Ill Ex Libris C. K. OGDEN " ■ THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES ■ w m Bb « ■ VOICES FROM THE HOLY SEPULCHRE &c. BY THE SAME AUTHOR. THE VISION OF THE EUCHARIST, and other Poems. Crown 8vo. 5$. A CHRISTMAS FAGGOT. Small crown Svo. 5J. OUR CATHOLIC INHERITANCE IN THE LARGER HOPE. Crown 8vo. is. 6d. WAGNER'S PARSIFAL. A Study. Fcp. 8vo. is. 6d. London: KEGAN PAUL, TRENCH, & CO. VOICES FROM THE HOLY SEPULCHRE AND OTHER POEMS BY ALFRED GURNEY, M.A. vicar of s. Barnabas', pimlico AUTHOR OF ' A CHRISTMAS FAGGOT ' ETC. LONDON KEGAN PAUL, TRENCH, & CO., i PATERNOSTER SQUARE 1889 ( The rights of translation and of reproduction are reserved) 4-7.29 $4-1 v^ TO THE DEAR MEMORY EDMUND GURNEY WITH A BROTHER'S LOVE A i 1 A £2 C U r ? PREFACE The WELCOME given to 'A Christmas Faggot' encourages me to publish a few more poems. The present is a sister-volume to that, and my wish has been that its dominant note might be an echo, true however faint, of the Easter ' Alleluia ! ' My thanks are again due to my friend Mr. SHIELDS for the frontispiece — another of his lovely picture-poems. CONTENTS I'AGK VOICES FROM THE HOLY SEPULCHRE: I. The Gospel of the Resurrection . . i II. A Message 6 III. An Appeal 1 1 IV. A Carol 14 HOMEWARD BOUND 1 8 LIFE'S TRANSFIGURATION 20 GLIMPSES 23 UNDERTONES 25 FOOTPRINTS ON THE ATLANTIC 3 1 SPAIN'S CRUSADE 36 a CONTEXTS PAGE THE MOUNTAIN OF THE HOUSE OF THE LORD. . 39 THE NEW WORLD 41 RALPH WALDO EMERSON 44 HENRI FREDERIC AMIEL 46 JOHN HENRY NEWMAN 48 SALUTATIONS : I. In the Name of the God of Peace . . 50 II. In the Name of the God of Hope. . 52 CATHOLIC ASSURANCE 54 DUALITY 5° TO LILIAN 58 TO STELLA 6l SUNDRY KINDS OF DEATH . . . ... 63 IN MEMORY OF JUNE, 1SS7 71 BARROW COURT 77 CONTENTS xi PAGE ROMSEY ABBEY 83 CHAPEL OF THE HOLY SEPULCHRE, S. BARNABAS', PIMLICO 88 'PARSIFAL' 93 A CHRISTMAS FIRESIDE 96 PROLOGUE TO A CHRISTMAS PLAY .... 98 A CHRISTMAS CAROL, IN TWO PARTS AND A CON- CLUSION : I. Concerning Love 104 II. Concerning Jesus ..... 107 III. Concerning Life no THE END Il6 NOTES Il8 Alleluia ! Alleluia ! Alleluia ! ' Opens a Door in Heaven ; From skies of glass A Jacob's ladder falls On greening grass, And o'er the mountain-walls Young Angels pass.' — Tennyson. ' Waft of soul's wing ! What lies above ? Sunshine and Love, Skyblue and Spring ! ' — Browning. ' Lost, lost are all our losses ; Love set for ever free ; The full life heaves and tosses Like an eternal sea ! One endless living story ! One poem spread abroad ! And the sun of all our glory Is the countenance of God. ' — Nova/is. ' Rise, heart ; thy Lord is risen. Sing his praise Without delays, Who takes thee by the hand that thou likewise With him mayst rise.' George Herbert. ' My Beloved spake and said unto me, Rise up, my love, my fair one, and come away. For, lo, the Winter is past, the rain is over and gone ; the flowers appear on the earth ; the time of the singing of birds is come, and the voice of the turtle is heard in our land. The fig tree putteth forth her green figs and the vines with the tender grape give a good smell. Arise, my love, my fair one, and come away.'— Solomon's Song. VOICES FROM THE HOLY SEPULCHRE I. THE GOSPEL OF THE RESURRECTION. THE Sleeper from His bed, Uplifts His Royal Head, His Footfall is sweet music to the ear Of angels who discern The signs of His Return, While Rome's all-conquering soldiers quake with fear. B VOICES FROM THE HOLY SEPULCHRE Like dead men they become Those veterans of Rome, Trembles the world to which such tools belong ; All powerless their strength, A Righteous King at length Uplifts the Sceptre that alone is strong »g- The women-mourners weep, They know not death is sleep, A sleep ordained the sleeper to renew ; Yet, spite of their despair, Sweet ointments they prepare, One service still remains for them to do. VOICES FROM THE HOLY SEPULCHRE 3 Sad, through the garden-gloom, They hasten to the Tomb, The grave wherein their hopes all buried lie ; And find with glad dismay The great stone rolled away ; Death and despair — these are the things that die. And is He then alive ? And may their hopes revive ? His Easter greeting falls upon their ear ; Ah yes ! they know that voice, Well may their hearts rejoice, By love possest, the love that conquers fear. b 2 4 VOICES FROM THE HOLY SEPULCHRE All fears be put to flight ! 'T is death that dies outright — Nor may the darkness with the light compete ; The stone on every tomb Is ready to become A preacher's pulpit, and an angel's seat. Now earth with all its blooms Its music, its perfumes, God's cloister is, encompassing the shrine Where men and angels meet The Risen Lord to greet, Whose Presence turns earth's water into wine. VOICES FROM THE HOLY SEPULCHRE 5 They camp on holy ground, They pitch their tents around The sheltering Pavilion of their King ; The love-feast is begun Of God and man at one ; The Morning Stars uplift their voice and sing. Nuremberg : 1889. 6 VOICES FROM THE HOLY SEPULCHRE II. A MESSAGE. Wherever Christians lay their dead Christ's Sepulchre they build ; Death is for them interpreted, And hope not unfulfilled. The highest, brightest hopes alone Have reason on their side ; 'T is death itself that dies, o'erthrown By Jesus Crucified. VOICES FROM THE HOLY SEPULCHRE 7 He tasted it ; its impotence To harm Him was made plain ; So ended was the long suspense, The fear of death was slain. Beyond the tomb mine eyes have gazed, And from the other side I heard a voice (may God be praised !) A voice that testified : — ' The Conqueror, His Promise kept, Has put an end to strife ; The one you loved, the one you wept, Has faded into life. 8 VOICES FROM THE HOLY SEPULCHRE ' The face has vanished ; not the grace That made the face a shrine, Where loyal love was wont to trace A signature divine. ' The presence seems a thing withdrawn ; In truth it is not so ; More tender than the opening dawn Is evening's afterglow. ' If flowers fade, by heart and hand The gift shall be renewed ; Ah, then shall lovers understand Love's full beatitude ! VOICES FROM THE HOLY SEPULCHRE 9 ' Each loss shall be at last retrieved, And each reverse reversed, And blithe shall be each heart bereaved More blithe than at the first — ' When marriage-bells again ring out A bridal morn to greet ; And Angels and Archangels shout, As parted lovers meet.' We turn to gain all seeming loss If but His Rod be kissed, Who in the shadow of the Cross Ordained the Eucharist. io VOICES FROM THE HOLY SEPULCHRE Whenever Christians mourn their dead They stand Christ's Tomb beside, There see they death interpreted, Transfigured, glorified ! VOICES FROM THE HOLY SEPULCHRE i III. AN APPEAL. HARK to the Bride's — the Spirit's — call ! Accomplished is Love's enterprise ; Man's doom is not to rise and fall, He dies to live, he falls to rise. Let love to faith her succour bring ; With beating heart and kindling eye, Let hope lift up her voice and sing The song that is a prophecy. 12 VOICES FROM THE HOLY SEPULCHRE O gather, ye who know Him not, The Sepulchre of Christ around, Where Firstfruits in a small seed-plot The patient Husbandman has found. Come, see the place where Jesus lay For evermore untenanted ; Its emptiness proclaims alway That death henceforth is captive led. Behold the Tomb whence Jesus rose, Triumphant o'er the Gates of Hell ; Still mighty to subdue His foes, Through patient love invincible. VOICES FROM THE HOLY SEPULCHRE 13 Mark how from age to age His Bride Uplifts that yearning heart of hers, And, dauntless, keeps her watch beside Earth's still unopened sepulchres. Upon her prayers His Blessing waits Till all their captives are set free ; Her soaring hope anticipates His death-destroying Victory. A Shepherd He who wearies not Of seeking till the lost are found ; A Sower of each barren spot, Till the whole earth be harvest-ground. Neuhausen : 1889. i4 VOICES FROM THE HOLY SEPULCHRE IV. A CAROL. Brightly burn the tapers tall, High the fragrant censer swings, Hasten to the Banquet-hall, Hark ! what news the Angel brings ! Jesus, rising, raises all On His Easter-wings. Open is the Tomb to-day, Empty is the charnel-bed ; VOICES FROM THE HOLY SEPULCHRE 15 See the place where Jesus lay, He is risen as He said ; Well He knows the homeward way, ' Free among the dead.' Birds their happy music make, Flowers blossom at His feet ; All creation seems to wake With a laughter soft and sweet ; Ne'er did morn so blithely break Weeping eyes to greet. Ah ! it is no idle tale Women to Apostles tell ; 1 6 VOICES FROM THE HOLY SEPULCHRE They have heard the sweet ' All hail ' In a voice remembered well. Mighty is He to prevail Over death and hell. Mighty is He to console, Mighty to emancipate, Strong to make the sick heart whole, Strong to cleanse and consecrate, Whose Uprising makes life's goal Heaven's open gate. Now may all His children say ' Death is disinherited ' ; VOICES FROM THE HOLY SEPULCHRE 17 Christ, the new and living Way, Christ, the true and living Bread, Proudly we proclaim to-day ' Firstborn from the Dead ! ' Brightly burn the tapers tall, High the fragrant censer swings, Angels crowd the Banquet-hall, Holy Church in triumph sings ; 'T is the crowning Festival Of the King of Kings. S. Barnabas' : Easter Day, 1888. i8 HOMEWARD BOUND. Up the Mount of Aspiration, For our native highlands bound, Climb we ; only at the summit May a resting-place be found, Where, above this shifting cloudland, Love is throned and crowned. For that summit is the Centre, And that throne the Mercy-seat ; HOMEWARD BOUND 19 All who in His Footsteps follow, Broken hearts and bleeding feet, There at length shall rest securely, There at length shall meet. Blessed are the swift forerunners, Leaders of our pilgrim band ; Faint, but in their steps pursuing, We with them at length shall stand, Recreated, reunited, In our Fatherland. Ascension Day, 1SS5. c 2 20 LIFE'S TRA NSFIG URA TIOX. ' Mow merrily the throstle sings, The sun is bright, the world is gay ;— For me the year has lost its May, And joy and hope are banished things.' T was thus I sang long years ago ; My life a wreck, my song a sigh ; I did not know the wish to die Is born of death, as now I know. LIFE'S TRANSFIGURATION 21 For love, sore threatened, still survives ; A swimmer on a stormy sea, Intrepid, resolute, is he, More vigorous the more he strives. Kind sorrow's consecrating hands Were laid upon my head ; 't wa-; well ; Life issues from a broken shell, The stricken heart alone expands. Life issues from a buried seed ; The sigh is prelude to the song ; The lover needs, to make him strong, The discipline by love decreed. LIFE 'S TRANSFIG URA II ON The chastisement that death ordains Must be by love interpreted ; Who bends the knee and bows the head On high is lifted up and reigns. Love's feast a vigil must precede ; The coming rapture who can tell, The offspring of the broken shell, The outcome of the buried seed ? The silent throstle folds her wings, The sun has set, the world grows grey ; But all the year for me is May, My heart for very gladness sings. Bayre'JTH : Feast of the Transfiguration, 1S89. GLIMPSES. SOMETIMES my prisoned spirit throws Its fetters off, my heart expands, The golden gate half open stands, The woven veil transparent grows. The music wafted from above Falls softly on half-opened ears, And, ere the Vision disappears, I almost see the Face I love. 24 GLIMPSES Enough ! in patience let me wait, Expecting till it come again ; Then may the veil be rent in twain ! Then may I pass the open gate ! Switzerland : 18S9. 25 UNDERTONES. (To E. M. G.) 'T IS a loud world, a noisy throng : Loud are the voices of the crowd, Loud are .the market-cries, and loud The soldiers' march, the feasters' song. But other sounds there are that bring A softer music to the ear Opened by sympathy to hear The world's pathetic whispering. 26 UNDERTONES I pray you, mark the undertones : Soft is the mother's lullaby, Gentle the love-lorn maiden's sigh, And faint the sick man's dying moans. A low and humble voice is theirs Who in the place of penance kneel, And all their shame and grief reveal With tears more eloquent than prayers. How wondrously a still small voice, Charged with a consecrating word, Makes its sublime announcement heard, While silent worshippers rejoice. UNDERTONES The nuptial vows of man and maid Are softly spoken, as they stand Before God's Altar, and her hand All silently in his is laid. The kiss that only two can hear — Is any sound more soft than this ? Yes, softer than the lovers' kiss, Is the lone widow's falling tear. And softer sounds perchance than these Visit the ears of dying men, The Angels' welcome, — soft as when Sweet zephyrs kiss the Summer seas. 2 8 UNDERTONES The undertones of Nature keep Their magic secret ; sun and star And wind and wave, all vocal are, Each flower sings itself to sleep. Each month brings whispers of its own ; Soft is the rain-cloud's overflow, And soft a footfall on the snow, Each season has its undertone. To those who fondly study her Nature is ever musical, Her sweetest notes the softest fall, The sea-shell is a whisperer. UNDERTONES Her music, day by day renewed, Is oftentimes an undersong, And echoes faint the spell prolong, With silence for an interlude. The world is full of loud debate In senate, market-place and street, Deaf to the whispers sad and sweet, The voices inarticulate. Oh, for a sympathetic ear, Companion to a heart that feels ! A mystery itself reveals In all we see, in all we hear. UNDERTONES And, if there be one voice alone Whose music thrills you through and through, The charm that so entrances you, Say, is it not an undertone ? SCHAFFHAUSEN : 1889. FOOTPRINTS ON THE ATLANTIC. FOOTPRINTS on the broad Atlantic Let us reverently trace ; Pilgrim-footsteps moving westward, Men of every creed and race, Seeking, till the restless waters Yield a resting place. Westward moves the great procession, Westward still, whate'er befall ; 32 FOOTPRINTS ON THE ATLANTIC So the father of the faithful Shaped his course, for God did call ; Westward rode the Magi, westward Swelled the sails of Paul. Through long years men questioned, wondered, (Hope must doubt and fear outrun), Hide the western waves a treasure Buried 'neath the setting sun ? Came at length the great Adventure, And the prize was won ! By a phantom fleet encompassed, Steer we for the fabled West ; FOOTPRINTS ON THE ATLANTIC jj From the foremost prow Columbus, Hope-enkindled, faith-possest, Points us forward, self-devoted To a sacred quest. 1 Steal across the sea at sundown Fragments of a sacred song ; 'T is the vesper hymn to Mary, Heard the winds and waves among, Sung by Spanish sailors ; sea-nymphs Still the strain prolong. England's heroes quickly follow, And the English flag is seen 1 See Note A. I) 34 FOOTPRINTS ON THE ATLANTIC Traversing the stormy waters Which 'twixt two worlds intervene, Claiming the discovered country For her virgin-queen. In their wake another vessel Sails, a blossom on the wave ; ' Exiles are the hearts that man her, Pilgrim- fathers, stern and brave, Making for a land of freedom, Or a salt sea grave. Voices raised in loud defiance, On Atlantic breezes borne, 1 The ' Mayflower. ' FOOTPRINTS ON THE ATLANTIC J3 Tell of strife ; the quarrel ended, Breaks at length a brighter morn ; Child and mother face each other, Love subduing scorn. Footprints on the broad Atlantic, Be it yours and mine to trace ; Westward still the great procession Travels ; — one in creed and race, May America and England Evermore embrace ! On board the ' Aurania ' : August, 1885. 1. 2 36 SPAIN'S CRUSADES ' Castilian gentlemen Choose not their task, they choose to do it well.' George Eliot, Spanish Gypsy. THOUGH many thousand miles away, In this old city, once again Is wafted to my ears to-day A whisper from the shores of Spain. The stars and stripes have disappeared ; A prouder banner is unfurled, The standard once renowned and feared On battle-fields of the old world. 1 See Note B. SPAIN'S CRUSADE 37 Another Santa Fe I see, And — fairest pageant ever seen — Spain's noblest, proudest chivalry Marshalled around their King and Queen. Up to Granada's walls they ride, Met by the vanquished Moorish King ; Behind Abdallah open wide The gates to Christians entering. Breaks his sad heart with one last sigh ; Ne'er shall the Crescent rise again ; The Alhambra Towers lift on high The Cross of Christ, the flag of Spain. 38 SPAIN'S CRUSADE Te Deum is the triumph-song Sung by the prostrate victor-host, A burst of music loud and long, To Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. Thus, to her high commission true, Did Spain her destiny fulfil ; Her knights were born this work to do, Her ladies are crusaders still. Santa Ft, New Mexico: 1885. 39 THE MOUNTAIN OF THE HOUSE OF THE LORD. ' In the last days it shall come to pass that the mountain of the House of the Lord shall be established in the top of the mountains, and it shall be exalted above the hills ; and people shall flow unto it.' GOD'S House a lofty mountain is, A holy, happy Home, wherein His sons and daughters taste the bliss Of life that knows no sin. Established is this citadel, The sanctuary of truth and grace ; Gathered therein Love's vassals dwell, Oh, 'tis a wealthy place ! 4o THE HOUSE OF THE LORD God's handiwork ! exalted high, Of Love's own loveliness fulfilled ; Mighty is He to beautify What He alone can build. God's mountain-top ! the nations flow Through gates that ever open stand ; Upward is ever homeward ; so Gain we our Fatherland. Here in this beauty-haunted spot, Discerning ' shadows of the True,' I pluck this one forget-me-not, And give it, friend, to you. Manitou, Colorado: 1885. 4i THE NEW WORLD. 1 That new world which is the old.' Tennyson. A NEW world did Columbus find ? Ah ! 't is not so that world is found ; God's golden harvest-sheaves who bind Are tillers of another ground. No new world like the old we need ; One thing suffices — one alone, A garnered world-harvest from seed The wounded Hands of Christ have sown. 42 THE NEW WO RED No earthly Paradise avails, No Eldorado in the West ; The Spirit's Breath must fill their sails Who seek the Highlands of the Blest. By stripes is healing wrought, and stars Point ever to a central Sun ; He flies the conquering flag, whose scars, Transfigured, speak of Victory won. O Royal Heart, Thy Kingdom come ! All else may change ; all else may go : Not eastward, westward, is our Home, But onward, upward: — even so ! THE NEW WORLD 43 One Sign alone is love-designed, God's Evergreen, the Eternal Rood ; Happy the home-seekers who find Its meaning plain — a world renewed \ Off the coast of Ireland : November^ 1885. 44 RALPH WALDO EMERSON. ' Happiness in labour, righteousness, and veracity ; in all the life of the spirit ; happiness and eternal hope ; — that was Emerson's gospel.' — Matthew Arnold. Not with the seers his niche, nor where Wisdom enshrined uplifts her torch ; But in the balmy, sunlit air Of Truth's wide open temple-porch. Hers was his harp ; his heart was hers ; And hence his mission cannot fail, Interpreting the characters Inwoven on the outer veil. RALPH WALDO EMERSON 45 'T was hidden manna that he sought, His pilgrimage was one ascent ; With mystery and meaning fraught To him was Nature's sacrament. May men to larger stature grow, May greener laurels still be won ; Yet flowers ever fresh shall blow Upon the grave of Emerson. California : 1885. 4 6 HENRI FREDERIC AMIEL. ' Notre ami etait de ceux qu'a touches de son aile 1'ange des visions ineffables et des divines tristesses.' — Edmond Scherer. O BROTHER-SOUL! how well thy moods I know, Thy yearnings strong, thy scruples manifold, By doubt made timid, and by love made bold ; With pain I mark thy deep heart's overflow, Pain born of sympathy ; I seem to go Along thy shadowed path, thy hand to hold, With fears and hopes commingled, uncontrolled, A baffled wanderer in a world of snow. HENRI FREDERIC AMIEL 47 But white that world, and with horizons vast ; And white thy soul with wistful eyes that scan The heights, the depths, the Future and the Past, The Names of God, the destinies of man ; Sweet tearful eyes ! they shall be blithe at last, When Love concludes and crowns what Love began. Bayreuth : 1889. 4 8 JOHN HENRY NEWMAN. Forgive me that I love you as I do.' Aubrey de Vere. Have I not loved thee ? felt the magic spell Of eloquence so sober and so sweet, Of thought so subtle, knowledge so complete, Profound, intuitive, of things that dwell Far-hidden in the soul's most secret cell, Where thought and feeling at their sources meet, And Conscience sits upon her royal seat, Whose golden sceptre is a sword as well ? JOHN HENRY NEWMAN 49 ' Father ' I fain would call thee, but a chill, Heartfelt, arrests me if I call thee so ; That sacred name my lips must still forego, Yet all the more my heart shall love thee still. With thee I bend the knees of heart and will ; How I have loved thee, thou wilt one day know. Switzerland : 1889. E 5o SALUTATIONS. I. IN THE NAME OF THE GOD OF PEACE. (To Edward, Lord Bishop of Lincoln.) PEACE ! is it not the Master's own bequest ? The peace-makers are blessed evermore ; Their home they have within the heavenly door. But here their work, where all is still unrest. This be thy lovely task — at love's behest, The Pentecostal music to restore ; Babel is doomed, but it must fall before Jerusalem in peace can be possest. SALUTATIONS 51 Thy pastoral heart, — so burdened with the care Of struggling souls thou fain wouldst fold and feed, With Apostolic toil and strenuous prayer So exercised, — this special cross must bear, To suffer for the Church's ancient Creed ; Peace-loving hearts are still the hearts that bleed. Bayreuth : Feast of the Holy Name, 1889. E 2 SALUTATIONS II. IN THE NAME OF THE GOD OF HOPE. A TRUCE to sickly doubt, and fear's suspense ! Now bring we gold and frankincense and myrrh To Him, of love, of life, the Cherisher, With homage of undoubting confidence. Be love its own sufficient recompense ; The darkest night is day's mute harbinger ; The trusting soul, when sorrow visits her, Has God —yea, God Himself— for her defence. SALUTATIONS 53 My heart more weary is than weary feet, And closed and distant seems the heavenly door, Foundations tremble that seemed firm before. — A truce to doubt ! — Beloved, 't will be sweet, With hearts made true and tender to the core, Upon the ramparts of God's House to meet. July, 1889. 54 CATHOLIC ASSURANCE. COURAGE ! my soul, possess thyself in peace ; Though love grows cold, and few there be who wait With eyes uplifted to the heavenly gate, Expecting till Christ's advent brings release ; Though love-denying heresies increase, Surrender not thy hope, anticipate His sure Return, whose word shall recreate A world grown old, and bid contention cease. CATHOLIC ASSURANCE 55 Thine ear, so sorely wounded with the strife Of clamorous tongues, one touch of His can heal, Whose hasty servant at the Paschal meal, The feast of love, had armed him with a knife, And struck at Malchus with misguided zeal ; Rebuked by Him who gives — who is — the Life. Nuremberg: 1889. 56 DUALITY. ' I sleep, but my heart waketh.' My soul's companion has a keener sense, More truly marks, more clearly registers, The thing I see, the thought that in me stirs ; She will inform me when I journey hence, What means my life's turmoil, — experience Strangely the same, yet not the same, as hers. For still my slumbering consciousness defers Its answer to the questions ' why ' and ' whence.' DUALITY 57 Indweller ! though so distant seems the goal, Not uncompanioned shall my pilgrim-soul Its via dolorosa still pursue ; Self-questioning, when I my life review, From fragments seeking to forecast the whole, I find myself in colloquy with you. 1 Nuremberg : 1889. 1 See Note C. 58 TO LILIAN. ' Every beloved object is the centre of a paradise.' — Novalis. LOVE puts a sceptre in your hand, Upon your head a crown ; you stand The queen of an enchanted land. Methinks your soldier-lover, who Ne'er trembled when his sword he drew, Will tremble when he kisses you. TO LILIAN 59 So proud upon his breast to wear, Among the stars that sparkle there, A lily, finding it more fair. The sword his hand has learnt to wield On many a well-fought battle-field Your lips will kiss — (so Lancelot's shield Was fondled by ' the lily-maid,' A sister-lily !) — not afraid Of blood-stains on a soldier's blade. Two worlds you shall together win, Glory without and grace within ; A hero weds a heroine. 6o TO LILIAN A soldier's life is dedicate ; Strong angel-guardians with you wait To crown him at a golden gate — The gate of Honour, — brave and true And tender all who ride therethrough ; Such may your lover be to you ! Then in the happy years to come, Where'er your feet may chance to roam, Your heart in his shall find a home. Thus heart in heart and hand in hand, Love shall increase, and life expand ; Before you lies the Promised Land ! Michaelmas, iSSS. 6i TO STELLA. ' Innocence hath privilege in her To dignify arch looks, and laughing eyes.' Wordsworth. 'T IS a vision 1 have seen — Spring with magic powers Turns a wintry landscape green, Makes a world of flowers. Laughs a golden crocus there, Summer's glow forestalling ; Smiles a snowdrop pale and fair, Winter's gleam recalling. 62 TO STELLA Happy nurslings of the Spring Dance in leafy bowers ; Sing the song the fairies sing — ' Wonderland is ours.' In the sky the flowers are Fairer still and sweeter ; Shines for me a rosy star, And I come to greet her. Smiles for me a dimpled face Bashfully audacious, Centre of a world of grace, — Stella the all-gracious ! Easter, 18S9. 63 SUNDRY KINDS OF DEATH. FOUR PAGES OF AN OLD ALBUM. FIRST PAGE. Laura. You see a lady there whose hand So lightly touched the sweet guitar, So daintily ; I oft would stand, — Her casement and the evening star Above me, while those trembling notes Made soft response to words of mine ; Ah, still across my memory floats That face ! 'T were folly to repine. 64 SUNDRY KINDS OF DEATH But still, when toasts go gaily round, I pledge her reverently, and try, Aroused by the familiar sound, To stifle the half-uttered sigh. Ah ! there be sundry kinds of death, Each with its own significance ; But in the end it quickeneth To life — to sweeter life perchance. SUNDRY KINDS OF DEATH 65 SECOND PAGE. Lionel. See here a college friend of mine, His the best joke, the blithest song ; I told him once across the wine The thing that he had done was wrong. I could not let the matter pass, I spoke my mind, I saw him wince, He answered roughly, and alas ! No words have passed between us since, F 66 SUNDRY KINDS OF DEATH I often meet him in the street, His eyes meet mine, those handsome eyes, That used to flash their welcome, meet My own, and will not recognise. Ah ! there be sundry kinds of death, The vital flame burns up and sinks ; But in the end it quickeneth To life — to truer life methinks. SUNDRY KINDS OF DEATH 67 THIRD PAGE. Lancelot. But sweeter eyes this page adorn,. Another friend of long ago ; I love him with a. love forlorn, He little knows I love him so. A bosom friend ! his counsel wise Was like a staff to lean upon ; Till, friendly rivals, for one prize We both competed, and I won. F 2: 68 SUNDRY KINDS OF DEATH He vanished ; on my marriage-day A foreign letter made me start ; It told me he had gone away For ever, with a broken heart. Ah ! there be sundry kinds of death, It falls upon the hopes of youth ; But in the end it quickeneth To life — to fuller life in sooth. SUNDRY KINDS OF DEATH 69 FOURTH PAGE. Leon ore. THERE smiles my queen, the loveliest, Her cheeks aflame with two bright spots That tell her story ; at her breast Nestle some white forget-me-nots. I keep the little glove, but oh ! The hand that wore it never more Shall link with mine, — alone I go The way that she has gone before SUNDRY KINDS OF DEATH Alone save by that memory cheered, And with this hope to brace my will That one on earth beloved, revered, In heaven may be my darling still. Ah ! there be sundry kinds of death, Ashes to ashes, dust to dust ; But in the end it quickeneth To life — to deathless life I trust. 7i IN MEMORY OF JUNE, 1887. ENGLISH hearts on land and sea Keep the queen-heart's jubilee. England's standard floats unfurled, Shadowing a sunlit world. Dancing waves and winds at play- Share a nation's holiday. IN MEMORY OF JUNE, 1887 Stars and birds and flowers all Bid us keep the festival. Children's laughter makes reply (Laughter is a prophecy) ; Expectation fills their eyes, Recollecting Paradise. Blessedly convinced are they, Life 's a life-long holiday. Lovers too uplift their voice, Calling all men to rejoice. IN MEMOR Y OF JUNE, 1887 73 Blithely they their witness give — 'T is a blissful thing to live. II. Every saint and every sage Tell us life 's a pilgrimage. Narrow is the path and steep, Climbers sometimes faint and weep. Weary oft their feet and bleeding — Whither is the pathway leading ? 74 IN MEMOR Y OF JUNE, 1887 Silencing all fear and doubt, Angels answer with a shout ' Love is king by right divine, Turning water into wine. ' Royal-hearted if we be, Life 's a life-long jubilee.' Saints take up the triumph-song, And the jubilance prolong : ' Certain is the goal,' they sing, ' In the palace of a King.' IN MEMORY OF JUNE, 18S7 75 This the moral of my rhyme — 'T is a blessed thing to climb. ill. Evermore from age to age Life's a life-long pilgrimage. So, so only, can it be Festival and jubilee. 'Yes,' a still small voice replies, ' And e'en more, — a sacrifice. 76 TN MEMOR Y OF JUNE, 1887 ' If the heart to Christ be given, Earth 's the vestibule of heaven. What a pageant shall we see Keeping God's own Jubilee ! 77 BARROW COURT. SACRED the valley and the hill, The well-known meadows, gardens, trees ; All holy ground to me, and still Haunted by memories. And now a new home fronts the old, The smiling valley lies between, With here and there a patch of gold, And lawns and pastures green. 78 BARROW COURT 'T is still a consecrated spot, Long ages past to praise and prayer Devoted ; a forget-me-not Each flower blooming there. Nestles in hallowed ground hard by A little Church, a lowly shrine, And Churchyard Cross, where Piety Reveres the sacred Sign. The many-gabled house o'erlooks A terraced garden, and behind A hollow green with shady nooks And orchard you will find. BARROW COURT 79 Beyond, a woodland path you tread, Ascending to the lovely combe ; — But turn we to the house instead, And pass from room to room. A cultured taste has set its seal On every chamber ; all the place, The more you know it, makes you feel The charm of old-world grace. Stately the hall whose deep recess An ancient Crucifix enshrines ; Outside and in, to cheer and bless, Are Faith's familiar signs. 8o BARROW COURT And here from many a pictured book Sweet faces gaze, sweet voices call,- The chamber of the ingle-nook Within the garden-hall. Throughout the house a welcome seems To greet you wheresoe'er you go : Smiles brighter than the golden beams Of sunshine on the snow. For one presides whose maiden-bloom Has ripened to maternal grace ; Her presence brightens every room, The sunshine of the place. BARROW COURT 81 Ah ! Cupid's roguish eyes were wet With happy tears of glad import, When Sussex gave to Somerset The queen of Barrow Court. And baby-laughters echo sweet Through nursery, drawing-room, and hall ; Beneath the dance of baby-feet The boards ring musical. What keeps the world for ever young, Still mindful of its heavenly birth Its many sepulchres among, — What but the children's mirth ? g 2 BARROW COURT This is their high vocation, pledged To dissipate life's gathered glooms ; They, they alone, are privileged To dance among the tombs. 1 Their voices evermore prolong The music of a prophecy ; Who knows the meaning of that song May sweeten grief thereby. Unchanged the valley and the hill, Though much be changed. It matters not ; For Love is lord and master still, And consecrates the spot. Barrow Court : May, 18S6. 1 See Note D. 83 ROMSEY ABBEY. My soul in many homes has dwelt, In sunshine and in shade, In many sanctuaries knelt, At many altars prayed. In many lands my heart has been, Companioned and alone, And here a Pisgah-sight has seen, There found a Bethel-stone. G 2 84 ROMSEY ABBEY But to one sacred spot to-day My memory returns, An English Abbey old and grey Towards which my spirit yearns. A sculptured Crucifix relieves The southern wall ; above An outstretched Hand bestows, receives, The Sacrifice of Love. Without, within, 't is nobly planned — The nave so broad and high, With pillared aisles on either hand, Strength crowned by majesty. ROMSEY ABBEY 85 One in a low side-altar ends, Where oft in bygone days A little company of friends Would meet for prayer and praise : Would meet the Lord of Life to seek, In Him to meet indeed; ' Like Him, with Him, for all the weak And sad to intercede. 'T is theirs who taste the Living Bread The dying to befriend ; He whom a Father's Hands have fed A brother's wounds must tend. 1 See Note E. 86 ROMSEY ABBEY And thus the world-redeeming Name, Through service understood, Lit up with Pentecostal flame, Declares God's Fatherhood. Recall, my soul, those happy hours, And render thanks anew, When all earth's blooms were altar-flowers, Bathed in baptismal dew. Ah ! Beauty never really dies, Because God changes not ; Nor shall the fruitful memories That gather round that spot — ROMSEY ABBEY 87 That sacred spot, that lowly shrine, Where oft in bygone years A Hand, dispensing Bread and Wine, Has wiped away my tears. My heart in many homes has dwelt, At many altars prayed, But nowhere more at home has felt Than in that Abbey's shade. The arduous ascent of prayer Leads ever to the light That shines adown the Bethel-stair, And crowns the Pisgah-height. Neuhausen : August, 1S89. THE CHAPEL OF THE HOLY SEPULCHRE} S. Barnabas', Pimlico. Who seeks his spirit's lamp to trim Need to no wilderness repair ; Yet would I fain commend to him A chosen place of prayer. ' Thy closet enter, shut the door ' Is Christ's own rubric, oft forgot ; Where'er, whate'er, that chamber floor, How sacred is the spot ! 1 See Note F. CHAPEL OF THE HOLY SEPULCHRE 89 A spot so hallowed, so endeared, Is mine, a Chapel underground, Where oft my spirit has been cheered, • My heart has solace found. 'T is like an ancient catacomb Where martyrs 'neath the altars sleep ; Secluded, silent, as the Tomb Where Mary came to weep. She seems to haunt the holy place, Brave, tender-hearted Magdalene, A triumph of converting grace, Of penitents the queen. 90 CHAPEL OF THE HOLY SEPULCHRE ' Rabboni, Master '—that is all Her lovely lips can find to say ; Her heart keeps love's own festival, An endless Easter Day. And of the Twelve Apostles one Beside her stands, whose dazzled eyes Would seem to gaze upon the sun In rapturous surprise. Five rosy suns they see indeed, Arisen to dispel his night ; ' My Lord, my God ' is all the creed His trembling lips recite. 6HAPEL OF THE HOLY SEPULCHRE 91 With Thomas and with Mary there Stand Saints and Angels side by side, Encompassing the Sepulchre Of Jesus glorified ; Encompassing His altar-throne Who in a Sacrament divine, To make the Resurrection known, Turns water into wine. W T ho seeks his spirit's lamp to feed, One with the Lord of Life must be ; Discipleship is life indeed, Christ's slave alone is free. 92 CHAPEL OF THE HOLY SEPULCHRE Who loves and serves and follows Him Need to no wilderness repair, The Mercy-Seat and Cherubim Confront him everywhere. Stuttgart : 1889. 93 'PARSIFAL. 1 (A Festival Play by Richard Wagner.) ' Glory and joy and honour to our Lord, And to the Holy Vessel of the Grail.' Tennyson. Deep calleth unto deep — God's deep To God-created depths in man ; The hands that sow, the hands that reap, Complete what His began. For His the seed, and His the fruit, And His the life at every stage ; In God humanity strikes root, Evolved from age to age. 94 'PARSIFAL' From age to age the vision grows ; Discerning eyes with wonder see The desert blossom as the rose, God in humanity. I hear a spirit-voice that calls To ears grown deaf, to hearts grown cold ; 'T is music's spell, which still enthrals As sweetly as of old. I find it wedded to the tale Oft told — a Gospel ever true- The legend of the Holy Grail Interpreted anew. 'PARSIFAL' 95 Life conquers death in Parsifal, And Love, anointed priest and king, Bids every heart keep festival, Bids all men pray and sing. So evermore the vision grows ; Uplifted eyes with rapture see The Chalice blushing as a rose Upon life's mystic Tree. 1 Deep answers deep — an antiphon More clearly heard from age to age ; For God and man in Christ are one, And God man's heritage. *;=> v Bayreuth : August 15, 1SS8. 1 See Note G. 9 6 A CHRISTMAS FIRESIDE. How dark these annual returns Of desolate Decembers ! The blackened Yule-log scarcely burns Upon the dying embers ; The frozen heart no longer yearns ; Alas ! it still remembers. Does growing old mean growing cold ? Must Love itself surrender? A CHRISTMAS FIRESIDE 97 If evening light lacks morning gold And noon-day heat and splendour, Does not the afterglow unfold A secret sweet and tender ? And lo ! the Christmas Star returns That gladdened past Decembers ; Again the Yule-log blazing burns Above the glowing embers ; A brighter hope my heart discerns Than any it remembers. S. Barnabas' : Christmas Eve, 1885. II 9 8 PROLOGUE TO A CHRISTMAS PLAY. Perfection is our final goal, If love be undefeated ; Life then becomes a perfect whole, And all things are completed. Now trim the lamps and build the stage ; To play needs preparation ; Let art and taste and wit engage To aid imagination. PROLOGUE TO A CHRISTMAS PLAY 99 Ah, there are brighter lights I know (Though footlights, too, are pretty), And to a broader stage we go, The Spiritual City. All, all things are related here, The great things to the little ; The toys our childhood held so dear Are precious, if they 're brittle. Our very playthings have their use, A meaning hangs about them ; Although I hold the man a goose Who cannot live without them. H 2 ioo PROLOGUE TO A CHRISTMAS PLAY Blue is the dome, the carpet green, When first the curtain's lifted ; And bright and beautiful the scene, The actors gay and gifted. The dimpled queen of Babydom Already is an actress ; Each birth proclaims a kingdom come, Earth owns her benefactress. O'er every cradle shines a star Of more than earthly brightness ; And fairy-lamps the footlights are That manifest its whiteness. PROLOGUE TO A CHRISTMAS PLAY 101 And so the play begins, and so Through five long acts advances, With tears and laughter, weal and woe, Now dirges and now dances. Life blends the bitter with the sweet, An undiscovered riddle; And faster still the pulses beat When Cupid plays the fiddle. Ah, there are sweeter sounds I know To golden harps vibrating ; And to a fairer feast we go, The midnight cry awaiting. io2 PROLOGUE TO A CHRISTMAS PLAY Now comedy, now tragedy, The plot of life soon thickens ; The heart, to-day so full of glee, To-morrow sinks and sickens. So quickly shift the scenes, the dance Becomes a grave procession ; But life is still the one romance, And love the one possession. And, true to love, we find at last An end to the confusion, A future brighter than the past, And happy the conclusion. PROLOGUE TO A CHRISTMAS PLAY 103 Ah, there are fairer lights I know (Though footlights still are pretty), And there 's a grander stage ; we go To the Celestial City. That lovely City stands four-square, Its golden Gates are lifting ; And when at length we enter there The scene needs no more shifting. Ah, when at last we reach that goal, Delayed, but not defeated, Our life shall be a rounded whole, And love itself completed ! Christmas, 1S8S. io4 A CHRISTMAS CAROL IN TWO PARTS AND A CONCLUSION. Part I. CONCERNING LOVE. • When I passed by thee, and looked upon thee, behold, thy time was the time of Love.' ' Love is of God.' Very sweet it is to play With the name of Love, and say ' Love can never pass away.' Love 's too faithful to fonjet • Have we learnt its secret yet — ' Love the gift is Love the debt ' ? A CHRISTMAS CAROL 105 Love 's a Poet ; when he sings Aspiration spreads her wings ; Love transfigures common things. Love 's an Angel sent to bless Hearts forlorn and comfortless ; Love 's the Champion of distress. Love 's a Spirit pure and free, Bowing head and bending knee At the shrine of Chastity. Love 's a Potentate who reigns Crowned and sceptred ; Love disdains Crooked ways and sordid gains. io6 A CHRISTMAS CAROL Love 's a Red Cross Knight ; unseen, Life and Death he rides between, Guardian of a pilgrim-queen. Love 's a Prophet in disguise ; Souls courageous, faithful, wise, Love is quick to canonise. Love 's a Lamb, a Turtle-dove ; Love is throned all thrones above, For the Name of God is ' Love.' A CHRISTMAS CAROL 107 Part II. CONCERNING JESUS. 'The Word was made Flesh, and dwelt among us, and we beheld His Glory.' ' Unto us a Child is born.' ' His Name was called Jesus.' LOVE 'S a Babe, from Heaven bringing Gifts, what time the bells are ringing, Prelude to the carol-singing. Love, down-stooping, lays His Head, With His Baby-arms outspread, Infant-wise in Manger-bed. io8 A CHRISTMAS CAROL Love 's the Ruler of the Feast ; Since His Star rose in the East How the Sunshine has increased ! Love 's the Healer, His the skill All our sicknesses to kill, His the power, His the will. Love 's a Warrior renowned, When the battle rages round, And the Gospel Trumpets sound. Love with unaffrighted eyes Looks on Death, unmasks, defies, Ah ! 't is Death, not Love, that dies ! A CHRISTMAS CAROL 109 Love 's a Priest, whose wounded feet Stand where Earth and Heaven meet, Lifting up a Censer sweet. Love, so blessing and so blest, Finding there His food and rest, Nestles to a Maiden's breast. Sweet it is to sing and say ' Love can never pass away, Born for us on Christmas Day.' no A CHRISTMAS CAROL Conclusion. CONCERNING LIFE. (to any child.) ' In Him was Life, and the Life was the Light of men. ' 'Jesus rejoiced in spirit and said, I thank Thee, O Father, Lord of heaven and earth, that Thou hast hid these things from the wise and prudent, and hast revealed them unto babes.' BELIEVE me, life is very sweet, If in His Steps we plant our feet Whose Cradle is the Mercy-Seat. So, homeward-bound, we all may stand One happy day at Love's Right Hand, And see at last our Fatherland. A CHRISTMAS CAROL m The child is evermore the seer To whom the hidden things appear, Obedience makes the vision clear. But very hard it is to tell What visions mean ; no eyes see well That see not things invisible. 'T is not a mask we see, a blind, But veil transparent ; and behind A lovely Countenance we find. The love-light in the Father's Eye On all things falls ; His babes thereby May know what visions signify. ii2 A CHRISTMAS CAROL But, to discern the things you see, Both child and prophet you must be, Fulfilled of peace and purity. 1 Your head an aureole must wear, God's Smile such sunshine makes, and where It falls there beats the pulse of prayer. Your heart must be a living thing, Alert, upsoaring, carolling, Like happy bird upon the wing. Your hands, empowered from above, Like Noah's sending forth the dove, Must be the ministers of Love. ' See Note H. A CHRISTMAS CAROL 113 Your feet the homeward path must tread, And, bleeding, bruise the serpent's head, By angel-guards companioned. Ah, what a vision, heaven-sent, Accompanied the Dove's descent When JESUS to the Jordan went ! Of that you too may be the seer, To childhood heaven lies so near, And Love makes every vision clear. Yes, life is wonderfully sweet, If we but clasp and kiss the Feet Of One in whom all graces meet : ]i 4 A CHRISTMAS CAROL Of One, the Fairest of the fair, Who His Inheritance would share With all His brothers everywhere. If we but answer to His call, And at His Feet adoring fall, Life's fever is Love's festival. The vision brightens with the years, More fair it shines beheld through tears, Most fair when all else disappears. The vision lasts, the rapture grows : The veil, when lifted, shall disclose Things that we know not ; JESUS knows A CHRISTMAS CAROL 115 And so our hearts shall dance and sing, And loud shall be the carolling Around the Cradle of our King. S. Barnabas' : Christmas, 1887. 1 2 n6 THE END The end ? Ah, no ! it is an endless end Towards which all things that live for ever tend, Returning ever to their secret source, The spring inviolate of vital force. And whosoever lives must needs dispense Life's water, else condemned to impotence ; Unauthorised is he to speak or sing Whose uttered word is not a living thing. THE END 117 Love is, I trust, the author of my book, And I, Love's vassal, do not blush to look My reader in the face, and say to him — Weak though my voice may be, my vision dim, My meaning holds a music which, if heard, Will make amends for every halting word. Hark to a heart-pulse, throbbing to the beat Of measured words, — a whisper faint and sweet, Yet loud enough perchance for Love to hear — Love of the questing heart and questioning ear ; And competent one secret to proclaim, Hope's gospel, in one world-redeeming Name. Betchworth : 1889. NOTES Note A, p. 33. Of Columbus, Prescott says : — ' He seemed too much absorbed by the great cause to which he had consecrated his life, to allow scope for the lower pursuits and pleasures which engage ordinary men.' Lord Tennyson, in the pathetic poem that bears his name, has given vivid expression to the enthusiasm that fired the heart of the great adventurer and shaped his heroic career, his life-long and passionate devotion, in spite of all disappointments, indignities, and reverses, to the Catholic cause. He was a true Crusader. No life has more forcibly illustrated the truth of Montaigne's words — ' Malheur a celui qui est en avance de son siecle ! ' Note B, p. 36. The following is Prescott's account of the incident to which my verses refer — one of the most romantic pages surely of a romantic history : — ' As the column under the Grand Cardinal advanced up the Hill of Martyrs, over which a road had been constructed for the passage of the artillery, he was met by the Moorish Prince Abdallah, NOTES 119 attended by fifty cavaliers, who, descending the hill, rode up to the position occupied by Ferdinand on the banks of the Xen I. As the Moor approached the Spanish King, he would have thrown himself from his horse, and saluted his hand in token of homage, but Ferdinand hastily prevented him, embracing him with every mark of sympathy and regard. Abdallah then delivered up the keys of the Alhambra to his conqueror, saying, "They are thine, O King, since Allah so decrees it ; use thy success with clemency and moderation." ' Ferdinand would have uttered some words of consolation to the unfortunate Prince, but he moved forward with a dejected air to the spot occupied by Isabella, and, after similar acts of obeisance, passed on to join his family, who had preceded him with his most valuable effects on the route to Alpujarras. The Sovereigns during this time waited with impatience the signal of the occupation of the city by the Cardinal's troop, which, winding slowly along the outer circuit of the walls as previously arranged, in order to spare the feelings of the citizens as far as possible, entered by what is now called the Gate of Los Molinos. In a short time the large silver cross, borne by Ferdinand throughout the crusade, was seen sparkling in the sunbeams, while the standards of Castile and St. Iago waved triumphantly from the red towers of the Alhambra. At this glorious spectacle, the choir of the royal chapel broke forth into the solemn anthem of the Te Deuni ; and the whole army, penetrated with deep emotion, prostrated themselves on their knees in adoration of the Lord of Hosts, who had at length granted the consummation of their wishes in this last and glorious triumph of the Cross. The grandees who surrounded Ferdinand then advanced towards the Queen, and kneeling down, saluted her hand in token i2o NOTES of homage to her as Sovereign of Granada. The procession took up its march towards the city, " the King and Queen moving in the midst," says an historian, "emblazoned with royal magnificence ; and as they were now in the prime of life, and had now achieved the completion of this glorious conquest, they seemed to represent even more than their wonted majesty. Equal with each other, they were raised far above the rest of the world. They appeared, indeed, more than mortal, and as if sent by heaven for the salvation of Spain." ' In the meanwhile the Moorish King, traversing the route of the Alpujarras, reached a rocky eminence which commanded a last view of Granada. He checked his horse, and, as his eyes for the last time wandered over the scenes of his departed greatness, his heart swel.ed, and he burst into tears. '"You do well," said his more masculine mother, "to weep like a woman, for what you could not defend like a man." ' " Alas ! " exclaimed the unhappy exile, " when were woes ever equal to mine ! " ' The scene of this event is still pointed out to the traveller by the people of the district ; and the rocky height from which the Moorish chief took his sad farewell of the princely abodes of his youth is commemorated by the poetical title of ' " El ultimo Sospiro del Moro," ' " The last Sigh of the Moor." ' {Ferdinand and Isabella, vol. i. pp. 451-453. London, 1867.) NOTES 121 Note C, p. 57. The idea of duality is nowhere more beautifully expressed than in a remarkable passage, too long for quotation, of Mr. Pater's Marius the Epicurean, vol. ii. pp. 7 I -77- My readers will, I think, be grateful for the reference. Note D, p. 82. Some beautiful verses — A Walk in a Churchyard— -by Arch- bishop Trench, give fuller and worthier expression to this thought. I made their acquaintance after my poem was written. Note E, p. 85. I cannot deny myself the pleasure of extracting the following beautiful passage from Canon Westcott's little book, Gifts for Ministry : — ' How those two words of S. Paul, " in Christ," give a solid foundation to the vague feeling after the fatherhood of God and the brotherhood of men, which is at present the pathetic expression of "souls naturally Christian." How they come back to us when we are baffled, wearied, discouraged, with minds darkened 122 NOTES by clouds of human misery and crime, and eyes dimmed by strain- ing for the dawn. In Christ : here lies the fresh spring of wisdom and understanding. In Christ nothing is lost, nothing is in- effective, nothing dies but that it may rise to a more fertile life. In Christ our least glimpse of the Truth falls into its due place in the limitless prospect of the love of God. In Christ our least labour becomes a part of a Divine ministry.' (Page 24.) Note F, p. 88. The Chapel of the Holy Sepulchre to which my verses refer is in the crypt of S. Barnabas' Church, immediately underneath the sanctuary — the most secluded spot, I think, in all London. For this beautiful addition to a beautiful church I am indebted to the genius of Mr. Bodley. It enshrines the original altar of S. Barnabas', famous in the annals of the Catholic Revival, which, after many years of disuse, has been now again reinstated, not indeed in its old position, but (as it were) in an inner chamber, and with all befitting dignity and adornment. It was first used again on the Sunday in the Octave of Dedication, 1SS7, when the Bishop of Lincoln celebrated the Holy Eucharist there, and has ever since been in constant use. There are in the little chapel three small and deeply recessed windows ; the one over the altar represents Christ on the Cross ; the other two S. Mary Magdalene and S. Thomas respectively, NOTES 123 as being specially the Saints of Easter Day and Low Sunday. The legend under the Magdalene is as follows : — Eripuit animam meant de morte, ocidos meos a lacrymis ; that under Didymus, Ut credentes vitam habcatis hi Nomine ejus. The reredos repre- sents the Annunciation on two painted panels, and opposite the altar is a canopied seat with a panel-picture of the Entombment. The walls and vaulted roof are enriched with various scriptures, scrolls, and legends, those of most frequent recurrence being the old Catholic prayers, Jesu Mercy and Requiem ccternaiyi dona eis, Domine. A floor of black and white marble dimly reflects the light of the sanctuary lamp. Mr. Shields is at work upon a picture, representing the women- worshippers in the Garden of the Sepulchre, which will shortly be placed on the wall of the ante-chapel. The frontispiece of this book is a photograph of it. Note G, p. 95. The following suggestive lines are from the pen of Mr. Morris : ' A fair and mystic Tree Rose like a heart in shape, and 'mid its leaves One golden mystic fruit with a fair seed Hid in it. This, with childish hand, I took And ate, and straight I knew the tree was Life, And the fruit Death, and the hid seed was Love.' The Epic of Hades : Persephone. 124 NOTES Note H, p. 112. The child is always and everywhere a seer ; and not unfre- quently he is empowered all unconsciously to declare and interpret the vision that his eyes behold— a poet and prophet as well. No one has realised this more vividly perhaps than Novalis ; ' The first man,' he says, ' is the first spirit-seer ; all appears to him as spirit. What are children but first men ? The fresh gaze of the child is richer in significance than the forecasting of the most indubitable seer.' It is interesting — painfully interesting— to remember that the Sophie, so passionately loved by him, and whose death left him so soon desolate, was only thirteen when he first saw her, and died two days after her fifteenth birthday. What childhood in its prophetic mood thinks and sees and feels, let Emerson tell us in the following lines of his Mayday: — ' And ever, when the happy child, In May beholds the blooming wild, And hears in heaven the blue-bird sing, " Onward," he cries, "your baskets bring ! In the next field is air more mild, And in yon hazy west is Eden's balmier spring." 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