THE LIBRARY OF THE OF LOS UNIVERSITY CALIFORNIA ANGELES BEATRICE &c. BEATRICE ASD OTHER POEMS BY THE HON. RODEN NOEL bonbon MACMILLAN AND CO. 1868 All rights reserved LONDON : PRINTED DV SPOTTISWOODJS AND CO., NliW-STEKBl SQ.UAKB AND PARLIAMENT STREET 33% CONTENTS BEATRICE 'UPON HEE STONE AT DEAD OF night' song: 'like her, but not the same' kathleen .... june roses .... song : ' and she was a widow ' a walk in si-king . blind and deaf bummer clouds and a swan . autumn in ireland Tin: (JRANDMOTHEB'a STORY kJJOTHEB VERSION . CRADLE BONG FOR BUMMER PAGE 1 95 96 97 99 101 103 100 117 122 128 139 L43 81 8571 VI CONTENTS TAGE Leonardo's ciirist 147 A COM T. ssi ON 153 A child's FUNERAL ]»'>»"' SONG : ' I WENT, DEAR, BY THE BROOK TO-DAY ' . 169 MINNIE 171 THE TWO FRIENDS 173 MENCHEEES : A VISION OF OLD EGYPT . . . 185 GANYMEDE 225 ON THE RHINE 229 A LONG MOURNING 233 1 IN A HALF-DARKENED ROOM I STOOD ' . . . 230 A NEW LIGHT 238 AN ANGEL'S GIFT 246 HEAVENLY GUEST 249 CONSOLATION 252 DEAR HEAD, LIE CALM 256 LEAVE GOD'S OWN RANKS DRAWN UF TO FIGHT . 258 TO A WATERLILY ....... 260 BEFORE RAFFAELLE ....... 262 WHAT THE OLD CnURCH SAID 264 ' AS A TALE THAT IS TOLD ' 269 CONTENTS Vll ' TO AVROM SHALL WE GO ? ' PAN IN MEJIOEIAM THACKERAY ON THE MOUNTAIN . GARIBALDI : AN ODE PALMYRA .... 'PAGE 276 290 300 308 312 320 BEATEICE Book I After a childhood weakly, timid, shy, Whereon the common boy-experience That braces vigorous constitution fell Like rustling of some paper, or the grate On stones of carriage-wheel upon the sick, Clement lost mother and a sister dear In early boyhood ; to his clinging heart And nature passionate, susceptible, Deep was the wound, loss irremediable. Yet from a spirit's shipwreck was he saved 15y a wise friend and kindly, having wit To touch the secret spring that laid to view Bigh capabilities all undivined ()(' plodding fools; his crumped soul uncoiled Woke from her lethargy with slakeless thirst 1 questioning the how and why of all, deep thirsl For beauty, all the beauty in the world, With many a tremor nerving her to dare B V J BEATRICE The steep imperial Conscience motioned from. Proud, wilful, passionate, and self-involved, Ih' grew a dreamer tender and devont; Yrt, wit li soic travail of a soul sincere, Soon drifted from his anchorage of creed Ever away, albeit to the last His mother's words, example, and her love He owned his spirit's richest sustenance. Bu1 as youth wore the longing came upon him For venturesome experience afar Of men diverse and stranger lands remote ; Yet opening keen senses upon all, Maturing healthful vigour of the frame. So winning richer relish of mere life, Still yearned his restless spirit, hungering For sustenance of sympathy and love. Twice was he foiled — early by circumstance : He the blond Northern youth, and she the child Of Southern suns and moons, daughter of fire, Drew to a mutual embrace, but shrank Baffled at finding that which seemed free air Was crystal fate duty forbade to break. Later there foiled him human treachery: A fascinating woman beautiful Out on the hunt for fresh experience Of diverse men, and gifted to assume At w r ill the semblance of their sentiments, As does the mocking bird the notes of others, BEATRICE 3 Toyed with the hoy, half serious half in sport, But when she won him to a fond caress, Wearied, and spying a new creature pass, Out of the sleek and velvet paw there stole A cruel claw into his bosom soft. Long he lay bleeding, yet with dauntless heart Rallying, he resumed the sacred quest, Blaspheming not the holy thing he sought. In lowly guise and in a lowly spot, And yet not lowlier than where Christ was born, He came upon it after seeking long. For in a mountain district in a fray Between some mountaineers with whom he dwelt He, chosen for mediator by a chance, Was wounded sore and carried to a cottage Of porch festooned with purple columbine ; And entering, with feverish dim sight Beneath roof-wattles blackened of the smoke He Baw a maiden by the ingle fire •ping above a cauldron grimed and huge Slung in the ingle from an iron hook, Who tended what was boiling, fondling soft The while a cat of drowsy eve that purred Upon a chair — a maiden in blue serge Wearing red-printed kerchief for her neck — Who turning showed the face that on his soul Would beam in warmth and light for evermore. 1 BEATRICE 'Twas hard to fix the colour of her eyes : They seemed to liquefy and melt beneath Your own, and lure you in.to labyrinths Of sweef infinitade, rich shrines of love, Dissolved in love as summer skies in light ; He only saw the child -lace all suffused From those seraphic eves — he saw no more — Unless indeed sleek shining rings of hair, Fair hair on warm white neck and o'er her shoulders ; For as the door was opened, flowed the sun Pull on her as if waiting eagerly, Impatient for admittance to the child — Plowed over delicate ankle and slim feet And over the frail figure, kissing face And neck fire-rosy too abruptly when She startling turned as men came bearing him. Glimpses he caught of her performing well Meekly her lowly services of home ; And while he lay luxuriously weak, With casement open, gloating in the light Of summer evening sumptuous and large, Inhaling balmy blossom-breathing air, Music of sunny leaves, horizons fair, Not seldom shyly would she falter nigh: ' For mother being very busy craves 'You will excuse her sending, sir, by me ' Your lemonade, and here are some fresh flowers BEATRICE ' From our wee garden I have culled for you.' But after slow retrieving forfeit health At evening he would join the family, Partaking of the homely meal with them, Listing the sire's not unmelodious flute After his labour of the day afield — Relating travellers' experience To them entrancing, novel, wonderful, Mayhap in passing lightly naming names The common wind of rumour blows abroad, At which the sire or mother in amaze Would question if himself had even seen Or spoken to the mighty folk he named, Welcoming an affirmative with awe. But aye at culmination of the tale, Whate'er the story, would the teller's eye Stealthily visit one who sat apart On yonder wooden settle in the nook, Modestly knitting, with a look demure Low-drooped upon the wool, surprising her More than once leaning forward looking full Upon him with sweet marvel in her eyes And little open mouth and listless hands, Blushing to meet his gaze at unaware, ching confusedly the falling wool; And then to bed, to magical fair dreams Of brillianl Lords and Ladies, of rare scenes Romantic, and the teller of the tales, b BEATRICE For ln'm. lie wcnl In ponder if the look Held only marvel, that ami nothing more! I>ui it was after hesitating long, Vowing to leave her in the sheltered nest And, going, hide his hleeding heart from her, (iiddy and sick, foreboding a farewell, Jealous of moments shutting them apart, He made resolve to ask her for her love, To pray that she would bless his lonely life. With tremulous hope he sued — a moment more And she coy yielding lay upon Ins heart. Vain jangled clapper-tongues of friends inane That he was noble, lowly born the girl; Was she not born for him and he for her ? In salient life-crises like to this, With heart and mind at one, their impetus Bore him to action strong, unwavering. In Italy they spent the primal days; After, he brought her to a cottage home Where in calm lapse the sweet months glided by N>w the word Happiness broke on his soul Like a new revelation; empty wind The mouthed phrase had been to him before ; Yet though his spirit fondled her young joy She fondled it too like some timorous hare Who fondly licks her furred young in the grass. Yet with one ear pricked ever and anon, BEATRICE 7 Lest yon faint rustle in the neighbour copse Be stealthy weasel treading last year's leaves. With staff in hand and girded loins he feeds Restlessly in a posture of defence ; And yet those years were heaven for all the note Of wanton, half-luxurious, boding inazed With their cairn joy, only enhancing it By discord gentle, tinging every thought, Concentrating the soul upon her love As transient and fleeting like the flush Of sunrise. Ah ! 'twas sweet in those bright days For them to sit, the lovers, hand in hand, He like the breath of spring to her gum-bud Of sprouting mind, teaching her many things, And opening her sweet being at his will, To blow a flower of rarest scent for all ! These are a few songs fragrant with his bliss That floated from him on the summer air. IN HAVEN No inure shrill whistling 'mid the spars; No black masts reeling 'mong the stars Point to them as they go and come, We labouring o'er the waste of foam. I waken to a glorious dawn, * * .- 1 1 1 1 1 floating through unruffled morn In a sweet Iji-f-atliing wooded hay I fpon a rosy sea of day. BEATRICE Tis no ideal vision we raise In Fancy's faery coloured Maze ; Nor faint flame kindled as we breathe On ashes of the Past in death. Though men aver but spirit gleani Of Hope and Memory may redeem Life's pain and life's monotony, We taste joy's essence ere we die ! Your mind's high vision may be rare, Your soul's dreamed mistress passing fair; Y'et, brothers, are they something pale: Perchance those simple girl-flowers that veil Their fragrant loveliness in shade Of taller growths from careless tread And skyward gazers might unfold A life of God's ideal mould — Fresh from his hand in bounty sown On this our earth : life sacred own ; Its mysteries; and most its love: We witness, darling, as we prove! HOME Oft riding o'er a gentle rise, I pause the landscape to survey, YVhile frosty dews to half-shut eyes "Weave webs of light in jewel play: A floating gleam Of elfin beam In hoar grasstufts where the gossamers dream. BEATRICE Tall trees with bronzy budded sprays Embroider fine the liquid blue ; "Whose shadows stream to softer maze As brimming o'er and sinking through Tbe simned champaign, Kine-gleaming plain, . Fields, hamlets, woods, in vaporous wane. Yon hollow lies of all most fair : A languid wreath of lawny smoke Luxuriates in lucid air O'er clustered elm, the haunt of rook, From nestled farm Homelike and warm Aloof from men and all their harm. • For there at household tasks my life Moves singing blithe as any bird With whose brown nests our eaves are rife That in the fresh May-dawn is stirred — Dawns which illume Those folds of spume That curtain frail our beamy room. We hear yon thresher's measured beat, We see the glancing of the flail, Farm voices cheery rousing greet, Each milkmaid bears her bubbling pail. Soon where we sleep Four rose will creep, And early will your flowers peep. I 's essence, all my spirit prays, 1 hold though I believed it nol : lit'.'.- long dark' bewildering \\ Sloped down toward this primrose spot! LO BEATRICE Spill, leaves unrolled ! Our petals fold Pressed close upon their heart of gold ! Is this the whole? to seek our joy, And finding sink to mere content — No social aims our powers employ, In a boundless human firmament ? Xav in a well, Both deep and still, Hoard love that all may drink their fill ! All bliss, how pure so e'er, must die, For this untasted must I throw My life in dust? for shadows sigh? Nay, drain its brief yet generous flow! Love makes us more With all the store Of other lives, sole conqueror! If aught survive it should be love, That blends us with the heart of things ; But if in death no spirit move, Alone life's subtle aroma springs From delicate cells \\ here love indwells: Ah ! guard it from the winter spells ! For calmly sleep our azure seas: Ami yet from far there seems to breathe Anon as warning some chill breeze From wandering iceberg, white Avith death- The dull world's ill, Chance frosts which kill, And worst, my own dark spirit's chill! BEATRICE 1 1 Fold close, more close, the present bliss : You gaze abroad— behold, 'tis gone ; Nay, thoughts ne'er wander even to this — Bask in the glory, everyone! Nor wonder pale How soon the trail Of yon vast shade shall make it fail! A.8 when upon a summer day ^ e wandering down some woodland vale Hear a sweet voice from far away So clear, so sweet, our spirits fail To tell its birth, Of heaven or earth, Dropt by some angel in his mirth, W'li i dips these crystal days anear Such seems our love: thrilling voice, Intent I li an ; I stand all ear; Hand raised to banish alien noise; My so ids drinks in Bliss-shimmering keen Each quavering line of your music raiu ! I tit- not, O voice, into the blue You well from : scent of blossomed spring On delicate airs, 1 faint with you: Slide not from their I >o wanton wing! Kind spirit-, alight; With hands Hushed white Shade my one flame from breath of night. L2 THE DESTEOYER Our clasp too firm for aught to sever, 1 swore to hold thee, love, for ever, Last height of all my life's endeavour! A child may laughing homeward run, With snow-wreath frail hands closed upon, But opening them he finds it gone ! I press thee close, 1 feel thine hand; My spirit can, nor will, command A thought that in this lovelit land, Within the heart of ferns and flowers, That mantle round these feet of ours, A subtle exhalation cowers, To breathe unseen a fatal breath, And sure, though slowly, to uuwreathe Locked hands that would not loose till death. Yet lurks miasma in the air, However seeming pure and fair, For tainted spirits everywhere. And we, foam-globes the sunlight strews With iridescent moment hues, While to the flood new strength accrues! My child, must our sweet love go by ? We foambeads fleetimr. you and I F Ah ! turn we now with tearful eye BEATRICE 13 To that Divine Man who alone Stream taintless from the spring- hath flown, Who feels the Father's will his own ; And so his name as Saviour gave, In teaching faith and love shall save And bloom their 1 full beyond the grave ! For long our holiday extends, It seems when first we visit friends Beloved, but all too soon it ends ! So brief the life of holiest mirth For what to us this teeming earth, If love's cold ashes choke the hearth ? And since 'tis gloaming infinite All round our solitary light, What end would thy desire invite? — That when the shadows nearer press q forth the outer loneliness — If they could make love's watchfire less, Till we numb cowering, even we ! Half-vacanl cote the encroaching grey On those red brands — it ne'er can be! ( tr as we two love's vigil keep, [f unaware night's fingers creep About one heart to still its leap — We 1' aning close might nestle so O'er both the numbing night must flow: And bo tli" '" soul shall know 1 I' BEATRICE Will be the Bister epiril nigh, What last swims mar each filming eye The one dear face — and so to die I Then if below the ghostly rim There lives a day thai grows not dim, We trample on the boast of Time ! If one had stayed, that friendly art Accurst might soothe .and heal — and part- But now we go locked heart to heart ! Ah, rave not, poor blind human pride ! For is not Love Divine the guide? Come, let us kneel then side by side ! KVKXIXfr PKAYEIl Now the soft warm -learn uncertain In the little chamber stays, On the spotless falling curtain, 1 !y the bedside where she prays : From the shadow round her kneeling Slender hands are raised appealing. II Down below the shadow resteth, O'er blush-alabaster feet, Simple robe of white investeth Up to where bows, childlike sweet, Gentle head in hands half hidden, Whence the shadow falls forbidden. BEATRICE 15 m From our dusk her hands are lifting, And the light, in answer bland, Down her sleek brown tresses drifting, Seems to smooth them with a hand — Solemn hand from forth the splendour, Where this child hath those that tend her ! IT These love-tears may cloud my vision ; Yet about this humble room Do not faces dim, Elysian, Yearn down o'er her through the gloom ? Even the shades are glory colder, Warming softer as they fold her ! So bathe her feet our earth's chill sorrow, Never cling more dark than this ; From her gentle spirit burrow Even the hues and warmth of bliss, While her soul inhales the heaven, Praying thus at morn and even! VI life's darkling pilgrim haileth ; Mountain forest, haunted nook, A - "it high serene she saileth, Smile beneath her sainted look ! Only worldlings, foul in feeling, Curse the childlike light revealing. 16 BEATRICE vi r Spirit music, souls of (lowers, I lire luxuriate to shape, Charming far the baleful powers : Blessed moment, wherefore 'scape? Hold her young, so gvielless r.vayinr at her evening meal on rustic table Beneath cool umbrage of two limber planes, As far from the blue sea as in a wood A startled bird may flit from twig to twig. ' Here may she gaze athwart the infinite ' To where blue sky and ocean marrying blend, ' As I have seen, with eyes more infinite ' Mysterious than they, while shadowy hands ' Glide from the foliage over her to stroke ' Her grace of soft brown hair how daintily, ' And her soft shoulders gleaming through the gauze, 'Or envious invade the basking glow ' On gentle undulation of a breast ' Tender as petals of an opening rose. ' But yet I think she listens anxiously 'For a far tramp of horse; my letter told • That many days ago I should be here : • M:iybe she fears mishap and pines for me, • MY own soul's life — a minute only, love, And you lie folded to my beating heart ! BEATRICE -] ■ And then what hliss our parched eyes shall draw ' And draw and draw from one another's wells. • I "ntil we leave them for the dewy mouth ' And suck it thence and never speak the while, ' Unless with utterance broken rare and low ! ' But as he nears the house, he notices With wonder that the shutters green are closed Both in the upper and the lower rooms, Though 'tis near sunset, and hi afternoons This eastern-facing side is shadowy cool : And Beatrice neglects not homely care For ordering details of daily life Which smooth and make it pleasant unaware. But coming to the garden- wall he thinks She may have heard his horse and meet him there ; Yet is there no one — riding through the gate J lis eye explores dim spaces 'mid th.e trees, And peering to the spot between the planes, As he had visioned her, it seems that she I- sitting there indeed with look intent Upon the sunset flush in sea and sky. His heart Leaps up, he calls her name aloud; Then rising slow she turns to him, her face wan when he discerns it nearing her, For all the evening flush, and wistful oya> Suffused and sorrowful arc hers, with arms j- open to him, while her lips 22 BEATRICE Move while and tremulous with ne'er a sound, Until a fig-tree baulks him of the sight. He with a sudden i'aintness at his heart Bounds past the trees and flings him to the ground, But finds her not, and leaving loose the horse Plunges among thick figleaves seeking her. In vain — he finds no traces of her nigh ; So he emerges calling anxiously And peering everywhere ; no Beatrice ! Then stands bewildered ; she was here but now ; It could be no illusion of the sense ! Some ghastly dread has whispered in his ear, And pale mechanical he draws the steed (So quiet cropping dim delicious grass) Toward the house, till with alacrity A groom appears, and bowing to his lord, That selfsame look of pity on his face, The peasant wore, arrests the eager words On Clement's questioning lips and keeps him mute. With mute interrogation in his eyes A moment, straight he hurries to the house, And fumbles at the door as he were blind, Enters the room where she is wont to sit To find it empty, rapid mounts the stair To their own chamber — yet she may be nigh, Strolling this evening not expecting him ! The little things that ever speak of her Unto his heart are there ; the needlework BEATRICE 23 The thimble and the workbox are below, A tiny stocking knitted by her hand For some poor neighbour's babe, the needle in it, Half-finished on the table, and her book Open at yon window flutters in the ah*. While yet he strove to reason foreboding down Too vainly, stole her favorite maiden nigh, And she was weeping, weeping bitterly. Then Clement sickened, faltering ' Where is she ?' But she wept on, till hoarsely ' Tell me quick ! ' He whispered ; so she glanced at him and sobbed, As she beheld his ghastly waning face, ' She is not dead : oh no, she is alive ! ' At this the blood congesting at his heart Flowed free again — ' he carried her away.' ' Who ? what ? who carried her away ? explain ! ' JBut choked with tears and he so vehement She could not utter more. And now a touch, Such a soft touch, upon his shoulder grows. He turns and with displeased astonishment Beholds a dame he knows alas! too well. Some sorrow looks from her fair countenance, And some affection tenderness for him. Xet Clement at the sight of her and touch Pelt as might feel a wild-bird darting glad Onto bis home, and peering through the dusk 24 BEATRICE Of brushwood for the downy streaked head Of his soft mate upon the lichened edge < )f their hidden nest and \v;it chins: "" bheir egSB, As such a bird might feel beholding there A smooth gorged serpent coiling in her stead. • Do you know, madam, anything of this ? ' He questioned; she 'Believe my sympathy • How deep for yon; be only calm, and I • Will tell yon all I know of what has chanced.' She motioned him into a chamber near, lie following like some automaton. ' You wonder I am here — not long ago • I came alone, and she invited me ' As friend of yours to spend much pleasant time ' Here in her company, and often I ' Returned her courtesy and asked her home. " It chanced a traveller whom I had known ' In former days, was passing in a yacht, ' And came ashore ; Ave met him in our walks — • Ah ! had I known the man's true character — ' A fascinating man the women think, • Noble and wealthy; often afterward ' He went to her — I never thought of fear : • She often said she longed for your return, • And wondered at your silence every day. • How full she relished her converse with him ' I well could see, yet never till by chance ' (Now you must nerve yourself to hear the whole) BEATRICE 25 ' I came one day she did not look for me ' Did I suspect the terrible fatal truth ; ' But then I saw them sitting side by side • And in his toying band hers passive hying.' With this the lady's radiant lissome hand Slid into his and pressed it as for ruth, And her wild hungry eye stole seeking his; But he, as if the contact blistered him Like vitriol, snatched violent his hand, And rising suddenly confronted her Black as a storm with loathing and with scorn. And hissed the syllables 'You know you lie!' She cowering collapsing in dismay, Died all the languid longing in her eyes That filled with baleful greenish livid light \> cats 1 in darkness, and the pleasant lines Of her faint-smiling mouth set rigidly About tin' cl -■• thin lips, while fingers clutched ('lawlike her seat, until she seemed a lynx That draws itself together for a spring. • M;. it'll ask your servants it' 1 lie,' After a pause half-audibly she breathed. • My servants! ask my servants if the sun • Did tumble in my absence from bhe sky! ' Lady, I know you — and 1 know my wife. • 3Tou may have Loved me as 'tis given to such ' As you to love: I knew you net of yore. • Ton loved; yet ii<>t like young romantic girls, -•' BEATRICE ' Yourself confessed, but villi sobriety ' You poised your love against i'tbe other scale ' A higher title, ampler ■wealth and power, ' Carriage and footmen, richer jewellery, 'As 'tis the wont of women in the world, ' And even though weighted with my rank and blood, ' Your poor light love flew upward with a jerk ! ' Inevitably such a flimsy thing ' Must waver here and there with every gust ' And every fetid vapour of the sense. 1 But she — I pray you mark the difference ! — ' She was, you know, " a young romantic girl," ' Her love was love, no flimsy counterfeit, ' Base spawn of wanton fancy, vanity, ' But love — the power you creatures of the world ' Are doomed to mock and never comprehend. ' With her, the wealth of continents and seas, 1 The social pinnacle, a monarch's throne, ' Were but an airy cobweb in the scale ' To wrench the almighty magnet-hold of love ! ' It cannot be : I know my Beatrice.' So then the lady, livid with her rage, Sidled from near him rising to her feet, And spake with choking accents low and thick : ' A most sublime tirade, I thank you for it ' And for your good opinion ; as for her, ' I only know this model saint of yours, ' This poet's ideal of love and constancy, BEATRICE 27 ' This faithful though insipid peasant-girl, ' Has left you — left you — for a vicious duke. ' I saw them — saw them — row away myself, ' And your sweet paragon was in his arms ! ' "With that she broke into hysteric cries, Half choking sobs and half hyena laugh, For bitter jealousy, and vanity And lacerated love turned into gall ; But at the last word when she mentioned Mm, The man who stole his Beatrice away, The pitiless sneer that Clement wore for her In her unlovely disappointed mood Passed into a concentrate look of hate Slow-fed with blackness like a thundercloud. And though he glowered into her very eyes, No more his vision pictured facing him The woman fair with passion hideous. Anon he muttered talking with himself, ' "When in the life-blood of his quivering heart ' These hands have revelled, I shall die content.' Whether the lady fainted on the floor, Or at her leisure smoothed her ruffled plumes, He never knew, for turning on his heel, Abrupt he left her, striding through the hall Into the garden, up the rock, away. Onward he strode and chose the steepest parts Of the abrupt gray rock, as driven aloft 28 BEATRICE By the fierce tumulf of his boiling blood, lie over chose the giddiest mountain-tracks, Haunt of shy marmot and of ibex wild, Thai he with son] unquailing might surprise The secret of soliloquies sublime Nature, the ancient mother, murmurs far Prom human presences in craggy haunt Of cormorant and eagle, by lone springs Of mighty rivers bubbling into light. Now the tumultuous anguish of his soul Urged him instinctively to drown its roar I'.v ci injuring a counter-tempest forth, Born of unwonted effort physical. In part his purpose was to find a friend Who dwelt upon the rock, a peasant he, Intelligent and cultured ; not a man Born iu the country, but a mountaineer from Corsica, who left his native hills ( 'raving adventurous to see the world, Embarked a sailor lad from Genoa, And after many years the crew discharged, Wandered along the coast to Monaco; And here, for all proud sniffing of the air Of Independence, he was brought to bay By large dark eyes, and clearest olive skin, By a neat cotton print tied round the chin, Blue woollen stocking covering ancles trim. BEATRICE -2'.' The father of the girl, an only child, Owned a small cottage and a strip of rock Which his forefathers with their strong right arms Had scooped and terraced, digging spacious tanks For irrigation through the summer drought. Then planted with the delicate leinon-tive. Aloft they lived, but he would do at times Some sardine fishing in the breezv dawn With his own boat, for oft he wistful eyed His old well- loved free perilous salt sea. Now a full year his darling child lay ill, The stay of his old age, a maiden sweet, Whose mother he had buried many years. And when nor Beatrice nor Clement came Their way, the father would himself descend To cany wine and strengthening food for hi The maiden sick ; till he and Clement gr< Fasl friends, and roamed the hills in company • arching for plants and holding high <• . To this old man (whose name was Paolij, [ -tinmive Clement turned, for since he went (As Beatrice related when she wrote) Down daily to the villa, he would know - mething of this dark horror that had chanced. And then he craved some sterling sympathy; And yet the track he chose led far away "Id man's home into the solitudes, i . solitude be needed mosl of all. 30 BEATRICE At length exhausted prone lie flung himself Upon a ledge above a precipice, Sinking among sweet thyme and rosemary, And ling half russet girt with myrtle bushes And lentisk, while the overhung grey rock That seemed to swoon and fall through azure air Was festooned with a succulent-leaved plant That bore bright crimson cactus-like wee flowers. This and the spurgewort, and the velvet bees Backing from out the bulging fox-glove bells And shaggy goat that clung with sharp-cleft hoof Of close-set nervous legs to naked crag, All this lie saw and noted in his mind, When his breath came and when the tide of blood Less violently thumped within his head — Saw too the wine-empurpled promontories Dim set in ocean hued like flower petals Where azure melts to purple unaware, And grape-bloomed gorges of the folding hills ; While nor near cricket nor the croaking frog From distant tank could vex the stilly evo. Yet though he saw, yea, noted in his mind, The formless ghastly trouble writhed within, And rustled in dusk corners of his heart ; Anon awakened, and emerging slow With hideous lineaments confronted him. Stunned, sickened for a moment, wildered thoughts Came trooping to their banner at his call — BEATRICE 31 To find her — rescue — that immediately, This very night, without a thought of rest, And to inflict a righteous punishment On him who dared insult the sacred shrine Where his soul worships and his life keeps guard — Light deepens round that purpose prominent. Now as he nears the cottage of his friend, The old man sitting on a low stuccoed wall, Whence rise white pillars trellised at the top And roofed with vine-leaf, at his cottage door Espies him coming ; to the vine-walk's end Straight walks to meet him, and approaching nigh Puts out two hands, and Clement's hand in his Clasps tight with such a look upon his face, Clement beholding need not ask ' You know ? ' With wan lips nervous twitching, for he sees The kind old man knows all ; mechanical He speaks the words to set emotion free Whose flood in silence overwhelmingly Boils up and strains the flood-gates of the heart. 1 i es, I know all,' deep tremulous tones reply, As if the old sailor were the father himself Clemenl had alienated by his love. Firm-lined and clean-cut are the features grand Of that old man, with venerable grey hair Beneath the pouch red woollen that he wears Like other peasants; but he looks a rock • >_ J BEATRICE Of granite lofty and majestic reared, That fronts through all the years with countenance ( !alm equable irradiation deep Of zenith-blue intense full-sat urate With undiluted sun-light smiles of (lod; Anon bhe smother of his thunder-cloud, Scathe of his lightning, lashing of his rain, Hounded of that wild huntsman the shrill wind, Blister of frost and rasping of keen iec : A countenance calm, equable, yet scarred And weatherstained with rough experience. But kindliness, a mellow charity, Beamed from the window of his clear grey eye: Life had not petrified or curdled sour The sweet and gracious juices of his breast. Unturned the fine edge of his inner sense, "Widening experience of human spirits, And of his own, responsive to the play Of varied circumstance, his \ iews of men Rendered clastic, large, and pitiful. The ennobling humanizing influences Of that sublime creed he was nurtured in His soul assimilated, little harmed Of elements that puff rank bigotry. ' Mayhap,' he spake, ' 'twill be more pleasant here 'Sitting without than in my darksome hut. ' Are you fresh come, or know you all that passed ? ' But Clement, about whose heart the casing ice BEATRICE 33 Was thawing in the rays of sympathy, Could scarcely utter — covering his face He strove to choke down not unmanly tears. The old man's eyes were swimming too with mist, But the youth faltered how but now arrived He knew the bare fact only, seeking here Fur detail deeming that his friend might know. This foreign duke cast anchor, Paoli told, With a large yacht about a month ago Early one placid morning near the shore : The lady fine new-settled in a villa And he appeai*ed inseparable friends. ' He was a scoundrel Avith a narrow brain ' Who held himself quite irresistible; ' Among the women whom he herded with 'Mayhap had proved it so; in higher types ' Of woman disbelieved, but he had spoken ' ( Her maid, a faithful creature, told me this) ■ Had looked and spoken as ill became a man • With a pure child who scarce believed in wrong. ' From then her mistress vaguely dreaded him; • V' - when he asked both ladies to the yachi, • She, nothing doubting since her feigning friend ' Would go with her, consented freely, glad 'To see a ship all praised as beautiful. 1 But when next morning the duke came ashore, 'The woman came not- never meant to come — 'To meet her as was settled on the strand, b .,[■ BEATRICE ' The traitor urged her waiting 'neath the shade 'Of the boat's awning, for the sun was fierce; A: id in a moment at a sign from him ' (So a mate told me) they had shoved the boat 'Off from the shingle, and he heard her call ' Loud but in vain for them to wait her friend ; 'None answering, the villain took his seat ' Close at her side and strove to seize her hand, ' She edging off and crying to return. ' The yacht weighed anchor, and a stiff nor'- we- ' Scarce felt in here, but fresh away from land, ' Sped her that evening far toward Corsica.' — ' In Corsica ? is that where I must go ? ' Clement broke in with husky tone abrupt, Clutching the word as lying in ambush for it. — 'In Corsica,' old Paoli resumed, ' This man — a Frenchman — owns a castle vast. ' There from the gossip of his crew I gather ' He must have taken her — this only chanced ' Four days ago — I deem the woman far 'More guilty than the man in this affair, ■ The friend professed — I know not if I err. 'But for her motive, that I cannot guc • lliin I can deal with,' Clement answered slow, ' How with a woman ? she preferred the gold ' To me, but deemed that she could have me too ' On her own terms and when the fancy came. BEATRICE o5 ' She thought me weak and plastic in her hands, ' Docile to take the shape her lust might crave, ' No more rebellious to her fingers lithe ' Than would be ductile clay that she might mould. ' So she had found men, so appraised me ' From superficial signs ambiguous, ' Nor guessed the human clay she paddled in ' Yielded because itself found yielding sweet ; 1 But let her twist the tame lump otherwise, 'As if a blade lurked hidden in the mass, ' 'T would cut her wanton fingers to the bone. ' I deemed sweet daily suns and tender showers ■ And many dewy moons of intercourse ' Had mellowed juiciest friendship-fruits in her, ' But lo ! on peering through the lavish leaves ' The fruit showed green and acrid as at firs ' She told me her deliberate thought of me, • And it was shallow and ungenerous. ' But she inspired, I deem, her precious friend ' With her own erring estimate of me — 'The worse for his facile credulity! ' She could not fancy I could ever love ' Any but her — once looking in her face — 'Tuns pique that drove me to another's arms! ' Lei her appear and beckon me away, [jet her but hint the other unworthy me, 'And I should drop at her least finger-brush, • Drop eager in her lap, how cheaply won! i. 2 36 BEATRICE 'What punishment could I devise for her, ' A woman ? I could never hurt a woman ' Weak in her flesh — not even if my love 'Were false to me — she must be left alone ' With her own meaner choice and with her shame ' This one I leave to her own scorpion tail ' Of vanity turned inward on herself, ' Cramped in her own small soul for evermore — ' That's punishment enough, methinks, for her — ' But not for him, a man can deal with man.' ' What can you do ? what would you do ? ' replied Paoli gravely, ' think of saving her • ' And you may save her, win her back to you ' Ere thrice again yon sinking sun hath set ' To lie upon your heart, and I can help ! ' — ' Yes, tell me, now at once I start to snatch ' My all from him and stretch him 'neath her feet, ' His place — his own — whence he has dared to stir ' With heart profane, for I was out of sight, ' The coward; since he would not stoop for awe ' Justice cries out that he must gTOvel dead ! ' — ' Nay, calm yourself, beloved friend of mine,' Answered the old man, ' leave him to our God 'The sole avenger — for what gain were yours ' In this man's death ? What more should you desire ' Than her salvation ? She awaits you now ' And longs for her deliverer : what gain BEATRICE 37 • To her or you the slaying of the man ? ' So you would only with infatuate hand ' Stretch dead for ever your reviving joy ' Even at the wondrous moment it emerged ' Scarce hoped-for from the shadow of the tomb. ' Blood would be on your consciences if law ' Hunted you not nor ran you down at last : ' If you must punish there are courts of law ; ' Cite there the man as public enemy.' 'Prate not of law, my friend,' replied the youth, 1 To me on fire with my most righteous hate, ' "Who nothing am if not one parching thirst ' For one heart's blood — not injury to me, ' But her whom God committed unto me, ' His dearest, tenderest, loveliest child among ' The children likest nearest to Himself, ' Her wrong in thunder-tones God bids avenge ; ' And if I shrink, how clear myself to Him ? ' It is her cause, not mine, it is the cause ' Of God her Father : in your holy books ' Where do you read 'tis sinful to avenge ' A lamb that Heaven has laid upon your breast, • Lent you awhile and trusted to your care? ' Xay, doth not Christ affirm who toucheth these ' Toucheth the very apple of God's eye ? ■ Avengers are the ministers of God! ' Let them but merge their puny selves and wroi BEATRICE ' In that vocation awful and sublime, ' Strong will their stroke be, calm and terrible. ' Prate not of law to me — it is an age ' I know of reason and expediency, • When dearest friends respectable and smooth ' Mine, countermine, beneath each others' feet, ' And sell their souls for shameful homage men ' Paid once to virtue, now to Hveries ; ' Age when a man is fool to trust his brother 'Yet dares not swindled clutch him by the throat, ' When if one should behold before his eyes ' A mother strangled or a wife abused, ' With judgment cool far-seeing he would stroll ' Enquiring where to find a magistrate ! ' Unfearing now you may insult a man, ' Unfearing too you may insult his friend — ' The barbarous dark age of honour dead. ' How should men start and shudder now to hear ' Such names as liar, knave, applied to them, ' When they have nigh forgotten that knavery ' And lies are base and very loathsome things, ' How prudent and respectable soe'er ' And orthodox in creeds a man may be ' To keep well with society and God ? ' Ah ! dare we babbling foul the holy name ' Of Christ, the wise the world-embracing heart, ' And his forgiveness of his enemies ? ' Dare we invest our native squalor with BEATRICE 30 • The fair word-raiment which of old He wore, ' And mimicking his accents and his gait ' Turn that divinest faith beneath the sun ' Into the byword of all honest men ! ' And then he argued, as concerning fact, That since the wrong was done in Italy And Corsica was French, the traitor there Was sheltered from the clutches of the law. For his own safety, what was that to him ? Yet must he leave her in the world alone, Nor taste again some hallowed Life with her ? Two years were theirs, two years of paradise, Envied of angels in the fadeless bowers, And they are thankful for them and rejoice — Yet who may sip the nectar-cup of gods, Nor passionately long to sip again ? ' Therefore my safety if I rescue her ' Is something to me — otherwise 'tis nought ' Less, less than nought ! ' ' Vengeance belongs to God, • Ilo will repay,' the other solemnly; ' I Jut I will freely tell you what I know 'Aboul your hope of safety where you go. 'Among inv countrymen there yet prevails ' Ala- ! ;i sentiment much like to yours, The which lias borne a monstrous crimson fruit, 10 BEATRICE ' Blood-feud (as such a seed must ever bear) ' Through ages, curse of my fair island home. 'That is a lire which smoulders even yet: ' Our rulers could not stamp the embers out. 'Your mission known the natives would assist ' And shield you to the utmost of their skill, ' Yet for success you need to know the spot ' And people of the place, and who can help. 'You take the steamer with the other folk ' In travelling thither ; but my brother owns ' A tight felucca, and will lend it me ' If weather smile for our secret return. ' His home is in the town upon the coast ' Nearest the castle on the rock above. ' A year ago moreover in the house, ' Full trusted by the owner of it, lived ' My distant kinsman but my nearest friend. ' His incorruptible true-ringing heart ' Will in such enterprise be all our own ' If yet he dwell there ; he can help within.' ' Then I may count on you,' Clement exclaimed, Seizing the old man's hand impulsively. ' On one condition,' was the grave reply, ' Forego your wild scheme of revenge and think ' Only of saving her ' — ' Impossible ! ' I cannot do it — anything but this — BEATRICE 41 ' Remember you are old and I am young. ' The traitor moved no hand against yonr love ' But against mine — if you "were in my place ! ' A boor "with human nature if his king ' Have fouled it wanton, spat i' the face of it, ' His loyalty engrained like hair aflame ' Shrivels to thin air suddenly, and he ' Yields his left cheek most meekly, his mere life, ' Up unto him who smote him on the right, ' The cheek of honour, trod on her he loves, ' Meek yields his all — if only — mark the if ! ' The chance be granted him to plunge and twist ' To agitate the blade in that false heart ' And lap its warm blood oozing to the haft. ' And I am not a boor — my blood more rich 'And ancient than yon duke's for all his gold, ' Got foully as I think, and puff-ball title 1 His sire crawled all his life about the dust ' Of a king's ante-room between the legs ' Of courtiers, a live footstool for the king, ' To wheedle from him, a mere fellowman ! ' The blood of monarchs and of nobles mine • Who led the advancing vanguard of their (imp, ' A noble myself, nor without hope to grave • My old ancestral name upon the age •With thought of rarer temper than the wont. 'But since my peers are fallen' with other folk 'Upon their face before the golden god I- UFA I i;n "Set with acclaim of nations and with clash •of all fair music in the world's high place — ' Sot up for worship by the prince of it — ' And I alas ! have scant rich offerings 'To offer like my equals to the god, • Nut even a daughter's heart, most dainty gift 'A parent can lay quivering at his feet, ' I walk apart in deep obscurity ' Confronting not the jeer of jingling fools. ' And me — for I am poor nor much frequent ' Their fashionable foolings, gatherings — ' This duke from them invades — for who am I ? ' Not less by birth, yet weighed and wanting found ' I' the loaded scales of his society ! • What if he swoop upon a pauper's wife 1 This gaudy jay — the Avoman should rejoice, ' Nor could the man complain ; or doth the mate 'Of yon meek finch the ravenous kite hath mauled ' Complain, or will the gorging tyrant hear ? ' And so he pounced upon my one ewe-lamb ! • She was my all, and I have nothing now; ' Nothing but my revenge ; and yet you bid, ' Yet you bid me fling my revenge away ! ' Is that your meaning ? I would touch it firm ; ' Can that indeed be what you ask of me ? ' Then the old man : ' Now hear my final word. ' Promise at least, that if you find she lives BEATRICE 43 e You will not seek to kill the enemy. ' If be have left lier life, you may not take ' His life away — or go you must alone.' Clement reluctant promised, and Lis friend Spake a few soothing solemn words to him About tbe Sufferer of sufferers That uigbt He fell among tbe sbadowy trees Upon His face in bitter agony Breathing ' Not My will, but Tbine own be done ! ' Then they embraced, and under a pale moon The youth bent leaden steps toward his home. And when he enters the familiar rooms Almost he deems it but a hideous dream, And that she quiet waits him in the house Somewhere; he knows not where, but to and fro vs through each empty room, as looking for her And listening for the gentle call he loves From somewhere nigh, yet feeling it is vain. Through dim moonspaces like* to one half-stunned Groping his way, the servants hearing steps Unbidden bring him light and needed food, And he shakes loose the stupor to arrange The morrow's journey, and to order all For his dependents as befits the case. Last worn and weary flings him on a couch, Vi t cannot cease to picture his shy bird I I BEATRICE Tiny and timorous, cowering in the glare Of that fool serpent's hungry glittering eyes, Wistfully craving him, but in despair Sinking and waning deeming him afar, And fearing he can never find her prison. Then schemes of vengeance boil within his heart, Fierce, incoherent, seething like a scum, Yet chilled anon with some vague consciousness That lie,- weak-healthcd, a man of inner life, (Not this alone, yet student in the main,) Shrank secretly through all his ravaged frame From striking that strong outward blow his soul Roared to him as from myriad throats to strike. Yet well he knows that he shall triumph here, Once warmed with goad of some insulting word, Or any opposition from the man. His proud strong will shall guide the aspen hand To deal as strong a blow as any clod. But then the temperament too sensitive Seeks, finds, ally in contemplative doubt. So drift in sight again the arguments Of the old peasant and his own replies, Till over-strained into a fevered doze He falls, the spirit racked and battling still, A chamber fall of loud discordant cries. BEATRICE 45 They go as planned, and landing at the port Of Bastia, they take a mountain path Known well to Paoli along the coast, That leads them to a village near the shore Below the castle eyrie which they seek. Blue as the bluest lapis-lazuli The sea they skirt, plashing as musical As yesterday along the Italian shore, Listless alternating soft silences With softer sound, as yonder bee anon Muffles low hum in some campanula Of nectared amethyst and hums again. The hawk swims high in supple shining air, And swallows twittering dart about the cliffs, Prom the Marina with its little pier Where loll the swarthy fishers gossiping About the windlasses, or in the shade Of stranded boats upon the furrowed beach Mending their nets and munching chestnut cakes — Opens a valley fair, and high therein :hes the village on a shelf of rock, ted in olives; but the glen below (A deep rich silt, plunder of flooding streams Prom wealth of mountains in the winter, dammed Their channel mouths unscoured of ebbing ti irmwaves piling sea-weed, Bhingle, sand) us now with beaded mace-heads of the mai And simmers with a paler bearded wheat, !' ; BEATRICE ii is the summer calm when yesterday, To-day, or any days we pair together, Are fair twin sisters men distinguish not. But yesterday the bosom of the youth Mirrored serenely the serenity, To-day it seems a hollow mask to him. Paoli enquiring finds his sailor brother, From whom he learns the foreigner indeed Brought his sweet prize four suns and moons ago. He pi-omises a cheerful aid to them Wliate'er betide, relating that the friend Staunch and leal-hearted Paoli had hoped To find within the castle there in sooth Yet dwells ; the fisherman expects him here Anon from Bastia, but yesterday Thither despatched upon affairs the duke Would trust to none beside reluctantly, Since if the gossips be but well informed The duke to him commits the special cha Of his sweet captive, closest prisoner. A charge assumed by Giudice that so He might secure her safety in the den Of the fell robber, choking down for her The indignation of his faithful heart. The master, who has squandered far in France His graceless youth, trusts the integrity Of that stern man his father trusted well. BEATRICE t7 Yet with the son integrity but means A doc's devotion to the master's wliim. Till now his few behests indifferent Giudice strictly taciturn fulfils. ' But he and I and all of us around ' Are Corsican, pure Corsican, and we ' Abhor such deeds : we love your countrymen, ' For they are freemen and have reached a hand ' To help us in our need ; moreover he ' That dukeling yonder — (here he sunk his tone) 'Giudice was away then as I think — ' Seduced a girl, sister to one of us, ' To o-o with him to France and ruined her. 'So if you punish not your wrong, my lord, ' There are those here who wait to punish theirs. ' So many sluggish and cold-blooded years ' Of foreign rule have crawled not over us. 'Thank (Jod Almighty, chilling our hot blood, • Hut our faint pulse as at a clarion call ' Leaps yet remembering Fior di Spina — she, ' Our splendid maiden with the eyes of fire, • Who in the public market-place of Corte • With hand unfaltering flashed the fatal shot 'That brought her faithless lover to her feet, 'Tumbled him humbled to a lump of clay ! 'O'er whom our poets trolled voceros brave, • Whom mightiest most illustrious warriors crowned 'Their queen in chestnut-forests of our i 48 BEATRICE So voluble and vehement outspoke The Corsican with, fiery face and eye, And Clement knew that he could trust the man. Scarce liad he ended ere stern Giudice Was in their midst and they the brothers twain Apart conferring with liim. He abrupt A minute after turned to Clement saying ' I will assist you now immediately, 'The lady ails, do you but follow me.' Well had he known remonstrating' appeal The libertine would but exasperate To violence and maiming of the hand That could alone assist the victim there, And he was of the few, the very few, Who if a breath would loosen an avalanche On his own head, yet save another life, Would palter not but breathe that breath and die. No words are spoken winding through the grain Or by the bleached stones of the torrent bed, Then through the maquis, brushwood of arbute Lentisk and myrtle, cytisus, rockroses Cropped of rough goats or silken horned sheep, Through olives and umbrageous chestnut-groves Up the rock path, till near the castle loomed, Portentous pile, squat like a monster toad Irregular and huge upon its crest, With ragged stones all blackened from the smoke BEATRICE 49 Of siege-fires in the turbulent past years, And chipped of bullets with abortive aim To silence shots from loopholes narrowing. And Clement dare not ask the meaning full Of that brief phrase ' she ails ; ' he only knows She lives, or he would not be guided here. But the guide pausing sharp addresses him, ' This morning with a party of his friends ' The duke goes shooting, has already gone. 'Now I will go before you to prepare ' The execution of our project, brief ' The time I need, and yet it will be best ' You should not burst too suddenly upon her. 'Therefore I take this track that leads direct, 'While leisurely you follow me by that ' Which makes a circuit; but observe the tower ' You must approach ; she lies imprisoned there. 'A private staircase and a private door 'Lead from it facing seaward; I dismiss ' The Fi'enchman guarding it and I resume 'The key entrusted to my special care: ' A rockhewn staircase drops abruptly down, ' Xo window from the castle overlooks.' Clemeni replied by wringing the strong hand And by a Look, then took the devious path 'Mong chestnut-trees and by a water-runnel, Making a circuit, facing the Btronghold v whi n mounted on its proper ridge i. 50 BEATRICE A half mile to the rear of it; and here A precipice fell sheer one side the path With tumbled boulders at the base of it O'ergrown of bramble and snapdragon flowers, While a thin burn meandered under these, Sparkling among the twinkling birch, anon Quenched in the solemn shadow of the pines. And now he heard a sound as of men's voices Approaching, often breaking to a laugh. Instinctively he drew into a hollow Behind a lentisk thicket 'neath a rock Jutting above the pathway where it curved, Whence he beheld three men with rifles equipped For shooting — they were Frenchmen by their dress And by their talk ; then Clement very pale, Even quivering but with a dangerous Gleam in his large dark eye, stepped forth and blocked The way, and hoarsely spake, ' I want the duke.' They started, but the midmost man replied ' I am the duke ; your business, sir, with me ? ' ' A word in private if these gentlemen ' Will give me leave.' The Frenchman lifting cap Requests his friends to saunter on before ; They passing turn the angle of the rock ; So lost to sight; the Frenchman visibly Sallows through all his bloated sallow face, A man with hard coarse mouth but half revealed BEATRICE 51 Through black mustachios tapering either end, A parvenu whose fashionable hauteur Is next of kin to vulgar insolence. 1 Well, sir, I Avould be going, will you speak ? ' ' I think,' said Clement, ' there is little need. ' You know mo and you know why I am here.' The Frenchman sneered, ' I fear the man is mad. ' How should I know you ? ' ' Then, sir, I am he ' Whose humble abode you lately stooped to visit ' To rob me like a common skulkino- thief ' As it appears, for when my back was turned ' You stole my jewel — skulking off with it ' To this remote wild-beast lair. Where is she ? ' What have you done with her ? no paltering.' ' Be calm,' the man with livid lips replied, Ill-feigning swagger of indifference. • Kemember whom you speak to — as for you,'' ' Who may you be ? ' ' Fellow, my ancestors ' Were kings and earls when jours were keeping swine, finish like their own swine, and base like you!' those fierce words of Clement's with a cry bh the duke raised suddenly the rifle I. rel with his shoulder; Clement folding arms fronted him: 'Night-thieves and murderers ' Are terms convertible, I am unarmed.' Whereon the other Lowering the rifle Thrust if upon the bank. ' Well, name your time ' And place. I'll give you satisfaction full.' B 2 52 BEATRICE 'You call it sal isf action ? I have hoard. ' So stands it — me, a thinker, man of peace, 'Albeit noble, a bully like to you 'All unprovoked invades, insults my wife, ' Tramples my honour underneath his boot, 'Draggles it for the dregs of men to hoot, ' And when I call him to account invites ■ Me to stand facing him for him to shoot. ' Large satisfaction to me for the wrong! 'Sir, y«m add insult to your injury!' ' If you're afraid,' the Frenchman sneered, ' I've done ' All in my power making you the offer.' And then he added with malignant look, Moi'e insolent since Clement had refused The duel with him, ' now I think of it, ' The woman there whom you have come to seek — ' Surely my lady friend at Monaco ' Must have informed you that 3-011 do me wrong ; ' I never forced her to come here with me ; ' She freely came, needed no pressing, sir, ' Nay rather pressed herself upon me ; so ' I think that even if you found her out ' (Hut this you shall not) at the castlo there ' She would request you travel back again.' So, foolish and unskilled in reading men, Babbled the upstart brutal arrogant, Misreading Clement like a traveller Who though he see yet little heeds the cloud BEATRICE 53 Of massy indigo slow bellying Half swallow-blue and half ash-wan until A big drop startles and sharp lightning blinds Him, leaping from its muffle unaware ; So the man failed to note or comprehend The hate full filling that face of his foe Confronting him while he insulted her, Until outleapt like lightning forked the words 'You lie: defend yourself: prepare for hell!' And rapid as the thunder on the heels Of a flash near us crashes after it, Followed the scathing syllables a blow Clement dealt suddenly with all his force On the man's chest, who reeled ; but staggering A ] line-trunk saved him : then upon the brink Of that abyss the two men grappled for life, - !n<_ r inLr there to and fro both maniac And blind with fury, their eyes lit from hell, Jamming and knotting tense and burning limbs i one monstrous bod}- like wild beasts Whose demon maw torn free from one raw spot Bui snaps again upon the ncaiv-t flesh To burrow there with slakeless lust of death. Both men were young ami nearly matched for I !i, T il'Ii Clemenl was Hie slenderer: Hie duke i had forced him nexi the precipice) f>4 BEATRICE Presently backward slipt — a treacherous tuft That he had dinted with convulsive heel Suddenly loosened from the very edge — And both were toppling over, for the duke Clutched Clement's arm and gripped it like a vice ; But Clement, throwing one arm about the trunk Hard by, with one fierce effort flung the man (Dangling, his forehead clammy with despair) Free from him sliddering, who dug his nails Into the rubble, a moment holding there : Yet Clement demon-hearted wrenched a stone Huge from its bedding, heaving it upon him ; Then shrilled a curse, alive with agony Death's horror and the hatred of the damned "Writhing and sinking fangs in Clement's heart, As the poor wretch let go and tumbled -back Over the crag inshelving with the stone, Bounding from point to point until he thumped A hideous quivering pulp upon the rock In the ravine, crushing the meek wild flowers. Clement watched, listened, breathing short and loud Kneeling with his two hands upon the brink, "With a fiend's relish sucking sight and sound, Following in spirit, ruthless thrusting him From shelf to shelf, and dancing on him dead ! Sparkles yon burn set in the dusk ravine With drowsy hum, the trail birch twinkle there, BEATRICE 55 The near pine sighs in gentle-washing air, Oozing with odorous gum in wrinkled bark ; Butterflies flutter out on holiday, Animate blue sky through the sunny blue ; Pink-pinks the chaffinch from soft-flickering leaves, Green lizards glance among the sunbaked stones, Or rest at gaze with shoulder on the stone And half their shadow, whirrs the cockchafer, Leaps the red cricket, flits the furry mouse To his smooth-patted hole in yon lush bank ; The jetty beetle sprawls upon his back Beading the lit speargrass with drops like blood : Nature serenely takes the death-struggle Of two mere men, serenely as she takes impaling of a sparrow by a shrike On yon bronze thorn, gulp of gay dragon-fly By darting swallow : nothing witnesses In her suave asjiect to the agony Of her two human sons; except a blade Here and there mangled on the very spot, Club-moss elastic from their dinting freed [Jpjerking now wee spore-capt stalks again, Cyclamen Boiled, half jammed into the ground By tin; fierce let that stamped and shuffled here — This, and the cor.se that stains the snapdragon Far yonder in the gloom of the ravine, And he who silent glares upon it ni'jli Kneeling, and leans upon two murdering hands. BEATRICE Book III Reaching the castle he finds the tower door That Giudice had bidden seek with ease, Opens it springing up a winding stair With stones well worn and old, nor anyone He meets — not Giudice — for Giudice Encountering unforeboded obstacles 13 ut now the Frenchman had decoyed afar, Perforce accompanying him awhile; So Beatrice knew nothing of the past. A room-door stood ajar — some smothered sound As of faint weeping fell upon his ear. He paused — it was — it must be she — yet she Sorely expects him — how he longed to rush And fold the form he thought that nevermore He might enfold, and suck (he poison out Of her dear life with one long look of love And one long kiss! yet hesitated he Remembering (he caution of his guide. What shall lie do ? no sign of Giudice — ' He may be hindered : I have but to reach 1 My hand to take her, she may slip from it; ' Some servitor may find his master dead.' This risk the greater, so with heating heart He shoves the massive iron-clamped door, BEATRICE 57 And stands upon the threshold— it is she ! At the embrasure of the narrow light ■ standing leans upon the cold harsh stone, Sun streaming on her neck and head, beyond Gleaming upon the untasted sumptuous meal Behind her served in milk-white porcelain, And gloating on the crimson velvet pile — From when he burst upon her in the spring Of her young life (ah ! not so long ago, The same sun kindling the same wealth of curls) How changed alas ! grey cheeks in her thin hands, Her eyes peer wistful on the sea, but dim With unshed tears and hollows dark beneath. Her face looks wan like latter primroses That linger draggled with much dust and rain, And all her listless form breathes hopelessness. Ali ! when we hear the faint pulsations fail Of Hope the angel's wings upon the night, Who parting from us turns his face to heaven, stricken at heart soon falters after him. Careless the ordering of her gracious hair, Sleek-brown, and of her modest summer dress Of muslin blue and white. the dress he loves, Of old though simply faultlessly disposed. • turns not at the creaking of the door, Deeming 'tis but the servant, caring noi Thai snake-like maid should deem her spiril weak, BEATRICE Until he makes a step — something in that Turns her sharp round— a sudden light leaps up Iuto her eyes, suffusing all her face. ' Clement ! ' she cries, a cry of ecstasy Incredulous half with dazed fear, mistrust; She spreads her arms to fly to him, hut pain Shoots sharply through her; swims the scene around Dizzy and dark ; she tottering, he runs To strain a lifeless hody to his breast. Then, sick at heart, he gently lays her down Upon the bed, chafing the icy hands And limbs, and breathes his breath between her lips, In vain, until a step resounds below ; Giudice rushes in, but seeing them Stops short, and snatches from a dark recess A phial, which applied by him revives Her from the deadly swoon, but after long. And then he whispers that there wait beneath Some trusty Corsicans who bear a litter Disposed with cushions easy for the sick, Since he had well foreseen that Beatrice Was now too Aveak to travel otherwise. ' Only delay not or we may be lost.' They carry her between them down the steps, Tenderly laying her upon the couch And sheltering with coverings freely lent. Four men to bear her with a cautious tread BEATRICE 59 Amono- dense cork-trees, Clement close at hand With sonl divided, half in rapture glowing To know her there, and half in anguish dipt, • Chill with foreboding which he shakes from him In vain, for aye it settles on him again, From seeing the fell ravage this brief time Has wrought in her so tender, sensitive. Her eves are shut from feebleness, at peace Her fevered spirit now to feel him there, Opening anon and resting on his face, Those large mild eyes, mazy as forest leaves, Suffused with love-light mellower than day. Anon she opens them to make it sure It is no blissful fleeting dream she dreams, But him indeed, and then the eyelids veined Droop low again to prison the vision close For lovesick soul to linger gloatingly. Lest by exciting he may injure lier He speaks not; only once when they have paused To rest, and make some change in carrying her, He bends above her whispering 'My own, ' The sea-air will revive you, and to-morrmv 'They say we shall be home — our little home — ' And then you Avill grow strong, and never I 'Will Leave you an)- more, my only one.' She smiles a placid though a languid smile, A -mile Like dimpling <>f a water still In tiny sunlight ripples when a drop 60 BEATRICE Drips from an 08! suspended on its face. 'To-morrow, yes, to-morrow 1 shall be 'At home,' she murmurs vaguely, dreamily. Then looks to Clement, whispering earnestly, 'It is enough: we have each other now. 'How Lave I prayed for this;' hut then the tears From weakness and emotion well again. The men resume their burden all too light, And as they travel, through the blinking leaves Gleam summer lightnings from the tiny wave With intervals of blue unruffled rest, Which blends in Clement's musing spirit now With that soft gleam of her faint opening eyes Grown vague and vaguer like a weary child's And their soft closing as in tranquil sleep. Waits the felucca — she is borne asleep On board of it: 'Name your reward, my friend,' Clement in taking leave of Giudice Has said ; but he ' Reward would only come ' To steal the crown King Conscience crowns my deed ' Withal. I thank you, and I glad accept ' Your feeling to me, but you know not, sir, ' How sore for poor men of integrity ' Their impotence of doing such, as you, ' The rich they honour, some kind turn unbought.' Warmly those gallant fishers every one Bade them God speed, and Paoli liberal BEATRICE 61 For Clement dealt a largess to the men. Bach brings his little offering for their voyage And presses it upon them, coverings, A coat of oil-shin, bread and chestnut cakes, A wine jar of pure grape juice with leaf bunches Stopping the mouth ; they set the sail lateen The owner and his brother Paoli ; And soon careening to a fair brisk breeze Dances away the tight felucca-boat Swelling her sail, with pitchy cutwater Cuffed in its prancing of the merry waves, Shivered their baffled sapphire into foam That frills the blue with evanescent lace, Liners in flying melting in the wake ; "While Clement, whose delight is in the sea To dwell by, sail on, swim and revel in, The briny blow exhilarates; he feels lh' can breathe free again, that she is safe, Triumphs in his success and fills with he Near her I - over sea Toward their home, their sweef home over sea: ■ Now ie my ouf raged honour lull a. engi •And ali her wrong:' his thought reverts to th No monstrous duty suffocating now! Mon ' . for one high friend and half h Named : ' a crime, while all his righteous wrath, His pride of caste, his individual pride, tunned, confused him with their counter-cries ; BEATRICE Bui deep mistrust of Lis own temperament Shrinking from violence through every nerve, Desi that should weight the scale conventional Unduly, and lie branded as a coward Among his own hidden thoughts live evermore, This had inclined the balance to revenge: And yet he travelled up the castle path With purpose indistinct, remembering And half mistaking what his promise was To Paoli before the cottage door — Chance the midwife of men's imposing deeds. Then he enacted o'er the tragedy, And shuddered, picturing the agony Of the man's look in digging bloodless nails Into the rubble, till the crash of stone Upon his fingers, and the curse in death, Tingled all through him with the writhing tumble And ghastly thud of what had been a man. ' You would have reached a hand to him for all ' He may have done to you my gentle child ! ' What will you feel when you shall come to learn, ' When you shall know, that sweating cold he hung ' 'Twixt life and death, and I with hatred blind ' In a brute's soulless frenzy hurled him forth 1 For ever out of God's blest light of life, ' Where we all dwell by sufferance of Him! '(loaded (Iirreto — not solely by my love — ' But by my own poor pride trailed scornfully BEATRICE G3 ' And fouled of that man's feet — feet insolent ' With sickening beslavering of fools ' "Who take the gewgaw puppet they themselves ' Have fashioned from the slime to be a god, ' Adorine their own drivelling handiwork ! ' And should I suffer — I no doll but man, • A man with power of brain to fashion men ' To their appointed end and point the way, ' A noble banned of that society ' "Which honours such as he ; nay, voluntary ' Exile from those plebeian-natured men — • Say, should I suffer this automaton ' For all its human shape to grind me dead, ' Or should I seize it in the nick of time - tatter and shiver all its cunning springs, ' So save a man, so vindicate the right 'Here where the anarch red Injustice reigns, • Braising in him the world which does me wrong? — ■ Wrong to myself! ah! 'tis myself, myself, Only myself, disguise it as I will. ■ Forgiveness of a Christ who would haA r e reached ' A hand of mercy even to such a foe, ' This might have saved a human soul for God! ■ Perchance al leasi 1 might have saved mine own, 'Holding this maniac hand from slaying him, • A lucre weak- man, a puny enemy, • I lut wounding slaying a far deadlier foe, 'The- monster parasite, my selfishne -, G4 BEATRICE 8 Waxen fal upon fclie ntals of my spirit; ' With one grand bound upswung myself to Christ ! 1 And vet — and yet — if I had lifted him 'And he had slain me, what had chanced with her ? ' 1 dared aoi save for Beatrice's sake. ' Did duty bid me leave my tender child 'In clutches of a wcre-wolf human-guised : Even when my barrel covered the foul beast? ' Fantastic virtue of a casuist ! ' In this cold-blooded analytic age ' We peer on deeds with such a mental lens, ' Some subtle tissue grows upon the sense, ' But we can name no more what thing we see. ' for the instinct fine, the eagle gaze, ' Of stalwart men who march to mighty deed ' Straightforward, halting fumbling not as we ' Who blindly drift to action wondering ' If what we limply hold be good or ill. 'We grope in fogs of a too curious thoug'ii. ' We breathe oppressed for thinking how we breat be. ' I only know yon corpse lies heavily 'Upon my heart, as on 3 T on dragon-flowers ' Whose crashed and gaping moixths are red with gore.' Then his eye fell upon the primrose face Of her who slept : so faded sunk it w;is He shivered, venturing not to look and see What pale vague fear lurked ghostly in his heart. But now she moved and made a muffled cry BEATRICE 65 As from some ghastly vision in her sleep. He turning to her kissed and softly called : !She crying again and starting from his touch Woke quivering, moaning, fixing a scared look Upon his face, then softened as she looked And knew him, melting underneath his eyes To love and joy and trust inviolable, Like some frail snow-flake melting in the sun. Then all stole back upon her, where she was, And how ; she whispered ' for a moment, love, ' I thought he held me, and behold ! 'tis you ! ' She smiled so sweet a smile ; he prayed her tell If she were able something of the past. She told him the same story Paoli Ji;ul Learned of how the duke decoyed her thence. § partly from her shy and broken words, In part from notes which she had written yonder And Clement later read in solitude, He framed a story featured like to this. The traitor in the cabin of the yacht Addressed her with unbridled words of shame, I rging his reckless flame to justify The violence that he had dared to use. • A spark of boldnesB women admire, he knew, ' Kindled in men by their consuming eyes.' She wept insulted, hut the fool obtuse tolled the brilliant life that she should lead 66 BEATRICE In his French castle or Corsican— she would Not hate him when she knew him something more. But when he neared her offering to touch She shrank aside as from a leper's brush, Drew herself up — for dignity and strength Were hers in dire extremity — 'hold off!' She cried ; ' you prate of boldness, a base coward ; ' If Clement had been near, would you have dared ' — But then at naming Clement's name she broke To tears again with sobbing ' Clement, Clement ! • Why were you far from me, my own, my own, 'Where are you? — Do you really think ' she spoke Again to her tormentor 'that a woman ' Who has loved him and been beloved by him, • Kven were he dead, nay buried a hundred years, ' Could stoop to love so poor a thing as you ? ' He paled, she said, with anger at the words, Quivered with hideous disappointed rage And answered — ' Are you saintber than the rest ? ' Coyness they all affect, and yet I find ' All ductile to my fingers like warm wax : ' But time will show — remember only this, 'You're in my power and likely to remain.' Then forth he went and slammed the door behind. She saw no more of him the voyage through ; He sui-ly chewed in silence his rebuff, Bewildering to him the ill-success. A little of her undiluted scorn BEATRICE w And loathing in this interview with her Had eaten through the tough rhinoceros hide. He never met a women like to her, Scorned faith in such ; this woman dazed him sore. He came not in the castle for awhile, Irresolute on what were best to do. His lacerated vanity drew horns Within the shell shrinking from some fresh wound. If he surrounded her with all respect, Ail care and luxury, and left her free Unimportuned awhile and undisturbed, She in her loneliness might even crave His presence, brooding on his passion strong, Over his grandeur and the princely state Thai he would gird his paramour withal. And if she loved her mate (scarce credible To him from that report the marchioness 1 1 ad made him of the man) she would forget — They all forgot — when days elapsed and nought Of him or from him she should hear ; himself 1 1 id been abrupt and blundered ; she was not . to win, but needed skill to play, y the more in landing her; he'd say • 1m- bad beard since from the marchione-- 1 m bad returned and seemed consoled al of bis commerce old With her own self-aud so but yesterday. i 2 68 BEATRICE The duke Lad plucked up heart to go again To Beatrice, despatching Giudice Craving for leave to visit her anon When it should seem most fitting to herself. She giving forced consent he came to her With deferential courtesy and minced ' He only wished to see that all her wants ' Were full supplied — she had but to command.' She answered ' Only give me liberty ' To seek my husband.' ' Madam, even in this ' I will obey you,' cunning he replied, ' Though I should sign my own death-warrant sO, ' If you still ask it after what I tell.' And then he ehuckling told the cruel lie. With confidence he spoke and half believed Himself the falsehood, for the marchioness Had said that Clement hankered after her. The bold abrupt words with a deadly chill Struck on the poor child, for she knew of old He and the lady had been closest friends ; But then the glorious incredulity Of love in face of all most damning facts, A moment pale, emerged triumphantly ; The gross but specious lie that frighted her Changed to a hideous yet transparent mask Masking the traitorous leering of a liar. ' Add not base slander, sir, and calumny 'To your foul injury — you and your friend BEATRICE 69 ' Can compass not the deathless fealty ' Of two leal hearts that love, and you blaspheme ' The sacred name whene'er you utter it. ' Clement and I can never cease to love ' Let come what may ; if one were in the grave, ' The other would love on, and there in heaven, ' there we'll love each other undisturbed, ' And only love each other evermore ! ' Yet can a man be wicked as you seem ? ' I love him, sir, and he Clement loves me : ' I think you did not know it, do not know, ' You've been deceived ; the lady made you think ' We cared not for each other, that he cared ' For her and not for me, but that was false. 'He was all true, though I was often cross, ■ Nor clever like to him, and could not talk ' Of learned things to him, and he was noble ' And I was poor ; but then he knew how large ' My heart was, and he ruled there all alone. ' Let me go back to him, kind lord, I pray. • lb- brinks liis bead (here, mine is breaking here ! • You do not seem unkind, but I am dying, ' 1 feel I am, and O ! if I should die • With not one look from his all-precious face 'To carry to the Lonesome grave with me!' She falto red here and brake to bitter tears. Peelings alternating had chased inch other In the man's mind — astonishment and rage, 70 BEATRICE Bewilderment, compunction, jealousy, A maudlin admiration fuelling His jealous lust — she looked so lovely now! And last the sense that she was safely trapped Within his grasp, no witness to the wrong He had heen gloating o'er the vision of. In speaking she had risen from her seat, Advancing near him wringing her frail hands : A step he made and seized her by the wrist ; She glancing quickly caught his wicked look, Snatched herself free — ' How foil me ?' he exclaimed ; ' Escape me now ! ' she clutching wild a knife That lay nigh from the scarcely-tasted meal Waved it with flashing eyes and answered ' So ! ' Giudice entering, the baffled duke Retired with baleful gaze and ne'er a word. Then when he went she turned to Giudice, Telling her story and imploring him Piteously to befriend her ; Giudice Was only charged that morning with her care, And scarce had spoken, but something in his look Encouraged her to this forlorn appeal. He soothed her like a father, settling her Tender upon the couch and promising, Though with a few brief words, to be her friend. And she confided in him like a child, He cheering her and bidding her be brave BEATRICE 71 For Clement's sake, and holding out a hope That he might soon contrive release for her, Concluding ' I am near you ; only ring 1 This little bell if you have need of me.' She thanked her God for him upon her knees That night, yet felt as if her slender strength, Which needed kindly breath to foster it And strong warm hands to chafe it, ebbed apace : ' I shall not see Mm : no, he will not come, ' Or he will come too late, when I am gone. 'My God! for him to look upon this face 'And 1 not know it! Ah, for him to press ' His mouth to mine, and I not feel him there! ' One kiss more, Father, only one ; I go ' Willingly, happy, holding thy dear hand, ' Into the darkness : never looking back, • Xot once, to where he stands in thy warm light, ' If only, Father, thou wilt grant this prayer ; ' But watch thou over him when I am gone !' a from her sleepless bed the child arose, Stole to the window in her linen white, And looked toward the only spot she loved Along the niooiipath flecking tremulous And thin the sea, like her own quavering hope, Lost in the far immeasurable gloom; Looked athwart groves in elf-light huddling grey, Ruffled their dream to whisper murmurous 72 BEATRICE As from strayed elfwing skimming daintily — But while the moonlight trickled through the leaves, Ation their dusk heart kindling would seex'ete Prom it a voice, so rendered it again To-night in guise of song etherial pure As its own self, now plaintive soft and low Now radiating, flashing all abroad, Articulate moonlight, named a nightingale. That was her post all day, she would not stir From thence ; though books had been provided for her, Listless she turned their leaves but could not read. Paper was there, and pens, and she had written Something for Clement about every day, What happened, what she felt, at evening written. Save for this only crept the weary time In gazing through the loophole over sea, Hailing each sail and watching eagerly Its fleeting tranquil in the offing by Hazy through silver labyrinths in the blue — Why the child knew not, only it might come Perchance and land him here ; at least it came, Blest thing, from yonder, j^onder where he was ; The steamers — how 'she peered for a faint stain Of smoke to dusk the delicate white down That feathered yon hoi*izon to the north, Hingeing those azure valves of sky and sea ! And the first days at every step or sound BEATRICE Without she fluttered : it might he the duke, It mi°dit be Clement landed unaware. D She listless watched the coral lady-birds Creep up the stone and splitting speckled shards Of tiny fans unruffling for a flight. Ah ! how she envied yon brown melon-girl Emerging from the cork grove up the steps Of rock, her apron full of luscious fruit, Chiding the dark-eyed roguish peasant-boy, Yet laughingly, for winding his strong arm About her waist, endangering the melons. Ah ! how she envied yon imperial bird, Sublime possessor of immensity, Breasting illimitable light, elate Inhaling rich exhaustless draughts of life ; Or tiny siskins chattering as they flit, Picking brown pine-cones for the kernels lithe. A little silver lamp, with branches three Budding soft light, and chain-swung candle gear, They brought at evening, dim developing The low-groined roof of stone, oldings and cusps, Spilling a random gleam on Persian rugs, And oaken earven chests and Gothic chairs. Qiudice pulled her flowers the eve he came, Purple corncockle, amaiyllia white, Crimson pomegranate-blossom, cyclamen. She plunged her gaze in these: they 'jrrew at home: r I BEATRICE He loved them, she might be disposing them In their wee room to-night, or weaving them Into her gracious hair ; then languidly She moving to a mirror 'gan to braid Her tresses with them, plucking them away Sudden and strewing them upon the floor, Breaking to crying ' he will never see them, ' O ! nevermore. I only long to die.' At night she started from a shallow sleep With but the gnawing of a wainscot mouse, Or cracking of some dry wood with the heat ; Then she lay sick at heart, hearing the tick Of death-watch weevil in the panel nigh, Watching the first faint grey of dawn suffuse The loophole, and the earliest twittering bird In the near carob as he stirred and spun In a fine drizzle from his down the dew ; Yet this but ushered in the loathsome day, Which still might turn to lovely, bringing him ! Then he related what had chanced with him In brief outline, but passing one thing over, His meeting with the duke : she seemed so weak, Nor dared he mar the present with a tale Painful to her and damping to their bliss. Now when in silence eyes were drinking eyes, She feeling faint, the tactful Paoli, BEATRICE 75 Who kept aloof till now, at sign from Clement Filled from the wine-jar some restoring wine Presenting it to her : she smiled upon him : ' Good Paoli,' she murmured, ' ah ! how good ' Have many been to me, how happy now ' I am who late repined and doubted God ! ' — ' He does bat turn a moment his full face 'Away, yet holds us if we see or no; ' Still fold about us Everlasting Arms,' The old man answered, bending low his head With silver hah', and kissing her frail hand. In sunset now flush tiny clouds like down Torn from the bosom of some gentle bird, 5 rewn fluttering crimson with her meek life-blood By some fierce vulture's talons and bald beak, Assailing her in heaven innocent, Tranquil in airs hued like the iris-bloom. Ami as the sun sank in the western water She shivering the two threw over her A mouflon skin one sailor lent to them. And then she whispered Clement to bend near. 'Clement,' she said, 'I may not look again ■On Italy with yon, on our sweet home; 'You'll Bee it. dear, hut aot with me; how well ■ I would have loved once more to see it with you ! ' It may not lie- ah ! Clement, do not weep;' I ft be wa- sobbing, crushing the Little band, I the 1m it tears fell blindly on her face, 76 BEATRH'K So she wept too — 'why think of this, my own? ' You feel so weak, but you will soon be well ; ' I'll take you back to England ; 'tis the heat, ' And all you've suffered.' ' Nay,' she soft replied, ' It may not be, my precious, it is time ' You knew it, for I feel the end is near : ' You must bear up ; at first it will be hard, ' But you will learn to live without me, love.' ' I cannot : where you go there I must go, ' I cannot live without you anywhere. ' You would not leave me — O my Beatrice ! ' He sobbing kneeling by her clasped her round With his face close to hers — and if her foe Drew nigh in any quarter from without, He must have rent the man to hurt the child. Yet now alas ! it was no human foe ; But He that gave demanding her again. Yet soon with strenuous effort he controlled Himself, remembering what pain to her His anguish wild must yield ; she spake anon : ' 'Tis terrible to leave you, love, but He ' Who made us ah ! how bappy wills it so. ' Shall we receive the good and not the evil ' From the same hand ? 'tis the same Father, love, ' Offers both cups. I do not fear to die. 'All has been well, and all must yet be well. ' I know that wheresoever I may go, BEATRICE ' If my soul live, my soul must be with you ; ' Ere I can leave you I must cease to be ; ' Only you will not see me for awhile, ' Until you join me where I go before. ' I told Him I would take His hand and go • When He should call, and not look back to yon, ' If I could see you, kiss you once again ; ' You'll help me not to break my word to Him. ' Where will you put me ? in the little garden ? — ' That would be sweet, that warm spot in the sun. • Where the wild thyme breathes fragrance fitfully, ' The free blithe bee hums near one, then afar, ' Among the planes, hushed o'er -with lullabies ' Eternal from the sea — our favourite spot, ' Where you will come and lie as we were wont ' To lie, and think about your little child. - ■ will be near you, very near you still, ' I'nder your feet, ah! not upon your breast! ' 'Twas there I lay longing for you to come — ' And do you know, dear, it is very strange, 4 But yonder in the castle while I stood ■ • >■ ■ • : 'ing g az i u g homeward I believed • That I was there awhile again, I saw 'The root bo plain, I smelt the smell of thyme, ■ I even thought I Baw yon <-oming to me — ' But then I Btarted, knew it was a vision.' And nt marvelled musing on his vision r8 BEATRICE Of her, but had no heart to spoak of it. 'Next year the grass and daisies will be fresh ' And fair upon the spot as they are now. ' Then when He calls you, you will come and lie 'Still nearer me, down under the warm grass; ' You'll come there, won't you ? you will keep the spot ? ' He only pressed her closer for reply, And but a rare sob broke the silence now. She seemed to want to speak again, and signed With a weak gesture for the cordial, Which Clement took and tilted 'tween her lips. 'We wished,' she said, 'to have one little babe ; ' Would for your sake it had been ordered so ! 'You could not have been lonely then — but if, ' If you are very lonely you must try ' And love again ; you need not cmitc forget — ' Keep one warm corner for your little one, ' One only in your large heart — only one. ' She will not mind, I think, and yonder, there 'In God's full facelight, there is room for all ! ' Her glazing eyes looked heavenward and she smiled. ' Forgive me, love,' in broken accents now She gasped, 'that I could not be all I wished ' To you, I was not clever enough for you, ' You know — and I was peevish very often ; ' But I have loved you ; you'll forgive me, sweet? ' BEATRICE 79 ' 'Tis you, 'tis you,' he faltered; 'nothing I ' Have to forgive, but you have much, my own ; ' I tried you sore — but you have borne with me ' Like my own guardian angel that you were, ' And that you will be, till I turn to dust. ' My God ! my God ! may that be very soon.' The breeze now scarcely flapped the idle sail Against the mast, each little ripple kissed With sueking plash and tilted the dusk boat, Some oar knocked, and the loose-held tiller creaked ; And while he watched her face he heard the sound, And knew the tender mellowing apple-green And primrose yellow faded in the west. But the change came into it, nameless change And fearful ; and he called her by her name : The lips moved shaping 'Clement,' as he thought ; One laboured inspiration, and 'twas peace, Peace in the gentle breast for evermore. 'She's gone,' a tender voice beside him said; I' was the old man bending over them. It' Clemenl heard he only buried his face In hers whence all the warmth ebbed, and his arm Threw round that face with fingers in the hair, And pressed his mouth to hers convulsively, A^ though be deemed that if his living brat Conld ii"i pass into her, at least her cold Mighl pass to him; and he might be for ever 80 BEATRICE Henceforth dead cold with her: for life was dear Because she lived ; now lite was naught, and death — Death was all-dear to him — for she was death. Vain were the kind rich words of Paoli In his deaf ear, and vain his gentle force To draw him from her now that she was gone. It needed all the strength of all the men To draw him, as was needful, from the corse ; And, when they drew him, the wild vacant eye And wildered gesture told the mind had given. Freshened the breeze as night grew old ; the moon Sailed high and clear in heaven ; but he sat Staring toward the silent muffled shape. Since he was quiet grown, old Paoli Suffered him near the stretcher sit again On an old box of fishing-gear ; and still, Wrapt in a cloak, he sat there all the night. Only at intervals he lifted up A corner of the veil upon her face ; Looked at her, kissed her forehead, and if any Walked loudly near in managing the boat, He turned and placed his finger on his mouth With, ' Hush, she sleeps ! as quiet as you can ! ' Almost indeed, if he had been himself, He might have deemed that she was but asleep Now in the moonlight, quiet and serene. When the same moonlight shone into their room, BEATRICE 8 I In the dear villa yonder, many a night. And fell npon her face with him awake, Did it look very otherwise ? — the long, Long lashes of each upper eyelid closed, -Mazed with sweet sister lashes from beneath, Laying fine shadow on the delicate cheek ; The pale brow misted round with tender mist Of hair that deepens o'er the placid head — Only there is no waking any more. So wore the night ; and the day following, In afternoon, they made the little port — A gemlike harbour all in miniature ; Its shining feudal palace on the rock, With sentinel and cannon, cypress-cone Relieved against the light, palmetto, palm ; The liny steamer, with few fishing-boats, In sapphire alternate with emerald ; Fringed fair with houses white 'mid orange-groves, Embastioned of mountain-crests abrupt. !!'■ who bad taken, it seemed unconsciously, Borne little food they offered followed quiet Paoli and those who bore that burden meek Upon i In- Bhore, and only bade them heed To take her gently — "tis a healthful sleep; 'She needs it: sJi<- was very tired, you know.' i had overheard her when she asked i' m to bnry her in that green spot B2 BEATRICE Within their garden — now arranged it so. He did for Clement, with the maiden's help, All Clement would have wished and done, he knew ; AVrote to the consul of his nation nigh, Who came, hut after the sad funeral. Once only, when the hearers shuffled round The deep grave, and the ropes were griding round The coffin, Clement, who had sunk, it seemed, Into a stupor vacant while they did Their ghastly office for the heedless dead, Sudden awoke and spread his arms and rushed Toward the hole and shouted wild her name ; But they by force restrained him, leading him Into the house, where till the following day When the kind consul moved him to the town, He wandered up and down, as he had done That evening ere he sailed to seek for her — Peering as then about their little room, Above, below, as seeking her, and pausing As if he listened, fancying she called. And he would finger all her little things — Her shawls and dresses, bracelets, and her work With needle left in it, the little stocking For some poor child — wearing an air intent, As waiting half bewildered for her step Upon the stair, and listening for her voice. BEATRICE 8 Book IY By kindly tending was the mourner won, How loth soever, back to common life ; Who after reckless roaming in far lands Bent last his coarse towards his native shore Imperatively summoned thitherward. And still he loved to minister to want, Warm friend to grief, and still a mellow smile He wore for innocent joy and loving bliss ; But his bright carls were thin upon his brow ; Wan, pale, and aged untimely he appeared, While fixed sadness like a yewtree cast Perpetual gloom on his deserted heart As o'er some ruined cloister which the living Tread no more but avoid ; 'tis consecrate Unto the dead who rest beneath its flags. Alas! for him restless philosophy 11 it I peered and fiugered till the walls of creeds, venerable and solid as they seemed In the twilight, fell crumbling here and there, Or tore to shreds and gaping made a way For dismal wind and rain that are no dream. Bui he was of a soul amphibious, i element 8 essenl ial unto it, One fur imagination and for thought, u 2 .> 84 BEATRICE The other, sustenance of life and love. He lived and loved, he lost himself in her, A second self far dearer lovelier Than his own self; she from his vitals torn, Earthward he sank all mangled to the core. Forget he could not, would not if he could ; And things which could not love pronounced him weak, And things without a mind pronounced him fool, Sneered at his dark and vain philosophy ; While ruddy animals of vigorous frame Strutted and gabbled of strong character ; While pious folk averred he made an idol Of her he lost, and God was jealous of her, dealous of Clement's mighty love for her, Counting it so much pilfered from himself. Was God then but a greater Marchioness? Clement should lavish not his love on her, But while she shivered in the outer cold, He with mouth rigid, lifting treacherous eyes, Should say ' 'tis corban ! ' spilling it in the snow. We may be impotent in love, but ah ! Shall we blaspheme the Ail- Fat her for our fault? The Love Eternal feeding our Aveak love, Yearning to flush it through a myriadfold Until it leaps and broadens to embrace In its divine blaze all the universe — The Love Eternal jealous of our love ! BEATRICE 85 Tet lie became do hermit, only he, Though unforeseen he had inherited The title of his forefathers and estates, Could herd not with the brainless moneyed tribe Who swarmed about him crawling at his feet ! Old stately dames, portly or vulture-necked, Grew unaware obsequious and bland ; He trode upon them as they seemed to crave, But straightway drove them forth Avithout their dole, While they with meekness very Christian Endured his ' little eccentricities.' Could he have taken, as he was wont of yore, What we name heaven for grand reality, Not for mere painted splendours in the dome, Jl«' might have held communion witli her still, Scarce interrupted by the change of death ; Failing but as the recognition fails A moment of a friend we left in pain And sorrow, whom we find again elate And radiant with health and happiness: ' Indeed I did not know you ' Ave exclaim, ! I .' straight we know him and rejoice together. • 1 1 1 u j i i < > 1 1 with her would only fail Through death :is recognition fails when we Are travelling and come to some fair spot In twilight, vague aware of dusky scenes, Water and mountain ; in the sunrise j BEATRICE When we awake and fling the window wide Beholding mountains crowned and girt with light, Torrents and lakes their trains of flashing gold. He would have shivered gazing down the chasm Where she seemed lost, but would have heard anon Her call from yon sunslope, and shading eyes, Dazzled a moment, have beheld her climb Godward for aye buoyant and luminous ! But Reason banned the quest forlorn of Hope, And coldly sternly whispered ' she is dead.' For so alas ! ran Clement's wayward thought — ' Though nought may perish in the universe, ' Yet Nature is the Proteus in a flux ! ' For us we live in children, or in friends, ' In every moment's subtle influence. ' But is not influence expended power ' Feeding the world upon the garnered store ' We name a person ? for the tissues wear, ' The organs fail, slow dwindles out the store. ' Not the most selfish man can live for self, ' But lovers take the life-law to their hearts. ' They give themselves — God takes them at their word : ' Who shall complain ? His universe will grow 'A little by their grand self-sacrifice, 'And they fulfil their own ideal so.' So Clement deemed she lived indeed, but lived In him, in all the noble and good in him ; BEATEICE 87 Her life, as boastless of its nectar rare And jet as lavish of it as the flowers, Living in him transmuted, flowed again, Like nectar grown to honey in the bee, Rich stored in cells of individual art To feed mankind ; yea and her very death Wailed in the weird magic of his strain, Tinged all his song with its own plaining minor, Sinking to human spirits' very root ; Circuiting wider, meshing souls who dwell In dark seas of experience and deep — ' Yet can the individual person cease ? ' Would that she lived yet, howsoever far ' From me ! wept Clement often — 'tis a dream, ' Beautiful, natural, noble, yet a dream ! ' For why may not the individual cease ? ' The newborn babe was none a year ago — ' Itself but person now in embryo.' Yet it had been herself that Clement loved, The lovely childlike maiden and no other ; No principle; a simple country girl; And still he yearned for love to fill his heart. But should he banish his once chosen child I ; ause she nestled in his bosom no more? y were to love for ever; was a year Or two so long to keep her memory green, To keep her memory green with secret tears? BEATRICE Then would come death, dear death, with breath grown sweet And warm from kissing on so dear a mouth. Must he wipe out the Eden of his life So elean from reverence and memory ? Fur him he could not. A mysterious Chamber there was in gallery remote Of the ancestral castle where he dwelt. None entered there but, in the dead of night, Himself — 'twas whispered that her picture hung There and before it ever burnt a lamp. There were the precious little remains of her, Dresses and trinkets, hooks and some dried flowers They pulled and pressed together in the South. And some affirmed that he who worshipped not In any temple worshipped nightly there. For was not she the noblest symbol God Vouchsafed to Clement's own especial life, Next unto Christ, supreme and given to all ? At times he felt she must he living still ; Did not her spirit flash upon his own At intervals ? she seemed so very nigh — Yet that might he a vision of the brain ! While others spilling malice from their fangs, Because to herd with them amused him not, BEATRICE 89 And lie was proud to all pretentious folk, Hinted him not abstemious from delights Of sense, as men might deem for all his love Buried in that one little grave with her. Yet since his intimates, (but one or two) For all his genial sympathy, no more Set foot in certain precincts of his life And strange lone tortuous spirit than within That gallery of his ancestral castle, Ancient and vast and tombed in snowclad pines, This was but vague suspicion to the last. Yet he was not the man that he had been. Though stern he seemed and silent commonly, When mortal anguish and despondency Sombred him more than wont — he shut himself For days alone, nor any ventured nigh. But from his incoherent muttering, Some deed or deeds of darkness men affirmed Must weigh upon him ; visions haunted him, Hallucinations often troubled him ; And every night the menials avowed He talked with some one in the lonely room, Though never any made him a reply. Y>r, once a servant bolder than the rest Lingering nigh the chamber caught some words Like these 'If thou hadst lived, life of my life, ' Llown drifted as I am by passion fierce, • I'.-, veering speculation, all my days, 00 BEATRICE 'The evil bitter taint within my blood ' Of gloom and madness might have reached to thee, 'And those; hands, even these, have torn thy breast! ' Ah ! if the chill damp of the outer world ' With its dull soulless death of every day ' Had eaten corroding with its rust away ' The mirror- sheen, the substance of our hearts ! ' Have I not seen old people numb and cold — ' Who once were lovers — with but breath enough ' Left now to drivelling jeer at what they were, ' Beautiful living men and women ; now ' Dead-alive bodies ghastlier than the dead ! ' With all the immortal life in the young world ' Pulsing and throbbing, surging them about, ' Nigh deaf and blind, yet lifting palsied hands ' Quavering " great tide, come no farther in ! " ' Yet could I ever make thee happy, love ? ' I was too weird, too grave and self-absorbed, ' .My sunny child, for thee — 'twas well to go — ' For might I not have dazed thy very soul With my bewildering counsels, a blind guide, ' Leading thee blindly, leaning on me, child ? ' I brought a dark chill on thy sunny life, ' Who would have shed my heart's blood out for thee ! ' Fed on thy life I live, but thine went out ' From feeding mine — this all-accursed life — 'Ah! let me quench it and lie down to rest! . . . ' Beatrice ! your lips move ! speak to me ! ' BEATRICE 91 And as with horror paralysed he stood He fancied that a softer voice replied; Then all was silence — but the listener Shivering stole again to whence he came. But Clement made a yearly pilgrimage To yon dear shrine, his Compostella fair, That lowly villa, musing on her grave In sunshine and by moonlight wandering About the orange-groves and mountain-paths, Or sitting in the old room as of yore. 'Twas there he made the song concerning her That had for title ' Lost,' and thus it ran. LOST With evening hued like autumn leaves The porch is fair, still sleeps the air, She conies through yonder light and weaves Flowers as I loved them in her hair. This is her hour, from yonder groves She comes to me, u\>>>n my knee; You'll know her, for whene'er she moves, For joy she sings like bird or bee. The butterfly in glory lit With pulsing wings on flower that swings ight in b< r madow will aol flit, > the trouble thai Bhe brings. 92 BEATRICE The redbreast sidling shy to peel Wee crumbs thai till the window sill, Who timorous veers a tiny neck, From her pink palm sips tame and Still. I only watched in church with her Through ivy stream the dickering beam, Upon her sweet slim feet to stir And dally in a fond day-dream. Her singing never took by storm The listless ear, the stranger's ear, Yet hymns of seraph could not warm My heart like her frail accents near. I would to all fair sights that stir In earth and sky be blind for aye For one more far-off glimpse of her, Scarce lovely to the loveless eye. And when among the crowds I move Some air or dress, some tone or tress, That savours of my own lost love Will draw me doting through the press. To find a stranger and dispel, And make to fleet, the glamour sweet, Fond glamour known for dream too well, More dear than all the friends I meet. With whisper of her mellowing grain, With treble of brook and bird and tree, Earth joys for ever to sustain The bass eternal of the sea. BEATRICE Vo And years flushed o'er with flowers of bliss Dance every one from shade to sun, Fresh youths and maidens yearn to kiss, As we have done, little one ! I lipped the joy, now yield my place, For me no more kind years may pour, "Who only want one meeklit face, One face gone out for evermore ! But why, ah why ! when day burns low Doth that sweet hum still faintly come, As of sweet talk that used to flow Through her closed door to my lone room Poor fool ! 'tis but the mumbling wind That talks like her, nor means to jeer ; For subtler wind are love and mind, And she but wiud who nestled here ! o But when for six years lie bad dragged the chain Of life without her, revolution flashed Among a noble people who uprose To free themselves from tyranny or die. He joining with enthusiasm fought A- one wh ■ value upon life. After the battle on the gory clay They found him through the hear! shot lying dead A portrait on him of a lovely woman Wet from his heart's blood, with a tress of hair al on the side reverse; ! I 1 BEATRICE A shred of writing naming him by name They found beside, with earnest-breathing prayer That if 'twere possible he might be borne To Monaco and buried where he named. Twin crosses in white marble mark the spot, Small, graven, side by side, and two low mounds ; "While lullabies eternal from the sea Float dreamy o'er the eternal slumberers. Oft an old man brings wreaths of immortels For the two crosses tottering and weak. Some spiral grasses whisper, marking soft Their shadows on the marble and in flower Nestling into the graving of the names. But those two hearts, the turbulent and the meek, Worn out and weary slumber full of peace, And in their deaths they are divided not. 95 Upon her stone at dead of night Flashed the wild rain in lightnings white, She unaware of sound or sight. The shadowing minster clanged on high, Chariots of loud life hurried by, Disturbing ne'er the sleeper nigh. Her little girl had grief to smother E'er since the father took another In place of her own tender mother. By moonlight to the grave she crept, Tears on her mother's name she wept, . . . . . . Who the same sleep unheeding slept. 96 SONG 'LIKE HER, BUT NOT THE SAME' I seek her by the stream, that laves Yon crumbling convent wall, And in the silent place of graves That loved her soft footfall, Then in a dream through evening calm Again we wander by the palm. But lo ! this glooming crust unstirred Gives o'er the sombre glow Of caverned fire — my dream is blurred, I wake — the fire is low. . . . I hear alone the wind and rain To-night chill beat my windowpane. Yet she is nigh — behold, they say, Yon gracious queenly dame ! More cold this cold heart turns away Like her — but not the same ! I know I left her lying where Yon graves in sunlight sleep so fair! 07 KATHLEEX Two children in the olden time, Who in a summer evening gleam Up to the front coach-window climb To Avatch the team ; Four grey blood-horses in a steam That draw the children home from town Through orchards rosy with the beam Of day gone down. Dear is the fair familiar way, The merry children point elate To spots endeared of old in play — Wood, stile, or gate. 'Tom, you remember? there's the pool 'You threw the poor old spaniel in.' 'There, Kate, we found the red toi • By yon gold whin ! ' u KATUT.ri'N In far vein-purple tracts of sky A star thrills; blackbird, nightingale, Pulse ecstacies from maybloom nigh And sweetly fail. And then the sleek-haired maiden sings, Both children kneeling toward the glow "While the fond boy about her clings, Soft sings and low A ditty that he loves to hear, Of gentle girl who died, ' Kathleen ; ' Yet gathers in his eyes the tear — Her name ' Kathleen.' . . . The years flow by; some mourners move Through drifting leaves of autumn slow; A youth the sister of his love Follows in woe. And as they leave her in the rain, A milkwhite doe she often fed Through the dim forest limps in pain To lean its head Upon the harsh grave-wall and die. More sweet to it than dells of green, Where mate and fawn sun -dappled he, Thy grave, Kathleen ! 99 JUXE ROSES No lower, no lower, along the lane ! For the place it was here I know, Where over the far meadow's bloomy wane Ton rose waves to and fro, I remember the curve of the flexile spray And the way these roses grow. How they float on the maze of the verdure lush, And ruffle to feel the breeze, Where they he full-blown with a delicate flush ! Do you love them most, or these Opening coy with a crimson blush, Hiding golden hearts for the bees ? Do you mind how you bade me cull you a rose r But the spray swam over my head With a stress of air, 'one would say that it knows, ' As you hreathed the word it fled ; With the Bister blooms it would fain repose ' Till the gentle Leavi shed ! ' I! 'J JUNE KOSES 'Little skilled in reading the heart of a flower,' Your answering tones I heard ; ' See close to your hand the pale rose cower ' Lest you take her at her word ! ' 13ut there fell the first drop of a thunder shower, And the rose it was left and blurred. Is it easier now to remember the spot Where we paused in the sweet green lane Than to find the warm feeling we soon forgot, Left there like the flower to wane ? She said ' there are hearts that blossom not ' Like the roses of June again ! ' 101 'AND SHE WAS A WIDOW Yea, thou hast left us, love, left us aloue, Coldly the rain, love, sobs on thy stone, Still throng the world's pulse full life and sound, Thine only solitude, stillness profound! In a fathomless want the world labouring rolls. Importunate hands ever reach to their goals, The fruits we long wild for, the fruits we attain, Feed our longing with ashes, and still we are fain. River of life ever ample unfolding ! Ships we beheld from their anchorage slide All the burning midwater yet royally holding, Dost thou lose, love, thy joy in their pomp and their pride ? tt, in sooth, for the warm nook is vacant anigh Warm nook inthesweet grass from whence we bet bely movements of nations, yet while they [ by mo Prom wont oft I turn to thy corner of eld. • A.M. SHE WAS A WII'uU Yet ne'er bj bhe veiled Lamp in day's long declining As 1 read from the day-leaf thy silver- white hair Will bend low to hear me more, lowly inclining, Slumber surprising thee hearkening there ! To bow many a chance, like a blossom or bent Along the life-lapse idle eddying by, Stole a sweet fleeting beam from our loving look lent ; But now in one gloom let them fleet, let them die ! Yet the world never more with its malice may sunder, Nor ever more sever chill mists from within, Not a mortal my heart's mellow memory plunder One has folded our love from the tarnish of sin ! But the earliest cuckoo calls from the bough, There are liltings of young love, nests in the tree, We too have dreamed a sweet dream, I and thou — And we wait for a sweeter awaking to be ! 103 A WALK IN SPRING i Do you remember our walk that day To the church upon the steep With grass about the wall so gray "Where the weary slumber deep ? Like a heavenly hand the sunshine lay To bless them in their sleep. ir "We passed by the wicket-gate you know To the tender-budding wood, Dew lingering in the blooms below, Where intermittent flowed Warm sprinkled sunlight to and fro With the leaflets' frolic mood. in By the broken gate that idly swung Near umber tilth ajar Our eyes to faint horizons clung, Bloomed as young wheat-sheaths are. You deemed it must be sea that hung nt, with yon skies afar. 1 I A WALK IN SPUING IV Lo ! red thorns on the briar fair, And buds uncurling green, Birds-notes Hash lavish everywhere, Spill water brimmed, or lean Long plainings on the summer-air That seem to sleek the sheen. v A foal lithe frisking round his dam In cowslipped meadow plays ; Pushing, a weak-limbed nestling lamb Beneath his parent sways ; With cool slant shade each blade's green flame A sister blade allays. VI When we had chosen a primrosed nook, Some rustle made you start, You feared a snake and you bade me look, But I stilled your little heart; Last year's sere fern a blackbird shook, Or a weasel stole athwart. vn We gazed beyond the meadows low And apple-blossomed farm, To nebulous woodlands where the glow, Leaning so close and warm, Woos their shy secrets' yielding flow With zephyr's whispered charm. A WALK IN SPRING 10- VIII Shy secret of the bud and leaf, Shy secret of the bloom, And such as now in Springtime flood Sweet nests in emerald 2,-loom Of boscage where some finch may brood, And a stray beam only come. is But summer, I deem, had sunk that day Not into flowers alone ; She woo'd shy secrets as they lay In two young hearts unblown ; Love breathed upon them in their May, Till each in each had grown. x And I watch your pulses' gentle heaves Flutter your skin of silk, Till the shadow of some fluttering leaves Plays on your wrist of milk, And even to your white bosom cleaves Soft amorous lights to bilk. XI About you stealing sweetly coy To yield you all to me — Birds flowers weaving as they t Leu ven round me and thee — with our young joy world we seem to be ! 10G BLIND AND DEAF Part I A GIRL lies quiet in a humble room The fresh spring dawn doth tranquilly illume, Pale but for flush of fever on her face, Yet calm she sleeps now in that quiet place ; Nor though the little casement stand ajar Can the sunlight her first sweet slumber mar, So well her rose and honeysuckle try To soften the day for her with greenery : Her dear rose-linnet in his osier cage With blushing breast the season doth presage : But poorly seems that cottage room adorned — Rude pictures such as wealthier folks had scorned And little figures rude of earthenware Of boys and girls, beasts blue and white, are there Upon the chimney- shelf : the bed is mean With a patched coverlid of varied sheen. A mother works and watches by her side, 'Tis now the crisis of the turning tide : Say, shall it whelm the silent sufferer Or at her very lips ebb down from her ? Profound that slumber, but she wakes at last ; BLIND AND DEAF 107 She does not move, the lurid visions past ; For now she tastes the bliss of painlessness, Too weak to stir or think, yet feels no less ' Sweet life is mine, not death ; now I shall live.' And soon creep thoughts like creatures that revive From winter's frost — ' I thank my Father, God, ' Fur I was young to lie beneath the sod ; ' I would not leave dear Mother and the weans — ' Do not sweet scents come through my leafy screens ? • Is not the young year glad with budding greens ?' Xow would she turn and look if one be near Her heart yearns after, but she scarce may stir : Yet the quick ear that listens by the child Has caught the rustle, and with bounding wild mother's heart leaps up : she leans above, !. in her eyes to light her weary dove Home from the waste whose bound no wanderer kn<< Finorer on mouth, with motion to repose — Yet the maid pays no heed as if distraught, thus meanders her untrammelled thought : ' I do not hear the children on the stairs 1 Wi ncd voices as they play at bears; • Vt i little Tom and May disturbed me not, •They knew that I was ill — maybe remote ' From now the time when I was taken first. 'Aim! ;.ii — 'tis strange — I do not hear as erst 'Tin- measured clicking of the old Dutch clock 'Upon whose foce bhe ship was wont t.> ruck; 108 BLIND ANH |,r\|- ' Tis very dark; hardly I fathom il ; 'Am I alone? or would poor Mother sit ' Without a fire or candle ? ' Then she grows Bewildered rather, till the fond face glows Near and more near, until it feels her brow; This makes her gentle spirit overflow With limpid joy; returning kisses faint — ' You have been ever by me, Mother, saint ! ' She murmurs. ' Once more in the dear sunshine ' With you I shall go wandering, mother mine ! ' But light a candle, darling, it is dark ! ' On moonless nights there always came some spark 1 Of starlight through the honeysuckle's trail ; ' You had a fire when I began to fail, ' When I remember last.' ' Hush ! dearest child ' You must not talk now,' prays the mother mild ; ' But my God ! ' she utters in her heart, ' Now the spring sun she longs for doth impart ' His glory to us all — does she awake ' Ne'er to behold him more ? Thou wilt forsake 'Not her, O Father, whom Thou dost awake ' To life within my arms ! ' 'A light, I pray ! ' The child cries anxious, now athirst for day. Then falls a large hot tear upon the cheek Of her forlorn, a tear the mother weak May not restrain : but all remaining still, No light, no answer, dire forebodings lill Her fainting heart with sudden hands and chill: ' Speak, my own Mother, answer me,' she pressed; BLfXD AXD DEAF 109 So now the mother knows that she had guessed The bitter truth, the whole ; she stoops and winds Her arms about the child, who troubled finds The cheek she best loves wet against her own. She weeps too, but the little heart has flown Where it was always wont distressed to fly. Far as it seems unto the world, yet nigh To a child's heart, that inner sanctuary — • And would I face even death, how willingly ! ' She whispered, ' Father, so to be with Thee ! 'And shall I not be with Thee even now ? ' Then quietly with pale unruffled brow She turns upon the pillow, and she speaks With a sweet patience, only with the breaks Of now and then a sob ' My mother press ' Me to your side if truly I shall guess : 'Ani I not deaf?' Into her breast she draws. Then the child falters, after but a pause, 'And, Mother, press me if I should be blind!' As of love's agony she feels the bind Of those fond arms anew — and while she drifts Par from the old blest earth, whose glory shifts From eye to ear, from raptured ear to eye, That she has loved with what intensity! She knows that two new fibres strong as death Prom ) v her spirit to her mother's wreathe, And while in vain her eyeball seeks the ray Deep in her heart dawns the Eternal Da\ ' []0 BLIND iM' Part II Slow mantled Spring till Summer overflowed Life's goblet, ebbed to Winter; when it glowed Afresh, at casement meek behold her sit Where butterfly-like breezes wanton flit; Her all-unspotted careful-ordered dress Denotes of tending eyes the watchfulness ; A book of raised type is on her knee, But one arm on the window leaneth sbe, Her head upon her hand with face full- turned Upon the Spring, as if her spirit yearned To that — for grand about her all the tide Of light that lives in Heaven deep and wide Rolls in, and bears a myriad glorious things, And all its wealth upon the maiden flings. For lo! tbe Spring hath burst her chrysalis, Life in her wings and rapture in her kiss: And she bath flushed through all the dreary woods To touch and Light them to a flame of buds ; Her glearuy hand so brimmed with violets, Through her strained iine-er here and there she lets Them fall to grass, where amethyst they lie BLIND AND DEAF 111 And watch her, each a sylvan, spirit's ere : Intense reflections of her rainbow fans Start living bluebells when the light engrains, And primroses, and stars of golden glow Called celandine — the year hath ripened now ! Her little cottage on the border stands Of a great wood and high — with pasture lands Unrolled beneath, whereto a lawny slope ' Inclines with many a softly rounded group Of brake gorse-goldened or foam-sprayed with may : Both through the fronting wood, and far away, Her window looks ; to lustrous fields of grass Hedge-girt, elm-dotted that the kine may pass The midday heats there chewing mild the cud, With limp ear flapping tickling flics that stud ; To blossomed orchards, fallows loamy brown, Wheatfields and clover lessening to the town, The town smoke-nested with its abbey grey, On to horizons azure fused with day. Bronze chestnut-buds, wrapped gummy as they grow, Swelled fluffy, spilling with an overflow All unaware of flimsy tissue green, Little leaves crumpled, dress for fairy queen; all the trees a rarest misl u". rcrept Of verdure, and condensing daily swept I L2 BLIND AND D] Throughout the woodland; tints impleaching wed, Young oak-leaves chrysoberyl tinct with red, (Hussy with nils that wait upon their birth; While yon fresh beech-leaves moving as in mirth Serm lithe to lie upon the delicate air A.s though too gross to let them sink it were, Fringed with a down as silky as may mist, When edgeways-lit, a lip thai you have kissed: Green Hakes of clustered vivid light they fell I deem upon the boughs, and oh ! how well They're quenched with mutual shadows and relumed Over and over ; note how gently gloomed And chequer-lit their pale smooth-rinded bole, Even as the lichened bark where ivy stole. Fresh scented fern at tips brown-scaled and twirled, Fronds folded as an infant's toes are curled, Grows free amid the campion crimson-lake And where stellaria graceful- leaved doth shake, While fleshy mushrooms rayed beneath with fawn, Growth of a night, dot thick the dewy lawn. Dreamy the down of sallow-catkin swims In the mild sunlight ; shall we note the whims Of yon wee caterpillar hued like jade On his silk subtle jewel-glimmered thread ? But now deep hides in many a hawthorn bush A nest of pale eggs tiny with a blush And mottle of wine; from lichens woven and moss. BLIXD AND DEAF 113 Horsehair and bents and feathers, sheltering close A mother chaffinch whose gay mate sits nigh And chirps to her — yon linnet dipping by Sings as he flies, and perching on the ash A runnel long of melody doth flash From him and wander through the woodland far, Whose notes impetuous ecstatic war "Which shall be first ; they hustle and they throng As all the teeming Spring were in the song ; That little elf will utter forth the Avhole ; Well may he quiver, and beyond control The rapture whirl him from the leafy shade With shimmering wings adown the sunlit glade ! But he is not alone — hark ! trickling notes From the hid blackcap, tenderly there flouts Sweet cooing of the cuckoo and the dove, Clear pipes the blackbird, and a thrush's love Flutes softer — hark ! the lark is in the blue Whose music-sea the sunlight eddies through; With these the whitethroat, many a bird, combines, As if to shoot and cross a myriad lines Of melody entangling all the soul, And in a web of breathless bliss to roll. In a warm haze the brakes are rounded soft; A grey-green exhalation here aloft They seem, with thinner edges luminous Even us a cloud's: from their dusk hearts of rose i Ill- BLIND AM> DEAF Ami blackberry (lie cinnamon nightingales Skim into sunlight gurgling amorous iales, Or pensive call to her who darkling glows Over their own live secret — where — he knows! All this and more — by so much as beside The year teems with of flowers elfin-eyed, And mosses fairy-branched of amber stems All capped with (airy urns concealing gems Of seed, a world to insects metal-sheened, Lambs by their mothers frisking newly-yeaned— All this and more, commingled in the tide Ever calm undulating far and wide Of air and light in bounteousness sublime And all exhaustless, as in former time, Floats now about this humble cottage maid. Rich should she be, though in mean weeds arrayed : Rich hath she been in Hinging wide her soul To every humblest claimant of the whole : And rich she is, although that sea in sooth Of glory vainly sweeps and summons both The closed and silent portal of her eye And of her car, as where deserted lie Sea-lapped palace-walls blithe once with life ; But as in vain the ripple-lisp or strife Of clamorous white surge would waken now The sullen rock, so vainly woos the sun And all Spring- voices calling to the stone BLIN'D AXD DEAF 1 I •". Of her dead sense whom God makes deaf and blind ! Yet is He still the Father — and refined Intensely grow the senses that are left, Nor is the girl of touch and smell bereft ; So as she sits and leans out to the Spring, She may not rush with bird-like wantoning Into the woods as erst the child would do ; Yet still remain of channels one or two Through which the living glory may invade : Does there not wander in from garden and glade A wash of fragrance, honeysuckle scent, Acacia or seringa myriad-blent, Now this now that, and can she not feel cool The downy breeze upon her forehead full ? Then these with magic wand shall summon all Yea all the summer in her spirit's hall; Kxquisite vision something shadowy Such as to Eden dreaming bards supply, Such as to Milton blind dwelt ever nigh. Imagination that forbids the sense Explore some sweet lane's winding, tangle dense. Because she holds her fantasy more fair Or dear than earth, Imagination rare Is opening this blind girl's inner eye To that near world whose fadeless beauties lie Suhstance of ours that only bloom to die ! And once her fingers touched Hie raised type l 2 1 16 BLIND AM' DEAF Upon her knee, when lo! her mother's lip Pressed to her forehead — then a radiant smile Dawned on thai wan blank face, as otherwhile I saw a grey blank cock illumine dim Through watery skies — though vain the clamorous chime ( )f surges and the flash of sea-birds, mark ! Heaven streams -with pearl, deep smiles the moun- tain dark ! She speaks, 'O mother, wonderful to read 'That He -who calls Himself my friend indeed ' Calls me His friend. — Can then the Master need ' Me ae His friend? on this my spirit feed!' 117 SUMMER CLOUDS AND A SWAN Now in late Slimmer massy foliage Shows dark and heavv, and the beechmast brov. Yon lofty beeches of the smooth grey bole, That stand upon a mossy turf which seems To undulate as if with languid airs Breathing beneath the glowing tapestry Of moss now vivid now a sombre green. The bank insensibly to water slopes, A narrow tract of water with the banks In easy hail of one another : I stand Facing the grove beyond the narrow water Nestled in lime-leavos murmurous with bees : The water from my vantage-ground appears A •_ r i | aming mirror for the banks and sky. Ah ! what a sky ! in yonder hazy blue Floats a white cloudlet shading into grey, A drift of white soft-outlined bright and pure, Letting tin- eye sink in luxuriously, Dusking t<> fringe of delicate slate-grey Most. lik<- a wing of bine-backed herring-gull Dishevelled ruffled all the downy rim, I 1 3 SUMMER CLOUDS AND A SWAN Silverly saturate and soaked with light, Tranquilly floating in a Mac profound. Shored is yon skiey wash of paly blue Willi fainter snow of vapours hazed from heat, Subsiding dim with graduation fine In thai sky-water, as a mellow stroke Prom Mime great bell to silence ebbs away, Taints off, dissolves, and fails insensibly — Their billowy bulky mass of mountain soiled As with a tinge of copper and of brass ; Their mounded subsidences here and there Worn smooth with long abrasion of rich light In streaming over, beams dissolved imbibed In part while flowing, but in part flung free, Swimming in shafts of pearl incumbent long Upon the opalescent shadowy air, Haunt of still angels floating restfully Bound earthward upon ministries of love. See yonder, mottled all the space with fleece Or curdling milk or feather balls most fair, Between them gulfs and channels of dim blue Like sunny Alpine ice thin-oversnowed. ie lawny mists move flimsy, letting filter Blue heaven through them, even as shredding foam Wears airy grey bewraying a blue billow : These radiate to nigh impalpable Fan-rays long film-blown, fingered luminous SUMMER CLOUDS AND A SWAN 119 Of amorous air soft frolicsome and -warm. Lo ! there hath grown a fibrous length of mist, A delicate stalk faint-fuming into wealth Of leafage, blossoming indefinite ; A spine aerial radiating fine; Lucent plant-animal that loves the sea, Expatiating still luxuriously In the blue bath with feelers all abroad, Glad unsuspicious free unreticent — Longreaching veinings in the gauzelike haze Tenderly marbliug the CEerulean, Now dense now rare like lawn we steep in water. How prodigal of lovely wayward change Is cloudland subtle, silent, unaware, Ravelling, unravelling tissues gossamer, Not to be prisoned in colour or in word, Pageant regarding not if any see ! Light of a stilly summer afternoon Drowsy, voluptuous and sumptuous, Kich, honey-heavy, sheeny, breathing balm ! Von beech-grove rises dark against the light, And o'er the beech-grove higher up the light Climbs a tall hoary lanthom-tower and spire; The light all tender with a pearly haze L20 SUMMER CLOUDS AND A SWAN Iliu'd like iliin lins and Banking of a fish Fresh-netted live and shining with the wet — While all tlic scene repealed lies below, The tract of blue, the clondwing floating there, The faint snow shores, the I'm like opal light, And in it the beech-groves and loftier tower, With through its belfry windows mullioned The warm light glowing as in human eyes. Now in the lower reflected gulf of blue A swan sails tranquil with a stately neck A rehed long, with orange beak, and lifted wing Sail-like on either side, how soft and pure! Have they not fallen these wings from yonder blue, Out of the soft Avhite cloud there, so akin They seem to it ? And the tenderness Of the blue shadow, scarcely shadow or blue, Haunting yon dells of clown behind the wing ! Surely the white cloud when it fell from heaven Fell with the heavenly motion lingering in it, For do but note how tranquil and how still The cloud sails yonder and the swan sails here ! Yet lo ! a sudden impulse of the bosom Thrills all the placid water feeling it To dimpling smiles that waft luxurious light Into the pendulous faces of sweet flowers, Lush grasses, harebell, eyebright, sorrel leaves That fringe the II I whose heart enshrines them all. SUMMER CLOUDS AND A SWAN 121 While liis dim double the swan floats upon Flickers beneath him with the twin-born ripple From his breast sloping either side away, Melts like snow dropped in water, yet remains. He ruffles yielding wavering images Of church and tree, and of the sky above, But all the fragments gather as he goes. Thus if a dream, a passing fancy, glide And mar thine image for a moment, Love, "Within my heart, it glides and passes by ; But thou art, Love, mine own abiding sky, More undisturbed not faithfuller than I. 192 AUTUMN IN IRELAND Calm falls the evening: lo ! yon delicate ash, Whose smooth grey bole dark mossy tufts emboss, Gloats with full foliage in the mellow light, Each slim leaf dainty dabbling in the glow And dallying with shadow subtly fine ; While underneath, thin shadow of the tree Branches upon a slope of lawn greengold Soft vague as veins meander, and allows A flow of gleam with gracious whim to stray About it gentle, yielding light-bubble. The foliage is paling yellowing And sheds to-day an amber scattering Upon the grass as if reflected there. Below the lawn a billowy sweep of wood Pours to a glen and fills it fair and far With undulating topaz, chrysolite, "Whose fervour quickens into ember-fire Anon or silent burn of tarnished gold, Into the hue wherewith the robin's breast AUTUMN IN IRELAND 123 Glows now in autumn perched in yonder ash And ruffling his full throat with melody. Yon billowy leafage-river seems to pour And gather from afar insensibly, Where those vast mountains shadowy upheave Misted, uncertain, bathed in molten pearl, Robed in mild light of sweep magnificent With luminous folds of blue gloom interchanged, Yet through the heavenly vesture half-betrayed Their native tones of sombre olive-green, Rustbrown, or tint of the yew's inner rind. Behold yon kingly form with storm-beaten Yet dauntless everlasting rugged face Over huge shoulder of his brother there ! The far-off mountain purples now with eve, Yields, melts his proud and stern solidity To vaporous amethyst that seems to poise, And brood on mingling with unbodied light. Anon he looks a vast anemone Translucent steeped in a clear sea of air, An air how supple soft and fathomless Enshrining all, here molten chrysolite, The inner hue of bursting chestnut sheaths What time the chestnut drops from leaf to leaf, There heaven for souls of vanished violets; Wherein a orescent moon swims tilted high On end shell-frail, a shallop half submerged. L2 I AUTUMN IN' [RELAND Calm falls the evening, tender every tunc The mild air pillows; only now and then Some flitting bird with irrepressible Ami innocent bliss brims over in the leaves, Sons' fragile fitful as the fitful gleam Of silken rainbow gossamer at hand A freckled spider Bwings from leaf to leaf. Sueli voices, ami the hushed-with-distancc call Of yonder torrent in the wooded glen, These only haunt the tranquil-hearted air, 1 Spirits benign congenial unto it. While I upon the moss extended lie, A fairy fir-forest of mazy moss, Noting some metal-sharded insect thrid Their labyrinths, and over the frail growth Of shamrock tiny, or fungus coral-red. I know ye mountains ! tell what hollow lone Or stern rocksteep of yours defies me long ! I love ye all, love communing Avith all, Courting fair deadly face of danger, queen Among ye — timorous tepid-souled men Know not the fierce delight of meeting her "With Munching cheek and loudly thumping heart, Yet with teeth set, and will unconquerable — Beautiful Bpirit, playmate of the storm! Hard by the eagle's eyrie, when the eagle Sweeps brooding o'er it dauntless and unmoved AUTUMN IN IRELAND 1'2"< For all the rush of hurricane and scud Of torn grey cloudrack, poised on wing sublime ; "What time blind rain leaves slippery the stalks Of heather and bilberry in crevices Of giddy granite precipice, and scarce For drift in «■ mist I see the rowan beads Or holly berries, clutching at their stems. And ah ! what glories, secret treasuries Of beauty and delight we come upon, Fresh, unfamiliar, where the gaze profane Of vulgar and unsympatkising eyes Hath never fallen, blighting, tarnishing; ithed upon, unfingered as a flower Fresh budded from its sheath, impearled with morn ! How light, how buoyant, all your breezes blow V mountains ; how we bound upon your heath ! For illness, with the fretting cares of life, Unhealthful toil with books, and weary thought Heaving through waste and wandering seas of doubt, Hungering with unfathomable want; Yea even the burden of some deadlier grief; All these like fevered dreams we fling from us, Sipping tin sparkle of your liberal air! And now thongh, wounded climbing in your era. Awhile 1 may not move, my spirit roves still, while I serene as you Lie lapped like you in tranquil-waning liyiit ! L2G AUTUMN IN rRELAND Ami tlioti fierce fcorrenl Ln the wooded glen ! How often have I watched fchee from a rock Hard by yon thunder-waterfall of thine, Thy crush of waters tawny as the mane Of some huge lion crashing like a fate With raucous roar on a dissolving doe, And foam resurgenl vanishing like cloud 'Mid swirl of bright delirious air-bubbles In splintering agate of the gulf profound, While fragile froth white, lacelike, delicate* Prills tremulous the waterworn grey stone, Elver blown out, and ever anon relit — Till in the spume some shadow seems to flit ; Nay ! solid thing of life, that unaware Leaps to my startled vision, leaps in air, Along the flashing cataract, a fish, A salmon opal -flanked and mottled fine His hack with shifting purple, to subside In the seethe baffled yet abide his time. Ah ! splendid torrent, hast thou ne'er a soul, Art thou no god as men were wont believe ? If not a god, yet verily and full Pulses in fch.ee the universal God! Doth not thy full triumphant rush of life Inevitably leap up into me, Aching and thrilling inarticulate Till it can break in me to consciousness, autumn in Ireland 127 To its own worship, love, and sympathy ? In solitude I blend my voice with thine, Shouting for brothei'hood and fellowship ! Insanely lust headlong to flash with thee, Or long to plunge, lover ! in thy pools Shadowy, fathomless, contemplative, Dyed of the peat deep coffee ; fury- spume Indolent starring, clinging at the rock, Gray crag empurpled, hollowed-under, cloven With such long violent importunity. Lo ! where the listless foam-fleck on the main 'Mid-current dallies, seeming motionless; Visibly now astir smooth slides along Von oily waterlapsc ; glides giddily Aim >n to where, volumed like solid glass, The flood slips eager into the abyss, Fired with a parting sunkiss, passionate — To wander far, now strenuous now calm, Dreamy ami listless under all the dense Lmpleaohed greenery of mossy wood, Twirling Bere leaves, umbrageous and cool, .y smoke-cairngorm, now shallower jasper clear, Smiling when Day puts by the leaves to look And variegate with limpid tortoiscshell. L28 THE (i KAN DM OTHER'S STORY Tins af'u i-noon I promised I would hi That story from the poor old lady near ; So, coming to the cottage there aloft That creepered stands within its little croft A stone's throw from the road, roofed in with 1 hatch I neared the garden-wicket, clicked the latch, Passed through sweet-william flowers and holly- hocks, Straw-plaited hives with bees in humming flocks ; Knocked and within found waiting me to greet A slight grey woman finely-featured, sweet, Yet clear and firm of aspect, simple, neat ; About her shoulders over the serge gown, Though it was warm, a worsted cape was thrown — ' You must forgive me if I weary you, For I am getting very old, you know ; 1 shall be seventy come Martinmas — Swift flics the current of our years that pass ! THE GRANDMOTHER'S STORY 129 Well I remember, 'twas a happy day ; We liad persuaded him the holiday At home to spend, and take the weans to play With Mary and myself among the fern In Epping Forest, when the blazing burn (The summer you may mind was hot and dry) Should cool assuaged from evening drawing nigh. And John he drove our grey nag in the cart ; Ah ! how they teased, the little ones, to start ! You know the beautiful tall beechen trees Nigh to the old toll-gate that was — a breeze Blew cool among them, and the lights and shades Seemed merry as the children in the glades. Some cows were standing paunch-deep in the pool, A rough dull-coated clumsy cart-horse, cool Bathing his thick fore-fetlocks only, let, After a draught, the water from his wet Lipa cither side pour streaming sleepily. The children watched him, and the goslings nigh, A second brood downed yellow, with some geese, And nibbling sheep shorn of their woolly fleece. John never seemed, I thought, more chocrfullike And kindly — it was then we saw the shrike (We call it butcher-bird), and then he followed With Ned the eldest, where an elm is hollowed. The mill-like tapping of a woodpecker ' At this I questioned, interrupting her, Doubting how tar the dear old dame would err: L30 Tin-: grandmother's stori 'So it was then .Mary began to ail?' • Na\ ■" she replied, 'mayhap a little pale Sileni and weary she had seemed at fir.n, 1 >nt into spirits rapturous she burst When playing with the children in the wood: To see their romps! I Pelt it did me good. 1 recoiled the little sister saying (At hide-and-seek the younger two were playing) ' ' Now, Tom, I'm going to hide by yonder tree Among the fern, and yon must look for me When you shall hear me calling out cuckoo! " And then away the little toddler flew To bury her wee face where covert grew Of marestail and of fern, a forest small Within the forest, taller than them all; But bless you ! she was three year old and she er surmised that anyone could see If but her eyes were shut, and so she stole Ere calling but halfway within a hole Between some fronds that bordered open grass, And all might see the blue frock of the lass, Each bare leg tiny and her little shoon.' Tin's I foresaw would not be ended soon, So gently coaxing her toward the goal I spoke again — ' Well, I had gone to stroll Nut, far,' the grandmother resuming spoke, ' When I saw Mary coming near the oak Where I was resting, holding baby fast THE GRANDMOTHER'S STORT 131 Husking and singing to it as she passed, Yet strangely breaking off into a prayer Wild incoherent, as of strong despair, Between tke snatches of ker lullaby : Conceive tke skock it gave me ; plainly I Heard what ske muttered, " Jokn is gone with her ! Little ke cares about tke woodpecker." ' I knew tke kusband all too often failed In duty to my Mary, since ske ailed Now many a day from karskness of tke man; Albeit in sootk tke malady foreran In buried members of our family (My fear foreboded her not wholly free, Even from a girl) ; ske wept unceasingly Tkese later days indeed ; nor most I tkink From kis brutality to ker in drink, But for kis wanton doings witk tke otker : Gentle and true, poor thing, she could not smother Hatred of that lewd woman handsome base, Who daily more encroached upon her place In her own house as in his fickle keart. And yet wkat smote ker with tke deadly smart Was this one day that made so fair a start Playing her false, betraying her to pain, She weUnigh foolish counted on the wane, t5ee;uise lie liad been kinder for awhile; The woman for a month gone many a mile : K 2 132 THE GRANDMCM IIKR'S STORY And he was gentler to the children small A.S to herself — That evening most of all Kind he appeared and cheery- happiness Of dim-remembered years came nigh to bless, When they twain and tlie ebild beneath the sod, Their pretty lirst-born, seemed alone "with God, Happy as those in heaven. — Sudden fell On her fresh-budding hope the blast from hell, Loathsome, abhorred, familiar too well. The hated gleam she saw among the fern Of her red drapery; which made her turn White cold, atremble, as the children told, Rising from playing with them in the gold Of silverweed and birdsfoot, fixing look Intently staring on the path he took Among thick hazels and low-blooming bi'amble : But Tom, poor innocent, moved on a ramble That very way, spying a foxglove yonder, (Such a tall spire of spotted bells, a wonder !) Winn swift and shrill she screamed that he should stay : " Stay here ! you dare not ! will you ne'er obey ? Not nigh that woman " — then she caught the child, The little baby, with a gesture wild, Si raining it to her, hurrying to me, Mattering singing incoherently.' She paused as weary, shedding even tears, THE GRANDMOTHER'S STORY 13.3 Though all was over many many years ; So I besought her not to tell me more Nor idly stir the drowsy griefs of yore. ' I like to tell you, sad indeed yet sweet, Going all over, but 'tis hardly meet Much longer to detain you, and indeed For what remains there is but little need. Terrible journey home ! sad interval Till I all faint, fearing for what might fall On those wee children with the mother dazed, (Frightful to see her fondling baby crazed !) On thorns both day and night, in anguish went With my poor Mary where she must be sent, The Doctor said ; where skilful dealing would Be likeliest, he thought, to work for good, If aught could cure, by severing her ways From all that mixed slow poison with her days. • Well very soon, as I expected, he Brought home the woman, telling me that she Would cherish well the babes unmothered all, Since me myself my proper cares recall Home to the farm — those days you know I kepi House for my son unwed, yet often stcpt to Mary's; it was very near; And fco my hearl her babes were very dear. 'But need there was for me tn Chelmsford I L34 the grandmother's story Soon aft it lav from tlicm to bide; and flown Were nigh lour months before 1 could again Behold my children, howsoever lain. And then indeed it made my heart to ache Seeing my babes — you know I could not take Them home, 'twas all impossible, but oh ! They had not got their mother, don't you know. A mother's love for her own little child, There's nought so strong, so holy, undefiled ! Rosy and happy they would always look ; They were her first thought, and I seldom took A walk their way, but I was sure to find Her at wee shirt or frock, or romping kind Tireless with one or all ; save when she plied Her other household tasks — (for she but lied, The other woman, when she spread abroad Her duties to her husband were ignored By Mary, though she made him think the same)- But as to them, the children, when I came I found them all uncared-for, pining, pale ; I was quite sure their very food must fail, Unwashed, unkempt, ragged and slatternly, Poor darlings cherished late so tenderly ! And with her always bitter, sharp and cross, They lost their childish spirits; what a loss For little children ! Oft I found them crying: One cowed, sly, joyless ; peevish or defying Another grew, and far more quarrelsome — THE GKAXDil OTHER'S STORY 135 Starved of fair equal dealing, all that home With loving watchful service can provide, Starved in their poor hearts, and as ill-supplied Small growing bodies with the needful food — I used to think that no one ever could [Maltreat, or even neglect, a little child, Enslaving us with sheerest weakness mild, Conquering with designless impotence, Pleading with all resistless eloquence Of humble sweet uplooking eyes and sense Of utter helplessness, implicit trust In you for all — could any woman thrust An innocent away, who made appeal With pleading shiftless geste, if she could feel? Had she a heart deep in it must he steal, She not unmindful that herself once throve Frail pensioner upon a mother's love ! Seeing the little girl alas ! I thought, How but two years ago I saved and bought Some wooden animals and other toys For her, and how quite weary with her joys One day I found her at my Mary's — there Was little Nelly in the cushion-chair In Mary's arms, who dared nor breathe nor stir, Though cramped and numb for fear of waking her Unaware dozing off to quiet sleep, Her dimpled, waxen little fingers keep A small white wooden cock, her favourite toy, loG THE GRANDMOTHER'S STORY Rosily loosely lurked upon the joy — Open moist coral month, and flushing cheek ! Where were they now? timid and wan and weak I found her — but to make my story short, Trustworthy news one day to mc was brought That John was gone, had left both house and home, And none knew where ; but over the sea-foam Somewhere abroad, mayhap Australia, The folk surmised: "His little children are Left to thai woman," thus the neighbour said " She will not keep them now the father's fled, But they must go into the workhouse nigh ; You cannot take them" — how in sooth could I? (It seems that John and she had quarrelled sore, Yet from his winnings she secured a store) So by the help of our good clergyman I carried out reluctantly the plan — I think it was a hard and cheerless life : One soon gave over the unequal strife ; Harshness, neglect, poor food, too strong for her, Poor little Nelly died — so happier! The baby, that, you know, had died before. But for the others, Tom and Ned, they bore Up against all"; and when I found the leisure — Hoping to give my poor lost child a pleasure. And because Doctor Thomson said it might Possibly set her wildered reason right To see the children — on a holiday THE GRANDMOTHER'S STOUT 137 I took them to their mother, far away. ' Ah ! what a change — her scanty hair was grey, Late raven-black ; her face was gaunt and drawn, Once blithe and fresh and rosy as the dawn. She knew us, yes she knew us, them and me ; Yet not as figures from the past, you see, Blent with old scenes, at most but vaguely linked ; Rather with that fire-atmosphere all tinct She breathed, blent with her tortured wildered being — Hell, with but Death to slide the bolt for fleeing ! She scared the little ones, holding them close Embraced for lono- : and once indeed there rose Some of the Past faint blurred in front of her — " Nelly and baby, you must bring them here : Well are they ? — John would have come earlier To see me in my misery, but he Must be long dead — I mind their telling me!" . . . ' Well, have I more to tell? The boys are here. If Ned could get some situation near — II' s old enough — you hear them shouting now. They and my son's three slung from bough to bough There in the apple orchard late a swing — They let me have the boys out for a fling Of pleasure now and then — they're very well — Tiny like the dipping; why, I cannot tell; L3b THE GRANDM01 EER'S STORY It turns me giddy looking — well, the young I know! and there's the terrier barking strong; When Neddy runs to push, he always will; Poor dog, some day he's sure to come to ill! I think that you can see them if you look; The casemenl is ajar-, 'tis nigh the hrook And gillyflowers — my apples will he rare I fear this year, they do not promise fair. Tis nearly limethe children came to tea, And 1 must make it: where's the gooseberry I promised little Mary? Must you go ? You will bi' always welcome, Sir, you know!' A WALK IN SPRING 139 ANOTHER VERSION ' Yet in his prime, of promise very full, ' Truly a grievous fate ! ■ Many sweet years along life's way to cull ' Young wedded folk may wait ; ' They lived in one another 'tis averred ' — Pity! yet I know more than they have heard. He and the lady strolled into the wood Where rose and bramble marry, Nigh buried in the full fern as they stood, While nightingales yet tarry, A film of glinting silver on the deep Green fronds that under in mild lire steep. What silent sunlight-gushes in the grass, Rich-breathing oily fern, And sapful herbage flowering as they pass, 1 Inw the Long-purpL s burn ! Languid the air with foamy elder-bloom, Blue flies in shining i r wheel and b 1 1-0 A n • » i ] 1 1 : i : \ ERSIOM Exuberanl young lavish life of all Their senses overflowed ; Noting some leafage-softened sunlight fall Where shins of satin glowed, Thitherward thrilling hands of each instole, And eye sought eye, and lip sought lip, for goal. Oh ! they had lightly dared the perilous slope Smooth turf impending over, Dallying playful ; now with ne'er a hope Their guardian angels hover ; His heart love-loyal yet to one at home, Drugged with sense-fumes he palters there with doom! For search him through, no thought nor love you find ; In such a heat they sleep ; One luscious hot dissolving sense doth blind Fuse all their powers and steep; So bees men stupefy within the hive Are reft of honey while they cease to live. What angel may avert the triple loss Of three poor human souls ? But while they lie, in wood-sorrel across From one of nearest boles Flits flustering a brown bird from her nest, By them shy startled in her innocent rest ; ANOTHER VERSION 141 And troubling both nigh brings the woman to, So half awakening him By her coy shrinking; but they startle through Xow, for the silence dim Ruffles with rustling very near their nook : A girl with her wood-bundle while they look Passes unseeing them, but as she goes Lightly she hums an air That stabs him as the dearest one of those ' His bride in days that were Was wont to sing; she fades among the leaves— When 1<>! a shriek the wood's green quiet cleaves. Breathless they listen till it shrills once more Anguished, imploring, wild ; He hurries eager from the woodland floor, And new behold a child — The girl three brutal men are dragging nigh ; One kneels upon her frail form murderously. • Quick ! help her!' cries the lady ; ' they are three ; ' Nay rather let us fly ! ' Fierce unaware by him assailed they flee, Nor will the maiden di< lint in tip was deaU fco hvm the blow That stained him crimson an. I that laid him low. 1 I- ANOTHER VERSION ^ el he confided to me that he chose Even in the moment's rush, If this were Death, the friend, to clasp him close, Ami bo avert the crush Inevitable of a soul's undoing:, ■ Whelming two loved ones in its own fell ruin. So Leaning on the faithful breast he waned, Safe now from rending it, Nor either gentle nature had sustained Death from his fury-fit — The selfish man die victim to his love ! Warm tears of bliss or sorrow shall it move? 143 CRADLE SOXG FOR SUMMER Sleep, my cliildie, sleep I' the hush of evening deep, Gone the last long-lingering beam From where the tender violets dream With closed eyes by the woodland stream : Sleep, my childie, sleep. ri Sleep, my childie, sleep ; Fresh dews of twilight creep Through folded blooms of eglantine, Speedwell and harebell and woodbine ; Yet open the large white bugles shine : Sleep, my childie, sleep. in Sleep, my childie, sleep. Now dewy planets creep Through skies of fading purple-rose, Yon elm full-foliaged ovoHlnws With those love-songs the blackbird knows: p, my cliildie, sleep. 1 1 I CRADLE SONG FOB SUM i\ Sleep, my childie, sleep ; Now drowsy birdies keep More silence ; rare the cuckoo's note, The dove's low plaint hath ceased to float, Sweet breezes flutter in and out : Sleep, my childie, sleep. v Sleep, my childie, sleep ; The skimming moth may sip Our bower's honeysuckle bloom That lavish breathes a rare perfume, I hear the velvet hornet boom : Sleep, my childie, sleep. VI Sleep, my childie, sleep ; The shepherd counts his sheep, I hear the cattle browse and chew, Afield the click of ball that flew Bat-smitten and the boy's halloo: Sleep, my childie, sleep. VII Sleep, my childie, sleep ; Where meadow grass is deep, Nor yet lies heaped the fragrant hay, The crake is calling, or away Where the corn mellows every day, Sleep, my childie, sleep. CRADLE SOXG FOE SUMMER 145 VIII Sleep, my childie, sleep ; Yon primrose skies must keep Some chime of faint and faery bells Whose ebb and flow of tidal swells Or close or open aerial cells ! Sleep, my childie, sleep. IX Sleep, my childie, sleep ; The summer breath can steep All sights and sounds in hallowed rest ; Beneath, far setting toward the West, Rich seas of pasture swoon to mist : Sleep, my childie, sleep, x Sleep, my childie, sleep ; Rare doth the swallow sweep Now lilied pools for dragon-flies, Nor orange mouths that gape supplies While the dam greets with twittering cri< Sleep, my childie, sleep. XI Sleep, my childie, sleep ; Still soft the marten-cheep Below yon eaves from rustic ai With moss and bents and feathers presl Lined warm for many ;i downy breast : p, my childie, sli L 1 16 CRADLE SONG FOR SDMMEB XII Sleep, my childie, sleep ; Four callow fledglings peep No more, but nestle to the wing, Whose darkness ne'er to them can bring Doubt of the parent's sheltering ! Sleep, my childie, sleep. XIII Sleep, my childie, sleep ; Our earthly clouds must weep Their rain upon thy stainless brow ; I only pray my child may know Her Father's wing those shadows throw ; Then ever rest and sleep ! 147 LEONARDO'S CHRIST i One came from forth the unquiet city glare ; Brought heart unhallowed, hard and bitter thought, Dark pride, this passing world's vain restless care ; Which all his soul to unquiet fever wrought "With inarticulate moan for rest, for love : Trod unaware the venerable hall Where day kneels veiled — hushed gazers dare not move — AVhere that grand spirit traced upon the wall A scene all deathless, though the flaking colour fall. II Came and was smitten and bowed, like him who rode Of old so hot and proud till unaware The vision of a lowly Jesus glowed More strong than midday might on him to bear Both soul and frame to earth, there silent laid To list those clear sad loving accents say ■ Wliy persecute me, Saul?' — Yon figure said The like, he deemed, this weary one to-d:n. Yon midmost Form apart i' the pictured Life array. l2 1 18 LEONARDO'S CHRIST UI For there mid fares sharp new pain distressed, Each with his own life-look and features' play, At that last meal sat One from whom the rest, It seemed, withdrew, though but for grieved dismay, Even now withdrew to leave him all alone, Yet not alone the Father being nigh: For He the spell of gloom about them thrown From shadowing trouble near broke ominously, And spake with low distinct yet quivering tone ' Of 3'ou shall one betray Me, chosen for my own.' IV And through yon faded scaling colours gazed, As through the veil of ages passed away, And through heart-mist the wanderer's sight which hazed, Those drooping eyes of melancholy ray, That worn sad face with selfless calm Divine, Pathetic air and gesture ; all again Spake those sad words — to him — ' friend of mine ' Wilt thou betray ? my love did never wane; ' I told heart secrets to thee, Led thee, soothed thy pain ! They ranged or grouped along the dusky stone Of pictured chamber wall, the Lord doth sit Eis head relieved against the tender tone Of land -cape, far and deep light softening it. Leonardo's cheist 149 As ripening afternoon is wont to do In yonder clime with kindly mellowing haze. To steep rnde earth in his own glory-glow . Grows gently sad the sun's triumphant blaze ; To near our world's chill mists he dims in coming low. VI An emblem of His love, whose spirit shines Like yonder sun, calm pure and infinite, But through sweet law of its own life declines Toward our blind heart-broken world, His light While glorifying shrouded low and sad Mid vapours dank of uncongenial sin From false faint hearts, souls fevered hot and mad For pelf, power, fame; about them pale and thin Spurned shivering poor, the weepers round their darling dead. VII Day wore to eve from glad upspringing morn : His day wore on from that all glorious prime When, holding Mary's hand, His steps were drawn A little Child, at day-break, evening time, To that near hollow where the cool well lies And women with their pitchers congregate; Wore on from when the expanding youth for rif Of sun rnid Nazarean bulla would wait With God-communing soul in dark anfathomed < 150 Leonardo's christ viii Or lying where some homeless mountain air Strays sighing through sweet thyme and russet growth Faint purpled, watched sun's bloodred orb from there Sink in the ensanguined sea, suffusing both Wide sky and earth with his own dying glow ; Dark Carmel's promontory warmed to red, Where long ago God's prophet did desire From Heaven the flame, which fell while shrieked and bled False priests of Baal : all burned as with heart of fire. IX His Spirit grew into the mighty thought Of countrymen, of all the world, at strife, The slaves of Evil, to be wisdom taught Less by wise precept than a selfless life: His heart throbbed yearning to embrace the whole: He longed to be among them ; one by one The features of his giant fabric stole Forth from the gloom upon Him — like yon sun He saw His dying Love the world in glory roll. x All Carmcl haunts of prophet, priest or sage, The light of His self-sacrifice illumes ; That ancient Love which breathes from age to age Life into all ; yet newborn youth assumes Leonardo's cheist 151 From now a Man concentrates rays Divine In His own soul and life ; so floods the world ! He, focus of our light, shall ever shine Till we, too wise for Love, His flag have furled ; Or mightier Sun arise to shame Love's pale decline ! XI But shadow deepens now toward the close : His spirit darkens with the coming doom, While they in whom his heart had found repose Of sympathy in good fold close the gloom ; For He who pours His very being forth Divinely rich and pure for these must hear These even now, so nigh the end, in wrath Dispute pre-eminence : while deadly near Looms Peter's base denial, — each one's broken troth ! XII Dai-k, darker yet that anguish 'neath the tree : By torchlight lo ! the ghastly traitor's kiss : On to that inmost depth of agony When God — 'tis still the Father doing this — Ills own hand draws before those filming eyes To hide Himself — there in man's lowest deep Back thrusting sin's un tasted cup He dies : 'I' he blank dead face of that Eternal Sleep BKa coming wakes to flush with solemn grand surprise ! r>2 I EONAEDO'S CHBIBl XII] And ever since that awful joy hath dwelt . Upon the dark long-dreaded face of Death; And ever since those dreary regions melt In His self-sacrificing sunset breath : I Jut now it is the shadowing doom that weighs His spirit down: He gives the bread and wine, That they and multitudes His soul surveys Of men unborn in ever lengthening line May feed upon His love through all the circling days — xiv Ah ! passive hand, in life but raised to save, They use thee cold to strike the wanderers low ! Ah ! silent voice, all silent in the grave, Thou tendcrest breath of love in ear of Woe ! Thou guardian wing must speed their shafts of scorn, Of hard harsh pride — O long- enduring Lord, Death holds not Thee] Thou 'from the dead firstborn,' Arise, and wield once more the flaming sword, That ne'er smote but the proud ; lift once more them that mourn ! 153 A CONFESSION (Scene, a Prison Cell. Prisoner to Clergyman loq.) ' I should have known she never conld be mine : What was in me to hold a woman's love ? She, in the bloom of her transcendent yonth, And I not even young and never fair, N r like some brave or brilliant in wit. Yet I adored her — ah ! she trod upon So many gay silk cloaks obeisant laid 'Neath her queen feet, 'twas condescension deep For her to walk upon my garment worn. How should she stay to ponder the gallants Had much such raiment stored in cedar-presses And lavish strewed for other feet than hers, While this poor cloak I laid for her, this love Of mine, it was my all, and all for her? Set, had I felt her shudder as she gave Berself to me! but sweet she seemed and bland As ever well I knew she could not love A- I loved her, I never looked for that — So very lit I le liad COnteiilrd me. 154 A CONFESSION Attar of roses, — only a drop of it Outperfumes floods of common essences. But she averred — I see her sitting now Broidcring silk and gold in delicate kid With dainty fingers, lifting, ah ! those eyes Soft as horizons in the summer time, Answering in that low sweet tone of hers — That long her heart had been my own ; she feared I cared not for her since I did not speak. And I, who hardly dared to lift mine eyes, But stammered shuffling awkwardly before her Praying her leave me but a little hope, Thus caught up unaware to paradise ! First I was stunned incredulous with joy, And broke to foolish tears like some big child, Shy touching her ; and then because she smiled So placid, half amused I fancied, fear She might be sporting with me struck me faint. I said it, but she kissed away my doubt ; And yet I felt a secret want, a chill, Through all her kindness — nay, it must be so Ever I whispered to my yearning heart; She loves, even she, loves me, and only me. I cannot fathom what she wanted now — Oh could it be the paltry manor-house ? Was she not sure I would have laid the whole, All toil-worn earnings of my father's life And mine, if she had hinted what she craved, A CONFESSION 1-55 All at her feet ? Ah ! could it e'er behove, Reaching for bubble vanities like these, To tread upon a fond man's living heart? But they who warped her gentle sinless soul, Trailed earthward its young shoot assiduous Lest it should Godward grow as it desired, Respectable, smooth, pious, and accurst, They are to blame — not thou, my murdered love ! Well I was heavy, taciturn, I know, No meet companion for a sylph like her. I went about my work ; from morn till night I toiled for her pud for the little ones. Two babes were ours, a little girl and boy. I thought of little but my work and them, And in the evenings jaded with my toil From the black town preoccupied I came. How sweet the faces of my darlings then ! Yet cares were on me, care for my beloved. Such sordid topics could not be for her To share the weary burden of with me, Who lived for music and embroidery, Deft tracing tasteful ornamental work For some bazaar or cyphers intricate, Chattiug with friends or dancing at a ball. I dull and weary sitting in the room, Only a few feet far from her in flesh, In spirit felt her myriad leagues away — She had so little heed for what absorbed L56 A CONFESSION Me more and more, and weighed me down in dust. And [, alas ! in my armchair I slept While she was playing brillianl passages Or quavering through the last new opera By Verdi. Hard she seemed to me and cold : ( \ mtemptuous familiarity, That rust of love marriage may generate, Enhanced with her hy lowly estimate (Too well deserved) of my so homely wit, I felt in her demeanour shivering ; Sluggish and dull to her aerial games, A mayfly with a crawling snail for mate. 'But once I, forcing my slow hrain to think Of something she would like that I could bring Home for her from the town, had samficed A scheme long cherished, and so bought for her A necklace I had heard her longing for : And then I think — yes, Sir, I do believe She loved me when I took it from the case — Not the bright bauble, but the man who gave ! She looked and flung herself upon me, Sir, Tears in her sun-laugh : " I was very good ; She wished she were a better wife to me." With choking voice I only made reply, " You do then love me : is it true indeed ? " " Oh, John ! " she faltered hiding her in me : And then I blessed my desolate barren life A CONFESSION 157 For holding in its weary waste of sand This blessed moment : here at home you know Lightly we value our abundant wells ; But once I heard a traveller from the East Describe a desert march interminable Through scorching sand — the rapture of the drone Of distant waterwheels upon his ear, The cool and liquid flash upon his eye Of spilling water from revolving jars Sleeked with acacia shadows as they stirred ! ' Yet even in such a trifle I was slow Shrewdly to guess what thing she fancied m< My mind was srnothei'ed in the moil accurst, And if she asked me, that was not the same. But now I forced myself to cross her whim Many a time for fear of what might chai In ruin of my fortune waning fast. < h ce hinting somewhat of my fear to her, She but replied I looked the gloomy side. The Bible said despondency was sin; Business she hated, could not comprehend. Therefore I plodded on, hiding with care twin- woes feeding ever insatiable . itals of my tortured breast. •Well. Bir, among her gaj acquaintai W\ I and Bang and chatted often with i 158 A CONFESSION Was that — the person whom I need not name. Handsome and gay and brilliant I believe: I used to think, I owned it to myself, Nature had moulded them for one another, Not her for me — and if not her, not any ! Who should be mine in yonder world or this If not my darling? but I trusted her, Utterly blindly then I trusted her. Yes, I was blind, old dotard, a fond fool; (But love is blind), until a "friend sincere," Hinted a warning: I indignant flushed, Plucked forth the barb and flung it in his face. But I suppose it rankled unaware : I caught myself at hovering nigh the pair With wistful eyes, till once I somewhat saw Which startled me to faintness with the shock Of half-incredulous wonder and dismay. But then a horrid fascination drew Me to peer closer — many a trifle now Fraught with keen anguish to my sickened heart. ' One afternoon, I well remember it, Our little girl was playing with my beard, Climbed frolicsome on father's mountain knee, In a sweet arbour of our shaven lawn, A summer evening ; and her mother came Round on us unaware, and sitting nicrh How beautiful she looked, the sun upon her, A CONFESSION 159 Through green festooning of the lush woodbine Sleeking her curls and dainty waist and foot ! The child cried, " Let me go, I want mamma ; " I murmured in my agony of spirit, Still yearning to her, bleeding for her sin And treachery, nor holding it full-proven, Half to myself and half for her to hear, " Your darling lovely naughtiest mamma ! " She wincing looked with such a scared white look I see it now, and shudder seeing it ; For ah ! there was no ruth, no lingering scent Of what might once have been a love for me ; It was mere scare ; it took away my hope, I think — not all — hope heaved and fluttered yet. The child with poor dazed face betwixt us two Said piteous, "Mamma, you are not naughty;" Yet at her terrible white abstracted look Returned and hid her face in me and cried. But soon the mother rose, and sitting by me Took my cold hand and feigning to be gay Questioned me "what I meant? what could I mean ? She thought I must be dreaming, not myself, At least she craved to know my secret thought. What had she done? She would explain it all If I would tell her ; " but I looked her through, And shut my lips ; I could not say it out ; Yet tried to smile (I doubt a withered smile), And passed my hand athwart my throbbing brow, 160 A CONFESSION And stammered I believed that I was ill, And she had seemed so cold of late to me. Of course she probed me little satisfied; But I Avas silent : no proof positive Was mine : how bring myself to charge disgrace, Dishonour upon the idol of my life ? Preoccupied that evening she appeared, Yet strove to seem affectionate and kind, Attentive and considerate for me. There was a certain pleading in her eyes And movement bringing me my cup of tea That touched me in my stunned bewilderment, Recalling soft the blessed year of trust When I lay childlike pillowed on her breast, Marvelling God should lend His seraph to me. You've seen a huge trunk lying prone and bare With sappy layers concentric where 'twas hewn Grown dry and soiled, yet through the wrinkled bark Will creep some budding twigs at breath of spring ; So my heart budded at her look and touch. ' But then there lowers the nightmare horrible — Well, in the dark, Sir, when we lay in bed Abrupt she blurted her confession out — Not tremulous sobbing, weeping tears of blood, Ah ! no — in hesitating tones she spoke, Yet slow and measured, in deliberate choice li seemed of phrase appropriate, as though A CONFESSION 1(31 A task oppressive weary burdensome Herself or some third person imposed on her. " Something had lain upon her conscience long : She saw I knew it, had been near the telling : She was about to pray me to forgive ; And it was very wicked to deceive Me who had been so very good to her — Yet when I knew the whole she trusted I, Tender and generous-hearted, would forgive." Ah ! Sir, to cling convulsive to a tuft Over a precipice and feel it give ! To lean secure with all your soul upon One bosom, and for it to let you down Crumbling to dust, a bosom of the dead ! When she began to speak I now recall I shook as with an ague turning cold. God ! did she fancy that my heart was wood, So leisurely she fixed and screwed within it The cruel bradawl of her measured words ? Mere phrases of remorse conventional, No love ! scant pity — weak and stupid I Docile and generous and submissive to her — Did her indifference to me and contempt Go lengrth of holding me an idiot mild With not a man's heart or intelligence? Because I could not trill duets with her, Or spin her sentimental versicles, Illuminate her prayer-book, almanac, H 1G2 A CONFESSION Because I was not smooth and rose-coloured Like any woman, nor Adonis-limbed, Was t'i:tt a proof I had no power to feel, That I, just God ! was not a living man, Wnate'er the fashion's popinjay might be? A human life spilt shivered at her feet And tingling with blest sense of scope fulfilled Exhaling there its costly fragrancy ! Such a devotion even God in Heaven Accounts no refuse, claiming for His own. It was not she to spurn me — it was God! Nay, but He uses for our punishment Those very idols we have dared enthrone ! ' There I lay suffering, all her cruel words Cutting me keen like flying spikes of ice, Until when she avowed (more self-composed And calm with talk) abysms of treachery My ghastliest suspicion never plumbed, I think, I verily believe, that reason Pell swooning from her seat, and then the devil Took full possession of my tortured soul — I rose up a mere maniac -with blind Lust to crush out the thing that tortured me : My fingers clutched her delicate soft throat, And tightened, tightened, like a vice in it. The paroxysm past I sank again Exhausted on the pillow all confused. A CONFESSION 163 How long I lay I know not, but the truth Of what had chanced shaped horrible itself Slowly before me in the lurid gloom. That moment how I bated her — yet soon I fell to wondering why she lay so still. I only knew I had been violent With her, yet not too brutal, even now I hoped relenting — then I listened intent — A sickening fear pressed suddenly upon me ! Why does she he so quiet that her breath I cannot hear! I have not hilled her — no — Impossible ! she means to frighten me For my unmanly violence but now. Alter awhile I shyly touched her brow — Great Heaven ! it is clammy, it is cold :. I shudder, daring not to feel again. I cannot, will not credit that can be. 1 kill her ! I ! Cruel to frighten me, Cruel again — I call her under breath, Then louder, tenderly, and soft again I breathed her blessed name — without reply. • • • • . I will not add another sin to this, I thought : my death is sure remaining here. I expiate my crime before the world, Then follow her — we meet before the Just. Hut I went cowering to the window nierh — Wherefore 1 know not — it was early dawn; U 2 I'M A CONFESSION Our casemenl was ajar; some birds awoke In our near h-ees ; one lark broke up the grey — Tlic dawning of our honeymoon's first night When I had crept thus to enjoy the dawn And soft air fragrant with the scent of hay! (Only last year we played in yonder hay She and I with the little ones together). The cattle couched upon the dewy lawn, < )ur near church-spire in quiet chrysolite Among the waning stars where she is gone — My darling slept then with her pretty face In her child-hand, and long I watched her lie — And now, my God ! my love has brought to this The only thing my love was set upon. But all I touched I ruined when I touched, And one long foredoomed failure is my life. Why was I born ? And yet there is a God — An awkward child my favourite toys I broke, And boyish games I spoiled wherein I played, in business ruined others and myself! I covered up the marred but precious face ; And when they stirred about the house, I called And told them I had done it, and again Sat by the darling body, feeling glad That she and I were now at peace for ever. The problem so insoluble to me, The weary problem of this tangled life, I fingered but to tangle more hopelessly, A CONFESSION 1G5 Is nigh the solving : I have let it rest : Nothing can come between us any more. Tell me, Sir, as a clergyman, your thought. Sometimes it seems the more I ponder it That, now the brutal frenzy-fit has passed From me for ever, and the moment dire Of her death-anguish passed away from her, Her spirit, sloughing off the film obscure Of earth upon her eyes, beholds at last The man I am, the bottomless abyss Of all my love for her — from agony Emergent saw, and seeing loved at last, The man so loving that he murdered her At the first shock of feeling that his love, The priceless treasure of his boundless love, Lay dropt unseen, unheeded underfoot. She did not know me, did not understand : That will be changed there — now her eyes are open. I think she waits to fall upon my breast Radiant now with all the love I craved, Announcing God the loving hath forgiven Both His poor wildered children who have sinned ! ' 106 A CHILD'S FUNERAL No passer in the strait and dreary road By hedgerows dank with rain : From dusk low clouds the rain unceasing flowed And the wind blew amain. Only a little coffin borne of four With two to mourn — none other Follow as mourners through the windy pour, The father and the mother. A little pall is floating black and white, The mourners' faces set Upon the ground as though they envied quite Their lifeless baby pet. They do not feel the chill and soaking crape ; But the tilting to and fro They feel of that cold helpless baby shape As the careless bearers go. a child's funeral 107 Ah ! where the gambols of his bounding limbs Buoyant with springing life ? Sweet light-and-shadow chase of baby whims, Laughter and tears at strife ? No more again will patter tiny feet In his bright nursery, No innocent prattle of his will hinder sweet The day's dull drudgery. Ah ! pouting of his roselips for a kiss, And dimpled arms that clung — Trifles, for him a marvel and a bliss To name with lisping tongue ! I follow to the little grave at hand, I hear the griding rope, And shuffling feet of them that lowering stand, And those grand words of hope. The parents look as though the rope did gride Their sinking hearts about, As if on them the earth were thrown to hide And from the light shut out. But once me thinks the mother, raising eyes At those grand words Bhe hears Read from the Holy Hook to murky skies, l,i_'ni breaks behind the tears, 1G8 a child's funeral And feeds for her some shy emerging bow : The father's face I see Is dark and hopeless, though his spirit know Divine the mystery. But he will wind a man's strong arm about The woman faltering : They, since their life's wee fire has dwindled out, For warmth more close will cling. J G'J SONG 'I WENT, DEAR, BY THE BROOK TO-DAY ' i I went, dear, by the brook to-day, The little brook was dry, No shoals flash fair in a sunny ray Shooting the shallow nigh, Nor silverly clinks the crystal free As the startled minnows fly. n Our ouo wild apple above the pool Bath yielded blossoms long To gleamy water lingering cool, Birds weary now of song, No winged blue halcyon flits with glee '•n bulrushes among, 170 'I WENT, DEAR, BY THE BROOK TO-PAT.' Only a teasel moves a flower And a languid meadowsweet, Dull leaves are thirsting for a shower, Blue airs arc pale with heat. Ah! never again by the brook with me Thy fairy foot may fleet ! IV There is no water in the brook Nor any rosy bloom, Music and rain the leaves forsook — And thou hast left in gloom A heart that yearns, O love, to thee Over the far sea foam. in MIXXIE Minnie ! our Minnie ! did I ever tell About the morning of the day she went ? Knee-deep in marigolds, the sunlight fell On lilac frock and gold enravelment Of mistlikc hair, And cherub-fair Face, with blue eyes of merry wonderment. She stood as gaily listening intent, Clapping babe-dimpled hands with tender stroke; While forward arch her little head she bent, 'That was Papa's voice; it was he that spoke, 'Called "Minnie, dear!" ' I heard him clear ' — No voice bul h ra the summer Btillnes wol 172 MIXXIF. Nay, darling, you mistook ; Papa's away,' I answered, ' far from here across the sea.' Dreamy she looked ; ' Mayhap he came to-day, ' And he has brought some pretty thing for me. ' He called, I know ; ' let me go, ' Mamma, I'm sure he wants me on his knee ! ' ' He may have called, perchance, from very far ; ' Come, dearest, come away, and look for him ! ' No sound I heard, and he was in the war ; I wondered at the little maiden's whim. My musing fell On Samuel, The child who thought Eli was calling him. You know who called him ! . . .well, that very night Our little one lay in her little cot Dead, scathed with lightning, like an angel white, Her face unspoiled . . . He would have called her not Away from me, Unless that He Some lovelier thing for His wee lamb had got ! 73 THE TWO FRIENDS Fast friends at school two maidens grew, And wintry age still found them true, Ellen of gentle clinging mould, And Maud who seemed reserved and cold. Maud loved to question why and how, What men are taught all-keen to know, Yet learned with graceful modesty And blushed to make some wise reply. But Ellen, she was formed for love, More soft than softest airs that move Instinct with cooings from the grove. Once only, yet a girl, she loved A midshipman, who sailed and roved O'er half the world, but kept as leal A heart as when he used to kneel An infant by his mother's side. Yet he was poor: a guardian's pride Ami shallow fondness often urge Of him who sweeps the alien surge — And in his lonely nightwatch ]7i THE TWO FRIENDS Her fare in phosphor-foam thai flees, But loves vmi stars best, for they keep Blesl eyes upon her innocent sleep — That boys are fickle roaming far, That greater, wealthier suitors are Here at her feet — but sensitive To love as little flowers that give Their closest secrets to the morn At his first kiss, and shut forlorn Their crimson tips when skies are grey, "Where conscience sheds no doubtful ray This tender woman from her way Not prayers nor fires may tempt to stray. And so she waits for weary years ; And since she cannot bend with tears Hearts warped by worldliness, they hold A solemn council as they fold, These lovers with their sacred love, "Who bids them, would they worthy prove, Forsake the world to follow Him ; So Maud with vision suffused and dim In part from joy, in part maybe From some dim hungering jealousy, Receives the fugitives, whose home Their home with her shall hence become. He grows a leader in the state, While all her life is consecrate To cheer him wearied oft, and tend THE TWO FRIENDS i-tO Fair infants God to them may lend. The sick and poor around her bless Her grace of human tenderness, While men, half-hearted foes of wrong, With her wax chivalrous and strong, Though worldlings shun with coward sense Her dauntless front of innocence. At noble deeds her heart would bound As a war-horse at the trumpet's sound ; And glories of the earth and air Her limpid spirit mirrors fair — Nor only shrines them, since they don Fresh forms and lovelier every one Prom sprouting seedlike in her soul; Till carols of the Spring-bird roll From her white throat in human strain More rare to nature given again; She feels the blossomed landscape wane llued like young wheat -bloom through the boughs Of foliaged oaks, and placid cows In lustrous cowslip-meadows lie, One lapse of light the river nigh ; And lo ! such landscapes of our land Glow new-born 'neath her fairy hand Creating even as bees who dive In flower-sweets their own to hive. I Jut, when the West grew all suffused 1 7<'> THE TWO FRIENDS "With sunset, ami the farnis were fused With their own orchards on the hill, The murmurous water-wheel stood still Beside the bridge in yonder vale. Nor yet the cushat plainings fail, Then would she through the open door I'll at opened on the lawn outpour A mystic organ harmony So dreamlike over earth and sky That in dusk woods wee birds that doze Sank deeper into sweet repose : While Maud hung over her, or drank That music as the twilight sank Upon the terrace walk, until The fluttering white robe would fill Her grateful sight, till Ellen came And her pale spirit-brow the flame Of a young moon kissed sisterly ; Maud asked no heaven, with Ellen by. Men called her somewhat cold and stern ; On blatant folly she could turn Severely — not for her the looks Of amorous men ; in learned books Immersed she seemed, and yet she kept A nook of heart where Ellen crept So warm the love of common wives Were pale, niethinks, to that which lives THE TWO FEIEM 177 In this stern woman for her friend. If Ellen absent do not send By every mail some word that bears On her own self, tells how she fares, Even the very dress she wears, That Maud may image her distinct, The daily drudgeries have linked With them no joy for Maud ; she droops, And only for to-morrow hopes. The little ones had asked a boon One balmy summer afternoon When they and Ellen and her lord To spend what days he might afford From public duties here with Maud Had come : the children eager prayed That where by Maud's command was made dp high among the chestnut boughs, Where the breeze freshly stirs and soughs, What Maud had called a children's nest (Not stern to them the weans confessed) With nailed .sawn branch and stairs that wound About the grey trunk from the ground, That here at tea-time should be spread Their evening meal — and here new bread, I -h pats of butter, milk that foamed, ■ strawberries ripe crimson-domed, In porcelain translucent slight N I , 3 THE TWO FRIENDS As eggs the shy wildbird by flight In her moss nest reveals to light, Ami other dainties, on the rude Plank of a table tempting stood. The children feasted, Ellen by Aglow with their felicity, While light and shade from flickering leaves Soft chequerwork about fchem weaves; Then gamesome through the woods they run, Their shadows in the westering sun Slow-lengthening, and laugh and pull The bluebells, what a basketful ! And Maud and Ellen wander too, While notes of rapture filter through The leafage as from Heaven's blue ; So arm in arm they wander home, But in the after-sunset gloom Out on the dusky dewy lawn Those dulcet organ-tones are borne. So time wears on ; Maud's late brown hau- ls streaked with grey, though not the fair Of Ellen's in its gleamy fold ; And she is absent, as of old. But now so far her dwelling-place Long linger letters o'er the space. Her health has ailed, and friends advise For her the warmth of southern skies; THE TWO FRIENDS 179 But thrice the welcome echoing 1 horn Has thrilled Maud in the sunny morn ; She knows yon bluff mail-guard may bear The writing that she holds so dear — Each morn a blank — her heart feels faint, Yet never makes she open plaint. At length, 'mongst others, rimmed with black A letter comes — not hers — and back The blood ebbs sudden from her face ; Some dizzy darkness doth efface The happy day; she dares not read — She knows all day for her is dead. And yet the record is of peace, Of life still lapsing till it cease, And our few fretful bubbles die In fathomless tranquillity ! Herself had told of orange-groves Beneath the window that she loves, Whence she can look upon the main Rich velvet-blue with ne'er a stain, O'erarched with sapphire crystalline Pale blending in horizons fine : The letter adds that there she lay, And with each rising of the day Fresh-crowned with youth's immortal ray A little more she fades away, Albeit the strong man sobbing pray: ■■ to ber window, damp the brow, n'2 !m> THE two friends Faint to the dim eve waneth now Yon far seablue, and soft warm air To failing sense doth fragrance bear Of her dear garden ; till so calm She .passed it seemed that air of balm Lured sisterlike her gentle sprite To nutter with it into light. The end to Ellen came serene ; Death was on Jesus' breast to lean After life's supper by him spread — Maud only felt that she was dead. They said her friend was gone before ; She felt she would not see her more. She did her duties as of old, But all her face looked grey and cold. Some glow with their own spirit's heat, Their joy full-pulsed will ever beat And kindle dullest clouds that stain Till sorrow burns in glory's train ; But some for joy do much depend On what these favoured spirits lend, And like a snow-alp Maud grew wan When Ellen sank who was her sun. Nor had she left a friend to stir The healing fount of tears for her ; For then with broken whispers they, Naming the one beloved who lay THE TWO FRIENDS 181 In darkness yonder, surely could Ease eacli her solitary load. To lose one only friend is loss — Is loss of all — and ne'er would cross Maud's lips from, now that sacred name : But Ellen's sunny room the same As when she left it stays, all fair And only waiting Ellen there As Maud has decked ; she keeps the key ; None ever enter there but she At night when all sleeps tranquilly, If weeping there are none to see. Each little trifle lying out 'Gainst Ellen's coming spread about She has been wont how oft ! to use ; Maud even her favourite flowers renews. And as to name the lost none dare, So from the dark day Maud can bear No stranger hand to touch the keys Whose organ- tones upon the breeze Were wont at evening time to float, Nor have the hushed woods heard a note Since Ellen went; but in her room Maud lives in ever lonely gloom, Eer heart in Ellen's foreign tomb. arce would slic see a human face Onless for du1 But the place L82 TIIE TWO FRIENDS In later years one visited : Nor knew that sacred to the dead Maud kept the organ — waiting there, And finding music many a year Laid by disused as it was left By Ellen, took it up and cleft The long years' silence with a strain That Maud of yore had been more fain To listen for than any one, When happy day's bright current on With lapse insensible had flown. And it was such a summer-eve, Fair as those were, and Maud to leave Her solitary chamber thought, For evening's peace within her wrought Some peace of spirit, and she felt As Ellen's spirit with her dwelt — When lo ! once more the organ breathes, And as she trembling stands enwreathes Her numb and wounded heart once more As in dear faded eves of yore With old familiar arms of love — s As if such grief found pow r er to move At last the daisy-sprinkled dead To turn and yearn to it and spread Wide arms of love to fold us round For all the deep sleep underground ! To Maud that organ-voice had grown THE TWO FRIENDS 183 As Ellen's voice, her very own, Bare breathings from her secret soul : Who now but Ellen's self should roll To-night the old weird harmonies So faintly breathed as from the skies To call the sweet mist in the eyes ? ' And is she come herself again ? 'Even in God's very smile my pain ' Like a vague shadow flitted o'er ' Her basking spirit, and it bore ' Her down a moment, ah ! not more ' An angel than she was of yore !' She weeps but quiet tears and sweet While silent steals she down and fleet, So noiseless entering the player Plays on, nor dreams that she is there. She stands in deepening twilight, now The old low melancholy flow Of wind is in the elms ; through tears Afar through twilight vague appears The figure playing, she could deem It is the Ellen of her dream ! She knows she dreams, yet loves too well To let the dear illusion dwell; Untd at last so mighty throbs Her pent emotion that she sobs Aloud, and startling causes turn Tin player, who views amazed the stern L8 1 THE TWO FRIENDS Pale woman shaken thus with grief — All! healthful tears, ye bring relief. ' Go on ' she murmurs and she prays For all the music Kllcn plays. So from that day God eased her load, And more submissively she trod Her lonely way, and comfort sought In those sweet works that Ellen wrought, Through intercourse with many poor, Who bless her now she is no more. She fell on sleep with hope the while One face would on her waking smile. 185 MENCHERES : A VISION OF OLD EGYPT* Mbthought I floated on the ancient Kile 'Neath an abrupt and weird craggy pile, Its flame-hued cliffs caverned with many a tomb, Haunt of lone winds and birds of dusky plume. A boat with monks that chaunted floated nigh; But when they paused, some awful far reply Came ever from the mountain's heart: one said, ' A voice from old-world priests of ages dead, ' Who slumbering in their stupendous faue ' Deep in yon mountain's heart are roused again ■ With a faint consciousness that stirs and dies ' To breathe a note of hoary litanies, ' Erewhile they chaunted while impassive Death 'Quenched ever some poor heart's weak flame of ii.itb.' A tone it s'iimr purple lupins or the tendrilled pea, Or misty flax-beds thrilling airily, With strained shadoof Yon stooping hind aloof Eills from the Nile his conduit constantly. A VISION OF OLD EGYPT 191 O sweetest shade of yon miruosa groves "Where soft-hued turtles ever coo their loves ! With mild flanie-crest the gentle-toned hoopoe Flits through shy sunlights into open blue, If air unweaves Loose clouds of dainty leaves, Mantles mild sunniness the foliage through. And all is fair, for thou art with me, child, Sole budding of my house, dear undefiled, My love, my hope, blithe like the merry bird, Shrinking with shadowing of a chilly word ! The meanest thing The old, the sorrowing, In thy fresh facelight with rejoicing stirred. And I grow young again breathing the air Of early morning ; all the prince's care, All anxious quest for ever-eluding truth, For woes of this great people all my ruth, Melts all from me, A child I gambol free By the fresh bubbling springs of life with thee ! Dance on, my maiden, trip it on before, Babbling strange tales to ne'er an auditor ; Singing by snatches, for a flower bending, Blessing lone nooks of woodland in thy wending ! Through shade and sun , Cease, little one, to run, Now to the carven barge wre will be tending. 192 MENCHERES: And there upon the river's broad expanse We'll watch the myriad-curling ripple glance, ()n yon sandbank grey dotterel soft sip The bright-brown fringe, or crested plover clip With curtsey quick At every calling click Plumed black and white he utters in his trip. 'Tis noon, relentless rules the blaze Of our Sun-god that ne'er a breeze allays. Far far away the windless river burning Through wan sand-levels dimly banked Of distant yellow hills, but nearer flanked With palm-girt loam-built thorps at every turning, And oft a huge stone temple spread "With obelisk and sphinx and banner red ; Silent from heat our swarthy sailors towing The boat becalmed with rope on land ; Anon some baked wave-mined mass at hand From yon loam-ridge is loosened in their going, Falling with sudden splash and thud, Nor mars my soul's luxurious mood Enhanced of distant waterwheels' long droning, For dreamy listlessness akin To hazy light the lulled world swooneth in. I know the hind in midst of that intoning Sits in the centre of the wheel While hemp-slung jars tilt ever and refill, A VISION OF OLD EGYPT 193 A yoke of patient circling oxen guiding, Roofed from the scorching glare By large leaves of the melons trellised there. On yon low sandflat motionless abiding, Behold a crocodile, and nigh Upon the neighbour bank one may espy Some ibis white with pink flamingoes resting ; But when day waneth we shall hear Clangour of wild geese in the crystal clear, Their living chain wedgewise the glory breasting. Westers the great god, now I move Brooding alone to yon palm-grove. Tis evening hour when the palm Looks loveliest in skiey calm. It seems to mount unwavering Awhile for all delights that cling, Till last yields all the high resolve In graceful languor to dissolve, "Wanton with crimsoned plume in air, Dally with moonlight soft and fair. The Sun sinks — many a soul with him Now must explore the regions dim. The flood like molten metal glows, Taking the tarnish soon that grows On metal from the furnace poured, 194 MKNCHERES: With richest greens and purples floored Beside, a brief but gorgeous hour — Now wakes a breeze with welcome power To speed the ship ; they set the sail, While I from far well-pleased hail The terabok and measured chaunt Of oarsmen sweetly wont to haunt Old Nile at evening, while the crew Indolent near their fire strew The deck : one stirs the lentil meal Over the flame; our ship doth steal Still as a spirit up the glow Of dusking gold, her form below And moonlight sail i' the water's hush Fainter repeated, and the flush Of her deck-fire with a blush. They anchor now for night upon the strand. Beneath a palm upon the visions grand That occupy my soul I sit and brood, Scheming to compass all my people's good. From yon lone waste some dismal jackal bays, Far dogs bark in the village as there strays A wight belated ; now while starbeams fleck The tender grey of water, on my deck Slumber my sailors : light of heart are they, Laughing and singing blithely all the day, A VISION OF OLD EGYPT 195 In tlieir scant raiment sleeping free from care — But these are happy — yea, this people are Light-hearted all — great Heaven ! that is well : Not bitterest agelong tyranny may quell These buoyant natures incompressible. Yet, ! my people toiling more than beasts TVhile your proud lords loll scornful at their feasts, 'Neath your tanned hide there beats a human heart, Your bleeding feet with writhing lashes smart, Your backs are mangled, but your spirits bleed More sorely yet, for at your bitter need A jeer, a curse, a contumelious lip Excoriates more cruel than the whip ! I in disguise late roamed amid the clangs From chisel and mallet of the slaving gangs Among some toilers tottering 'neath the weight Of rubble borne from where they excavate, "Whose dusk maimed limbs the rubble doth encrust, Their overseer as they bear the dust Clapping his hands to regulate the time Of their monotonous mechanic chime. I heard a youth approaching timid say, 'Let yon frail girl fall out, my lord, I pray! 'Tut upon me her share of work to-day, •Sh< .-nil beats upon her head!' (Hia !"\<- Bhe was for whom lie dared u> plead) o 2 L96 MK\vnn:i:s : liul the man spurned liini with a brutal wit, And soon the girl fell foaming in a fit. Harnessed by thousands to the wooden sledge, Those huge blocks quarried with the swollen wedge These sweating human beasts of burden bore Along the causeway from the river shore. Scarce one is left to sow the fallow field, Strong dykes neglected to the waters yield, From frugal serfs the hoarded store is reft, And starved men's corpses to the vultures left ; While to defraud the poor our priests combine To load God's scales of justice, the Divine, And sway them as the golden bribes incline ! Yet 'tis a noble pile that doth arise Soon like my sire's to climb and flout the skies, Scale with its flashing mount of lucid grey Of Syenite fair radiant as Day Yon very sanctuary of the Sun, Who must wax pale when Pharaoh's work is done ! Foodful gold fields of Memphis withering prone In leaguelong menace of their shadowy frown. Alas ! my people on crushed human breasts Yon haughty mount of stone triumphant rests, It was set up in hearts of your firstborn, Of wives and daughters outraged and forlorn, Kneaded with blood of men the lime adheres, The iron that wrought was tempered in your tears ! A VISION OF OLD EGYPT 197 And will the Avenger slumber evermore For all the bitter crying of the poor ? How long may savour of men's evil deeds Stink in the nostrils till Ra-Amun heeds? Be patient, mortal ! for He bides his time ; The world's deep curse and memory of their crime Huo-e stones about the necks of these shall he Dragging them low to agelong infamy ! Ah! were I king — not for the weary state — But I would snatch my people from such a fate, Pour balm into their wounds and save my land From the nigh blaze of Heaven's avenging brand, Ere plague and famine decimate them quite, And in limp hands lingers no more the might To ward from glazing eyes the loathly foreign kite ! By day and night the burning longing grows In me that God will to my soul disclose No momentary easing of the pain, Some dru» with virtue to consume the bane ! II Then my dream changed— on Mencheres the asp In gold a king doth on his forehead clasp Bespoke him monarch now: slowly he walked v, l-li some graceful noble stripling talked; By mellowing grain lithe waved and simmering In the bine morn lay their sweet communing. 198 MENCHERES : Earnest intent the stripling's mobile face With hearkening, save when a sadden race Some jerboa commenced with nimble leap Nigh to their startling feet, or at the sweep Of shadowing pinions from a falcon nigli ; Then wandered the chace-lover's eager eye And thought awhile — then oft King Mencheres "Would pause and shift allusion upon these, Instinct with heedful sympathy and keen For all men doting christen great and mean. Measures accomplished or projected still For weal of craftsmen, weal of men who till, For stimulating niggardly dull soil To liberal crown a less laborious toil, Arrest a partial handling of the laws And pluck their prey from ravenous red claws, Such themes their converse visits as they wend, Higher illuminating in the end, Startling the silent heart of mysteries Where vulgar footfall ne'er profanely pries. " Too subtle abstruse unhuman such a creed To serve the people in their hourly need ; To thee I open, dearest neophyte, That thou and other few may bear the light Enkindled here to many a darkling spirit, How from the sacred lore we all inherit I culled a germ, that lay as grain may lie. A VISION OF OLD EGYPT 199 Shut from all use in sepulchres flung by, Save it and plant and water it alone Till sprout soft green wings from the jasper stone, And wonder! for it springs to juiceful food, Leaguelong gold seas of life for mortal good. Yea, the old symbol of Osiris I Took to fecundate and revivify ; Image of man's ideal life I wrought For worship as with Deity full-fraught, Breaking no other gods, yet setting mine Supreme in eveiy heart and every shrine. But lo ! we near sweet places cool and dim Among the acacias ; chaunt fair youth the hymn You know of yours, rest here upon the mint In flower, while I the marjoram will dint." Holy yon living Stream Ever twinbom all-luminous with beam Of orient Day arising flush With everlasting youth, lotus and rush Waking from womb of parent Kile Crimson beneath the Sun's engendering smile. Hither let mortal bring The votive offering ! Engendering the land By quickening the river's loamy sand, Whose eldest-born Leviathan All reptiles follow and the lizard clan; Emblemed in hawk of fervid eyes And fire suppressed that in the plumage lies, '200 MENCHERES : Lordly dominion, stately wings that sweep As native to it all the sunny steep. Hither lei mortal bring The votive offering I Offspring himself of Light That puts all chaos of the soul to flight. Life culminated in human flower, Eer fair world-stem maturing into power Of man's all-glassing consciousness, Yielding to each a form and comeliness. Hither let mortal Lrinjr The votive offering ! Yea, with one flame Divine High and mean things evolved in order shine, Pain, wrong, but embryos of good, Even our dwarf Virtue sapling of a wood To crown with fruits of unforeboded grace Worlds of intelligence of kinglier race. Hither let mortal brine The votive offering! ■*o III Some interval of years appeared to pass, And then my vision showed as in a glass Mencheres little aged, but sad and changed, As slowly now and moodily he ranged With echoing foot the shadowed peristyle Of that vast inner court within the pile Of his great palace, every massy column Carved to a giant god of aspect solemn. A VISION OF OLD EGYPT 201 An aged priest stern grave and dignified AYorldwise of aspect pacing him beside. ' My hope is ont — it is decreed in Heaven, ' I said, that I shall train this child to leaven ' The people with my doctrine when I go, • For she had felt the godlike thirst to know, 'And knowing with her woman's heart and tact ' She might have vivified my dream to fact : ' In all men's soul the worship would have stirred ' And germinated ; now your evil herd ' Of priesthood scenting peril roots it out ' With snout obscene, or in the arid drought ' Of dead parched superstition-ridden mind 'No soil congenial the seed can find. ' Xow she is gone, my darling ! stricken down, ' And since that hour I loathe my barren crown. 'For what am I to struggle on with God DO ' Since He withstands me in the way I trod ? ' I thougbt to serve Him who will not be served ; ' All my life's bleeding travail but deserved ' An early death — so spake the oracle. ' Though Egypt from my father's cruel rule ' Yef halts and bleeds, lies faint upon her face, ' Who am I with my yearning to embrace • My stricken brethren and to make them strong ■ \\"i h strength that doth bo sons of God belong? 'Ji Is themselves decreed the dole, 202 Mi:.\< iii:i:i:s: ' STea, degradation of the flesh and soul; 'Yen, wantonness of great men in their wrong 'And slaves to writhe as writhes the viper thong?' Then spake the priestly noble old Shanimar: ' Vain, vain, my liege, with Deity you war ! ' Do men know good from evil ? only youth 'May dream possession of sufficing truth. ' The mushroom dreaded as a baneful food ' Proves oft a wholesome nutriment and srood : ' We snatch by night some healing medicine, 1 And lo ! 'tis poison that we pour so keen ' For yon beloved sleeper ailing there, ' Or 'tis a potion fraught with virtues rare ' Mayhap for one, yet worse than impotent 'In such disease for such a temperament. 'And shall the Maker not be sovereign? ' Though men be crippled in their souls and slain, ' Few daring to affirm the bitter woe ' Wrought for their welfare whom it ground so low, ' Whose weal soe'er may sprout and germinate ' From the hot blood and tears of such a fate — ' So is it — would thy plummet dangle still, ' Or wilt thou chain the inexorable Will ? ' Sooth spake the oracle, the gods decree ' These groans of Egypt and her infamy ! ' Nay, what are good and evil ? With a man A VISION OF OLD EGYPT 203 'Did God take counsel when He framed his plan ' That we pronounce it frustrate overthrown ' When in her march calm Nature spurns our own ? ' Even as an elder things at random piled ' By hindering helping of a little child. • Wlio frustrates His design ? Some living men ' Are miserable slaves — what spirit then ' Lived in the tyrant dancing on the slave ? 'Nay, some are horn to sorrow or to rave, 1 Some to be wise or happy till the grave, ' And what beyond ? The secret cold He locks 'And all our turbulent guessing quiet mocks. ' Ours but to bow and to accept the lore ' In holy roll and in traditions hoar. ' Thothmcs beguiled thee, whose were glosses vain 1 On simple phrase and insolent disdain ' Of other reverend teachers, in the guise ' Of holy truth insinuating lies, ' Inventions of his own presumptuous wit : 'Now in Amenti hath he answered it !' ' Bootless on such a theme discourse hath grown,' Replied the King, 'it profits full to own . . . ' . . . Mu Lath God used, now leaves me in the hollow ; ■ Vain where He goes mine eyes may strain to follow ! ' The truth that I proclaimed was too sublime, 'Too pore, refined for dwellers in the slime. 20 !• MENCHERES : 'I deemed that they would cluteli the saving rope 'I lowered within the chasm wliero they grope. ' Too feeble alas ! dazed and distraught they play 'With this their only hope of life and day! 'Not worshipping my Truth, but with her dress 'Investing their old idols' nakedness. 'Not less than erst their misery I feel, ' But more a myriadfold than when to heal 'I fondly hoped; ah! vainly shall you fling 'To glut the bottomless pit of suffering ' Treasures untold of life and heart and mind, 'A myriad sage lovers of their kind! — 'Traitors administering make void my dream 'Even to mere earthly uses of my scheme — • ••••. ' Yet 'twas no Wizard's water that of eld 'These eyes farseeing with rapt gaze beheld ' Over the weary sand, far far away ' Where earth's hot waste dies into Heaven's grey — 'No mocking mirage as I dare to trust, ' But a true lake where mortal pilgrims must ' One day repose — but ever 'tis removed 'As we approach, the longed-for haven proved 'How distant still; no nearer now Ave seem ' Than when we started in the morning' beam 'Brimful of faith that we must needs attain ' The goal ere yet life's day be on the wane ! 'But now 'tis waning, still there looms around A VISION OF OLD EGYPT 205 ' The old parched waste, the solitude profound, ' Our weary caravan yet toiling through 'Intolerable sand and blinding blue, ' While ever and anon beside the track ' Some vulture shadows with a blot of black 'The pallid wilderness, revealing why ' So fleshless yon bleached human members he. 'My sun will soon be low, and every time ' He issues fresh from gates of night sublime, 'He notes one more hath fallen to the rear, 'A still white shape forgetting hope and fear! ' But I, with eyes for ever stedfastly ' Set on the far goal counting it so nigh, ' Chafed at the haltings of our caravan ' By springs that bubble, under palms that fan ; ' For such there are, oases in the waste ; ' Chidcd my fellows who would lingering taste : ' " These are impure, ye should be pressing on ! " ' But lo ! we are not near and sinks the sun ! ' My night is near, I cannot even see ' That hike which in the morning shone for me ; ' Weary and disappointed I have missed 'Soft bubbling water and soft airs that kissed; i Under cool shade of palm and tamarind ' They found their blessing — mine I cannot find ! 'Yet subtle in me were inlets of all pleasure, ' Subtler than wont, but never mine the leisure •Ji'i'. MKNV1IERES : ' For toying in my youth ; yet latterly, 'Grown doubtful more and more if ever I ' May share that triumph of posterity, ' And more and more oppressed with smothering sense 'Of my fool's prudence, baffling impotence, ' Often I muse if wisdom bid me scout ' The gods' rich gifts till they be wearied out ! ' Who dowered me with all capacity, ' And with free hand rained largesse from on high, ' While I trod sullen upon all their wealth, 'Deaf to my strong-beseeching youth and health, 'Torturing brain with unavailing thought, ' Wringing my heart with alien pangs for nought, 'Aloof from sympathy, that spirit's gold, ' Baffled, alone, and prematurely old. . . . ' Cold Shammar stern rejoinder made nor spared: ' Therefore the gods (the oracle declared) ' Even because thou hast, a mortal, dared ' To cherish lawless visions for thy kind, ' To flout the pleasant toys wherewith they blind ' Creatures to heaven-appointed misery, ' Challenging their inscrutable decree, ' Lifting a rash rebellious look on high ' To their inviolable serenity ; ' For this their lightning smites thee from above ! ' Or shall a man lay claim to more of love, A VISION OF OLD EGYPT 207 ' Justice more equal than the fateful gods ? ' For this they visit with avenging rods ! ' Then broke indio-nant answer like a flood: 1 What irks to them man's evil or his good ' If but their altars want no savoury food ' Of innocent human or dumb victims' breath ? ' For all these are insatiate of death, ' Insatiate of suffering like their priests ' Quaffing men's tears for wine at all their feasts ! ' Therefore of gods I cry that there be none, ' We startle at our proper shadows thrown ; ' For we are in the hand of sightless Fate ' That moulds with nought of consciousness our state ! ' SHAM MAR ' Rash king ! my pupil whom I trained in youth, ' Striving to leaven with venerable truth, 'Truth no invention of my feeble wit, ' But such as Heaven through us delivers it ! ' Rejoicing once I saw thee fired with zeal ' Cruel confusions of the realm to heal ' By strenuous vindication of the true ' Faith sorely hurt by Chefren and Chufu. 'Ali! still the temples moulder and the shrine ' Lies desolate, and still the people pine — • Pot all the treasure thou, king-priest profane, ' Hast dared from consecrated use distrain, 2(»S MBNCHEEBS: ' While thou dost own thy fond presumptuous creed 'Like a weak staff hath broken in thy need! 'A king, a priest — nay, frown not, I will speak 'Even if thou swift vengeance on me wreak — 'A king and priest, from thee the sacrilege! 'Thou to destroy thine order's privilege! 'Ambition tempts thy proper caste to lower: ' When didst thou brook a rivalry in power ? — ' Even for high-flown schemes benevolent, ' How to the land may happiness be lent ' When thou hast dealt us priests thine impious blow, ' Sole Heaven-elected channels of its flow ? ' Yet I and all our order cordial ' In with your aims beneficent will fall ' If but from now you promise to redress ' Wrongs of the faithful and their dire distress. ' Come ! make your peace with Heaven's incensed powers ! ' So when they see your rebel spirit cowers, ' Who knows ? the oracle may even reverse ' The doom decreed and your untimely curse.' ' Enough,' the King replied ; ' you have not hid ' Your counsel from me and I have not chid. ' But, friend, there is almighty Destiny ' Over thine oracle, the gods, and me ! ' Strong are thy gods — no more I will molest ; ' Mine now be pleasure, silken ease and rest ! ' A VISION OF OLD EGYPT 209 'Yea better,' spake the priest, 'supine to lie ' Than jour late haughty front's hostility. ' I count the slave of sense but as a beast, ' Tet venial his error if at least • With zeal he guards our mysteries Divine ' From prying question, kneeling at the shrine ' Of his forefathers, vassal of the gods, 1 Even though he rule his proper slave with rods.' Bitterly smiled the younger man, but here Some chamberlain obsequious drew near : Who bowing low announced a peasant sought His cause before the monarch might be brought This very day — ' " how else may justice come ' " Between the tax-collector of our nome "And my poor self?" Your majesty's command ' That never any barrier should stand 'To bar a prayer like this from your august ' • Nay, you are right,' he answered; 'yet I must ' To-day refuse it ; tell him that we hunt ; ' Lady Nitocre with me in the punt • Among the flags upon our royal pool ' Hunts the wildfowl.' 'But is the man a fool,' Sliammar broke forth, 'appealing to the King? ' Vi t royal leisure for so mean a thing! 'Is fliis the seemly usage now at court? ' Bid liim to our conclave anon resort.' 210 MENCIIERES : But little relished Menchcrcs the tone Nor look I luil Hit I til faintly and was gone. 'Stay,' quietly lie spoke with ire repressed, 'We do recall decision we expressed: ' Tell him to wait us at the outer gate ' Toward the sundown : there in royal state ' We shall attend as erst : if any need ' Justice among our people, let him plead ! ' Then even Shammar quailed before his look, Yet with a grieved wise air the head he shook ' You make yourself too common : men despise ' A king who dangles ever in their eyes.' ' Lord Shammar,' stern rejoined the sovereign, ' Enough : do you remember that we reign ! ' I leave your gods and all your craft to you, ' But by Ra-Amun sorely shall ye rue ' Setting at nought my sovereign decree ' Shielding the poor from your rapacity ! ' Later Nitocre, wife to Amasis The minister, with many a wile and kiss Strove to dissuade from his resolve her lover, With her ripe gorgeous beauty hanging over Him fired with her abundant mellow breast And supple shapely shoulder bare of vest; Yet nor large eyes that languished, nor superb J lead of night- locks with lissome snaky curb, A VISION OF OLD EGYPT '211 (A coil fire-eyed of seagreen emerald,) Nor splendid arms that -winding soft enthralled, Prevailed npon him to relinquish base The kingly task which called him to his place That day at least — a place how nobly filled Before alas ! the nobler man was killed In him the dreamer, little apt for strife In slow undazzling processes of life, Impatient with a march circuitous Oft turning face from where the ideal glows. IV He banquets in the alabaster hall Echoing slaves' obsequious footfall, On ivory throne contorted limbs support, From Syria pale, from Ethiopia swart; He quaffs from jewelled beaker fair of shape Sweet purple foam of Mareotic grape, Feasting on viands rare, viol and lyre, Pipe dance and song, feeding the sense with fire. Yet soon he wearies of the rich repast, (Fools' vapid laughter palls upon the taste,) Where crowned with lotus many a courtier sits, Who lives \>y letting out some flyblown wits, Buffoon they pay for sporl with dainty bits; \\ bo for some Binning banbles they may dine To feline malice prostitutes a soul, '2\'2 Ml \. BERES: To spiteful drivel and beslavering, Incense men deem must grateful to a king; Whose grovelling they suffer, yd disdain More than pet monkeys with a ribbon chain. Therefore he leaves the empty revel now, Fillet of violet about the brow : More dainty and effeminate his mien, Still fair with lingering youth behold him lean Upon some comrade of repulsive brow, Of visage lewd, coarse-built and rude and low. ' Yet lingers one sweet drop within the cup ' Of life : shall senseless deserts drink it up ' Even as tbe rest ? some youth remains to bless, ' Some relish of the sense, and comeliness. ' Long-prisoned joy may hesitate to fly, ' Yet craves brief wanton in the summer-sky ' Ere night be fallen — therefore softly pushes 'My light papyrus boat among the rushes, ' I flinging true the whirring wooden arm ' Mid wheeling wildfowl rising in alarm. ' Some blessed sense of living glows diffused ' Through muscles, nerves and organs long disused. ' Now first I learn, a fullgrown man at school 'Among young boys who well may count me fool, ' Now first I learn exulting to inhale ' Deep draughts of healthful airs that never fail A VISION OF OLD EGYPT 213 ' Lavish to flood the sunny infinite, ' Xow first my dulled sense revels in the light, ' Riding and curbing the incarnate wind ' My fleetfoot steed, with quivering spear to find ' And beard and charge the tusked bristling boar ' Roused from his moist lair by the reedy shore, ' Buffeting breasting royal-rolling Xile, ' Jubilant, scornful of the crocodile ! ' Relish is ever keener from restraint ; • And since the glow of passion smoulders faint 1 Xo more within my heart, but finds free vent, ' The illuminating blaze will ne'er be pent ' In one poor spot like any common fire ; ' Since mirrors of a vast and fierce desire ' Prove cold clear marbles of the intellect, ' While thoughts' chaste halls— how cool till now!— refit d 'Fuel and fan one terrible red flame. ' And yet .shall Reason bearded fail to tame 'Or govern rebel Passion's lawlessness? ' Inured to reigning shall she fail no less 'Than one long shut from all her right Divine? ' But if she govern, then I do but twine ■ l-'.-stoons of blossom round some massive piers 'Of one grand palace all the spirit rears. ■S:ill, dove-eyed queen, sweet Sympathy may here • Drop the gem priceless of her 3acred tear, ' Still Love retain her own most holy fear •2li- JfENCHERES: c Of hurting any whatsoe'er the greed, 'Still upon alien benefit sweet, feed; 1 Which lovely gods who cherishes at home ' Doth never wrong how far soe'er he roam, ' And though he learn by sharp experience ' The All is more than our circumference.' ' For subtleties I lack the competence : •1 blush not bluntly praising life of sense ! ' Rejoined the other, ' what inspiring wine ! ' Fervid the Sun — thy languid steps incline ' Toward yon labyrinth of trellised vine ! ' There many a gi'een nook tenderly he woo'd And won to wait upon the softer mood, Shaping themselves to bowers of delight, Entwined with odorous roses pink and white. There as they he with all their being sweet Unstrunsr, aware how in the lucid heat Silken- winged elves with aimless fleeting float, Aware that from the oar of the light boat Some drops have laden with a gemmy freight Yon oily lily leaves that scintillate Level on the water, on them listless lying Steals music, blooming to fruition, dying — And lo ! yon spaces, where the vine-leaves fringed Caught mild green fire and tenderly impinged Upon the blue laving in azure light, A VISION OF OLD EGYPT 215 Fill silently with forms of swavest white — Although no kid may wander there to bite. Lo ! they emerge but coyly from the screen, One by one gleaming on the sylvan scene. Beautiful maids and youths the vines enclose Hued like some petal of the faint blush-rose ; While amber lights luxuriously lie O'er undulations of warm ivory, Stealing at leisure into every charm ; And now they dance full many a rounded arm, With slender flexile hand aurora-tipped, On lovesick air waves like long flowers dipped In a Spring zephyr's gentle fantasy; Their rich white flesh dimpling deliciously, Or smoothing to a stainless milk-expanse, As bend voluptuous motions of the dance. Some toss the timbrel or the Castanet, Wooing young limbs to lovelier flowing yet. Waxing and waning of each tender limb, Shoulder and bosom, waist and ankle slim, Rarest of shading noteth unto sense, Notcth faint heave and tender subsidence; About their necks cascades of golden flow, Their dewy eyes melt languid as they go: And some are clothed with linen fabric fine, I. ring the fancy little to divine, Vet so enhancing all the charms thai shine 2 It) MENCHBBBS: Through as it clings into the silken skin, Or falling free with mistlike lingering From some bowed body, faint and saturate With warmth and sweetness of its happier state. Lo ! when dusk evening falls these fair green alleys Hung with soft lamps riijg through with mirthful sallies. And furious hot nameless orgies haste That he impressing days with nights may taste, Despite the gods, in overflowing measure (Doubling their poor six years) long stinted pleasure ; For after this the mummy at the feast Reminds, man ceaseth even as the beast. Then all was silent : in a chamber next I saw the monarch, and no longer vexed Angry and miserable seemed his mien ; Upon that youth now grown to man did lean The king, pale, near the dying, yet serene. ' Now help me to the embrasure — leave me so- ' Nay, lights I need not, let the afterglow ' Glimmer upon the sacred bull of gold ' That doth the body of my darling hold. ' So lies she as a blest Osirian. ' In Him divine ideal only can ' Live here or yonder a poor child of man. A VISION OF OLD EGYPT 217 1 How often through the long nights have I stayed ' Beside her mourning, pondering, and prayed ! ' With censers breathing odorous incense, ' Cinnamon, cassia, myrrh, frankincense, ' Winged talisman of Thummim on my breast ' Alive with jewels' firehearted unrest, ' Sardonyx, emerald and chrysoprase, ' And carbuncle that feeds the night with rays — 'How often from this window watched the stars, 1 Seeking what sinister conjunction mars ' My destiny ; with cabalistic sign, ' Pentacle, muttered charm, and vapours fine ' From mystic tripod, nightly summoned nigh ' Spirits to open out the mystery ! ' But I possessed a wondrous healing gift ; ' This, and half-earnest wonders wrought, uplift ' With veritable knowledge me to heights ' Of awe and worship ; from the proud delights ' Of such thou knowest how oft I loathing turned ' To where my youth's pure aspiration burned, ' Mourning above that altar overturned ! 'Xow am I free to seek thee, love, at last! ' Expand like yon burnt gums into the vast, ' T<) seek thee, and thy mother whom I loved, ' From whom my soul's affection never roved. • When by this life and others I shall learn ' Wisdom, a kinglier man I may return 'To earth — I know not — but 'tis something, friend, 218 MENCHERES: ' To look life in the face before the end, ' Praying our silent, our mysterious guide ' To tell his name, though never ho replied ' To one ; yet so at least we are not led ' Mere soulless things, clothed and amused and fed. 'And though some scheme we fondly fostered fail, ' Though ramparts of the evil we assail 'Be deaf to summons of our trumpet blast, ' Yea, though we stiff and mangled at the last ' Lie by the scarce-breached wall, 'tis not in vain ; ' No bold, no high intentions but sustain ' The sacred cause, the spirit of the host ' Whose cause is God's, and never can be lost! ' Shall we, mere infants, petulant conclude ' That our wise Father leads not home to good ' If He desert the path we count direct, ' We with true heart but fumbling intellect ? ' All creatures serve, for all must serve, the Lord; ' Rocks, winds, all living things fulfil his word. ' Shall wo, who may with free and full consent ' Of all our being follow Him, content ' Ourselves with yielding passive like the clod, ' Or frantic darting with the hook of God ' Sunk in our jaws, hither and thither, fools ! ' Spent with erratic effort, from our pools ' Doth not the mighty Angler draw us forth, ' Despite weak plaints and mad rebellious froth ? A VISION OF OLD EGYPT 219 ' The high gods offer their alternative, ' To march erect before them as they drive ' Bland and serene their high triumphal car ; ' Or ignominious as captives are, ■ ( )hamed to their chariot- wheels, he dragged in dust ' A hissing and a scorn ; for all "we must ' Enhance the royal progress of their state, ' Or moody slaves, or conquerors elate. ' For me I knew it, acted as I knew ; ' Yet have I failed and fallen as others do ! ■ My nature was a swiftly-running troop • Where if the leader but a moment droop ' Or stumble, all the blindly-rushing throng ' Trample and crush him hurrying along. ' If with me gracious Reason bore the sway ' Pertaining to her from an early day, 1 Passions and fancies of all face and hue, ■ I'ortentous multitude, were growing too, • A glory to the spirit's court, and sent ' On many a mission wise beneficent ; 1 Yet these but waited their occasion sly, ' Waited their sovereign's averted eye, ' Her wavering amid their fierce turmoil 'To pluck her from the throne and to despoil. 'Alas! ye know the rest. I fondly thought, 'Though traitor passions overbold and haught • Waxed in my very presence, I could tame "220 HENCnERES : ' Them by a word when my occasion came ; ' lint when my righteous ardours in my face ' Fate flung, and mocking blew me to my place, 'At length my joints were loosened, I grew weak, ' And let the clamorous tongues unchided speak, ' Till when at length I frowned they overbore me, ' And swarming round me stunned, the rebels tore me. ' Of doing good to man my heart despaired, ' While lulled of sense less day by day I cared ; ' And men wept on, but duller grew mine ears ; ' I shut me from the importunate sound of tears, ' Muffled in roses, drowning with guitar ' Sobs that would ruffle sweet indolence and jar. ' I failed — and may my failure prove your warning ! ' Ne'er now may dawn for me another morning : ' Yet in my failure I am comforted ' To know that not myself the legions led, ' The legions of God's children, but while I ' Defeated with my poor division lie, ' He waves the army on to victory. ' Yea, setting steadfastly my waning face ' Toward the mysterious future of the race, ' Ere mine eyes fail for ever they descry ' Far-off arisen a kinglier Man than I, 1 One with a stronger purpose and more pure, * Yfho, though the world assail him, shall endure ; A VISION OF OLD EGYPT 221 ' One with a clearer vision, wider scope, ' A faith more dauntless, a diviner hope ! . . . ' Yet ah, my child, my wife, if ye had lived ' Mayhap my loftier purpose might have thrived. ' Could one from his ideal grovelling fall ' If near him, ever beckoning recall 'By their sweet faith untroubled simple pure, ' Stood heavenly souls himself had helped mature ' Through former year's, with anxious nurturing ' On all of high and holy love may bring ? • Nay, but I thank the Gods for taking them. • What adamantine barrier may stem 'Passion's o'erswollen infernal torrent-rush 'Whelming and desolating in the crush ' Reason, love, duty, all remorselessly ? ' Such was the fate predestinate for me, ' Doomed from a child with strange and premature ' Flame of the sense nought may avail to cure ' Or quench, though smothered; many a chance-like wind ' Unaware fanning smouldering embers blind — 'Yea, bids curst hand, thy fondling tears bedewed, 'In thy true heart's dear life-blood were imbued! ' And thou, blest child, whom envious Heavens claim, 1 Might blush to-day naming thy father's name ! 'Scarce in tin. dusk I see the pyramid 2±2 MKNCHERES I 'That- you will place my senseless shape amid — 'Less than ilu> twain, you well observe it less — ' For till of late I yielded unto stress 'Of mere barbaric custom never, till 'j\Iy heart grew sick and weaiy, and my fill ' Of case and pleasure I began to take. . . . ' Only, sweet youth, I charge thee for my sake, ' See that to lower me they only take ' The hale and strong, and many, ne'er a boy. ' Even in their very deaths our kings destroy ' Many a life more worthy than their own, ' Crushed under some huge carcase-coffer of stone. ' Do you who love me and have understood ' Strive as you may to fan the spark of good ' I may have kindled ; my successor waits ' Impatient, and alas ! I fear me hates ' The righteous cause. I leave it to the fates. . . . *t>* ' Tea, verily, the truth I uttered shall ' From their long lethargy the nations call, 'At first, bke voices one who dreams may hear, ' Strange alien sense from sleep the words may wear, ' Yet in Heaven's hour, not mine, they shall put on ' No vague fool's meaning, but their very own ; ' Yea, and a fuller than myself have known ; ' Working insensibly through ages' course ' With alien agencies' calm patient force, ' Until at last dull slumbers give and break, A VISION OF OLD EGYPT 223 ' And to clear vision all the peoples wake ! ' By wrong and suffering and failure ' The dread World- Soul in darkness doth mature ' Immeasurable ends, and calm contrives, ' Tracing effacing myriad single lives ; ' The child devours absorbs the sire and thrives ' More consummate — the infinite content ' Flows a}-e with tentative experiment. ' Behold the large moon, a sun's ghost, displayed ' O'er the new palm-girt huts and dykes I made — ' Over far flats, dim hills, and cereals, ' Temples and tombs, the Nile and his canals ; 'In the elf-gleam commingling strangely lie ' Great and mean, living, dead, as in the eye ' Of all-transceuding still Eternity ! ' These the last words King Mencheres outspoke : Soon after 1 believe that I awoke. NOTE. There seems to be very good evidence that the worship of Osiris assumed the prominent position justly attributed to it by B ; : itu8 in the reign of King Mycerinus (a Greek form of Men-che-ra). I have accordingly combined this assumption with the story about Mycerinus in Herodotus. It must strike reader as strange why the oracle at Buto should be -••rn and uncompromising with a king who is described as • and benevolent, but also religious. If, however, we regard him as independent thinker and religious reformer, the mystery becomes much lighter. To tho remarkable analogy -1 I MENCHERES: A VISION OF OLD EGYPT between this myth and the Christian History I need only hero allude, lest any should cavil at that faint anticipation of Chris- tianity which 1 have ascribed to the king. This, in fact, only amounts to his Osiris creed and his I Egyptian half-belief in trans- migration. The greal Hebrew lawgiver was Learned in all the wisdom of the Kgyptians ; hut of course I have QOt ventured to ascribe here any prevision of the future approaching in clearness to that of the inspired Hebrew prophets. I will only add that I believe the mind and character here pourtrayed to be on the whole distinctively Oriental. But in various ages and countries men essentially like one another have appeared, with similar aspirations, doubts, ideas, feelings, and inward conflicts, hearing also much the same relation to the world around them. And how widely separated soever in time and space, these men have borne a more striking family resemblance to one anothor than they have borne to those around them, to their own brothers and their own cousins. Take, e.g., such men as the writer of Eeclesiastcs, Buddli, Empedocles, Giordano Bruno, Abelard, or Schelling. I doubt not there is a growth, a modifi- cation in ideas and feelings about philosophy and ethics ; nevertheless between leading minds of different times there is that remarkable family likeness: the same problems, the same conflicts do wonderfully recur; and common human vitality may easily be sacrificed to an over erudite anxiety after literal cor- rectness of outline and drapery. I do not think, however, that I have been guilty of any glaring anachronism here. The local colour is distinctively Egyptian, and old Egypt lives as vividly on the monuments as modern Egypt does around them. Between the two the difference is but slight. But the spirit in which 1 have worked lias certainly been one in accordance with the view here maintained — that mind and character of a certain type vary far less in widely separated times and places than it is common to assume. I nc d only add, that had I seen Mr. Matthew Arnold's linu poem Mycerinus before writing this, I might have hesitated to compete with so formidable a rival. 22-5 GANYMEDE Azure the heaven with rare a feathery cloud ; Azure the sea, fai'- scintillating light, Soft rich like velvet yielding to the eye ; Horizons haunted with some dreamlike sails ; A temple hypaethral open to sweet air Nigh on the height, columned with solid flame, Of flutings and acanthus-work instinct With lithe green lizards and the shadows sharp Slant barring golden floor and inner wall. A locust-tree condensing all the light ( >n glossy leaves, and flaky spilling some Sparkling among cool umbrage underneath ; There magically sobered mellow soft At unaware beholding gently laid A youth barelimbed the loveliest in the world, Gloatingly falling on his lily side, Smoothing one rounded arm and dainty hand Whereon bis head conscious and conquering All chestnut-curled rests listless and superb; Q 220 GANYMEDE Near him and leaning on the chequered bole Sits his companion gazing on him fond, A goat-herd whose rough hand on bulky knee Holds a rude hollow reeden pipe of Pan, Tanned clad with goatskin rudely-moulded huge; While yonder, browsing in the rosemary And cytisus, you hear a bearded goat, Hear a fly humming with a droning bee In yon wild thyme and in the myrtles low That breathe in every feebly-blowing air ; "Whose foamy bloom fair Ganymede anon Plucks with a royal motion and an aim Toward his comrade's tolerant fond face. Far off cicada shrills among the pine, And one may hear low tinkling where a stream Yonder in planes and willows, from the beam Of day coy hiding, runs with many a pool Where the twain bathe how often in the cool ! And so they know not of the gradual cloud That stains the zenith with a little stain, Then grows expansive, nearing one would say The happy earth — until at last a noise As of a rushing wind invades the ear, (lathering volume, and the shepherd sees, Amazed forth-peering, dusking closing all Startled and tremulous rock-roses nigh, Portentous shadow ; and before he may GANYMEDE 2'27 Rise to explore the open, like a bolt From heaven a prodigy descends at hand, Absorbing daylight ; some tremendous bird, An eagle, yet in plumage as in form And stature far transcending any bird Imperial inhabiting lone clefts And piny crags of this Idosan range. But lo ! the supernatural dread thing, Creating wind from cavernous vast vans, Xow slanting swoops toward them, hovering Over the fair boy smitten dumb Avith awe. A moment more, and how no mortal knows, The bird hath seized him, if it be a bird, And he though wildered hardly seems afraid, So lightly lovingly those eagle talons Lock the soft yielding flesh of either flank, His back so tender, thigh and shoulder pillowed How warmly whitely in the tawny down Of that imperial eagle amorous ! Whose beaked head with eyes of burning flame Nestles along the tremulous sweet heave Of his fur bosom budding with a blush, So that one arm droops pensile all aglow Over the neck immense, and hangs a hand Frail like a slid 1, pink like an apple bloom; While shadowy wings expansive waving wind Jealously hide some beauiy from the sun. q 2 2'28 GANYMEDE Poor hind ! he fancied as the pinions clanged In their ascent, he looking open-mouthed Distraught yet passive, that the boy's blue eye Sought him in soaring ; his own gaze be sure Wearied not famished feeding upon all The youth's dear charms for ever vanishing From his poor longing, hungered for in heaven- Took his last fill of delicate flushed face, And swelling leg and rose-depending foot, .Slim ankle, dimpling body rich and full. Behold ! he fades receding evermore From straining vision misting dim with tears, Gleaming aloft swanwhite into the blue Relieved upon the dusky ravisher, Deeper and deeper glutting amorous light, That cruel swallows him for evermore. 229 ON THE RHINE Ox the little plank-pier of the village, The village on banks of Rhine, With peasants brown from the tillage See a travelling youth recline. The rock with its castle facing, Vine-hills in a sunny air, The silver current chasing With image reversed and rare. But the youth loses eyes of dreaming In the heat-haze luminous Afar where the flood looks streaming From skies mysterious. Till a cloud or a smoke faint .staining, A phantom emerges dim: Though his eye grow tired with straining, J lis heart rings a happy chime 230 ON THE RHINE 'Willi the wash of the mighty water As it forks at the pier piles, And the peasants' careless laughter, And the myriad river-smiles. Now you see the deck of the steamer, The froth of her rushing wheel ; She sidling smoother and tamer Fling the uncoiling reel ! A maiden has waved him greeting As he hurries across the plank, While thirsty eyes in the meeting Draughts for a century drank. To the vineyards turn their glances And stoi'ied castle shells, To the creaming foam as it dances In the crush of the paddle swells. But their faces touch more nearly Than anything compels If two young travellers merely Study the Drachenfels. At the last I saw them standing With wringing hands locked long ; But the careless crowd at the landing To separate was strong. ON THE RHINE 231 To bear through the years asunder With a change of cares and strife, Till they only dreamily wonder Where each has roved in life. And if either came to the river In a far-off after year, And watched the sunlight quiver On water about the pier; It would seem as though two strangers Had met as lovers here, While they, mere careless rangers, Travelled with him and her. For the hour has been crowned and banished When the youth stood there intent ; And the globes of the stream have vanished Whereon his gaze was bent. So lost are thought and feeling That glimmered in boy and maid: To the old spot wistful stealing We find the Past is dead ! Our friends may be laughing or weeping Much as they used of old, Nor yet our little ones leaping Over our loveless mould. 232 ON THE RHINE And one may indeed resemble The man who was yours before, And your yearning spirit a-tremble .May feel for the friend of yore. Learn such a longing to smother : Yesterday's friends are gone ; Your friend were not more another Slept he under the stone. Still stands the pier of the village ; But never from there again That youth with men from the tillage lives to the haze shall strain. 233 A LOXG MOURNING i They tell her she has wept him long, They bid her weep no more ; They point her to the shouting throng Who welcomed her of yore. ii Two years— Tis long to weep the good, The heart which loved her best; The great deep heart which ever glowed In her full-answering breast. hi What gain to grieve ? what gain in sooth Thai Hire to face is pressed Our warm, and one dead-cold, where both W it.h life brimful caressed ? 234 A LONG MOURNING IV And Echo breathes: AVhat gain, what gain To call the silent dead — To call athwart the wind and rain That sweep their lonely bed ? Had Shylock taken that living flesh Close on the heart decreed, How vain that breast all quivering fresh To ask : What gain to bleed ? VI We bid her idly, meaning well, Be glad again as we : Her sun is down as theirs who dwell Far, far, beyond the sea ! VII Erect she walked in all her ways Ere nightfall stayed her foot ; Scarce may she thrid the dance's maze Whose music all is mute. VIII Or must she wear that lying smile Which chafes the wounded heart? ! let the stricken deer awhile Dwell, as she craves, apart ! A LOXG MOURNING 23-5 IX A woman she — I well believe You wealthy ones and high May deem a wife most weak to grieve If a mere husband die. x If lives the greed you loved in him, Though that brave heart be cold, Weak sterile tears may only dim Charms hourly growing old. XI The young, the generous, the wise, Sleeps dark for evermore ; Pale shivering trees where he low lies Wild wind and rain sweep o'er. XII Sweep you more callous o'er the mute, And ogling drawl 'we prove ' Our faith resigned ' — Your breaths pollute A genuine Avoman's love ! XIII She weeps with them, mean company! Who own a human heart. No more — their Father bring them nigh Their sleepers, ne'er to pari ! 1863. 236 IN A HALF-DARKENED ROOM I STOOD ' In a half-darkened room I stood One autumn afternoon ; The dying day in desolate mood Wept on with weary moan. I looked toward a shadowed bed Where thou in fevered sleep Didst labouring breathe : a nameless dread Made me in silence weep. I saw the cheerless day's decline And then I looked on thee: Thy life, the very source of mine, Seemed ebbing slow from me ! Ah ! childhood's pure and happy hours ! The tales you used to tell F the deep pine-wood, my hand in yours ; And hers who died as well : The kneeling at your knee to pray, The playing in your smile ; Sweet guidance of a later day ; h seems a little while ' IX A HALF- DARKENED EOOM I STOOD ' 2o7 Ago we three, close linked in love, From all the world withdrawn, I' the cottage near a chestnut grove Watched Alpine eve and morn. memories, I cannot bear Your wistful faces, go ! Baffled my flagging wings of prayer In such a storm of woe. • ••••. Yet Love took pity : slowly sank The mantling tide of death From thy dear lips : His love I thank Which ever broadeneth Before mine eyes, though they be dim ! Thy gentle life from now Pilled slow once more toward the brim To bless where'er its flow — Now this thine own sweet natal day Once more in peace we spend : Be calm as this their long array ; With birth to Heaven the end ! 238 A NEW LIGHT There is a low rude lichened wall that folds A humble graveyard on a lowly hill ; Within there grows a solitary ash, Amid whose delicate foliage myriad throats Flood stainless blue with thronging notes of joy ; Whence elfin forms dip swift and shimmering With wing's-rim spirting sunshine off in spray, Air- skimmed their tremulous music from the mouth. What trilling cheeping twittering in the tree ! How do they gossip fresh from over- sea, With childlike breaks exuberant of glee, Their strange experience in alien lands And of the long long journey o'er the brine ! While underneath, the speargrass lush and tail Upon each vivid blade lets flaky light Slide glinting, kindling beryl atmosphere In bowers below, where gamesome shadows play With mingling daisy kingcup and sweet clover. A NEW LIGHT 239 Here drones the bee with pollen- golden limb, Haze-blue the landscape vague expands afar, Where silver river shines from bosoming wood. Here, dappled o'er of tender floating shadow, Under the tree a boy was wont to He Three summers gone and commune with the soul. The gentle soft-eyed spirit of the spot. "When last he came he wept into her lap ' Serene you'll smile, my playmate, when I go ! ' He, frail and spiritual, communed oft With echoes hollow from these vanished lives Among their grassy mounds and tottering stones. 'Ah! yet,' he cried, this frail wan poet-boy, ' Id Live my own full proper life and die, ' I'd press deep in some flowerbells of the world, ' In to their dim soft-folded mystic heart ' Where lurk some clear rich honeydrops for man ! ' I would add somewhat to the hived store, ' O'er human hearts all silent cold to me ' I would float free my thistledowns of thought 1 To germinate chance-wafted where they fall, 'And quicken those barren tracts my soul o'er- yearns ' To joy with purple- blossomed sympathy. ' Yetk, I would press into the heart of things, ' Thence into human hearts, to be a power 'Therein to quicken, to soothe, to elevate, 2 U» A NEW LIGIIT ' To thrill with joy of what I see and feel. ' Alone some little love and sympathy ' I crave from them, some warmth from fire I feed, ' Some smiling back in rainbow hues to me, ' Some tender breath of thanks from seeds I sow ! 'For if I find it not, ah! woo is me; ' Must I not deem the wing-germs of my soul ' A mere dead dnst, mine embers all aglow ' With heat and light mere simulated fire ! ' Clasp but my hand, great brotherhood, in yours, ' And hail me one, though weak, yet one of you ! ' Assure my steps with calm supernal eyes ' You who have won the goal — ' None answer me ! ' For ye have scaled the height with yearlong toil ' Of hand and foot, and lying proudly there ' Too much in sooth it were that I should hope ' Help from you, patient conquerors, whom few ' Helped in your progress calm indomitable ! ' Sweet is the flavour of the fruit of toil, ' When we have won it may we not enjoy ? ' So hearkening to the still small inner voice '" Thou art a poet," full of confidence ' I bend my gaze upon the Heaven-kissed height, ' Mounting alone — until the body faint — ' I shall be higher, life will not be lost. . . . A NEW LIGHT 241 ' All ! jet how soon life falters to the close, ' And none may hear the feeble note I sing ' Mellowing hourly to entrance the world, ' Spare me awhile, sweet death, and come again, ' For now no token of me may remain, ' No undulation where the water gulfed, ' About my day's mild flash and faint report ' No lingering wraithlike mist among the wood, ' And no unquiet niurniur in the rock ! ' No muttered thunder from far realms of death ' Daring the shadowy mountains to forget ' The march of storm that smote and blinded them ! ' Nay, why not be forgotten like the rest, ' As these are round me ? unto God I yield ' Myself, my being — mother, so is best, ' And home I turn to fade upon thy breast 'Where blindly first I felt my way to life! ' Now he is dead — go seek him where he lay Four springs ago — there is not any change ; Birds yet are shaking mazy song abroad ; As then the cberry and the applebloom. Heave silent rosed white foam athwart the blue, And sleek leaves flutter over violet pools In woods as then — ah ! not those very birds, Nor bloom those very blossoms, leaves and flowers ! Some change I ween the very place may show; B — 1 -2 A NEW LIGHT Yon furf freahmounded where he Loved to lie — Nay, but he lies there — only will not move With day fall homeward as he used of yore, But lie through moonrise and unhasting stars ; No more she waits him near the cottage door As in thai snnimer gone, but near the wheel She sits, a wintrier snow upon her head, And a light faded from her revei*end face. And while he lies, all vainly mellow lights With shadows move 'eye-music' o'er his breast, A flowersoft breast of yore how sensitive ! Vain do the birds with tireless melody Visit an ear more apt to thrill of yore Than any sporecell tipping elfin moss Upon some breezy hill- top — all in vain ! He sleeps and may not waken any more. ii Yet look ! behold ! What splendid cavalcade Draws nigh this lowly garden of the dead ? ( 1 rave men and reverend, liveried at least In garbs imposing, with official air, With pomp of gold-knobbed staff, trombone and drum, Bland carrying lavish laurel coronets And incense shut in silver thuribles. It seems that one, some friend who haunts the grave, A NEW LIGHT 248 Hath asked ' What seek you ? ' ' 'Tis the poet boy ' We seek,' they answer ; ' to fulfil we come ' His aspiration, clasp his hand in ours, ' Hail him as one of us, with grand calm eyes ' Look courage into his, to chaunt his praise ' And fill his nostrils with our incense, Fame ! ' The friend replies : ' It is a little late, ' Methinks, for this, wise mentors of young thought. ' Whose Solomon awards leave ne'er appeal ! ' A carcase, O illustrious brotherhood, ' Claim for your fellow, clasp this clammy hand, ' Look courage in these blank lacklustre eyes, ' And titillate yon stiff dead cartilage ' With fumes of fame ! Death's ear is somewhat dull, ' And look you this — this body might I fear ' Repay with scarce polite indifference ' Your fashionably tardy patronage ! 'Lo ! the World-Soul with. birdsong, breath of flower, ' And summer light, may waken not his child ; ' Will shawms and resin and your fetid breath ' (Though these be larger loss a myriadfold) ' Think you be more persuasive to arouse ? — ' Yet in his life I never heard him crave ' Applause from you, nor kith nor kin of yours, 'Learned censors of the way wild roses blow! 'Who when we deem you nodding in assent 'Mayhap are only nodding in your sleep — chance to want Borne "new light" 1 suppose, it 2 -\ \ A NEW LIGHT ' May one be found not vulgarly alive, ' Coarsely in need of you, and eveu as ye, L Mere grimy feeding man — no footing yield ' To such ! the dead are crowned with haloes vague, 1 And draw the graceful the luxurious tear. ' Tis generous — and cheap— to praise the dead, 1 Who press no claim — so living seer die ! ' We pride us on the sepulchres we build Tor merit, torturing long-suffering stone. ' The seer, fool ! would rather men should hear, ' Even if his clothes be coarse or grosser faults ' Of erring men be his, than wait the chance ' Of flattering lies above his callous dust ! ' Tell, world-worn Dante ! wert not thou consoled ' In far Ravenna, in thy foreign grave, ' When Florence piled thee yonder incubus ' In Santa Croce for a cenotaph ? 1 Yourselves have failed, shall other folk succeed ? ' At least with thorns shall bristle all their road, ' And they shall climb, if climb they must, in blood ! ' Well, friends, we challenge your alternative ; 1 For climb in face of all of you we will ! 'But ye intend to keep our letters pure — ' Yea, as the worm benevolent intends ' When fretting in deep seas an oyster-shell ' To fill the wound with slow-secreted pearl ! A NEW LIGHT 245 • Nay, pearls are of the oyster, not the worm. 'What in the grand economy of God ' Exceeds the generation of a child ? ' Yet shall we praise the lecher for his lust ? ' Xay everything hath function of his own. ' Expect a gnat to settle, not to sting ! ' Clutch bold your nettle, scotch your venomed snake, ' But only fools adjure them not to hurt.' They only smiled a hard superior scorn, Puffed at their hautboys, clattered on their drums, While some began to swing the smoke abroad. If yet he lived, he lived, methought, with God, And well methought the quiet green spot he loved Shrined his young body : so I held my cars And turned away — these gentlemen I knew Had private business of their own to do. Poor boy ! may one indeed akin to thee, Seasoned more stern for battle and for toil, Raise where thou liest a cross for memory! And there enshrined in Death's ice-atmosphere May thy fair head enwreathed with deathless flowers Never decay, but grace the special peak Thy delicate subtle genius hath scaled! iMf. AN ANGEL'S GIFT A little boy with clustered curl And soft wide eyes of ocean blue Was kneeling where the misty swirl Of one sunbeam came silent through The shadow of a curtain'd room On cradled sister newly come. Was kneeling by the tiny bed, And gazing on the tiny child Asleep with hand above her head, And whispered, ' Down the beam so mild, ' Baby, did the angel move ' Folding thee with arms of love ? ' Tearful left thee with us here, ' Lingered long the heavenward wings, 'Poised upon the shining air, ' Warmth of angel-folding clings ' Still O sister babe to thee ' Lapt in such serenity ! an angel's gift 247 ' Feeling jet those living tlirills ' Of the stainless angel breast, ' "When thine infant spirit fills ' "With the rapture, unrepressed ' Lo ! thy face it overflows ' In a smile mysterious.' Came the father while the boy Thoughts like these was whispering, Gazed upon the common joy, Felt ' from far my babe must bring ' Calm that seems profound as death, ' Yet is of life that openeth. ' I cannot deem, such peace akin ' To any after peace of ours : ' Yet is it only that within • The spirit sleeps with folded powers '? ' A pilgrim sleeping in the vale dreams of dizzy climbs assail. ' But each new height the spirit gains 'A fiercer storm of trouble daunts. ' Beyond the region of the rains 'And virgin snows the condor haunts, ■ Par o'er the currents of our air 'la there a sphere serene and rare? AN ANGEL'S GIFT 'We dream, we hope, we trust that those 'Who with perplexed yet sunward face, ' With wavering steps and tortuous, ' Still brave the mist shall find the place. ' Then Love's rich spices shall embalm ' This fair void shell of baby calm. ' We know not what and whence we are, 'Nor how this human spirit grows; ' But should thy steps in years afar ' E'er turn where she and I repose, ' The grass of our twin graves will move 'And whisper, "They were led by Love!"' Then came the mother :. ' Look, my boy, ' Your angel comes who brought the child,' The father said ; she brimmed with joy Spake, ' Jesus too was baby mild ; ' My yearnings dying accents are ' That fall from His undying care.' 249 HEAVENLY GUEST i Swathed for awhile in -weeds of earth Xear you she sits with folded wings; Will you not know her till she flings Them starry wide to leave your hearth ? — II To leave it lonely dark and cold? — Too late imploring hands are spread ; Could you not see before she fled Light trembling out through every fold, in Exhaling subtle when she smiled Or stirred or spake? 0, gross and Mind, Through common things a common mind sec no glory breathing mild. 250 hk.\vi:m.y guest IV That shy primrose so dear to God A worldling's warped and jaded sense Calls dull insipid innocence ; Wilt thou too be the callous clod ? v Ah ! had you recognised her birth While yonder sat your meek-eyed dove, Or moved on humble tasks of love, Or touched to life your slumbering worth ! VI Ourselves to conquer and to merge In this the school of love we learn ; And helping her these bonds to spurn She lifts us up to heaven's verge. VII Bestride the rocket as it flares Through solitudes of startled night ! Yet know yon bird of humble flight In yonder cage who modest bears vnr His suit of brown and trills alone His low sweet song through dreary days Is kin to him who breasts the rays, Bursts all in music, melts in song. HEAVENLY GUEST 251 IX Oft folds his head beneath the wing, Unvoiced his joy, yet sweet the rest, His blithe bird-heart in peace possest ; So love secure may cease to sing x Awhile, then if brief twilights grow, Let fall life's shadows, fools may cry 'How dwindles love's felicity!' Love smiles who feels his heart aglow. XI They shiver, muffled up in furs. Their blood but crawls, for ever cold ; If, as they croak, love turns to mould, Life now at least our being stirs. xir These have not lived; but woodland fern That nods in dropping diamonds By some cascade — those tender fronds Form trees where long blue summers burn. 252 CONSOLATION i Men prate of iron will in vain, When the flesh gives with spirit strain The colder nature, stronger frame, Strong character but idly claim. n Now Reason reels upon her throne, Dense dread about his spirit grown, Who dares not breathe for fear to stir Yon Horror slumbering close to her ! in Madness, more awful-faced than all ! What may he do but shuddering fall Upon the cold floor, praying Death To save him and to take his breath ? CONSOLATION 253 IV He feels that lie lias failed, lias failed ! He hears it in the snow-storm wailed Through this dim loveless chamber now : List those numb finger-taps of snow ! v Death, pale dread friend, already here ? Ah me ! for youth 'tis very drear, With nestlings eager for the sky, To be torn earthward ruthlessly ! VI Not one warm heart to pillow on — Fold wings that would have sought the sun ; Ic only rests for thee to weep, Thyself, a tired child, to sleep. \!l Is there no Father, one Divine ? Ah ! vainly doth his ear incline To shape thought's ansAvcring muffled roll Through dim vast labyrinths of soul. VIII There may be the essential Love, In whom both he and all must move, Or hut a blind relentless arm, That moulds and breaks with equal calm. 25 1 CONSOLATION IX A still small voice, than thought more clear, Thought's echo lost, he yet may hear: ' In faith of Love Supreme there can ' Alone be formed a perfect man.' x Not on the mount withdrawn He stood To sing that storm and calm are good, But walked Himself the whelming wave, By love to smoothc, by love to save ! *r ' I am the Son of God,' He saith : Then grows the deep amen of Faith, Who solemn chaunts, ' Yea, God is love, ' In whom we shall victorious prove !' XII He cannot hear — the storm is loud And blinds him with a snowy shroud — On those lone heights with catching breath He flounders o'er the steep of deal li ' XIII Yet till the last frail fibre of strength Hath snapped, hold on — help speeds at length ! Yea, even in falling, arms outspread To take chill darkness of the dead, CONSOLATION 255 XIV A hand may grasp, a bosom receive, And warm thine own faint heart to live ; Embracing Death may change to one Who pours life's own elixir down ! XV Then ere the dying, if thou bind True mate to thee, thy heart shall find A simple girl excels thy dream, As fruit its like in troubled stream. XVI Then when some dark mood passes by, How sweet upon that breast to be, And feel the tremulous twilight swim Of limpid eye sad love may brim ! XVII Some guileless maid may wait for thee, My brother, though thou canst not see! Yet even if thy life must droop Ere ripening of thy fondest hope, XVI 1 1 'Tis in the arms of Love thy fall : Faith shakes her head serene at all Her subtle sophist-questioners, Ami childlike 'so it is' avers. 250 DEAR BEAD, LIE CALM Dear head, lie calm upon my arm, Dear eyes, from mine drink mildest splendour ! So rills may leap aerial steep, Blue flowers they fall on mantling tender. Eyelash so frail, inlay with trail Of shade her eyes, a maze of sweetness ! My soul sinks through their dimlit blue, To find in them her own completeness. Eyelash, O light on petal white Of lid shed soft your delicate shading ! Lid silken-fringed and only tinged With vein's rathe violet faint pervading. Lo ! now she lies with folded eyes, Basking at rest in mine adoring ; To prison the sense, so more intense, She veils my glance's ardent pouring. DEAR HEAD, LIE CALM 257 In watering flowers we stay the showers Awhile, till these to roots be divingr ; Behold ! she drinks my gaze that sinks Till each sonl-fibre thrills new-livins'. '-• Dear head, he calm upon my arm, Dear guileless face all childlike beaming, Ah ! soft hair's fold kindling to gold, Is not this more than all the dreaming ? 258 'LEAVE GOD'S OWN RANKS DRAWN UP TO FIGHT' i Leave God's own ranks drawn up to fight, And strike a hand in proffered palm Of some fair foe to seek the calm, To lit; with her in fields of light. II Yet hark ! Hell's gathering legion-tramp ! And if no crush of iron hoof Through heart and brain you feel, 'tis proof Death's numbness doth your spirit cramp ! in Forego the battle, and forego The kingly strength of spirit won, The smile Divine when all is done _■ hi-, of being man may know! 'LEAVE GOD'S OWN RANKS DRAWN IP TO FIGHT' IV Yet warrior camped at close of day May list the lapse of some pure strea That lingers in the soft moonbeam. Gliding unheeded in the fray. 260 TO A WATERLILY WATERLILY, Rendering stilly A meek confession, Sweet indiscretion, In star-petals of heavenly white Rayed forth from hidden gold of thy delight ! Candours revealing virgin gold of heart That mellows linked snow of wings, apart Where lowly tips Dim glory lips While vestal-reverent they half imirn The shrine where holily thy flame doth burn : Charming soft air, Enthralling waters fair From wonted flowing strenuous intense, Lingering soothed for thy dear confidence ! Silvcrly gleaming tenderly they wind ; Tremulous all thy lily tale we find, Pure tender tale thy soft white petals tell, filasscd in their kindling bosom where it fell. TO A WATERLILT 26 L Faint airs inhume Thy frail perfume ! Over thy green leaves, each a filmy boat, Rimmed with mild light of water where they float, Petals ray forth unruffled, pure from shame, Inviolable thy virgin fame, The soul of thee a heavenly flame, Breathing stilly, O waterlily ! BEFORE RAITAKLLK landscape, faint with mellow daj tranquil faces, shrined in tranquil light. Thai Perugin, Angelico, beheld, Wi'l. air as listing far unearthly strains, With eyes of yearning to the infinite, features lighted from serener skies ! poring on you seem to gather wings, Even as with stress of slowly mantling tide A boal sways buoyant bedded yet in sand. Sour presence music-like doth round me flow, Ye seem most like a silent blow 1 _-c I -flowers that enwreathe; Surely I feel your feathers breathe Thrilling about me in their sweep, ., lift me as clear waters deep When girdling round soft limbs their heave Lifts grazing feet from sandy weave, are while oar chins we lave ■:\ upon .some azure wave. ender ravished may we float away BEFORE EAFFAEELE Where zephyr-like with gentle lover's breath from brows hot with earth's anxi< May blow the hair and lure the burning out, May soar inhaling deep nepenthe- draugbl From all embroilments of a world of woe, May lose ourselves unbodied saturate In palpitating mazes of the day ! v,i WHAT THE OLD CHURCH SAID I MOVED a little where the church- tower rose Above a close-grown belt of beech and firs, And the tall pointed windows of the tower, With slant flat bars of wood that broke the light Through-shining from the facing windows, looked Like the old church's melancholy eyes. But as I mused, with slow deep-booming tone The clock tolled one, and the sound died away. I I seemed as though the old church gave utterance In that slow melancholy dying toll To some oppression smothering the soul. I weary of the years, (it seemed to say,) The long slow years ; I would that they might cease, Or that I might withdraw me from their eyes ! Am I nut wearied with so many suns That rise to set, and with their lavish light, Crimson and orange; with so many moons, Crescent and full and waning, haunting pale My lichened mullions where the ivy stirs And rustles in the night-breeze, and the owl WHAT THE OLD CHURCH SAID 265 With feathery face and large white open eyes Sits hooting — with the clear-obscnre of nights "Wherein the stars mount over me and go ? Beautiful ! but the beauty palls upon me, Ever the same, and I am very old : I care not though the swallows dart and wheel About my steeple, feeding on the wing Their young exultant youth-wise in the air, Which age, and fly thwart seas and rear their brood Next summer, and forget their nurturing sires ; I care not though the flowers about my feet, Over my graves, bud, open unaware, Then loosening yield their petals to the grass, And other youngling blossoms blush and blow In the rich mould of parent-flowers' decay Summer on summer ; while the silent clouds Grow in the blue, change fleetly and are gone : I care not for their change and vanishing; For these, all these fulfil themselves and die : But for the glorious human things I care, For all the faces through the centuries I have seen lighted with a light beyond The light of youth and health, a spirit-light Of aspiration for eternity! For all such faces waning one by one ; .Many for disappointment and for duubt Before the last, bnt all extinguished now, First one and then another through the years WHAT THE 0] D cm i.vn SAID Darkened, befouled, effaced in damps of death; Of this I weary, and for this make moan. For all tiny came as little infants here Opening dazed eyes upon the wonder- world, Brought oi their parents to the christening font And dedicated to the Father in Christ; Came as blithe children chafing at long prayers; Came as paired lovers, with unutterable Love in their cms, and vowing faithfulness Till death before the crowd, but in their hearts Vowing strong love for ever and for ever ! And I was glad and pealed a merry peal Of laughter from my bells triumphantly Up the blue sky, and the blue answered me With sunshine and with bird-song, and young maids Strewed flowers before the bride who wept for joy. Some came again cold, alienated, dull, With all the glory-flush died out of them And a fool's jeering at their nobler selves ; A few were faithful to their solemn vow Before the crowd, and till death parted them Loved on — and then they came again to me, One carried on the shoulders of six men, Dull, cold as clay, not to be looked upon ; The other with despair in poor vague eyes, Swathed in black crape, to leave her in the vault With generations of illustrious dead. Under my feet hoc. I was sorrowful WHAT THE OLD CHURCH SAID 267 And tolled niy melancholy toll for grief. After a few sad years lie swore the same To another bride all bnoyant like the first With hope and trust and joy, until he sank, He of the scant grey hairs and dimming eyes And failing spirit — and she buried him. So they He side by side, his wives and he ; With all the generations I have seen Born, married, buried, over whom fair tombs Are carven in marble down my solemn aisles. So they He side by side, his wives and he, With no heart-burnings : never lip seeks Hp There in the darkness, never hand seeks hand, There are no smiles — nor any weeping there. Yet where, ah where, the sweet vows they have vowed ? Unheeding in the coffin lies the corpse. Where that ebulhent love that brooked no bounds. ! ity unconquerable like the dawn, Chariot of fire that lifts a man to heaven ! Where is it now ? Alas ! I only hear The ghostwind rushing moaning round my tower, Strewing my worn stone winding- stairs with sticks And straws from jackdaw nests high up my spirt There the great clock, my heart, beats awfully Willi throb monotonous: anon it seems The solemn heart of Fate; or measured tivad Of Time, the cold relentless skeleton, 268 WHAT IH1 OLD OHUBOH SAID Awfully blind, informed with ne'er a soul, Nay, with no dawning hope of any soul; Soul that, how stony pitiless soe'er, Knowing the deeds would falter and repent, Nor might endure for ever to behold Unmoved his own monotonous dull stamp Moment by moment crushing out some bloom Of life fresh wistful nestling to his feet ! . . . I only know the solemn chaunted prayer, And psalm of praise men come to sing below, Wanders in snatches faintly up my tower, There to be pounced upon of maniac winds, Caught and devoured, and scattered all abroad ! Unheeding in the coffin lies the corpse. 'Tis all I know; and yet the children play, The merry human children o'er the graves, About their parents' headstones mouldering, Like fairy boats upon green-mounded waves : I hear their laughter on the sunny air, For they know not, and woe is me, I know ! And so I weary of the slow sad years — Would they might cease, or I withdraw from them, Sink to a ruinous heap and be no more ! 269 'AS A TALE THAT IS TOLD ' i In flowers at morn a girl and boy, While o'er them Spring's young leaflets toy, Sleep locked in arms of mutual joy. ii They babbled near the babbling brook, While ringdoves coo'd from greenest nook, Till sleep soft shadows o'er them shook. in At hand shy rabbits nibbling sit, And close the speckled thrush hath lit, While o'er their limbs gemmed insects flit. r. Where vivid-raptured foliage gloats In swim of soaring day that iloats ll<.\v tender! yon forget-me-nots 270 'AS A TALE THAT IS TOLD ' V Are dimmed, it seems, with mist-like trail ; Some chilling Presence makes to pale The woodland growth where'er it sail! VI Where each on each the children lean Some fingers pitiless unseen Their twining hands apart would wean. VII It creeps the loving sleepers o'er ; They stir, they w r ake ; nor as of yore In eyes of each to dote and pore. \ u j They look abroad to earth and sky, Till other human forms are nigh ; Then each to one of these will fly. IX So close they fold in alien arms, The farewell scarce their accent wan They pass so rapt in alien charms ! x Note such a new-made fondest pair. And list how deep they both can swear That nought shall part them foul or fair! 'as a tale that is told' 271 XI But look upon the shadowed mound One sinks and sinks in deadly swound ; He chafes her, kneeling on the ground. XII With anguish in his widened eye, 1 She shall not — he'll not let her — die ! ' She cannot hear his frenzied cry. XII] Again the boy is laid in sleep, Nigh where his chosen slumbers deep For evermore — and near him creep XIV Those mist-like trailing garments chill ; ■ Lethe dews from them distil, cool the forehead where they feel r xv He wakes with half the trouble flown ; SMm one who views him thus alone oling arms hath round him thrown. XVI Eail! Time'-; mysterious healing art, soothe i e 'I- adly-rankling smart Ami piece many ;i I H ! 272 'AS A TALE HIM' [S TOLD ' \\ II Each counts to find one curve of all Full answering liis proper cull, Yet echoing with sublimer fall. \\ in But in long years' close intercourse, Ignoble chance will U<>\v perforce Trim coverings from hidden sores. XIX And lo ! disgust — they meet so cold, Scarce their bewildered memories hold Remembrance of the straining fold ! xx While hark ! Time's ghostly laughter rings— 'To what I snatch man frantic clings, 'Yet o'er his new toy laughs and sings. xxr ' And boasts, " 'tis wise and well to bow, ' The past inevitable now ; ' True beats my heart, though smooth my brow." XXII ' Poor fool, it flatters thee to prate ; 'In May the bird will find new mate: 'Disdain not thou thy kindred's fate.' 'as a tale that is told' 273 XXIII And yet to me 'tis like disgrace That one we think our soul's embrace Should vanish thence and leave no trace. XXIV What then is human love ? Our best, Our strong abiding power confest ; Yet that seems mortal like the rest ! XXV Xav ! Time, we are not wholly thine ; The blind-born man will not repine, But he who once knew Summer-shine. XXVI brute more meek thy shackle wears: Man chafes against the prison bars, ili.s pale face yearning to the stars! . . . xxvu Then sudden through the woodland rose A wail of wind uproarious; The huddling foliage pales and bows. Nxvm For choked with surging wrath, disdain. That Phantom strove <■> fashion plain The crushing sound, -in vain, in vain!' i 27 !• • \s \ pale that is TOLD ' wix So, when beneath some belfry-bells One musing hears the organ swells, A people's prayer the pauses tills. \\\ But oft the wind's harsh- clamouring gust Drowns all, as if the dead men's dust Down those appealing mouths were thrust ! XXXI Nay, if with doled power yet weak, Even lower things will heavenward break, Shall we whose conscious spirits seek \xxir With, mightier stress a myriad-fold To burst the fretting dykes that hold In parent ocean to be rolled, XXXIII Shall we alone all vainly strive Ourselves may more supremely live, That nobler love in us may thrive ? xxxiv Nay then, aver yon feeble rills May wear their slow course down the hills, when with these the torrent fills, 'AS A TALE THAT IS TOLD' 2T-' XXXV The torrent shall not surge awa)-, Leap, whelming all the rocks with spray, To still its longing in the sea ! 27C» 'TO WHOM SHALL WE GO?' PRELUDE To note while lingering nigh some ivied porch A fond old couple tottering to church Aruong the grassy graves, with snowy hair, Holding soft hands of children fresh and fair, And muse we once were confident as they, Who sad forebode the staff new chosen may Break when we lean full in the perilous way ! To list float faintly through the open door On summer airs the music that of yore They loved and sung, father and mother dear, On wings of humble hymns from care and fear Rapt far into God's home of crystal clear — To muse we pure and trustful children then Snared by their side afar from mortal ken, Such homely strains to chariots of fire Changed by the breath of faith and strong desire, (Alas ! the glow has faded from them quite: They than yon bee's drone in Ids flowery flii 'to whom shall we go?' 277 Have now scarce more of meaning nnto thee, Save for a savour of sweet memory And reverence for human hearts that cry !) — To gaze by some worn father's shadowy bed On boyhood's darling friend an hour dead, To stand there with a mother blind for tears, Xor breathe the hope that she when vision clears Shall see so clear, yearning to tell her now And help to melt from her some sorrow- snow, Yet only clasp her, for thou dost not know. . . . . . . May this be nought ... or very hopeless woe ? Dark was the night : the great cathedral square Lay desert, wind and rain swept everywhere, Vacant of men the ancient terrace trees Gloomed sullen o'er where swollen the river flees Far down: between some phantom piers at hand That bound the portico wherein I stand Rain ever drips and beats with bounding flash In stony pools hollowed of myriad plash, Gleams in sick gleam from huddling dwellings mean Thai "ii the nighi in ghastly squalor lean With gabled roofs that dusk projecting grow, < >Vr each a lowering frowning beetlebrow. While from the lanea and filthy courts there ring Cries, yells anon that leave me Bhivering 278 ' CO whom SB \l.l. \\ E GO ?' Eowe'er from distance dulled, for here the poor Eerd, litter, agonize and still endure. Then unaware stalked awful facing me The hoar World-Sorrow and blank mystery! 1 hid my face and, turning to the door. Pushed strong the ponderous quilting hung before, And gained the sanctuary: how the Lighl Breathed bland and warm unconscious of the night ! A suave, a fragranl luminous blue air Pervades and dims the solemn regions there: From calm aspiring of majestic pier That turns and mingles with its neighbour near In flexile spandril lost in holy gloom Of high clerestory and triforium, To yon bowed sea of suppliants that How Kxpansive down long nave and aisle below About grey arches fluent refluent, Even to the jewelled high altar eminent With golden chalice, triptych, crucifix. With spangled image and flamy candlesticks. l^elow stiff gold of vestment and brocade On clustered priest, fair acolytes arrayed In lace and linen thuribles are swinging, Whence curl soft indolent blue odours wingh And all their Bubtle breath doth permeate, Fusing to one mild splendour all the state: A constellation rich unto the core, 'to whom shall we go?' 27'.* Yet unobtruding all tlie radiant store, Somnolent as of homage fall secure. Only when priests in murmuring bend low The slumbrous glory wakes to flash and flow : from von white throats of the boyish choir Sails music, seraph plumed with hallowed fire, Saileth and soareth, flooding all the soul, Heralding the tempestuous organ-roll Of sound insurgent whirling men aloft, Hither and thither rapt, or cradled soft In tender curling side-eddies like leaves ie headlong torrent-flood no longer grieves ! I .til behold the priest on marble stairs Of the high altar in two hands upbears The sacred elements, and prostrate all As by one breath from God we bow and fall, One multitude adoring; since 'tis here Yon outer Mystery of guilt and fear Anil suffering, who fcreadeth year by year The same slow wheel whose rungs are living fire, Worm of a never-dying dumb desire, Prom everlasting inextinguishable, To everlasting a devouring hell, ne may resolve — Here only we the dark enigma solve. That ;r secret of our destiny IV md \\ i -■ -Mn-lii with bitter crj 280 'to whom shall we go ? ' From the beginning, unavailing quest, To innocent babes bequeathing their unrest. But now al Length behold from eyes Divine Response triumphant on the ages shine! I kneeled and worshipped, feeding on the Wonder That ordinates the wild turmoil from under. Yet as the stormful organ over us Pealed surging through the fabric tremulous, Betwixt unrolling banners of full sound At intervals I seemed with awe profound To know some mightier Tempest travelling round ; It grides with rush of wheeling pinion Caught struggling in the tower's fretted stone, That quakes to front such Visitant alone ; Sniffs like some famished thing that prowls anigh Wandering round and round with hungry eye ; Anon with such a maniac fury-shock Charging, the minster seems to reel and rock For all its amplitude of stately calm — Yet is it more than momentary qualm ? For lo ! the wind aloft with desolate wail Dies, as for aye the ponred-out heart must fail! Nay but the frenzy only smoulders, burns, Flans forth anew; for hark! the foe returns, Shrieking to some who follow, a mad guide To thunder-legions trampling far and wide Filling all heaven ; now precipitate ' TO WHOM SHALL WE GO ? ' 281 Flinging them crashing like some stroke of Fate Full on the hoary venerable church ; Until methought the marble seemed to lurch And swim beneath my feet ; the arches heaved Even as limber trees by tempest grieved : Blindingly flashed a pallid-purple light, And smote each countenance to ghastly white, Bleaching all gold and silver, while the flame Of lamp and altar-candle dwindle tame, As though by Day surprised they paled for shame ! Then swift a pang of insecurity Shot through my frame sharp, uncontrollably, Howbeit all grew firm again and still, Nor uny soul but mine foreboded ill. Did they not feel the very basement quake Under their feet, nor all the minster shake I shudder as with ague, that so calm They list the music and inhale the balm ? I may not pause for all the ominous terror Of outer night's inclemency, and error That may be doom of mine unwitting whither One seeking shelter may repair from hither : Once more the ponderous portal-quilt 1 push, And forth intu the ni'dit-einliroihncnt rush. - Blown by the whirlwind, lushed of driving rain, Groping through solid darkness I sustain 282 ' To W MUM SHAM, \VH CO ? ' Hardly my troubled and desponding heart That feels her youth's full-trusted cable part, With wildered swerving foot thai hopes no goal Yet from her swound anon awakes my soul, < 'raving some shelter. n Soon from forth the dark E] icrges to my vision gaunt and stark A pale bleared structure with a Cyclops eye Pent dull-lit in its narrowing forehead nigh. Then something urged that I should enter here: Mean was the aspect of the place and drear; Large glazed square windows, yawning chasms of black, Slit either dismal wall, guarding the track Of either rigid passage through the pews, Tall varnished pens that swallow men and bruise. At intervals lank poles of iron prop Green painted shelved broad galleries that drop, Teeming with sober- vestured folk and trim, Smug, irongrcy, respectable and grim. Flat whitewashed is the ceiling, and depend Burners that flare with flame from end to end: While from a pulpit roomy prominent, Thereto the chapel's place of honour lent, One in black raiment to a docile crowd ' TO WHOM SHALL WE GO ? ' 283 With accents blandly confident and loud Expounds the riddle of the universe, Complacent doth the seamless robe traverse Woven in logic-looms, unwrinkling dress Warrant to fit a Titan's nakedness : Shameless unwieldy Nature dons a vest, Smirks primly decent in a Sunday-best. No venerable superstition here, But all inferred coherently and clear ; And we admired our teacher dexterous, Shuffling his words, expert, ingenious. Yet unaware some door wide open flew, And a wet wind unmannerly rushed through, Sorely the staid folk discomposing, ruffling — And lo ! within the yawning chasm a scuffling, An uproar more unseemly, smote the ear, if one pushed and fought to enter here. A grimed and ragged man with eyes to fear. And wolfish lean lank famine-pinched face, Obtrude his squalor on the holy place, And holy washed respectable smug folk! Such monstrous portent may in sooth provoke Yon pompous beadle, visaged like an ox, Clad in gold lace, full-feeding, orthodox — Since the low creature insolently braved Eis ban official, snatched the thing it craved — Such wrath, in sooth, well-founded maj we think, 284 ' to wnoM shall we go ? ' If the mean wretch were choleric with drink ! List now some dead sound of a massy blow, Ami dull tlmd of a body fallen below Two stone steps on the street ! Oppression cold, Some choking sense, of many a breath takes hold ; A feeble scream ; much smelling salts ; the door Has slammed and closed securely as before. Swallowing wrath, the preacher quietly Resumes : ' Beloved, we might have been as he ; Is not grace special, sovereign, and free ? ' Problem of life ! how theologic wit Can feel all round, beneath, the roots of it, Dig up the mystery so cleanly laid In a glib formula as in a spade ! And while I listened erst with night shut out, Rain, wind and storm, and all the rabble rout Of human things to-night familiar, I could believe life's gordian tangles are A mere child's puzzle to the fingers deft Of faith, and needing nowise to be cleft. Rut what if that unmentionable look Of vague grey horror which the Darkness took By yon cathedral in a lull of storm, Confronting me, a ghastly-visaged form, Should follow even when one turns to fly, Blighting the soul with search of deadly eye, Not skulking baffled there beyond the porch, ' TO WHOM SHALL WE GO ? ' 285 But staring livid into very church ! What if the monster coiled immense and far, Enwinding all yet spied by ne'er a star, Torpid, piled o'er with gloom, voluminous, All unaware slide noiseless up to us Out of the slumbrous folds a hideous head, Hooded, flat, slimy, eyed with baleful red ! Sand-forts inviolate hoar babes Ave pile — While the tide lingers — for a little while ! Even before the shock of ghastly fight 'Twixt famished sin and sleek fullfeeding right, Here on the threshhold of the pauper's Brother, On His the self-exiled from heaven, no other ! u before, while eloquent he spake, Making all plain, the teacher, would awake Peeping a moment in my soul the doubt If such sure axioms court the laying-out Beside yon truths of gold by Reason won From their dark stubborn matrix one by one ? Now Conscience outraged round to Reason wheeled, Struck palm in hers, and her full triumph sealed : Once more I shuddering fell the pavement lurch, Once more abrupt I hurried from the church . . . Out into rain, and wind, and gloom again — Behold! a gaunt fierce woman did sustain Upon her lap the bead of him who fell There on the lower step, in staunching well 286 ■ ro whom shall we go ? ' The blood upon his forehead with her dress, Muttering thick curses on the righteousness Her graceless drunken paramour that smote. And lo ! their spurned, skeleton child remote Stood in its rags to jeer the parents old, Scalding the hag more blasphemous to scold. Look! by yon bleared gaslamp nigh at hand Xight shameless disemboguing where I stand Her reeking ducts of human misery, Despair, and sin — beholding which I flee! m Unwitting whither, even as erewhile : But the dream bore me over many a mile This bout I trow — foundations must remain, Though every superstructure ill sustain Assaults of Time ; stable, sublime, arranged Of eld by seers, but in change unchanged, And therefore perishable, doomed to fall, Though many a weakling cling to each for all ! Unto what goal arrived? 'Tis evening now, Not night — no storm — and surely I should know The place ! Yon hills that rear themselves afar, Only more solid ashen sky they are In circumfused grey vapours that involve, Yet cannot whole-absorbing them dissolve; Their lifted crests, dim heads of skeleton, ' TO WHOM SHALL WE GO ? ' 287 Over yon leaden lake, more pale that wan Immerses their faint feet, filmy arid dull, Remote and sad, like Death impenetrable ! Wide leagues of stern brown barren region ni°\her Mere cinders of an old world's dwindled fire ; Cinereous ragged crags, ravines that wind Amid their umber shadow silent, blind, Xor thereout ever to the open find Their way again : but nearer than the brown Tract with wan sulphur tinct around is grown Thin rusty wheat in patches, a hot breeze O'erwhispcrs fitfully; some olive-trees Stunted and cavernous shiver, wax pale To feel it passing, breathing a low wail, On either side the stony arid path, Which on the left of one descending hath A glen that widens till one may desciy a full-foliaged, fig and mulberry. All in the twilight massed ambiguous — Skirting the bill-side steep and devious. While twilight deepens I behold beneath Par in the glen, nested as in a wreatb , some village of rough stoi i level roofs; one special house upgrown On culminating ground into a tower. And lo ! anear it now a.i gloaming hour Forth gleams one ligbi of mildly-bodied ; 288 'to whom shall we go?' Alone, as lit to beacon one who came Along the path habitually at close Of day to seek in that sweet home repose. Intense the solitary stillness here, Hot and oppressive weighs the atmosphere, And all my spirit prostrate sinks opprest With futile lifelong effort after rest. Then I cried, Jesus, dost not Thou remain, Even if all men's worship of Thee wane ? Thee, Thee, we need — Jesus, come again ! And then the spot, the region where I stood, A very reflex of my desolate mood, Seemed half-familiar — surely I should know : Did I not stand here not so long ago ? It dawns, it breaks, familiar verily ! For this should be the path to Bethany! Why then, ah why ! tell, spirit of my dream, Here lead me ? not in mockery I deem — ■ Here may I list what He the Master saith, Here by the source primeval of our faith, Sweet desert spring bubbling among the stones, Purer than after girdling human thrones ! Nay but, I cried, Ave need thy presence now, Thy kingly gaze, and thine imperial brow. ' TO WHOM SHALL WE GO ? ' 289 How manv a lonsr league onward have we travelled, In what a labyrinth of thorns enravelled With halting foot we wander — that yet Thou wert beside us ! do we not forget, Through all yon hazy distance of the years, A world new-found of alien hopes and fears, Wellnigh forget the features of thy face, Thy gait, thine accent, yearning to retrace Vainly thine image fading in our soul, That flickers, wavers, and evades control ? We halt with knowledge all unboded then, Fevered explorers, much-adventuring men, Now on some hill foreseeing through a glass Far flowering futures where we hope to pass, Now floundering in deadliest morass, Haunted with lurking flames of tiger-eyes, Probing dusk hearts of loneUest mysteries. Full oft we hesitate opprest with doubt, iging to fling our burdens, wearied out, Forever from us, for the way is long, About our feet confounding shadows throng, Neither discern we plainly any more To what far goal Ave tend, nor off wliat shore Erewhile we drifted, or at whose command, Or if before us lieth any land. Lost, wildered, orphaned in thia new-found world, Wl at relish in its glories morn-impearled D J'. 1 " 'to whom shall we go?' Of fruit and blade and (lower about us tost, To us who bad a Father, and hare lost! We had a leader once, and he is gone. Do we not stand in bitter need of one ? Arise, be gracious unto this our day — Once more desert Thy heavens and point the way ! Look all along dim regions overpast Since that dear morn wben Thou Avert with us last, Name them by name, assure us where we are, Where lies our journey, to what goal afar. Yea, tell us also, whisper in our ear Of Him whom deep in silence we revere ! Ever He lives we know from age to age, Mover and moved in mortal pilgrimage ; Yet our wings fail us that would fain aspire Neath that blank face of our eternal Sire, Kver more baffling wistful human eyes With each new lore man's mortal life supplies : Ever we learn He is not what He seemed ; Need now one teach us what He may be deemed. Thou didst reveal Him to the world of old ; Are we not also hungering to be told What Name would haunt thy burning lips if Thou Could come again to dwell among us now ? Gentle and strong and faithful, just and wise ; Such an one set among confusing cries TO WHOM SHALL WE GO ? ' 291 And aims of ours — who with our own flesh fio-ht. Each taking each for foeman in the night ! Return, Saviour, garbed as men use to-day ! All guileless hearts must worship aud obey ; Though worldly men yet harden into stone Reviling souls more human than then' own ! Keep us the while, keep us sensitive To those who most reflect Thee while we live ! "Who cower as one might in a prison flung Stunned of harsh wrangling in a stranger tongue, Yet roused to rapture if some casement swine Opening a way to airs of odorous wing, Airs, happy elfins wandering at will O'er sunny meadows taking all their fill Of flowery pleasance ; front far fields they come Dewing dim eyes with memories of home — — Though worldlings turn a dull impassive face O'er such sweet glimpses of a heavenlier place. . . . Miglri I le come back, come only for an hi What were the wealth of all the worlds for dower WYighed with it? for the secret of some powiT Over our baser nature should He give, Thai slowly coffins men while yet they live, hi, affections, aspirations high Tranced rigid, reft of strength to move or cry ! To Him tin- ghastliest boding one might bare, Nor fear repression of some witless stare, 292 ' TO WHOM SHALL WE GO ? ' Or any harsh frown of intolerance; Yea one might court the lightning of His glance In deep liklden chambers where no countenance Of human foe nor human friend hath pried ; Through He would know us, know us far and wide, Scorning nor rose nor livid poison flowers Nature prolific on her children showers! And ah ! how oft when none are by we groan, for one person mingling with our own ! Ye named us friends ! are soul and body one ? Or did ye name in cynical sarcasm ? For have we bridged the ever- sundering chasm "Twixt man and man, who leaning e'er so much Never, howe'er they strain, with hearts may touch? Yet He were not unkind or alien-souled, From shy warm wistful touches shrinking cold Like common friends when heart yearns forth to heart, Longing to tear all sundering swathes apart — One warm hour wanton to men's longing lends Semblance of pale life and as wanton ends ; But He, methinks, He were the Friend of friends ! Might He not bless this ailing age with health Languishing faint with surfeit of her wealth, Toiling to hoard and of repletion dying, Her vital juice unfunctioned for supplying To every organ, member, of her frame ' TO WHOM SHALL WE GO ? ' 293 Due nourishment each one froni food may claim ? Yea, we are rich, and yet the people die Of all their human nature's atrophy ! Starved hearts and brains and limbs but toil and moil One pampered organ of the frame to spoil. Might He not solve this problem of the poor Who litter, agonise, and still endure ? Vain ! ah, what multitudes through all the years Have strewn and burdened with such hopes and fears Meek little-heeding earth, with human tears Made humid these dumb stones as I have done, Since Thou, Master, earnest here alone Weeping divinest woes were ever known! Mary and Martha long their village sweet Forgets, and where, ah ! where, Thy sacred feet ? Would they come back, come only for an hour, What were the wealth of all the worlds for dower Weighed with it ? . . . . . . Then I slowly was aware Of one approaching as I halted there. Near and more near some calm firm footsteps came; And while I listened strangely all my frame Oxer* villi expectation, tingling through Willi some blesi awe of wonder, while in view 294 'to whom shall we go?' That pilgrim rose upon the winding path, And paused five paces from me where it hath An olive leaning- over ; yet the night Would suffer none to read the features right. His raiment grave, so far as I might see, The garb of common men appeared to be, As natives of the land are wont to use — I only felt my spirit could not choose But know, and spring to meet Him, as the lark, Of Dawn soft wakened, from the dewy dark Inevitably springs into her breast ! I could but falter to His knees for rest, Bury my face and loose all hold of thought, With such absorbing bliss of wonder fraught His presence ! feeling flooded all my soul, And from mine eyes in sweet warm weeping stole. In kneeling I could only feel, not see, The calm of some eternal eyes on me, Yea and I think some hands upon my head Peace passing understanding o'er me shed — Yet I remember as I knelt I heard When far and faint upon the hill there stirred A night air melancholy washing through Tree after tree in travelling till it blew Hot on my neck, and wrung the olive nigh With shuddering, and wandered with a sigh Of inarticulate want along the glen — ' TO WHOM SHALL WL GO ? ' 295 And as my glance fell on the raiment then, A ghostly gleam of light lay on the brown Stuff woven of goat's hair, upon tuft and stone Of bank and path. Then sudden to the face I looked in ecstasy — some shades efface, In part from olive-foliage — yet why So pallid, rigid, dim, that longing I Can shape no image of the countenance ? But while with some vague terror now my glance I rivet, ever to more fading change The face I hungered for appears to range: Until once more I fancy I can feel The ghastly shiver and the drunken reel Of earth alas ! I well must recognise ! At which to frenzy stung my spirit cries — And though He seems to melt from out my grasp. My death-dewed hands with fierce despairing clasp And clutch his skirt — 'ah! perish all save Thee,' Broke forth my soul, ',but Jesus ! stay with me : Thee, Thee to hold though all the worlds be gone ! ' And yet my forehead smote the senseless stone As I fell forward, plucking empty air . . . Iluwbeit some kind accents found me there: i i-ist is arisen ; seek not the living here! : r will not leave you, I will come to you. 1 He that will do the will of God shall know ! ' 296 PAN Ah ! Nature, would that I before I pass Might thrill with joy of thy communion One childlife only knowing thee from far ! Love we may well, for surely one were nought Without the other, intermarrying breath ; Nature the systole, thought the diastole Of one Divine forever-beating Heart. Feeding from her maternal breast we grow Full to our height of stately dominance, And yet create, yea dower as we grow Her with all colour, form and comeliness. Nature the heaving of a tender breast Revealing inspiration from within, Sweet rending of a calyx, telling clear Expansion of the spirit's folded flower, Nature the lake where looking long we fall With our own likeness tremulous in love. Surely the blind bliss buoying up a lark Floating in sunlight over nests in May, PAN 297 Bliss of mere living, amorous ecstasy, Undulates echo from a lover's heart That palpitates above a maiden won ! Simple the bird-bliss, but the human flushed With solemn lights from two immensities Of Past and Future, from the battle-field Where joy was wrested a rich spoil from pain, From vistas of the eagle-visioned soul That widen aye to far infinity, Whence comes the sisters Joy and Sorrow meet Oft by the same mysterious fount of tears. Ah ! must the bird-bliss, full irradiate As any dewdrop thrilling in the morn, Waver, exhale like dew, or like a seed Orbed fair before it moulders in the dark Moist earth to formless mystery of growth, Falter at filming of a far-off cloud, Peel unaware a trouble in the spring Of young serene unhazed limpidity ; Change fully fed through channels of long years, Emerge profound experience of Man, Fruition dusk of sorrow and of sin? Wait only till the dew returns in rain, Wail only till the formless germ shall flower, Wail only till the stream becomes bhi Wail only till humanity fulfils The cycle of a destiny sublime, 298 pah Entering bliss more mellow and more large, Yet like the bird's full flawless and serene! — All mortal happiness a reflex faint From hidden rainbow far transcending ours. . . Last culminating unaware decline Must we toward the drear aphelion, Once more expansive ? hath the Universe Infinite systems, each one with his own Orbit of growth, his fringe of dulse and shells, High- water and low- water line for each ? What if our spirits and our bodies here But re-emerge ever transmigrated Through everlasting from the Ineffable ? May they not still be with us after all, Heroes and seers unto whom we yearn O'er yon far sundering ocean of wan years ? Renewing ever an immortal youth — Straitened, amazed, and weary in the rush Unresting of the Universal Life, Sloughing old personality, anon Among the living with a more or less, But ever fosterchildren of the time ? Yet unaware we light upon a stray So lonely, weird, unfellowed among men, So startling with resemblance to the world Of tribes uncouth, outlandish and remote, pan 299 Or those we marvelling hold commune with All indistinct through fading portraiture Of art or creeds outworn, faint chronicles ; Grim pleasantry of nature it appears To keep this old world denizen till now Alone bewildered in an alien age ! Or hath he slept some strange enchanted sleep While generations fleeted slowly by ? Behold ! how wan and withered the fresh page Of Life he read in when he sank to rest Now he resumes ! above his shoulder look ! In sooth I know how many pages on world we are ! Yet something it may chance We have let slip of what may profit still ! . . . Come then lift high the choral hymn of praise That ever grows from rolling world and sea, From angel, fiend, and hesitating man, Who only with bewildered air sustains That ever-pealing anthem unto One Whose Form is the all-glorious Universe, In ever-shifting accent, symbol, word, K'verent, loving, wondering, with awe, Humbly elate that in us for awhile Hi- drigns to lighten into consciousness, That in the Son of Man Love full-beheld Hi- face, and lo! it was the face of ('•<»l You blessed innocent living animals, :)i)0 PAN Through whom yon mountain self-involved in gloom, And yon far fathomless unresting sea, Sounding the whole harmonic scale of things, Pass ever in slow travail up to man, Have I not loved you, conscious brotherhood, Ah! how much more than cold unlovely men Dead callous all to man's prerogative, Shut in some frigid blank fool's privilege Of state or wealth and trampling fellow fools ! These have I loved not; rather mellow birds Upon the bough and sheeny creeping things Among green grass, red squirrels in the beech, Such have I loved, some faithful-hearted hound Shaggy, brown-eyed, that pants with lolling tongue, Fair antlered deer of my ancestral glades, All these companions chosen have I loved, All these with what men foolish libellous (For all is life) have named inanimate — Cohesion, chemical affinities, These but the earliest grey gleam of Love Dawning in light, air, water, rock or stone, And in faint fringes of organic life Already blossoming through rain how-rise Of sweet desire to spiritual love ! O wondrous interchange of services, Honours and functions in the universe ! Disdainful isolation in a world PAN 301 Where nought may be sufficing to itself, And where the noblest may the least suffice ! Wherefore wise lovers count not anything In all the worlds for common or unclean. The meanest reptile, if it only be, By only being proves a right to be, A use that failing the machinery Of all the worlds had fallen out of gear. Thou fated slayer, slay not like a beast, In a blind panic, but remembering. Look steadily till through the loathly crust A soul puts forth a feeler seeking thine ! Creatures uncouth, yet these are on their way, Blind and still distant from the goal you touch, Yet fellow pilgrims verily with you; Dare you affirm there live not anywhere, Nor in the teeming infinite dark womb Of awful Nature ever shall be born, Beings of glory so transcending yours As ye transcend some annulated worm ? Nay day by day the lower forms are lost, Yield all their own and re-emerge in man : And so the coral of our myriad lives Accumulates tin,' sunny reef to be — While yet in part, a soothing dream to inc. We may remingle whh the lowlier life. . . blood that boils restless rebellious! ;;o-2 I UN O passionate desiring and despair ! Say shall ye lapse anon to whence ye came, Subside once more into the lovelier life Of aimless airs unfettered and serene, Of buoyant seas that sparkle; under them, Of unrepining cool meek- blooded flowers Fair quiet fragrant, into laughing grass Dishevelled and deflowered of warm wind ? Life faint of heart, pale, halting, insincere! Divine aspiring like an ermine robe Fretted to dust with moths of every day ! Sink, sink, swell of vain-aspiring wave Into your trough of earlier lowlihead, Pass to some innocent elfin of sleek fur, His nest the ripe wheat and his wine the dew ! And shall we climb, ascension infinite, Fi'om star to star ? explore from world to world- Gods reigning yonder in the tranquil stars ? Death ! what is Death ? a turning-point of Life Winding so sharp the way dips out of sight, Seeming to end, yet winding on for ever Through teeming glories of the Infinite. Look with bold eves nnqnailing in the face Of that foul haunting phantom, it will fade, Melt to the face of some familiar friend. . . . One selfsame Spirit breathing evermore Rouses in each the momentary wave, One water and one motion and one wind, pan 303 Now feeble undulation nryriadfold, Now headlong mountain thunder-clothed and crowned With foamy lightning ; such we name Zerduscht, Dante, Spinoza, or Napoleon — The motion travels, and the wave subsides. . . May cold ascetic hard, ill-favoured, crude Ever persuade me vision and fond play Of sense about fair fleshly loveliness Of youth in man or woman is accurst — Since God hath made the spirit, but a fiend Hath mocked it with a syren phantom-flesh ? — . to mine ear 'tis rankest blasphemy ! is not flesh the shadow of the soul, Her younger sister, both alike Divine ? Yea verily ! for when I love a friend How may I sunder body from the soul ? Pew win my love, but they who win it seem Ever well-favoured to me, and I greet All comeliness of colour and of form, Mere side reverse of spiritual grace. Yea, limbs well turned and bodies almond-smooth Full fair and white in maiden or in youth, With what scnsi -ihrillings may attend on these ; All lusty might of supple athletic nun; worthy reverence like flowers, Or like the Culminating heart and bouI. ( )nl li one yield his very own j Yield to you] ' liis toy of fantasy. J'.lU PAN And never frown nntil lie glides to steal The royal sceptre from Intelligence, Or crown of light from spiritual Love. Nor dare to maim lives infinite Divine Seeking to graft one pale monotonous flower ; Vov is not Being thirsting to exhaust His all exhaustless capability? Evil mere vantage-ground for an advance, If not for fchee, yet for the universe, And so for thee as member of the whole. But well may Nature's innocent wantoning Be loved of men : she whispers of the nest Whence we have flown, she lisps our language low, A sweet child-mimic, she is very fair, Hiding coy secrets from her lovers all Who will abide and listen at her heart ; Yea she will sorrow with your sorrow, sing, Dance, leap for gladness if your mood be gay, Flout ne'er nor lightly fling away your love, Or lure to whelm in labyrinths of woe. Her gentle breath, her breath is very sweet, Breath of lush vegetation in the dew Of a warm summer evening heavy faint With slumbrous prodigal unbosoming Of secret odours, deUcate and shy ! If quiet lying heart to heart with her Lost in the tranquil limpid of her eyes, pan 305 Will she not lull us -with a lullaby Soft marvellous, with spell beyond belief To soothe one worn with conflict and with paiu, Sweet as a revelation from a star, Sweet as a melody from elfin land Woven from breath of grasses and frail flowers And airs low tinkling tiny twinkling bells, Will she not whisper of a lovelier life, Beautiful, tnie, spontaneous and calm, Guileless and gentle, bountiful and free ? IN MKMOIUAM THACKERAY This morn while roving o'er the wonted page How many an eye arrested on it grew Terribly fascinate, and breaths were held A moment for dismay to read the words Messengers of calamity to all ! How little looked for scaring us there stands This morning early haunting every hearth The pale and mournful phantom of thy loss ! Never again the noble rugged head And silver locks my privilege to see . . . Great human artist, lover of the true, Deep skilled to feel the solemn pulse of man Xow beating grandly full, now fluttering faint ! Great satirist who with uncpiailing front Dealt stern tremendous blows on laurelled lies And baseness panoplied in golden mail Imperial-purpled, swarmed about with slaves ! These named him ' cynic ' that with ruthless hand IX MEMORIAM THACKERAY I", From them, stage-kings who thought to pass for true, He tore false trapping, stripped each puny thing, And mocked mere blatant mouthing of a mime ! But manhood brave and kindly and sincere, And tender womanhood a meek sweet flower, He drew from 'neath the trampling feet of the Proclaiming very ministers of Heaven In a corrupted world . . . Kind humourist Opening oft a healthful mellow laugh Of laughter for the innocent and young ! Now at this time, the wintry Christmas time, Must he 1 id his wonted place with us r Weep ! — not unmindful of the birth of Love ' is 1363. 108 OX THE MOUNTAIN LENGEK a moment, for a moment only, Here on the height ! Ere our sad feet must feel yon shadows lonely Sinking to night. In sooth I know it was hut yesterday You heard me chide Your calm unhasting progress in the way, life, my guide ! An hour agone how fondly I aspired To crown the crest Of manly years where beautiful untired Our elders rest — Nay seem to rest, for slowly they decline And leave the brow : Region of glamour at the last made mine ! "Where are they now ? I view them, I behold them, winding low : Here it is day, And all along the mountain from below; But there away OX THE MOUNTAIN 309 Falls their dim going ever in the shade : Only awhile Linger, behold with morning in the glade My home sweet smile Warm in the vines ! fair home, a hopeful child I sped from you, And since, how many a tearful barren wild Too well I know ! Yet smooth and rugged, beautiful and foul, Look fair from here, Softened in mellowing memories of the soul Made pure from fear. I never dreamed of passing from the splendour, Crowned once withal, Who chid thy slowness when my years were tender. Yet now I fall Prone at thy feet, O friend mysterious ! Praying to rest : Even if I knew them yonder waiting us, Fair faces pressed Of human lovers whom I longed to rouse, Fold to my breast ; Yea if I knew yon music in the glooming Of future years irely welcome of sweet souls ilium With Light of tears My feet confused, with grateful tears my feet; Yea if I knew, 810 OS -l ill" MOUNTAIN Still would I trammel all thy steps too fleet, Feeling they flew. For even it' yonder may bo human glory, Acclaims that roll, Eere, oven here, there beams upon my story An aureole, A heavenly purple, auroral light of youth Reblooming never — Bui there at most a sombre fire in sooili Fading for ever ! What though for me may mellow sustenance Of fruits hang low, Crimson or golden in the way's advance, Amber may flow, Autumn may smoulder ripe and gorgeous In clouds and leaves ; Fresh morning never as the pilgrim goes From now relieves ; But all in shadowland he wavereth Out of the sun, Till in yon gloom of lowland stilly Death, Dull-eyed and dun, I I ; at his feet for feeding with his breath Oblivion ! Nay I repine not since upon the air, Even while I go, Clear floats a treble of young children fair Who climb below. OX THE MOUNTAIN 311 Nay, I repine not, for I lift mine eyes To heights afar Tranquil abiding lovely in the skies, Homes of the star. Yea, in a vision I can see them moving, Children of God, Dear human creatures clear from ourreproving, Nigh His abode. Though fleeting our frail syllable of story, God will rehearse Fresh like the sea, grown never old and hoary, His universe ! 312 GARIBALDI : GARIBALDI: AN ODE &va£ avSpQp. Shout ! a king of men is here ! Hurrali ! A long-descended monarch proud, "With right divine to hold men bowed ? Methinks we've seen such gods before, And heard imbruted myriads roar Acclaim to one with murdering sword A lust of power hath foully gored, Or marked some thin official cheer Mid passers lowering through their fear- Not such a king of men is here ! AX ODE 313 II Shout ! a king of men is here ! Hurrah ! No militaiy pageant flares, Nor cannon booms, nor trumpet blares, But only mighty London pours Her fire of life that chafes and roars, Licks up the roofs with giant glee And bursts at every window free ! Kerchiefs of women, banners wave, As this king's mission were to save Not kill ; so run their mottoes brave ! in Shout ! a king of men is here ! Hurrah ! The people crowd his chariot way, To grasp his hand they surge and sway; From each full heart the welcome cries, Each soul leaps forth from beaming eyes ; What hero so can stir us all ? This man at least hath saved from thrall Our England ! Nay, behold tbe man, Yon lionlike Italian, Whose calm pure smile our welcomes Tan ' 31 I GARIBALDI: IY Shout! a king of men is here ! Hurrah ! A king indeed of spirits this, More like the kings in yonder bliss Beyond the blue, like those we trust Men shall own kings when we are dust. In some far golden age of time, When the old gods lie trailed in slime ; We labouring up the darkened stream Behold in yonder orient gleam One sail, a guide to morning's beam ! Shout ! a king of men is here ! Hurrah ! Behold ! this nature's flint and sand Were fused in fire by Love's command All to one diamond, for so He and Mazzini seem to glow : Such loving men, monarchs alone Of alien spirits and their own : Behold him from the tyrant rive A crown, yet only take to give ! Tis royal Love's prerogative. A> T ODE 315 VI Shout ! a king of men is here ! Hurrah ! Our baubles, crowns and titles, gold, Seem to the man of such a mould As the wild Indian's o-lorv does, The war-paint and the scalp, to us : His glory lies in doing good, His crown men's hearts, each one imbued Wiih that same sense of one for all, He compasseth them grand withal, So would he have men feel his thrall ! VII Shout ! a king of men is here ! Hurrah ! you who, if the incarnate God Came now, would fix with sapient nod Your microscopic intellect, And mince, 'A pimple we detect;' • if yon roshed to clasp his feet Like the rude mob so indiscreet. Rich fames your nostrils fall inhale Prom your sv. • Lves mighl chance to (ail, The rush would make them hindward trail! 316 GARIBALDI: VIII Shout ! a king of men is here ! Hurrah ! Where nobles vie to honour him Whom God made noblest man of them, So honouring our lordly class, I hear two loungers as they pass, Some dandy man and woman, sneer ' Turn not your back, the king is here ! ' If he had kept the crown he took, How meek that toy would make them look ! Mere naked worth they cannot brook. IX Shout ! a king of men is here ! Hurrah ! Hoar institutions mouldering stand Of yore for service wisely planned. Persian nor Greek nor Arab spilt Stupendous fanes by Pharaoh built ; Only when earthemake shook the crust Bowed those ' eternal ' piles in dust : Through desert courts the jackal bays, The moon o'er unknown symbol strays ; So now the people new power essays. AN ODE 31 7 Shout ! a king of men is here ! Hurrah ! Old thrones and creeds begin to sway- As the young giant feels for day. Kine Philistines have bound his wrist, Delilah Superstition kissed His mouth as in her lap he slept, But crave for light and air hath crept About his smothered lethargy ; He stirs, he stretches, fetters fly : Free stalks he, pigmies cowering by ! XI Shout ! a king of men is here ! Hurrah ! Rome bleeding, panting, moment-free Turned not in vain wild eyes to thee — Lo ! she with Venice turns them yet! Even now perchance thou mightst have set Another flaming diadem On him thy countrymen esteem Had no I his soldiers Bhol thee down In act from strife to hold thine own — Gap gemless in that monarch's crown. IABIBALDI: XII Shout! a king of men is hci-c ! Hurrah ! King even at Aspromonte, hail ! We see thee wounded, worn and pale, With saddened son] jei tranquil eye Gaze where rich-vestured mountains lie Clear-glassed in Spezzia's lakelike sea, Thy bonds deep shame to Italy: On prophet vision thy spirit throve — A world calm as yon seas through love — Drowned Shelley's spirit here must move ! XIII We see thee in thine island home, Caprera ringed with whispering foam, Set in Mediterranean blue ; Thy goats i' the wild thyme browsing chew Thy thoughts go wandering dreamily Round all the strange sad past and nigh Yon lowland cursed where faint from i Thy noble Anita sank for aye: Yet there unborn great souls shall pray ! AN ODE 319 XIV Shout ! a king of men is here ! Hurrah ! Now down the traffic-teeming river A course of molten gold doth quiver 'Neath Westminster's vast-moulded arch, While o'er it moves thy triumph march. In far nooks formless shadows cower, In evening chrysolite yon tower Mounts o'er the stately palace-pile Where a free people calm laws compile — We lack thy selflessness sublime, Yet tremble, tyrants crowned with crime ! Our hearts with those who strain to climb Hail ! herald of the dawning time ! Hail! the new world's exuberant prin 1864 $20 PALMYRA Listless and weary silently we crouch Under the sun's intolerahle face, For ever forward heaving dreamily, Each on his camel with a noiseless foot, Swift, sure, and silent like the feet of Time, And nose protruding level on the air : Our brilliant-hued and flowing-vested guards Drowsily bowing to the camel-stride, Our shadows blotted sharp upon the sand, And ne'er a sound but in the barrel slung, A gurgling as of wells among the palms ! Anon the imperial tyrant unaware Declines from empire of the blinding skies. Some tall mysterious tomb-towers that seemed To mock us with the promise of their shade Through the long day now stand upon their height- Ghostlike and near, until as in a dream We pass the portals of them, and we solve That ashen-grey enigma of the hills. TALMYIU Then bursts upon our breathless souls a sight Such as they say shall openiug overwhelm The waking vision of the sous of God, Emergent from the pilgrimage of life. Behold ! amid the illimitable waste Abides a city glorious with gold Of arch triumphal, leaguelong colonnade, Palace and fane with pediment and frieze, While dominating, mighty like a mountain, Mounts from their midst the Temple of the Sim, Eternal based upon stupendous blocks Poised there by genii, slaves of Solomon. See yonder, palms — ah ! grateful gush of gr< And cool mild flash of water soothing Cowering from such severity of light ! Ere full the vision enraptured we behold, Lo ! we are sweeping swiftly to the plain Nigh the enchanted city. Do I wake, Or weave some glowing fabric in a dream? I only know the weariness hath passed, With all oppression on the fevered frame, All thirst and hunger: I could deem me borne Out of ' ', and mingled with the world! Why do J wreep? we wander in and out I pringing arches cored with fire, By many a votive column, over fret Y ■ VJ.1 PALMYBA Fantastic fine of broken tracery, Loves, fruit, and flowers glowing underfoot. A silvery serpent-coil is in the eyes Of yon stone fragment of a hero's head ! Sealike about me sets the wilderness To realms nntravelled; saving where Ave came; For there the mountains purple rich with eve, While many a pillar sunders them with gold, A mouldering castle of the Saracens Crowning them, dark athwart the heavenlv fire. Anon among the rains calls the wind Whirling the desert in wild revelry, Crumbled beneath fierce sums of centuries To sand, and sifted of the searching blast, Mounding it pale about the ways and walls Where once Zenobia, queen of all the East, Flushed and elate with empire and with youth Drove in her chariot, girt with flaming swords And dark adoring faces of her lovers, hing another morning from her eyes, Borne as on wings of music royally ! How long before she looked from yonder he' Her mournful last upon the shattered gk Of her sweet kingdom with a clouded eye, Or proudly turned, a captive yet a queen, Away for ever with Aurelian ? Now the fair city is a skeleton Whose shell but serves to tesselatc blue air. PALMYRA Now the fair ways once resonant with life, Vibrant with pulses of world-history, Feel only stealthy feet of the lean wolf Or prowling fox ; save where our Bedawy Rush galloping with wild barbaric yell Poising the quivered lance in mimic charge, Wheeling and spurning dust, mayhap of men, To cloud about them — spirits of the blast ! Incarnate winds as lawless and as wild ! Dim limbless Chaos here with Anarchy And Desolation holds high carnival, Welters carousing, laughing loud and long In maniac triumph of reconquering His ancient lair where once the God of life Brooded to quicken formless elements Into a throbbing heart of all mankind! Dread exultation of primaeval Powers In all-cxlmnstlcss fountain of your youth ! Dread celebration of your victory, 1 your eternal birthday, in the place Where ye abode before King Solomon, And darkling played about the feet of God! Where ye abide now after the brief hour Thai shone with human empire, now >rm Bath fouled .sunt, tresses of th i of men, And loathly things have littered in her bret In your grand triumph, awful yet sublime, 1 bear a part, exulting deep with yon, 824 PALMYRA Albeit I weep, remembering what we arc f And yet I know these lives of ours not lost, Exhaling to enhance i he life of (hid, Life of all ages freshening evermore ! . . . . For us, dear friend with whom T wandered there For us the lovely ruin had a voice, A human message: after then we ranged Apart, afar ; our feeling and our thought Have known a change; still you may call to mind That argent moon upfloating large and pure In dark blue night above the solemn temple And hush of palm and water ; how we lay Under the open wakeful very long, So strange and so entrancing all the night ! Ah ! soon, how soon, we surely shall decline, Fade to the indistinguishable whole. But when the moon shall silver soft our sleep, Still fair Palmyra beautiful in death Shall thrill with her weird silence like a spirit Souls yet unborn to wistful questioning ; They too like fearful children shall implore And call, nor ever they, nor any one, Shall hear an answer floating from the v>. id ' 18GS •oode i ' I - bee among works in which the luste of the publisher, printer, stationer, engraver, and binder is jointly exercised to five additional grace to the productions of writers.' Illustiiateu Lokijon News. MACMILLAN & CO., London. This book i$ DUE on the last date stamped below. tOM-1 1-50 2555)470 REMINGTON RAND INC. UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY I :i III AA 000 374 373 9