A modern hermit; a poem.
H. J. S. BELL



A MO
WI
LUME
40 M E
(Of we
LIBRAR
CAPE TOWN,



JUL 2 3 1963
A MODERN HERMIT.
A POEM
(of which Three Cantos are here given).
BY
H. J. S. BELL.
J. C. JUTA & CO.,
CAPE TOWN. | PORT ELIZABETH. | JOHANNESBURG.
STELLENBOSCH.
1899.





A MODERN HERMIT, ;
an
A POEM
(of which Three Cantos are here given).
BY
H. J. S. BELL.

JE
J. C. JUTA & CO.,
CAPE TOWN. | PORT ELIZABETH. | JOHANNESBURG.
STELLENBOSCH.
1899.


LONDON:
PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED,
STAMFORD STREET AND CHARING CROSS.


13477/38
PR
.4099
B11
M6
A MODERN HERMIT.
CANTO 1.
INTRODUCTORY.
1. There was a time when darkness quenched the
embers
Of intellect within me, and my being
Was wrapped in trance of which my soul remem-
bers
Since nothing; for I would observe not, seeing,
And hearing, knew not what I heard; the things
Of life were like cloud-shadows o'er me fleeing
And leaving no remembrance as their wings
Swept o'er the desert of my sterile brain.
My heart had suffered, and its tenderest strings
Were sundered. I knew nothing but my pain.
2. I know not how from this dull lethargy
I rose to see the vivid light again
And feel all Nature's pulses beat with me
United as they had been, and with men
To walk an equal, glorying in the power
B


2
A MODERN HERMIT. '
Of knowledge; but I well remember when
I woke, the day, and e'en the very hour.
.
'Twas a bright morning, and the sun's rays were
Kissing the lips of many an opening flower,
Drawing sweet scents to scatter in the air.
3. I was reclining on an old grey rock
That sloped upon the margin of a river,
Whose waters with mine image seemed to mock
Me, lifelike, there, except the transient shiver
Of an inconstant breeze which o'er it played,
Set all that mirror's surface in a quiver,
Distorting me most curiously. I stayed
To watch it, then, arising with a bound,
Feeling the life intense within me, strayed
Careless and joyous thro' the woodland round.
4. The life-blood leaped and tingled through my frame
With an exulting pulse that chased away
Despair and grief. The morning freshness came
Delicious to my senses, and my clay
Became responsive to the electric flow
Of vibrant ether. Nature was at play.
Birds sang their sweet songs, teaching me to know
Beauty and gladness thrilled the living mass
Of all, from tree-tops rustling to and fro
In the light breeze, to dewdrops on the grass.
5. At length upon the forest's edge I stood
Where it was broken by a level glade
Of half-a-dozen acres. From the wood
Emerging, I perceived there had been made


Å MODERN HERMIT.
3
A garden of the greater part, which showed
A skilful cultivation, well repaid
By that rich soil; and thro' the garden flowed
A rivulet which watered it, and when
The clouds withheld and bore away their load
Of rain, preserved the plants from famine then.
6. A rustic fence of twisted branches ran
Around the garden, making it secure.
It had within it everything that man
Could want for food to please a palate pure
Nor spoilt by rich decoctions to desire
A constant tickling, unappeased, to lure
An appetite. The gardener would require
No gentle creatures slaughtered to provide
His bloody feast, to breed the tiger's fire
In him, whose generous heart should be his pride.
7. For here abounded pleasant herbs and fruits,
And juicy gourds, the melon and its kin,
Succulent greens and tender toothsome roots
That nourish but inflame not; but within
The garden so well ordered there appeared
No human tenant, though the plants had been
But lately tended, and no cottage reared
Itself conspicuous; the tall silent trees
Girded the garden round, and there I heard
No sounds but Nature's borne upon the breeze.
8. I wondered much to see so fair a spot
Unguarded in the wilderness. I guessed
The gardener was some citizen whose lot
B2


4
A MODERN HERMIT.
Of constant toil amidst the hot streets pressed
So hardly on his spirits that he came
At times to seek a solitude and rest
In these wild woods, where business cares might
claim
No part of his attention, and resigned.
At intervals pursuit of wealth or fame
To till his garden and relax his mind.
1
9. If such he were, I marvelled yet that he
Amid the city's tumult should remain,
Nor rather choose entirely to be free
By living here, and from the garden gain
His food, though not luxurious, all his needs,
Whilst ample meditation for his brain
Such peaceful life affords; to him who heeds
The everlasting growth of things; yet vain
The attempt of man from man to live apart,
For pride and self-reliance break, like creeds,
Before the restless longings of the heart.
10. Our nature is gregarious. Since we were
But barbarous beasts that through the forests ran
Upon all fours, our bodies clothed with hair,
From our enormous enemies we began
For self-protection to combine, and while
We rose the habit grew. A shipwrecked man
Sea-cast upon some lovely desert isle
Rejoicing, dreams of slums where he was bred,
Rejects the luscious products of the soil,
And hungers for a humble crust of bread.


A MODERN HERMIT.
5
11. I beg your. pardon, reader, for the sin
Of this digression. Walking then around
The rustic fence that hemmed the garden in,
Between two zigzags of its length I found
A gate that swung on withes, and with a latch
Was fastened, whence a trodden pathway wound
Among the plants. I entered, and a patch
Of strawberries discovered, 'midst whose green
Thick mass of leaves clustered the fruit, whose match
For size and beauty I had never seen.
12. I stooping ate, but started as I rose
To hear a voice exclaim “You rascal there,
Eating my fruit! Well, what think you of those
Fine strawberries?” These words made me aware
The speaker was but jesting, but I tried
To make apology, but with an air
Of much good humour, smiling, he replied
“Take what you will. I do not claim the use
For self alone, in the immoral pride
Of ownership, of what I may produce.”
.
13. The stranger was a man of middle age,
Built in that frame whose sinewy strength defies
The weight of years, and of an aspect sage,
With a broad brow, and thoughtful dark grey eyes
In which I looked and guessed I found a friend,
For they were filled with looks so strong and wise
Yet tender, that I felt my heart extend
Its secret hopes towards him, and inspire
A sympathy which seemed to comprehend
And blend itself with my most keen desire.


6
A MODERN HERMIT,
14. His face was rugged, and a long grey beard
Fell on his chest, from which his full deep voice
Sonorous came, the voice of one who feared
No conscience roused indignant at the choice
Of evil against good. Our greetings passed
In heartiness and frankness. “I rejoice
To meet you,” said the Hermit, "for the last
Few months I've had no visitor to measure
My thoughts with, but I wish to break my fast
If you will join me, and we'll talk at leisure.”
15. I was not loth to meet this invitation
With thanks, because, whatever they may say
Poets have stomachs at whose instigation
They raven like the beasts. He led the way
Between two rows of peach trees on whose boughs
Pink blossoms had burst thickly, and some day
Would turn to yellow fruit; but for a house
I looked in vain, and soon with questions broke
The silence such as busy thought allows,
Which was between us. Curiously I spoke,
16. “Do you live here, for I confess I see
No sign of any habitation near ?
“My hut is hidden in the trees," said he,
“For nature was my architect, whose gear,
Though rough and ready, suited me as well
As marble might those potentates who rear
A palace out of human pain, to tell
The world that they are great. Nor yet like one
Of those old hermits shut up in a cell;
I love the fresh air and the brilliant sun."
>)


A MODERN HERMIT.
7
17. While he was speaking, passing through a wicket
We left the garden, and my guide exclaimed
"Now here we are," as we walked through the
thicket
One or two steps. “This snake, which I have
tamed,
Is my companion,” for a python crawled
To meet us there, The edifice was framed
Of four tall trees and matted boughs which walled
A space in, square and ample, and thick grass
Woven with rushes roofed it, and forestalled
The heaviest rain, which might not thro' it pass.
18. Window or door it had not, but one end
Was open, and admitted air and light.
For he, aware no racking ills attend,
Feared not the gentle breezes of the night
Which hovered round his slumbers to enchain
His brain with health and freshness; and the might
Of blustering winds came never; o'er the plain
A hurricane might ravage, but within
That forest a perpetual calm would reign
To murmurs dwindling its tempestuous din.
19. I stood in some astonishment to see
How plain a lodgment suited him whose nature
I thought of such refinement seemed, but he
Then said, “I know my house will scarcely mate
your
Fine mansions in the city, and as plain
My faring too, but it, I hope, will sate your
Best appetite." I hastened to explain,


8
A MODERN HERMIT.
“The simplest food my wishes most would suit
If it were wholesome," and in proof we twain
Did justice to a meal of porridge and of fruit.
20. Within the hut a floor of beaten earth
As hard as flags was covered everywhere
With mats of native manufacture, worth
But little in appearance, but for wear
None better spun in Europe's looms. Around
A bedstead stood a table and a chair,
And on one side an evidence I found
That he who kept from struggling men aloof
Scorned not man's wisdom. Rising from the ground
His bookshelves almost reached unto the roof.
21. It has been said a man's companions show
What a man is. This truth is of a kind
Like many proverbs, partly true. To know
A man's real nature you must know his mind.
Whose subtle workings can be fathomed best
Through his familiar books. Here I could find
Such books as Huxley's, Spencer's, whose sole quest
Was truth, and others; books whose wit unravels
The secrets of the rocks and stars were pressed
Between great poems, histories, and travels.
22. And starting from the volumes on the shelves
Our talk was widened, and our mutual faith
Quick born, grew rapidly; we found ourselves
Producing our most inward thoughts, as saith
The lover his spontaneous thought to her
Who holds his heart. Of life and toil and death


A MODERN HERMIT.
9
We mused and spoke, and speculated where
The whole would end, if ever; from its birth,
With daring minds conceiving times which were,
We traversed the life history of the earth.
23. The hermit by his marvellous speech appeared
Master of every science. Through the past
He showed the sequence of events, and peered
So wisely in the future when he cast
Imagination forward and unfurled
The progress of the present, that at last
I seemed to see a vision of the world
Long ages hence. Yet listening, I began
To wonder that this man, whose words were hurled
In eloquence before him, taught not man.
24. I asked him why he was content to dwell
In this wild forest, with his ample store
Of wisdom torpid, when he might so well
Impart his knowledge to a thousand more,
Preparing them to see the light which streams
To our horizon o'er the dim-lined shore
Where we shall stand in freedom, but which seems
So far off to the mass of men. He said
"Ah! You are young. I, too, have dreamed my
dreams
And found them with the garish daylight fled.”
25. “You over-rate my little stock of sense
And power to teach my fellow-men, and yet
As much as was within my competence
I have essayed to help them, and beget


10
À MODERN HERMİT.
Some hopes within their task-worn minds, that
they
May, looking forward from the toil and sweat,
See somewhere its conclusion, so they may
Be strengthened to continue." Then he told
His life to me, a story where the gay
And sorrowful were mixed in one deep mould.
26. He was his father's only child, 'whose birth
Had cost his mother's life, and as he grew
Became his father's idol, whose sole mirth
Was wakened by the boy, who, when he knew
That love, returned it trustfully. A man
Severe and stern, that father, but the two
Were comrades, and together they would scan
The books of learned men, whose wisdom poured
Rays of keen light upon them, such as can
Transform the mind, making vile creeds abhorred.
27. His boyhood passed amid the many charms
Of luxury, nor knew the wretchedness
Of poverty, which dulls the soul, yet arms
Some natures with a greater strength to press
Undaunted through this contest we call life.
All fighting all, and each with each, the less
Falling to make a vantage in the strife
For those who will stand on them. To the death
The battle rages. Selfishness is rife,
And virtue struggles vainly underneath.
28. Ere manhood's lines were printed on his brow
His father died, and left a large estate.


A MODERN HERMIT.
11
Vast wealth was his, but how to use it now
Perplexed the youth, whose heart refused to sate
His pampered wishes while the multitude
Of men and women labour to create
Bare sustenance, and children sob for food.
Large gifts he made, but while he gave relief,
Such bounty, he too plainly understood,
Diminished not the source of human grief.
29. He travelled over the wide earth, and found
Where'er he went that Poverty and Crime
And desolating tyranny had bound
Our race in misery. Through written time
He searched the records studiously to glean
Why most were sunk in an abysmal slime
And some enthroned, that wealth had ever been
Purchased with blood and pain. He heard the
groan
Of generations, and when he had seen
The truth, he hated Gold, and loathed his own.
30. Was there no remedy ? His aching brain
Found him no answer, and a burden lay
Upon his spirit, crushing it with pain
Whose waking torment turned his young hair grey.
At length, determined, he resigned his home,
And when his wealth he had devised away
To hospitals, he left the world to come
And make himself a habitation here
Some three years since, nor yet had wished to roam
With men again, and share their restlessness and
fear.


12
A MODERN HERMIT.
31. As voyagers, who sail along a coast
Unlightened, save by the dim rays of stars,
Detect a headland here and there while most
Is shadowy and unknown; long sandy bars
Stretch through the waves, and rocks are piled on
shore
By them unseen. Or as we look at Mars
Thro' some fine telescope and see no more
Than outlines of its continents and seas,
So have I passed the hermit's history o’er,
And left unmarked its many miseries.
32. The retrospection of his life had brought
A reverie upon him ; he had been
So long unstirred. Now, glancing out, I caught
,
A glimmer of the setting sun between
The encircling trees that warned me to depart.
Yet loth to go, with sense of sorrow keen
I rose and spoke. The hermit, with a start,
Shook off the mood that wrapt him.
go?
“ Is it so late?” Then saw the slant rays dart
Crimson
upon
the leaves and knew the sun was low.
Must you
33. We went together, traversing the wood,
And reached the meadow as the sun's bright sphere
Touched the horizon with its rim, and stood
A moment there, dilating as it were,
Then swiftly sank, and soon the darkening plain
Rang with the crickets. “'Tis delightful here,”
Said my companion; "and when we attain


A MODERN HERMIT.
13
That hilltop you will see that there will be
A splendid landscape looking back, and gain
From the same ridge a fine view of the sea."
34. Yes; when we trod the summit of the hill
The sea rose to us finely, to the shore
Rolling great waves. What swift emotions thrill
The breasts of those long absent who once more
Look on the sea! Enraptured must those stand
For the first time beholding, who before
Had never seen the sea. It is so grand!
Its very calmness seems a power. The sleep,
Which howsoever seeming fast and bland,
But veils the passions of the awakened deep.
35. Upon that hill we parted, while the sea
Grew dark beneath the fading sunset dyes,
Whose last pale colour vanished rapidly
When night's grey shadow overran the skies.
And through the twilight vacancy there shone
The light of stars, whose greatness multiplies
This globe of earth a thousandfold, the sun
Ev'n equals not their glory. It was then
Under the stars we parted. Ere 'twas done
I promised him to visit oft again.
36. Now, Reader, my long introduction's over.
'Tis dull, but I have managed to achieve
My purpose, and if you can now discover
That I have hacked the language, give you leave
To pelt me thick with mud. My poem will be
More lively now, for I shall interweave


14
A MODERN HERMIT.
Man's life and scenes from Nature. You'll agree,
Especially when I picture storms of thunder
And tempests and the raging of the sea,
That I can make your quick hearts leap with
wonder.
37. And as a wagoner, riding on his wain
Now mounts a hill, now thro' a valley deep,
Guideth his team, then o'er the level plain
Jogs onward though the team may fall asleep,
So shall my verse, as often varied, go
Where'er its subject leads. Perchance to creep
Along prose levels, and anon to grow
Triumphant, rising; and as landscapes round
That traveller will their daedal aspects show,
So here, perchance, some beauties may be found.
END OF CANTO I.


A MODERN HERMIT.
15
CANTO II.
1. The hermit had awakened in my mind
A lively interest, and amid the clash
Of life in a great city where mankind
Worked, idled, loved, and suffered, struggling, rash,
Impetuous and blind; what they pursued
Involving their undoing or the crash
Of others' hopes, in that unyielding feud
Of rivals called SOCIETY, where I
Was one whose tasks were hopelessly renewed,
To that lone man my thoughts would often fly.
2. And so the days completed each their span
Of irksomeness until the day of rest,
Religion's only benefit to man-
This respite to the weary-sole bequest
For which our own immediate sons shall be
Still thankful, when its mysteries are confessed,
E'en by the priests of its hypocrisy,
Delusions born of Ignorance and Fear
Grown in Dark Ages-Earth's great upas tree
Now lightning struck and withering, bleak and
drear.


16
A MODERN HERMIT.
3. At early morn, while yet the slumbering city
Lay buried in its silent deep repose,
Its week-made pall upon it, murk and gritty,
Still floating, I departed, ere the glows
Of sun-rise came, to seek my friend's retreat.
Upon the way revolving thoughts that rose
Like vapours in the atmosphere, which meet,
Part, and dissolve, or cumulate to form
Thick heavy clouds, which ride the tempest fleet,
And riven with firebolts break in thunderstorm.
4. Some gentle thoughts I had, then swift and fierce,
Came others, rousing storm-like agitation
Within me, bursting angrily in tears,
Even while sweet nature stirred my admiration
With soft ideas, in ever-widening sweep
My thoughts flew forth to see the devastation
Man wrought on man, until I longed to leap
With passionate words amidst humanity,
And speak and do, I knew not what, but weep,
So hopeless seemed the mighty task to me.
5. But now the sụn uprising threw a lustre
So glorious around me that my thoughts
Were stilled in rapture, for on every cluster
Of lovely flowers that in a thousand sorts
Hung o'er the pathway, and with fragrance drew
The golden bees to practise their sweet sports
O’er nectarous feasts, loud humming as they flew
From flower to flower, and on each leaf and where
Grew carpets of soft grass, bright globes of dew
Sparkled and spread the rainbow colours there.


A MODERN HERMIT.
17
6. And o'er the scene more distant, where the glory
Of sunrise swept along the smiling sea,
A loveliness wherein the long sad story-
The cries and strugglings of humanity
Might be forgotten for a while; and such
Was that outburst of beauty upon me,
And as dark dreams are banished at the touch
Of an awakening hand, so for a time
I lost the saddening knowledge of how much
We suffer still, and mused o'er the sublime.
7. Some time I paused in blissful idleness,
My senses steeped in that entrancing view;
With more such moments life were surely less
Unhappy, but how transient and how few
These pleasures are for many who could feel
No less a rapture than their betters do.
Their betters? O sarcastic phrase! to steal
Honour from those who labour, and bestow
The meed on drones. Posterity will deal
Its justice late, but men the truth will know.
8. Resuming then the onward path, my feet
With steady paces made the journey's end.
The hermit saw, and hasted out to meet
With gladsome looks my coming. Never friend
Encountered one long absent with more joy.
“Welcome,” he cried, "you come, I hope, to spend
The day with me, so that we can employ
Such converse as will cheer and strengthen you."
I answered, smiling, “Then we must destroy
In words at least all ills and build Utopias new."
6
с


18
A MODERN HERMIT.
9. And now with slow and sinuous motion came
The Hermit's python, swaying to and fro
His lifted head, as if he wished to claim
Renewal of acquaintanceship, and lo!
He knew my voice, and answered to its call
With quickened course until he lay below
My well-pleased eyes. Then slowly winding all
His gentle folds around my limbs he reared
His head above me. I, yet calm withal,
Trusted the snake, nor violence from him feared.
10. “Come," said the Hermit, "you must want à rest
After your walk. Don't let that tiresome snake
Burden you so."
And sure I soon confessed
He was no joke, for I began to ache
Ere I had borne him long. “Here, down, sir, down,”
The hermit cried, "How dare you, rascal, make
So free, when visitors come from the town
To see us," and the obedient snake unwound
His shining coils, and resting now his crown
Low in the dust lay prone upon the ground.
11. But passing on, he followed, whilst we walked
Through all the garden. Plants on every side
Grew up rejoicingly, for none were baulked
Of their expansion due by weeds. With pride
The Hermit viewed his labour's fruits, and showed
Their various kinds. “Are there who would deride
The gardener's joy, who from his blest abode
In verdant vales looks o'er the smiling fields
Whereon his toil was cheerfully bestowed,
And which shall soou a plenteous produce yield ?”


A MODERN HERMIT.
19
12. The mealie with its feathery tops on high,
The trailing pumpkin with its golden fruit,
Massive and round on slender stalks, which lie
Along the ground, the fragile peas which shoot
Their tendrils forth to seek support, the bean
Whose sturdy stem, a little tree, with root
Firm in the soil, sustains the pods which lean
Full-bellied down. In many a different guise
The plots display their bounty. Such the scene
Where joyful roved the happy Hermit's eyes.
13. "Now come," the Solitary said, "and see
My cows and calves. When you were here before
We were so busy talking earnestly
That I forgot to mention them. There's more
Companionship in animals than some
Would dream of, and although I might deplore
My absence from the spirit-stirring hum
Which spurs men on in congregated masses,
Yet love is here, for cows evince, though dumb,
A friendship that some human love surpasses."
14. Two gentle beasts that pastured in the glade
Came at his call, and while he drew a store
Of milky sweetness forth, stood sagely staid
With half-shut eyes, and slowly turning o'er
The exhaustless cud. Their little calves frisked by
And gazed on me with curious eyes, which bore
So much resemblance to our own that I
Imagined thence their speaking beam declares
In that strong likeness to the human eye
Our origin is from a germ like theirs,
C 2


20
A MODERN HERMIT.
15. These common tasks and homely talk were not
Of long endurance, you may well believe.
For soon returning to the Hermit's cot,
On themes as varied as the mind may weave
Our fancies fed. Then with a serious mien
My friend looked up and said, “You seem to grieve
Over some secret sorrow, which has been
Too constant for forgetfulness, and rears
Its ugly shadow, rising up between
All hopeful thoughts with sad and gloomy fears."
16. “Yes," I replied, "for I am sick at heart
Each day to read, for the newspapers teem
With tales of woe unvarnished by the smart
And flippant style of journalists who deem
Their little minds omniscient; when I read
This ceaseless tale of rapine, life would seem
A vain perpetual warfare, where may feed
Those vultures who disdain no corpse, priests, kings,
And those worse tyrants, men whose God and creed
Are ‘Gold! Gold ! Gold! Worship the Lord of things.'
17. “When I consider all the Earth's vast life,
Its continents where nations leap to war
And thousands die, and all the lust and strife
Of seething cities, boil spots where we pour
The poisons of Earth's life-blood which obtains
No curative, and bursts out evermore
Cankered and foul in plagues. One monarch reigns
Above the petty kings. Men live in fear,
For Capital strides o'er the peopled plain,
Trampling them down even while they revere,


A MODERN HERMIT.
21
18. “The workers by whose industry he lives
And grows and fattens with an iron hand
Are held in thraldom, slaves to whom he gives
What pittance their necessities demand,
And calls it wages. Those who make the most
Enjoy the least; all pleasures from them banned.
Mercy is dead, and Justice but a ghost
Dreamed of by night when men forget their sorrow
In fancies of the unfettered brain, which lost
In Hope's far realms knows not the dread to-
morrow.
19. "With buoyant hearts they wake, and, lo! their
souls
Sink back dismayed into their leaden shells,
More widely parted than celestial poles
Are they and happiness, and fear foretells
Too truly what the day will be for them.
What wonder, then, if Indignation swells
Their suffering breasts, whom rigorous tasks con-
demn
To a long life of labour, when they see
That banquets feast the rich, whose garments hem
Of costly cloth by them would sullied be.
20. “I live in vain, and o'er the stormy world
Look helplessly, yet fain would right the wrong
Knowing the past, whose mighty waves have curled
In revolution o'er mankind so strong.
It seemed old customs must be shaken till
They topple to a fall with all the throng
Of little fools that cling as limpets will


22
A MODERN HERMIT.
To hoary rocks. Yet they were spent in vain
Leaving no trace but foam, and we are still
But brutes that rule the lesser brutes with brain.
21. “I live in vain, for still my voice must be
A voice unanswered in the wilderness,
Nor silence only do I meet, but see
The very men whose wrongs I would redress
Laugh me to scorn and call me fool. I own
That it is very bitter to confess
One's life a failure, feeling it has gone
In thankless efforts. Would that I had been
Some wild barbarian who had never known
One thought beyond the chase and battle scene.”
22. “My friend," the hermit said, "my sympathy
Is with you, for I felt and feel the same.
Be not downcast, however, for I see
A time not distant when the world will aim
At nobler things than these which bring it low,
A proper subject for the scorn and shame
Of wisdom; though its progress may be slow
It is perpetual.” So the hermit sought
To ease my sadness, and with steady flow
Fell in one current all the stream of thought.
23. But mostly he, whose knowledge wide of men
And greater insight, gave his words a power,
Spake, and I listened, asking now and then
Some questions at necessity to dower
His wisdom with a deeper force for me.
And in such sort we passed from hour to hour


A MODERN HERMIT.
23
With rapid speech, but sometimes paused to see
A
passage
in some volume old or new.
To give but half would tax my memory
Beyond its range, but thus his utterance flew.
24. “The world,” he said, "might well excite the rage
Of thoughtful men, while statutes unrepealed
Stamped with the iron of a cruel age
Still bar the path of justice, yet to yield
To powerless wrath were neither well nor wise.
As in that tale of the suspended shield
We must not judge too rashly for all eyes;
One sees the golden, one the silver flame,
Another but the narrow edge espies,
Each from his standpoint; few can see the same.
25. “'Tis a strange sense of justice often stirs
Among the mass, for I have sometimes seen
A drama played in crowded theatres,
And I have marked the audience wrapped in keen
Expectance of the villain's overthrow,
When horrors climax in the last grim scene,
And then the throng exulting all aglow
With righteous virtue, when he meets his doom
Shout like some Arab o'er a prostrate foe
Buried beneath the desert's fierce simoom.
26. "Such is their Justice. Like that fiery wind,
It seeks a VICTIM with relentless hate;
And they rejoice-for THEY have never sinned-
To see poor Guilt receive its awful fate.


24
A MODERN HERMIT.
When Retribution lifts its thunder peal,
Sweet pity's voice is only heard too late ;
Nor 'mid the clamour can its whisper steal
One heart to plead for mercy. It is strange
To see mankind, with natures formed to feel,
Still worship gods whose justice is revenge.
27. “Not man alone, in whom the lust of life
Has fostered all his selfishness. Among
All living things this instinct is as rife,
And sometimes far more brutal. All the strong
Prey on the weak. Perhaps we may have been
Once like the sponge, all stomach. Now the song
Raised by some birds within a thicket's screen
Can lift us from the depths of sorrowing,
Forgetting while their music floods the scene
A thousand insects die that they may sing.
28. “You are a poet, but you have confessed
You cannot look on Nature with an eye,
Rejoicing in its beauty, like the rest
Of those who find an utterance for the cry
Rising from their deep feelings, joy or pain,
In words of rhythmic motion. You would fly
Perhaps to an extreme, and weep in vain
O'er Nature's cruelty and strife, and say
Each life enjoyed must mean another slain-
To-morrow dies the reveller of to-day.
29.
“The spider weaves with finest threads his net,
The masterpiece of insect workmanship,


A MODERN HERMIT.
25
Whose viscous web a silken snare is set,
Wherein poor flies in luckless flight may slip
To feed their greedy captor, who is rapt
E'en from his feast by the swift swooping grip
Of a bright bird, whose wings have scarcely
flapped
In upward course, when with the lightning's whizz
The falcon smites him. Who will then adapt
Theories of love to those voracities?
30.
And yet from instincts fiercer far than these
Have grown all feelings, and the thoughts of men:
From sexual violence, Love, rose by degrees :
And Industry from Slaughter: from a clan
Whose only link was lust of blood and spoil,
An Empire grows and fosters Art: to scan
This evolution, 'tis an endless coil
Of interwoven circumstance, where each
Small act made its impression, were a toil,
Like counting sands upon the waste sea beach.
31. “But they are still evolving, inch by inch,
The coil unwinds, and yet how slowly turn
The silent cogs of that eternal winch,
Whose drum we call the future ! Could we learn
Its measurements, to guess what is concealed
In far-off epochs, then we might discern
Our barbarous nature, as it were, revealed
In contrast with perfection. Was the Stone
More savage than this iron age ? We wield
An arm that slaughters thousands for their one.


26
A MODERN HERMIT.
32. “Let us suspend our judgment. Every stage
Of our progression from the grubs to gods
Marks some advancement on the former age
Tho' vexed and torn we doubt it, for it plods
A tedious course that wearies hope. The goal
As distant seems as though we piled up sods
To reach the stars, or as the little mole
Whose eye can scarce distinguish light, might hope
To burrow thro' this planet. Yet man's soul
Sees less than he, more blindly must we grope.
33.
“The thoughtless boast of common sophistry
Is civilization. 'Tis a sounding word
Which means but little, and can never be
While war exists, and while the vaster herd
Of humankind are tasked into machines,
Refinement truly that can gaze unstirred
By aught save pride on ghastly battle-scenes
And read without a choking at the heart
The records of earth's daily round, of queens
And starving women, squalor, gaols, and art.
34. “Refined indifference. How the coming race
Of an immediate future as I trust
Will marvel at our selfishness. We face
These evils with a callous eye, or thrust
The knowledge from us, fearing it should mar
Our own enjoyment, as it ought and must.
Till social life no longer bears the bar
Of blazoned vice upon its tinsel shield
Worn by false heralds who proclaim afar
Its specious glories, all its flaws concealed.


A MODERN HERMIT.
27
35. “This, then, will seem incredible, but what phrase
Will paint the height of their astonishment
When they look back from those serener days
Of even justice o'er the wide extent
Of our iniquity, where one obtains
The makings of a thousand, by consent
Of the poor slaves scarce conscious of the chains
That they were born with, and which they are taught
In childhood's all-receptive years, when brains
Are moulded, are their God-apportioned lot.
36. "
• What is our civilization ? If there came
An angel from some planet in the void.
Whose savage state was once indeed the same
(But long past by) and saw mankind destroyed
By war and pestilence. War, the birth of hate
And jealousy, and pestilence, the bride
Of human vice and filthiness, its mate
More hideous now than in the olden times
Of rarer man. Say, would he deem our state
Was civilized, or sigh to see our crimes ?
37. “A mighty maze! but not without a plan,
Says an old poet. True, a mighty maze !
But if 'tis planned it passes any man
To understand it. When we watch each phase
Of life, the maze grows greater, and its scheme
More secret still. A light that has no rays
To guide us to it. Phantoms of a dream
Forgotten when the slumber ceased would be
Less doubtful, for we go from each extreme
Of sense to folly, mirth to misery.


28
A MODERN HERMIT.
38. “With wondrous skill we catch the feeble rays
Shed by some star our eyes shall never see,
Resolve its gases, say how much it weighs,
And guess its age and its intensity
Of fierce combustion, and when comets burn
Across our skies at lightning speed, then flee
So far through space that they shall not return
For centuries, yet we can follow still
Their viewless paths with prophecy, and learn
How strong and marvellous is the Human Will.
39. “But while this seems so glorious, turn thine eyes
From their dominion of those distant things,
And view on Earth what nearest to thee lies.
One of those slaves whom sordid lucre wrings
Till generations so degraded grow
That o'er their minds ambition rarely flings
Fallacious hopes to brighten their fixed woe:
Mark then that brute who bears a human face
And sink with shame, for surely thou shalt know
How weak and wretched is the Human Race.
40. “ Let fancy, with an immaterial wing,
That scorns the force of gravitation, bear
Thy soul, awhile uplifted from this ring—
Our prison of the crust of earth, and there
Imagine thou cans't motionless survey
The world revolving under thee, a fair,
But saddening prospect. Thine impartial sway
Looks over empires of a thousand miles
In one brief hour; great cities pass away
Beneath thy gaze; lakes gleam like transient smiles.


A MODERN HERMIT.
29
41. “A million fields reflect the vivid light,
A thousand cities belch their vapours foul.
Nature and Science: in thy very sight
Providing man's subsistence; yet the howl
Of famine swells to thine attentive ear.
Earth's face is darkened by the grimy cowl
Of factory smoke; those restless oceans bear
A host of ships that carry to and fro
The products of Antipodes; 'tis there
That thou may'st learn Earth's marvellous overflow.
42. “There thou hast seen Earth's riches, now descend,
Let fact with heavy leaden foot draw down
Thy soul from its romantic flight, and bend
Thy steps among the by-ways of a town
Where Industry is cooped in narrow lanes,
The Philanthropic lady lifts her gown
When she, good dame, adventures there, lest stains
Should soil its costly broidery, the while
Her heart is filled with deep disgust, yet feigns
The loving word and sympathetic smile.
43. “Approach this den! It is a labourer's home,
And on its threshold sits a little child,
Pinch-faced and wan, whose eyes can never roam
Beyond those streets by sordid man defiled.
Earth's face is bright with beauty, but for him
No flowers bloom, the scenes of Nature's wild
Exultant freedom are but names of dim
And strangest meaning. Think now what must be
His notion of the woodland and the stream,
The waterfall, the mountain, and the sea.


30
À MODERN HERMIT.
44. “ Within the mother nurses without rest
A puny babe that frets incessantly
And draws fresh woe from her fermented breast,
Ill-nourished child of Poverty, to be
More wretched than its wretched nurse, the blight
Falls heaviest when the plant is young, the tree
Must bear the sapling's weakness. Let this sight
Rise to thine eyes whene'er thou would’st rejoice
O’er Art and Science, which do not requite
The lot of hardships borne without a choice.
45. “There wrapped in rags, all slatternly and vile
They pass their lives in utter sordidness,
Without a hope its meanness to beguile,
Sunk in the daily torpor of distress
Their minds are stagnant, what else can they be?
With evening, sullen with the long excess
Of labour, comes the man. No sound of glee
Gives welcome to his squalid home, whose bare
And ugly walls reflect the misery
That grinds these wretches with unceasing care.
46. “The cheerless food, unwholesome, scant, and coarse,
Which taste disdains, but hunger must devour,
Whereto contentment lends that wondrous sauce
Which namby-pamby poets praise, whose hour
Of sovereign want has never made them know
The needs they slight in wantonness of power.
The mills that grind the hapless poor are slow,
But very sure. They perish in the slum
Who build the palace which their toils bestow
On idlers, but they suffer and are dumb.


A MODERN HERMIT.
31
«
47. “In ancient days the nations made men slaves,
And called them slaves, but in these days of fraud
We gull them into bondage to their graves,
Mocked with the names of freedom and a God
Whose goodness weighs their present pangs for gain
Meanwhile they toil till deadened to a clod
Their very thoughts are not their own, but vain
And senseless repetitions, which they cry
But from the cries of others. They obtain
No pleasures but the pleasures of the sty.
48. “And children too, those children of the free,
For so they call them; what a life is theirs,
What tender limbs are burdened heavily,
Too weak for burdens, are they not the heirs
Of centuries of serfdom which have worn
Their fathers to life's limits ? No fresh airs
From seaside, and the mountain peak have borne
Their essences to freshen the pale fires
Of life, which smoulder through a race forlorn,
Whose every sons are weaker than their sires.
49. “Humanity! How much we speak in vain,
Our best of language springs from shallowness
We think of kindness when we say humane,
But why? Is not man's kindness often less
Than brutes to brutes ? While yet one child
remains
With mind unformed and body stunted. Yes!
While there is one whose unremitted pains
Damn its young life which years cannot reclaim


32
A MODERN HERMIT.
From weary toil which no kind thought restrains
That child's wrecked life must put that boast to
shame.
50. “Come once again through these unwholesome streets
Where nasty minglings sicken every sense,
How different from the flowery fields, where bleats
The little lamb in all the joy intense
Of young existence. Here a factory stands.
Grim prison ! where the iron elements
Of great machines, seem with relentless bands
Of noiseless power, to harden in the veins
Of infants, where not only their small hands
Are sullied, but alas, their little brains.
51. “Knowest thou the joys of childhood and the joy
Which they confer on those who love them, all
The natural sweetness which no arts destroy
With affectation. When my thoughts forestall
The happiness which I must ever know
With brightsome children; faces which recall
The angels whom my boyish fancy's flow
Loved to imagine; how those thoughts are chilled
To guess at what these others undergo,
Whose lives with such a dreary round are filled.
52. “Hark! that loud whistle, 'tis a joyful sound
To thousands of expectant little ears,
Once in the day their little hearts rebound,
For they are free, such freedom as is theirs,
Free in their weariness to play, and free
To learn such vices that their future years


A MODERN HERMIT.
33
Shall be, though shortened, long in misery.
Look, while they pass those portals, on each face,
Pale and cheek-sunken, thou may'st swiftly see
The stamp of sins which are not their disgrace;
53. “But are our shame, for we have wrecked those lives
That we may live in comfort and be well
In selfishness, we care not who survives,
So that we are not bruised. 'Tis with an ell
We mete ourselves, and grudge them the bare inch;
Our lives are poor, yet poorer those who dwell
In wretchedness, from which our souls would flinch
Even to fancy it were ours.
Could fancy life which has no rays to tinge
Its clouds with rainbows, wherein hope may be.
If we
54.
Some madness surely overrides our sense,
We would not in the knowledge of it mar
The promise of our children's innocence
To grow to virtue, and their minds debar
From a ripe vigour, yet 'tis what we do.
What can we hope for as we look afar
O'er the long future, if we may but view
Such generations. We would laugh to scorn
The gardener who lopped seedlings while they grew,
And cherished tares amid the springing corn.
55. “Such is the law of Nature, so they cry
Through all life-history is one fact impressed,
Nature's great law! would ye improve it ? Try!
Survival of the fittest is the best.
D


3+
A MODERN HERMIT.
Let us fight on! so shall the race grow pure,
And out of evil good, and from the zest
Of strife enjoyed grow mercy, as a sewer
Out of its stinks yields perfume, so they deem
From human misery something will endure
Which shall be lovely; how, they do not dream.
56. “Shall we, whose Reason's infancy is past
Bow like the ostrich to the stroke of chance
Hiding our heads in holes, or to the last
Inertly tossed by waves of circumstance,
Mere flotsam on the boundless sea of time
Drift with its streams for ever, or perchance
With its dead matter sink into its slime ?
This is the teaching. Let us drift, who cares
For those who must come after, though we climb
More toilsonie hills that will not level theirs.
57. “Yet, in their hearts perhaps some self-contempt
(In mine 'tis boundless) for this passiveness
Is felt at times, for there are none exempt
From that desire, which they can scarce express,
To make the world a paradise, where light
And love and beauty through the storm and stress
Of those dark ages, shall break from the night
Which wraps us now, its darkness only torn
By Passion's fierce red lightning, whence with fright
We are convulsed. Who hopes not for the Dawn?
5.8. “Too strong a picture ? Well it may be so;
And he whose eyes have gladdened when the sun
New risen makes the morning glories glow,


A MODERN HERMIT.
35
Watched silver streamlets sparkle as they run,
Or from a mountain loftiness looked down
On Earth's majestic beauty; such a one
Would think my words extravagant and frown
Zealous to prove their falseness ; yet they seem
Like truth to me; though I would not disown
Earth's loveliness; man's failings are my theme.
59. “And when one feels most strongly, one must speak
Most strongly, and the passionate sense of wrong
Which fills my being, finds all words are weak
For there are things, a thousand things, whose strong
Remembrance rightly wakes the wrath which now
Swells from my heart but cannot find a tongue.
Perhaps 'tis well, for Truth may wear the brow
Of Falsehood now to man's imperfect view
And what we fancy all must needs allow
Seems, to their thinking, violent and untrue.
60. “The race of man is thoughtless in the main,
And those whose minds disdain this hebetude
Like bees that buzz against a window pane
Must spend themselves in efforts which are viewed
With sneers and pity. Madmen, so it seems,
And mad they must be who have so pursued
In scorn of self their altruistic dreams.
But to such minds whose generous ardour flames
From pure compassion for a world which teems
With woe like this. What are contemptuous names ?
61. “If such are mad, let me deserve the name.
If I may feel that my best thoughts were given
D 2


36
A MODERN HERMIT.
To solve the problems of this world of shame,
And urge its evolution; to have striven
ALL that I am to be a living force,
Though it may be all vainly I have driven
My fleeting thoughts upon their restless course
Which oft seemed aimless, endless; I shall feel
My life has not been wasted, though remorse
Rankle in sores of memories too real.
62. “A world of shame! While suffering, death and pain
Must be the portion of its million sons,
And the fat few, whose pampered wishes gain
A thousand wants for every whim which runs
Its surfeit course, while these divide and waste
The Earth's abundance, and those hungry ones
Scramble to snatch the crumbs, which in their
haste
They soil and trample, for their madness grows
To such a height by selfish lust disgraced,
That each esteems his fellows but as foes.
63. “Is this an end for which a world should be ?
Shall its existence have no nobler aim ?
I should be wretched if I could not see
Some promise of a better, to reclaim
Our future from these sordid paths we tread.
Yet in this world, oh! surely where the name,
; Of Justice lives, and Pity is not dead,
There must in man be something which at last
Shall work out his perfection, though, far sped,
Ages upon these ages shall have passed !


Å MODERN HERMIT.
37
64. “Foresee the glories of that future time,
Let all the best of thine imagination
Rise strong and pure, yet though thy fancy climb
Serenest heights, to reach that consummation,
Still must thou fail, for we in truth must be
Like sightless children, born in tribulation,
Whose fancies nor the sun's bright splendour see
Nor magic beauties of the night, I ween,
Though those who love describe them. How shall we
Imagine splendours which have not been seen?
05. "There shall be love the love we know is lust-
A friendship which shall know no sexual bar,
Companionship without that vile distrust
Which poisons all those impulses which are
The holiest and happiest; and with this
There shall be Justice, man with man at par,
Nor woman valued only for the kiss
Of sexual fervour. Love and Justice, these
Mankind's sole laws of universal bliss
Reigning for ever in a reign of peace.”
66. Such was his talk, and such the prophecy
Wherewith he ended, as the sun the rain;
Words, which his accents kindled into me,
A prophecy, which did not seem in vain.
He spoke, my soul, exalted, rose and spurned
The meaner things which fill this life with pain
And hopelessness, for now my spirit burned
With a new life, rejoicing in the change;
My hopes grew boundless, as of one who learned
His soul was God-like, limitless its range.


38
A MODERN HERMIT.
I
67. 'Twas with a mind exultant that I trod
The city's street, because, in that brief term
Of absence from it, like a bursting flood
New hopes had sprung—my thoughts were proud
and firm,
And I, though many seemed so weak and blind,
Saw in each face some stamp of that great germ
The soul of man, whose form, yet undefined,
In embryo lies unquickened. Mother Earth
Shall, through her travail, from the seed mankind,
Bear her last, perfect, pure and glorious birth,
END OF CANTO II,


À MODERN HERMIT.
39
CANTO III.
1. I love the night. From Twilight's gentle hour
To ruddy morn there is a power abroad
Whose steps are traced in beauty, such a power
As daylight knows not though with brilliance
stored
And majesty, nor wants the glorious night
Of moon and stars its majesty, though poured
Less dazzling on a sleeping world its light
Has not the sun's bright fame; but there have been
Deep votaries who have known the magic might
Of solemn midnight, beautiful and keen.
2. I marvel not that those old Eastern Sages,
The gentle Budh, Zarushta, should conceive
Religious systems to survive the ages,
Nor that themselves should fervently believe
Their thoughts were revelations, for they kept
Long vigils and outwatched the stars to give
Their minds an empire over thought. They swept,
Breathless through realms of vivid light and guessed
In their rapt exultation truths which crept
From brain to brain through sluggards in the West.


40
A MODERN HERMIT.
3. And if my soul had solved the World Charade
Of secret meanings, knew there was a God,
At midnight I would worship. I have prayed
To what I know not, as I slowly trod
Some lonely summit whence the glorious scene
Visible round has wakened e'en the clod
Of animal nature awed by that serene
And solemn silence, underneath whose sway
My soul grew greater, braver. I have been
Poet by night-a soulless drudge by day.
4. For I have watched the livelong night thro' slow
Unmeasured hours, while twinkling stars that shed
The brilliance of a thousand years ago
Arose and set, and sudden meteors sped
Across the sky in light that flamed and fell
A moment past. Imagination led
The rapid train of fancies such as swell
The mind of man confronted with the vast,
The grandeur of the Universe—the spell
Of Time and Space—the Present and the Past.
5. Of such the mind's expansion, but the night
Has softer faces which, if they command
Less admiration, move to more delight.
And sullen must the heart be to withstand
The balmy influence, when each outward sense
Caressed and grateful bids it to expand.
Delicious Night! who knows not thine intense
And restful sweetness has not lived, his life
Is imperfection, bearing in suspense
The joy and splendour leaving but the strife.


A MODERN HERMIT,
41
6. Now is the time to ramble o'er the hill
With loitering step that pauses everywhere,
Obedient to some instinct, for the will,
Now dormant, doth relinquish all the care
And charge of motion, while the mind is chained
To meditation. Often, when despair
Crept over me, have I gone forth and gained
That exaltation which the night bestows,
Not wholly transient—something has remained
Which gives my life what happiness it knows.
7. No bed of roses has it been for me,
A private in the army of the poor-
A slave for lucre, while I cursed the fee,
And tutored from my childhood to endure
The galling yoke, which was the worse to bear
Because my spirit scorned the golden lure
And thirsted for its freedom, though its store
Of the world's goods were mean; and, crushed and worn
With wearying toil, my mind rose from despair
A thousand times, yet still was overborne.
8. I love the night, and therefore in the night
It came to pass ere long that I was bent
Upon that pathway which my mind's delight
Tracked often to the hermit's lonely tent.
The air was cool and lambent with the rays
Refulgent of the silver moon, which lent
From its full disc that brightness which betrays
Fair Nature's face unveiled, but does not tear
The mantle from her chasteness, like the gaze
Of the bold sun, till she lies naked to his stare,


42
A MODERN HERMIT.
9. The valleys slept in silence as I passed ;
The stately trees that stood beside the way,
All motionless, a steady shadow cast
Over the dewy plots which sparkling lay
In tracts of brightness by those shades increased ;
And the sweet flowers which all the busy day
Drew lively swarms luxuriant to the feast,
Beloved of insects, now were folded deep
In those sweet dreams we know not-Life had ceased
In all that wide soft solitude of sleep.
10. Upon that hill whose summit views the sea
I paused, o'ermastered, for the sight was grand;
And what there is of reverence in me
Was wakened, and my soul could understand
The thrill and joy of living. It was then
Deep midnight, and a meteor's fiery brand
Suddenly swept the sky. Sight once to men
A warning and a prophecy, but here
'Twas just a glory, though its flaming pen
Wrote characters of wonder o'er the sphere.
11. And to my sight from that commanding hill,
Its long horizon mounting to the sky,
Lay the broad sea, its surface wide and still,
So motionless that they might almost vie
The waveless sea and cloudless firmament
In deep tranquillity; and I
Have known no moment of such rich content
As then possessed me. Something of the peace
Of Nature passed within me, and I went
Firm-footed thence, feeling my sorrows cease.


A MODERN HERMIT.
43
12. Oh, there are moments when the soul expands
Beyond the body's fetters, when afar
It bounds o'er Time and Distance and commands
The realms of space, observing things which are
Not common to our knowledge, so transfused
With mighty Nature that no trifles mar
The glory of conception; I have mused
In such an hour divinely, but returned
To the cold earth whence holiness abused
Shrinks back too conscious that its gifts are spurned.
13. And in this grim material world such themes
Seem out of place, and I have feared to be
Misunderstood, if I should tell my dreams,
Which at the best were fragments and would flee
From the dim memory, as the inconstant spark
Of firefly swift doth cheat the child's fond glee,
Whose hand is opened empty-all is dark.
And so the mind like that infantile sport
Is cheated, and there but remains the stark
Thin skeleton of that once living thought.
14. Now through the wood my footsteps were directed
In twilight, for the woody temple's ceiling
Of twisted boughs so thickly intersected
Shut out the moon, though sometimes swiftly stealing
Through the dense roof, it fell upon the ground
In specks of light the images revealing
Of twigs and leaves. There was not any sound
In all that forest, but the trunks of trees
In the dim shadows seemed to move around
In ghostly wise with whispered colloquies.


44
A MODERN HERMIT.
15. One massive trunk lay prostrate in the path
Upon the forest verge; some tempest late
Had levelled the old giant in its wrath.
On its broad flank I rested, there to wait
The morn's arrival, while the Queen of air
Passed westward with her glorious train of state
Stars one by one I watched them sinking there
While slowly that long blissful night was borne
Into the past, and I turned eastward, where
The morning star was paling in the dawn.
16. And presently a solitary bird
Began its music with a matin lay.
Not long alone, a thousand notes are heard
In joyous chorus welcoming the day.
Now that soft flush, the loveliest Nature shows
Of all her hues, that deck the flowery spray,
Or paint the rainbow, o'er the sky arose.
The stars grow fainter, fainter, till the eye
Hath lost them all, but still that planet glows,
A single jewel set in that fair sky.
17. I rose, and soon my friend's abode drew near,
And I espied him walking where the dew
Hung gems upon a rose-bush. “You are here
Already, and the sun not up! But few
Would walk all night to visit one,” cried he.
“You would be less astonished if you knew
Me wholly," I responded, "for I see
,
But small delight in all that skimble-skamble
The world calls pleasure ; you can offer me
No greater pleasure than a midnight ramble.


A MODERN HERMIT.
45
6
18. “You are an early riser and have seen
Full many a 'sunrise with its glories old,
Yet ever new, and revelled in the keen
Refreshment of the morning as it rolled
Over the world, but have you ever known
That sense of seeing what but few behold,
That pulse of feeling which is not our own,
Which makes us more than merely man when
Night
In magic hours, profoundest yet, has shown
The fulness of her ecstacy and might?”
19. “Well,” he responded, “though the night has won
The frequent homage of my heart, elated
With its mild splendour, yet I love the sun.
See! where he rises with his orb dilated
Earth's glorious God, of greater worlds the Lord
Almighty Light! whose strength is unabated,
While the milleniums vanish, but is poured
Through endless space, while Time grows old and
hoary,
The primal sun! in majesty adored
By subject worlds; sole source of life and glory.”
20. He spoke in earnest, and my lips restrained
The jest that rose upon them thus to hear
Such sudden eloquence, and he regained
His thoughts and smiled.
"You see if you revere
That goddess who is sinking over there
Like a pale cloud, her shape so pearly clear,
I am no less a pagan and declare
My worship for the brilliant God alone,


46
A MODERN HERMIT.
In morning's temple with stained windows rare
And such a choir as fanes have never known.
21. “Hark at them now in lively minstrelsy,
Would it not make the saddest heart rejoice,
That marvellous music, discords though it be
To music's sad precisions, whose set voice
Mocks the earth’s joy with classic strains of art
More sweet to them, may Pan forgive the choice,
Than all the songs of Nature, though the heart
Beats none the faster for the maze of sound
Concertos, movements, what not! for my part
I would have something that would make it bound.
22. “But now the sun is brightening and his glow
With early warmth delightfully is shed
On the sweet air around us, let us go
Down to the river where a pool is spread
In a rare place, which fairies must have made
For their enjoyment, just before they fled
From the wise world when Arcady decayed.
You are, I hope a swimmer and will share
My morning joy, now, ere the freshness fade
From the bright water which is sparkling there.”
23. It was a winding pathway which we took
Among the trees that venerably grew
In a thick forest of old growth, whose look
Was of a thousand years, as though it knew
Old Time's long secrets, and was made the home
Of hoary Silence and his handmaids two,


A MODERN HERMIT.
47
Sweet Peace and Contemplation, who can roam
Fearful of violence never more abroad,
And keep their loved seclusion in the gloam
Of such old forests far from earth's wild horde.
24. Our thoughts remained unspoken as we passed
Through the old forest for it would have seemed
A sacrilege to break that silence vast.
But when it ended and before us gleamed
A glade all smiles with sunshine and with flowers,
Our pleasure found its language. Life so teemed
In that bright spot that one might think its powers
To multiply were quickened, and the strong
Necessity whereby one kind devours
A weaker one did not to these belong.
25. Those envied insects whose felicity
Is to enjoy on lovely fluttering wing
“Delight with Liberty," which seem to be
All living in one atmosphere of Spring,
And die, too happy, when it fades, had here
Their brightest playground, where they wished to
bring
Nothing but gaiety, and everywhere
The eye beheld such numbers at a glance
That it might fancy all those insects fair
Held carnival and whirled in merry dance.
26. And for their due refreshment there was spread
A banquet where fresh cups of honey grew
In many coloured loveliness, and shed
Delicious odours with their sweets which blew


48
A MODERN HERMIT.
With every zephyr through the air, distilled
To finer fragrance. Birds of beauty flew
Sportive among the trees, and songsters trilled
The richest melodies they knew, so sweet
And blended so harmoniously, they filled
The sense of hearing with a joy complete.
27. Before the river broadened till it lay
In the deep pool whose surface met the sun
With glints and sparkles, it had brawled its way
Mid many boulders, foaming over one
And gurgling 'neath another, till it leapt
Down a steep rock with flood that seemed to run
With one last bound of wildness ere it slept
In tranquil waters lapping on a beach
Of narrow sand upon whose margin crept
The softest greensward, all along the reach.
28. But all along the further side there rose
A pile of rocks with ferns and moss o'ergrown,
Wax plants and lilies, each rare plant that grows
In the rich nurture of the mouldy stone
Where every cranny blooms, and in one place,
Whence at our coming there had swiftly flown
A kingfisher whose brilliance seemed to trace
A path of light behind his rainbow gleam.
A ledge of rock projected from the face
Of the rough cliff, ten feet above the stream.
29. My friend threw off his garments on the grass
And stood in native symmetry of limb.


A MODERN HERMIT.
49
A strong man, naked; one who would surpass
The Phidian statue's beauty, and on him
I looked in admiration as he went
Into the water and began to swim
Like things that sport in their own element.
Then climbed the steep, and from that vantage
rock
Dived headlong, and before the waves were spent,
Rose vigorous, nor breathless from the shock,
30. I followed suit, and quickly swimming over
Plunged from the height of that projecting stone
Deep down, as if my wish were to discover
The very bottom, but my breath was gone
Ere I could reach it. To the top once more !
Where like two schoolboys, truants who have flown
From hated tasks, for learning tasks them sore
Whom Nature calls to holiday, I ween;
We sported there, enjoying to the core
The swimmer's joy of bodily delights most keen.
31, Returned we to the hermit's hut to share
Substantial breakfast with an appetite
Which found enjoyment in a simple fare,
Simple and wholesome, wanting not delight;
With fruits fresh-plucked and moistened still with
dew,
And porridge made with blandest flavour right,
From the sweet meal the hermit's garden grew.
And that great python curled up on the floor
Shared the repast, a vegetarian too,
His early tastes remembered now no more.
E


50
A MODERN HERMIT.
32. There was a mountain a few miles away
Whose long flat summit levelled half the west:
One thousand feet its solitary sway
O’erlooked the undulations of the rest
Of that champaign; a lofty sovereignty
Which made itself conspicuous, and its crest
And sloping sides were bare. It seemed to be
Bald with a hoary age, and down its face
Ran deep ravines where Time had heavily
Scored the old mountain with its iron mace.
33. “What say you," said the hermit, “shall we go
To yonder mountain ? 'Tis not very far,
And well worth climbing for the view below
When you have topped it, and that rugged scar
Which dominates the mountain like a tower
Of other days—those good old days which are
Lamented so with all their crimes, when power
Worked its fierce will unbound-contains a vault
Which, built of marble, has survived the hour
Which washed the mountain down that hummock
to exalt.”
34. With gladness I consented, for to make
Such long wild walks has always fed my heart
With a romantic joy, when I retake
A child's fresh spirits once again in part,
Or sometimes wholly, when the breath of flowers,
The swift elixir of a magic art,
Thrills the tired brain anew, until its powers
Take on the hopes and buoyancy of youth,


A MODERN HERMIT.
51
And in the joyance of a few bright hours
Repair the ravages of years of ruth.
35. “Come, let us take some provender,” he said,
“And spend the day there," and with that he
packed
Fruits from the garden, and a loaf of bread
Into a wallet, till it fairly cracked
Under his generous hands, and so we went
Lighthearted forth, the while the python tracked
Our footsteps o'er the springy grass, which bent
But instantly beneath us, and I smiled
To see that snake so eager and content
To follow there like an obedient child.
36. Now I remembered that I had with me
A portion of a newspaper, and gave
The thing to my companion.
“ Ah!” cried he,
“This is the echo of what people rave
In the mad world of misery and joy.
Yet how these fellows pipe their little stave
Amidst the din, Like children with a toy,
Tin trumpets theirs, with which they think they
lead
The world's vast chorus, and in truth destroy
What harmony it might have had indeed.
37. “I do not love these journals, to my mind
One loses nothing when one loses these;
And while I live sequestered from mankind
I do live happy, for they cannot tease
E 2


52
A MODERN HERMIT.
With repetitions of their little news,
From day to day still sucking at the lees
Of human things, they know, but to refuse
The generous wine. Can such be teachers then,
Or do they labour only to abuse
Self-blinded guides of blind but better men ?
38. “Sensation is their very life—the breath
Of their existence. Wars and rumoured war,
Crimes, wretchedness, swift accidents when Death
In awful shapes takes victims by the score,
And acts of madmen, in a word the worst
Of human tragedies which they explore
To most unwholesome surfeit, all immersed
In a rank slough they will not lift their eyes
Beyond the ditch they roll in, and their thirst
Drinks in with glee the filth that round them lies.
>
39.
“What can we learn from newspapers ? What pulse
Will beat the stronger for a nobler thought,
Or feel the passionate throbbings which convulse
A mind in touch with Nature, of what sort
It may be in the wilderness or man
For all these vasty pages which have caught
And mock the name of Freedom, till a wan
And flimsy ghost usurps its memory?
And yet they might be foremost in our van
If but their freedom practised to be free.
40. “Crude politics, short-sighted, selfish, small,
Crude judgments set in violence of phrase


A MODERN HERMIT.
53
And cruder science, these, my friend, are all
You'll find in them ; what matter, so it pays?
All things must pay! 'Tis what men live for now,
And the Earth rolls through its eternal ways
Companioned by a Universe, to show
Its wondrous masterpiece in man whose brain
(So far above the animals, you know),
Evolves a mint and scrambles for the gain.
41. “Well, well, all things will have their day and
die,
And be forgotten, leaving their effect
Most vital if of evil, yet am I
Still sanguine for my spirit grows erect
At the bright picture which my fancy makes
Of the World's future, and my hopes expect
Its early coming. Even now Earth shakes
With the strong fire that burns beneath the crust
Of human polities; ah! if it breaks
Too violent forth, and leaves but ashes, dust,
(6
>
42. “But that is in the future; let us see
How wags the world at present and discern,
If so we may, some signs of what will be.”
With that the Hermit then began to turn
The paper round, and scanned its columns through
Attentive, but like one who thought to learn
But little. “This is news!” he cried; "the new
Story of evils older than the hills.
News! news indeed! I'faith, a motley view
Of petty things from politics to pills.


54
A MODERN HERMIT.
43. “And here is news from London which has passed
Beneath the seas. Those magic wires have drawn
The boundaries of our once wide world so fast
That thoughts which startled London in the morn
Are ours ere night, at these antipodes.
From that world's heart the pulse of life is borne
Onwards so swiftly that in wilds like these
We feel its strokes full measured, and must bear
Our portion of the tempest and the breeze
Which blows the straws of human doings there.
44. “Just now it seems a tempest is in store.
Here's Labour fighting for its life, and States
Massing their armies for impending war.
So must we struggle onwards. It abates
Man's pride in man to ponder o'er the deeds
Of human passions, jealousies and hates.
The Rational Being, with a thousand creeds
Of Love and Mercy, claiming for his own
All intellect; yet any beast that feeds
Mouth to the ground more gentleness has shown.”
45. The Hermit sighed; his words were full of pain
And weariness. Though he was silent now
I knew the thoughts that ached his busy brain
And showed themselves in wrinkles on his brow.
Then for awhile in silence we pursued
Our way o'er fields that never felt the plough
And had no pathway; where bright flowers strewed
The emerald floor in luxury of bloom,
Conspicuous too among the richer hued,
Daisies and jonquils with their sweet perfume.
1
1


Á MODERN HERMIT.
55
46.
<<
How that last rain has made the flowers spring!”
The Hermit cried, thus uttering the delight
That stirred us both. “It is a glorious thing
To see such loveliness as this ; no trite
And artful beauty here. This could not grow
Too common; would it were a common sight
For those who dwell in cities, where they go
Year in, year out, ungladdened, till their souls
Are narrowed to their narrow streets and know
No more of the world's beauty than the moles.
47. “Our lives are all too crowded, for men flock
Into the city and disdain the field
With all its fruit; would rather blast the rock
And pierce the mountain for its gold concealed,
Will travel far o'er loveliest fertile plains
To reach a barren wilderness, and wield
His mightiest powers with most unyielding pains
To get a metal; while one half his toil
Will furnish food for thousands, which remains
Neglected in more generous-offering soil.”
48. And now we neared the mountain, which rose high
Before our eyes, and promised a stiff climb.
Its rugged face appeared all bare and dry,
Rocky and steep a spectacle sublime
In its up-towering grandeur; one might think
It stands erect, defiant still of Time
And Heaven's eternal waters, but each chink
In its strong rampart widens in decay,
And that vast mountain to the vale shall sink
Ere man's triumphant race shall end its upward way


56
A MODERN HERMIT.
49. “Do you not think," I asked the Hermit then,
As we paced upward the ascent begun,
- There is an immortality in men
Not of the soul they prate of in each one,
That selfish soul for which as women teach
Taught by the priests, salvation must be won.
Though the world live unbettered, but from each
Unit of our humanity there flows
The sequence of an endless Life to reach
Unthought of futures ripening as it grows ?”
50. “Ah!” said my friend, “that is a thought above
The common mind, and yet it is a thing
Which, as it were, all men are conscious of.
They feel that this existence, while they cling
To it with passion something like despair,
Is not lived for themselves, but following
The myriad lives that seemed all buried there,
In the long past is carrying on the chain
Through the far longer future, which will bear
The fruits they know not. No one lives in vain.
51. “The feeling's vague, and yet it has engendered
Some nobleness in our imperfect race,
So that its genius is not all surrendered
To false enjoyment now, but there's a place
Amid the thoughts that make ourselves, for some
For those hereafter, when from man still base
A saner and more splendid man shall come,
In that Hereafter down the unguessed time
Which will not know us; 'tis the very sum
Of all unselfishness-a soul sublime.


A MODERN HERMIT.
57
52.
66
'Twould seem that we make cycles as we go
From race to race, all rising till they reach
High water marks of Civilization's flow
In the Eternal Sea upon whose beach
Of desolate sand--a border waste and bare
Are stranded fragments of the wrecks of each.
Not even wrecks have some left to declare
Their glories, which have vanished like a blast
Of desert wind, nor even that they were-
Lost in the awful silence of the past.
53.
Was, then, the highest ever reached as high
As the high thoughts which shake the races now?
I cannot think it, else they could not die
As they have died so utterly. To allow
That such sweet thoughts were mortal, were to
deem
That we exist for nothing, and avow
Our destiny the sport of chance-a dream
Of moments in eternity of night.
I cannot think it, such a thought would seem
Negation of our brightest minds of light.
54. “ There shapes a purpose in humanity
Yet dimly, for 'tis shapeless even yet,
But there is something which the fools may see,
(See, though their seeing sees but to forget)
Now, and the wisest know it not of old
A new sun has arisen not to set
Except in glory, and men's hearts grow bold
With conscious power. They feel the Future's
theirs


58
Á MODERN HERMIT.
An undivided Heritage, untold,
And unimagined, for their God-like Heirs.
65. “Perhaps my wish is father to my thought,
But I believe the passions of mankind
Are nearly spent, altho' the world distraught
Must breathe awhile ere yet its hunger find
Wisdom and calm and peace. The time is nigh,
Our souls are strong though many look behind
On the dead nations crying, "We shall die,
And vanish too, why should we toil and fret?
But there are some whose hopes and aims are
high
And will not lack attainment—though not yet.'”
6
56. The hermit paused half breathless, for we were
Up the long slope of the steep mountain faring,
Each steady footstep marking for us there
Its own length upward, and the day was wearing,
As sultry look as ever promised storm.
Up in the steely sky the sun was glaring
White, with a disc of strangely nebulous form,
And all the fields lay shimmering with a haze
Round the horizon, and we felt the warm
And languid air grow heavy to the gaze.
57. At length we wearied, and beside a rock
Which cast a little shadow from the sun
Rested awhile. “It's nearly twelve o'clock,"
The hermit said, "the summit must be won
Soon, for we'll have a thunderstorm to-day."
" A thunderstorm," I answered, “well, there's none


A MODERN HERMIT.
59
Who loves the lightning more than I-to say
I love it is no figure, from a child
I have delighted in the wondrous play
Of living light when all the sky seems wild.
58. “And now to stand upon this mountain's height
While a storm bursts around us and displays
Its awful glories, would be a delight
To fill my soul with splendour, and thus raise
The plane of my existence, for I hold
Our souls grow from our senses in all ways.
Who looks on strength and beauty will grow bold
And beautiful, who looks on mean things, mean,
For me the lightning, though my fate be told
In some bright flash-Death would be swift and
keen.”
59. The Hermit smiled. Perhaps you may live long
And die at home. Meantime from life to take
What joys we may (no happiness is wrong
Which is not robbed from anyone) we'll slake
Our thirst with some sweet oranges,” he said.
We lay and mused. Already many a flake
Of watery cloud began to form and spread
And thicken in the sullen frowning sky.
“Now up,” he cried, and pointed overhead
Where still the mountain towered bold and high.
60. A toilsome climb, and yet a pleasant tire,
Who does not love such pains and toil to rise
Up from the Earth's dull level and inspire
The untainted breeze through which the eagle flies,


60
A MODERN ÅERMIT.
And the clouds float; to leave the bounded scene
And watch the world expand beneath his eyes,
While with a sense unwonted, fresh and keen,
Of Liberty expands his fancy too.
Emancipate from what his life had been
The world becomes more lovely than he knew.
61. The falling sun had left an hour ago
His throne of glory in the middle sky,
When on the summit, breathless and aglow
With heated blood high pulsing, throats all dry
We stood at last victorious, and in pride
Looked down the mountain travelling with the eye
The glades and woodlands of the landscapes wide
Till it became the sea-
-a sea of lead
Which lay without the semblance of a tide
Beneath a sky as colourless and dead.
62. But westward when we turned and looked behind,
We saw the storm clouds gathering. Soon they
came,
With growling thunder, swifter than the wind,
Darkening the sky that quivered as the flame
Shot from the blackness of the rolling cloud
When the fierce Lightning took his dreadful aim
Anon the thunder shouted out aloud,
Wild with the joy of unresisted power.
On came the storm, advancing swift and proud
To show its strength in one tremendous hour.
6
63. “There is the Cavern that I spoke about,"
Said my companion, “Come and see it now


A MODERN HERMIT.
61
Before that storm has reached us with its rout
And rush and rain, and I will show you how
My mountain residence is made, for here
I spend some weeks in summer.” From the brow
Where we had stood, he led me quickly where
From the mid-level of the mountain height
The marble mound rose rounded as it were
A dwarf upon a giant-bare and white.
64. But as we neared it I could catch a sound,
The pleasant sound of water dropping; clear
Yet just a murmur, and I looked around.
The Hermit smiled. “That is the spring you hear,
Come, let your parched lips taste it, you will
think
That it is nectar.” A great rock lay near
One corner deep imbedded; from a chink
Beneath it sprang the water, as in haste
To greet the long lost sunshine; crying, “ Drink”
(Or so we fancied) as it sang and raced.
65. And then it took a little leap and splashed
On a great stone, from whence it found with glee
A little channel, and full gaily dashed
Upon its way the mighty world to see,
Still singing, as a young delighted child
Ventures on life, its gladness soon to be
Checked into grief and weariness beguiled
With hopes and fears; and so the streamlet grows
A river, mirthless, and perchance defiled,
Whose sluggish stream in solemn silence flows.


62
A MODERN HERMIT.
66. But now we drank, and in one fresh deep draught
Forgot fatigue and thirstiness, but still
Returned to taste, and yet as deeply quaffed
For more delight, and scarce could find the will
To leave it until startled by a peal
Of rattling thunder, near enough to fill
The air with such vibration we could feel
A swift concussion as it trembled round,
While through the ground a shudder seemed to
steal-
The silenced streamlet gave a frightened bound.
67. It was the storm king urging with that shout
Of mighty sound his chariots into speed,
And the wild steeds flung all their dark manes out
In maddest answer, striving which should lead
The impetuous race.
Now to the mountain come,
Their ranks divided and their course decreed,
In thunders new, their volumes rolling, some
To right rush onward, some to left, and form
A mass tumultuous raging round the dumb
And steadfast hill that braved the triumph of a
storm.
68. While thus the storm was round the mountain
whirling,
The summit left in sunshine while below,
A hundred feet the clouds and mists were curling,
Over and over like the angry flow
Of a tempestuous ocean far from shore.
We sought the cavern. Through the entrance low


A MODERN HERMIT.
63
I passed and started. Stretched upon the floor
Lay a great snake; but soon I knew, and cried,
"It is the python! He passed on before
While we were resting on the mountain side.”
69. There was a wondrous clearness in the light
Within the cave, although the sole supply
Came through the entrance; but the walls were white,
The floor seemed made of crystals, and the high
Dim-vaulted roof was hanging overhead
In seeming like a fleecy clouded sky;
And from a thousand fitful points were shed
A half-elusive radiance, now and then,
Above and all around. The eye was fed
With gleams of light, but saw not how nor when.
70. And there the coolness of the cavern brought
An all-delicious languor to each sense
That gives the spirit joy; and ours were taught
That luxury of sweetest indolence-
To rest, and know no wishes but to rest.
All vexing thoughts soon vanished—“Why?” and
“ Whence?”
Wearied no more with their incessant quest,
What we had lived seemed nothing, and what more
There was to live, undreaded and divest
Of all the doubts which troubled life before.
71. An hour or two passed imperceptibly
While thus we lay in that sweet conscious trance,
Whence, waking like a child in infancy,
We wanted food, for which expected chance


64
A MODERN HERMIT.
My friend produced his dainties. Then we passed
Forth from the cave and watched the storm advance
Upon the sea; and while it went it cast
A sudden deluge, till the wide fields lay
All sparkling there behind it in a vast
Sun-painted picture, green and gold and grey.
72. It was a vivid landscape. If the Earth
Has ever as those madmen, poets say,
At its own beauty laughed in joy and mirth,
This was the loveliest dimple that could play
Upon its lovely features. From the moist
And freshened vale a spirit rose to sway
Our hearts with infinite gladness; we rejoiced
Because it was rejoicing, and we gained
New thoughts and raptures, such as are not voiced
By men or books, or rarely and restrained.
73. The golden sunshine streamed upon the plain,
The silver river shone amid the trees,
And the great storm-cloud with grey sheets of rain
Passed on to mingle with the salted seas.
So we stood watching, while the setting sun
Painted two rainbows on it, and with these
Made an effulgence that suffused in one
Deep and soft glow the landscape and the sky.
Then the sun set. The sky grew cold and dun
And dead, as all things that are lovely die.
74. So we went down the mountain and drew near
The Hermit's hut when stars began to shine
With not a trace of vapour in the clear
And wondrous azure, from whose depths divine


A MODERN HERMIT.
65
More tiny stars came peeping; so at last
We crossed the river on the uncertain line
Of stepping stones embedded deep and fast
In the swift stream, and soon our tiring feet
Felt the familiar pathway, as we passed
The drowsy garden breathing welcome sweet.
75. There is a joy, of all most tranquil, when
We feel at home; whatever it may be;
Perhaps the tiger in its noisome den
Feels the same pleasure in its own degree.
Though Nature in most varied forms had been
All day our entertainer, yet were we
Glad that the day was done, and we could lean
With limbs relaxing to their wonted thews
On the knowu couch, while objects often seen
Rested the eye with their familiar views.
END OF CANTO III.
LCYDON: PRINTED BY WM, CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED,
STAMFORD STREET AND CHARING CROSS.









89001941673






E27 15T0058

77