 
 The eve steals like a novice t' wards the gates, 
 For evermore a bride of God and Heaven, 
 And turneth with the lovelight in her eyes 
 Away from us and all the haunts of men. 
 
 M2 
 
[64 
 
 HELM- WEH: 
 
 Weep ye not for the dead ; neither bemoan him, but weep sore 
 for him that goeth away, for he shall return no more, nor see 
 his native country. 
 
 The hard bright light 
 On sea and land 
 Strikes at me like 
 An angry hand. 
 
 The cold grey of the olive wood 
 Is like a thing of icy blood 
 
 Or mocking smile in bitter mood, 
 
 Most sorrowful when understood. 
 
 A sound comes with the seething sea 
 Of sharp dissonant harmony, 
 
'heim-weh: 165 
 
 A grating saw on stone — O me ! 
 The dullness of monotony. 
 
 The white sails flit across the main, 
 Nor ever come the same again ; 
 
 They all go on, and I — remain, 
 
 And hold my yearning heart in vain. 
 
 Ah dear, dear land ! — Home-land, I weep : 
 Will longing for you alway steep 
 
 My days in tears and break my sleep ? 
 
 How gladly would I homewards creep. 
 
 What tho' my life should quicker fleet 
 In that kind air so bracing, sweet, 
 
 How gladly would I yield complete 
 Possession unto Death, and greet 
 
 Him like a friend in that Home-land, 
 Tho' here I shudder from his hand. 
 
i66 
 
 * THE MOON AND THE BROOK: 
 
 ' The moon looks on many brooks, the brook sees but one moon. ' 
 
 The moon stole down from dark'ning heights 
 
 With mystic robe of pearl, 
 She dimned the ancient harbour lights, 
 
 And gently lit the swirl 
 Of fretting bar and moaning wave ; 
 
 For well — she sadly thought — 
 Did sailors strive who here a grave 
 
 Have found when Death them sought. 
 
 She passed the town, and up the hill 
 Her glittering feet did glide ; 
 
 She lingered o'er the haunted mill, 
 And swept the quarry side. 
 
' THE MOON AND THE BROOK: 167 
 
 At length she came, the fern among, 
 
 Upon a tiny stream 
 That smiled amidst a wavering song : 
 
 A love voice in a dream. 
 
 She leaned her down and gently kissed 
 
 Each little murm'ring flake ; 
 The happy streamlet barely wist, 
 
 Nor did the waters wake. 
 It sang, went singing as before : 
 
 * Forget-me-nots are sweet ! 
 And meadow's-pride upon the shore 
 
 Shall mate with golden wheat. 
 The king-cups and the arrow-heads 
 
 Are clubs and staves, quoth they, 
 'Neath willows on the sandy beds 
 
 The yearling trout will play.' 
 
 Once more the moon her mystic hand 
 
 Laid on the stilly weir ; 
 In molten silver on the strand 
 
 Awoke the streamlet clear 
 Woke up and gazed and loved straightway 
 
 The wonder-working maid ; 
 
i6S 'THE MOON AND THE BROOK: 
 
 Sang loudly sweet a ringing lay 
 To win her. In the shade 
 
 She coyly stept ; the streamlet wept, 
 And ever on its way 
 
 It fled to seek — had it but slept 
 The charmed night away. 
 
 * Forget-me-nots are pale/ it weeps ; 
 
 ' The meadow's-pride lies dead ; 
 The willow all her tresses steeps 
 
 Drowned hair above my head ; 
 The arrow-heads and king-cups fine 
 
 Have withered, shrunk, and died ; 
 The trout in phantom rings combine 
 
 To quit my waters wide. 
 O mystic maiden ! pale and white. 
 
 Come to me on dream wings. 
 Or render me my pure delight 
 
 In earth's sweet minor things.' 
 
 The moon had smiled and passed away, 
 That mystic maiden white : 
 
 What was to her the streamlet's lay .? 
 A dream-voice in the night. 
 
169 
 
 'THE LITTLE WILD WILL-a-THE-lVISF: 
 
 A LITTLE wild will-o'-the-wisp did sit 
 Alone in a marsh, with his lantern dark ; 
 And he watched the pied swallows fly over it, 
 And he watched the pied swallows so softly 
 
 flit, 
 And he thought to himself : I am only a spark ; 
 But what would the marish-buds think of it, 
 If my little lantern were gone ? thought he. 
 
 The swallows flew low, and the swallows flew 
 . high. 
 And the thunder-clouds climbed away to the 
 
 west, 
 And out in the east was no light in the sky, 
 And out of the east came a wind by and by ; 
 And all the white poplars were paling for rest, 
 
I70 'THE LITTLE WILD WILL-O'-THE-WISP: 
 
 And all the weak willows did wail and did 
 
 sigh: 
 Heigh ho ! little lantern, a dark night is 
 
 nigh ! 
 
 The marish-buds stood in a goodly array, 
 
 And mocked on their stems at the will-o'-the- 
 wisp ; 
 
 If the night it is dark, will you lighten us, 
 pray ? 
 
 If the night it is dark, will you cheer us, O ! 
 say ? 
 
 You weak little spark that but quiver and 
 lisp ! 
 
 And the sword -grass and arrow-heads join in 
 and cry : 
 
 What's the use of a light down below us, O ! 
 fie! 
 
 The swallows flew high, and the swallows flew 
 low, 
 And the swallows they piped to the one and 
 the other: 
 
' THE LITTLE WILD WILL-O'-THE-WISP: 171 
 
 What a poor little thing ! without feathers, 
 
 you know ; 
 What a poor little thing ! ever flitting below ; 
 Not mounting, like us, -to the clouds, O my 
 
 brother ! 
 So useless a creature had better go out 
 Than shine to the slime and the slugs all 
 
 about ! 
 
 The river came hushing the tall reeds among 
 With a sharp ringing sound of a reaper's steel 
 
 hook ; 
 And a fair little child wandered singing a song, 
 And a fair little child came the river along, 
 And read in a little black velvet-bound book. 
 Light up ! little lantern, that I too may see 
 If the singer despiseth thy lantern and me. 
 
 But stronger and stronger the storm grew to 
 
 power ; 
 The marshes were moving, the waters were 
 
 out. 
 The wild wicked storm shrieked shriller and 
 
 lower, 
 
172 ' THE LITTLE WILD WILL-a-THE-WISP: 
 
 The wicked wild storm knew its conquering 
 
 hour, 
 And seized on the fair little child with a shout, 
 And sprang like a beast from some horrible 
 
 lair, 
 And caught up the will-o'-the-wisp by the 
 
 hair. 
 
 The little wild will-o'-the-wisp saw it drowned, 
 All alone in the marsh with his lantern alight, 
 And he shrieked in his anguish till over and 
 
 round 
 Swung the light of his lantern and fell to the 
 
 ground. 
 And his heart swelled to breaking and died 
 
 in a bound 
 He took o'er the marish-buds, swooning with 
 
 fright 
 In the gloom and the storm of the ravening 
 
 night. 
 
 Alone and alone, and for e'er lonely now, 
 The little pied swallows fly over the marsh ; 
 
' THE LITTLE WILD WILL-O'-THE-WISP: 173 
 
 The little pied swallows fly high and fly low, 
 And call to each other in pipings of woe : 
 O ! sometimes we think we were rude and 
 
 were harsh 
 To the will-o'-the-wisp ; in the evenings and 
 
 night 
 Miss the marsh-buds, as we do, his keen little 
 
 light ? 
 
 Afar in the gardens of Eden, I know 
 A fair little child goeth singing a song ; 
 A fair little child singeth sweetly and low 
 A song of the Singer's redeemed from woe. 
 And ever there moves with it gently along 
 A little marsh spirit just over its brow, 
 And shines on eternal, a living flame now. 
 
174 
 
 'THE REMORSE OF LAUNCELOTJ 
 
 The rain ran silently a silver race, 
 
 And Launcelot, heart-broken in his place, 
 
 Sat musing on his Love's disgrace 
 
 And misery. 
 ' How could I choose but love thee every way, 
 Thou in thy perfect moods so sweet alway, 
 And yet oft startled at thine own heart's sway 
 
 And witchery ? 
 Thou with thy stately loveliness, a dream 
 Men well might mystic and yet earthly deem. 
 And strive in vain to find thy peer and seem 
 
 To fail each time. 
 O Guinevere ! how perfect was our love, 
 How blessed were we when erst glad love did 
 
 move 
 Us each toward the other, and above 
 
 Us both did climb 
 
'THE REMORSE OF LAUNCELOT: 175 
 
 The glory of the king ; and we so glad 
 To praise him with our hearts, nor ever had 
 To weigh our words, and find them empty, sad. 
 
 Or hollow then. 
 And thou didst call me in that early day : 
 His Launcelot, our Launcelot ! yet say 
 No more, but look till I was faint 'neath sway 
 
 Of love. And when 
 Thou touched me e'er so light with finger tip, 
 Like curl of tendril vines that wand'ring clip 
 Some strong young wood ; or soft thy lip 
 
 Would warm my ear 
 vVith mellow accent, asking for the King 
 With just a quiver in thy voice's ring, 
 Like western wind in summer, or the swing 
 
 Of distant clear 
 Most dreamy convent bells ; or e'en thy dress 
 Oid fall against my knee, or gently press 
 The air athwart my forehead, a caress 
 
 It well-nigh seemed. 
 Sweet heart ! O proud and peerless Guinevere ! 
 I loved thee, my Beloved, far and near. 
 I loved thee without stinting, without fear ; 
 
 Nor had I dreamed 
 
176 'THE REMORSE OE LAUNCELOT: 
 
 Thou couldst love me ; yet ever as the days 
 Grew longer in the light, by many ways 
 Of flushing cheek, or clasped hand, by lays 
 
 Of ancient song 
 Thou led'st me to believe it well might be 
 That I— dear Christ ! — had stolen thy heart to 
 
 me, 
 And held it at my will. How could I be 
 
 Unearthly strong? 
 Thy voice's sweetness sank from day to day 
 To lower whisper, as thy hand did stray 
 To meet my seeking clasp, and every way 
 
 Thou wert more kind. 
 Thine eyes were full of mingled light and tears, 
 Deep shadows floated thro' them like a mere's 
 Reflection of a cloud. How hardly fears 
 
 Could footing find 
 For any harm approaching one so high 
 As was my Queen, my Guinevere } Not I 
 Could think of such, when ever nigher, nigh 
 
 Great passion crept. 
 O Arthur ! noblest of a noble race. 
 Most trusting, perfect friend ! beyond disgrace, 
 Beyond the dooming of thy stricken face. 
 
 Great passion leapt. 
 
'THE REMORSE OF LAUNCELOT: 177 
 
 And yet I loved thee, O my king ! as none 
 Have been more loved ; and reverenced thee 
 
 alone 
 And far beyond all other, having won 
 
 Thy trusting faith. 
 And yet — I wronged thee. E'en my very blood 
 Thou wilt not use to serve thee. That I could 
 But pour it out, tho' late, and wash my mood 
 
 Of shame in death. 
 O broken heart ! too great, too strong to weep, 
 'Twas left for me in misery to steep 
 Thy noble life, who now would gladly creep 
 
 A worm 'fore thee. 
 
 Guinevere ! O Arthur ! each and both 
 
 1 wronged ye in the past, ard now full loth 
 My spirit in its misery is wroth 
 
 At perfidy. 
 O ! never more, my king, thy strong clasp can 
 Enstrengthen me to be a worthy man. 
 Thine own brave brother ; weary tho' I scan 
 
 The battle fields. 
 No more thine eagle-eye can glance with keen 
 Delight upon my prowess, say : I ween 
 N 
 
1 78 'THE REMORSE OF LAUNCELOT: 
 
 Of none so brave as Launcelot, my Queen, 
 
 Behind the shields ! 
 O ! never more, my Guinevere, may we 
 Meet with such rank, disloyal fealty 
 And love each other madly, yet be free 
 
 Of any blood. 
 Of blood ? His blood lies like an awful dream 
 Athwart our lives ; a fun'ral pall to stream 
 Thro' all the ages of the dark'ning gleam 
 
 Of Christianhood. 
 And here I sit alone. The wild swan's cry 
 Rings out across the marshes mournfully — 
 O Guinevere ! O Arthur ! would that I 
 'Fore all my love had kept true fealty 
 
 To both of ye.* 
 
179 
 
 A SPRING CAROL. 
 
 And it's O ! for the fine, fine weather, 
 
 When the golden broom is out, 
 All amongst the bronzed brown heather. 
 
 And the west wind roves about. 
 And it's O ! for the sweet wild west wind, 
 
 Seeking its heart to steal 
 All adown i' the glens and hollows, 
 
 Where most its breath you feel ! 
 And it's O ! for the deep'ning sunlight. 
 
 Glinting on bush and spray, 
 Brushing softly golden the willows 
 
 In their suit of winter gray. 
 And it's O ! for the chirping martins, 
 
 As they pipe and build i' the sand, 
 And gather in small pied parties 
 
 On return from the unknown land. 
 
i8o A SPRING CAROL. 
 
 And it's O ! for the leaping sea waves, 
 
 As they curl and sparkle in. 
 And the merry dancing sea-weeds 
 
 Th' advancing shores that win. 
 And it's O ! for the dusky fir woods 
 
 That lure the sunshine thro', 
 And steep with piny odours 
 
 The softened gleam and glow. 
 And it's O ! for the purpling moorlands 
 
 Where fern and rushes don 
 Bright coats of mail in verdure, 
 
 And rills go piping on. 
 And it's O ! for the sweet spring weather 
 
 When earth sings gladly gay, 
 And our merry hearts, rejoicing, 
 
 Love out their youthful day. 
 And it's O ! for the quiet churchyard, 
 
 Where the yews stand calmly sad, 
 And we know that our Dead, rejoicing. 
 
 The Better Spring have had. 
 
i8] 
 
 THE ANGELUS. 
 
 To Virginia GabrieL 
 1877. 
 
 Upon the mountain heights all day 
 The giant shadows deathlike lay, 
 And all was still and cold and gray. 
 
 Upon the mountain heights at eve 
 The sun's last rays a glory leave, 
 And out of shadows light they weave. 
 
 Thro' all the clouding of my years 
 My weary heart the Angelus hears, 
 
 And then I know : 
 
 As evening lights 
 
 Upon the snow. 
 
 My life shall like 
 
 A ruby glow, 
 
1 82 THE ANGELUS. 
 
 My dead heart like 
 A gentian blow 
 At eventide 
 When I lie low. 
 
1^3 
 
 FOTHERINGAY. 
 
 A Fragment. 
 
 {Night — Mary at the windozu.) 
 
 * Now drops the dreamy night 
 Her zone adown the sky 
 Star-studded, and anigh 
 Wake the lone bird and I 
 The echoes solemnly, 
 And silence do requite 
 Each with our woeful plight. 
 A wind is in my hair, 
 Death chill and bitter cold. 
 My sorrows have grown old, 
 And as grim winter bold 
 Or ivy on church mould 
 
1 84 FO THE RING A Y. 
 
 Have clutched and twined there 
 
 And frosted it with care. 
 O life, life, life ! O weary, heart-wrung thing ! 
 A cloud of dust blown o'er an empty well. 
 Sweet life ! a crown of light on angel brow ; 
 Dread life ! an echoing war-cry of the damned. 
 And so to die. . . . God wills life, peace, and 
 
 love ; 
 Man, misery and death . . . and so to die. . . . 
 Alas ! who fears to die } not I, sweet Christ. 
 Alas ! who cares to live } sweet Christ, not I. 
 Life — slavish sensuous breath to breathe. 
 With all life's beauty, all life's freedom slain. 
 Out of my life gone all the strength and love. . . 
 
 \A cloud passing, in the shadows the ring 
 of a mailed foot. 
 Now Ave ! Ave ! Mary, Death draws nigh 
 To break this English thraldom from my neck ! 
 
 [ The cloud passing, in the shadozvs sounds 
 of workmen raising a scaffold. 
 From off my neck by breaking it , . . . my heart 
 Broke long ago. . . . Death passes from my soul 
 And clasps my body. O fair body ! claspt 
 In tender foldinfjs often. Now shall Death 
 
FOTHERINGAY. 185 
 
 Prove wondrous kind ; short shrift and leaping 
 
 end 
 To all dispute. . . . 
 
 My sister's hair no more 
 Too light shall seem in hue, steeped thro' and 
 
 thro' 
 With russet of my blood — blood blackens fast. . . 
 Above my tomb a little light shall spring 
 And spread a gleansing flame from Isle to Isle. 
 Mary is dead ! the wicked wanton witch ! 
 The bells will loudly ring in kirk and Tower, 
 And all my land will shout when I lie dead ; 
 And James will smile and think himself a king. 
 Nor one will weep nor wail when I lie low. . . . 
 [ The cloud passes^ the moon floods the whole 
 room. 
 Fall, moon, upon my lonely prison floor. 
 What will it cost thee, O thou maiden pure ! 
 To shine a little lower in thy flight 
 'Fore daylight leaps enthroned and thou art 
 
 claspt 
 Within his beauty, to enravished eyes 
 Most beauteous so complete, and thus he wins 
 Redoubled praise 1 I know thy soft light shines 
 
1 86 FOTHERINGA Y, 
 
 On many throbbing brows and burning hearts 
 Right silverly and softly, tender, sweet, 
 Tho' yet on mine so coldly. Ah ! shine on, 
 Shine on, pale orb, tho' not for very long 
 I crave a boon of any shining thing ; 
 Not steel, nor flame, nor light, nor liberty. . . . 
 I am content to die since I have learnt 
 That in the future Christ alone is King 
 And yields to all the due of their . . . 
 
 — Bothwell! . . .' 
 
 ^ Dense darkness — sounds of dull hammering. 
 
i87 
 
 WHEN THE LONG DA Y IS DONE. 
 
 Rest cometh not, nor peace— she said ; 
 
 The day is but begun ; 
 Yet shall this burning noon pass by, 
 The shadows will fall presently 
 
 When the long day is done. 
 
 It seemeth now I only live 
 
 Half-life ; those others gone, 
 To stand glad Angels before Him 
 And worship with the Cherubim, 
 Now their long day is done. 
 
 I hold my heart in thrall, nor weep 
 
 Until the race be won ; 
 For tears must weaken as they flow, 
 And bitter fall on other's woe 
 
 Ere their long day be done. 
 
WHEN THE LONG DAY IS DONE. 
 
 Some call me proud, yet when they faint 
 
 And fail to stand alone, 
 I stretch to them my trembling hand 
 In vain ; they will not understand 
 
 Till their long day is done 
 
 That all great sorrow yields us strength 
 
 To lead the weary on ; 
 And what is reft from one is given 
 To help the weaker on to Heaven 
 
 'Fore the long day is done. 
 
 I thought at first the days were long, 
 
 And work there seemed none ; 
 Now many turn and cling and say : 
 Thou who art strong lead on the way 
 Ere our long day be done. 
 
 As I was helped, then left alone, 
 
 A sep'rate race I run. 
 Yet strive to lift a lonely soul 
 Or guide a child towards the goal 
 
 Before the day is done. 
 
WHEN THE LONG DAY IS DONE, 189 
 
 What tho' I may have fainted oft 
 
 Nor held right bravely on, 
 He will not count my weariness, 
 In pity for the dreariness, 
 
 When the long day is done. 
 
 I stand alone, no eager foot 
 
 To beat beside my own ; 
 I am content to wait till He 
 Calls thro' the evening o'er death's sea : 
 
 * Thy lonely day is done. 
 
 * Come home. My child, to Me and Mine, 
 
 For I will be thy sun ; 
 What tho' the shadows thickly fall, 
 Thou'lt hear their voices over all, 
 
 Altho' the day be done.' 
 
 I stand and wait with heart in thrall ;<r 
 The echoes from His throne 
 
 Come softly down the windy hills 
 
 In early morn, and quiet fills 
 My heart ere day is done. 
 
I90 WHEN THE LONG DAY IS DONE. 
 
 Rest Cometh soon and peace, she said ; 
 
 The echoes in her tone, 
 And in her eyes the love-light shone 
 With faint reflection from the Throne 
 
 Before the day was done. 
 
191 
 
 A ROBIN LEGEND. 
 
 Wailing, wailing went the spirits sadly, mourn- 
 fully and low, 
 Weeping, weeping went the Angels shudd'ring, 
 gazing far below. 
 Darkness lay on all the cursM city, 
 God and man seemed lost to sense of pity, 
 Christ the Lord hung on the forked Tree 
 Alone — alone, 
 And none made moan. 
 
 Bird and beast lay hidden, crouched and quiv'- 
 
 ring ; fur and feathers rough. 
 Sun and moon made darkness full of trembling; 
 He had said : Enough. 
 Blood-drops gathered on His forehead crown- 
 ing 
 Him in sacrificial gems, and drowning 
 
192 A ROBIN LEGEND. 
 
 His sad eyes from further sight ; yet see 
 He is alone, 
 And none makes moan. 
 
 Came a little winged one on swift pinions with 
 
 a cry of pain ; 
 Softly pressed against the gaping breast-wound, 
 once and yet again ; 
 Strove with beating heart and loving anguish 
 To close up the wound left sore to languish 
 Christ the Lord had borne so patientlie. 
 Poor bird alone, 
 For none made moan. 
 
 All the tiny feathers filled and dripped ; still 
 
 the sore wound ran. 
 Christ the Lord's sad head fell forwards faintly 
 the small bird to scan, 
 And a Voice said thro' the darkness dimly : 
 * Breast of red, poor bird, thou hast won 
 
 grimly ; 
 Blessed be thou of thy sweet charitic ; 
 Of all alone 
 Thou hast made moan. 
 
A ROBIN LEGEND. 193 
 
 * Keep for e'er the sign of man's redemption 
 
 pressed upon thy heart ; 
 It shall be a safeguard and a blessing setting 
 thee apart. 
 All who see and know thee, little winged one, 
 Shall with joy and love say : It was well done, 
 Tho' in vain to staunch His blee, 
 Dear bird, alone 
 When none made moan.' 
 
194 
 
 'IN THE hereafter: 
 
 I SAW a flower once on mountain height 
 And climbed to reach it, toiling day and night. 
 I threw behind me fortune, rank, and fame, 
 I cared not how the days fled, how they came ; 
 And ever shining on me from afar 
 Was its pale radiance like the morning star, 
 And ever ringing rarely day and night 
 Came vesper hymns that made all sorrow light. 
 
 I cared not that behind me pressing 
 
 Came the shadow grey of death ; 
 I cared not that my youth was passing 
 
 Quickly as a sobbing breath ; 
 I cared not, tho' my limbs were weary, 
 
 And my pulses, throbbing fast, 
 Proved my strength was ebbing swiftly, 
 
 So I reached that flower at last. 
 
'IN THE hereafter: 195 
 
 My hair, once bright and flashing golden, 
 
 Was fading now to ashen grey ; 
 My dress was rent, and worn, and olden, 
 
 Yet toiled I steadfast on my way. 
 My breath came faint 'mid gasping sobs, 
 
 And the death dews on my brow 
 Were a crown of anguish beading ; 
 
 But I cared for nothing now, 
 For ah ! nigh, at my very feet 
 
 And shining in the sun, 
 Stood the white bells of the mountain, 
 
 And the victory was won ! 
 
 I stretched my hands to gather them— 
 A Shadow passed me ; 
 Rang a wailing miserere — 
 Death had forestalled me. 
 
 Ah ! who may tell how lone I felt ; 
 
 He passM me again, 
 Bearing with him the silver bells 
 
 Ringing a dying strain. 
 Tho* I was faint. His arm I caught, 
 
 One shivering sigh I gave ; 
 o 2 
 
196 'IN THE hereafter: 
 
 He gazed on me all pityingly : 
 
 * They may but deck thy grave.' 
 He held the flowers to my lips : 
 
 ' Taste that thou dost not know, 
 The HOPE that lured thy lonely life ; 
 
 DELIGHT lives not below. 
 These bells are hope, the other flowers 
 
 Grow only in God's light ; 
 They shine before the em'rald Throne 
 
 And victory requite. 
 Yet hast thou had a mighty will, 
 
 Hast left all else behind ; 
 And for that will God blesseth thee : 
 
 Eyes ! be no longer blind.' 
 
 He laid the flowers on mine eyes ; 
 
 A sheen of light saw I — 
 Two flowers, star-like, ringing sweet 
 
 Before the Throne on high. 
 
 I laid me down all wearily, 
 My lone race run in vain ; 
 
 Ah ! what is worth the dying for 
 In this blank world of pain } 
 
'IN THE hereafter: 19; 
 
 What is so simply good and true 
 
 The rest may fall away ? 
 I know of nought — for doing thus 
 
 We miss the goal alway. 
 
198 
 
 FORGIVENESS. 
 
 Lift up thy head ! 
 
 If thou hast sinned, that lies between thy God 
 and thee, 
 
 Not thee and men. Lift up thy brow all fear- 
 lessly. 
 
 They will not dare thy look to scan too scorn- 
 fully. 
 
 I who have loved and love thee, cry : be brave, 
 be strong ! 
 
 Heed not the world's wild shout, or hunting 
 blare at wrong ; 
 
 Let them not drag thee down with muttered 
 taunt, and shout : 
 
 ' Now hold ! thou haltest ; fool ! hast fall'n anc 
 art found out ! ' 
 
FORGIVENESS. 199 
 
 Turn, gaze on them and speak, tho' with a 
 
 whitening lip : 
 ' Are ye so pure, aye sooth without or stain or 
 
 slip ? 
 Then pass me by at least ; God judges, and not 
 
 men. 
 'Tis only sin that knows the depth of sin ; thus 
 
 when 
 Ye mock at me, yourselves unwittingly con- 
 demn.' 
 I love thee, I forgive — and God forgives and 
 
 loves. 
 Take heart to rise again and fling the coarse 
 
 words by ; 
 Stamp down the deed and win thine own 
 
 esteem : 
 Thou shalt recover all in His Eternity. 
 
200 
 
 THE UNLOVED DEAD. 
 
 ' The whole creation groaneth and travaileth together in pain 
 until now.' 
 
 Wailing, wailing, lost and low, 
 Wailing, wailing over head. 
 Wailing with unfathomed woe — 
 Who are Ye that come and go ? 
 
 Then they sighed and mournful said : 
 
 * We are th' unloved forgotten Dead.* 
 
 Moving like a phantom arm 
 Bending down the trees o'erhead. 
 Till our souls in dim alarm 
 Murmur prayer and whisper charm — 
 Who are Ye that wrestle so ? 
 
 Then they wept aloud and said : 
 
 * We are th* unloved forgotten Dead.' 
 
THE UNLOVED DEAD. 201 
 
 Drifting in a wreathed mass 
 Of woven sound, and tumult spread, 
 As banners when great armies pass, 
 As flights of deer thro' fern and grass — 
 Who are Ye unseen that go ? 
 
 Then with mystery they said : 
 
 ' We are th' unloved forgotten Dead.' 
 
 When Night moves in splendour grave, 
 Darkness like a charger led 
 By her down the sky, a glaive 
 Of lights before her toss and wave — 
 What touched the stars that tremble so ? 
 Then they answered low and said : 
 
 * Our hands, th' unloved forgotten Dead.' 
 
 When the dawn in violet light 
 Springs out the East, sweet odours shed 
 From all awakening things requite 
 The day that comes in beauty dight — 
 What are those mists that mournful go } 
 Then did they weep amain and said : 
 
 * Tis we, th' unloved forgotten Dead.' 
 
202 THE UNLOVED DEAD. 
 
 When merry voices ring and cheer, 
 When happy words are loudly said — 
 What chills our hearts ? — a falling tear, 
 A dim presentiment of fear, 
 A vague remorse for those in woe. 
 
 Then did they moan and pleading said : 
 * Fear not th' unloved forgotten Dead.' 
 
 * But when the wind cries like a voice, 
 And when a presence fills the air ; 
 When driving mist upon the hills 
 Wreathes far away and leaves them bare ; 
 And when the waves far out at sea 
 Run like a sword with edge of flame ; 
 When feet seem echoing on the stair 
 And unknown whispers call a name ; 
 When lights are dim, and dusk, and fail, 
 When nought seems real, or good, or great, 
 When life seems blank and spirits quail. 
 And questions wax, and only Fate 
 Stands armed to grasp thy soul in Death, 
 And tempt thee, curse with yielding breath ;- 
 Ah ! then but pause,' they solemn said, 
 ' Pray for th' unloved forgotten Dead.' 
 
203 
 
 FLOWER SPIRITS. 
 
 ' Hush ! hush ! ' the Nightshade said ; 
 ' The dark is full of ill ; 
 The poison works its will, 
 And subtly doth instil 
 Despair — we are afraid ! ' 
 
 * Clasp close my leaves so they 
 More precious sweet may prove, 
 And bring thee thoughts of love 
 Thy heart and soul to move ' — 
 The woodruff's vesper-lay. 
 
 ' Stand up, sad heart ; be brave ; 
 Hold steadfast on thy way. 
 Nor light nor dark shall stay 
 The soul that God doth sway ' — 
 Sighed sorrel on a grave. 
 
204 FLOWER SPIRITS. 
 
 ' We are not fit to crown 
 This knoll, but in the rain 
 (Like gospel words in pain) 
 We scent the evening's wane ' — 
 Said violets bowing down. 
 
 ' Now glory to the Lord ! ' 
 Said lilies grand and white ; 
 
 * Be steadfast as the light — 
 Pure, true, unselfish, dight 
 With strength'ning of His word.' 
 
 * I straggle as I will 
 
 With many clasping sprays ; 
 I wander by all ways 
 And gather scanty praise. 
 And am the bramble still.' 
 
 * At everything I mock ! 
 My roots I firmly lock ; 
 
 I wedge them like a rock ; 
 I grow by stone and stock. 
 The never-dying dock.' 
 
FLOWER SPIRITS. 205 
 
 ' O sweet love ! loved in vain, 
 Faint heart with dole requite, 
 Fire-pointed, starry white 
 Stars of the summer night ' — 
 Wept jess'mine round the pane. 
 
 ' Ah ! dearest in thy death, 
 Slain ruthless — more to me 
 Than any life can be 
 Thro' all Eternity '— 
 
 Whispered the myrtle's breath. 
 
 * O ! true as to the sun 
 I turn as day goes on ; 
 Light love is lightly won 
 And lost again, and none 
 Will mourn for it I own ' — 
 
 The sunflower maketh moan. 
 
 * I blush, I blush and pale. 
 My thorns have wounded so 
 The gentle hand of woe 
 That laid me, weeping, low 
 Upon a death-pillow ' — 
 
 Thrilled out the rose's wail. 
 
2o6 FLOWER SPIRITS. 
 
 * Cling, cling thro' shade and light ; 
 Cling on thro' cold and heat ; 
 Cling where the living meet ; 
 Cling where the dying greet ' — 
 Shook ivy in the night. 
 
 ' Toss scarlet caps and gold 
 With merry eyes and bold ! 
 I've potions for the old ; 
 I've warm hues for the cold ' — 
 Shrilled poppies from their hold. 
 
 And the sweet pimpernel 
 Shut shyly up her bell : 
 ' I have no tale to tell ; 
 The weather goes not well, 
 A storm comes up the dell.' 
 
 The swordgrass and the rush, 
 The arrowheads and reeds, 
 Proud meadow-sweet, a bush 
 Of fairy-blossoms lush. 
 Shook with right cheery rings 
 Their phalanx crying : ' Weeds 
 
FLOWER SPIRITS. 207 
 
 We are so tall and fair ! 
 With tangles in our hair, 
 And butterflies for kings ! 
 And dancing merry things 
 To balance as with wings ! ' 
 
 And in the shade and cool 
 A pale forget-me-not, 
 Shrank down beside the pool 
 And wept : ' I meant it not 
 That all should be forgot/ 
 
 And with a cry of pain, 
 
 The passion-flowers tost 
 
 Their sad leaves dyed and crossed. 
 
 And shuddered out : * Lost ! lost ! 
 
 We lived our life in vain.' 
 
 And then all odours slept — 
 My spirit slumbered too, 
 Drenched ever thro' and thro' 
 In flower-enamoured dew ; 
 Till Dawn awoke and leapt 
 With light and airy tread 
 
2o8 FLOWER SPIRITS. 
 
 Upon each pearlM head ; 
 And all the flowers said : 
 * Hail ! hail ! the night has wept, 
 But thou wilt smile, and we 
 Shall bloom right beauteously ! 
 
209 
 
 THE ANGEL OF WILL, 
 
 A man's heart deviseth his way, but the Lord directeth 
 his steps. 
 
 I CRAVED a boon whilst still a child ; 
 I laid my will 'fore God with smiles. 
 God answered thro' the dawn of life : 
 ' Wait till the noontide thee beguiles.* 
 
 I waited — till the glittering day 
 Had added strength to my desire, 
 Then took my will in either hand, 
 And said : ' Now grant what I require ! 
 
 God answered : ' Wait — until the eve 
 Shall cool the fever of thy blood ; 
 r 
 
2IO THE ANGEL OF WILL. 
 
 And thou shalt see toil perfected, 
 
 And what thou knew'st not, understood.' 
 
 I laid my will with struggling tears ; 
 I said : ' 'tis well — -I will not grieve.' 
 I waited past the garish day ; 
 I waited into swooning eve. 
 
 I waited with my heart in thrall. 
 Till shadowy night had lost her way 
 In searching her own mystery — 
 Then said : * God ! answer now, I pray ! ' 
 
 God answered still : * The time will come.' 
 I sobbed : * My will is overborne ; 
 And, if I gain not 'fore the dawn, 
 I am of all souls most forlorn.' 
 
 I've waited all my life to see 
 The perfect crown of patient care ; 
 Now God doth answer, far away. 
 Still wait ! ' to all my patience rare. 
 
THE ANGEL OF WILL. 
 
 I trusted Him, and He doth mock 
 My fretted life lived all in vain. 
 O broken heart ! O wasted heart ! 
 Thy God forsakes thee in thy pain. 
 
 God's Angel cried thro' the dawn : 
 ' Awake ! arise ! Heav'n's gates unfurl ! ' 
 Then came a Spirit, grave and pale, 
 Adown the eastern heights of pearl. 
 
 With eyes as gems that pierce and glow, 
 With wingM feet and crowned brow, 
 With voice of thunder, soft and slow. 
 And Godhead smiting thro' and thro' ; 
 
 With robes of opal and of flame, 
 Thro' toil and suffering consecrate, 
 It stood 'mid all the seraphim 
 That gracious Spirit, grave, elate. 
 
 It stood with silence in its eyes 
 And noble longing, satisfied ; 
 Where Seraph-choirs around the throne 
 Sang : ' Glory to the Crucified I ' 
 
 211 
 
212 THE ANGEL OF WILL. 
 
 God's Angel spake : * Thou'rt answered — thus ! 
 There stands thy Will, — so strong and sweet 
 A Spirit close before the Throne 
 It took a lifetime to complete.' 
 
 I fell straight at the Angel's feet, — 
 My heart broke in one perfect beat. 
 
213 
 
 'FOLLOW THOU ME: 
 
 A Tyrolese Legend. 
 
 The day was dying and the snow lay deep, 
 As silently they wandered on their way, 
 The twelve Apostles and the blessed Lord, 
 Weary and faint ; and yet they dared not stay 
 
 Their footsteps, or but paused to gather breath, 
 Lest the grey night should overtake them swift 
 And hide all trace and track. But presently 
 Peter did stand and cried : ' I cannot lift 
 
 * My feet for pain — they're frozen in the snow ; 
 Lord ! Lord ! be merciful and help me on.' 
 The Lord made answer thro' the drifting hail, 
 ' Look, Peter, look, and bid thy pain begone.' 
 
214 'FOLLOW THOU ME: 
 
 Then Peter looked, and where his Lord had trod 
 His footsteps shone outlined in precious blood ; 
 The ice had cut His tender feet, yet He 
 Had said no word ; and Peter speechless stood. 
 
 But gently spake the Lord : * Now follow me ; 
 I will go slowly on and beat the snow 
 With both My feet ; thou treading where I trod 
 Wilt find the way seem short and softer so.' 
 
 Then Peter trod where'er those footsteps shone ; 
 The way seemed short and warm his feet 'gan 
 
 grow, 
 Until at length he weeping prayerful said, 
 ' My Lord ! my Lord ! oh let me forwards go ! 
 
 * I cannot bear to see that Thou dost bleed, 
 Dear Lord, for me — be merciful, forgive ! ' 
 But the Lord answered, and His voice was grave 
 And very faint and sad : ' I do but live 
 
 ' To bleed for all — thou, Peter, and my sheep 
 In many lands. The Shepherd goes before 
 
'FOLLOW THOU ME: 215 
 
 That, when the sheep come wand'ring tVards 
 
 their Home, 
 Thro' the great dark along the winding shore, 
 
 * They hear His voice glad calling them by 
 
 name ; 
 They see His footsteps where the path is rough ; 
 They know they tread the way that once He 
 
 trod, 
 And that thro' death He sighed : "It is enough."' 
 
2l6 
 
 'THE WIDOW'S son: 
 
 From out the city's distant hum 
 Was faintly heard the night-guard's drum, 
 And whistling down the empty street 
 Went whirl and flash of hail and sleet. 
 
 Beneath the roof a little room 
 Heard all and sank in deeper gloom ; 
 Where lay in silent suff'ring one 
 Sore weary — a poor widow's son. 
 
 And yet he was not quite alone. 
 
 Just on the threshold, grave and white, 
 Two stood, clothed on with pale samite, 
 And glory of the Fadeless Place 
 Soft shining in each awful face. 
 
 And yet he marked not anyone. 
 
'THE WIDOW'S son: 217 
 
 The mother knelt and wept : ' Dear Christ, 
 He suffers so. Oh ! had I wist 
 That this must be, I had not prayed 
 He might within mine arms be staid 
 
 When his dead father left me lone.' 
 
 The winds and waters drave and wept ; 
 The tallest Angel forwards stept : 
 His brows were wet, but not with rain ; 
 His eyes were dim with ruth and pain ; 
 
 He spake full low with piercing tone 
 
 * Poor mother, praying in the dark ; 
 Poor widow, with thy husband stark : 
 Cease prayer, but turn and look on Me ; 
 I come to save from misery.' 
 
 She only felt the more alone. 
 
 ' O mother, mother ! fold me tight, 
 Lord Jesu Christ is in the room ; 
 The blood is on His forehead white ; 
 He bears the marks of rood and doom ! ' 
 * My child ! we are alone, alone.' 
 
218 'THE WIDOW'S SON: 
 
 Then spake the other Angel : ' Lord ! 
 Canst not remit th' unspoken word ? 
 Her very soul goes out in prayer ; 
 Such anguish is too great to bear.' 
 
 ' I bore the sorrow all alone.' 
 
 The night grew wilder — fierce the rain 
 Hissed shudd'ring down the broken pane ; 
 The boy grew fainter in the morn 
 And moaned : * Dear mother, I am torn 
 
 With anguish eating to the bone.' 
 
 * O ! look at me, my child, my son ! ' 
 He murmured : ' Every little one 
 God said should come — I'm tired now. 
 Mother, the blood-drops on His brow 
 
 Are flowers of light, and one by one 
 
 They fall on me. He smiles, the pain 
 Is going away — His arms again 
 He twines around my aching head. 
 O mother ! would that I were dead, 
 
 And with Lord Jesu safe and gone ! ' 
 
'THE WIDOW'S son: 219 
 
 * O God ! what miracle is this ? 
 My child is smiling as in bliss ; 
 My child — no pain in his clear eyes, 
 But light that springs in Paradise. 
 
 My God ! I am alone — alone.' 
 
 ' I take thy child from sin and dole ; 
 See thou begrudge Me not his soul ; 
 I'll bear him gently on My breast 
 To his great Father's Home of rest. 
 
 Yet shalt thou never feel alone.' 
 
 Beneath the roof the little room 
 Heard nought, yet sank in deeper gloom 
 So still — from out it Three had gone — 
 Two bright Ones, and the widow's son. 
 And yet she did not feel alone. 
 
 Upon the city burst the morn, 
 And jubilant the watchman's horn 
 Blew all the shadows far away 
 As light arose to fuller day. 
 
220 
 
 AFTER THE VICTORY. 
 
 Ring ! ring ! mad bells, and crack the sky ; 
 What matter my dead heart and I ? 
 Thunder, great guns, across the river ; 
 What matter one voice mute for ever ? 
 
 Shout ! people, in the thronged street ; 
 Ye hide no echo of his feet. 
 Blaze up ! mad rockets, merrily ; 
 The tears within mine eyes are dry. 
 
 Rise, dawn, and glow to brighter day, 
 Tho* some few lives are laid away ; 
 Sing, little birds, and blossom, flowers, 
 Tho' many weep and wail for hours. 
 
AFTER THE VICTORY. 221 
 
 ' A victory ! a victory ! ' 
 
 The nation shouts rejoicingly. 
 
 Tho' eyes are dry and mute lips quiver, 
 
 The air doth rend and fill and shiver. 
 
 Glory to Christ the Prince of Peace ! 
 He makes all wars henceforth to cease. 
 Those who have died have fought and won, 
 And passed in glory to the Son ! 
 
 We who have lost speak never word. 
 Nor is our grieving even heard; 
 We would not spoil their joy to-day, 
 But pass on silently our way. 
 
 Ring ! ring ! mad bells, and crack the sky, 
 And shout, O nation ! joyfully ; 
 Thunder great guns across the river, 
 Their souls are safe for now and ever. 
 
222 
 
 A REQUITAL. 
 
 Go from me then ! and leave me, beggared, poor ; 
 No other soul shall queen it at my door. 
 Go from me, as the sunlight and the spring, 
 And every other bright and fleeting thing. 
 
 Go from me, Love ; thou leav'st me lonely, poor. 
 The world a-cold, the long road steep and dour. 
 How wise ! to rest thee 'neath a palace wall, 
 Where e'en the very raindrops gently fall. 
 
 Not colder can the snow-wreaths prove to me 
 Than those bright gems that crown thy treachery. 
 Not heavier than a shroud that silken dress 
 That clingingly adorns thy loveliness. 
 
A REQUITAL. 223 
 
 Thou hast what thou didst ask and ever crave : 
 I gave thee all I had — my soul — to save 
 Thee by its truth. What matters my life more ? 
 What matters ? echoes from the other shore. 
 
 Yet ah ! hast wrought a great wrong carelessly — 
 I die in doubt of all love-fealty. 
 Yet, for the love Thou once didst render me, 
 God's blessing rest upon Thy Life and Thee. 
 
 Goodbye, goodbye ! I've lived and had my day ; 
 I've lived and loved, and cast my soul away 
 In yielding thee what thou didst never crave. 
 Was that Thy fault } — I'll love Thee in the grave. 
 
224 
 
 THE RIDE OE THREE SOULS. 
 (To A. H. M.) 
 
 Three in One and One in Three — God in perfect Unity. 
 
 Three Souls rode forth a lonely way 
 To fight thro' Death by night and day, 
 And win true Life for now and aye. 
 
 * God's death,' said they, ' shall be our sign ; 
 
 Not ours but His, not mine but Thine ! ' 
 
 One Soul was dight 
 
 With helm and crest. 
 With sword on thigh and plate on breast ; 
 Well greaved he was, with lance in rest. 
 
 ' God's death,' said he, ' shall be my sign ; 
 
 Not ours but His, not mine but Thine.' 
 
'THE RIDE OF THREE SOULS: 225 
 
 The Next was clad 
 
 In sombre suit, 
 
 And bore for arms a well-stringed lute, 
 
 As tho' a choral test was moot. 
 
 ' God's death,' said he, * shall be my sign ; 
 
 Not ours but His, not mine but Thine.' 
 
 The Third rode past. 
 
 And held in hand 
 
 A light that shone o'er sea and land, 
 
 That made all clear to understand, 
 
 And false things true and small things grand. 
 
 ' God's death,' said he, * shall be my sign ; 
 
 Not ours but His, not mine but Thine.' 
 
 They met the foe 
 
 And in one day 
 
 All three arose to fight and stay 
 
 Each other in the sore affray, 
 
 Each in his own and strongest way. 
 
 ' God's death,' said they, * shall be our sign ; 
 
 Not ours but His, not mine but Thine.' 
 
 The first with lance 
 
 Smote straight and true, 
 
 And drove the avenger thro' and thro'. 
 Q 
 
226 'THE RIDE OF THREE SOULS : 
 
 The second stirred with passionate rue 
 The lute, so that remorseful grew 
 
 The conqueror. - 
 
 And last the third 
 Lift up the light and cried : ' Be heard, 
 O God of Peace and Truth, Thy word, 
 And seen Thy beauty — thus deterred 
 
 ^All ill shall fail 
 
 Grown faint in love, 
 And brought to ending but to prove 
 That strength, control, and truth remove 
 All obstacles 'fore God above ! ' 
 
 Then which — methought — 
 
 Hath won the fight ? 
 
 Was't Strength in armour keen bedight ? 
 
 Was't grave Control or kindly Light ? 
 ' Not one, but all the Three unite,' 
 God answered down the Infinite. 
 * God's death,' said they, ' shall be our sign. 
 
 And, like to His, their strength was trine.' 
 
227 
 
 'SHE MINDED NOT: 
 
 * I DO not mind, I do not mind,' 
 
 She said, and standing turned to stone; 
 They smiled slow doubting smiles, and went 
 And left her not to mind — alone, 
 
 * I do not mind, I do not mind,' 
 She said, and went about the same 
 To outward eyes, but something died 
 Quite slowly in her heart. It came, 
 
 That shadowy Thing, and held a hand 
 Before her eyes that dimmed and sank : 
 It pressed the bloom from cheek and lip ; 
 It smoothed the golden hair to dank. 
 
 Q2 
 
228 'SHE MINDED NOT: 
 
 It broke her heart by day and night, 
 That weirdly, wordless, nameless Past. 
 ' I do not mind, I do not mind,' 
 She said lip-softly to the last. 
 
 But when the cycling years had run, 
 And all the others had forgot, 
 The great All Father smiling said : 
 ' Poor child ! did'st think I heeded not ? 
 
 * Speak out, and sighing rest those lips 
 That quivered all these years so set ; 
 Lean, smitten heart, against my breast ; 
 Weep, eyes — for see, mine own are wet. 
 
 * Say now no more : I do not mind ; 
 God mindeth all eternally. 
 
 And in the great Hereafter, child. 
 Thou shalt be 'ware He minded thee.' 
 
229 
 
 'LOVE'S perfecting: 
 
 Take then my life, 
 To crown thy nobler living, 
 And so bring 
 A lustre on a poor and worthless thing. 
 
 Take then my love — 
 A passion kiss at best, 
 A spring-tide 
 Of quiv'ring earthly hope that leapt and died. 
 
 Take then my work, 
 And stamp it as thine own ; 
 One strong touch 
 Of thy pure hand shall gild it overmuch. 
 
230 'LOVE'S perfecting: 
 
 Take from my heart 
 Each high and gracious thought, 
 Each grand word, 
 That God and Thou alone hast ever heard ; 
 
 Then let me go, 
 And gaze but as a star in lonely night 
 Adown the hemispheres which Thou dost dight; 
 
 For none shall know 
 
 Whence came the throb of power that bore 
 
 thee on 
 
 Thy panting race when strength was well-nigh 
 
 gone — 
 
 (My Life below). 
 
 None shall divine 
 Whence came the tenderness that just won all, 
 When every art had failed and words 'gan pall — 
 
 (From Love of mine). 
 
 For none shall guess 
 The source of strength laid well to work upon. 
 And bear the strain of perfect completion — 
 
 (My first Success). 
 
'LOVE'S perfecting: 231 
 
 For none shall dream 
 Whence come the thoughts divine that e'er glow 
 
 thro' 
 Thy saddest moods and all Thy woes undo — 
 
 (My Heart supreme). 
 
232 
 
 * WINTER violets: 
 
 Two wan little violets, 
 
 Gathered to die — 
 So sweet in their giving, 
 
 So sad to her eye. 
 
 Dead moss and leaves round them, 
 Like hopes that are lost ; 
 
 She kissed them and kept them, 
 And loved them the most. 
 
 She stooped to speak kindly; 
 
 They said : * What is this .'* 
 A perfume from Heaven, 
 
 The Country we miss.' 
 
' WINTER violets: 233 
 
 She sang to the weary ; 
 
 They sighed : * O ! her breath 
 Is as rest to our longing — 
 
 The sweetness of Death.' 
 
 And day by day gentler 
 
 And sadder she grew; 
 Her face in its patience 
 
 Like God's loving drew. 
 
 Her pale lips grew paler ; 
 
 Her heart beat no more ; 
 Her waiting was ended ; 
 
 Her work here was o'er. 
 
 She laid her down softly ; 
 
 They folded her hands ; 
 They found in her bosom 
 
 (And one understands) 
 
 Two wan little violets. 
 
 And so let me die 
 So sweetly remembered, 
 
 So cherished to lie. 
 
234 
 
 WHEN THE KING SHALL COME. 
 
 Upon the mountains 
 In the early dawn, 
 Cold tho' the snow lie, 
 Crystals it shall seem 
 In the kindling gleam 
 As His feet pass by 
 
 When the King shall come. 
 
 All thro' the valleys 
 In the chasms drear, 
 Cold tho' the shades lie, 
 Into glorious sheen 
 Angels winged, I ween. 
 Rise in ecstasy 
 
 When the King doth come. 
 
WHEN THE KING SHALL COME, 235 
 
 In the heart bereft, 
 Stone-dead and run down, 
 Cold tho' all love lie ; 
 Yet in time to come 
 Christ shall call it home, 
 Loving then for aye. 
 
 When the King shall come. 
 
236 
 
 ' IN A VISION OF THE NIGHT: 
 
 In a crypt in the gloom 
 
 I stood, 
 And I heard a Te Deum of Death 
 Sung mournfully as with my breath. 
 Great sunflowers stood in division ; 
 Convolvuli twined in a vision. 
 Russet columbines under a hood 
 Wandered humbly away in a wood. 
 
 I did dream I did weep 
 
 Her dead. 
 Low the roof, and the pillars were strong, 
 And it seemed Angels had joined the song, 
 Standing up in their beauty complete. 
 Incense rose with the rhythmical beat 
 Of their white-pointed wings o'er my head. 
 
'IN A VISION OF THE NIGHT: 237 
 
 Fire-globes and a white flame 
 
 Were there ; 
 Golden disks of the great sunflowers, 
 And foam-bells of light were the showers 
 The convolvuli hung rare and white ; 
 And the columbines in russet dight 
 Were the badge for my sorrow to wear. 
 
 Then the flowers went mourning 
 
 For me, 
 As they leaned each one to the other, 
 And they whispered : * He tries to smother 
 His passionate grief, his sad crying — 
 Yet see how he grieved for her dying ! 
 As the Lord loveth, so loved he. 
 
 * O ! we feel, O ! we mark 
 
 His grief ; 
 Rising up, strike him dead, O sunflowers. 
 With your sceptres of gold, in these hours 
 Ere he faint in his woe, as they bring 
 Her safe home to her rest — for we sing : 
 " With the white dawn there cometh relief ! " ' 
 
238 'IN A VISION OF THE NIGHT: 
 
 Sunflowers and Lilies 
 
 Did say : 
 * Light we up with all glory and glow 
 The path of the beautiful dead — so ! 
 In rank, in rank ! while columbines strew, 
 And starry blossoms of manifold hue, 
 And buds build an arabesque way ! * 
 
 Then they ran and they lit. 
 
 She came. 
 The pall was of purple all silvered : 
 A great white Angel carried her head, 
 A little boy Angel her feet carried ; 
 All my heart went to her in a numb 
 And yearning despair that was dumb, 
 Till the angels called on her by name. 
 
 Then I knew and I held 
 
 For truth 
 She was not ; and O ! ne'er more could she 
 Kiss my lips into smiles perfectly, 
 Answering to my soul's speechless look ; 
 For the Lord loved her, so He took 
 Her away to His angels in ruth. 
 
'IN A VISION OF THE NIGHT: 239 
 
 Then up swept the flowers 
 
 And sang ; 
 And thundering out lordly and sweet 
 Went Te Deums from Spirits, and fleet 
 I swift ran with love-musical feet 
 The white pall-bearing angels to greet ; 
 And the dream echoes chimed and rang : 
 
 * Fare thee well, keep Thee strong, 
 
 My Heart ! 
 For I rest in God's calm Forever, 
 At peace from sad Earth's vain endeavour ; 
 And I yield it so best, tho' I leave 
 Thee to work, and it sometime bereave 
 Me of love : we shall ripen apart.' 
 
 In the crypt in the gloom 
 
 I stood — 
 With the columbines clasping wild arms ; 
 The convolvuli wove mystic charms ; 
 The sunflowers darkened and dreamed ; 
 Lily-petals with passion tears streamed. 
 O ! but I and my Love understood 
 That the meaning of God, it was —good. 
 
*IN PACE 
 
IN pace: 
 
 Vattene in pace, Alma beata e amata. 
 
 Out of the gloom-depths, far, far out at sea, 
 Out of the dreary waste and drenching foam, 
 
 A window opens 
 
 For mine eyes to see 
 Thy face long dead which gazeth t'wards thy 
 
 home. 
 All 'neath this weird and wild autumnal sky, 
 'Mid moaning wind and drifting hopeless sea, 
 My soul leaps up, my heart breaks in the cry : 
 
 O Loved ! O Lost ! 
 
 Return, return to me ! 
 
 R 2 
 
244 'IN pace: 
 
 O ! what on earth with all her glories spread, 
 
 ! what in Heaven with all her lights o'erhead, 
 Can bring to me thro' space that touch and tone 
 Which lacking my sad heart has turned to 
 
 stone ? 
 
 O dear, dear Face ! 
 And loving, wistful eyes ; 
 O sweet, sweet mouth ! 
 So full of solemn grace — 
 
 1 see ye ever in autumnal skies, 
 
 My happy Dead ! 
 But tho' the shadow of my wrecked life 
 Whirls up in mist and vanishes in foam, 
 'Tis better, tho' my heart is riven with strife, 
 For thou, my Darling, restest safe at home. 
 
IN pace: 245 
 
 II. 
 
 There used to come a glory on the forest and 
 
 the hill ; 
 There used to come a loving, subdued yet 
 
 conscious thrill 
 On all the things of nature, on all the things of 
 
 God, 
 When thou didst pass or touch them with low 
 
 and loving word. 
 A light spread thro' the forest, however dark 
 
 and deep ; 
 A pathway on the mountain, however rough and 
 
 steep ; 
 The rushing turbid river stilled with a quiv'ring 
 
 leap — 
 All things became more gentle as longing thee 
 
 to keep. 
 
246 'IN pace: 
 
 III. 
 
 The flower's tender beauty is waned since thou 
 
 art gone ; 
 The insect's glitt'ring winglets hang heavy as a 
 
 stone ; 
 A glory is lost to me in yonder sunset cloud ; 
 The mist's a thing of terror, upwreathin^ like a 
 
 shroud ; 
 The singing of the wild birds is shrill and harsh 
 
 and loud ; 
 The crests of mountain pine-trees are lower now 
 
 and bowed ; 
 The daylight is all garish ; the moon hath lost 
 
 her zone — 
 My heart, my mourning heart, lies shivered and 
 
 alone. 
 
IN pace: 247 
 
 IV. 
 
 Oh ! my heart is very weary, 
 Beating slowly to my tread, 
 As so often in the gloaming 
 I go wishing I were dead, 
 Lying by thee, my lost Darling, 
 Holding close thy small white hand. 
 Softly clinging to thy garments 
 In the shadow'd Border Land. 
 Dost thou miss me ? O ! I wonder — 
 Do I wish it ? Can I tell ? 
 But my yearning and my longing 
 No mere woven words can spell. 
 I am silent . . . and they whisper ; 
 I go singing ... and they blame ; 
 But thro' silence and thro' singing 
 Sighs the echo of thy name. 
 
248 'IN pace: 
 
 O ! for a touch at even, 
 O ! for a word at morn, 
 O ! for a footfall gentle 
 To thrill my heart forlorn. 
 Alas ! this never may be 
 Till Angelic voices call, 
 And I pass to thee in peace 
 Where God's love reigns over all. 
 
IN pace: 249 
 
 V. 
 
 Lo ! the night cometh, star to star doth shine, 
 And thou, lost Love, return'st to gaze on me ; 
 Thou dost not speak, but gazeth steadily 
 
 Till our two souls do meet and blend and twine 
 
 In our sad eyes like flames in fanned air, 
 And the wind, rising with a sobbing stir. 
 Is like thy pleading voice that doth aver : 
 
 ' Thro' life, thro' death, my Darling, true for e'er.' 
 
 And I ? I cannot speak ; I hold my breath, 
 And hold thee with mine eyes and with my 
 
 heart, 
 Tho' knowing well in life thou hast no part, 
 
 Till all my pulses leap in love with death. 
 
3 50 'IN pace: 
 
 And the day envious of my perfect love 
 
 Doth faint and swoon from out the opal sky, 
 And the stars tremble at mine agony, 
 
 And the night draw'th her veil o'er us above. 
 
 And well I know, thro' all my sorrow vast, 
 I do but dream, and that thou liest low. 
 Where never more my burning heart can go, 
 
 Nor ever reach thee in the shadowed past. 
 
 Yet still at night sometimes there comes to me 
 A look i' starlight as from out thine eyes ; 
 A voice i' wind that : ' Ah ! me — ' pleading 
 cries ; 
 * Think, Love, these are my deathless thoughts 
 of thee.' 
 
IN pace: 251 
 
 VI. 
 
 Sweet and low, sweet and low, 
 As only winds in summer blow ; 
 Faint and clear, faint and clear, 
 Thy gentle voice rings in mine ear. 
 
 Sweet and low, sweet and low : 
 
 * I love thee, beloved, and hold thee so. 
 
 With my lips to thine 
 
 I'll thee entwine 
 And keep thee for aye as mine, all mine.' 
 
 Faint and clear, faint and clear : 
 
 ' I love thee, beloved, so dear, so dear ; 
 
 Tho' the moon be high 
 
 In the ev'ning sky, 
 The night shall not part us, nor destiny.' 
 
'IN pace: 
 
 Sweet and low, sweet and low : 
 
 ' I love thee, beloved, yet needs must go. 
 
 Nay do not weep. 
 
 It is only sleep ; 
 We shall not be parted eternally.' 
 
 Faint and clear, faint and clear. 
 
 Thy dying voice rings in mine ear : 
 
 * I love thee, beloved ; for now and aye.' 
 
 Thy loving voice 
 
 Is in the sky, 
 
 It hymneth 
 
 And singeth : 
 
 * Good-bye ! good-bye ! ' 
 
 Yet ringeth it ne'er 
 
 So mournfully, 
 I'll love thee, beloved, for aye and aye. 
 
IN pace: 
 
 VII. 
 
 I LEANED me out into the lonely night 
 And wept and moaned and cried bitterly ; 
 The stars were shining in their purity, 
 And O ! I cried out against their light. 
 
 Shining calmly, 
 
 Shining wanly. 
 Their light to me was only cold and dead. 
 * Shining on the faces of mine Angels 
 So calm, so wan,' was what I weeping said. 
 Sudden thro' the night began a harping, 
 Sudden thro' the stars there went a call, 
 And their radiancy smote on my senses, 
 And their music held my heart in thrall ; 
 And I knew that they were calling to me. 
 And the stars lit glorious into flame. 
 
254 'IN pace: 
 
 And 'mid the harping low, and sweet, and gentle 
 An echo fell — the echo of my name : 
 *• Peace unto Thee, 
 Be comforted ! 
 
 We listen and we hear ; 
 We lose not e'en thy faintest sigh ; 
 
 We tremble at a tear. 
 
 We string upon our golden harps 
 
 Each tear that slowly falls, 
 
 Like pearls along a golden thread 
 
 Until the music palls. 
 When the chords are tightly strung 
 
 Our harps must useless lie, 
 
 And we alone be still and mute 
 
 'Mid Heaven's minstrelsy. 
 We cannot join the : Hail ! all hail ! 
 
 Nor swell the joyous cry 
 
 Of the Angels and the Sons of God 
 
 That rings unceasingly.' 
 Thro' the night. 
 Thro' the night 
 
 Came to me their plaining cry. 
 
 And I wrung my hands in woe 
 
 Weeping then right bitterly : 
 
'IN pace: 255 
 
 ' If that your harps are silent, 
 
 They are but like my heart ; 
 
 It too is dumb with anguish ; 
 
 Ye do but bear a part 
 
 Of my sorrow and my yearning ; 
 
 Yet shine ye evermore 
 
 On the faces of mine Angels ! 
 
 It is that I crave so sore.' 
 
 But they answered, 
 
 But they answered, 
 And the echo struck me deep : 
 If we harp not, we are silent ; 
 If we sing not, we must weep ; 
 And our tears in falling ever 
 Dim our lustre mournfully. 
 And thine Angels in the darkness 
 Know us not, and pass us by. 
 
 Then they tremble, 
 
 Then they tremble : 
 ' Stars ! ' they whisper, ' shine again, 
 For ye are the links that bind us 
 To that distant earthly plain. 
 When your light is soft and gentle 
 Then they see ye down below. 
 
256 'IN pace: 
 
 And we watch the faint reflection 
 On their faces wane and glow. 
 
 Straight it goeth, 
 
 Straight it falleth, 
 From regarding us in bHss ; 
 
 And it sinketh, 
 
 And it resteth 
 On them like an Angel's kiss. 
 We regard ye in high Heaven 
 Knowing well ye've looked upon 
 All we loved and worshipped inly — 
 Loved still tho' rest be won. 
 All of us together jointly 
 Gaze upon ye, and assuage 
 Our deep agonized longing, 
 To an instant dies an age. 
 And we whisper in our hymning : 
 " There is one thing comforts them, 
 For they see the stars as we do." 
 Do not therefore us condemn ! ' 
 Then I leaned me from my window, 
 Stretched mine arms into the night. 
 And I murmured never further, 
 But I bathed me in their light 
 
'IN pace: 257 
 
 And the harping, 
 
 And the harping, 
 Rose and swelled in majesty ; 
 And the glamour of the starlight 
 Bathed my Soul in ecstasy. 
 
 LONDON : PRINTED BY 
 
 SPOTTISWOODE AND CO., NEW-STREET SQUARE 
 
 AND PARLIAMENT STREET 
 

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