I 
 

 
 *%t ' 
 /4 s - i
 
 By the same Author, f cap. 8vo., 5*. 
 
 ))loO 
 IO IN EGYPT AND OTHER POEMS. " 
 
 NOTICES OF THE PRESS. 
 
 " Throughout his volume we have ample tokens of a delicate 
 ear and a refined taste. The poems are wonderfully free from 
 the blemishes too often found in the works of modern bards. 
 Either from a natural gift, or by much careful practice, they 
 have about them a finished ease not unlike the shorter pieces 
 of Coleridge. Less condensed than those of Tennyson, they 
 show much of the laureate's subtle fancy and artistic reticence. 
 Their author has the rare merit of knowing when to have 
 done, and what to leave out." Dublin University Magazine. 
 
 " The author of ' lo in Egypt' is a young man who has 
 only to do his own powers justice in order to make himself a 
 name among modern poets. It is not often that a first volume 
 contains so much, not only of promise, but of performance, as 
 that before us." North British Review. 
 
 " Mr. Garnett's style is pointed and sharp, expressing much 
 in little, with vivid clearness. His own genius may make his 
 own fame, for his lyrics have many lasting characteristics." 
 
 Tait's Magazine. 
 
 " A volume full of quaint, luxurious, coloured fancy." 
 
 Athenttum. 
 
 "Mr. Garnett has, by his latest poems, established a clear 
 title to the name of poet What strikes us next to his perfect 
 description is his perfect finish." Critic. 
 
 " Mr. Garnett writes with classic elevation and propriety, 
 and his volume will secure him respect, and with a superior 
 class of readers." Leader. 
 
 LONDON : BELL AND DALDY, 186, FLEET STREET.
 
 POEMS FROM THE GERMAN.
 
 POEMS FROM THE 
 
 GERMAN. 
 
 BY RICHARD GARNETT, 
 
 AUTHOR OF " IO IN EGrPT," ETC. 
 
 " Miraturque novas frondes et non sua poma." 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 BELL AND DALDY, 186, FLEET STREET 
 1862.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 nno the Moon . 
 *- Mignon's Song 
 Clttrchen's Song 
 Serenade .... 
 The Song of the Archangels . 
 
 Sunset 
 
 The Shepherd's Lament . 
 
 Huntsman's Song . 
 
 In Absence .... 
 
 In a Glade .... 
 
 Bokhara no reserve I make 
 
 The God of Youth . 
 
 A Vision .... 
 
 The Boy of the Mountain 
 
 youth, when thou pursuest . 
 
 Resolution .... 
 
 The Roe . 
 
 The ancient heroes came to me 
 
 Amphion's Lyre 
 
 The Garden's Denizen . 
 
 To my Infant Daughter . 
 
 Quatrains .... 
 
 Phantasy, Wit, and Reason 
 
 Oft, when Love hath lighted . 
 
 When the shades are turning . 
 
 Zobir 
 
 Goethe 
 
 Page 
 1 
 4 
 6 
 
 55 
 
 9 
 
 55 
 
 11 
 
 55 
 
 14 
 
 55 
 
 16 
 
 55 
 
 18 
 
 J5 
 
 19 
 
 55 
 
 21 
 
 ffolderlin 
 
 22 
 
 Uhland 
 
 26 
 
 55 
 
 29 
 
 55 
 
 31 
 
 55 
 
 32 
 
 55 
 
 34 
 
 Riichert 
 
 35 
 
 55 
 
 37 
 
 55 
 
 39 
 
 55 
 
 41 
 
 55 
 
 44 
 
 55 
 
 47 
 
 
 
 49 
 
 55 
 
 50 
 
 Platen 
 
 51
 
 vi Contents. 
 
 Page 
 
 Reverie Platen 56 
 
 In the Night 59 
 
 To ....... 61 
 
 Ye birds on limber boughs that swing . 62 
 
 Spring did a nuptial feast proclaim . . 63 
 
 The House of Childhood .... Brtntano 64 
 
 The Fisher 69 
 
 Serenade 75 
 
 Valkyrs Heine 76 
 
 Three and Two 78 
 
 TheTemi>est 82 
 
 TheAsra 84 
 
 Ottilia 86 
 
 Agnes ....... 88 
 
 Songs 90 
 
 The Three Lenau 95 
 
 In Moonlight 97 
 
 Roses, roses gathering .... 100 
 
 Ammonium ..... . f'rcUigr.ith 102 
 
 To my Pompeian Lamp .... Li HIM 104 
 
 Autumnal 107 
 
 Back to my home I turn'd, and found it . 108 
 
 Light my sleep and lighter ever . . 110 
 
 A serious man am I, whose every word . ScheJ'er 1 1 1 
 
 Every point of Love is fair . . . 112 
 
 What boots it that the violet shy . 113 
 
 Adam's Sacrifice ..... //<//// 114 
 
 An Emblem .... . ,, 115 
 
 In garb of gold and purple . . . JJcuttch 116 
 
 I thought upon my country ... 118
 
 POEMS FROM THE GERMAN. 
 
 TO THE MOON. 
 
 A S thou fillest glade and lea 
 
 With thy misty shine, 
 All my soul is drawn to thee, 
 Taken into thine. 
 
 All my field, beneath thy ray, 
 
 Soften'd I descry ; 
 Like my own grief look'd away 
 
 By a friendly eye.
 
 To the Moon. 
 
 Every ancient thrill again 
 
 Doth my heart possess, 
 Wanders on 'twixt joy and pain 
 
 In the loneliness. 
 
 Flow, flow on, dear brook ; but gay 
 
 Never shall I be ; 
 So delight has flow'd away, 
 
 And fidelity. 
 
 Once, alas ! was wholly mine 
 Earth's most precious gain ; 
 
 Far too precious to resign, 
 And, ah ! to retain. 
 
 Ripple, brook, in silver break 
 
 Forth the vale along ; 
 Ripple on, and rippling make 
 
 Music to my song ;
 
 To the Moon. 
 
 When thou, in the wintry eve, 
 Dost thy banks o'erflow, 
 
 Or the virgin buds receive 
 Yet a greener glow. 
 
 Blest who, hating not, but yet 
 Shunning earthly noise, 
 
 Wanders with a friend from it, 
 And with him enjoys 
 
 Feelings which, to men unknown, 
 
 Or forgotten quite, 
 Roam the silent breast alone 
 
 In the silent night.
 
 MIGNON'S SONG. 
 
 ~\7 NOW'ST thou the land where flowers the 
 
 citron-bloom, 
 
 And golden orange glows in leafy gloom ? 
 A soft wind flutters from the fair blue sky, 
 Still stands the myrtle and the laurel high ; 
 Know'st thou the land ? 
 
 O there, O there, 
 My Friend, my Love, might thou and I repair ! 
 
 Know'st thou the house ? on pillars rests its roof, 
 The high hall shines, the chamber gleams aloof, 
 And marble statues stand and gaze on me, 
 What is it they have done, poor child, to thee ? 
 Know'st thou the house ? 
 
 O there, O there, 
 My Friend, my Guide, might thou and I repair !
 
 Mignoffs Song. L 
 
 Know'st thou the mountain-path, in vapours grey 
 Immersed ? the slow mule picks his foggy way ; 
 In caves abide the dragon's ancient brood ; 
 Crashes the rock, and over it the flood. 
 Know'st thou the path ? 
 
 O there, O there, 
 My Friend, my Father, let us both repair !
 
 CLARCHEN'S SONG. 
 
 /CHEERFUL, 
 
 ' And tearful, 
 And thoughtful to be ; 
 Waiting, 
 Debating, 
 Irresolutely ; 
 Cast into darkness, 
 Shouting above, 
 O ! happy alone 
 Is the heart with its love.
 
 SERENADE. 
 
 /^V NOT thine eye unsealing, 
 
 Give half a dreaming ear 
 While sweet my strings are pealing : 
 Sleep, what would'st more, my dear ? 
 
 While sweet my strings are pealing, 
 The stars bless, beaming clear, 
 
 The deep eternal feeling : 
 
 Sleep, what would'st more, my dear ? 
 
 The deep eternal feeling 
 
 Doth lift me from the sphere 
 
 Of earthly rout and reeling : 
 
 Sleep, what would'st more, my dear ?
 
 Serenade. 
 
 All earthly rout and reeling 
 
 Thou mak'st to disappear, 
 'Mid gloom and still concealing : 
 
 Sleep, what would'st more, my dear ? 
 
 'Mid gloom and still concealing, 
 
 Giv'st half a dreaming ear, 
 While sweet my strings are pealing : 
 
 Sleep, what would'st more, my dear ?
 
 THE SONG OF THE ARCHANGELS. 
 
 IV TOW, as hath ever been, the sun 
 
 Makes music 'mid his brother-spheres, 
 As his predestined course to run 
 
 With steps of thunder he careers ; 
 New strength the gazing angels draw, 
 
 Though he be comprehended never ; 
 Thy works, O Lord, Creation saw 
 
 Sublime, sublime are they for ever ! 
 
 And swifter far than tongue can say, 
 The circling Earth in splendour ranges, 
 
 And the fair glow of Eden-day 
 
 With deep and awful night exchanges ; 
 
 The waters foam up from the ocean, 
 
 And scourge the rocks with frenzied force,
 
 10 The Song of the Archangek. 
 
 And the swift spheres' eternal motion 
 Whirls all along in breathless course. 
 
 And fury of unbridled storms 
 
 On every land and sea has birth, 
 And raging in contention forms 
 
 A chain of terror for the earth ; 
 The thunder crashes on its way 
 
 The lightning flames forth to destroy, 
 But the mild process of Thy day 
 
 Thy servants, Lord, revere with joy. 
 
 And we are strengthen'd to all time 
 By scanning what we fathom never ; 
 
 The first day saw Thy works sublime, 
 And they are still sublime for ever !
 
 11 
 
 SUNSET. 
 (FAUST loquitur.} 
 
 HAPPY he 
 
 Who yet may hope to rise from error's sea ! 
 Our little lore is little aid, and what 
 Perchance were worth the knowing, we know not. 
 Yet be not the last ray of this fair day 
 
 Dimm'd by the plaints of an uneasy mind ; 
 Lo ! where the sun sinks bright, and bathes in light 
 
 The huts with countless clustering leaves en- - 
 
 
 
 twined ! 
 It sinks, the orb has lived his term of life, 
 
 Yet westward wending, he recruits his ray, 
 O for a wing to lift me from this strife, 
 
 Plant me in heaven, and launch me on his way !
 
 12 Sunset. 
 
 Girt with the rich resplendence would I sail, 
 
 And watch the wide world at my feet unroll'd, 
 Each hill alit, a calm on every vale, 
 
 And every brook a wandering thread of gold. 
 Not all the savage mountains' soaring peaks 
 
 Were barriers to impede my godlike flight, 
 The spreading sea to her remotest creeks 
 
 Lay as a map 'neath my undazzled sight. 
 The sun at length in night's cold clasp must fade, 
 
 But what avails my ardent course to bind ? 
 I chase the fleeting splendour undismay'd, 
 
 The day before me and the night behind, 
 The unbounded heaven above, the unbounded sea 
 
 Below. Bright vision, art thou vanishing ? 
 Forbear thy dreams, fond soul, 'tis not for thee 
 
 To beat immortal air with mortal wing. 
 Yet is there not a son of clay, but feels 
 
 Some high emotion in his breast take birth, 
 When, from the blue that her frail form conceals, 
 The lark's glad song descends to earth,
 
 Sunset. 1 3 
 
 When eagles wide their wings expand 
 O'er the steep mountain's piny crest, 
 
 And o'er long wastes of sea and land 
 The crane steers to her southern nest.
 
 14 
 
 THE SHEPHERD'S LAMENT. 
 
 TTERE, here upon the mountain 
 
 A thousand times I stand, 
 And on my staff I lean me, 
 And look upon the land. 
 
 My feeding flocks I follow, 
 My good dog keeps them well, 
 
 And now I have descended, 
 And how I cannot tell. 
 
 And here with vivid flowerets 
 
 The mead is all aglow ; 
 I stoop me and I pluck them, 
 
 For whom I do not know.
 
 The Shepherd's Lament. 15 
 
 Beneath the tree I house me 
 
 In tempests' roar and gleam ; 
 Her door is shut against me, 
 
 Alas, 'twas all a dream ! 
 
 A rainbow, like a vision, 
 
 Stands o'er that simple home ; 
 But she, she hath departed, 
 
 And far away doth roam ; 
 
 Far over the land, and haply 
 
 Far over the bitter sea ; 
 Move on, my sheep, move onward, 
 
 And, shepherd, woe is thee !
 
 16 
 
 HUNTSMAN'S SONG. 
 
 ~^T TITH ready gun, with heavy heart, 
 
 O'er hill and dale I rove, 
 And ever in my sight thou art, 
 Sweet vision of my love ! 
 
 Thou stealest on by glade and heath, 
 
 A lovely, silent thing ; 
 O, can my image o'er thy path 
 
 Be likewise hovering ? 
 
 Who leaves thec, slow must be his pace, 
 And sore his heart oppress'd, 
 
 If to the East he set his face, 
 Or if unto the West.
 
 Huntsman's Song. 17 
 
 Yet, when I muse upon thee, lo ! 
 
 A deep, a blissful boon 
 Comes purely o'er my breast, as though 
 
 I look'd unto the moon.
 
 18 
 
 IN ABSENCE. 
 
 A ND wilt thou then no more be mine ? 
 
 How can it be thou art not here, 
 When every word and tone of thine 
 Rings plain in the familiar ear ? 
 
 As when the traveller doth raise 
 His sight, and fruitlessly pursue 
 
 The singing lark, lost to his gaze 
 In sunlight and unbounded blue, 
 
 So all around and everywhere 
 
 My restless sight is strain'd for thee, 
 
 And all my songs one burden bear, 
 O come, Beloved, back to me !
 
 19 
 
 IN A GLADE. 
 
 TN a glade 
 
 I idly went, 
 Nought to seek 
 Was my intent. 
 
 I saw a flower 
 In shelter shy, 
 
 Fair as a star, 
 Sweet as an eye. 
 
 I stoop'd to pluck it, 
 Then did it say, 
 
 " Why be gather'd 
 To fade away?"
 
 20 In a Glade. 
 
 I gently loosed 
 The earth around, 
 
 Bore it home to my 
 Garden-ground ; 
 
 In a nook 
 
 The flower I set ; 
 There it grows and 
 
 Blossoms yet.
 
 21 
 
 T)OKHARA no reserve I make, 
 ^^^ Or Balkh or Samarcand ; 
 Where is the town I would not take 
 And give into thine hand ? 
 
 But ask the Sultan, whose they are, 
 If he such gifts approves ? 
 
 More great is he and wise by far, 
 But knows not how one loves. 
 
 O monarch, wouldst thou seek to vie 
 
 In lavishness with me ? 
 Thou must have such a queen as I, 
 
 And such a beggar be.
 
 22 
 
 THE GOD OF YOUTH. 
 
 HEN, in the silent even, 
 
 Or 'neath the summer night, 
 Thy spirit searches Heaven 
 
 For visionary light ; 
 If in the silent spaces 
 
 Thou deemest yet to see 
 The pale majestic faces 
 Of high antiquity ; 
 
 If a God's incarnation, 
 
 In Beauty's guise array 'd, 
 Thy spirit's aspiration 
 
 Can momently persuade 
 To stoop and linger, bodeful 
 
 Of happiness to be,
 
 The God of Youth. 23 
 
 And even on its road full 
 Of final melody ; 
 
 Then seek the stillest valley's 
 
 Most flowery recess, 
 And pour from golden chalice 
 
 The wine of happiness, 
 Thy bosom's spring, unwaning, 
 
 Is smiling yet on thee, 
 The God of Youth is reigning 
 
 Yet over thee and me. 
 
 As in the walks of Tibur, 
 
 When, rapt in dreams sublime, 
 The poet of the Roman 
 
 Forgot the flight of Time ; 
 Soothed by the elm-tree's whisper, 
 
 And freedom of thy flow, 
 Thou blossom-lipping lisper, 
 
 O crystal Anio !
 
 24 The God of Youth. 
 
 As by the halls of Plato, 
 
 When, ringing through the grove, 
 The nightingale saluted 
 
 The shining star of Love ; 
 When all the winds were breathless, 
 
 And, bearer of the swan, 
 Cephisus through the olive 
 
 And myrtle- thickets ran : 
 
 So fair is Earth yet, matting 
 
 The meadow with her flowers, 
 As erst in the grave Latin 
 
 And sweet Athenian hours ; 
 As grand the sky nocturnal, 
 
 As pure the sky of day, 
 The bosom as fraternal 
 
 With melody and May. 
 
 Then seek the stillest valley's 
 Most flowery recess,
 
 The God of Youth. 25 
 
 And pour from golden chalice 
 
 The wine of happiness ; 
 The joy of earth, unwaning, 
 
 Is smiling yet on thee, 
 The God of Youth is reigning 
 
 Yet over thee and me.
 
 26 
 
 A VISION. 
 
 . VEN now I had a vision ; 
 
 I lay upon a steep ; 
 It was by the sea-strand, 
 I look'd upon the land, 
 And out unto the deep ; 
 
 And by the sea-shore ready, 
 
 A gallant vessel lay, 
 With colour'd flags all blowing, 
 The pilot coming, going, 
 
 Impatient of delay. 
 
 Then from the distant mountains 
 Came down a gallant train,
 
 A Vision. 27 
 
 Like angels bright, bedeck'd 
 With flowers, and direct 
 They moved unto the main. 
 
 Before that gay procession 
 
 Fair children did advance ; 
 The rest made music, sung, 
 The empty goblet swung, 
 
 And interwove the dance. 
 
 They said unto the pilot, 
 
 " Come, wilt thou take us forth ? 
 The Loves and Joys are we, 
 And now would put to sea, 
 
 And all forsake the earth." 
 
 Then all those dear companions 
 
 Into his boat he bade, 
 Inquiring, " Say, ye kind, 
 Are any left behind 
 
 On mountain, or in glade?"
 
 28 A Vision. 
 
 " None," said they ; " speed us quickly, 
 
 We may not tarry here." 
 Swiftly the sea they cleft ; 
 I saw the earth bereft 
 
 Of all that made her dear.
 
 29 
 
 THE BOY OF THE MOUNTAIN. 
 
 T I THE mountain shepherd-boy am I, 
 
 Beneath me all the valleys lie, 
 Here on my dwelling-place is cast 
 The earliest sunlight, and the last, 
 I am the boy of the mountain ! 
 
 Here hath the stream its rocky birth, 
 I drink it ere it leaps to earth ; 
 Its waters none but I restrain, 
 I breast them, hurl them back again, 
 I am the boy of the mountain ! 
 
 The mountain-peak is all my own, 
 Around me all the storms are blown ;
 
 30 The Boy of the Mountain. 
 
 And let them howl from south to north, 
 
 Still shall my pealing voice go forth, 
 
 I am the boy of the mountain ! 
 
 The thunder and the lightning too 
 Pass under me, so high in blue, 
 I know the thunderbolts, and call, 
 "Hurt not my father's house at all ;" 
 I am the boy of the mountain ! 
 
 And when the tocsin rings, and leaps 
 Fire after fire on all the steeps, 
 I hurry down my mates among, 
 And swing my sword, and sing my song,- 
 I am the boy of the mountain !
 
 31 
 
 S~\ YOUTH, when them pursuest 
 
 What never can be thine, 
 Arid passionately wooest 
 
 The reachless and divine, 
 The prayer kind Heaven hearkens 
 
 It smilingly denies, 
 And soon no sorrow darkens 
 
 Thy bosom or thine eyes. 
 
 But when from every folly 
 
 The heart has turn'd away, 
 And seeks the noble wholly, 
 
 The good and perfect way, 
 And still it is forbidden, 
 
 And backward still is thrown, 
 O be its tears unchidden, 
 
 And give it of thine own !
 
 32 
 
 RESOLUTION. 
 
 HE'LL come along this pathway wild, 
 
 To-day I go adventuring ; 
 Why should I quake before the child 
 That never harm'd a mortal tiling ? 
 
 They hail her all, so glad they are : 
 I pass along and dare no glance, 
 
 Nor ever to the fairest star 
 Uplift my foolish countenance. 
 
 The flowers that greet her going by, 
 The birds with reckless songs of glee, 
 
 Love unforbidden testify, 
 Then wherefore my timidity ?
 
 Resolution. 33 
 
 Night after night have I declared 
 My trouble to the Powers above ; 
 
 But she from me has never heard 
 The monosyllable of love. 
 
 Here will I lie beneath the tree 
 Her punctual footsteps never miss, 
 
 And, feigning a soliloquy, 
 Will say how very dear she is. 
 
 Here will I O the consternation ! 
 
 She's coming on, she's drawing nigh ! 
 Here in this bush I'll take my station, 
 
 And watch her as she passes by.
 
 34 
 
 THE ROE. 
 
 A HUNTSMAN hunted many an hour 
 
 A roe by field and flood, 
 Till saw he where, 'mid tree and flower, 
 A charming maiden stood. 
 
 What hath befallen the good horse ? 
 
 Can he have cast a shoe ? 
 What hindereth the huntsman's course, 
 
 And checks his clear halloo ? 
 
 By mountain and by valley-path 
 
 Yet panting runs the roe ; 
 Stop, foolish thing, the huntsman hath 
 
 Forgot thee long ago.
 
 35 
 
 r I ^HE ancient heroes came to me, 
 
 Requiring I should sing their fame ; 
 I said : " Here is no place for ye, 
 
 One hath me utterly, the same, 
 Heroic since the world begun, 
 
 Whose shades and signs alone ye were, 
 Whose bannerals are moon and sun, 
 
 And his encampment sky and air ; 
 Ye fought for petty spans of ground 
 
 In petty spans of time ; but he 
 Monarch eternally is crown'd, 
 
 And his domain infinity. 
 More ardent fleets this blood, more worth 
 
 Streams in this breast's ennobled veins 
 Than e'er from gaping wounds gush'd forth 
 
 For wither'd wreaths on brazen plains.
 
 36 
 
 What can a mortal hand essay 
 
 Worthy a mortal heart to move ? 
 The serious deed is childish play, 
 
 And great the littleness of Love. 
 Here sleeps he in triumphant rest, 
 
 The worlds swing dreamily along, 
 His cradle-throne my loved one's breast, 
 
 His victor-lullaby my song.
 
 37 
 
 AMPHION'S LYRE. 
 
 T) Y hill and valley treading, 
 "^"^ And singing with the streams, 
 I saw the world lie red in 
 
 The early morning beams. 
 With what another vision 
 
 That scene did I descry 
 Since Love, with glow Elysian, 
 
 Had purged my inner eye ! 
 
 happy earth, for ever 
 Adorn'd where'er I roam, 
 
 On mountain or by river 
 
 Where is the sweetest home ? 
 
 1 said, and sat beholding 
 
 The landscape growing wide,
 
 38 Amphioifs Lyre. 
 
 In every nook unfolding, 
 
 And bright on every side ; 
 When, from the rosy portal 
 
 Before the morning-fire, 
 The hand of an Immortal 
 
 Reach'd down to me a lyre. 
 " I am," it whisper'd, golden 
 
 With accents musical, 
 " Wherewith Amphion olden 
 
 Did build the Theban wall. 
 If to thy feebler touches 
 
 No thronging homes be shown, 
 Thou marvel not, but much 'tis 
 
 If thou canst build thine own ! 
 Behold the green profusest 
 
 All swathed in golden air ; 
 Where is the mead thou choosest 
 
 To dwell with me and her?"
 
 39 
 
 THE GARDEN'S DENIZEN. 
 
 ^"T^HE garden's denizen 
 
 Am I, awaiting when 
 It liketh thee that thou 
 Should'st visit me, and how. 
 
 If as a sunbeam bright 
 Thou comest, to thy light 
 This breast shall ope, and be 
 What hue it pleaseth thee. 
 
 Or whether thou be fain 
 To seek me in the rain, 
 Or dew, behold Love's cup 
 To gather thee all up.
 
 40 The Garden's Denizen. 
 
 Or if it be thy mind 
 To fan me in the wind, 
 My bending shall express 
 My happy thankfulness. 
 
 The garden's denizen 
 Am I, awaiting when 
 It liketh thee that thou 
 Should'st visit me, and how.
 
 41 
 
 TO MY INFANT DAUGHTER. 
 
 AY a father without blame 
 
 Of his child enamour'd be ? 
 That am I ! now candle-flame 
 Melts away the gloom from thee, 
 Dear little daughter mine, still-nestled on my knee. 
 
 From the study, lone and chill, 
 To the nurs'ry's warmer air 
 Fled I, while my boys were still 
 Sporting out in the free air ; 
 I took her to my heart, and long I held her there. 
 
 As we two, with measured pace, 
 Up and down the room did go,
 
 42 To my Infant Daughter. 
 
 To mine own I press'd her face, 
 Patiently she left it so, 
 
 Something was meant thereby, she fully seem'd to 
 know. 
 
 And the while that thoughtfully 
 Strode I, and she mutely clung, 
 Strains of old came back to me, 
 Long unwonted to my tongue 
 The songs of love that I erst to her mother sung. 
 
 Where these fingers traced them plain 
 Rest they, by this eye unread, 
 'Tis not mine to wreathe again 
 Flowers already garlanded, 
 And deeper, sweeter themes possess the mother's 
 head. 
 
 " Therefore," this with speechless speech 
 Breathed I as I walk'd, but she
 
 To my Infant Daughter. 43 
 
 All my meaning seem'd to reach, 
 Smiling apprehensively, 
 " Thy parents' hoard of song be dedicate to thee ! 
 
 " Nought will thy dear mother heed, 
 Pleased with all that pleaseth me, 
 Meet for her is meet indeed 
 For herself renew'd in thee, 
 So take what for a space must seem a mystery. 
 
 " Sure I am, if faith be due 
 To high mood and pure intent, 
 Nought is written there, untrue, 
 From the inmost heart unsent, 
 Or that a maid may read and not be innocent. 
 
 " When thou with thy bridegroom fain 
 Walkest blithe and soberly, 
 May he sing thee sweeter strain 
 Than thy mother heard from me, 
 Not envied by thy sire for that more than for thee ! "
 
 44 
 
 QUATRAINS. 
 
 ~% It THO is in love, and evermore 
 
 To all the world doth show it, 
 Decidedly he is a bore, 
 Or else he is a poet. 
 
 WHO Love's commingled cup would drain, 
 And sweet without the sour obtain, 
 Would to the shrine at Mecca roam, 
 And yet be all the while at home. 
 
 IP thou would'st in the wall be shown, 
 And have us look unto thee, 
 Then certainly thou must, O stone, 
 Consent to let us hew thec.
 
 Quatrains. 45 
 
 IF somewhat, thou ambitious thing, 
 Thou would'st be, and not every thing, 
 Whence this astonishment to view 
 That other folks are somewhat too ? 
 
 NEW to thee, 
 Meet for thee ; 
 Chaff to me, 
 Wheat for thee. 
 
 FLY, if ye will, this world so mercenary, 
 But don't be, then, for its applause solicitors ; 
 'Tis odd, to set up for a solitary, 
 And then complain because one has no visitors. 
 
 CARE is the common burden, set 
 On all our backs, my brothers ; 
 The part that each one hath of it 
 Is ease to all the others.
 
 46 Quatrains. 
 
 THE sun would weep himself quite damp 
 To see on earth so many a scamp, 
 Would break into pieces and fall into bits 
 If it were not for the hypocrites. 
 
 THOU shalt not make a lamentation 
 For all thy earthly hopes' frustration 
 Till thou canst swear, and take it on thee, 
 That all thou fear'dst has come upon thee. 
 
 To love the best of all 
 
 Not oft doth it befall to thee ; 
 
 Rather to what thou lov'st doth it befall 
 
 To seem the best of all to thee.
 
 47 
 
 PHANTASY, WIT, AND REASON. 
 
 a hill sat Phant'sy, covering 
 Quite the half ; 
 By her that abbreviated thing, 
 Wit, the dwarf. 
 Not at all 
 Too short or tall, 
 But a betweenity, like me or you, 
 Stood Reason, watching the eccentric two. 
 
 Phantasy, half to high heaven upraised, 
 
 Caught a star, 
 
 Shook it, flung it, that the sparks outblazed 
 
 Near and far. 
 
 Quick as light 
 
 The little mite
 
 48 Phantasy , Wit, and Reason. 
 
 Darted and dived and overtook the rocket, 
 Button'd up the sparks into his pocket. 
 
 Phantasy a cloud down from the sky 
 
 Reach'd, swathed all 
 
 Round her shoulders, purple in its dye, 
 
 Like a pall. 
 
 Sits therein 
 
 The urn imi kin ; 
 
 Let but a plait be stirr'd, the moment after 
 
 The elfin face peeps forth with grinning laughter. 
 
 Phant'sy oped her mouth with thunder-word, 
 
 Wit bedumbing ; 
 
 The giantess is still, the dwarf is heard 
 
 Whistling, humming. 
 
 Reason loses 
 
 Patience, chooses 
 
 Rather to go, " Won't do at all for me, 
 
 This looks remarkably like Poetry ! "
 
 49 
 
 T, when Love hath lighted 
 All within my breast, 
 Hath he unrequited 
 
 Been, and I unblest. 
 Yet, have hearts of others 
 
 Turned to me, unseen, 
 Trust me, then, my brothers, 
 
 Sadder have I been. 
 Love to miss, so rarely 
 
 Present from the first ! 
 Wretched Fate, then, fairly, 
 
 Thou hast done thy worst.
 
 50 
 
 "^'K 7"HEN the shades are turning 
 
 Lakewards from the hill, 
 Feels the heart a yearning, 
 
 Pining to be still ; 
 When the gulls are breasting 
 
 Air towards the sea, 
 Then would I be resting, 
 
 Heart's delight, with thee. 
 'Neath the morning heaven 
 
 Gaily do we roam, 
 Ever in the even 
 
 Would we be at home.
 
 .51 
 
 ZOBIR. 
 
 TT is a fanatic and pillaging horde 
 
 Of Saracen lances, Abdallah their lord, 
 And now before thee 
 Their leaguer is gather'd, O fair Tripoli. 
 
 But ere they have struggled and storm'd through 
 
 the breach, 
 
 Lo ! Gregory's host, and a hero is each, 
 Byzantium sends 
 Him, dread of the foeman and stay of his friends. 
 
 And as he represses the Saracens' pride, 
 
 His golden-hair'd daughter rides on at his side ; 
 
 A suit hath she donn'd 
 
 Of armour, and sports with the spear as a wand.
 
 52 Zobir. 
 
 She hath arm'd her her faith and her land to protect, 
 The sword doth she brandish, the arrow direct ; 
 And, fair as the sun, 
 A Pallas doth seem and a Venus in one. 
 
 Her father arose, and, surveying his band, 
 
 With mighty allurement made stronger each hand ; 
 
 " Short work, my brave hearts ! 
 
 Press onward, and aim at Abdallah your darts. 
 
 " Who brings me the head of the chieftain, that day 
 
 Maria's white hand shall his valour repay, 
 
 A matchless reward ! 
 
 And treasure uncounted shall own him for lord." 
 
 Then doubled the Christians' might; in the brunt 
 The crescent grew pale, and the scimetar blunt ; 
 Abdallah is fain 
 To ride to his tent with a slackening rein.
 
 Zobir. 53 
 
 But in that dark camp was a dauntless Emir, 
 A levin of battle, they call'd him Zobir, 
 In irefullest mood, 
 His rattling spurs all bedripping with blood, 
 
 He sped to his leader, and cried, " Thou essayest, 
 Abdallah, the battle no more ! and delayest, 
 With jav'lin unhurl'd, 
 Who wert for the Caliph to conquer the world. 
 
 " Our hosts are discouraged, the Christians' guile 
 Repay thou in turn with a Saracen wile ; 
 And, promisers both, 
 Abdallah's be set against Gregory's oath. 
 
 " Proclaim it aloud, to thy bands be it said, 
 ' Who severs and brings to me Gregory's head, 
 Maria shall take, 
 And lead as a bride for his exploit's sake.' "
 
 54 Zobir. 
 
 As counsels Zobir, so Abdallah has done ; 
 Encouraged, his hosts press victorious on ; 
 The foe fly in fear, 
 And Gregory falls 'neath the sword of Zobir. 
 
 No ramparts the rout of the Christians stem, 
 The Saracens follow and enter with them ; 
 The banner of green 
 On Tripoli's every turret is seen. 
 
 The Mussulman might long Maria defies ; 
 At length, all surrounded, the enemy's prize, 
 With many a tear, 
 She yields to her fate, and is led to Zobir. 
 
 And one of the foremost, " To thee do we bring 
 The meed of thy valour, that marvellous thing 
 That gave unto thee 
 Thy glory, our Prophet his fair Tripoli."
 
 Zobir. 55 
 
 The champion heard, and return'd with a smile, 
 " The heart of a hero what face can beguile ? 
 What blandishment draw 
 Aside from the One and his paramount law ? 
 
 " Fear not, ye bold wooers, no rival am I ! 
 But thee, I release thee, go, maiden, and fly ; 
 My bride be my spear ! 
 Thou, weep for thy father, and rail at Zobir."
 
 56 
 
 REVERIE. 
 
 "T N yearning moods I gladly dream 
 
 Myself remote from mortal crowds, 
 A glider down a silent stream, 
 A gazer on the shadowy clouds. 
 
 Thrilling and sweet, through all the air, 
 Ring summer-birds' care-charming songs ; 
 
 And waters rock the boat they bear 
 Far from the world and all her wrongs. 
 
 But seldom to the brink I urge 
 My lonely bark, nor leave it then ; 
 
 But snatch one rosebud from the verge, 
 And cleave the watery path again.
 
 Reverie. 57 
 
 Remote, I view the pasturing sheep, 
 The flowery change from day to day, 
 
 And careftd girls their vineyard keep, 
 And scythes lay low the new-made hay ; 
 
 And taste alone the liquid space 
 Of light the heavens serenely pour, 
 
 And the pure river-drops that chase 
 The blood no fleeter than before. 
 
 ANSWER. 
 
 "\\ 7^ HAT would this vague despondency? 
 This craving indistinct and dumb ? 
 'Tis difficult the world to flee, 
 And easier to overcome.
 
 58 Reverie. 
 
 And even could'st thou fly, thine own 
 Impatient heart would quickly press 
 
 Thee back again, for love alone 
 Of man to man is happiness ! 
 
 Growth to decrease, decay to bloom, 
 
 Stern laws unalterably bind ; 
 The heart is deeper than the tomb, 
 
 The world less awful than the mind. 
 
 Thou seest the awfulness, but fleet 
 Time and Occasion bear thee by ; 
 
 The good and evil hour shall meet 
 Together in Tranquillity : 
 
 And, as the Moon through heaven doth range, 
 Now clouded, spotless now and free, 
 
 So like that moon thy life shall change, 
 And setting is for her and thee.
 
 59 
 
 IN THE NIGHT. 
 
 T TOW started I up in the night, in the night, 
 
 A moody, dissatisfied mortal ! 
 The street left behind me, the watch and his light, 
 Went through in my flight, 
 In the night, in the night, 
 
 The Gothic old arch and its portal. 
 
 The rillet ran on, coming down from the height, 
 I bent o'er the handrail with yearning, 
 
 And watch'd the bright ripples, as, clear as the sight, 
 
 They fleeted so light 
 
 In the night, in the night, 
 
 With never a thought of returning.
 
 60 In the Night. 
 
 Above, in the blue inaccessible height, 
 
 The stars' multitudinous splendour 
 Burn'd round the clear moon, that with purity 
 
 bright 
 
 Made even their light, 
 In the night, in the night, 
 More chaste und more tranquilly tender. 
 
 I look'd up aloft to the night, to the night, 
 And downward again to the chasm. 
 
 O woe ! thou hast wasted the day and its light, 
 
 And now thou must fight 
 
 In the night, in the night, 
 
 With grief and a sorrowful spasm !
 
 61 
 
 T 
 
 TO 
 
 HE form which in designing 
 Nature has all her diligence expended, 
 
 Remoulding and refining, 
 More daintily outlining 
 
 Than purest gold by craftsman ever bended : 
 
 O wear thou for its armour 
 
 The sober thought that loose desire represses ! 
 Be deaf unto the charmer, 
 And shun the subtle harmer, 
 
 Whatever hand approach the golden tresses. 
 
 Although thou seem elected 
 
 By Love, most frank, nor yet from melancholy 
 Remote, be Love rejected, 
 Thy heart with ice protected, 
 
 Or the wild fire will rise and wrap thee wholly !
 
 62 
 
 Y 
 
 E birds on limber boughs that swing, 
 How frank ye are and fresh of wing ! 
 
 With voices meet for morning, 
 
 That make me feel a moodier thing, 
 
 And mock me with a warning. 
 
 'Tis now an hour I glide and go 
 Your branchy summer-house below, 
 
 And pass the time but sadly 
 That doth for ye so brightly flow, 
 
 And bear ye on so gladly. 
 
 Who, safe in woods' retirement still, 
 In emerald mead, by glancing rill, 
 
 Leave man, in town and turret, 
 To build his own nest as he will, 
 
 And his own woe inherit.
 
 63 
 
 OPRING did a nuptial feast proclaim 
 
 By valley and by hill, 
 With song and instrument : 
 I was as malcontent 
 As if the snow lay still. 
 
 And many a jovial guest he bade ; 
 
 I was not of the train. 
 He knew that I, alas ! 
 Slave to her fancies was, 
 
 And for her fetters fain. 
 
 Now am I free, now is my spring, 
 
 Now have I joy and balm 
 From roses in the hedge, 
 From rivers and their sedge j 
 
 Yet is my joy more calm.
 
 64 
 
 THE HOUSE OF CHILDHOOD. 
 
 A N even-lighted glade in 
 
 There stands a house, holy and high ; 
 Thence many a youth and maiden 
 Looks forth with a changeful eye. 
 
 They change from weeping to laughter, 
 From darkness to light they pass, 
 
 Whatever their mood, soon after 
 It is not what it was. 
 
 'Twas there I saw my darling, 
 
 Lighteome and full of joy 
 As the blossom the young wind fondles, 
 
 And the rougher winds destroy.
 
 The House of Childhood. 65 
 
 And they, the youths and maidens 
 
 Who dwell in this sweet spot, 
 Poets and spirits and angels 
 
 Are they, and know it not. 
 
 They are like the gods and dress them 
 
 Each day in a different guise ; 
 And O, but my heart is heavy, 
 
 My darling will change likewise. 
 
 darling mine, where art thou ? 
 
 I come where thou should'st be, 
 And look to thy gleaming window 
 To look if thou look'st on me. 
 
 1 will cherish thee and will keep thee 
 Truly as ever I can ; 
 
 And there in the garden sits she, 
 And is with a wealthy man. 
 F
 
 66 The House of Childhood. 
 
 Then mattock and spade I buy me, 
 Bind a green apron before, 
 
 And like to a gardener make me, 
 And knock at the rich man's door. 
 
 " O rich man, open thy garden, 
 
 For gladness and not for pay, 
 Thy flowers will I foster and cherish, 
 
 My silver and gold are they." 
 
 " Welcome, gardener, welcome ! 
 
 Train up my roses higher, 
 Twine them and wreathe them and net them, 
 
 Fasten them up with wire. 
 
 " Draw the leaves thicker and closer, 
 
 Make me a screen so high 
 That nothing may fly beyond it, 
 
 A sweet little bird have I ;
 
 The House of Childhood. 67 
 
 " Sweetly and wildly and clearly 
 
 Down in the dell she sings ; 
 The tall trees stoop to hear her, 
 
 The flower at her feet upsprings." 
 
 I see my love that weepeth, 
 And secretly looks to me ; 
 
 The tall trees do not tremble, 
 No springing flower I see. 
 
 O, why didst thou forsake it, 
 That beaming house of light ? 
 
 The gold of thy head is paleness, 
 And dim thy eyeballs' sight. 
 
 I wander'd to the beach, love, 
 Thy shining star to see, 
 
 I saw it fall from heaven, 
 And sink into the sea.
 
 68 The House of Childhood. 
 
 I saw it fall from heaven, 
 And sink into the wave, 
 
 And ever my tears run downward 
 To seek for thy star in its grave.
 
 69 
 
 THE FISHER. 
 
 TT is a youthful fisher, 
 
 And perish'd is his bliss ; 
 Dead is his love and buried, 
 How shall he credit this ? 
 
 And till the stars' appearing, 
 And till the white moonshine, 
 
 He tarries for the maiden, 
 To row her on the Rhine. 
 
 And with the stars' appearing 
 The maiden true appears, 
 
 And feeble are her footsteps, 
 And white the robe she wears.
 
 70 The Fisher. 
 
 Then down the flowing waters 
 In silence do they glide, 
 
 She shivers and she trembles, 
 And shudders at his side. 
 
 " O love, the night is dewy, 
 The winds thy robe unfold ; 
 
 O, wrap thee in my mantle, 
 And screen thee from the cold." 
 
 And to the ancient mountains 
 Her snowy arms she spreads, 
 
 And hails the moon's effulgence 
 And silver on the heads 
 
 Of huge and hoary castles, 
 And in the boat upstands, 
 
 And fain would grasp the moonlight, 
 And hold it in her hands.
 
 The Fisher. 71 
 
 " O love, upon my bosom 
 In peace and stillness rest, 
 
 The stream is deep and rapid, 
 And death is in its breast !" 
 
 Now past the stately cities 
 The rapid stream impels ; 
 
 And in the towers is pealing 
 And chiming of the bells. 
 
 Then lowly kneels the maiden, 
 Her praying palms she folds, 
 
 And all the height of heaven 
 With sweetest looks beholds. 
 
 " Dear maiden, pray in silence, 
 And safer shall we float ; 
 
 I fear the hasty waters 
 
 And swaying of the boat."
 
 The Fisher. 
 
 Behold, a pious cloister, 
 And nuns the holy strains 
 
 Are chanting, and tall tapers 
 Illume the tinted panes. 
 
 And clearly sings the maiden, 
 Responding to the lay ; 
 
 And tearfully she watches 
 The fisher-youth alway. 
 
 Then chants the youth, replying 
 With tearful eye dismay'd, 
 
 And wistfully and dumbly 
 Doth look unto the maid. 
 
 And redder yet and redder 
 The kindling river glows, 
 
 And whiter yet and whiter 
 The maiden's visage grows.
 
 The Fisher. 73 
 
 And now the moon is fading, 
 
 And now the stars are few, 
 And now the maiden's bright eyes 
 
 Are dimm'd and heavy too. 
 
 " Good-morrow, dear my maiden, 
 
 And evening too in one, 
 Why should'st thou sink in slumber 
 
 At waking of the sun ?" 
 
 And plain he sees the steeples, 
 
 And plainly he perceives 
 The thousand- voiced concert 
 
 And rumour from the leaves, 
 
 And thinks to wake the maiden 
 
 To share the morning's grace, 
 And turns, and bends him o'er her, 
 
 And empty is her place.
 
 74 The Fisher. 
 
 Then in the boat he lays him, 
 And sobs until he sleeps ; 
 
 And on and on goes drifting, 
 And driving to the deeps. 
 
 Now rise the mighty waters, 
 
 And toss like to a toy 
 The frail unguided barklet, 
 
 And cannot rouse the boy ; 
 
 But safe amid the billows 
 The stately vessels glide, 
 
 And see the youth laid sleeping,- 
 The maiden at his side.
 
 75 
 
 SERENADE. 
 
 T ISTEN, mute in golden luting, 
 
 Silverly the brooks reply ; 
 Sweet saluting, gentle fluting, 
 Blending, ending tenderly. 
 
 Thrills the finger of the singer, 
 Thrillingly his heart replies ; 
 
 Sweetly through the dark unto thee 
 Music looketh with my eyes.
 
 76 
 
 VALKYRS. 
 
 they combat on the meads, 
 High in air on cloudy steeds 
 Sweep three Valkyrs, and loud rattle 
 To their shields their songs of battle :- 
 
 " Nations war when kings command, 
 Each would win the other's land, 
 Sovran sway is sovran good, 
 Greatest worth is bravest blood. 
 
 " No proud helmet now, huzza ! 
 Mocks the fury of the fray ; 
 Spilt the fiery blood and glorious, 
 And the dastard is victorious.
 
 Valkyrs. 77 
 
 " Laurel-crowns and triumph-arches ! 
 Proudly in the morn he marches 
 Who a better man o'ercame, 
 And despoil'd of land and fame. 
 
 " Burgomaster ! Senator ! 
 Crouch before your conqueror, 
 Hail with shouts your subjugation, 
 Open to your desolation ! 
 
 " Multitudes the walls array, 
 Cymbals clash and trumpets bray, 
 Clanging church-bells stun the crowd, 
 And the rabble shout aloud."
 
 78 
 
 THREE AND TWO. 
 
 OHY from a sullen rack of clouds 
 
 Upon a stormy sea 
 Look'd forth the moon, into the boat 
 We stepp'd, and we were Three. 
 
 The oars with stroke monotonous 
 Plash'd down into the sea, 
 
 And wild the foaming waves arose, 
 And sprinkled us all three. 
 
 And in the boat as pale and chill 
 And motionless she stood, 
 
 As she a marble image were, 
 And not of flesh and blood.
 
 Three and Two. 79 
 
 Now hides the moon her face, and shrills 
 
 A north wind cold and bleak, 
 And high above our heads we hear 
 
 An agonising shriek. 
 
 It is the white and ghostly mew, 
 
 And at the evil note, 
 That sounds like voice of warning, we 
 
 All shudder in the boat. 
 
 Have I a fever ? Is 't a jest 
 
 Of nightly phantasy ? 
 Mocks me a dream ? If so, it is 
 
 A ghastly mockery ! 
 
 A ghastly mockery ! I dream 
 
 That I a Saviour am, 
 And bear my cross of woe extreme 
 
 As patient as a lamb.
 
 80 Three and Two. 
 
 Poor beauty, prithee quake not so, 
 
 'Tis I will set thee free 
 From sin and shame and want and woe, 
 
 And all thy misery. 
 
 Poor beauty, prithee quake not so, 
 Though hard the cure may be, 
 
 My heart will break, and yet I know 
 That death is good for thee. 
 
 O mockery and evil dream ! 
 
 A madman's ghastly lot ! 
 Dark broods the night, loud howls the sea- 
 
 O God, forsake me not ! 
 
 Forsake me not, thou clement God, 
 
 Thou Merciful ! Shaddai ! 
 It plashes in the water. Woe ! 
 
 Jehovah ! Adonai !
 
 Three and Two. 81 
 
 The sun broke, towards the smilingJand 
 
 We steer'd our glad canoe, 
 And when we stepp'd out on the strand, 
 
 Then were we only Two.
 
 82 
 
 THE TEMPEST. 
 
 TTMERCE streams the blast in anguish coils 
 
 The wave beneath it, gleams and boils, 
 And soars with many a foaming fountain, 
 A white and living water-mountain. 
 The bark the waves in mockery fling 
 Forth from their foamy ravening, 
 A moment gleams and instant is 
 Lost in a yawning black abyss. 
 
 In vain my prayer and deprecation ; 
 Drown'd in the shock and agitation 
 Of the wild winds that raving battle, 
 And roar, and shriek, and howl, and rattle, 
 Like one vast cell of maniac sound 
 Yet hear I 'mid the broil resound
 
 The Tempest, 8.3 
 
 The gusty accents of a lyre, 
 
 And twanging chords, and voice of fire 
 
 That tear the shuddering soul along, 
 
 And hearkening know whence comes the song. 
 
 Far on the rugged Scottish shore, 
 Where the old castle gazes o'er 
 The frantic waters in amazement 
 There, at the lofty vaulted casement, 
 A pallid lovely woman stands, 
 Tender of glance and frail, her hands 
 Clang on the harp, and wild she sings, 
 And wild the storm her tresses flings, 
 And bears the voice of her emotion 
 Far o'er the roaring wastes of ocean.
 
 THE ASRA. 
 
 T^VAILY walk'd the Sultan's daughter 
 "^^^ In the gloaming, by the water, 
 Where the fountain, rising brightly, 
 Waver'd o'er the basin lightly. 
 
 Daily would the young slave glide 
 By the stream at eventide, 
 Where the water plash'd so gaily, 
 Pale wag he, and paler daily. 
 
 Came the Sultan's daughter nigher, 
 On one eve with words of ire : 
 " I thy name will understand, 
 And thy kindred, and thy land."
 
 The Asra. 85 
 
 " Mohamet the name bestow'd 
 On me, Yemen my abode, 
 And the Asra gave me breath, 
 Whose love ever is their death !"
 
 86 
 
 OTTILIA. 
 
 T N treacherous dreams I win my youth again, 
 
 It is the country-house that crowns the hill ; 
 And down the winding path that seeks the plain 
 I joyous wander with Ottilia still. 
 
 How blithe her blooming countenance ! Her sweet 
 Blue eye with merry malice twinkling shines, 
 
 And firmly stands she on her little feet, 
 
 And strength with symmetry of frame combines. 
 
 The accent of her voice is true and tender, 
 Revealing every secret of her mood, 
 
 And keenest wit illumed with fancy's splendour 
 Durta from the mouth that seems a damask bud.
 
 Ottilia. 87 
 
 'Tis not the net of folly that ensnares me, 
 I wander not, my reason firmly stands, 
 
 The spell of her whole being 'tis that bears me 
 With quivering lips to press her snowy hands. 
 
 Methinks at length I stoop and pluck a lily, 
 And giving it I tremble, and breathe low, 
 
 " Give me thy heart and hand, my sweet Ottilie, 
 That I may be as blest and good as thou ! " 
 
 Her answer must remain uncomprehended, 
 For suddenly I wake, and once more find 
 
 Myself a sick man, on my couch extended 
 Long years with tortured frame and troubled 
 mind.
 
 88 
 
 AGNES. 
 
 f I ^HOU wert a blonde-hair'd maid without a 
 
 stain, 
 
 So neat, so prim, so cool ! I stay'd in vain 
 To see thy bosom's guarded gates unroll, 
 And Inspiration breathe upon thy soul 
 
 A zeal and ardour for those lofty themes, 
 By chilly Reason scorn'd for airy dreams ; 
 But wringing from the noble and the good 
 The toil of hand, and heart, and brain, and blood. 
 
 On hills with vineyards' clambering leafage gay, 
 Glass'd in the Rhine, we roam'd one summer's day, 
 Bright was the sun, and from the shining cup 
 Of every flower a giddy scent flew up.
 
 Agnes. 89 
 
 A kiss of fire, a deep voluptuous blush, 
 Burn'd on each pink and every rosy bush, 
 Ideal flames in dandelions glow'd, 
 And lit each sorriest weed that edged our road. 
 
 But thou went'st on with even-stepping feet, 
 Clad in white satin, elegant and neat ; 
 No child of Netscher's brush more trim and nice, 
 And in thy stays a little heart of ice.
 
 90 
 
 SONGS. 
 
 i. 
 
 TT was a mighty monarch's child, 
 
 Her cheek was pale, her eyes were wild ; 
 Beneath a linden's shade I press'd 
 The maiden to my panting breast. 
 
 " I will not have thy father's throne, 
 I will not have his golden crown, 
 I will not have his realm so wide, 
 I will have thee, and nought beside." 
 
 " That cannot be," the maiden said, 
 " Because I am already dead, 
 And but by night the sods above 
 I burst for thee and thy dear love."
 
 Songs. 91 
 
 ii. 
 
 THE rose and the lily, the moon and the dove, 
 Once loved I them all with a perfect love ; 
 I love them no longer, I love alone 
 The Lovely, the Graceful, the Pure, the One, 
 Who twines in one wreath all their beauty and love, 
 And rose is and lily and moon and dove. 
 
 in. 
 
 WHO was it, tell me, that first of men reckon'd 
 Time by the hour and the minute and second ? 
 A soulless man, without heat or light ; 
 He sat and he mused in the long winter's night, 
 And counted the pittering steps of the mouse, 
 And the pick of the woodworm that gnaw'd at the 
 house. 
 
 Kisses, now tell me, who first did discover ? 
 It was the warm happy mouth of a lover.
 
 92 Songs. 
 
 He kiss!d without ceasing, he kiss'd without care, 
 He kiss'd his first kiss in the May-season fair ; 
 The flowers from their emerald cradle upsprung, 
 The sun brightly beam'd, the birds sweetly sung. 
 
 IV. 
 
 UPON my darling's beaming eyes 
 
 I plied my rhyming trade ; 
 Upon my darling's cherry lips 
 
 An epigram I made ; 
 My darling has a blooming cheek, 
 
 I penn'd a song upon it ; 
 And if she had but had a heart, 
 
 Her heart had had a sonnet. 
 
 v. 
 O DEAREST, canst thou tell me why 
 
 The rose should be so pale ? 
 And why the azure violet 
 
 Should wither in the vale ?
 
 Songs. 93 
 
 And why the lark should in the cloud 
 
 So sorrowfully sing ? 
 And why from loveliest balsam-buds 
 
 A scent of death should spring ? 
 
 And why the sun upon the mead 
 
 So chillingly should frown ? 
 And why the earth should, like a grave, 
 
 Be mouldering and brown ? 
 
 And why it is that I myself 
 
 So languishing should be ? 
 And why it is, my heart of hearts, 
 
 That thou forsakest me ? 
 
 VI. 
 
 SEE yonder, where a gem of night 
 Falls helpless from its heavenly height ! 
 It is the brilliant star of Love 
 That thus forsakes the realms above.
 
 94 Songs. 
 
 And one by one the wind bereaves 
 The apple-tree of silvery leaves. 
 The breezes, in their reckless play, 
 Spurn them with dancing feet away. 
 
 And round and round swims on the pool 
 The tuneful swan so beautiful, 
 And ever singing sweet and slow 
 He sinks into his grave below. 
 
 It is so drearj' and so dread ! 
 The leaf is wholly withered. 
 The fallen star has flamed away, 
 The swan has sung his dying lay.
 
 95 
 
 THE THREE. 
 
 PTT^HREE warriors that softly ride 
 From a lost field at eventide ; 
 
 From their deep wounds the warm streams break, 
 Courser and saddle glow and reek. 
 
 Slow move the steeds, weary and spent, 
 Else were the gush too violent ; 
 
 And close they ride, and closely each 
 Holds by his fellow in his reach, 
 
 And sadly look they on the death 
 In either's visage, and one saith :
 
 96 The Three. 
 
 " Woe for the maiden and the home 
 Where these cold feet shall never come ! " 
 
 " Woe for my meadow-lands and trees, 
 Castles and vassal villages !" 
 
 " The light of heaven is all I have ; 
 There are no windows in the grave." 
 
 Three vultures, dissonant and black, 
 Fly gloating on the bloody track ; 
 
 Shrieking among themselves they cry, 
 " Thou eatest him, him thou, him I."
 
 97 
 
 IN MOONLIGHT. 
 
 T THINK of thee, and wander lone 
 
 This spreading river nigh ; 
 O that we listen'd to its tone 
 Together, thou and I ! 
 
 O might we but together glance 
 
 And scan the happy rays 
 And meekness of the countenance 
 
 The virgin moon displays ! 
 
 Buoy'd safely on that bridge-like beam 
 
 My eager glances rove, 
 And range the silver-shining stream 
 
 Up to the darker grove.
 
 98 In Moonlight. 
 
 And, where a wave of light is cast 
 
 The water-waves upon, 
 I see how fleet these hurry past 
 
 And chase each other on ; 
 
 But where, outside that brilliant path, 
 The stream flows in the dark, 
 
 The sound is all my guide, nor hath 
 The eye what it may mark. 
 
 O maiden, that the hour were bright 
 With one regard from thee, 
 
 Who art the splendour of the night, 
 And silverness to me ! 
 
 When, heedless of my bosom's strife, 
 
 Thou roamest far apart, 
 Dead is the dismal stream of life, 
 
 And stagnant in my heart.
 
 In Moonlight. 99 
 
 But when, thy light reminist'ring, 
 
 That stream thou dost survey, 
 It ripples blithe and glittering, 
 
 And fleetly flows away.
 
 100 
 
 T3 OSES, roses gathering, 
 
 Roses of the rarest, 
 How I would that I might bring 
 Them to thee, my fairest ! 
 
 But, ere I had carried them 
 Far, to thee retreating, 
 
 Every rose had fled the stem, 
 For the rose is fleeting. 
 
 Further from his Love to stray 
 Be not Love persuaded 
 
 Than the hand of lover may 
 Bear the rose unfaded,
 
 101 
 
 Than the nightingale doth bring 
 Straws and sedges nestward, 
 
 Or her music, vibrating, 
 
 Wanders from the westward.
 
 102 
 
 AMMONIUM. 
 
 ; T) EST, stranger, while thy courser grazes ; 
 
 O, travel on no more this night ! 
 Stay by the greenest of oases, 
 That shines amid the sandy places 
 As when a topaz-wreath enchases 
 An emerald's pure, refreshing light !" 
 
 " Thanks for your hospitable proffer ! " 
 He said, and lighted down from his 
 Steed on the grass, and sat down over 
 Against his hosts, while past did hover 
 The vulture, flying to recover 
 Her eyrie in Pentapolis.
 
 Ammonium. 103 
 
 A sound of song and joyous dances ; 
 Wide on his knees he spread his book : 
 The tents, the fires, the steeds, the lances, 
 The swart Arabian countenances, 
 The beards, the shields like wild romances, 
 These things his ardent fancy took. 
 
 He sat with busy pencil stealing 
 
 An image of his desert rest ; 
 
 By the clear spring were camels kneeling ; 
 
 The lissom Arab maids, revealing 
 
 Their features half, and half concealing, 
 
 Sang, fleeting round their Christian guest : 
 
 " Rest, stranger, while thy courser grazes ; 
 
 O, travel on no more this night ! 
 
 Stay by the greenest of oases, 
 
 That shines amid the sandy places 
 
 As when a topaz-wreath enchases 
 
 An emerald's pure, refreshing light ! "
 
 104 
 
 TO MY POMPEIAN LAMP. 
 
 TV T O, comforter, we will not sever ! 
 
 My trusty lamp, whose modest glow, 
 When the torn nerves in agony quiver, 
 Pour'd mildly, saith, " Hope on, not ever 
 Shall this be so ! " 
 
 To thee my oil shall ne'er be scanted, 
 Could the pale spell the poppy hath 
 Repay the fellowship enchanted 
 Of thee to whom 'tis nightly granted 
 To light my path 
 
 To Helicon ? my path who drew thee 
 From charnels Neapolitan
 
 To my Pompeian Lamp. 105 
 
 To the clear day, and did renew thee 
 With light unused, which now unto me 
 Shines all it can ! 
 
 Rememberest thou thy home ? how play'd 
 The fountain, sent with genial flow 
 Forth from a marble mask, and made 
 Music all night in colonnade 
 
 And portico ? 
 
 Rememberest thou the chamber, say, 
 And him of quiet mien antique 
 Who nursed thy flickering light alway, 
 And seal'd his letter by thy ray, 
 
 And spoke in Greek ? 
 
 'Mid the pale shades, my gentle mate, 
 By the pure sun unvisited, 
 Hast slept this many a year, by weight 
 Of wrack and ruin desolate, 
 
 Bound to the dead ?
 
 106 To my Pompeian Lamp. 
 
 The slumberer's breath, the night-wind's sway, 
 Once more thou hearkenest, nothing loth, 
 From tree and flower thy witching ray 
 Seduces yet again the grey 
 
 And fickle moth. 
 
 My soul, that did thy soul restore, 
 Soon, tiny lamp, must change with thee, 
 And wander by the Avernian shore, 
 While thou on high dost lustre pour, 
 
 And tell of me, 
 
 Inquiring haply, when her fate 
 Brings thee dim Psyche in the night, 
 Art thou his spirit who hath sate 
 Wrapt in deep converse with me, late 
 
 Feeding my light ?
 
 107 
 
 AUTUMNAL. 
 
 /^V'ER shorn fields, grey with misty streaks, 
 
 The late winds pipe and shrilling roam ; 
 Stumbling beneath a load of sticks, 
 A widow leads her orphan home. 
 
 Here seek they the forgotten grape, 
 The harsh sloe there and woolly haw ; 
 
 In farm and grange the wild doves scrape 
 The stray grain dropt in mud and straw ; 
 
 And here returns on weary feet, 
 
 A poor lorn child of blame and shame, 
 
 At last for the last time to greet 
 The last of all who own his name.
 
 108 
 
 T)ACK to my home I tum'd, and found it 
 ~^*^ The old dear spot by many a sign, 
 The same the air, the songs around it ; 
 And yet it was no home of mine. 
 
 Sweet sang, in its old channel driven, 
 The stream, the deer the old path trod, 
 
 A soft string woke old tunes, and Even 
 Blush'd on familiar crag and sod ; 
 
 But at the door where erst, a ranger 
 Return'd, I saw my mother wait, 
 
 Sat strangely the intruded stranger, 
 And O, I felt my heart a weight !
 
 109 
 
 Methought a voice cried, and I started, 
 " Fly from this place, nor stay to learn 
 
 How whom thou lov'st are all departed, 
 And never, never will return !"
 
 110 
 
 T" IGHT my sleep and lighter ever, 
 Like a veil my grief doth quiver, 
 
 Trembling over me. 
 In dreams I hear thee come and go, 
 Crying at my shut door below, 
 I waken then, and the tears flow 
 
 For thee ? Ah no ! for me ! 
 
 Yes, yes, death is this ! 
 Soon another wilt thou kiss 
 
 When I am in my swoon ; 
 Ere yet the March-wind whirls the vane, 
 Ere yet the thrush begins her strain, 
 If thou would'st see me yet again, 
 
 Come soon, soon !
 
 Ill 
 
 A 
 
 SERIOUS man am I, whose every word 
 And action seeks the Better evermore. 
 
 Long did I muse, and vainly seek to know 
 If better 'twere, beneath stars' golden gleam 
 And trembling blossoms, while the nightingale 
 Debars alone the night from silentness, 
 To fall asleep, and slumber in thy arms ; 
 Or better, when the sickle of the moon 
 Reaps silvery paleness from the golden fields 
 Of the inflaming morn, and overhead 
 The lark is vocal, in thy arms to wake. 
 
 A prudent man will choose the safer part ; 
 I sink in slumber on thy breast at night, 
 And thou awak'st me early in thy arms.
 
 112 
 
 VERY point of Love is fair, 
 Love is perfect everywhere ; 
 Sweet 'tis to see, sweet to be fain, 
 Sweet to pursue and to obtain ; 
 The memory of Love, how loving ! 
 The loss of Love, how deep and moving ! 
 But, if of all I had the choosing, 
 My soul were fix'd on the refusing. 
 Then doth the unreach'd but seem to be 
 Set at a height more heavenly. 
 Every point of Love is fair, 
 Love is perfect everywhere.
 
 113 
 
 'I Ti THAT boots it that the violet shy 
 
 So privily doth blow, 
 When every cloud that roams the sky 
 
 Her mystery doth know ? 
 The south wind seeks the dim retreat, 
 
 And steals her breath away, 
 And hurries on with hasty feet 
 
 To give it to the day. 
 But I, my dear delight, will keep 
 
 The treasure I have found, 
 And not a curious eye shall peep 
 
 On all our fairy-ground ; 
 Nor wrong I thee by this reserve 
 
 And silence of my lays, 
 What angel is there doth deserve 
 
 To hearken to thy praise ? 
 i
 
 114 
 
 ADAM'S SACRIFICE. 
 
 'I II 7"ITH sweetest fruits, fresh from the bowers, 
 
 To the green mound he hies, 
 And wreathen leaves, and balmy flowers, 
 A fragrant sacrifice. 
 
 Blithe is his brow, then, saddening, 
 
 " Alas, my poverty ! 
 The very tribute I would bring 
 
 I borrow, Lord, from Thee."
 
 115 
 
 AN EMBLEM. 
 
 A TREE springs in a thirsty land, 
 
 Lone in the barren plain, 
 Withering beneath the sun's hot brand, 
 And stranger to the rain. 
 
 From the sere bough, luscious and loose, 
 
 Depends a glowing fruit, 
 Laden with all the lingering juice 
 
 And life of stem and root. 
 
 The rambling breezes soon will shake 
 
 Its mellow richness down, 
 Ungather'd for another's sake, 
 
 And made not for its own.
 
 116 
 
 ~I"N garb of gold and purple 
 
 The stately day had gone, 
 And Night, serene and pensive, 
 Was softly coming on. 
 
 From silent heights of heaven 
 Look'd down, on cot and lea, 
 
 The moon's pure curve of silver, 
 And stars some two or three ; 
 
 And dews descended, healing 
 The faintness of the bowers, 
 
 And so the winds were fragrant, 
 And like to winged flowers ;
 
 117 
 
 The quiet birds lay dreamless 
 And songless in the nest, 
 
 The nightingale was wakeful, 
 And warbled for the rest. 
 
 'Mid all the magic music, 
 And beauty of the glade, 
 
 Thou wert my thought, Beloved, 
 And thine the song I made.
 
 118 
 
 T THOUGHT upon my country, 
 
 And all my soul was stirr'd, 
 And in the dreams of darkness 
 Meseem'd I was a bird, 
 
 That fought against its cage-bare, 
 And shook them night and day, 
 
 And broke them with its pinions, 
 And singing flew away, 
 
 And rising, rising ever, 
 
 So loftily did go, 
 It saw the noisy Ocean 
 
 Move silently below,
 
 119 
 
 And in the dim blue distance 
 A strip of green there shone, 
 
 That green strip was a country, 
 That country was my own. 
 
 Nor knew I till this vision 
 Had come unto my heart, 
 
 Thou dear far land, how very dear 
 And very far thou art ! 
 
 THE END. 
 
 CH1SWICK I'RESS: PRINTED BY WH1TTINGHAM AND WILKINS, 
 TOOKS COURT, CHANCERY LANK.