12671 1
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 * .r 
 
 .•*
 
 THOUGHT 
 
 AND 
 
 REVERIE. 
 
 BY WILLIAM SAWYER, 
 
 Author of " Stray Leaves," &c, &c. 
 
 BRIGHTON: 
 
 PUBLISHED BY C. WILMOTT, (LATE ANDREWS,) 
 11, ST. JAMES'S STREET. 
 
 1849.

 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 The Poets and the Scholars are at issue. Their moot-point is 
 the necessity of Metre. "Wherein," cry the Scholars, "lies its 
 use ? If a man has any thing to tell the world, -why not tell it in 
 the language of a man ? The language of a man knows not 
 metre." 
 
 The Poet replying, declares Poetry and Poetic Diction to be 
 identical. Emerson says, " It is not metre, but metre-making 
 argument, that makes a Poem." And of the Poet, he tells us that 
 he, 
 
 " Through worlds and races, and terms and times, 
 
 " Saw musical order and pairing rhymes." 
 
 Carlyle insists even more stoutly on the inseparability of the 
 inner Music from the outer Song. Lowell, a more superficial 
 essayist, puts the matter thus, " Metre and Rhyme are like the 
 skin of the grape. The thought is the pulp. The one is needed to 
 hold the other together in a compact and beautiful shape. We may 
 throw it away, if we will ; but often the chief spirit and flavour of 
 the fruit is to be pressed out of it." 
 
 Siding with the Poets, I have penned the contents of this volume 
 in Metre : have endeavoured to arrange 
 
 " In musical order and pairing rhymes " 
 
 such fresh Thoughts and the fruit of such pleasant Reveries as 
 seemed to me worth the hoarding. 
 
 W. S. 
 
 9377 K
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 • 
 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Silenus 
 
 5 
 
 Heart Spectres 
 
 7 
 
 Heart and Soul 
 
 8 
 
 The Cant of Death 
 
 11 
 
 The Poet's Creed 
 
 13 
 
 My Broken Meerschaum ... 
 
 17 
 
 A Lover's Rhyme 
 
 ... 19 
 
 The Hempen Cord 
 
 20 
 
 Birthday Verses 
 
 23 
 
 Ingoldsby's Apotheosis 
 
 ... 24 
 
 The Haunted Room 
 
 25 
 
 A Thought of Haydon ;> . 
 
 26 
 
 The Spirit of the Age 
 
 27 
 
 Thoughts 
 
 29 
 
 Midnight in a Library 
 
 29 
 
 A Revolutionary Lyric 
 
 30 
 
 A Sketch from Nature 
 
 32
 
 THOUGHT AND REVERIE. 
 
 
 &tlenu£. 
 
 A leafy nook deep in a forest old, 
 
 By Autumn's hand with mellow tints embrowned, 
 Odourous of fresh flowers in unsunned mould 
 
 And fruits core-ripened scattering the ground. 
 
 There old Silenus lingering deftly crowned 
 With ivy-leaves a wine cup which he bare 
 
 Of antique structure ; about which were found, 
 Ensculptured with a quaint, voluptuous air 
 The loves of Bacchus and Ariadne the fair. 
 
 A type of earth the merry roysterer seemed, 
 
 An emanation from its fruitful rest, 
 No intellect beneath his eyelids gleamed, 
 
 But with enervate ease were they possest, 
 
 And drowsily his head sank on his breast. 
 Ruddy and shining were his cheeks, as glows 
 
 An apple that the red sun hath imprest 
 With its own hues ; and from his brow uprose 
 Two polished horns which scarce did his elf locks 
 disclose. 
 
 B
 
 6 THOUGHT AND REVERIE. 
 
 Slowlv lie raised his head and looked around, 
 
 Then with distended nostrils listening stood, 
 Catching, by some rare instinct, the faint sound 
 
 Of distant eehoes in the slumbering -wood, 
 
 Or, it might be, instinctively subdued 
 By a superior presence ; till his car 
 
 Prest forth distinguished in its earnest mood 
 A rustling of crisp leaves and branches sear, 
 And then the pattering of footsteps drawing near. 
 
 Two bright eyes gleaming through a screen of leaves, 
 
 Three little fingers white and delicate, 
 A bosom that with pleasure panting heaves, 
 
 A dainty foot half prone to hesitate, 
 
 And then, (amid a shower of blossoms,) straight 
 A lovely form into his presence burst, 
 
 A form with radiance of soul innate, 
 Whose image aye through life's wild tumult nurst 
 Had charmed the purest heart and purified the worst. 
 
 Her beauty was the beauty of the soul, 
 
 Pure, passionless, as an unworded thought, 
 Endowed with rarest power to control 
 
 All meaner things with grovelling passions fraught. 
 
 Tier eye the glory of her soul had caught, 
 And every feature in its lustre shone 
 
 Like a fair statue by a Phidias wrought, 
 That, charmed to life, the master-mind had won, 
 Stood she by Passion's brc;tlh unsoiied, unbrcathed on.
 
 THOUGHT AND REVERIE. 
 
 Thus met they in the forest side by side, 
 
 The sensous and the spiritual being, 
 Matter in noblest guise personified 
 
 With Mind's least rare developement agreeing. 
 
 Back started he, as from her presence fleeing, 
 Yet "with no power of flight in any limb ; 
 
 She with eves strained as doubting their own seeing, 
 Trembling and breathless mutely gazed on him, 
 The while around them gathered twilight sad and dim. 
 
 Who fears a sheeted spectre 
 
 Up the Hall-stairs gliding slow ? 
 
 Or a Warrior lone, half steel, half bone, 
 In the Tower that rocketh so ? 
 
 The purblind Nurse, the infant heir. 
 But not a Man, I trow. 
 
 Not from without, but from within, 
 
 Come Spectres to appal, 
 The heart alone is the haunted Tower, 
 
 And goblin-trodden Hall, 
 Where shadows of the Long ago 
 
 Upon the Present fall. 
 
 d 2
 
 8 THOUGHT AND REVERIE. 
 
 There youthful feelings, from the death 
 
 Of Youth itself revived, 
 And buried Hopes and wasted Thoughts 
 
 In Memory's charnel hived, 
 Starting unsummoned into life, 
 
 Wander like souls unshrived ; 
 
 And stalwart men of dauntless mien, 
 
 Of iron nerve and limb, 
 Knowing of Fear but as a name 
 
 For something vague and dim, 
 Pause at its portal as 'twere watched 
 
 By Flaming Cherubim. 
 
 fftairt aits &oul. 
 
 I. — HEART. 
 " A face like any blessing." — Don Quixote. 
 
 In the depths of the green forest 
 
 Where the gloomy shadows dwell, 
 Upward springs a merry streamlet 
 
 From its hidden well, 
 Dancing lightly, bubbling brightly, 
 
 On its course it flows, 
 Full of life and zest and motion, 
 
 Singing as it goes ;
 
 THOUGHT AND REVERIE. 9 
 
 Never for an instant pausing 
 
 In its mad career, 
 Never sullen, never weary 
 
 Doth its face appear. 
 Looking forth on Life and Nature 
 
 With a joyous eye, 
 From the green earth drawing freshness, 
 
 Brightness from the sky ; 
 Seeing but the cloud's fair lining 
 
 And its rain-bowed crest, 
 By joy's alchymic process gilding 
 
 All Creation's breast. 
 
 Mariana ! Mariana ! 
 
 Throw thy elfin locks aside, 
 And upraise those silken lashes 
 
 Drooped in mocking pride ; 
 Let thy features, fixed demurely, 
 
 Like a flower expand, 
 And the sunshine of thy spirit 
 
 Gleam forth warm and bland ! 
 Let thy cheeks, to rose buds dimpling, 
 
 Deeply crimsoned glow, 
 And from out that pearly cavern 
 
 Worded music flow. 
 Then upon thy merry presence, 
 
 Let me look, and deem 
 Thou art the warm-hearted Naiad 
 
 Bending o'er the stream.
 
 II. — SOUL. 
 "Fair as women in the i<lea are.'' — Cowley. 
 
 Cradled amom? mighty ruins, 
 
 Ivy-grown and grey, 
 Sleeps a lake in placid beauty, 
 
 Changeless day by day ; 
 Like the mystic eye of Nature 
 
 Gleams it, brightly blue, 
 As its depths had caught, up-gazing, 
 
 Heaven's own favoured hue. 
 Softly smiles the sun upon it 
 
 With it3 smile of gold, 
 And the moonlight rcsteth on it, 
 
 And the star-beams cold. 
 Soul-like in its calm depths, it is 
 
 Freed of earthly leaven, 
 Shadowless save with the shadows 
 
 That are born of Heaven. 
 
 Wherefore, peerless Aletiiea, 
 
 Do my senses reel and swim, 
 Surcharged with beauty as a lily 
 
 Dew-filled to the brim ? 
 Wherefore, like soft shadows gliding 
 
 O'er the moon's pale face, 
 Comes thy presence as the semblance 
 
 Of that lake I trace 1 
 Blending with its solemn beauty,
 
 THOUGHT AND REVERIE. 11 
 
 
 With its being fraught, 
 A sister grace, a "Venus rising 
 
 From a sea of thought ! 
 The spirit of the Beautiful 
 
 Still varying types may find, 
 But each to each is linked, and all 
 
 Unto the human mind. 
 Thus the power to know and feel it 
 
 Doth with man abide, 
 The Eve, the one grace spared of Eden, 
 
 Ever by his side. 
 
 Zfyt ©ant of IDeatl)* 
 
 " Toll, toll for the dead," ha ! ha ! 
 
 " Toll for the dreary dead." 
 Yes, solemnly u^c the casket, now 
 
 That the gem it held is fled ; 
 With jealous care the body lay 
 To mix ere long with its parent clay, 
 
 Since the soul it held hath fled. 
 
 " Weep, Avcep for the dead," ha ! ha ! 
 
 " Weep for the child of earth." 
 Knowing his fate why wept ye not 
 
 The moment of his birth ?
 
 12 THOUGHT AND REVERIE. 
 
 Ye knew that each passing year would pave 
 His pathway to the mouldy grave ; 
 Yet wept ye not his birth ? 
 
 " Mourn, mourn for the dead," ha ! ha ! 
 
 " He hath taken to his rest." 
 Why mourn him, then, since he hath won 
 
 The portion of the blest ? 
 Weary and worn he laid him down, 
 Seeking that peace which from life long flown 
 
 No more his wanderings blest. 
 
 " Pray, pray for the dead," ha ! ha ! 
 
 " That his soul may rest in peace." 
 Be a form of words read o'er his grave 
 
 Ere the tolling bell shall cease. 
 We lower his corpse to the unctious sound; 
 The clay will rot well in the holy ground 
 
 When the shivering priest shall cease. 
 
 " Close, close o'er the dead," ha ! ha ! 
 
 " Be the green turf lightly laid 
 " On the noble form in which so long 
 
 " A soul its home hath made." 
 Be sure that decay ere long will own 
 That dainty form, since the spirit flown 
 
 Far hence its home hath made.
 
 THOUGHT AND REVERIE. 1 
 
 o 
 
 WRITTEN BY MOONLIGHT AMONG THE BUINS OF A 
 RELIGIOUS EDIFICE. 
 
 Potent Enchantress ! With, thine icy smile 
 
 Bathing these ruins in a silvery light, 
 
 So cold, so chilling, that the inmost soul 
 
 Shudders instinctively. A thousand years 
 
 Have passed into oblivion since this pile 
 
 In all its rude magnificence arose. 
 
 Beneath the pale reflection of thy gaze, 
 
 A world in miniature, a lone retreat, 
 
 Where from the strife and turmoil of the world 
 
 The weary one retiring sought repose, 
 
 Or rich in holy confidence expired. 
 
 A thousand beads told on Time's rosary, 
 
 A thousand deep pulsations of the heart 
 
 Of our great mother Nature, and I stand 
 
 Where cowled monk and virgin devotee, 
 
 The willing victims of a blighting creed, 
 
 Oft kneeling wept in bitterness of soul 
 
 O'er memory's blotted page ; or musing leant 
 
 Beside this oriel window, looking forth 
 
 On the broad plain of heaven scattered o'er 
 
 With golden dust from the bright chariot wheels 
 
 Of the all-glorious sun. 
 
 And thou, fair Queen, 
 Still in thy virgin splendour lookcst down,
 
 14 THOUGHT AND REVERIE. 
 
 Unconscious of the changes that are wrought 
 In this decaying pile. Through the long aisles 
 The night wind moaneth with a ghostly sound, 
 Like the faint echo of low muttered prayer. 
 Along the walls where costly arras hung 
 (The choice embroidery of a maiden's hand) 
 The rustling ivy now unheeded steals, 
 Thriving upon decay; while in each nook 
 Framed for rich statues long since torn away, 
 The hooting owl hath made his hiding place, 
 And like a hermit dwells. And where are they, 
 The lonely outcasts in life's wilderness, 
 The weary ones by sad experience taught 
 That solitude lurks not in cloistered walls, 
 But in the busy haunts of daily life, 
 Where the fond heart o'ercharged with love for all 
 Seeks in the selfish crowd to find a friend, 
 And failing, pines alone ? They are no more. 
 The forms they wore are scattered to the wind, 
 Their names, their acts, the follies of a dream, 
 Have perished all. 
 
 And thou, bright orb, 
 Thou who hast gazed unmoved upon all this, 
 Proud in thy fancied immortality, 
 The hand of Time is outstretched over thee. 
 His mighty fingers shall ere long be closed 
 To crumble thee away ! What, then, shall stand 
 AVhat shall rejoice in its eternity, 
 Exalted high o'er all created things, —
 
 THOUGHT AND REVERIE. 15 
 
 If thou art mortal, too ? 
 
 A spirit voice 
 Wild and unearthly as the sounds that thrill 
 From Memnon's lyre, steals softly o'er my soul. 
 " Look to the Human Mind ! That cannot die. 
 Ages have failed to work a change in that, 
 For in it are the elements of life. 
 In one short moment, by a flash of thought, 
 What forms instinct with grace can it produce ! 
 What vast creations in embryo lie 
 Up-coiled within its caves ; yet it is but 
 A mirror wherein dimly shadowed forth 
 The universal Mind reflected lies, 
 Being imbued with the same powers in kind, 
 Though difFring in degree, and bearing still 
 An immortality within itself. 
 This truth of old the Sages understood, 
 And in the semblance of the Phoenix showed 
 The mystery to man, bidding him mark 
 How that as ages crumbled into dust 
 From out their ashes bird-like rose the Mind, 
 Still undestroyed, and in its nature still 
 Unchangeable, unchanging. * What,' said they, 
 ' What is the little world whereon we tread 
 But an embodied thought ? A particle 
 Called into birth by all-pervading Mind ? 
 The Thought flashed forth, and lo ! it rolled in space, 
 The marvel of an instant. So, perchance, 
 Another thought may crush it, and again 
 
 c 2
 
 16 THOUGHT AND REVERIE. 
 
 Restore chaotic gloom. Vastness alone 
 Distinguishes the universal Mind 
 From the less-daring human one. The first, 
 The aggregate of all creative power, 
 Doth by its own innate volition mould 
 All matter to its will, triumphing like 
 The mighty wind that issuing forth unseen 
 Houses the waters from their sullen rest 
 To its own potency. The second, weak 
 And in its slight proportions impotent, 
 Conceives but cannot body forth its thoughts, 
 Having no power upon the elements 
 Whereby it is subdued, and seeming more 
 Like the soft breath of a reposing child 
 That idly struggles to displace in sport 
 The ringlet from its cheek. Yet all is Mind,- 
 Mind that howe'er diffused and parcelled out, 
 Shall, reuniting, in the end resolve 
 The universe into its elements, 
 And leave all space, — a void ! ' " 
 
 Voice of the night, 
 Soul-breathing utterer of mysteries, 
 Not uninstructed from thy presence, I 
 Turn to the world again, inspired as he 
 Who sleeping in a Sybil's cave beholds 
 The marvels of the Spirit-land disclosed, 
 And Worships Truth all radiant and unveiled.
 
 
 THOUGHT AND REVERIE. 17 
 
 A TENDANT TO AN " ODE TO MY MEERSBAUM," PUBLISHED 
 IN THE AUTHOR'S " STRAY LEAVES." 
 
 Like the wand of Prospero, 
 
 Buried, crushed and broken, 
 Like the " Open Sesame ! " 
 
 Forgotten ere twice spoken, 
 Art thou, my ancient Pipe, to me, 
 Bereft of all thy potency, 
 A relic piteous to see, 
 
 A sad and solemn token. 
 
 Ne'er in wand of Sage or Seer 
 
 Mightier magic slumbered, 
 Merlin's own of direr pests 
 
 No charm'd land disencumbered ; 
 The fearful giant hight Despair, 
 With his brother monster Care, 
 And AVant, and Grief, and Sorrow were 
 
 Among thy conquests numbered. 
 
 In the desert thou could'st raise 
 
 A bright enchanted palace, 
 And to lips half fainting hold 
 
 A nectar-bearing chalice ; 
 "While from out thy deep bowl rolled 
 Visions glorious to behold 
 Unbought by mines of glittering gold 
 
 Untouched by envious malice.
 
 Like a star of steady ray, 
 
 The wanderer's heart's delighter, 
 As darker grew the sky of life 
 
 Gleam d'st thou forth the brighter, 
 Cheering ever, failing never, 
 Striving on with one endeavour, 
 Misery's dark wiles to sever, 
 
 Or to smile despite her. 
 
 Life hath roughly passed with me, 
 
 Passed in want and sorrow, 
 But I long have learnt of thee 
 
 Joy 'midst grief to borrow ; 
 Sure that like the diver's leap 
 For the treasures of the deep, 
 Though peril now its reign might keep, 
 
 Ease, wealth, would come to-morrow. 
 
 With this lesson in my heart, 
 And thy sweet breath twining 
 
 Around my path, I never yet 
 Dreamt of vain repining ; 
 
 But I gaze upon thee now, 
 
 With a pained and troubled brow 
 
 Since for ever lost art thou, — 
 Lost to life's declining. 
 
 Yes, we two are parted hence, 
 
 In a moment parted, 
 And I view thy shattered form, 
 
 Sad and weary-hearted.
 
 THOUGHT AND REVERIE. 19 
 
 At the well of pleasure now, 
 "With a helpless look I bow, 
 Since my cherished draught-cup thou 
 From my grasp hast started. 
 
 By the constant unison 
 
 Of the heart in thought to one 
 
 It is glad to look upon, 
 
 By the death of all desires 
 
 That heart- frosting Self inspires, 
 
 By a never, never ending 
 
 Sympathy and secret tending 
 
 Of all thoughts, and wishes too, 
 
 One object ever fresh and new 
 
 To the vision it doth bless 
 
 "With a sense of happiness 
 
 Never felt but in that presence, 
 
 Whose being is its life and essence ; 
 
 By a never slumbering care 
 
 For its pleasure and welfare, 
 
 A care that doth with years incline 
 
 To render it a sacred shrine, 
 
 Sacred to one Devotee. 
 
 By a feeling that to be 
 
 Accepted there would all repay, 
 
 Should Fortune, Fame, Friends pass away, 
 
 And their memories decay.
 
 20 THOUGHT AND REVEKIE. 
 
 By these feelings and sensations, 
 
 By a thousand more, 
 Nameless in their indications, 
 
 Yet a priceless store, 
 Doth True Love its presence show ; 
 By these tests ye may it know 
 Surely as ye may the advent 
 
 Of the coming spring, 
 When the heart floats like a bubble 
 
 And the thougl % take wing 
 To untrodden nooks, where Poets, 
 
 Face-shaded, lie and sing. 
 
 €t)e ffltm$m ©or*. 
 
 We crown thy temples, Phantom Bard, 
 
 But with no earthly flowers, 
 No dewy fragrant blossoms reared 
 In earth's untainted bowers. 
 More dear to that demon heart of thine 
 Is this hempen cord our fingers twine, 
 That christened in blood as it burst its seed, 
 To Death and his service was aye decreed 
 Doing his mission, bound to his will, 
 A woven curse only fashioned for ill, 
 That nourished on blood at birth loveth it still.
 
 THOUGHT AND REVERIE. 21 
 
 II. 
 
 Down by the copse and through the elms 
 
 There passed two human creatures, 
 This warm of hand, that warm of heart, 
 Yet both with placid features ; 
 They paused to look on the setting sun — 
 But when it had sunk there stood but one ! 
 One with a wild and fiendish mien, 
 The other lay 'mid the herbage green, 
 And the hemp's young leaves just bursting to view 
 Were dyed with the drops of crimson hue 
 The gash on his bared breast slow oozing through. 
 
 in. 
 
 A year, — and he who trod the hemp 
 
 When that red sun was sinking, 
 Now paced his new won castle walls 
 With bare head deeply thinking ; 
 The hemp in the field had thriven and grown, 
 But not so swift as the thorns that, sown 
 In his guilty breast by remorse, o'crrun 
 That dreary waste, choking one by one 
 Each feeling of kindly growth that strove 
 To pierce the sharp bonds around it wove, 
 Each feeling of charity, penitence, love. 
 
 IV. 
 
 In that castle's chapel old, 
 
 AVhose gloom made stout hearts falter, 
 
 D
 
 22 THOUGHT AND REVERIE. 
 
 The bridegroom waited to receive 
 His pure child at the altar. 
 In the bridegroom's hand his child's he placed. 
 Why started the youth, and grew horror-faced ? 
 "Why flashed his eyes, and why scowled his brow, 
 As he muttered, " Fiend ! I have tracked thee now, 
 " The jewelled dagger thy belt doth bear 
 " Is that my father was wont to wear 
 " Ere his blood dyed the hemp-field. Ho ! seize him, 
 there." 
 
 v. 
 
 Seen in the cold grey morning light 
 
 Half in mist enshrouded, 
 Upon the castle's topmost height 
 Were four dark figures crowded ; 
 One with hands cross'd on his bosom stood, 
 One with a haughty disdainful mood, 
 Unheeding of her who knelt praying for grace, 
 And one with a cord, and a mask on his face. 
 A mist from the valley obscured the scene, 
 It passed, and three stood where four had been ; 
 One swung by the hemp he had blood-dyed when green ! 
 
 VI. 
 
 We crown thy temples, Phantom Bard, 
 
 But with no earthly flowers, 
 No dewy fragrant blossoms reared 
 
 In earth's untainted bowers.
 
 THOUGHT AND REVERIE. 23 
 
 More dear to that demon heart of thine 
 Is this hempen cord our fingers twine, 
 That christened in blood as it burst its seed, 
 To Death and his service was aye decreed 
 Doing his mission, bound to his will, 
 A woven curse only fashioned for ill, 
 That nourished on blood at birth loveth it still. 
 
 
 33tvtt)t»ag Wtntot. 
 
 TO M. J. A., WITH A VOLUME OF POEMS. 
 
 In those ages, of which Sages, in their pages 
 
 Tell us, 
 Ere to ladies Love betrayed his power or made his 
 
 Votaries jealous, 
 On a birth-day morning 
 Siren slumber scorning, 
 
 Youths with flowers laden 
 (While the dews winked o'er them) 
 Hurried forth to pour them 
 
 At the feet 
 Of the sweet 
 Yet half awakened maiden. 
 
 'Twas a practice, which, the fact is, to detract is 
 
 Folly 
 
 d 2
 
 24 THOUGHT AND REVERIE. 
 
 But such wooings and such doings shock our viewings 
 
 Melancholy ; 
 We the rite have banished, 
 But though it hath vanished, 
 
 Still affection's ready, 
 Not with clustered roses, 
 But with rhymed posies, 
 
 Such as I 
 Heartily, 
 Thus present thee, lady. 
 
 Flooding the forest with a golden light, 
 Uprose the red moon from a sea of trees, 
 
 Revealing every object to the sight 
 Distorted in grotesque varieties, 
 
 And full before it bent the antic shape 
 
 Of tricksome Puck, night-loving imp of mirth, 
 Beside a spectral form still prone to earth, 
 
 That chuckling strove a saintly mien to ape. 
 
 A burst of silvery laughter, loud and clear, 
 Proclaimed the advent of some crowning jest ; 
 Then, while its echoes broke the night's deep rest, 
 With eager haste those well-known tones to hear 
 I started up, and as the vision fled, 
 I knew, I felt, alas ! that Ingoldsby was dead !
 
 THOUGHT AND REVERIE. 25 
 
 ®f)c fpaunteH 3&oom. 
 
 Shadow on shadow, and shade on shade, 
 Till the room grew dark with the gloom they made 
 And the red moon gleamed as if veiled in a cloud, 
 Softly they came, and silent they stood, 
 Each shadowy face, 'neath its dusky hood, 
 Each sinewless form in its air-woven shroud, 
 With never a breath and never a sound. 
 In the silence of night they stood around, 
 Each with its outstretched arm and hand, 
 A solemn, silent, shadowy band ! 
 
 Rosily couched 'midst the silence and gloom 
 An infant slept in the haunted room, 
 Slept, with its budding form half hid 
 'Neath the folds of the silken coverlid, 
 Its fresh face flooded with a tide 
 Of tresses in the sunlight dyed, 
 That made with all their wealth of light 
 A softened glory in the night. 
 Its large full eyes of deepest blue 
 Their sensitive lids half-bursting through, 
 Yet coyly shrinking from Night's dark view, 
 Making us wondering muse if they, 
 Hued like the eye of Heaven by day, 
 By night grew dark and starred with it. 
 Scarce seemed its soft mouth to emit 
 A breathing sound, till, like a flower,
 
 26 THOUGHT AND REVERIE. 
 
 (Daintily closed through a summer shower) 
 It oped with a smile and shed around 
 
 The fragrance of one long-drawn breath 
 That passing left the lips ice-bound 
 
 Laugh-parted 'neath the touch of Death. 
 
 Shadow by shadow, and shade by shade, 
 Silently out from the room they fade, 
 Silently into the breathless night, 
 Leaving no record, no trace of their flight, 
 Save that the young mother entering soon 
 Gazeth, and stareth, and stoopeth low, 
 Over the first born she loveth so ; 
 Then with a sickening sense of woe, 
 Sinks to the earth in a sudden swoon. 
 
 & Gflbottgtjt of H>agUott. 
 
 Mourn not for Haydon ! Twine not for his urn 
 One wreath of cypress or sepulchral yew, 
 Though he a fearful deed hath dared to do 
 
 The bitter burden of a life to spurn. 
 
 Mourn not for Haydon ! Why should we repent 
 That with a Roman* mightiness of soul, 
 A God-like energy, he dared control 
 
 And make stern Death a slave to his intent ! 
 
 * Suicide was in some cases regarded among the Romans as a 
 virtuous act. Shall we hold a less charitable opinion towards poor 
 Haydon ?
 
 THOUGHT AND REVERIE. 27 
 
 His potent will hath conquered ! He hath burst 
 The bonds that held a mighty spirit here, — 
 
 A spirit that for heavenly airs athirst 
 
 Loathed its existence on this gloomy sphere, 
 
 And spreading forth its glowing wings to flight, 
 
 Left, as it sped afar, a track of golden light ! 
 
 CDe &pfrft of tfje gt&t. 
 
 WRITTEN ON THE OPENING OF A NEW CHURCH. 
 
 Awake ! Dull dreamer by the ingle nook, 
 
 Hand-folded mourner of departed days, 
 Arouse, and let thy soul exultant look 
 
 Where yet fresh altars from the dark earth blaze ! 
 The Spirit of the Age still yearns for good, 
 
 Still struggles bravely with the earthly leaven, 
 And from the shadow of its idle self 
 
 Turns to the holier life that is of Heaven ! 
 The fury of the zeal that hot for good 
 
 Sought for it e'en in evil has passed o'er; 
 But the zeal lives, and living tempered, makes 
 
 Devotion what was Bigotry before. 
 
 Yes, it has learnt to choose " the better part," 
 
 Learnt at the pen-point what the sword ne'er taught, 
 
 That Truth is pure, albeit unwashed in blood, 
 
 And Faith is unctuous, though with life unbought.
 
 28 THOUGHT AND REVERIE. 
 
 Thus in the sunshine of a purer creed 
 
 It seeks new temples for its adoration, 
 Loathing the structures by oppression raised, 
 
 The altars black with hate and desecration ; 
 It seeks new temples, where no echoes moan 
 
 O'er wrong and treachery and secret crime, 
 Where Heaven's own light illumes ; nor brooding floats 
 
 The darkening shadow of departed Time. 
 
 And it will have such temples through the land, 
 
 Will bend Art, Wealth, and Skill to its control, 
 'Till thickly clustered as the stars of night 
 
 They rise to gladden the desponding soul. 
 E'en now the seed is sown, the fruitful soil 
 
 Is pregnant with the harvest of our hopes, 
 And true hearts beat and watchful eyes grow bright 
 
 As flow'r by flow'r with Self's rude blight-breath 
 copes. 
 Awake, then, dreamer by the ingle nook, 
 
 Hand folded mourner of departed days, 
 Arouse, and let thy soul exultant watch 
 
 Where yet fresh altars from the dark earth blaze.
 
 THOUGHT AND REVERIE. 29 
 
 djOttSfcte. 
 
 By the calm waters of the Inner-soul, 
 Like timid deer reposing, lie the thoughts 
 That hallow human life. Shrinking, they fly 
 E'en at the breath-tones of the voice that dares 
 Their presence summon. But in holy hours 
 When peace descends on us, and in the heart 
 No passions thunder, oft the Poet's art 
 May woo them from their haunts, and hap'ly link 
 With amaranthine wreaths, their gentle forms 
 To never-dying Words. 
 
 #itHntgi)t in a ffiiferarg. 
 
 With a faint tremour of the lip and hand, 
 A vague uncertain consciousness of dread, 
 Amid these relics of the mighty dead, 
 
 At this lone, awe-inspiring hour I stand, 
 
 While trembling Fear descries an airy band 
 Of disembodied spirits lingering 
 About the earth-wrought works to which they cling 
 
 Still fondly even in the Spirit land. 
 
 There is a rustic as of tremulous wings, 
 
 The air grows hot and stifling, while the car. 
 O'er sensitive with an excess of fear, 
 
 Is haunted by unearthly whisperings ! 
 
 E
 
 30 THOUGHT AND REVERIE. 
 
 Strange sights, strange sounds, strange feelings, mock 
 each sense, 
 
 Oh ! Mind, where is thy might, thy power, thy presci- 
 ence ? 
 
 fSL a&etooluttonarg %ytiu 
 
 With the wine-flush in her cheek, 
 
 With the lust-light in her eye, 
 
 Out into the troubled night 
 Goeth wanton France to seek 
 
 For Ignis Fatuus light 
 
 She hath christened Liberty. 
 
 In the shadow, in the gloom, 
 
 Follows she a siren-song, 
 
 That thus breathing through the night 
 Woos her to a nameless doom, — 
 
 " Out upon the Old and Wrong, 
 
 " Welcome to the New and Eight. 
 
 " Thou hast felt oppression's grasp, 
 " Thou hast known the curse of kings, 
 " Known and heard of kings o'erthrown ; 
 
 " Strive, then, to thy dying gasp 
 
 " For the good that Freedom brings, 
 " For the good to slaves unknown.
 
 
 THOUGHT AND REVERIE. 31 
 
 " Cast the Tyrant to the earth, 
 " From his shadow free thy land, 
 " With the warm blood of thy veins 
 
 " Consecrate the glorious birth 
 " Of the Spirit whose command 
 " Shall release thy limbs from chains." 
 
 Heated by the witching strain, 
 Maddened by the sense of wrong, 
 From its sheath her sword is drawn, 
 
 Boldly drawn, yet drawn in vain ; 
 Little may it speed the dawn 
 Of the good time worshipped long. 
 
 Crowned heads may crownless lie, 
 Ermined tyrants rule no more ; 
 But what boots it, if in place 
 
 Of their senseless tyranny 
 
 Charlatans, 'midst floods of gore, 
 "Work the National disgrace ? 
 
 What avails it, though the Form, 
 Like a player's vesture, change, 
 If the Spirit is the same ? 
 
 Who would rouse Rebellion's storm, 
 Who through countless systems range, 
 But to gain the best — in name ?
 
 32 THOUGHT AND REVERIE. 
 
 M. gktttft frotw Hatute. 
 
 It is a leafy grove of trees 
 
 That link their knotted boughs on high, 
 
 Forming a shady canopy, 
 A green cathedral, where the breeze, 
 The pleasant breeze that all day long 
 
 Hath wandered in the sultry heat, 
 
 Comes after sunset to repeat 
 At Nature's shrine its even song 
 
 In concert with the wandering stream, 
 That roving from the hills among 
 
 Laves the moss-guarded banks, where teem 
 
 The flowers that woo no sunny gleam, 
 But evermore their petals close 
 And droop, as they were hushed in deep repose. 
 
 THE END.

 
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