^^•: A A = A^ =^^ ^ = ^^^ —1 n = - • j- n = :^^ JD 3 = ^^ (=> -J — ^ 9 — m '1 ? = ^— J> b = — :^^ C^ ~7 — < ^^ ^ 4 Doyle The two destinies rwt*K*Sw(*iiK- THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES . 1 .1 -if— ■,. <»i « s.— » n g 7> ^'°^ THE TWO DESTINIES a ^oc,m. BY SIR FRANCIS HASTINGS DOYLE, BART. THE TWO DESTINIES. THE TWO DESTINIES ^ lloem. BT SIR FRANCIS HASTINGS DOYLE, BART. FELLOW OF ALL SOULs' COLLEGE, OXFORD. LONDON SAUNDERS AND OTLEY, CONDUIT STREET. 1844. TO JAMES MILNES GASKELL, Esq. M.P. ETC. ETC. My dear Gaskell, As a tribute to the memory of one whose irreparable loss we lament in common, and as an ex- pression of my confident hope that the affectionate friendship which has long subsisted between us will continue undissolved andunweakened through future years, I have dedicated the accompanying poem to you. Believe me to be, my dear Gaskell, Ever most truly yours, Francis Hastings Doyle. 870417 PKEFACE. I DO not know that the following verses require any particular introduction ; at a time when the minds of men are daily awakening to the frightful inequa- lities of our social condition, it is probable that any attempt to make those inequalities still more dis- tinctly felt and appreciated will at least escape cen- sure. It may, however, be as well just to observe, that although the form of this little production is narrative, any interest which it may possess (inas- much as the events introduced into it have no other value than that of affording an opportunity to re- present successive states of feeling, and modifica- tions of character) is more akin to the drama. I merely mention this, because there are, or may bCj Viii PREFACE. sentiments and phrases in the poem, whicli having, as it seems to me, a dramatic propriety, I should yet hesitate to put forward as the expression of my own opinions. The only other thing which I wish to say is this : towards the close of the poem, the reader will come upon the description of a haunted house ; strange as it may seem, the verses in ques- tion faithfully relate, without exaggerating, the traditions of the place, and the eflfects produced thereby upon the wretched inhabitants, or rather prisoners, whom it contains; this fact I happen ac- cidentally to know, and it appeared to me to deserve the notice I have bestowed upon it, as a curious though painful example of the well ascertained truth, that superstitions which can liiid no other home, shelter themselves in minds which have been overthrown and ruined by wretchedness and vice. Sergeants' Iiui, May 9l/i, 1844. THE TWO DESTINIES. Over the swarming town, the moon Looks through the fresh bhic skies of June When, without rest, each fevered street Throbs to hot wheels and hurrying feet ; When all contending passions pour Their tides to swell the gathering roar, And the great life-flood rising high. Races in sparkling tumult by. Close-shrouding underneath the gleam And foam-flow of the upper stream, Each sullen pain that lurks and creeps, Dim-festering in its hideous deeps. B THE TWO DESTINIES. Yet, of the millions that if holds, Whom some vague common name enfolds. The working men, the mass, the poor, Flowing through time, for evermore — lAkc billows on a boundless sea. Each noteless in immensity ; Not one, but moves through earth alone, With a live spirit all his own, And dying, goes home to God on high — A separate immortality. Oh ! there arc hours when sickening thought Deems the proud present dearly bought. When all the mystic blessings given Out of world-covering widths of Heaven — All that man's work, since Nature's prime, Has lifted from the gulfs of time, Seem but as coloured meteors sent Across a rayless firmament. THE TWO DESTINIES. Which, ever as they brighten, wear A blacker background of despair ; So that prophetic shudderings roll Through the deep instincts of the soul. As if, on wings divine outspread, A curse were floating overhead. Long-gathered growths of pomp and power. Ere this, have vanished in an hour ; Yea, on that eve, when, led by fate. The Persian smote her brazen gate, By false Euphrates watched no more. And dashed her from her ancient place, As white o'ersweeping waves efface A footmark planted on the shore. Clear like to night, the moonbeam shone High over doomed Babylon. Hark to the merry music, wide It breaks from yonder house of pride ; b2 THE TWO DESTINIES. Where luxury spreads her purple sail To catch the fragrance of the gale, And all that wealth can do, is done To gild the minutes as they run. Each window of the perfumed room, Burns with keen splendour on the gloom ; The very air within it seems To flash and thrill with gem-like gleams ; Whilst a mock nature spreads and showers Voluptuous floods of breathing flowers ; And all things bright and soft combine, As if man's lot were yet divine ; And never touch of sin or care, Had power or thought to enter there. Meanwhile, around the stately gate Throng creatures of a separate fate ; Ilard-handcd men, whose life alway Is a sore wrestle with the day : THE TWO DESTINIES. 5 And dingy women, wrinkled deep. Through schemes for bread and shortcn'd sleep ; With no ungentle thought they come. Each by a quenchless instinct led From that gay place to carry home Bright pictures to his gloomy bed : By coarse unsmiling toil opprest, They thirst for beauty and for rest ; And therefore, half unconscious why, On each sweet face that passes by They fix a pleased and grateful eye. With no more envy than is given To sunset clouds, or stars in Heaven. At that proud door, distinct in all The clear blaze streaming through the hall, Met thus two girls, both young, both fair, Far, far apart in all beside — Fate for one moment brings them there 6 TUE TWO DESTIKIES. Together — then they sunder wide : Yet this was witnessed by the heart, Not vainly did they meet or part. With undulating gleam, the first Shot soft and sudden through the crowd, As mellowest summer lightnings burst, In throbbing radiance, from their cloud ; The second, brightly pale and worn. Drooped with meek face and hopeless eye. As the chill'd winter moon, at mom Sinks faintly in a frowning sky. One step — one look — ere it was done. Each with her separate thought passed on — Through all the music, mirth and light. Through the sweet flatterings of the night, The high-born maid, against her will, By that pale face was haunted still ; And felt her joyous spirits wane In dim disc^uictudc of pain, THE TWO DESTINIES. As half afraid, and half ashamed. Over that lot she turned to brood. And thoughts undreamt of and unnamed. Like living tilings, before her stood — Till vision like, the glittering vphole About her seemed to swim and roll. And a vague horror grasp'd her soul, As if those void imaginings Were memories faint of bygone things. As if she too had lived, within Familiar once to pain and sin ; And through her stainless heaven of youth, (All child-like purity and truth,) Black phantoms of that former state, Streamed back — A shadow and a weight ; So that by instinct passing through Whatever courteous speech was due. She, on the shining masque around, Gazed yet with wondering look profound. 8 TliE TWO DESTiiS'iEfci. Heard almost through the mirlhCul din, A viewless summons trampling in, And half ])rcparcd herself to go, As if the life she seemed to know, Were but a juggle and a show; And she, when from the cheated brain Ebbed off at length her visions vain. In some foul den of gloom and shame, Must wake — Another and the same ; Meshed in the secret nets of fear, Thus throbbed the heart of Edith Vcre. As from the light she turned a^^■ay, Not sueh the thoughts of Ellen Gray : To her no visioned griefs were sent, No fancies stirred her as she went ; Like a quenched fire, dust-choked, and bhnd. Blackened the dreary past behind, Before her, Life, without one ray, In hard and icy clearness lay ; THE TWO DESTINIES. 9 She knew, from her own blasted youth, What human hearts are born to bear, And had been slowly taught, by truth, The meaning of the word Despair ; So that, when through the breezy night. Like as to colour, age, and height. In her young freshness of delight, Edith swept by across her sight, A strange emotion flitted o'er Those pulses faint and low. And her white face was flushed once more. Yet not in envy. No ; She shook her head, and sadly smiled, In pity on the radiant child. That one so bright and sweetly frank. Should know so little of her state, As to have faith in life, and thank The dull cold irony of fate. Bent, in bad mirth, to make her think She had no bitter cup to drink; 1^ TIIE TWO DESTINIES. " Poor thing!" she sighed; « so gay, so fair, How much for her to learn and bear ! Trinkets and dress, the play, the hall— The Rest of death is worth them all ;" And a wild pleasure through her ran, As the hard rending cough began. Thus came together on that day, Sweet Edith Verc and Ellen Gray. IIow marvellous is man ! — how strange The colours of his ceaseless chan'i-e : Kings, empires, creeds, are rolled away. Faint scenes of a forgotten play ; Whilst that which seems thrown forth by chance, The form, the hair, the brow, the glance. Lives through the crush of ages, still Unconquercd and immutable ; Severing those alien creatures, though Gulfs wide and deep as ocean flow. THE TWO DESTINIES. 11 Still rests on each young form and face The beauty of their kindred race, That mystic stream, whose fountain-head Clouds of unfathomed eld o'erspread. With heavenlike eyes, and golden hair. After one type the damsels were, Recalling eras dim, amid The gloom of Saxon thickets hid, When two such maids, of even birth. Had trod with equal steps the earth. Yes, far along the night of time. We track the lovely of our clime ; Plunged in Hercynian forests hoar. Among each grim Teutonic horde. Such charms were honoured and adored. Uncounted age on age, before Our blue-eyed rovers of the north. In their world-wasting ships went forth ; And even now, through all between, 12 THE TWO DESTLNIES. So bright in these, that link is seen ; So ricli and pure their coininon hlood, Against diluting years has stood, That it is scarce too bold a dream Of them, as spirit twins, to deem That where through the vast halls of doom God works apart in circling gloom, And evermore by hands unknown The dice of life and death are thrown. Among the multitudes to be. When touched and named by destiny, The silent sea of souls who wait For their earth-garments at the gate. They, side by side, with necks of snow. Bright locks, and eyes of azure glow. From century to century Their white arms folded patiently. Through immemorial time hud stood. Shadows of German womanhood; THE TWO DESTINIES. 13 And well might Ellen wish that Fate Cycles ago had placed her there, To smile on a barbarian mate, With oak-leaves round her golden hair. Against each fierce invading clan To arm that stately hero-man, To weave all day the robes of white And purple that he loved to wear, Then listen, breathless with delight, To his returning tales at night — " How he struck dead — no comrade there — Slow winding up the caverned lair. Among her cubs, the growling bear — Or, face to face, within the wood, Against the frantic auroch stood," Hutted beneath some giant tree. Where the bird sang, and boomed the bee. With children ruddy at her knee ; — Or, earlier, in her virgin pride — 14 TIIE TWO DESTINIES. When kindred nations far and nigh Met at some old solemnity, And the grim gods, who ruled the wood, Had drunk their fill of hostile blood — Coming at perfumed eventide, Under cathedralled branches dim. To mingle in the dateless hymn. Which through the echoing forest glades Thrilled from a thousand fair-haired maids. Whose glossy tresses tremble bright. Whose eyes and teeth flash back the light, Whose blue-vein'd arms shine rosy white. Then mellow underneath the night, As round and round, now swift, now slow, Each in the undulating track First gleaming out, then deepening back, Their white and graceful eddyings go Past savage fires, wide-roaring through Vast rifts of oak and roots of yew. As still in wreathed windings new THE TWO DESTINIES. 15 They time their virgin movements true, Like some fresh river in its flow, To their own voices sweet and low ; Whilst the green foliage overhead Shoots into fits of glimmering red. Each blood-like gush that comes and goes Flung dark against the pale repose ^ Of moonlight openings through the wood, Bathed in a breathless silver flood. Yes, in primeval years, before This world was rotten at its core — Ere yet the doubtful gains, which press Heavy as death on earth's distress — On human hearts, against the sky. Like Babel domes, were reared so high — Each natural gift, each inborn grace, 'Mid the grey forests of the past. Had blossomed in its destined place, Lovely and fragrant to the last. 16 THE TWO DESTrXTES. Thus, had these two, in Teuton hordes— Whose history is the clash of swords- Been sisters worshipped by the bold, As were the German girls of old. Two rosebuds, wild and sweet, would then Have touched with joy the souls of men - Now delicately nurtured, one Drinks the sweet air, commands the sun, Absorbs for ever, as of right, The dew and freshness of delio-ht. Art- strengthened with unhoped for powers. Bursts into unimagined flowers, And crowds some cool luxurious room With clustered stars of burning bloom. Whilst the poor sister iloweret thrust Beneath thick clouds of cankering dust, Gnawn at the root by rat and snake. Whose teeth infect the wounds they make. And choked with charnel fogs, which break THE TWO DESTINIES. 17 Into foul splendours, but to fill The. air with venom deadlier still, By faint instinctive struggling tries To blossom into life — but dies, And no one misses aught, or knows The story of the blasted rose. Alas, for Ellen Gray ! — see Avhere On weary step she seeks her home. No Saxon maid, with braided hair. Along the bending woods to roam — But a weak friendless girl, whose feet Fall feebly on the echoing street, As up the narrow lampless lane She threads her way in patient pain. To pant for hours, with fevered breath. On her hard bed, and wish for death. Alas, for Ellen Gray !— to her Kind nature seemed to minister. 18 THE TWO DESTINIES. But all, that 'ncath a liapi)irr star, Hud llontod, like a glory spread Around that young and radiant head, To the world's thrall, and victim, were Sent as a mockery and a snare — Delusions ending in despair ! The beauty, which in Edith Verc Was as the master-key to life, Had been to Ellen, in her sphere, A cup, with luscious poison rife — The genius, which for Edith Verc Brightened the dusky wings of time, To Ellen, in her clouded prime, Burnt like alluring snare-fires, near Ship- swallowing surf, on coasts of fear - The softness, which on Edith Vere Waited, a magic shield and stay. Became, when leant upon, a spear To pierce the heart of Ellen Gray — THE TWO DESTINIES. 19 Surely when things like this befal, Death cannot be the end of all ! All civihzing arts we boast, Enlargement of the human mind — Science, and wealth, and taste refined ; What does the vaunted progress cost ? Alas for earth, if this great gain Have its foundations laid in pain — Pain of the poor, who suffer still. Let the world brighten as it will ; Nay, in the rough rude times of old, When steel had lordship over gold. Their life shewed better hope and plan. Stood straighter before God and man, Groan'd less, smiled more, and, on the whole. Sent into death a nobler soul. Is this the end, then, which the wise Have toil'd at through long centuries ? c2 20 THE TWO DESTINIES. What nro these poor ? to pain consign 'd — Do they? or who, make np mankind? Was it for others? or for them, That Christ laid down his diadem? This world has riddles hard and old — Old as itself— not mine the power Their inner meaning to unfold ; Still it is well, from hour to hour, To keep them clear in view, and know How blessedness contrasts with woe — How some are ever breathing here A bright and balmy atmosphere, Whilst others, through unbroken gloom, Unheeded falter to the tomb. Therefore my story I resume. And tell to all, who choose to hear. Of Ellen Gray and Edith Verc — How they were born, and lived, and died, Earth's joy and sorrow, side by side. THE TWO DESTINIES. 21 When, as a bright bird taking wing, The south-west wind rose up in spring — And, like things bounding in a race, Ahnond, and cherry-tree, and pear, Rushed into blossom everywhere ; Whilst, up and down, through WyndclifFe Chase, Wide-conquering hyacinths o'erthrew The fresh green grass with floods of blue, Till to the azure ground was given The look of a reflected heaven — Then, in a soft and clear May morn. The daughter of Lord Vere was born ; Loud were the cheers round Wyndcliffc Hall, MeiTy the bells from WyndcUfle Tower, And a deep breath of joy through all, To greet the coming of the flower. Out rolled the amber ale in seas Through fifty shouting villages ; Upon each breeze-swept hill afar oo TIIE TWO DESTINIES. Sliook, the night through, a crimson star. Round wliich to hearty merriment (Ungrudgcd for once) the peasants went, Whilst, full of rest, the mother smiled Upon her long unhoped-for child ; — Such, was the welcome ready here To meet on earth young Edith Vere. Four months before, a babe as fair Unclosed her blue eyes to the air. Where the great city's central roar Rose, muffled by the frost-fog hoar. Through which the sun, like one in i)ain. Fainted, a red receding stain. Whilst blackening snow, and squalid sleet, Dashed fiercely up the loaded street : To lay in weakness on her bed, A woman, wanted to earn bread. Whose elder children uncontrolled. From hunger cried, and shook with cold. THE TWO DESTINIES. 23 Whilst debts, like snakes, around them crept. And that poor mother, faint and chill, Under the ragged bed-clothes wept To see her needles idle still ; This was, into her home of clay, The advent of poor Ellen Gray. And how moved on her after youth ? We know, but will not feel, — in truth. Because with hard and sinewy hand Men bear great burthens up, and stand Asking their kind for work, not ruth. The comfortable heart disowns Sorrow unvouched by tears or moans, Contrives by pitying to obtain Fresh pleasure still, not wholesome pain, And shuts light out, lest it create Live pictures of the poor man's state, To mar with scenes too harsh and rude. 21 THE TWU DKSTlxNIES. The luxury of doing good. Around ihc infant Edith gleams A fairy land of golden dreams, New joys at hand, ere old arc gone, The babe in perfect faith moves on ; Her mother's blue and watchful eye Hangs o'er her, like a loving sky; A budding fault, in forethought mild, Is weeded from the unconscious child — A hap})y instinct of the heart. For evci^ fixed ere it depart — Whilst to each gliding hour is brought Some feeling new, or fruitful thought — For one there was, who, day by day, In grief or mirth, at task or play — Like some great artist bending o'er His work, which is to die no more — As she o'crlookcd, and viewed the whole. Kept breathing in a living soid. THE TWO DESTINIES. 25 How, meanwhile, might poor Ellen fare ? licr childhood, had no leave to wear That golden gloss of infanc}-, (Ever above her, hovering high. The shadow of grim want,) she stood. Forced from the first to do her best. And join the strivings of the rest. In the hard school of poverty, She learnt the price of fuel and food. And trusted to the roaring street. In baby phrase, on tottering feet. Haggled at stalls for bits of meat. Whilst mind and heart, of help bereft. To nature and to chance were left ; Wild flower and weed, could come and go, Vktue or vice, at will might grow ; Unchecked, unguided on its way Went the young step of Ellen Gray. 26 THE TWO DESTINIES. As wilh their lot they struggled well, Sickness on her brave father fell : He bore, for months, pain's utmost force In silence, as a thing of coui'se, Then, worn by ceaseless toil and strife, Died aged, in the prime of life, — That lengthened illness swallowed all, And when his spirit had found rest, Want, like a wolf, upon them pressed. Then came from school the girl's recal. The decent wish, that she should learn Right ways, and perfect to discern ; The mother's pride, to hear her child Praised as so docile and so mild. Melted, like wax in flame, away Before the hot need of the day. When bread grew scarce and fires gleamed rare. Her fingers were too deft to spare ; Some sorrow at the first there was, THE TWO DESTINIES. 27 Some hopeful talk, " The worst might pass ;" " Yes, next year better luck may bring ;" " She shall return there in the spring ;" But Poverty kept near the door, And, it was spoken of no more. Thus on with Time they passed, and lo ! As from its bud a rose outbreaks. The woman in the child awakes. To both alike, in fitful flow. Swift blushes waver to and fro, Warm looks of light gleam softly through Those humid orbs of deepening blue, Whilst the stirred pulses flock to fill The trembling voice, grown sweeter still ; Edith sits musing in proud halls. The book in vain her thought recals. From her slack hand the pencil falls. The sounds of music sink, or stray 28 THE TWO DESTINIES. Ill dreamy melodies away ; As through her breast new ieerings move, Foreshadowing the dawn of love- It eamc in peril and in power 1 How was she armed to meet that hour? Poor, poor indeed, as a defence Her bright and gracious innocence— No rampart round the heart ! no dream, That words are other than they seem ! A spirit credulous of good, And youthful life along the blood ! However sweet, to watch her bend Above some rosy child, with eyes Where thought and holy instinct blend. Whilst the bright creature in surprise, To her close clasping arms ensnared, With limpid glance, half pleased, half scared. Such depths of tenderness to sec, Sits hush'd, though happy, on her knce^ THE TWO DESTINIES. 29 However beautiful, to note The vague delicious dreams that float, Like warm mists of the golden south. O'er her clear brow, and virgin mouth ! Well was it for that maiden fair. That she was placed, where none might dare Slow schemes of hateful love to rear. Against the daughter of Lord Vere. For her fear nothing, shielded warm In her young bloom, she walks secure. The very thought of sin or harm. An exile from her spirit pure ; With faithful hearts to guide or aid. Not safer as a child she played. Her path with freshest flowers is strewn. And, as she dances on her way, Life opens like a rose in June — Fear not for her, but Ellen Gray. Alas, alas ! what lies before 30 THE TWO DESTINIES. Cannot be spoken without tears, Oh, that some lovinj^ hand of yore Had slain her in licr thoughtless years — That her first sleep, with faltering breath. Had dropped unbroken into death. Poor child ! no kind disease was sent. No rescuing blow or accident — Nought, such was mocking nature's will, Stopped her from growing lovelier still ; Nor heat nor cold, nor days half fed. Nor work in airless rooms by night. Nor stinted sleep, had power to shed Over her budding youth a blight ; As to exhausting toil she went, On her rich bloom long looks were bent ; Paid hags, with voices falsely sweet, Beset her in the shadowy street ; Bewailed her labours long and sore, Kept offering much, and promised more ; THE TWO DESTINIES. 31 Teased her with visions of dcHght, Pleasure all day, and rest at night ; Till breaking through their hands, she fled Tempted, and heated, home to bed ; But still she loved her mother, still. Mixed with vaQ-ue fears of soins: wrono-, A daughter's heart had kept her strong ; Her fancy wavered, but the will Stood fixed all duties to fulfil ; And yet the evil seed was sown. Vice wrestled with, not overthrown ; Her wild imagination flew To the delusive light, that lies Around hope's fleeting Paradise. Daily her tasks more odious grew. More keen her thirst for somethino: new : More frequent the bewildered start. Out from the beatings of her heart : Still she bore up against it all. Till her own virtues wrought her fall. 32 THE TWO DESTIXIES. The mother whom she loved p;rew weak, And suffered, llioiigh she did not speak ; Ilcr earnings failed them ; One by one, The few coarse goods they owned, were gone ; Those of a hard, yet happier, past, And of the dead they loved, went last ; Until the dingy bed was all, Between each black and tottering wall. Vainly they called the Leech in aid, Not harsh, but hurried, scarce he stayed. Through that chill gloom, without remorse. To speak these crushing words of course — " There is no help in drugs of mine, " She should have generous food and wine." Yes, generous food and wine — from whom? The brcadlcss woman heard her doom, And gazing, with one natural sigh. On her lone girl, prepared to die ; But Ellen, with suspended heart. , THE TWO DESTINIES. 33 Trembled from head to foot .apart. She strove to pray, but all in vain. Hot hands were clutching at her brain. And swift sharp impulse on her course Pressed her: A more than natural force. With reeling step and foce that burned She went— hours past, and she returned, Silent and white ; then, dearly bought. That generous food and wine she brouo-ht : Some tale she told, « that she had seen " Her clear soft eyes and gracious mien," Who with glad looks and gentle speech, Goes round to comfort and to teach ; Whilst hope and sunshine up each lane, Follow like handmaids in her train ; This soothed the first maternal fears. And for long hours the sufferer slept, Whilst from pale Ellen rolled slow tears, As if a marble statue wept. D 34 THE TWO des;ttntes. Time's lamp burns low ns ho p;rows old, Clouils heaped on clouds our life enfold; And for eternity we wait To light the gloomy depths of fate. There silent Ellen weeps — and here Thrills the sweet laugh of Edith Vere ; Whilst the rich woods round Wyndcliffc Ilall, Their leaflets to the breeze outfling, Gemm'd with the showery gleams of spring, Fresh pleasures, hopes unthought of, call, In flower-like loveliness arrayed. From their broad blooms, the radiant maid. Inheriting by right divine The sovereign fiefs of beauty's line ; To wield the sceptre Heaven bestows Over that spirit-realm, she goes. On to her goal she moves serene. As some bright ship, with placid motion, Glides slow at first, enthroned a queen THE TWO DESTINIES. 35 Upon the sunny fields of ocean ; Then, when the waves rise up in plaj, Pleased with the sparkle and the spray. Drinks at each bound fresh draughts of o-lee And revels in the roughening sea. Thus Edith sprung to meet the gale. Spread out to hope her joyous sail, Left calms behind, and found a home Amid life's glittering drifts of foam. As towered within her, hour by hour. The sense of beauty and of power, Her fancy kindled, and her mood Ripened to perfect womanhood : Too frank and guileless not to own A rapture hitherto unknown. When over all she felt from far. Her presence rising like a star. And even on the old and wise New youth reflected from her eyes. D 2 3G THE TAVO DESTINIES. Each hint and motion of her will The coldest hurried to I'uKil, Hung on her glances, to divine Tiic import of each look and sign, Gazed with intensest yearnings, where Passed the glad smile and golden hair, And toiled in secret to produce New pleasures for her honouring use ; Thus that gay girlhood in the sun, A river of clear joy, rolled on. A river of clear joy, on earth But few such fountains now have birth ! How has devoted Ellen sped At the dim pallet of the dead ? Yes, of the dead ! That passive form Is lent to darkness and the worm. In spite of daintier food ; in spite Of soul-bought gold, flung forth to save, God called her mother to the grave ; THE TWO DESTINIES. 37 Near her faint groans, night after night, Pale Ellen watched in wild affright. Saw the dark truth with prescient mind That idly struggled to be blind. Seemed oft to feel the icy breath Of deep, low whisperings from Death, And heard his slow step creeping in. Self-sacrificed (for what ?) to sin. Then came the end — and all alone, (Like sea-weed by the tide-mark strown,) She writhed unweeping on the floor, To reckless desolation thrown, Whilst without wants for evermore, On slept the body, mute and cold. For which her inner life she sold. And lo ! to fill its vacant place. Vice without object, vain disgrace, Heart-withering scorn, disease, despair, Raised up by sneering fiends, stood there; 38 THE TWO DESTINIES. '* Rise up, pale Ellen, time is brief; Not to the poor comes rest in grief — Rise, and go forth from this foul den, To haggle among hard-eyed men, With tiu;htened brain and chokinn; breath. About the dark details of death." Soon with that dismal labouring, Sounded the narrow chamber, where She trembled on the single chair, Whilst loud rough workers round it fling Their rattling tools, and screw and plane Scrape inwards on the aching brain. Then from its tressels, night and day, Glared the mean coffin, — then came all From which the wealthy shrink away, — Last the neglected funeral. Then first she wept, with sudden thrill The heart relaxed its gates, (until The fountain of their flow was spent,) THE TWO DESTINIES. 39 Beneath a storm of sorrow bent — And when from this calamity She lifted up her weary head, And looked around — no friend was nigh, The old dark room, the ragged bed, Shared e'en from childhood with the dead. Weighed on her quivering nen^es like lead. Whilst thoughts, that burned as fii-e, gave birth To wild wrath against Heaven and earth — So she went reckless, and became The inmate of a house of shame — " Yes, Ellen, well may shudderings deep At that foul portal o'er thee creep :" Common, nay vulgar, as all seems, It is a home of evil dreams ; There broods around, above, within, A cloud of immemorial sin. Shrieks baffled at the sullen door, Old bloodshed covered on the floor. 40 Tin: T>vo destinies. Whose ghastly essence, spread through all, Peers like a spirit from the wall. There lair young things, the prey of fate, Attired in mournful fmcry wait, And forth to careless vice are led j All tremulous with ghostly dread — No talk is theirs of ball or play, Of glittering gems, or dresses gay, Low whispering in their dreary room Of the dim peoplers of the gloom — How from the boundless vaults below, Mysterious lights and moanings flow — How some arc fated to behold The soldier slaughtered there of old — How the Greek girl, lured in, then slain. For double mercy screams in vain — Bodiless voices thrill the air. Footsteps unseen are on the stair. Wild shadows waver, day by day THE TWO DESTINIES. 41 Draining the shattered heart away, Whilst close about, within a call. Thronged London's busiest murmurs fall. And the black home of ghosts is rife With all the ocean sound of life. Soon these grim legends Ellen learnt, Until her vivid fancy burnt With a keen blaze, to madness near, The fever of unceasing fear — Locked in her narrow ro(tm apart. With white dry mouth, and hammering heart. She lay, and thirsted for the light. Yet trembled when it came, lest there Some shape, receding pale, should glare- Whatever filled up time and thought, No matter though a curse it brought— Vice — degradation — insult — shame. As respites from that withering dread — • 42 THE TWO DESTINIES. As a brief shelter from the dead — All, all were welcome, all became Points islanded in Hoods of flame — Hence soon must whelming frenzy blind Have ovcrswept and quenched her mind, But chance a timely exit gave, And bore her from that livmg grave. Star of the sullen Universe I Lone ray of ancient glory left To smile on man the heaven-bereft ! Sole conqueror of the primal curse Young love ! there came a fire from thee, That set the captive trembler free, Cheered by thy orb, a godlike force, That frail girl's melancholy course, Which pressed and pent, a buried river. Sought sunless seas, to rest for ever. In stifled wailings did not go, THE TWO DESTINIES. 43 One night-hidden, ice-caverncd flow, Beneath rock-rooted weights of snow ; If on its black breast, hght divine A moment gleamed, that light was thine. Her beauty and her touching grace, Which brightened even that hideous place, Moved one to speak of love — the word Fresh chords, and maiden pulses stirred. His wooings, hollow as they were, She took — as smothered lights drink air. And of her spirit young and sweet Poured out the treasures at his feet : Then, as from death-like insect sleeps, A living flash, the firefly leaps — Uprose she from those dungeon deeps. Her lover stood, arid smiled to see The outburst of that burning glee, By her heart fountains musing strayed. To watch them, as in flame they played, 44 THE TWU DKSllxNlES. Fed her on kindness, as you lling ►Seed U) a bird, that it may sing; And made a study, and a toy. Of the deep passion of her joy : But she, with full beatitude Through her whole weary soul imbued. Springs upwards like the lark in flight, Drunk with the sunrise of delight. The gloom behind, the eloud before Lie heavy on her heart no more, Nor past, nor future arc, amid The present's luminous va})our hid : The mere cessation of distress Is unimagined happiness — The comforts, common in our eyes. Thrill her with rapture and surprise. Long buried in foul streets, she goes To greet the violet and the rose. Rich lawns in blooming woods to grace. THE TWO DESTINIES. 45 And see great Nature, face to face ; In that new home, no words can tell How joys on joys her bosom swell, The everlasting youth of streams, The blossoms tremulous with bees, The grass shot through with wild-flower gleams, The bright red kinc among the trees. Across the silence of her soul In gusts of kindling music roll. As on jEolian harps at night The spirits of the air alight. " Forecast not, pause not, tremble not — " This is the wine cup of thy lot — " Drink, Ellen, drink, whilst o'er it set " The fiery freshness wrestles yet — " Drink, Ellen, drink ! — joy foams away, " Night follows fast the golden day, " This hour is thine — the next may shiver *' The chalice in thy grasp for ever." 46 THE TWO DESTINIES. As sweeps a silver cloud on liigl), Across the pathway of the sun, On Edith's daz/.linp; destiny The power of love his work begun : Tlic l)right youth of her virgin brow Pale shadows softening overflow, Around each step, each look, each tone, A veil of nameless grace is thrown. And her blue laughing eyes, less bright, Have deeper and more inward light. Beautiful Edith ! even for thee Life is not wholly ease and glee ; Beautiful Edith ! it is well. Tears are God's gift, and this alone Was wanting to complete the spell ! In sorrow, truth and worth are known. Through its dark night with orbs divine Stars of the soul arise and shine ; The hard light of prosperity THE TWO DESTINIES. 47 Makes the heart fountainless and dry, Even thy rich nature, as it burst Out with exulting bloom and growth, Might have been withered down and curst Into slow barrenness and drouth, Of stream, and herb, and fruit bereft, Nought but some mocking mirage left. Only by what they here endure Are men of their own hearts secure. Through grief, howe'er with anguish fraught, The knowledge of oneself is taught. That which in joy is bud or flower. Turns then to roots of living power ; So in thy lot, this chilling hour On thy pure spirit set a seal And was for thee — as ice to steel. Yes, Edith loved — no matter why Love yet is full of mystery. 48 THE TWO DESTINIES. I'crchancc between them viewless tics, And ante-natal sympathies Caused it to be — perchance in heaven Stars lilcnded, and to them was given From skies that live beyond the sun^ A power to bind two hearts in one. In both a sacred ardour burned, Ilcr deep love deeply was returned, Nor was his heart, or form, or blood, Unworthy of the maid he wooed — But richer suitors soon drew near. And kindly as he was. Lord Vere, Of love, when weighed with rank and gold, Thought in the temper of the old; The bitter hours dragged on their way. The night of thought — the feverish day With slow pale mists environing The blighted promise of the spring — Then first she felt, in sad surprise. THE TAYO DESTIXTES. 49 The curse of alienated eyes ; And wandered like a homeless thino- Restless and fliint, in search of ease. Through pleasures that now failed to please ; As if a river, in its flow, Whilst summer lights around it glow, Amid life's breathing warmth and flush, Should find its waters cease to gush ; And a dim frost-breath o'er it run. All else exulting in the sun ; So, in bright scenes she stood apart, With lonely coldness at her heart. But she had learnt that not in vain. We strive with weariness and pain ; And soon her languid heart rose up, Braced firmer by that bitter cup ; Tender and meek, but noble too. Heaven left her worthy tasks to do ; E 50 TIIE TWO DESTINIES. Each opening morn an object brought, And virgin dreams gave way to thoughts , All fluttering fickleness above, She made no compromise with love ; And yet passed on, star-eyed and straight, With Duty, through the narrow gate; The moody silence of her sire, Her lover's headlong fits of ire ; Ills great and small sunk down, subdued By the pure beauty of her mood. God gave her faith which nought could dim In human spirits, and in him, God gave her power to soothe and bless, And the calm strength of gentleness ; Whilst aiding influences sweet Out of the past like angels sprung. Some glance that touched, some pulse that beat, In memory's realm for ever young ; And heart-gifts, sown in silence deep, THE TWO DESTINIES. 51 The Dower of Heaven and Time, scarce known Until this fiery trial came on, Pain-kindled now, as out of sleep. To perfect form together leap ; So in the caves of mother earth When some rich jewel has travail-birth. Its scattered elemental mould Beneath compacting flame, is rolled Into indissoluble strength, And glows a deathless gem at length. Yes, hearts, through consummating fire. Ripened and nerved like gems, aspire ; But if too fierce and greedy heat Long on the embryo diamond beat. Its wrath to dregs and ashes may Calcine the sparkling seeds away ; Thus life dried up in Ellen Gray ! Ill-fated girl, she found her gleam e2 52 THE TWO DESTINIES. Of happiness a lying dream, And the grim Fntnre, kept at bay, More ravenous soon, along her track Roared in tumultuous hunger back ; Her \veary lover put her by In sated curiosity. A broken plaything, a machine Of which the wheels and springs are seen ; Such was she in his altered eye. Day after day she saw aghast, His languid kindness slackening fast ; Through the long night of sobs, and moans. The raging fire of jealousy Gnawed at the marrow of her bones; Wlienc'cr he left her, tears like rain Fell till she saw his face again ; And oft through wet and snow-blast frore, She tracked him from and to his door ; Dogging each step, that she might know Where and to whom he used to go ; THE TWO DESTINIES. 53 Enough, her charms, her love were vain, He left her, doubly now forlorn To curse the hour when she was born ; Full-sailed along a prosperous fate. He left her without thought or care. With breaking heart to alternate From mad excitement to despair. In that wild whirl out burst again, The half-quenched heat around her brain ; Her reason flickered — all but fled : She knew not what she did or said ; Hither and thither would she go Racked with fierce merriment, as though Into her veins had rushed a flood Of Fire, keeping time like blood ; Then for long spaces would she lie Settled in black despondency ; Then from herself strive hard to fly. Trampling with reckless feet the mud Of known and open infamy; 54 THE TWO DESTINIES. But this passed quickly ; at the end In Nature's self she found a friend ; As the worn springs of Ufe gave way, She felt in gradual decay, At length, from her \vorld-wearied heart. The fever and the llame depart — Then softness came, and gentler woe. Firm loathing of the hateful past — Effort towards God's high will to go — And yearnings to be pure at last. Thus her health failed her, and anon A burning thirst for death came on — Oft, in the living dreams of night, Iler mother kissed her, clothed in white — Oft, crowned with stars, before her moved The infant sister whom she loved — Whilst low sweet voices seemed to say, " Desolate creature, come away, " Think of the words vouchsafed from heaven. THE TWO DESTINIES. 55 " Those who love much, have much forgiv'n, " Thy sins, unselfish soul, shall grow " Radiant as suns, and white as snow, " Let thy prayers only be prefen'cd " To him, according to whose word, " Sounds yet among the sons of men, " The name of Mary Magdalen ;" Thus, with life's leaf just on the fall, Ellen saw Edith at the ball. By her proud sire permitted now Love duty-hidden to avow. Thither, to meet the one most dear. Went Edith, daughter of Lord Vere ; With smiles and glances archly coy. After short sorrow, full of joy. Yet though her smiles shone out once more. Her heart was other than before. Past grief, pressed down by self-control. 56 TJIE TWO DESTINIKS. Deepened the channels of her soul, Not now a child, with reverent awe The mystery dread of life she saw, And felt a solemn instinct draw llcr spirit towards that crowd, for whom There seems no shelter but the tomb ; So that pale Ellen's wasted form Rushed on her like a summer storm. And though they never met again, Ilcr memory kept the impress true Of that faint step, and look of pain Under gold curls and eyes of blue ; Ilencc many, whilst sweet Ellen lay Released from all unhappincss. Had cause, through after years, to bless The silent greeting of that day — So right that witness in the heart, " Not vainly do ye meet and part." THE TWO DESTINIES. 57 Happily now lived Edith Vere, And Ellen's earthly end drew near, Not comfortless, friends early known Found her dying, homeless, and alone ; ♦ They had been harsh at first, and torn Her spirit with their clamorous scorn ; Still be not sudden to condemn, For character was bread to them. To their dim hearths a tainted fame Brought penury no less than shame — Yet when she sunk beneath the load. Their honest English hearts outflowed — They lulled her pain, they soothed her mind, Softly and delicately kind. Till, praying with her latest breath, She brightened gently into death. A week passed on — half sad, half gaj^ Blushed Edith on her wedding day ; 58 THE TWO DESTINIES. The rites were done — with nought to sever, She was her lover's own for ever — Yet, duly given the parting kiss, As she, to sure and growing bliss Went in calm joy, each fiery horse - ♦ Was checked one moment in its course : A parish coffin crossed her way — Within it — slumbered Ellen Gra}' — Bound for a calm and tearless shore, The sorrow of a life was o'er : There — wealth and love ; here — death and rest ; None know but God which lot was best. THE END. T. C. Savill, Printer, 1 07, St. MarHn's-lanc. UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY Los Angeles This book is DUE on the last date stami: ipcdbdoW-O ^fp24 m>f tn REC'O tWHW JUW 9)886 DEC 13 1988 Form L9-50m-7,'54(5990;444 THE UI5RARY UJVrVBItWLTY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY AA 000 379 250 4 n