THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES i, - . 9 ■•*■ / . fjl. *./ 4-^1^%^'f. i: t-i ^,/tx^--? ^-^ dJ^.S^-^-N^''* / ■ -i?^^-,- C— .c.C,..-C.. ' u t^ "«-'■• '*j:,:.^i^-'T" / x. U.i,A- ^^U^^^^^^J ■iL'i^,.^- ■■'^tf ^x. •■*^,«v %<. ljlu,^<;^^0 ^ ^^u^ r(J V' ^..-^•• y'-*-f#. J^-^ I _,,^«-Jrl.. ^i./-l^„C- A I ^l ^i\^'._1. ,.V=-' ^^••;^A DAY DREAMS. DAY DREAMS. TO WHICH ARE ADDED SOME TRANSLATIONS FROM THE ITALIAN. BY SIR JOHN KINGSTON JAISIES, Baronet, MA. CORRESPONDING MEMBER OF THE KOVAL ACADEMY DELLA CRUSCA. A iitfior of a Translation of Tasso's ' ' Genisa lem me Liber at a." " She was my vision in the night, My waking dream by day." Old Song, 1607. LONDON : PRINTED FOR PRIVATE CIRCULATION. 1879. CHISWICK PRESS :— C. WHITTINGHAM, TOOKS COURT, CHANCERY LANR. zSd. TO THE ARCH-CONSUL AND MEMBERS OF THE ROYAL ACADEMY DELLA CRUSCA. TO YOU I DEDICATE THESE LEAVES, AS EARNEST OF THE DEEP AND ABIDING SENSE OF THE GREAT HONOUR CONFERRED, IN ELECTING ME A MEMBER OF YOUR ILLUSTRIOUS BODY. J. K. J. n /} I c*/r_ n CONTENTS. O the Arch-Conful and Members of the Royal Academy Delia Crufca To Garibaldi Oft at the hour when day is break ing Tranflating Taflb . The Girl and the Bird . To To C. I. J. . To Ye alderliefeft Dublin hills ! To To a Favourite Canary that I trod upon Verona .... Venice .... Spezzia .... To GlengarifFe Page I 6 II i8 22 25 27 29 31 33 35 38 41 44 46 50 Co?itents. Page To G. H 52 To the River Guul, Norway 54 To the Bride— a River .... . 56 What is it fheds fuch magic o'er a name ? . 58 On Hearing that a Beautiful Girl was Dying 59 To ...... 61 To . 63 Cui Placet Oblivifcitur, cui Dolet Meminit 65 • 67 When fhall we meet again ? . . . 69 They told me I fliould not believe . 71 Translations. Tanto Gentile ..... 75 Del Pellegrini 76 Voi che Afcoltate . 79 Era il Giorno .... 81 Son Animali .... 83 Qiianto Piu M' Avvicino 85 Solo e Penfofo 87 I'vo Piangendo 89 Se Lamentar .... 91 In Qual Parte del Ciel . 93 LafTo che Mai Accorto 95 lo Amai Sempre 97 lo Son fi Stanco 99 Cefare Poi . 101 Or che il Cielo 103 Levommi il Mio Penfier . 105 Contents. XI extrafled are Nigh Chi Vuol Veder Ne Mai Pietofo Madre Erano i Capei D'oro Benedetto fia '1 Giorno Rotta e L'alta Colonna Non Puo far Morte Vago Augelletto In the fweet echoes that Gli Occhi di Ch'io Si SpefTo a Confolarmi Mentre che' Amor . Come Creder Debb'io Written on the Statue of Poi che Sdegno Lieta e Chiufa Padre Eterno del Ciel Parmi che'l Sol Orrida Notte . Doglia che Vaga Mormoranti . La Prigion Fu La Bella Pargoletta Diodati . Anch'io , Italia ! O Italia Ov' e Italia . O, death, that tak'ft Aura Soave This mortal life, which feems fo fair fo great a part of me Page 107 109 1 1 13 «5 17 '9 21 123 [25 27 129 3» 32 34 36 ■38 [40 142 [44 i46 148 '49 151 '53 155 '57 59 161 Xll Contents, Ah ! little bird! how very dear thou art A rofe Lycoris gave her flame Che far Potea The Laft Farewell Due Ninfe Chi mi Vede . Quando la Fe , Donna che Bella Sia II Segno Heaven made us happy fathers defolate After the ball-room's glare Quando Elpin .... Alfieri ...... Sonnet affixed to the Portal of St. Peter's, The lilies on Cogava's brink The bird of fong in Naniva Where is the realm of the wind Page . 162 IJ63 164 166 168 170 . 172 174 • 175 . 176 . 178 180 . 182 Rom< ; 184 . 186 186 . 187 &^^ TO THE ARCH-CONSUL AND MEMBERS OF THE ROYAL ACADEMY DELLA CRUSCA ON BEING NOMINATED A CORRESPONDING MEMBER. CARCE had I hoped that in my waning years. When every fenfe is burden'd with their weight, I fhould experience a new pleafure — I That had exhaufted all the old — youth, health, Arms, idlenefs, ev'n every hope, fave the one. And foreign travel, and the arch delight Of telling in our tongue an alien's thoughts. Ev'n this, the mafter paffion of my prime, B 2 To the Royal Academy Began fomewhat to pall, although, at times,' When mufing o'er the great original, All its old charm came back as vividly As when at firft beneath its fpell I choked. From faireft bower I pafs once more to field. Where the horrible, harmonious trumpet rings, Then back from all its carnage and its din To the fweet, filent folitudes of love. Now feems the poe.m on a rofe leaf writ. Now on a fliield amid the fume of war. Happy, thrice happy, do I deem the choice That led me to explore its boundlefs wealth, Inftead of baring my own poverty ! But ftill the poet ever feem'd a ftar Whom I could neither grafp nor realize. He loom'd fo diftant, {lately, and fublime ; V/hen, of a fudden, all amazed, I ftart To find that as 'twixt heaven and earth we meet. But can all this be true ? — or, do I dream. And wake to find life's dream reality — Now that all former pleafures are eclipfed, Delia Criifca. 3 Hearing my humble felf in the fame breath Named with Torquato TafTo — and by You ! And that your great Academy has deign'd In me to honour the illuftrious dead. But no ; I cannot ev'n in thought allow Myfelf to arrogate fuch honour — nay. Rather would I his mighty fhade invoke, And in the midft of you who know him beli. His pardon afk that, having dared fo much, I had not better reprefented him ; Having fail'd to follow his tranfcendent flight, Or catch the infpiration of his mufe. Nor gave my country but a baftard found Of his harmonious and majeftic verfe, Which after lapfe of ages echoes ftill. And with as grand fonorous mufic rings. As when he firft in his full vigour fang. But haply, if long ftudy and great love Of my great mafter may excufe defects, I fhall not feek forgivenefs all in vain, Aflured of your indulgent fympathy, Who in my poor attempt have recognized 4 T^o the Royal Academy An honeft wifh to extend Italian fame, And whofe approval is, 1 feel, a fpur To roufe me to frefh efforts, and at leaft. By them my utter gratitude to fhow. Not kings, though they the fount of honour deem'd, Could have beftow'd an honour half fo prized As that which from your hands I now receive And, as firftfruits, I crave the privilege To atone with him^ whofe loving care has raifed A living monument to TafTo's fame. And on it place, in kindred fympathy, The wreath your favour has accorded me. But which fits ill upon my blufhing brow. So for the future may a common love Your members bind, conftraining them to cry With one accord, and with a fingle voice, " Onorate 1' altiflimo poeta ! " And fo efface the undeferved ftains Upon him caft by fons of yours of yore. * Signer Ccfare Guafti, Secretary of the Academy. Delia Crufca, Thus were rewarded the long years of toil, Thus crown'd the afpirations of a life ! Thus could I vaunt at lead refleded fame. If link'd with Taflb's my unworthy name. TO GARIBALDI. Milan, October, i860. NCE more I pafs Alps' icy chains, And feel already in my veins The blood more light and free ; Into new life it feems to leap As I defcend thy mountains fteep — Enchanting Italy ! Here pregnant earth and nature teem With rank exuberance, they feem Unlike our latitudes ; The very grape upon the vine, As if anticipating wine, Its amber juice exudes. To Garibaldi. And what rich contrafts ftrike the eye ! Oleanders 'gainft yon azure (ky, In crimfon drifts behold. What lovely tints, what mellow tones, The purple figs, the very ftones Here lichen'd into gold ! Again I hear the glowing tongue That Petrarch, TaiTo, Dante, fung ; To me, its fimple found Appears more fweet than all the fenfe. Than all the wit or eloquence In other language found. But Hark ! who doth his thunders launch, Colleding as an avalanche Frefh force from every fide ? Who, rolling onwards gathers fiirength From kindred fouls, aroufed at length. Their joy, their hope, their pride ! 8 Day Dreams. Who came, favv, conquer'd — nay, whofe name Won bloodlefs vidories ere he came — Whofe fhadow feared away The ruffian hordes whom tyrant power Had bribed with gold — but in the hour Of danger, where were they ? They could not fave the Bourbon's throne From one who bearded them alone, And did a realm o'erthrow : Who won their hireling ranks and took St. Elmo's fortrefs by a look. Nor ftruck a fecond blow. Since faith of all his powers was chief, He paufed not to believe belief. But haften'd to the goal. Self-trufl, the child of fimple faith, Our ftay in life, our hope in death, So utterly fill'd his foul. To Garibaldi. 9 Like noxious vapours, which the fun Difpels, by fimply fhining on, So at his mere advance The King fled howHng in difmay, The motley hofts difTolved away At Garibaldi's glance. To thee and to thy loyal King The inebriate people psans fing From rife to fet of fun ; On Milan's dome the fnowy fpires Blaze with the light of thoufand fires That tell of freedom won. And foon there will be heard no more From Venice to Sicilia's fhore The Goth's barbaric twang; But in its place will ring the " Si " Of one united Italy, As Dante dream'd and fang. c lo Day Tireatns. But though Utopian fophifts wrote, With giant force thy right hand fmote — And To broke through the charm. The poet's hope, the patriot's fcheme. Had ftill remain'd an idle dream Without thy trenchant arm. Hence unborn ages will not fail Thee, Garibaldi, yet to hail As the mod glorious fon Of that fair land thy arm did free From torture, chains, and flavery. Thou fecond Wafhington ! Thee we fhall fee, the conteft o'er. Thy fabre fheath'd, retire once more To lone Caprera's ifle ; Defpifing earth's moft fought-for ranks, Content to read thy country's thanks In her awaken'd fmile. "He who does not imagine in flronger and better linea- ments, and in flronger and better light than his perifhing mortal eye can fee, does not imagine at all." — Blake. FT at the hour when day is break- ing. Between a-fleeping and awaking, I fee with ftill-clofed eyes Bright vifions, fo intenfely bright That, melting with excefs of light, They vaniifh as they rife. Glimpfes of golden lands I fnatch, Strains of unearthly mufic catch, Borne on whofe lofty flight I fpurn the earth, and as I rife To heaven, it feems the opening fkies My ravilh'd foul invite. 1 2 Day Dreams. Into the meafurelefs expanfe Of peopled planets I advance. Where Jupiter and Mars, And Mercury and many more, Though of the brighteft, pale before The illimitable ftars. And higher, higher, ever on. Far pad the regions of the fun. The ecftatic fpirit fprings To new and ever-brightening fpheres, Whofe mufic in my fpell-bound ears With found feraphic rings ; And thinks, as all entranced it roams, " Thefe ftars, it muft be, are the homes Of mortals after death — The many manfions which the Lord In His reveal'd hfe-giving Word To mankind promifeth." Day Dreatns. 13 Tranfported by fuch thoughts, I find Two powers contending in the mind Which fdeigning the control Of confcioufnefs to bind it, feels A fomething that unconfcious fteals Upon the hidden foul. A fomething which we can't define, But which, lefs human than divine. Unlocks the fecret fprings Of a myfterious latent fenfe That tells of future providence, And of forgotten things. The ghofts of fcarce-remember'd years, And fiiadowy forms and fiiadowy fears, Of joys for ever fled, Of hope that drooping oft revives. Of faith that unextinguifh'd fives. Though hope itfelf be dead. 14 Day Dreams. And indefinable fenfations. Vague yearnings, ftruggles, afpirations — A doubtful fecond fight That can but dimly, blindly fee. Till quicken'd from its lethargy. By more than mortal light. And fhe, my darling upon earth. Transfigured through the fecond birth, In radiant youth is there ; But much more beautiful fhe feems Than ever in my wildeft dreams I had imagined her. Her hair floats on her neck, her eyes Have caught frefh meaning from the fkies. And all beatified An angel fhe before me flands, And beckoning with uplifted hands, Invites me to her fide. Day Dreams. 15 Do I waking think, or fleeping dream ? As things paft comprehenfion feem My 'wilder'd thoughts to ftrain, And in their wanderings to have caught A fpark beyond the pale of thought That penetrates the brain, Which iiiform'd with tranfcendent light Revels in riotous delight To fober fenfe unknown, Making of all that fcience knows, Of all that fancy can difclofe, An empire of its own. By fuch celeftial virtue fired, Columbus faw, as if infpired, Another world, whence he, In full-plumed faith his fails unfurl'd. And reach'd that undifcover'd world Acrofs an uncrofT'd fea. 1 6 Day Dreams. So we may in this mortal ftrife Trace Ihadows of that other life, For man by Jefus won, But which, as will'd by Supreme will, We fhall not fully fee until Our earthly race is run. The fhipwreck'd failor in his hour Of extreme peril feels a power — A fpell — a know not what. Which at the moment ere he finks Welds in one lengthen'd chain the links Of time and place forgot. And as beneath the water yawns, Before his fight a future dawns Of mingled doubt and dread ; A memory for life entomb'd Is in that awful hour exhumed ; The grave gives back its dead. Day Dreams. \y As thus the darknefs, touch'd with light, Lays open to his ftartled fight The long arrears of fin ; Like one exploring haunted halls. Whom fiidden fpedral fright appals, He dares not look within. For who will venture to gainfay. When at the laft doom -dealing day Our God our Judge we fee, That His dread record of the foul, Be not the everlafting roll Of tell-tale memory ? But, thank'd be God ! in child-like faith We can deride the power of death. Through Chrifl:'s atonement i^ee. And with the infpired apoftle fing Triumphant, "Where is, death, thy filing? Where, grave, thy vidory ? " TRANSLATING TASSO on the banks of the awbeg Spenser's mulla. NTR ANCED for hours by Mulla's ftream I fit, And on the page that once taught Spenfer pore ; For he drank deep of Taflb's mufe ; from it He drew his love of legendary lore. Thus both his founts of infpiration I Have at command — the river and the book. While in my lap Torquato's volumes lie, Beneath my feet ftill rolls the immortal brook. Tranjlating 'T'ajfo. 1 9 Here where the beeches overarch its ftream, And with their fhade conceal day's garifh light, Rapt in a world of waking thought I dream : Nor idly wait return of flow-paced night. My fole diftradlion now — ah ! blifsful eafe — Is from their haunts to lure the golden trout, Where curls the water with propitious breeze, And drag with zefl: my httle vidlims out. Hiftoric Mulla ! like thy hvlng ftream May my undying numbers glide along, And with like ftrength and like tranfparence teem, The flowing tide of my harmonious fong. And while purfuing its uncheck'd career. Still varying beauties like thyfelf unfold ; There ftealing gently — dafliing madly here. Deep, yet not tame, though fparkhng ftill not cold. 20 Day Dreams. Now genial May with violets gems the banks. And the fward robes in fuit of brighteft green ; With wild wood-forrel pregnant Nature pranks The fpot ftill haunted by a Faery Queen. Not from bald fancy had the poet fought His infpiration, had he feen as I Her living charms with all the magic fraught Of thy more vivid fprings — reality ! My tafk is light to copy, not create, Were words but able to portray the grace, And catch thofe beams of foul that animate The rapt expreflion of her angel face. In each whofe change I feem to recognize The play of thought that caufes it, and see In the full meaning of her eloquent eyes The very foul and fource of poetry. Tranjlating T'affh. 21 And if I now o'er Taflb's pages throw A warmth, a colour, howfoever flight, If through my pen Armida's beauties glow. However faintly, in his blaze of light : Thine is the due whofe lovelinefs and worth, Firft touch'd my heart, and raifed my foul above The low and fenfual defires of earth. And gave foretafte of heaven in thy love. Caftle Widenham. f^ THE GIRL AND THE BIRD. HE night had fcarce her veil with- drawn, And ftars ft ill mock'd the doubt- ful dawn, When up from where fhe lay Sprang Mabel, heedlefs of the dark, In her defire to hear the lark Salute the break of day. Oft, oft fhe had been waken'd by. When faft afleep, the joyous cry Of his famihar note : But now awake, fhe fought the firfl Spontaneous, pafTionate outburft Of his fleep-frefhen'd throat. ne Girl and the Bird. 2 3 The vermeil tints now golden turning Set nature's plaftic features burning Beneath the fun's fierce brow, When, as if quicken'd by its flame, From all the buihes mufic came, A voice from every bough. She liftening at her lattice flood. And faw from out the mift-wreathed wood A thoufand fongflers rife ; Some flutter'd up and quick refumed Their perch ; their pinions others plumed, As if to mount the fkies. But pafl the refl, near out of fight, As fcorning limits to his flight. The heavenly fkylark foar'd ; And as from earth he farther flew. More weird and more unearthly grew The melody he pour'd. 24 Day Dreams. In unifon her features play'd, And reproduced each light and fhade Of his enraptured ftrain. A new-born joy fhe feem'd to fnatch, And, as it were, the madnefs catch Of his dehrious brain. Her frenzy heighten'd by the bird's, Had fail'd by mere articulate words To paint delight so ftrong. As deep a meaning you could trace In her expreflive, eloquent face As in the wild bird's fong. TO f^^^^^HE autumn leaves are falling faft. The wind makes melancholy moan Among the beeches rudely blown By dank November's blaft. The fick fenefcence languiiheth Of an effete expiring year, And faded are and grey and fere The colours of its death, Save where fome fiery creeper fhows In its enfanguined hedlic bloom. The fever that foreruns its doom, The taint that marks his clofe. £ 26 Day Dreams. No more updrunken by the fun, But fwoln with rains which now are rife, The ftreams alone have larger life, And with more riot run. The infeds born of fpring are dead, Nor of the birds that came with May Do any in our cold clime ftay, But to the fouth have fled. And with them thou — while I in lone And bitter folitude remain, And champ the curb, and fret the rein That holds me here — thou gone. And if at times I feem more gay. It is the better to conceal The utter lonelinefs I hdy But would to none betray. TO C I. J. WITH A MOSAIC BROOCH OF FORGET-ME- NOTS ON HER BIRTHDAY. f^^^^HOUGHfilent I,thefe flowers reveal The fetting current of my thought, And utter what I utterly feel, Forget-me-not ! Forget-me-not as years roll by, But let it be my happy lot. That thou refpondeft to the cry. Forget-me-not ! I carelefs if remember'd now. Or if by abfent friends forgot, My only care, my prayer that thou. Forget-me-not ! 28 Day Dreams. Living I'll ever write this day. However diftant be the fpot, And when I'm dead thefe ftones will fay, Forget-me-not ! Florence, May 6, i860. \ v/vC^j|^^ f^P ^ n (f^^^^ ^^^^ ^t^ TO 7:^^. ^^IS hard to tell, when lookhig upon thee, Whether thou art more good or fair or wife. Did ever mortal move fo gracefully. Were ever feen fuch fympathetic eyes? And when ronverfing on fome favourite theme Thou addeft knowledge to one's fpecial lore Amazed one is to find the fubjecft teem With latent beauties unobferved before. Then all thofe better works which will endure, When thefe extrinfic gifts have pafT'd away — 30 Day Dreams. To tend the fick, the needy, and the poor, To love thy neighbour, and thy God obey — All thefe comliine to render thee what no man Has ever {Q^n till now — a perfed: woman. Florence, 1878. E alderliefeft Dublin hiUs ! On leaving you my full heart fills, And fill mine eyes with tears, Ye conjure up a fhadowy train Of bygone pleafure dafh'd with pain, And grave with falling years. Ye are the fame, but ah ! how changed Am I fince as a boy I ranged Your gorfe-fringed, fragrant flopes, Ere able to diftinguiih truth Amid the blinding fumes of youth. And youth's fallacious hopes. 32 Day Drea?ns. But now I fee with other eyes. And though the mift that on them lies The vifual fenfe obfcure, Still through the infight of the mind, No more from clouds of error blind, Perception is more fure. I fee the changes wrought by time Upon green youth and golden prime, And feel — myfelf grown old — How fmall the chance that on this earth. The loving pair who gave me birth I fhall again behold. Still let us hope, — this fhort Hfe past, — That we fhall haply meet at laft. To part no more in heaven. Where free from forrow and from pain. We fhall eternal peace obtain, Forgiving and forgiven. On board the " UlRer." TO 1876. OW comes that joyous feafon of the year, When in their emerald apparel clad. The woods re-echo with the wild bird's fong; When the fifh fpring and grubs turn butter- flies, And nature breathes forth univerfal love. And all is hope and promife; when each flower. Though of the fimpleft, cowfiip, violet, Or the pale primrofe, is inftindt with life And flouts her flaunting fifters of July ; And if with many another lovely flower 34 Day Dreams. You have been ftricken down, God grant that you Reap utterly the genial influence And fulleft power of vivifying May. Its balmy breath brace up the unftrung nerves, Frefh force impart into the drooping frame, And graft its rofes on the pallid cheek. May grace and peace be multiplied in you ! God give you of the fatnefs of the earth. And may He give you of the dev/ of heaven, He who to glory calls us by His Chrift. And after that you have fuffered awhile Perfect you, ftrengthen, ftablifh, fettle you. And as at this boon feafon we behold New life and beauty in the inanimate world. And know that fave corn die it bides alone, But if it die it bringeth forth much fruit, So knowing that we muft pafs from life to death, May that belief confirm, increafe our faith In Him who died for us that we may live. TO A FAVOURITE CANARY THAT I TROD UPON. Fontainebleau, i860. ■ O found did aye fo fweet appear, Or fall fo welcome on mine ear, As that which now I heard. '''^^' Ah ! how my fpirit did rejoice To catch once more thy gentle voice, My alderliefeft bird ! Since I had deem'd were ever hufh'd Thofe dulcet notes as almoft crufh'd Beneath my feet he lay, Quick came and went his fluttering breath, His eyelids clofed, — alas ! of death He feem'd the guilelefs prey. 36 Day Dreams. But that I thought it finful, I Had pray'd to God thou might'st not die, Beloved as thou art; On bended knee had fought in prayer Relief againft the keen defpair That wrung me to the heart. " Live, live, my darling little pet, Live, live," I cried, — " nor leave me yet. Again thy bright eyes ope." Mine own with blinding tears were dim As piteoufly I gazed on him, Almoft bereft of hope. When lo ! he piped — not (kylark's note When ftraining his mellifluous throat The dawn of day to greet, Not nightingale in greenwood grove When pouring forth his foul in love Was ever half fo fweet. 0« a Favourite Canary. 37 By warrior bold the clarion's ftrain, By thirfty traveller falling rain, By wave-toft pilgrim ftiore, By mifer piles of glittering wealth, By patient gleams of coming health — Were never welcomed more. Flutter again thy gladfome wing, Thy top-knot ruffle, — fing, dear, fing. Thou fhould'ft not me refufe. For there are many friends on earth, And many a thing of greater worth, That I would liefer lofe. VERONA. HE moon is up, and not a fingle cloud Floats in heaven's fapphire vault — the bufy world, With all its fober, unromantic truths, Is veil'd behind yon curtain, star-inwrought, Which, as a drop fcene on the mimic ftage, Appears to fall from heaven, and for awhile Shut out appearance of profaic fad. Abftrafted thus from dull realities. Fond fancy foars upon unfetter'd wing. And, of the prefent heedlefs, views the paft Through the rofe medium wrought by poetry. Verona. 39 And on what fpot of more poetic drift Could fhe her vifion ope ? Here Hill fhe fees The enamour'd Juliet, on yon balcony. Hang o'er the mufic of her Romeo ; Still hears the falfe and fickle Proteus Sigh as he fings, " Ah ! where is Sylvia ? " While on this fquare, by fhadows myftified. His deathlefs fpirit ftalks. For it was here Great Can received the greater Florentine, And Dante's fpirit makes it hallow'd ground. For if there's aught of poor mortality That feems to fcape the common doom of death, And ftill retain its old vitality, 'Tis the ethereal efTence that furvives In the rapt numbers of undying fong, Which can with more religious influence, Than mitred prelate in empurpled robe Sublime and confecrate the meaneft fpot. 'Tis not, if we had power to raifc the dead. And converfe hold with the illuilrious paft, An Alexander or Napoleon 40 Day Dreams. That we would fummon from the filent grave. But Shakefpeare, Dante, or the bard who fung Of freed Jerufalem. The warrior's fame Were dead, not living through the poet's verfe. I muft to bed — to dream, but not to fleep. Verona, 1861. VENICE. AST night I had a ftrange, unearthly dream : Methought I enter'd a vaft city, where The ftreets were water, and I lay reclined In an enchanted bark — nor knew I how It floated ever onward, fince naught feem'd To give it motion in its errant courfe, And all was ftill and filent as the grave. The glafly bed on which the fhallop fwam Was not a river, but more like the fea, And dead fave where it fhimmer'd into life Beneath the unclouded moon. No banks were there, G 42 Day Dreams. But on each fide rofe up huge palaces, Their portals level with the watery way. Some maflive piles as if by giants built. Others light, airy ftrudlures, that appear'd More like the weird creation of a dream. Myfterious boats, with dufky trappings hung, PafT'd and repafT'd, from out whofe fable depths Sounds that belied their gloomy origin Flafh'd on my ftartled ears. Anon I faw An open fpace by myriad lamps illumed. O'er which a turret threw its ftately fhade. Two fides were lined by marble palaces. And on the third a gorgeous edifice, Rich with barbaric gold and painted walls. And fretted work and heaven-afpiring domes, On countlefs columns bafed and crown'd with fpires, Loom'd indiftindlly 'galnft the ftarry fky. Then down a fl:ream fcarce broader than the boat. Beneath innumerable bridges, I Venice. 43 Turn'd, through thick maffes of fufpicious fhade. One bridge there was that tower'd. above the reft, And fpann'd two beetling blocks, on paffing which Deep fighs and ghaftly waiiings froze my pulfe. We then plunged into gloom more deep and denfe. ***** Next morn I woke, and found myfelf in Venice. Venice, 1861. SPEZZIA. i OW beautiful this morn ! The filver moon Still rides in heaven as lady para- mount, Surrounded by a galaxy of ftars. But at each moment pales her waning charms Before the fplendour of the waking fun, Who, in a robe of fafFron- tinted fheen, Forefhows his pompous advent. Mafia's peaks Are ftill conceal'd by overhanging clouds, Which, like a load of care, appear t'opprefs The hills' ambition with a leaden weight. Still, ftill he lingers, as if loth to chafe Spezzia. 45 His unobtrufive rival from her throne, Who pale and paler every moment grows, Lookino- like maiden after mIdnIo;ht ball. The eaft begins to glow, and to the fouth Light, airy cloudlets float — pink, purple, grey. More vivid now light flafhes all around, Vermilion now, now orange it becomes. The Tyrrhene coast, Gorgona's ifle appear. The clouds grow crimfon, the blue vault more blue, Till in a blaze of unendurable light Burfts forth the full effulgence of the day. La Spezzia, 1861. TO N youth's heyday, when vivid fancy teems With high-wrought vifions of ideal bhfs, I never imaged in my wildeft dreams A fpot fo beautiful, so bright as this. And fain would I now trace, for thy dear fake, The varied charms of its umbrageous (hore ; Defcribe the calm of its tranflucent lake. Unruffled even by the fifher's oar. ? Since, though to fight so fair its furface dawns, No erring bark its treacherous bofom cleaves ; For in the midft of it a whirlpool yawns, That fucks all down, and not a veftige leaves. Yet mirror'd In its glafly face is feen The fairy fretwork of Gandolpho's towers. And mellow'd into fofter, rarer green Its terraced gardens and o'erhanging bowers. There Palazolo's white-wall'd convent ftands, And o'er it topples Monte Cavo's wood, And clofe beneath the monaftery's lands Th' hiftoric fite where Alba Longa flood. Thefe the enchantments that my mufe infpire, Far from the bufy world and haunts of men. 48 Day Dreams. And yet how faint this fketch — fuch fcenes require The painter's pencil, not the poet's pen. I feel how powerlefs are words to trace The flighteft femblance of this magic fcene ; Yet time can ne'er its lovehnefs efface, Or from my heart its living memory wean. And how defcribe the iris' violet wing, Or neighbouring pines that hang like clouds in air, Which now with throflle's joyous mufic ring. Now echo back the nightingale's defpair. Lofl mid the concert of the feather'd choir, Mid buzz of bees and gadding infe^ls' hum, I cannot clothe my thoughts as I defire — Mid nature's melody my voice is dumb. To 49 But hark ! for vefpers Palazolo ringing From his lone cell each cowl'd Francifcan woos, And fee, the fun, its dying glory flinging, Has ftill for death referved its lovelieft hues. Think, then, if abfent and alone, I fee So much to fill the heart and charm the eyes. What were the rapture if enjoy'd with thee ? This fpot were not then earth, but Paradife. Albano, i 86i. H GLENGARIFFE. OOD, water, mountain, what a olorious fcene ! Is that on which mine eyes tranf- ported hang ! The bay beneath, which but a few miles off Is lafh'd to fury by the Atlantic waves While meeting their ungovernable furge, Sleeps like a mountain tarn. Narciffus-like, The emerald ifles peer in the cryftal deep. As if to gaze on their own lovelinefs. The fhore is fringed with birch, whofe afpen arms, Fann'd by the breath of morn, wave trem- blingly. Glengariffe. 5 1 And give as 'twere a movement to the lymph, Unruffled elfe. Upon the northward flope Of yonder mount the writhen thunderbolt Seems to have left its trace, its jagged courfe Being outlined there in flone. Oh! what a fpot To prompt the poet or philofopher ! For ev'n the latter, tracking nature's fprings, Muft feek for large difcoveries in the mind. We little know, in its unconfcious flight. The fubtle part imagination plays. What led Columbus to difcover worlds ? More fancy's impulfe than mechanic rule. Here the rapt bard will meditating figh. To find what faint idea he can give Of fcene like this, which, though engraven deep Upon the faithful tablet of the mind, Yet feeks in vain a medium to convey His fenfe of its weird beauty to the world. Thou to be felt, Glengariffe, muft be feen. Glengariffe, i860. TO G. H. BLINDING blaze of fummer bloom, An odoriferous perfume, As if on Saba's {hore diftill'd, With utter light and fragrance fill'd That garden — it was trimly kept. And look'd as if by fairies fwept. The flowers like ball-room beauties dreft. Though of the lovely lovelieft. Still in their rich apparel fhow'd How much to art their nature owed. r the centre of an avenue, Aloft a fpringing fountain threw To G. H. 53 Fair water, in whofe plafhing fall Was heard a found moft mufical — A found expreffly form'd, 'twould feem. To make thought-laden fancy dream. The lady of this dainty place, Which gains from her a living grace. Comes daily here — they fay fhe can't Abfent herfelf one day from Nant. No wonder — for I here could ftay And pafs, not hours, but life away, Where art and nature fo unite To charm the fenfe of fmell and fight, And nothing lacks, fave certain eyes, To make the place a Paradife. Llyfdulas. TO THE RIVER GUUL, NORWAY. OW fweet away from cities' ftrife, To lead this fimple, country life. And feel no more at fchool, =^ But free from the reftraints of town, And all its cares, to wander down The folitary Guul. And v/hat enchantment ! rod in hand. To fifh its fparkling ftream, and land A falmon from Flafk pool ; The rife — the rufh — the lightning run — The leap — the ftruggle — until done He gafps befide the Guul. To the River GuuL ^^ Still fleeting are thefe joys, for fooii Will pafs this pleafant month of June, And fteal upon us Yule, When frozen will its furface be, And fcarce will trickle to the fea The once abounding Guul. & But memory of thefe calm delights, Thefe halcyon days, thefe dreamlefs nights, Nor years nor clime can cool ; As at this month, fo in December, I'll drink to thee, as I remember Thy fummer golden Guul. Bogen, 1869. ^r^^^^^C^^ TO THE BRIDE— A RIVER. OW happy I when at thy fide, Beautiful Bride ! And though not mine thou art, Still thou forbiddeft not That I fhould haunt the hallow'd fpot That fo enthralls my heart. 'Tis true, at times thou murmurcft, As on thy bread I caft my longing eyes, And with keen expeftation ftretch Toward thee my eager arms, to catch Thy beauties as they rife. To the Bride — A River. ^j Ah, yes ! thrice happy 'tis to ftray "When lovely May Is opening out in all her pride, And all her fweets perfume the air, With one fo innocent and fair As thou, beloved Bride ! Creagh Caftle. HAT is it fheds fuch magic o'er a name ? And clothes the fimpleft with fuch wondrous fpell ? What influence doth the wayward mind inflame, And makes it thus againft itfclf rebel? The name that once was like another, now Appears imbued with Tome refiftlefs fway. Or whence this fudden flufh upon my brow. Why fuch em.otion doth my heart betray ? Why doth my blood with fuch wild fever rufli? Canft thou, Maria, tell the reafon why I never fee thy name without a blufh, I never hear it breathed without a figh ? On Hearing that a Beautiful Girl WAS Dying, if not Dead, from Spasms of the Heart. HAT ! Florence ill ! — I can't believe That fhe is fuffering, whom I faw but only yefter eve, In beauty's brighteft bloom. They only try to pierce my heart By telling me that death Has fhot through hers an icy dart. That (he now gafps for breath. 6o Day Dreams. She in the heyday of her prime, The beautiful, the gay, 'Twere hard indeed before her time That fhe were fnatch'd away. Who did where all were young and fair, Such admiration gain ? Who moved with fuch a graceful air. Who fang like Florence Fane ? How comes it then ? — perhaps the Lord Hath laid our idol low. To chaften with avenging hand The friends that loved her fo. And retribution thus imparts Her havoc to atone. That fhe who broke fo many hearts, Should perifh through her own. Ballyellis. TO HY afk thee for thy photograph When in my heart it lies ? Heaven's brightefl: rays are not by half So graphic as thine eyes. The funbeams when transferr'd by art With them no funfhine bear, The traits are like — but ah ! we ftart. For life is wanting there. Where are the lightnings of the eye, The dimples on the cheek ; The blufhes which though filently, So eloquently fpeak ? 62 Day Dreams. Thefe are the charms no art can give, No portraiture impart ; Thefe, while its colours die, ftill live Undying in the heart. TO O frefh and paffing fair thy face is, So exquifite thy mien, That in it all the feveral graces Seem haply to convene. Art ufeleffly her tribute lends Frefli beauty to impart, And {hows how nature far tranfcends The trickery of art. Thy prefence even hate difarms, Thy fovran fway to prove, As old admirers find new charms, And feck again thy love. 64 D^iy Dreams. The conftant hand outftretch'd to thee By fome rejefted Twain, But fhows how wrung the heart muft be That pleads and pleads in vain. If thou art falfe my doom I know, My haplefs fate forefee. The pain I feel for others' woe How paft all thought for me ! GUI PLACET OBLIVISCITUR, CUI DOLET MEMINIT. ERE I like this grey dial-done, To count but funny hours, The tafk how eafy in this lone, This gloomy world of ours ! For ev'n the moments of delight, I number here v/ill pafs, As fwift as fwallows in their flight, Or breath from looking-glafs. The web of care exiftence weaves, Will banifh thefe from view ; And hfe, hke autumn's yellow leaves, A {fume a jaundiced hue. K 66 T^<^y 'Dreams. The eagle walk inftarr'd with flowers, The terrace crown'd with limes, The myrtle that triumphant towers In fpite of wintry rimes — The glen of mafs, where holy men Were wont to offer prayer, The haunted wood, the fairies' glen, As its inhabitants fair. The ivied abbey, the old hall. The rufhing river's bend. That laves its bafe, and, more than all, The welcome of a friend. All, all will fade — regrets will mar Remembrance of this fpot ; Our pleafures ne'er remember'd are, Our forrows ne'er forgot. Ballynatray. ADELINE. WAS in the merry month of May, When every bloflbm looks more gay, And every leaf more green ; That In the woods of Inverawe, Lord Walter for the firft time faw Young Adeline. Upon the taffell'd arches ftood Bright pearls of rain, and all the wood Was filver'd with their fheen. When like a vifion of the night, Upon his ftartled, fpell-bound fight, Flafh'd Adeline. 68 Day Dreams Adown a fiinllt, flowery glade, At times fhe tripp'd, at times delay'd, Some firftling flower to glean ; But not among them all was there A flower fo fweet, fo frefh, fo fair As Adeline. They met — fhe liflen'd — in her ear He whifper'd words fhe blufh'd to hear, And in that fylvan fcene They often met — they often talk'd, But once too oft with Walter walk'd Lofl Adeline ! The above and the two following pieces have been fet to mufic by the author. STANZAS FOR MUSIC. HEN fhall we meet again ? — the hour Has clang'd from yon green- mantled tower That parts us, Madelaine ; And as the echoes die away They ftrike a chord which Teems to fay, When fhall we meet again ? When fhall we meet again ? — Perchance For the laft time thy earneft glance Has pierced my aching brain. And read the anfwer that defpair Imprints in living language there, When fhall we meet again ? 7© Day Dreams. Few words are utter'd by the tongue, When to its core the heart is wrung By agony of pain, But now that honour bids me fly, From out its depths efcapes the cry, When fliall we meet again ? The dreams of youth diflblve, and ope Upon a dreary wafte where hope Is dead, and where 'tis vain From out the paft one ray to {leal. Or afk the future to reveal, When we fliall meet again. STANZAS FOR MUSIC. HEY told me I fhould not believe The words that Johnny fpoke. That he was given to deceive, And every promife broke; They faid I would repent — regret — I do — that I cannot forget. My mother faid he was too poor To wed ; when poverty Show'd its gaunt vifage at the door, That love would quickly flee; She ftopp'd my pleading by a threat- I gave him up, but don't forget. 72 Day Dreams. And often in the wakeful night, And in the dreamy day, My Johnny flits before my fight : I cannot tear away His image from my memory — yet I ftrive — I flruggle to forget. The love implanted in my heart Has taken fuch deep root, That of myfelf it forms a part, And bears at times fuch fruit. That the fweet 'gainfl: the bitter fet, I would not if I could, forget. TRANSLATIONS TANTO GENTILE. DANTE. O full of grace and modefty appears My liege, when fhe another doth falute. That not an eye to gaze upon her dares. And every tongue is from emotion mute. Unmoved fhe hears her praife, and pafTes on, Clad in the humble garb of modeft worth. Looking a thing from heaven above come down, To fhow mankind a miracle on earth. To all the world fhe doth fo pleafing feem, That through the eyes enthralment gains the heart, 76 'TranJJations. Of which who have not felt it cannot dream, While from her lips, more fwift than Cupid's dart. Seems a fweet fpirit full of love to fly, Which the foul enters and there whifpers — figh. DEL PELLEGRINI, DANTE. E pilgrim guefts that through our city ftrayj And upon things not prefent meditate, Come ye forfooth from countries far away, As your appearances would indicate ? Since as ye pafs along her ftreets, no tear Falls o'er the dolorous city from your eye, Nor do ye, heedlefs, in the leaft appear To comprehend her grief 's intenfity. Could ye but ftay to hear the tale, my heart Affures me with an anfwering figh, that none yS T'ranjlations. Would without weeping from her walls depart, Since from her, her own Beatrice is gone ; To tell whofe merit in the fainteft guife Would as from ours draw tears from others* eyes. vol CHE ASCOLTATE. PETRARCA. YE that hear in thefe my fcatter'd rhymes The mournful fighs with which I fed my heart In the early feafon of my youthful crimes, When other than from what I'm now in part; Not only pardon do I hope to obtain, But ruth from thofe that love by fuffering know ; If in a ftyle fo varied I complain Of wild delufions and infenfate woe. 8o T'ranjlations. For now I fee that to the world my name Has been a byword and a mockery, Whence for myfelf I blufh and feel deep fhame, The bitter fruit of my idolatry, With that clear knowledge through which now I deem That the world's joys are but a fhort-lived' dream. ERA IL GIORNO. T was that day on which the fun grows black, As if to mourn its Maker, that I found Myfelf, fair lady, taken all aback By thy bright eyes, and in their trammels bound. Ill fuited feem'd the occafion for defence Againft love's cruel and infidious blows, So that I walk'd without fufpicion, whence My fadnefs for the common grief arofe. Love found me undefended 'gainft his fpears. And faw a pathway open to the heart M 82 Tranjlations. Through eyes become an outlet but for tears ; Still 'twas no honour, as I deem, to dart Shafts againft one unarmed, nor ev'n to fhow, Armed as he was from head to foot, his bow. SON ANIMALI. PETRARCA. OME animals there are of fuch ftrong fight, That the fun's noontide fplen- dour they can bear; Some Winded are by its excefTive light, Nor to go forth, except at evening, dare. Others there are whofe foolifh wifhes turn Them towards the fun, becaufe that it doth fhine. Who find it alfo has the power to burn. The latter cafe, alas ! refembles mine ; For I'm not flirong enough to endure the blaze 84 T^ranjlations. Of that fair fun, — my liege, — nor know I how In darkfome places to efcape its rays, Since through thefe wet weak eyes, O Fortune ! thou Lead'ft me to fee the goal of my defire ; Thus I purfue what fets my foul on fire. QUANTO PIU M' AVVICINO. Ml PETRARCA. S nearer I approach the final day That makes man's mifeiy of brief duration, More fwiftly I behold time pafs away, And that my truft in it is vain vexation. Not long methinks fhall I be led aftray By love, fince fleeter than frefh-fallen fnow DifTolves this heavy load of cumbrous clay, Through which we have a refpite from our woe. With death will thofe infenfate hopes expire That caufed me, mad-like, for fo long to rave, 86 Tranjlations. And fears and laughter, and laments and ire ; And then a clearer infight we fhall have, How oft by paths uncertain we advance. How oft repine and figh through ignorance. r^* SOLO E PENSOSO. PETRARCA. LONE and penfive through the fields I go, The defert fields, with flow and meafured pace. Mine eyes intent to fhun the paths that fhow Of man's propinquity the flightefl trace : No other means are left me in this need To fcape the fharp obfervance of my kin. Who in thefe joylefs lineaments can read By my exterior how I burn within. So that I fancy every hill and field And wood and river know the haplefs flate 8 8 Tranjlations, Of this my life, that is from man conceal'd. Still track I cannot find fo defolate, But that Love ever at my fide doth fkim With me convcrfing, as I do with him. I rVO PIANGENDO. PETRARCA. MOURN, I mourn, the bygone years that I In lovhig thing of mortal mould have fpent ; Pinions I had, yet ufed them not to fly, To crawl ignobly on the ground content. O King of heaven ! eterne, invifible, Which feeft my wickednefs, do not deny To guide my erring thoughts when they rebel, And their defect with heavenly grace fupply, That if I've lived in tempeft and in ftrife, I may in harbour and in quiet die ; N 90 Tranjlations. That glorious be the ending of my Hfe, If its career was vain ; and, ah ! be nigh To cheer what little yet remains to me. Thou knoweft well — I hope alone in Thee ! SE LAMENTAR. PETRARCA. HERE birds their melancholy defcant fing, And trees wave foftly in the fummer air ; Where lucid water ripples murmuring — Heard from a frefh and flowery margent, where I of love thinking, may fit down and write ; I fee, I hear, and understand her whom Heaven fliow'd but earth conceals : ev'n from that height Her fweet voice anfwers mine — " Ah ! why confume r Form L9-40»n-7, '56(079084)444 SBr- J am e s i;821 Day dreams PR li821 Jii25d 3 1158 01106 081 AA 000 369 847 9 *ii^ «