LIBRARY UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA RIVERSIDE Ex Lihris ISAAC FOOT A A A A A A <>i SONGS IN EXILE, AyD OTHER POEMS. By H. E. CLARKE. 8vo. Cloth Extra. Price 6s. OPINIONS OF THE PRESS. ACADEMY. " Mr. Clarke is a poet ■■t.-^^ STORM-DRIFT: ^oemo anti bonnets* BY H. E. CLARKE, Author of ' Songs in Exile,' ' Rebel Tunes,' etc. LONDON : DAVID BOGUE, 3 ST. MARTIN'S PLACE, TRAFALGAR SQUARE, W.C. 1882. {All Rights Reserved.^ pf 4 4 C73 > STORM-DRIFT. Day and the storm, their long fight over, die On the red field together, shattered and sjient; The thunder's roar sinks to a low lament, The wind's shout to the shadow of a sigh, And over heaven the mingled armies fly Headlong, ivith trailing blood-stained banners rent, In one wild whirl of rout and ruin sent To night's abysm beneath the western sky. Hags of encrimsoned cloud by tempest torn, Dyed ivith day's blood, fierce shapes that change and shift, Passions and sorrows and sins in mingled flight ; But sometimes some faint ray of a moon unborn, Or thro' the horror of the hurrying drift A star of Hope on the steadfast brows of night. I CONTENTS. PAGE. A Story of Salerno 1 Tlie Journey's End 37 Across the iJiver... 40 To Louise Chaiuiler Moulton 51 On the Hillside... 5.3 The Heretic-Martyr 56 Light Love 65 The Ballad of the Haunted Glade ... 68 A Nocturne at Twilight ... 76 A Last Letter 78 At Hawthornden 83 A Picture 85 The Marshal's Triumpli ... 87 Two Years Ago ... 97 A Cry... 99 A Lay Sermon ... . 100 A Voluntary 117 Failure . IIS) A Kebel Retreat . 122 The Wreck . 126 Condemned . 129 "Till the Bay Break" . 1.39 ^ Spring Song . 141 A Rebel Riding Song 144 To a Disconsolate Poet . 146 Contra Mundum . 149 After All . 160 In the Shadow ... . 163 A Night Rhapsody . 169 A Legend The Craven's Tragedy . 176 . 186 Sonnets — The Age . 221 The Passion of Life . 223 The Passion of Death . 224 Dis-illusion . 225 A Modern Venus ... 226 At Penshurst . 227 The Assignation ... . 228 In the Isle of Elv... 229 Satiety ... " ... '. 231 Tlie Broken Gods ... 232 With a Copy of " The Defence of Guinevere " '. 233 A Dead Leader . 23.J De Profundis . 236 " The Philo-sophy of War " ... . 237 In Mcmoriam . 238 ICing of Kings . 239 To .1 R. W. . 240 At the Corbiere ... . 241 Fame ... . 242 The World's Way ... . 243 Bin and Death 244 After Reading " La Faute de I'Abbe Mouret " . 245 Desecration . 246 Life and Death ... . 247 L'Envoi... . 249 STORM-DRIFT : POEMS AND SONNETS. A STORY OF SALERNO. Tancred, Prince of Salerno, puts his daughter's lover to death, and sends his heart to her in a golden cup ; she pours water upon it which she had poisoned, and so dies. Boccaccio's Decameeon. TOO beautiful for weeds of widowhood, Too fair a bride for sorrow seemed she ; Love's fire in her dark eyes still unsubdued Smouldered unseen, and youth's blood warm and free Glowed in her perfect face deliciously. And still to come was all the best of life — She had not loved, though she had been a wife. B 2 STOEM-DEIFT I The old dotard duke, her father's choice, was dead — God give him peace ! — and she was free as air ; Full many a mass for his soul's sake was said ; Morning and night she breathed his name in prayer ; But she was young, and life was very fair, And freedom after bondage fairer still ; She could not grieve e'en if she had the will. There, in her father's court, she dwelt once more As when a maiden, brightest of the throng Of high-born beauties. Even as of yore The days were wooed to death with dance and song. And broidery work, and yet were sometimes long; Not always could the ladies' jests beguile ; There seemed a sameness in the courtiers' smile. This thin court-life was but a gilded toy, A jingling bauble, a poor hollow shell ; No pulse of nature — no full-blooded joy — True-ringing mirth — true passion's heave and swell — Did ever break the dreary, deadening spell. And day by day there grew in Ghismond's breast Impatient longings, not to be suppressed. POEMS AND SONNETS. O O, for a life that should be worth the name — A human life of Love and Hope and Grief, Of plan and deed and failure, praise and blame^ Strained anxiety and sweet relief; A woman's life of firm and fond belief. Devotion deep and high as seas and skies, And silent, unbeheld self-sacrifice ! No gay court butterfly her heart could gain. Though many a lordliug for the treasure strove. To flutter shattered from her bright disdain. And deem for days that he must die of love. JNot any prayer that haughty heart could move, And many thought that Ghismond heart had none ; Ah, thev shall know the truth e'er all be done. That fortress, to their arms impregnable. Without a siege shall soon capitulate. And Love within the inmost citadel Shall as a monarch rule with regal state. He comes whose touch can open every gate. Yet humbly clad and in no conqueror's guise, Wearing nor silk nor gold to catch her eyes ; With neither wealth, nor lands, nor ancient name. Nor pride of place — with knightly spurs to win, 4 STORM-DRIFT : With shield unblazoned, without friends or fame. Yet ope jOTir gates, O fortress, and begin To sound, ye trumpets, ere he enter in. Nay, silently he comes whose steps ere long Shall thrill her soul like music or sweet song. Orer the battlements as in a dream, One eve she leaned, and gazed upon the sea ; Below Salerno's lights began to gleam, Yet never on the grim old town looked she, But on the far horizon ceaselessly, As one whose vision, clear and unconfined, Pierced to the Land of Dreams that lay behind. What doth she see in that mysterious land With those deep, liquid, wonder-haunted eyes ? 'Tis well for her she doth not understand All the dread secret that before her lies — Only she sees Love fade from Youth that dies — And as she turns a tear is on her face ; Her bosom heaves beneath its snowy lace. But hark — a careless song doth fill her ear, And first she starts, so silent was the night. Then stays to think how musical and clear The singer's voice is, and his song how bright And mirthful ; in the wan moonlight rOEMS AND SONNETS. O She sees him come the winding way along-. And dreams a moment 'tis the God of Song, So much he hath of godhke strength and grace, The ease of power, the body's perfect poise. And above all the song-lit, fearless face ; No court-bred youth hath such a shape or voice. He passes by, but at the rustling noise Of lady's silk turns round again — anon. Bows to the ground before her, and is gone — As if a star had flashed across the sky, Leaving it darker when the splendour died. She feels her loneliness more utterly. The emptiness of power and pomp and pride. To have lived once fully, to have loved, laughed, sighed, Foughtand endured where doughtiestdeeds are done In the fight's front, and sunk to rest well won. This had been better, spite of dust and din. And spite of scars, than blank and vapid peace. Where no wounds fall there are no crowns to win. And action to the young is more than ease ; Too well, too long, she has known vain thoughts like these. And now, unwitting of the change to be, ''There is no help — no hope — no change for me," 6 STOEM-DEIFT : She murmurs, gazing out once more afar ; But darkness blots the distance from her view ; The cloudless sty is bright with many a star, The moon rides up a path of deepest blue, And out at sea lights glimmer far and few. Where vessels motionless wait for the breeze ; And no sound comes but whispering of the seas. And so right wearily she turns away ; Yet to her lips that merry song will rise. And in her dreams again she hears the lay, And the bright face, lighted with glad surprise To see her beauty, haunts her sleeping eyes ; Tea, once bold Sleep — wild jester that he is ! — Made the brio:ht singer seem to snatch a kiss. Next day they wandered underneath the shade Of sun-lit leaves that dappled the sott grass, Tall knight and courtier gay and high-born maid, Grave councillor and page and waiting lass ; And midst the brilliant crowd she saw him pass. Her heart leaped suddenly — she knew not why — But spake to one beside most carelessly : " Whence comes the stranger ? Did you mark him not?'' And he, a love-lorn wight of aspect sad. POEMS AND SONNETS. 7 Said, " 'Tis a new-come kitchen-lielp, God wot, Or some sucli menial — a low-born lad.^' " Aye, sir/' laughed she, " methought he seemed too glad And blithe of heart for any court to rear — A happy face is strange and welcome here. *' Nay, what a sigh ! Take heart of grace, my lord ; Pd know the name of this same scullery- knight; Sure such an one should scarcely wear a sword ! Perchance you speak from knowledge less than spite. I pray you, go and bring his name aright. Or better, send him hither ; ^' and he bowed And did her bidding, cursing not aloud. And at the stranger's eyes her face took flame. And as he knelt her heart beat loud and fast : '' Guiscard, saidst thou? Thou canst not help thy name. The Prince's messenger ? " and she had passed. Leaving him kneeling, tremulous, aghast, Who was as yet in youth's best lore unwise — Unlearned in love and love's sweet mysteries. But afterward his learning grew apace, Por fate was kind, and very oft they met. S STOKM-DKIFT I In good Prince Tancred's eyes the youtli found grace, And in liis daughter's something sweeter yet — Something that made him all things else forget. Poor birth, low life, and dull, inglorious care, At Love's all-powerful touch grew great and fair. How thou art born, Love, or how dost grow, Upon what meat dost feed, why wane and die, We know not ; only this we surely know. We all shall love, and have no reason why ; And it may be ere long that Love shall fly ; We only know that thou wilt have thy way ; We cannot make thee come or fly or stay. Man is a child again beneath thy spell, Desiring moons and suns with sobs and tears. Deaf for a season to the sounding knell That rises higher with the gathering years. And thunders death and doom unto his ears, Saying, " Thou diest ;" Love and all things pass ; In one short hour thou diest as the grass. Thou drawest here two lives from very far. And each of other shall become a part ; 0, woe to him who shall thy doing mar ! A jealous and a vengeful god thou art ! Thy curse on those that sunder heart from heart POEMS AND SONNETS. 9 Is heavy as the curse that fell on Cain, An everlasting brand on brow and brain. Thou breakest all the world's strong barriers down ; Bowest the high and raisest up the low ; Iphigenia raak'st equal with the clown, Cophetua with the beggar ; even so Ghismond and Guiscard to each other grow. Princess and messenger bj thee made one. Together now their deathward course must run. Yet Guiscard long believed it but a dream, And cursed the vanity that mocked his eyes. *' I am but one of those poor fools who deem That every woman for their love's sake sighs ; This scorned I most of human vanities ; My scorn shot forth too early, grew too fast ; The snare 1 laughed at takes mv feet at last. *' Yet when I gave the letter her hand shook, And her lips quivered, and her cheek grew pale ; Aye^ thrice she tried into my eyes to look, And thrice beneath my eyes her eyes did fail, Nor might her sudden turn of hea.d avail To hide the blush thereafter — yet she spake As a queen speaks to slaves that cringe and quake." 10 STORM-DRIFT : So with himself he communed doubting still, And sometimes she was gracious, sometimes cold. And like a flower beneath or heat or chill, Guiscard drooped earthward, or was blithe and bold At every change. And the slow seasons rolled, Pl^-ing their silent task beheld of none, Till the sudden blossom burst into the sun. One eve Ghismond stood gazing on the sea, Even as she had gazed on that first night She saw his face — sadly and wistfully. As though she saw far off a mournful sight; The skies were blood-red with the sunset light, The sea moaned restless to a restless breeze. And Ghismond's heart was restless as the sea's. Once, and but once, for a brief space we have life — Once, and but once, for a briefer are we young — And the passionate air and ardent earth are rife With Love that laughs the springtime buds among. Life's one best gift, as all have said or sung. Once, and but once, for a little, little while, Shall we yield our gift unused and only smile ? Yea, when cool water flows where blood doth beat Now in our veins so hotly — not till then. POEMS AND SONNETS. 11 There be some, 'tis said, who have subdued its heat From the very first, who to our humble ken Seem either more than gods or less than men, And move not us who are neither less nor more, But merely men and women to the core. And Ghismond's heart cried, " Help me, or I die ; Feed me with love ere I fall famished ; Youth's dawn is passed, andlo, mid-noon is nigh. And I grow faint, from dawn to noon unfed." And Ghismond, casting round her eyes for bread. Found but the petrified court life alone. And knew her heart must die or turn to stone. A rustle of leaves, a windy heaven above, A restless sea that felt the coming moon, A wanton breeze that laughed, and whispered love. And kissed her lips, and sighed as like to swoon. Then rose as one made bolder by the boon, And tossed the lace to leave her white throat bare. And drew his amorous fingers through her hair, And held her hard, and kissed her fierce and long, llien let her go, and frolicked forth to sea, Leaving her flushed, the rude rogue, bold and strong. Whose blithe caresses were too Avild and free For a fair lady nurtured tenderly. 12 storm-drift: But yet were better than the cringe and crawl Of the court spaniels herding in the hall, Whence she had fled to escape the loneliness Most dread of all that dwells amid the crowd, Thrids the wild dance, moans through the music's stress, Stands grim and silent when the mirth is loud, And waits beside the throne clad in a shroud. Of old a corpse to festivals men brought; Now is no need ; it comes to all unsought. Wind of Spring, there is magic in thy breath; wild Spring Wind, there is passion in thy kiss ; Thou raisest up the flowers from darksome death, With tales of love that dying they must miss — For our tired souls, wilt thou do less than this ? For her sad heart, passionate Wind of Spring, Bring love and healing on thy wandering wing. " I have sinned, surely, in Love's sight," said she, " And he hath gone from me for evermore." Lo, a light step — and one came silentlj'. With a drooping head, as though a load he bore. Not like the fearless singer who before Checked his glad song at sight of her — he came Slowly and sadly, changed and yet the same. POEMS AND SONNETS. 13 He bowed before her, but raised not his eyes. And so had passed ; her white hand bade him stay. Up to her brow she felt the warm flush rise, Saw from his face all colour die away, And said, " Thou art altered who wast once so gay; Thou art thoughtful who wast merry, pale and wan Who wast ruddy once — where is thy gladness gone ? " Is thy love false ? or all too true, too long ? Or is thy gold gone to some gambling page ? Hath any with thy master done thee wrong ? Is thy labour doubled, or is halved thy wage ? No greater ills befit thy place or age, And these may all be conquered — be of cheer — Be thy grief spoken, I am fain to hear.'' He paused awhile as one in doubt and pain : " Lady," he said at last, " in years gone by, My mother tells me that I wept amain A night and day because it seemed that I, Wanting but just the round moon from the sky. Found it not given me forthwith, and now That lono-ing has returned, I know not how." 14 STORM-DRIFT : ** Moonstruck, indeed ! " — " Aye, lady, moonstruck — mad — She, queen of heaven, so pure, so fair, so far — And I " — " Thou dost forget the Latmian lad ; There was a scandal noised from star to star ! He but a shepherd too ; thy chances are Far better than thou deemest ; dull despair Ne'er won aught yet, but be thou bold and dare." "Yea, that will I ! " — like a silver trumpet's peal The words rang. " On one throw I stake the whole — O !Moon of Love's high heaven, to thee I kneel — Thou swayest all the tides of all my soul, And thou canst fill my life with joy or dole. Canst kiss me into heaven or stop my breath With but a word — I win or thee or death. " If I am but Love's fool speak thou the word. My life is in thy hand — the guards are nigh ; If through mere vanity I have so long erred, Speak and be merciful, and let me die ; For hear — I love thee — I love thee — even I, As other wiser men their equals love. Have I dared little ? Am I bold enough? " 3 The wild words died, the speaker bowed his head, Still kneeling at her feet to hear his doom, POEMS AND SONNETS. 15 And there was utter silence. Then, instead Of any word, a delicate perfume, A white hand gleaming tremulous in the gloom Before his face, and in that hand he wist Love and not Death was given him as he kissed. Slowly he rose, made drunken with delight. And, like the moon's track on the dusky sea, His life's way shone before him dazzling bright ; One moment he stood dazed ; then breathed she His name, low, softly, and caressingly. And lips sought lips, and lingered close and long. And well she feels his circling arms are strong. 0, for a space they are as gods, they twain ; They touch not earth, they breathe no mortal breath ; They are out of reach of sorrow and of pain. Beyond the touch of Time or Change or Death ; Till she at length his strong clasp looseneth. Panting they lean against the sheltering wall, And silence drops from Heaven like a pall. His face is flushed and hers is marble white ; Her eyes downcast, but his on fire with love ; His hand seeks hers that trembles with delight, Then nestles there as 'twere a tiny dove ; Once, twice, and yet again his glad lips move 16 STORM-DRIFT : To speak, but alway ere the words can come Joy catches all his breath and strikes him dumb. What words thej spake when once their speech was found, And soul went forth to soul 'neath those sweet skies, "While ever the dim twilight grew around. And the stars came and wondered at her eyes ; What burning vows — what questions and re- plies — Who knows ? — who knows not ? Hand still locked in hand. Far on into the quiet night they stand. Her hair falls o'er him in a golden shower, Soft, silken, with faint scent ambrosial ; Her lips on his are like a dewy flower, Wherefrom he drinks a wine ethereal ; His veins thrill to her bosom's rise and fall ; Yea, to them both on this thrice-happy night Life seems one glorious passion of delight. So let us leave them thus awhile in bliss, And let no thought come near of pain or ill ; Cling to him, happy Princess, cling and kiss ; 0, happy Guiscard, drink of Love thy fill. Nought can annul these moments, come what will. POEilS AND SONNETS. 17 And come what will one life has joy enough, If once it find one hour of perfect love. npHERE is nought better in this life of ours Thau the first sojourn in Love's pleasant land ; It lies a garden full of fruit and flowers Fed with fresh dew, by fragrant breezes fanned. Mid burning leagues of ban*en desert sand. Happy are they who soon its shelter win — Thrice happy tarrying evermore therein. Ghismond and Guiscard in this garden strayed. Drinking its freshness, cohmr, and perfume, Even as through Eden, fi-ee and undismayed. The world's first lovers, ere their day of doom Wandered with God ; when yet the fatal bloom On the fair fruit of the Forbidden Tree Showed that unbroken was Ilis dread decree. 18 stoem-drift: Now might tlie silken courtier smile and smile, The ladies jest, the dull priest prose and whine; For Love hath power full pleasantly to wile The hours where through Ghisuiond was v/ont to pine ; And when night rose above the far sea-line, And the world slept — oh, then right glad she went Swiftly unto the sea-ward battlement, "Where Guiscard waited by the banner-pole. Deeming the minutes hours till she should come ; Then from the night a space for love they stole. While all beside except the sea was dumb. How could her life be dull or wearisome While she could dream of last night's quiet bliss. Or plan some new delicious way to kiss ? So gi'ew their love, unseen of human eye ; So leaf by leaf the passion-flower unfurled ; So as the days passed on it filled their sky, And first their heaven became at last their world ; The starry eves, the fragrant morns dew- pearled. Saw their sweet meetings, and they grudged the day That took them from each other's side away. POEMS AND SONNETS. 19 " I-cannot tell you all I would/' she sig-lied ; ^' These stolen moments are too short and few." " Let us go hence together, love," he cried, " And part not any more our whole lives through, In a new land beginning life anew. Ear from the noise of courts, the windy strife And petty envy of this tinsel life." " Nay, fair and softly, stay awhile, Guiscard ; Thou hast not heard me yet."— " On — on— O sweet ! " (" Loose me, I pray, and kiss me not so hard ; Feel here how thou hast made my poor heart beat,) Methiuks there is a place where we could meet Oft as we would, yet bafiSe every eye. Take thou this paper— nay— no more — goodbye." ■" Go to the thicket, on the hilVs north side Under the Castle; search it ivell; for there The brambles and the tangled grasses hide A secret entrance, made with cunning care Unto a grotto, long forgotten, ivhere .If thou descend (be wan/, Love, and slow !) Thou shaltfind Ghismond waiting thee below." 20 STOKM-DRIFT : '' I kiss thee, messenger of liope/^ he said ; " Mary, I praise thee for my lady's grace — There is none like her, widow, wife, or maid — Peerless she is in spirit as in face." After a weary search he found the place. Beneath the tangled brushwood of the dell, Dark, deep, and secret as a hidden well. Then back he sped, and all the day he wrought Making a ropen ladder strong and stout; At night once more the lonely dell he sought. From the pit's mouth cleared thorns and brambles out. And, with great heart that knew not fear nor doubt. Into the darkness plunged blithe of cheer To think his guerdon of delight was near. to' That night Ghismond was wondrous ill at ease ; Her women whispered of her peevishness ; Not matter what they did, they could not please ; She would not have unbound a single tress — And when one would have loosened her rich dress, She cried aloud she would be plagued no more — Bade them begone, and locked her chamber door.. POExMS AND SONNETS. 21 Upon the instant all transformed slie was ; Her breath came quickly and her eyes grew bright ; She turned to gaze upon her looking-glass. And knew she ne'er beheld a fairer sight. Flushed were her cheeks, her eyes like stars at night — A tremor shook her that she could not quell, And fast her glorious bosom rose and fell. She raised the heavy hangings from the wall — Disclosed an iron door, fast locked and barred — And, casting off her rings and jewels all, Took rusty keys, and with white hands strove hard To open it. — " Would thou wert here, Guiscard ! Would thou could'st help ! — too weak am I," she sighed. The last bolt crashed — the door jQew open wide — And Guiscard clasped her in his strong embrace. " Lady,'^ he said, " 'twas Love that guided me I could not linger at the trysting place — Say, is all well? " — " Aye, well indeed," sighed she, " Now thou art here, dear love, to comfort me.'' And speaking thus with face grown sudden white, Swooned in his arms for overmuch delight. 22 STORJr-DRTFT : The dazzled Guiscard gazed around upon The shadowy glories of his lady's room ; Subdued light from the silver sconces shone O'er the rich arras, where Avith spur and' plume Knights rode to battle ; delicate perfume Hung over all, and jewels manifold, Rare skins of beasts, and vessels of chased gold Lay here and there ; curtains of Tyrian dye, Stiff with dead gold, half hid a dim alcove ; Holiest of holies was that sanctuary. The very temple and abode of Love ; White foam of lace o'erflowed the sheets thereof, The vallances were heavy with brocade, And o'er the bed two carven Cupids played. Couches, wherein the weary limbs sank deep. And tiny tables curiously inlaid. Bearing rare wines, and many a luscious heap Of costly fruits from far-off climes conveyed (For him by Ghismond's own fair hands arrayed). All met his eyes, more dazzled than before. As to a couch his burden sweet he bore. POEMS AND SONNETS. 23 He chafed her hands with loving tenderness, He kissed her cheeks and pale lips tenderly ; With reverent care he loosened her dress. And started when his happy hand set free A rose-tipped globe of living ivory — And she revived, and trembling with surprise To see, blushed ruddily and hid her eyes. Around her waist he flung impetuous arms, Her own closed soft and warm about his head j His lips clung bee-like to those honeyed charms Of fragrant mingled roses white and red — Ne'er had so fair a bee so fair a bed ! Oh, Eve, stretch forth thine hand! — the fruit is sweet. Oh, Adam, fear thou nothing ! Take, and eat ! The silk slipt from her shoulders bright and bare. As from a bud^s rent sheath the flower out- grew. And from its heavy coils broke loose her hair. And fell about her, clothing her anew. His ravenous kisses thrilled her through and through. His veins beat maddening music in her ear — And her veins answered it for him to hear. 24 • STORM-DRIFT : And to their eyes the chamber lights waxed dim. And the Kight o'er them closed her pinions wide, And Passion's chalice bubbled to the brim, And two months touched the intoxicating tide. Fall — fall ye curtains and their pleasure hide ! Close o'er them now — close o'er them, Idndly Night, Prolong thy silent reign and their delight. Let no eye see and no tongue tell their bliss, Nor e'en the muse their happiness profone ; Sacred be each embrace, each sigh and kiss, Each tender tear as pleasure turns to pain, 0, kindl}- Night, prolong thy silent reign O'er the blue bay and o'er the summer sea. And still Salerno sleeping peacefully. Now up Salerno's hill Avith regal pride, Strode night's fierce conqueror the jealous day, Who found those lovers sleeping side by side, As children who are weary of their play. He smote on Guiscard's eyes, and cried, "^ Away !" In his dull ear, whereat he did upstart. And she too woke, and knew 'twas time to part. POEMS AND BONNETS. 25 •" Farewell, sweet love," he said, a little space; " Kow must I forth, but 1 shall come to thee Again and often." — Her fair, sleep-llushed face He kissed, and by the secret door did flee ; While in soft pillows sunk luxuriously She lay 'twixt sleep and waking. Even so Their joy began which after worked their woe. I tune my lute no more to Love's soft note ; Exceeding sorrowful doth grow my song. Even as that from Philomel's sweet throat, "Who aye complaiueth of the Thracian wrong ; Alas, delight is short and pain is long. Sweetest delight o'erpast is soon forgot. But pain writes dee^Der on the heart God wot. "^TOW that the long-sought haven is well won On winged feet the days delicious pass. While o'er Salerno shines the incessant sun From out a heaven that glows like burnished brass ; Now is their pleasure perfect, and, alas. 26 STORM-DRIFT : Now is their ruin near. We fools of fate Snatch keenest joy while opens HelPs hot gate. And few are happy as were then those twain Through the long languid days and too brief nights ; Alas, keen pleasure ever turns to pain, And no long time last such extreme delights ; Comes dull Satiety or fierce Fate smites ; Love is torn from us, or we fail in love. And like a cloud dissolves the web we wove. How oft Guiscard unto the thicket went On Love's dear errand, boots not now to say ; Awhile they had great pleasure and content, Were scarce an hour apart by night or day ; And 'stead of waning their love waxed alway. Till Fate grew envious and wrought them wrong — Speed on — speed on to sorrow, 0, my Song ! Prince Tancred was a father wise and fond. And in his heart held nothing half so dear As his proud daughter, beautiful Ghismond ; In all his court she had no single peer For beauty, virtue, wisdom, counsel clear ; Yea, she was now the one remaining ray That shone upon his lonely deathward way. POEMS AND SONNETS. 27 And Gliisraond loved her doting father well, And humoured him with all a woman's art ; Patiently listened, langhed to hear him tell The old stories she had known for years by heart ; In all his joys and sorrows bore her part, In health would cheer him, and in sickness tend ; Was daughter, nurse, companion, and friend. And in the council-hall they knew her skill ; Clear thought^ swift tongue, and ready wit to^ aid. Flashing through wordy gordian knots at will By statecraft's lies and sophistries unstayed, Like the all-conquering Macedonian's blade ; Till every bafiled sage and courtier old The impending ruin of the State foretold. Whereat Prince Tancred smiled and trembled, not. And in the smile dissembled his disdain. But when his councillors grew hoarse and liot^ And spoke together, wrangling amain, Saying the same thing o'er and o'er again. And to no purpose, addled one and all, He oft would leave the noisy council-hall. 28 STOKM-DRIFT : And seek her chamber, that her womau^s wit Might set the locked wheels of the State astir ; Thus one unlucky noon, so chanced it, He slept while in her chamber waiting her, But woke at length, to hear some silken stir Of garments — Ghismond came, and following hard (Sure he slept still I) his messenger, Guiscard. So undisturbed till now had been their love The J had grown bold with safety, so they passed. Murmuring and kissing unto the alcove. . . . Returned Prince Tancred to the hall at last, And seeing him the grey beards gazed aghast; His blazing eyes saw nought his cheek was white As death — they clustered round him in afiright. " Break up the council ! Nay, I crave your grace — Lords, leave me now ; send here my chamber- lain/' Then up and down the hall he 'gan to pace, As one struck suddenly with mortal pain, But spake no more, wherefore the lords were fain To do his bidding, and to leave him so, Deeming him mad, and prophesying woe. POEMS AND SONNP]TS. 29 Alone, he cried but once upon liis child, In a strang-e voice and great, and stood and gazed As at that sight again that drove him wild ; So came his chamberlain and found him mazed,. Gazing at nought as one by sorrow crazed. With clenched hands and blazing bloodshot eye, And foaming lips that wj'ithed in agony. " Know'st thou Guiscard, my messenger? Him seize — Have bound, and bring him hither silently ; Let those who do this bidding hold their peace, And do it speedily and secretly. Depart — I wait here till he come to me ;— Ah, God that all the Torturer's power to pain Worn out on him covild purge my daughter's stain." And so as Guiscard rose from underground. His lij)s 3^et warm with Ghismond's farewell kiss. Upon a sudden he was seized and bound, And in the thicket heard swords round him hiss From many a scabbard. — '' Sirs, what thing is this Ye do ? " he asked ; whereto there came reply — " Speak once again, Sir Messenger, and die.-* }} 30 STORM-DKIFT : Then from the thicket rapidly they sped. Unto the Castle thorough secret ways, " I have lived my life, and I shall soon be dead, Yet till Death comes I will not cease to praise God for my lady and my lady^s grace ; I care not what they do in my despite — I have had ten men^s portion of delight," He thought, as to the Prince they brought him in, And then departing left him shackled there. *' Lie not to me, for I have seen thy sin, Thou mongrel hound — thou dog, the gutter's heir — Thus curs like thee requite their master's care. Hell holds no devil damned so foul as thou — Nay, speak not, or by heaven I'll slay thee now ! " -*'■ Yea — I would speak wert thou the King of Hell," He answered, with firm lips and calmest voice ; ^'And thou may'st kill me, but thou canst not quell My steadfast soul with curses or with noise ; A "reater Prince I serve — I have made choice 'Of a more powerful King ; thou'rt proud and high — Love is as far above thee as the sky. POEMS AND SONNETS. 31 " And him I serve, and I go fearless hence. Into the grave-pit opening for me now. Saluting thee with humblest reverence, Yet looking to a juster judge than thou For pardon, though unto thy doom I bow. Farewell, 0, all fair things, all joy, all mirth — Unto thy bosom I return, Earth ! " Farewell, Love, nntil before God's throne In sight of holy heaven we twaiu shall stand. Then I will speak and claim thee for mine own. And God's sweet mother shall give me thy hand." " To the dungeon with him,'' rang the fierce command ; " Out of my sight, or I shall stain my sword With his vile blood, and cheat the hangman's cord." They took him thence fearless and blithe and bold. And strangled him in prison before the day ; Sweet Ghismond waited till her heart grew cold, And wept the long and lonely night away Because he came not ; on the earth he lay With blackened face turned to the dawn-lit sky ; — Ah, what can lovely Ghisniond now but die ? 32 STORM-DRIFT : At tlie first light tlie wretched Tancred came Unto his daughter. — " Kiss me not," said he ; *' 0, crolden head weighed down with sin and shame — 0, rosebud lips polluted shamfull}- — 0, best-loved child, my life because of thee Is all grown worthless^ and I loathe the sun — Hear now, and shrink to hear what thou hast done. "Thou hast mixed thy royal blood with blood most base. Making a menial thy paramour ; Thou hast marred mine eve of life with foul dis- grace. My happiness is done, m}' peace is o'er, And I can raise my head 'mong men no more ; I gave thee life, and all my love I gave^ Thou bringest me with sorrow to the grave." ** My father," s.iid she, " for thy grief I grieve, For what thou call'st my shame I here praise God; Menial or no menial, I believe A man more royal than Guiscard ne'er trod. Hast thou slain him ? — then turn on me thy rod ; If thou hast shed his blood mine also shed, For I will live no more when he is dead. POEMS AND SONNETS. 33 " Thy silken courtiers and thy puppet lords Thou and the tailor mad'st — if men they be — Guiscard God knighted, not with tap of swords On shoulder-knots, and ' Else Sir Knight/ as ye, But with great Nature's own nobility Of soul and heart. Do with me as thou wilt ; If guilt there were then mine was all the guilt. ''■ Yet spare Guiscard — to see my face no more — To live in banishment far, far away. 0, slay him not ! — Think what life hath in store For one so young before his dying day ! Me shalt thou have to manacle or slay ; — Thou gavest me life — 'tis little joy to live ; What made life lovely, that did Guiscard give." " It is well done " he said — " 'tis worn this heart That has these many years been thine alone, It serves no longer — 'tis a noble part To break the battered shell when thou hast grown To have a suppler armour of thine own. My heart 'gainst Guiscard's "—sudden brake his voice — " Now thou hast made, and thou shalt have thy choice." D 34 STOEM-DKIFT : And straightway -went he forth and gave com- mand That they from Guiscard's corpse the lieart should tear ; In a golden cup he sent it to her hand, With message what she loved most was there : " Too truly spake my spirit of despair. Yet, O lost love ! " she cried, '' a fitting shrine Is this rich cup for such a heart as thine ! "In all the world there beats no heart like this, Nor shall again now it is still for aye, And emptied of its love and cold to kiss ; How fast I felt it throb when here it lay Upon my bosom only yesterday ; And mine throbs yet as then — 0, heart of stone, I'll still thee now since thou canst beat alone." A deadly poison in the cup she pour'd ; " My Guiscard, a last health I pledge to thee. I come to join thee, O, my love — my lord — Where'er in heaven or hell thy soul may be ; There is no other happiness for me." Therewith she drank, and, clasping to her breast The heart she loved, lay down as if to rest. POEMS AND SONNETS. 35 And so a maiden sought the Prince and told With tears how that her mistress was distraught. And ever nursed and kissed a cup of gold Until they deemed her brain was overwrought. Then Tancred, shaken bj a fearful thought, Hurried unto her chamber, where she lay Upon the bed, and nursed the cup alway. "What hast thou done, my daughter? — I re- pent — Thou art even now, my child — mine only one — And I forgive thee." ''What, dost thou lament So soon this deed that thou thyself hast done ? Nay, 1 forgive thee. Child, thou now hast none ; I go to meet my love, Guiscard," she cried. And pressing his heart to her own she died. Thus ended both their pleasure and their pain. As all men's pain and pleasure end ere long ; And in one grave Prince Tancred laid the twain ; "Love is a king than earthly kings more strong. And I," he said, " will no more do him wrong, Lest when I die I see not Mary's face, Nor God's bright throne, nor gain the happy- place." 36 STORM-DRIFT : Now, for the souls of these two lovers dead, And for all Christian souls, I pray you pray r May we meet coming Death with no more dread. And love as well and die as true as they. Sung is my song, there is no more to say : Our Lady give them peace now all is done. And save us all and bring us to her Son. rOEMS AND SONNETS. 37 THE JOURNEY'S END. 1. rriHE old man chirps oii the settle. Cheerily chirpeth he. Tells the old tales to his wife, Says he's been htippy in life. And boasts of his youthful mettle. To the grandson on his knee. He was a gay young fellow. Loved by the lasses all ; He has had frolic and fun. And now it is over and done. Age hath but made him mellow, Ripe and ready to fall. 2. The old man watches the shadows. Silently watches them grow : His wife lies under the mould. And the old tales rest untold ; And the children jilay in the meadows. And the young men reap and sow. 38 STORM-DRIFT : 3. The old man preaches and proses, He cowers o'er the fire and mourns ; His life grows joyless and dim ; Nobody listens to him ; And youth is wreathing its roses, And manhood plaiting its thorns. He whimpers the world is dreary ; His heart is heavy and sad; Would God he might join his wife ! He has had no pleasure in life ; And now he is sick and weary, And men and women are bad. There is always mucb to fret him ; It's sad to live and to see How wicked the whole world grows ! They wish him dead he knows— And the children all forget him, Or cannot let him be. What are the young folk doing? They are over merry and bold, They used to be sober and staid, They are sadly changed he's afraid ; They are dancing and kissing and wooing,. Working and getting gold. POEMS AND SONNETS. 39 They seem to have too much leisure, He had to slave for his bread : Nought's as it used to be, They all know better than he ; He is only spoiling their pleasure — He creeps away to bed. 4. The old man smiles in his slumber, At morn he doth not wake; He lies with a tranquil brow, Happy and peaceful now. Free from all care and cumber, In the sleep no morn shall break . 40 STOini-DRIFT ACROSS THE RIVER. Dedicated to the Memory of Ebenezer Jones, Author of " Studies of Sensation and Events r 1 1TIOU knewest all ! the strenuous endeavour, The hope, the fear, the passion, and the pain — The wild unrest that urges forward ever — The bonds, the bits, and bridles that restrain ; Thou, having wings, didst wear through life a chain ! pale my brother, from Life's roaring strand 1 send thee tears and love across Death's river ; I, who have tracked thy footprints in Time's sand And o'er thy living pages, was most fain To clasp thy living hand. A Titan chained, his chains and chainers scorning For ever — though the vulture tore his breast — With wide undaunted eyes that met the morning, And brow that would have worn the conqueror's crest. 0, sorely tortured heart, and kindliest ! rOEMS AND SONNETS. 41 Hardly entreated brother ! — fearless, stronj^ — And thine own griefs alone of all unmourning ; O, free for ever now from woe and wrong, In the great mother's bosom take thy rest. And slumber deep and long. Thy suffering all is o'er — thou wilt not waken, Nor shall m}^ singing lull thy dreamless head ; And that high heart shall never more be shaken At all the bitterness, and shame, and dread. Wherewith man's table hath by man been spread On this our earth ; nor shalt thou ever more, In words that burn, mourn all high aims forsaken For lust of gold ; thy suffering is o'er ; But thou yet speakest, brother, being dead. And still thy song doth soar. Still rings the clarion of thy exultation Over all beauty of body and of soul. And still the trumpet of thy indignation Shatters the close air like the thunder's roll. Fearless, and loving fearlessly the whole, And hating fearlessly, I hear thee now, As they heard not of thine own generation. Who yoked a winged horse to drag a plough. And 'stead of laurel and of aureole Twined thorns about thy brow. 42 STOEM-DRTFT : O flower that flourished in a barren garden, Swept by the bitter winds of blighting' creeds, And smitten of the frosts of faiths that harden. Wither and blast all blossoms, slay all seeds Of love or pity for poor human needs, Poor human wrongs and failures — from iron clods Didst thou draw love to live by, grace to pardon, Courage to loose the cords and break the rods Whereto they bound thee, and to curse their deeds, And to defy their gods. Gods made in their own image, bare of beauty. And hating beauty, bodiless and void ; Ascetic voices shrieking that man's duty Is to renounce whate'er may be enjoyed ; That Love was given us to be destroyed ; Fair flesh to tempt us and to put to shame Immortal souls to be the Devil's booty ; Because God doomed them from the first to flame. That the Elect in gladness unalloyed May praise His holy name. Such gods were not for thee to praise or pray to — Thou wouldst not owe thy soul to such as these. A higher heaven thou wouldst win thy way to. Undreamed in their fanatic fantasies. Thou couldst not rest in slothful selfish peace. POEMS AND SONNEI'S. 45 And watcli thy fellows pass to the quenchless fire, And hug thy soul in safety. Had not they, too, All these, though heavy laden, foul with mire, Like beasts of burden^ souls that could not cease, But must fall or aspire ? And thy heart sank awhile as gazing round thee. Thou saw'st the world one gory battle-field ; Then thou didst struggle with the chains that bound thee. And long for knightly spars, and spear, and shield. Feeling thy strength, and seeing half-revealed Visions of glory never to be won ; Tor that cursed city mill to powder ground thee, Bone, brain, and sinew — hope or help was none. Yet, brave one, thou didst neither cry nor yield, Nor flee till life was done. Though the world's howl rang in thy ears like thunder, Drowning thy songs, though critics snarled and bayed ; Though like the Spartan thou concealed'st under Thy garment a fierce beast that on thee preyed ^ Though harnessed captive to the car of Trade, — Our modern Juggernaut— yea, though at last 44 ijTORM-DRIFT : Body and soul of thee were torn in sunder By sorrow and sickness, thou till life was past Remained^st quick to succour, strong to aid, And more than conqueror wast. Too late alike my j^raises and my pity ; Thou sleepest soundly, it is well with thee. But the wind brings the hoarse voice of the city Across the darkening fields to-night to me, Like the dull thunder of a distant sea When the tide tramples inland, and meseems I, piping here alone mj mournful ditty. Or dredging there with men Pactolian streams. Am utterly one strong soul in sympathy With thee and with thy dreams. I shall not lie beneath a cloudless heaven What time the great sun blazes in the blue. Body and spirit to supineness given, Feeling the summer drench my whole being through. But with the birds^ songs thine shall haunt me too. When on Love's living pillow rests my head. And Love and I for victory have striven, Then with thy song shall Love be vanquished, And with our myrtle we thy grave will strew. And give thee praise, Dead ! POEMS AND SONNETS. 45 But most when burns the heart at man's oppres- sion, The omnipotence of gold, the racks and chains Of custom and convention, the transgression That is rewarded — the foul wronof that reisrns, — O then thy resonant voice shall thrill mj veins And steel my sinews to resist and dare — To weary man's hard heart with intercession, To scale the utmost heights of heaven with prayer. To fight the day through —yea, though daylight wanes. To rest not neither spare. Thy muse was silenced ere had come the sweet- ness And the clear calm of strength and power serene ; But she was shod with fire and winged with fleet- ness, And clothed with courage, and the rest had been. Yea, men had kneeled to her and crowned her queen. And writ thy name high up among thy i^eers— The lords of song ; but Fate denied completeness, And the blind fury with the abhorred shears Cut thy life's thread, and the grave hid unseen The promise of thy years. 46 STOEM-DEIFT : So work inscrutable the giant Forces, Making and marring even as tbey will ; We cannot guide the planets in their courses. Nor yet by faith can move the smallest hill. We know not if the gods be good or ill, Lovely or hateful, only this we know, That we know nothing — neither ends nor sources Of all Life's streams, nor whence nor where thev flow, Nor yet why these their tedious miles fulfil. Those to swift darkness go. We fools and blind can only ease with weeping The o'er-tried hearts that else our wrongs would break ; Or with vain comfort, Lo, these dead are sleep- ing, And in the Morning Land they all shall walce. Oh, vain our longing, vain the moan we make ! We shall not change what is — be still — be brave — Some souls we know of those gone past our keep- ing Gods could not bend nor demons could deprave; Who have passed through life unspotted, for whose sake We dare defy the grave. POEMS AND SONNETS. 47 One such wast thou, whom failure, sickness, trouble, All ills that Fate could work, left kind and strong. Gentle and true, whose praise does therefore double The best reward that can be won by song. Thou victor in the old grim fight life-long ! A greener crown I deem is thine than theirs Whose song is soap wherewith to blow Fame's bubble ; Who sit like gods above mankind's dull cares. Saying: "We arc great — let earth go right or wrong, We list not hoiv it fares.^' They have sipped the wisdom of all lands and ages Till their brains reel and they grow drunk thereon ; They have wandered by Cephissus with the sages, They have trod the haunted slopes of Helicon With singing shadows beautiful and wan, Till the live Present seems common and unclean, Its ways and works unmeet for poets' pages. Though yet its skies are blue, its fields are green. And Life, and Death, and Love, and Hate whirl on Its skies and fields between. 48 STORM-DRIFT : They cleave clear air, fine birds of smoothest feather ; Sunward sublime on rhythmic wings they soar ; Others in storm and darkness and wild weather, Black clouds above, below the sea^s hoarse roar, With draggled plumage hardly win to shore ; T]ie sea gulfs many ; some few reach the land. And little breath have they to sing together — Poor wave-worn wanderers on a barren strand, Finding for all reward the journey o'er. Their graves dug in the sand. So sleepest thou in peace, life's tempest over ; And now, indeed, it matters not to thee Whether blown sea-sand thy poor corpse may cover, Or tons of sculptured ponderous porphyry. From care, and passion, and desire set free, At rest, above all blame, beyond all praise. And chainless evermore, thou true lover Of all things good and true through all thy days, Too late we scatter ^neath thy cypress tree — Too late, our laurel sprays. POEMS AND SONNETS. 49 Twined round thy living brow they had stirred with pleasure. Quickening the pulses of thy eager heart ; O prize above all others — hard-won treasure No gold can buy — unpriced upon the mart ! O public crown, the sole reward of art ! Ogood which all we worship more than gold. Or love, or life, and covet overmeasure ; Thou may'st make whole the sick, make young the old, But the stopped pulses thou canst never start Nor warm the brow deatli-cold. Therefore our praise is vain, our labour bootless. For this our brother is at peace and dead. He hath found an end of woe, of high hopes fruit- less. Of fierce ambition, aye unsatiated. Of hope with snakes for fishes, stones for bread, Of fear with ceaseless sting and gnawing lust. Of life whose joys and woes alike are rootless. Of long heart-sickness, weariness, mistrust. He hath found an end of all. Rest, rest tired head, Dust moulder unto dust. E 50 bTOKM-DElFT : Sleep in the eternal night that knows no morrow, No sick grey wretched dawn with tearful eyes, Kor dreams that torture the fagged brain and borrow The shapes made monstrous of day's miseries. Sleep on for ever, there is nought but dies. We too shall sleep the healing sleep with thee ; We too shall find an end of pain and sorrow ; And this sweet knowledge makes us bear to be. Kind Death shall free us — Death more blessed thrice Than Immortality. EoU on, rapid and resistless river. Outward, still outward, to the Sea and Night. O tideless tide of Time that turneth never, Whereon our poor lives gleam as foam-flakes white, Dear us out swiftly to the Infinite, To lose in that vast ocean's heave and swell These selves of ours for ever and for ever, Happy if we have left behind some spell Like his to move men ! Spirit true and bright. Hail, brave one, and Farewell. POEMS AND SONNETS. 61 TO LOUISE CHANDLER MOULTON. (With Ferses " On the Hillside." J /I^O forth, little flower of song, To her who found you fair ; After a winter black as nio-ht I plucked you when Spring's smile brought light, And April winds were blithe and strong. And Hope was in the air. Poor stray of Autumn left to Spring — I send you forth to be 'Twixt us a pledge of happier hours, — Yea, tho' she hath far fairer flowers Alway at hand for gathering, Go forth undoubtingly. For thou hast gained a happy jneed, And wert thou weed or worse, With her praise for a light above, Many should find thee fair and love, Tho' not for thine own sake indeed, But her sake, my verse. 52 STORM-DRIFT : Be flower or weed, and live or die. To me thou art more dear, Than all thy sister flowerets are, herald of the single star That rose upon the hell-black sky Of my most hopeless year. POEMS AND SONNETS. 53 ON THE HILL-SIDE. ~r\0 you remember the autumn nights On the side of the misty hill, Where by the wood we used to stand Long and lovingly hand in hand, While afar in the valley the city lights Made the mist sparkle and thrill ? And the dead leaves drifted wearily down. And lay as if glad to rest ; And the year lay dying, weak and still, •On the side of the misty autumn hill, But there in the valley the heart of the town Throbbed in its feverish breast. Like a lower world to our eyes it seemed 'Neath its cloudy pall of care, Loud with unlovely strifes and jars. Lighted only by lower stars Than those that over us blazed and beamed In a heaven of lucid air. 54) STORM-DRIFT I T)o you remember it now, my dear, On the side of the misty hill Where you lie so quiet, all day, all night, Through summer and winter and dark and light^. From day to day and from year to year Where you lie so cold and still ? Do you see the mist flash and quiver and throb With the stifled storm of the lights ? Do you feel the pialse of the city's heart Beating with feverish stop and start, Or hear in the trees the sad winds' sob Through the rainy autumn nights ? Nay, not a sight not a sound, my love, Comes to you where you lie. With sleep in your eyes and peace in your breast, Of all the city's weak wild unrest ; But I am a part of the heart thereof, A waif in the whirlpool, I. And I know 'tis a lower world as we deemed With lower stars for its lights ; And I fill my days with its stir and strife. And see the light no more in my life Of the stars that over us blazed and beamed In the long-gone autumn nights. POEMS AND SONNETS. 55 But T wait for the day to come, my dear, When I shall rise aad go To be with you on the misty hill, To sleep, to have peace, to rest and be still. The roar of the cit}' no more to hear And its sin no more to know. 56 STORM-DRIFT THE HERETIC-MARTYR. "T HAD struggled all day and failed, — to think I should win at last, When I deemed the battle was ended, and the chance of victory past ! When the fight that had raged so long was all grown dim as a dream. And the trumpet's clamour was silenced and darkened the armour's gleam ; "When the shield of my faith was shattered, and broken the sword of my trust. And the enemy trampled o'er me where I lay face down in the dust. Who could have thought I should rise, as I rise in triumph now, Clothed in the victor's purple with laurels upon my brow, And behold them scattered in fight who erstwhile over me trod, And feel on my breast truth's breastplate, in my bosom the peace of God. rOEMS AND SONNETS. 57 For I feel I am surely safe — yea I know the danger is o^er, They burn me to-morrow at daybreak, they will not tempt me more. It is all too late to be lost, if I would be 'tis all too late — They have solemnly cursed me and cjist me off, they have shut hell's gate. Thinking it heaven^s ; and now at last when the life-long fight is done, I have an hour of peace ere dawn to think of the victory won. I mind the battle's beginning in the old days long gone by, "When my boy's heart found too early that the God of the priests was a lie. And each truth snapt as I grasped it, till within me and without Was only clamour and chaos and the darkness of endless doubt. I mind the stress of the storm, when suddenly round me rose Prom the ambush whence they had Avatched me a thousand treacherous foes. 58 STORM-DRIFT : Cowards who work in the dark the stumbling feet to enmesh, Shame and desire and terror and the merciless lusts of the flesh ; And Love and her brother Hate with their black incestuous brood, Some sapping my spirit's strength, some draining my body of blood. And the frightened air one roar, and the echoing sky one fire, Till I felt my heart grow fainter, my muscles slacken and tire, And the storm of sound grew quiet, and a pall of darkness fell, And I swooned to waken captive to the powers of Death and Hell. I mind the years of my bondage, the foul and horrible dream, Swine and satyrs around me and Tophet's reek and steam : Till they cast me a worn-out servant from the fiery realm of Lust, And I woke to satiation and the sickness of disgust. POEMS AXD SONNETS. 59 To an empty earth and heaven, to a life that Lay- before, Like a blank and limitless desert or a sea without sail or shore ; Nor ever a goal before me, nor friends, nor hopes, nor fears, But I and my shadow only toiling- through age-long years ; With memory turned to a vulture eating my heart unseen, And a waste wind moaning ever of the things that might have been, A.nd a longing for Death that came not, a loathing of Life that stayed — A longing that nothing banished, a loathing that nought allayed. And a scorn of the madman's chatter, the irony bitter and grim — " God can save to the uttermost all that come unto Eim ; " His mercy endureth for ever, with wrong ye may fill you full — Though your sins be as scarlet they shall be white as wool." «60 STORM-DRIFT I Can ye cleanse a soul ^vitll water and wash out sins as a stain That have grown into flesh and sj)irit and are part of my blood and brain ? My virtues were foisted on me — were never wholly mine own — My sins were flesh of my flesh, my sins were bone of my bone. And there grew a clamour about me of sheep who followed the priests, This man denieth our God, nor heedeth our fasts and feasts, This man jeers at our worship, mocketh our heaven and hell, Saith that our preachers snare us, and have only lies to sell ; Let him die the heretic's death I Let him burn in the public square ! To-morrow at daybreak, said I, — the city will all be there. They summoned me to their council, they wove me their cursed wiles ; There was greed in their cheeks, and lust in their eyes, and deceit in their smiles, POEMS AND SONNETS. 61 And tliey tempted me priestly fashion witli the good they had to give, "Acknowledge ns now," they urged me, "bow to our God and live. " Think what thou wilt but speak not, it is easy to live a lie ; ^' And I cursed the pestilent vermin, and defied their God and die. And lo, as I spake the words that doomed me to death, there fell On my life a light out of heaven to lighten the blackness of hell. And the shadow of darkness vanished that had lain so long on my soul, And the black and bitter j)ast was rolled away like a scroll ; And the weariness cleared like a mist from the face of the smiling hours, And the deathward path before me laughed with a light of flowers. For the idol of Self was shattered as at the thunder's stroke. And over its blasted fragments the splendour of morninLi: broke. 62 STORM-DKIFT : The morning that hideous idol had veiled from mj ej'es so long, That touched my forehead with fire, and my lips with Memnon's song. And showed me the way of peace wherein I was fain to tread. And whereby I might enter unshamed the holy halls of the Dead, And sleep with the sinless sleepers, sinless and pure as they, The stain of my wretched life purged by the fire away With the worthless body it clung to, and I by burning and ban Seal me for ever and ever on the side of freedom and man, On the side of all the oppressed, all weak and down-trodden things, 'Gainst the lying priests and their gods, the courts and their bloody kings. Wherefore my heart is light and my spirit is not afraid. For I shall not pass to the vengeance of a fiend that men have made, POEMS AND SONNKTS. 63 And worshij), and call it God; but e'en as a drop of rain That fVills alone to the earth, but rises ere long again, And beconieth a part of the cloud, so shall I pass and be Reabsorbed into life eternal, a part of the air and the sea, And the light and the night and the blossom and the insect that feedeth thereon, But never again these atoms be brought together as one. All hail to the One Physician who could cure my soul's disease. Praised be the only God who could give me rest and peace. Praised be the Great Deliverer ! Praised be the King of Kings ! Praised be great Death that cometh with healing on his wings ! Praised be the foes who gave me when hope had so long gone by The heavenly help of their hate, and so goodly a death to die ! G4 STOKM-DRIFT : For lo in the ages to come the chosen children. of liyht, Heretics, rebels, and outcasts, shall brace their souls for the fight Bj the telling of this day's story, and the fire that consumeth me Shine as a terror to princes and priests whereso- ever they be. Hark! a hand at the bolt, and a gathering roar and hum. And the tramp of the soldiers' feet, and the hurrying roll of the drum. And T pass to die into life, and I go forth chained and free In the glorious blood-red dawn of a day I shall not see. POEMS AiND SONNETS. 65 LIGHT LOVE, LjlOR a little or a long time, A life-time or a song-time, How shall Love endure Love betvvixen you and me ? Who shall say ? we dare not ! Still we laugh and spare not. And still we kiss and care not whatever things may be. For years go on and over, And lover loosens lover, And lives that love once sheltered, lie bare to wind and rain ; From out a golden measure We drink the wine of pleasure. To taste the lees at leisure of bitterness and pain. For you and me it may be. Erelong shall that grim day be 66 STOKM-DRIFT : When all the wine is drunken, and but the lees remain. Then not a moment stay, sweet, But cast the cup away, sweet, The dregs — the dregs are they sweet that either should complain? Tie youth and truth together In how £0 strong a tether. Yet they shall break the bondage, and each from other fly. Let no vow pass between us, The gods from bondage screen us ! We worship laughing Venus ; her girdle be our tie ! Ours is no wild beginning Of loving and of sinning. We have known them all aforetime each passion and desire. And all were sweet as this is. With days and nights of kisses, Tho' no flame leaps or hisses where once was nought but fire. Yet tho^ thus far we're free, love, A bitter thing maybe, love, POEMS AND SONNETS. &7 And this light tie may tighten and strengthen to a chain ; And soon the days shall borrow Sick weariness and sorrow, Without a light to-morrow to set us free again. 'Tis well to love but little ; 'Tis well the bond be brittle; "Tis well to love too manj, but not to love too much; And tender vows once spoken. Are best forgot and broken ; And here's a song for token this tie shall break at touch. 68 STORM-DRIFT THE BALLAD OF THE HAUXTED GLADE. T WAS brave and young and my kin among, Their joy, their hope, their pride, I yearned for strife and a hirger life, I knew the workl was wide. I was young and brave, yet my kin looked grave,. Tho' they would not say me nay ; *' Go forth," they said, " God guard thy head, God save thy soul alway." I thought 'tis ill, but I drink ni}' fill Of the wide world's stored delight — Of pleasure and wine, and of love divine, Of tourney and of fight, And blazon with fame our ancient name, And prove me God's own knight. My kinsmen cried, " The world is wide," Wagged each a snowy head. They said " Beware, there is many a snare ; Beware, beware ! " they said. They blessed me then those grave old men, And T laughed and turned and fled. rOEMS AND SONNETS. 69 T sallied forth, and the wind blew north, But Spring had breathed on the lea, And over the sod my charger trod, As though he was proud of me; The villagers' cheers rang in my ears, And I bowed right graciously. Merry and gay I rode away, Under a gladsome sky. There rang in my brain a martial strain, My heart with hope beat high ; And Spring was rife with the pride of life, And promise of victory ; And birds made love in the trees above, And triumphed o'er winter done. Singing unseen in the golden green Of leaves shot through with sun ; My shield flashed bright in the joyous light — I deemed its blazon won. In the forest shade that night I prayed To God with high desire, " Try me,^^ I cried, '' as silver is tried. Yea, prove my soul with fire. I am Thy knight, I am strong to smite. Strong in Thv cause to die ! " 70 STORM-DETFT I And methougbt there swept, or ever I slept, O'erhead a mingled cry, As of revellers shouting where feast is kept. For some great victory. I woke, and lo, the forest did glow With a strange unearthlv light, And a weird wild song, most sweet and strong, Swept down the aisles of night. My charger heard, for his ears he stirred, And then he stirred no more ; And I grasped my sword, and prayed the Lord, As I had not prayed before. The birds o'erhead seemed daft with dread. That wondrous song to hear ; Through the trembling grass each insect fled, As the strange wild voice drew near ; And my strong young heart like a girl's did start, Yea, pale I grew and cold . And there came a maid down the woodland glade, With hair of the sun's own gold. Its wondrous light made the forest bright Asa summer sun did shine ; Her white throat stirred with the song I heard, That thrilled my veins like wine. POEMS AND SONNETS. 71 I laughed at my fear when she drew near, And her beauty smote my sight. An angel of heaven I deemed her. iriven Unto God's chosen knight. O strange and wild was the smile she smiled, And my sword fell at my feet ; Her soft arms wound my body round, Her lips to mine were sweet ; And at the bliss of that burning kiss, At touch of that shining hair. With a great desire my blood took fire. And I scarce heard in the air The night wind's sigh, as it wandered by With a murmur of " Beware ! ^' And the toil and pain that were passed seemed vain^ And the world without too wide, And one hour's rest on her perfect breast, Worth life and all beside ; And a man's own soul seemed a beggar's dole. Wherewith to win such a bride. Aye, well I know, had Tseen this woe, God opening my eyes, From above come thunder, or hell oped under, I had done none otherwise, Than there in the deep and eerie sleep Of that forest of mysteries. 72 STOEM-DRIFT : Tlirongli the magical light of that one sweet night. In the haunted glade we lay ; But the ladj paled, and the strange light failed. At the first f;iint beam of day ; And then, with a scream that shattered mj-- dream. She rose and vanished away. I oped my eyes with a wild surj^rise ; Methought I had long been dead, For the green turf broke either side as 1 woke. And struggled to rais(3 my head ; From the broken mould the fat worms rolled. They had thrived and fattened there ; I wrecked the house of the mailed woodlouse, And a wild bird flew from my hair; Over my face in the noisome j)lace. Insects most foul did flee, I lay like a stone in the wood alone. And the lichen covered me. I cried aloud from my earthy shroud, None answered though I ci'ied ; But I wrenched me free in my agony, And sought for my gold-liaired bride. Close to my hand lay a rusted brand, And a charger's bones beside. POEMS AND SONNETS. 73 I searched each spot, but I fouad her not, I found her never again ; When I called her name hut an echo came, And plashing of dreary rain ; And I grew too weak any njore to seek, But I wandered on and on, Till I left the gloom of the forest of doom, Weeping her dead and gone. I stayed to look in a wayside brook, I saw no gallant knight — But a corpse, re-risen from its foul prison. Earth-soiled, dull-eyed and white. I journeyed back, and the trees were black. Their branches all were bare, Through the woods there rang, with their clash and clang, Winter's cry in the air ; When I came again to the haunts of men, There were none who knew me there. My kin were laid in the churchyard shade. From their hearts grew many a weed ; Each carven cross was covered with moss, Their names were hard to read ; And I knew my day had passed away. And my life was ruined and done, No spring for me any more should be, Nor any summer or sun ; 74 STORii-Duirr : For the phantom Maid of the Haunted Glade Has wrought her curse on me ; But to God I pray, both night and day, For Death to set me free. Too weak for fight, and no more a knight, I kneel before the Cross ; T have been tried as silver is tried, The fire has proved me dross. By my first foe I was smitten low. With my own pride distraught ; Vanquished I fell, and struck no blow, Was conquered ere I fought; Proved in the fire at my vain desire, My soul consumed to nought. I will go to my kin, and purge my sin. In the dark soul-healing grave, When God shall take, for His marcy's sake. The life in wrath He gave ; For never a man in this life's span, Shall save his soul from hell, Who has met the Maid of the Haunted Glade, And fallen under her spell. But God above of His endless love. To such these words hath given — '' After thousand years of travail and tears. Ye shall serve my saints in heaven." POEMS AND SONNETS. 75- Wherefore I wait at Death's grim gate, To hear its hinges move. That through long pain I at last may gain God's pardon and Christ's love. Here all men shun the Accursed One, And cross themselves, and pray. When I pass b}^, and the maidens fly, And the children leave their play. God may forgive, but while I live. Never I know will they. And oft I hear with a deadly fear. Though I know them a cursed lie. Words raising a doubt I can cast not out, Men say I shall never die ; But in age and shame bear this wretched frame. Thorough all Eternity. The young and old are laid in the mould. They slumber alike in peace ; The fair and brave go down to the grave. Their pleasures and sorrows cease ; I — only I— 0, my God Most High ! I — only I — die not ! Wilt thou torture indeed through Eternity ? Or am I indeed forgot ? 7Q STORM-DRIFT : A NOCTURNE AT TWILIGHT. rn HE broken lights flow in — Tlie broken lights flow in — And tlie notes flow out, flow out ; Life with its sorrow and sin, Death wdth its endless doubt; And the same old wearj din Goes on in the street without. But the soul of the twilight sings — The soul of the twilight sings — And I hear the din no more But a sound as of laughing springs ; A murmur of waves on the shore. And upward on rhythmic wings Doth the mounting melody soar. The rippling notes arise — The rippling notes arise — Meseems somewhere afar In depths of sunset skies Shines many a silver star O'er a sea that moans and sighs To be where the pale stars are. POEMS AND SONNETS. 11 But the mounting melody fails — The mounting- melody fails — Or ever the goal is won ; The starshine sickens and pales Over the sunken sun ; The twilig-ht alone prevails. But the twilight's soul is gone. And the broken lights flow in — The broken lights flow in — And the white hands leave the keys ; So, ere they well begin. End all life's melodies ; And again arises the din Outside that shall never cease. 78 STORM-DRIFT I A LAST LETTER. T COME from wandering long In paths of woe and wrong, Once more, with one more song. To sing to thee. Thou who took'st all my lays Of worship once and pniise. Thou who in these last days Art lost to me. And tho' I sing again, T sing not now as then, When hearts were young and when Love made earth heaven ; There sounds within my ears The voice of awful years, I sing as one who hears His sentence given. Death, death in some brief span ; Yet strives as strive ho can To bear him as a man Till death shall come ; POEMS AND SONNETS. 79 To face each mocking eye, To climb the scaffold hiefh. Unshaken, and to die Defiant, dumb. Yea, this at least njan may At ending of his day. Tread with firm steps his way, And shrink no more; And no more mourn or weep. For rest is near, and sleep Under the darkness deep That lies before. There all the wrong is done, And blame and praise are one ; His shame no more the sun Shall show to men. Silent and still he lies With quiet closed eyes ; He shall not dream or rise. Or sin agfain. o' And I — I am but dead, Tho' heart aches yet and head, Lo near my easeless bed On lightest wingf 80 STORM-DEIFT : The glad birds come aud go, Mid white and crimson snow, On orchard trees that grow Green with tlie spring. I watch them all day long. And listening to their song, The woe, the loss, the wrong. Fade far away ; Eonnd me fast falls the night, But they taste full delight ; They revel in the bright And joyous day. I see the dawn of spring. But e'er its evening Nor bird nor song nor wing, Kor e'en thy tread. Nor love nor hate nor lust, Nor man nor God, I trust. Shall stir again my dust, Or wake me, dead. I have done ill [ know. And lying lone and low. Backward my mind will go To olden days. POEMS AND SONNETS. 81 When thou wast all mine own, And the ill to come unknown, Yea, l}'ing low and loue^ I see thy face. I have done ill to thee, Lost love, because of me Thy life was doomed to be Of love bereft; And to myself done ill. With wild and headstrong will. And drunk of life my fill, Death's dvec^s are left. These, too, I drink ei'e long- And finisli life and wrong. Yet sing one last poor song Before I go ; Not craving thy pardon, dear, But singing, Be of cheer. Dying he lieth here Who wrought thee woe. Dying, alone and young, A stranger folk among ; Dying, his songs half sung. His name unknown. G 82 STOKM-DEIFT I Feeling death's bitterest sting. Dying at dawn of spring, ■\Vlien life fills everything, Dying alone. Thou art avenged and free. Lost love, go forth and be Happy, nor think of me, Kor of the past. Only know this that I, "When came my time to die. Lost love, thought lovingly Of thee at last. POEMS AND SONNETS. 83 AT HAWTHORNDEN. TT7HERE the bard of Plawthoriiden Wandered once with rare old Ben, Up the lovely leafy glen In the summer weather, •Chance companions of a day Soon to part and pass away, Haply ne'er to meet again, Wandered we together. Wandered lightly free from care, Both being young and one being fair, And summer's ponij) being everywhere. Around, above, and under. Spirits of the immortal dead. How your words rang in my head ! •0 unknown maiden with me there Of what thouglit you I wonder ? 84 STORM-DEI FT : A slender form in sober guise, A grave sweet face, clear truthful eyes. Whereto sometimes demure surprise My rhythmic raving summoned. After we parted I was ware, Too late, that you were very fair, And full of subtle witcheries Worth Jonson and worth Drumraond, POEMS AND SONNETS. 85 A PICTURE. {Hope nursing Love, hy Sir J. Reynolds.) "TjllT nurse for Love art thou, Whose pictured face e'en now Hath such a nameless charm. Were I that hapi^y Love That thou dost bend above, And circle with thy arm; Were mine as his lips prest Upon thy bare sweet breast. Didst thou smile on me so, All future hope to dwell On beds of asphodel, And drink ambrosia with the gods methinks I could forego ! Thy breast had flowers to smell Sweeter than asphodel ; Ambrosia was thy breath, Delicious lips and e^^es. There wakes a dim surprise That the weak soul should rise. But these be food for Death. S6 STORM-DRIFT I Painter, I give thee praise For this fair woman^s face, Saved from the past for me. Time thou hast vanquished here, But his revenge is near, Gaze and desire for aye, she will not care or see. There lurks a pang in this, Those lips can never kiss, Those eyes look love again ; That bosom fall or rise "With laughter or with sighs. With pleasure or with pain ; But still for ever there, Thou, so divinely fair, Shalt yet possess the power To set the blood on fire With exquisite desire. And envy of that boy face-deep in such a flower. POEMS AND SONNETS. 87 THE MARSHAL'S TRIUMPH. Thus achievamant lacks a gracious sotnowhat. Bkowning. T MIND when I was a beardless boj^ And my fortunes were low and my hopes were- I said, Could I have but a day of joy — One only day ere I come to die, And so bid pleasure a last good-bye. Not a single moment in thought I'd lose, I am so certain what I should choose. I would come a victor from fields afar Back to the land I had saved from the foe. There at the end of the glorious war Through the streets of tlu^ city in triumph go. With banners above and flowers below, And a surging and shouting crowd around, The air one tempest of joyous sound. 88 STOEM-DETFT : The houses one flame of crimson and gold, The windows ablaze with the starriest ej'es, AVhile the joy-bells rung, and my war-drums rolled. But both were drowned as I came in the cries That hailed me with names of my victories, And the vanquished foes and the taken towns. And my carriage was piled with the laurel crowns That were rained upon me all down the line Of my slow advance through the bellowing crowd, And the rose-hung fountains were spouting wine In the public squares, whence more deep and loud Eose the welcoming roar, and I bowed and bowed ; — And there my breath having failed me, I Left myself bowing most pitilessly. And he whom I spoke to shook his head. And laughed at my eager face and speech. Then spake some word of the mimeless Dead, Whom joy of triumph could never reach. Foes and friends huddled each by each On those fields of victory far away ; But I heeded little what he might say. POEMS AND SONNETS. 89 I had fallen in love with my own vain dream, I brooded over it oft and long', And fame and glory were all my theme ; To be feted in life and embalmed in song After death, to be great whether right or wrong. To be some way raised o'er the herd of men — These were the hopes made my whole life then. But to be as one of the common crowd, To eat, sleep, labour till death, and lie In the dust forgotten before my shroud Had time to moulder — let life go by Like a mere dull vrorm or a mere bright fly, And call this living ! Great Gods, I said, After such a life I could rest not dead ! Like a bi'idled charger I snuffed the strife. The sound of the shouting was in my ears, I stood at the edge of the storm of life, Heard its trumpets thunder, saw flash its spears. And sickened to challenge the tardy years And snatch their secret and know my fate; Should I die unknown, or live to be great ? 90 STOWM-DRIFT : And free at last to the fray, I sprang Mj war-cry " Glory/' and nou