14 3 9 A 17 \90 THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES SONNETS AND OTHER POEMS By the same Author. Outlines OF THE History of Religion. Crown 8vo. Price 3s. 6d. SONNETS ^^ AND OTHER POEMS BY JOHN K. INGRAM LONDON ADAM AND CHARLES BLACK 1900 Printed at the By Pon8o:jsy & Weudrick. PR T r PREFATORY NOTE. /^NL Y four of the Sonnets in the ;prese7it vohwic have been previously published, and two of them have since been slightly altered. The sonnets signed ' T. D. /.' are by Tho77ias Dunbar Ingram {son of the author of the other pieces 171 the volume), who, after a distingitished career ifi Trinity College, Dublin, died in South Africa, whither he had gone in search of health, at the age of twe?zty- five. The second series of son7iets will scarcely be fully understood without some ktiowledge of the writings of A uguste Comte, who is in several ^places spoken of as ' the Master.' I woicld earnestly recomm.end to all who read my verses the study of those writings — of, at least, the 'Catechisme Positiviste ,'' in the original or in Dr. Congr eve's translation, or of the ' General View of Positivism^ tra7islated by Dr. Bridges. 8S187G b PRE FA 2 OR Y NO TE. The ;poetn entitled 'The Memory of the Dead' was published in the 'Nation ' newspaper iji April, 184^, when I was in my twentieth year. That was the early period of the so-called Young Irelanders, whose policy, though deficient in sanity, was inspired by nobler feel- ings than have since, for the -most part, been matiifested i?i the public conduct of the Irish popular leaders. Their political projects were, as I soon saw, chimerical; but their action, though violent and precipitate, was not sordid or demoralizing. I never was a member of the group, but some of them were known to me, and I had one dear friend amongst them — Jolui [after- wards yudge) O^Hagaji. ' The Memory of the Dead ' was my 07ily contribution to the ^Nation.'' It has already been reprinted, with my name, in several col- lections of Irish verse. I have reproduced it here, though differing in character , as in date, from the other pieces i7i the volume, because some persons have believed, or affected to believe, that I am. ashamed of having written it, and would gladly, if I could, disown its azithorship. Those who know fne do not need to be told that this idea is without foundation. I think the Irish race should be grateful to 7nen who, in evil times, however mistaken may have been their policy, gave their lives for their country. But I have no sympathy PREFA TOR Y NO TE. ^ with those who preach sedition in our own day, when all the circumstances are radically altered. In my opinion no real popular interest caiz now be furthered by violence. The sonnet by the late Archbishop Irench has been printed in order to render intelligible the Ofie which follows it. Dublin, igoo. CONTENTS. PAGES I. -LOVE AND SORROW, . . . .11-33 II.— THE RELIGION OF HUMANITY, . . 35-64 UI.— MISCELLANEOUS 65-106 I. LOVE AND SORROW. LOVE AND SORROW. 13 DELGANY. Just ere the feet of her I loved the best Began to tread the thorny path of pain, We two, with all our joyous household train, Found in a Wicklow glen our summer rest. Sweet was our sojourn in that peaceful nest. The garden pleas'd us, and the stream that flow'd Beneath the thatch-roof'd cot, our quaint abode ; Not seldom, too, we hail'd some friendly guest. She lov'd the place, and often spoke its praise ; And then would I half-playfully repeat The words of Deirdr6, from a like retreat Forc'd to return to Erin's endless jars — * Sun kiss thee, moon caress thee, dewy stars Refresh thee still, dear scene of quiet days ! '* * The last two lines of this Sonnet are from Sir Samuel Ferguson's fine poem — Deirdre. SONNETS AND OTHER POEMS. II. THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW. Why should thy form upon the rack of pain — Thy delicate form — be stretch'd ? who ever true And tender wert, and pure as morning dew. On me, whose soul was black with many a stain, Which, but ill purg'd, would oft appear again, Till thy sweet influence did my life renew — On me, if justice some high Power could do, The doom were laid this bitter cup to drain. My burden is, that thine I cannot bear. Nightly I listen with love-quicken'd ears To the half-utter'd moan which thou would'st fain Wholly suppress, my tortur'd heart to spare ; Then is my pillow drench'd with silent tears- — Oh could they profit ! — but I weep in vain. LOVE AND SORROJV. 75 III. DANTEAN DREAMS. I. Poet supreme ! who leavest far behind In piercing gaze, in lofty flight and long, All winged Powers that haunt the heaven of song,- When she who was my pearl of womankind. Whose fingers from my soul had disentwin'd The tangling weeds of folly, pined in pain, Oft thy austere, yet tender-hearted strain Rais'd up and calm'd my downcast, troubled mind. When evening fell, th' immortal page I read That made thee lean, as grief had wasted me : Then came Dantean dreams about my bed, The Purgatorial mount I seem'd to see, Or Madeline my wondering spirit led Through happy fields, as Beatrice thee. i6 SONNETS AND OTHER POEMS. IV. DANTEAN DREAMS. II. Within the place where patient souls abide In hopeful suffering, — dead among the dead Methought T stood, and pray'd with bended head, When sudden shone an angel at my side, Who to my startled questioning glance replied— ' Because thou hast lov'd well, the Lord hath said It is His will that thou be comforted. Ask what thou wilt ; it shall not be denied.' ' Show me my saint — one moment, only one ! ' And lo ! an image, on cloud-canvas cast. Of a great company in robes of white. And 'mongst them she, with face divinely bright Upturn'd, adoring. Soon the vision pass'd ; But long I stood and gaz'd, though it was gone. LOVE AND SORROW. ly DANTEAN DREAMS. III. * But knew she that I saw her, Power benign ? ' Turning, I ask'd ; he answer'd — * When the light, That clothes a blessed one, glows doubly bright, Of some new joy is this the outward sign. The mirror of th' Intelligence Divine Shows her all good ; because she knew the grace That was vouchsafed thee, was it that her face Thou saw'st with such transcendent lustre shine.' * I thank thee, blessed Spirit ! ' I replied ; ' Now all is well ; I go with heart content My purgatorial suffering to abide. I shall rejoin her, when my term is spent.' The Angel smiled, then vanish'd from my side, And I address'd me to the steep ascent. J 8 SONNETS AND OTHER POEMS. VI. DANTEAN DREAMS. IV. Long, in that realm of pain that is not woe — The second, better kingdom of the dead Through which the mighty Florentine was led — Methought, like him, I travell'd from below, With patient heart, but feeble steps and slow. I pass'd the fiery fence, and reach'd the head Of the steep mount, where, from twin fountains Ted, Lethe and Eunoe, diverse waters, flow. Then, conscious of a presence at my side, I turn'd and saw the face whence sweetness beams And all things pure, ' Oh, Madeline,' I cried, * How have I sought thee, even in my dreams ! ' 'I know thou hast been faithful,' she replied, * Come, let me lead thee to the healing streams.' LOVE AND SORROW. tfy VII. DANTEAN DREAMS. V. So, hand in hand, together mov'd we o'er The flowery fields that crown that holy height ; But these I little mark'd, for soul and sight Hung on the heav'nly face I saw once more. We came and stood where from a cavern hoar Those streams that Dante saw, one crystal-bright, One dusk-hued but transparent, spring to light. And part, like brethren at their father's door Who know too well they ne'er again shall meet. She bade me kneel and drink ; I knelt and quaff'd The flowing darkness of the duller wave : Then, stooping, from her hollow'd palm she gave Thrice to my willing lips the sparkling draught. For the dear cup that held it doubly sweet. B 2 so SONNETS AND OTHER POEMS. VIII. DANTEAN DREAMS. VI. The draught from out the darker of the springs A gloom Lethean o'er my spirit cast. I saw the present only — not the past. Long-cherish'd memories of blessed things, Of dear love-service and sweet communings — Had vanish'd quite, nor less each harrowing thought Of kindness slighted or injustice wrought, With which Remorse the shrinking bosom stings. But when the fairer wave refresh'd my lips, . While those ill memories were still effaced, The good revived, now more than ever bright ; So some skill'd hand in chymic mixture dips A scroll whereon an unseen text is traced, And lo ! the hidden letters leap to light. LOVE AND SORROW. »i IX. DANTEAN DREAMS. VII. The Awaking. These were but dreams, of Dante's magic bred. There is no mount of healing pain, I know, Save that up which, with struggling effort slow. In this our world repentant sinners tread. Bright winged creatures do not come and go, From orb to orb on mystic errands sped ; Nor need I heav'nly visitants to show How I should think of thee, my dear one dead ! Had Gabriel pass'd me at thy chamber door With 'Ave, gratia plena' on his tongue, Or had he o'er thee at thy parting hung, And traced the sign of blessing on thy brow, Should I thy memory higher prize than now ? A saint I knew thee — he could know no more. as SONNETS AND OTHER POEMS. X. LOVE'S TEACHINGS. Love, thou has train'd me in a school severe. 'This man,' thou said'st, 'knows somewhat of my lore, But not enough ; lo ! I will teach him more.' So Sorrow came, and sojourn'd with me here, Wearing the form and face to me most dear. Then learn'd I laws of thine, but guess'd before, \ The hard, hard lesson conning o'er and o'er, While on the page fell many a bitter tear. Still Self within me feebly strove ; but when Death came and hid my angel from my sight — Not from my soul — Self died, and rose again Newborn, in one joint being blent with her. And now, O Love, I own thy matchless might, That even of Death can'st make thv minister. LOVE AND SORROW. 93 XL AN APPEAL. Ladies, who understand the gentle lore Of courteous words, kind deeds, and gracious ways, Bear witness, ye who knew her — do I praise More than she merits her whom I deplore ? Will ye not say — 'thy dear one to adore, And of her worth fit monument to raise, This be the sacred task of all thy days. Thy solace this, till thy brief term be o'er. More loving heart ne'er beat in human breast. Her life was all a willing service, done With simple dignity and artless grace. In her sweet converse weary souls found rest, And from her breath'd such purity that none Could think of evil, looking on her face.' a4 SONNETS AND OTHER POEMS. XII. VISITATIONS. Sometimes evoked by stress of prayers and tears, And sometimes all unbidden, of free grace. She gives me sight of her beloved face — Now as the bright young maiden she appears, Who shook my heart long since with hopes and fears ; Now, as she bloom'd, a flower of womanhood, Image and source to me of all things good, In the ripe summer of our wedded years. But oftenest the dear features wear again The smile so sad, yet so divinely sweet. They wore in those last months of patient pain. Then first her saintly soul I fully knew ; Love turn'd to worship, and my spirit threw Itself in adoration at her feet. I LOVE AND SORROW. S5 XIII. PAST AND PRESENT. Once Joy each morn our window-curtains drew, And smiling bade us hail — ' Rise, happy pair, A new day calls you and the world is fair.' But one dark dawning quench'd my zeal to view Heav'ns matin pomp — its wealth of varying hue. Now by my lonely bed — she is not there — The vestal Duty stands with solemn air. And says — ' Remember, thou hast much to do.' I turn and gaze on her, half-blind with tears, And lo ! she is transfigured, and I see No longer her with looks severe, but thee. My blessed one, with eyes of love that still Shed peace and comfort as in vanish'd years — And prompt I rise, thy counsels to fulfil. a6 SONNETS AND OTHER POEMS. XIV. THE ANGELUS. Sleepless I often lie at dawn of day — Then from the convent tower that rises near The trebly threefold note salutes my ear That bids the true believer muse and pray. With answering heart my Angelus I say, And think of her who was so lately here-^ Of her whose love through many a happy year Brought me all good, and charm'd all ills away. Again each sacred stage I travel o'er. From the dusk eve when, hearing first her voice, (Her face half hid) my heart presaged its choice — To that last morn when 'midst white flowers she lay, With brow and cheek, ah I white and cold as they — No longer mine, yet mine for evermore. LOVE AND SORROW. ay XY. 'Time the Consoler' — so with specious phrase Men seek their base ingratitude to screen, Oblivious of the lost ones who have been Their joy and glory in the by-gone days. But ne'er shall cloud that low desire can raise, Or selfish quest of consolation mean. Or the world's feverish turmoil, come between Thee and my longing spirit's wistful gaze. Who will may woo Lethean apathy ; But if the years with dead'ning fingers slow Could dull thy image written in my heart — Then should we seem a second time to part ; Forlorn I were indeed, and Time would be — Consoler ? nay, but deepener of my woe. s8 SONNETS AND OTHER POEMS. XVI. As rich men, never talking of their store. Nor thinking of it oft— yet walk elate, As inly conscious that their wealth is great ; So, in the happy years that are no more There liv'd within my being's central core A calm, deep sense of my so favour'd state — Possessing wealth past human estimate In her, who brought all blessings to my door. Now in the eternal world my treasure lies — From thoughts of her I borrow day by day Strength to my feet and guidance on my way. Yet, walking thus by faith, I yearn for sight — Yearn for her visible presence, and the light That shone upon me from those loving eyes. LOVE AND SORROW. sg XVII. Not seldom, when in foreign lands we fare, We see in rudely-fashion'd wayside shrine An image of the Mother-maid divine ; And thus we muse — ' not less the pious care That such memorial shaped and placed it there. Than moved the artist bent on high design — Marvel of Roman skill or Florentine — Destin'd to grace some glorious House of Prayer.' So, a poor craftsman, to my lady's praise I dedicate these all unworthy lays, That tender souls may cherish the dear name. Would Petrarch's lute were mine, and Petrarch's art ! Tuneless my voice to his ; but in his heart For his lost love glow'd no intenser flame. jo SONNETS AND OTHER POEMS. XVIIl. HALLOWED GROUND. Beautiful soul, that for too brief a space Look'd on this world of ours through human eyes — ■ The thought of thy mute presence sanctifies For us who lov'd and love thee, every place Oft brighten'd with the sunshine of thy face : But chief we dally with that fond surmise Here, where thou didst all household charities Daily dispense with meek unconscious grace, And where thy nobleness shone fully forth — The crown and consummation of thy worth — When unembitter'd, unsubdued by pain, ' Like a bright saint,' as said my poet-friend. Thou didst thy heavy burden long sustain. Serene and uncomplaining to the end. LOVE AND SORROW. p XIX. Oft must we feel to what frail tenement All is entrusted that we fondly prize. What is most precious to our heart and eyes Is not our freehold, is not giv'n but lent. We need not hold that Powers maleficent With conscious purpose break our dearest ties, And lives, else rich, thus blight and pauperise — Enough, that we are thralls of accident. While all our prospect looks serene and fair, The heavens grow dark, and in a single day We lose what cost the toil of years to gain. Yet droop not therefore ; nought can bar the way That leads our souls o'er rugged tracts or plain Up to diviner heights and purer air. i jg SONNETS AND OTHER POEMS. XX. How brief, how troubled is this mortal scene ! The cruel fates our cherish'd hopes deride, And rudely snatch our dear ones from our side. Yet, looking back through tears on what hath been, I own the truth — though sobs that rise between Impede the utterance — that, by grief untried, By memories of the dead unsanctified, Our life were but a shallow thing and mean. We are not made for self-complacent ease, Or boastful confidence. But oh ! stern Powers, Whate'er ye be, that rule our destinies, Pity poor mortals, and forbear to lay Too heavy burdens on these hearts of ours. Or we shall faint and perish by the way. LOVE AND SORROW. 33 XXI. TREASURED WORDS. In those last days ere I was left alone — Days saddest, yet most sacred, I have known- Seven words she spake, which in my heart shall live Till sister Death my parting sign shall give. Write not those words, my hand ! but let them be A holy secret between her and me. On one I think each morn when dawn is gray, And keep it for my solace through the day ; And so, within the compass of the week. All seven I seem to hear my angel speak. Ah me ! but seem — yet will I not repine ; I mourn not my own sufferings, dear ! but thine. II. THE RELIGION OF HUMANITY. C 2 i I [ 31 ] I. TO THE READER, Brother, who glancest with a heedless eye At these my strains, to thee they well may seem To show but forms of a distemper'd dream, So far from thoughts and hopes of thine they lie. I know that they are fated soon to die ; But, if they live the common term of men. And one who knows his time shall read them then, He may perchance with sympathetic sigh Thus muse or murmur — ' When our faith was young, This man beheld and bless'd the dawning light, And sang its triumph in no doubtful tone, Though with a tuneless harp and stammering tongue.* O well for me, if coming years shall write Such words as these on my memorial stone 1 38 SONNETS AND OTHER POEMS. II. TRANSFIGURATION. Late in a dream methought I slowly stray'd Through an antique cathedral's spaces vast, And in the Lady Chapel stood at last Before a picture, where my steps I stay'd In contemplation of the group portray'd By the old master's pencil, which surpass'd All others in the mystic charm it cast About the features of the blessed Maid. Star-crown'd she stood upon a crescent moon, And to her bosom clasp'd her wondrous boy. The Eternal Father, stooping from above, O'er son and mother stretch'd His arms of love ; While hovering cherubs sang some heavenly tune, Their faces kindled with adoring joy. THE RELIGION OF HUMANITY. ^g III. TRANSFIGURATION. II. While still I gazed upon the pictured scene, The outlines seem'd before mine eyes to swim, And all the forms to waver and dislimn. The Father faded in the clear serene Of space ethereal, and no more was seen. Slowly receded to the distance dim The winged host, while, group'd where they had been, A quire of holy women sang the hymn. The Virgin still her baby fondly press'd, But not upon the moon her feet were placed ; Now on our kindly planet did they rest ; And on the letter'd scroll above her head, Where late the name Deipara I read, Stood out l'Umanita distinctly traced. ^o SONNETS AND OTHER POEMS. IV. Quaerens me, sedisti lassa ; Redemisti, crucem passa. O MATER dolorosa ! with what pain Thy feet have upward trod the steep incline Which leads to all things good ! that heart of thine — What swords have pierc'd it through, whilst not in vain Thy toil was spent to nurture, teach, and train Hero and sage, and form that thing divine, The Woman as we know her — to refine The coarse, and make our rugged pathway plain. Wearied and faint, thou yet with faith sublime Hast labour'd on, and held thy suffering light In contemplation of a better time. How can we such long martyrdom requite ? I\Iay heart, brain, hand thy duteous servants be, And love, thought, life, be consecrate to Thee! THE RELIGION OF HUMANITY. 41 ' In Te est totum quod volo et desidero.' Once oft I strain'd mine eyes in hope to see The form by human fancy drawn in air Of a first Good, first Perfect and first Fair; For infinitely great, me-seem'd, must be The Power to which my soul could bend her knee- To which should rise the passion of her prayer. But now such fruitless quest do I forbear, Finding all fulness in Humanity. Of the great thoughts that quicken and sustain None was inspired by supernatural breath ; Each sprang unprompted in a human brain. And, search the depths below, the heights above, Nought nobler wilt thou find than human love — Love, that is subject to, yet conquers, Death. 42 SONNETS AND OTHER POEMS. VI. GUARDIAN ANGELS. The Being that enfolds in her embrace Our little lives and binds them into one, We image as a Mother with her son Clasp'd in her arms, because sole fount of grace Is She to all the children of our race. But, though we own her presence ever near. She speaks no word to any mortal ear, No mortal eye may look upon her face. We know her through her angels, whom she sends- Not airy creatures borne on radiant wings. But loving women, born to be our friends, To walk beside us on life's common way, To be our charm and solace day by day. And raise our drooping souls to higher things. THE RELIGION OF HUMANITY. 43 VII. INTERPRETERS. Those does our Virgin Mother, full of grace, As her Vicegerents send, that we may see Her mingled tenderness and purity Reflected in each well-beloved face ; And other rarer spirits of our race Ordains as her Interpreters, that She Through them may speak her oracles, and we Be mov'd her blessed service to embrace. Two name I, whom our Master prized the most- The mighty bard, who saw the depths of Hell, And heard the anthems of the heavenly host ; And the meek saint, who in his convent cell. All worldly noises silenc'd, bent his ear The whispers of the voice divine to hear. 44 SONNETS AND OTHER POEMS. VIII. The Master first brought clearly to our view That woman's nature is a higher thing Than man's, and from her, as a living spring, Ever his noblest impulses he drew. Yet was this precious truth not wholly new ; To souls elect no secret had it been : And here the Southern heart had farther seen Than the cold Northern intellect could do. Dante on Beatrice tipivard gazed, All self-abased, in reverential love, And with bow'd head receiv'd her grave rebuke ; While Milton's Adam, as God's image rais'd To fancied height, with condescending look Eve's tender grace contemplates from above. THE RELIGION OF HUMANITY. 45 IX. PISGAH. In th' irreligious city of the Seine I sat, a listener at the Master's feet, And to my soul his earnest words were sweet As to parch'd earth the fertilizing rain. He show'd me how men's spirits once again In witness of a common faith shall meet, And how their hearts in unison shall beat Under Humanity's eternal reign. The dawn is spreading over hill and plain, And, when the growing morn full day shall be, The renovated life of all our kind Its metropolitan home and fane shall find For ages long — O wondrous destiny ! — In the religious city of the Seine. 4b SONNETS AND OTHER POEMS. X. 'UTINAM VIDEREM.' ' O WOULD,' said holy Bernard, * I could see The Church of God as in the days of old ! ' So yearns my feebler spirit to behold — Ah ! yet far off — thy Church, Humanity ! As in the coming ages it shall be, When nations shall be gather'd in thy fold, In every tongue thy oracles be told, And millions in thy temples bow the knee. Then we no more shall spend our wealth of love Upon imagin'd beings in the skies, Or waste our thoughts on things beyond our ken ; But flood our hearts with human sympathies. Content our planet dwelling to improve. And solace, raise, and bless our brother-men. THE RELIGION OF HUMANITY. 4J XI. THE CHILDHOOD OF HUMANITY. The human child, arriving on earth's shore, Finds itself welcomed to a loving breast, And sweetly fed, and lapp'd in soothing rest ; And, when the years of others' rule are o'er, Wise counsel meets him, and the gather'd lore Of the past ages' loftiest souls and best ; And so, unless his lot be all unblest. He grows in heart and head from more to more. But when the race was born, and on its way First enter'd, who its dubious steps could guide ? From out itself it framed the needed stay. It shaped ideal beings to preside O'er its dim march, and in their fancied sway Its own high thoughts and aims personified. 48 SONNETS AND OTHER POEMS. XII. THE HUMAN HERITAGE. Eternal Power, to whom our lives belong, Heirs are we at our birth of all the store Piled in thy treasure-house from days of yore For use or splendour — ordinances strong To guard the weak and tie the hands of wrong- The civic wisdom, and the sacred lore Potent to guide, to chasten, to restore — The wealth of tender, noble, passionate song — And all the marvel and the charm of Art. Thou art the living fountain, whence alone Comes all of stay or solace that is ours. Shall we not then, with glad and grateful heart. To thy dear service consecrate our powers, And give thee back some portion of thine own .' THE RELIGION OF HUMANITY. 4q XIII. ' Non nobis, Domina, sed nomini Tuo.' Brothers, remember what the Master said. And all great souls had dimly felt before—^ ' In sober truth, and ever more and more, The men who live are govern'd by the dead.' The rules by which our daily lives are led, Our faith, our arts, our language and our lore- We did not make them, but inherited, Augmenting little the transmitted store. For us, the children of a younger day, The noble deeds of olden time were done; For us were Freedom's ancient battles won. And saintly sufferers trod the toilsome way ; Be thankful, then, at thought of Marathon, And 'midst lona's ruins pause and pray. D so SONNETS AND OTHER POEMS. XIV. THE NEW SYNTHESIS. When closed my song-charm'd boyhood's dreamy days, Began austerer Science to invite My spirit, seeking everywhere for light. I learn'd the line and surface to appraise, And star and planet fix'd my studious gaze. Then did I yearn to reach a specular height, Whose cloudless vantage should command the sight Of Man's whole world and all his works and ways. For guidance thither long I sought in vain, Till he I count the chief of those who know Taught us such mount of vision to attain, Seven golden stairs ascending from below. Eager I sprang his sacred lore to meet, And sat a glad disciple at his feet. THE RELIGION OF HUMANITY. 51 XV. MEA CULPA. When I remember how in youth, misled By bookish lore and intellectual pride, And in life's grave realities untried, I blindly rank'd the heart below the head, And, to my self-sufficient follies wed, Unletter'd worth and simple faith decried — Paining sweet souls that then were at my side, And now are number' d with the blessed dead — ' Master,' I cry — when this I call to mind — 'Why did I not thy doctrine earlier know ? Then might I from remorseful thoughts be free That haunt me now ; for none had power like thee My wrestling rebel spirit to lay low. And with the cords of strong persuasion bind.' D 2 SB SONNETS AND OTHER POEMS. XVI. Ere yet I reach'd the middle of life's way, I found myself within a darksome wood, Where most that in me dwelt of native good Was stifled or obscured, my inner day Was dimm'd, and more and more I went astray, By Demas fool'd, by Lamian spells subdued ; And with keen zeal unworthy aims pursued, Prizing as jewels things of common clay. Not mine the merit that at length I woke. Ofttimes mine ears had caught the Master's word, But now within my heart his voice was heard ; And thou, my dear one, earnest to my side. I took thee for my guardian and my guide, And bow'd my spirit to thy gentle yoke. THE RELIGION OF HUMANITY. ^ XVII. DE PROFUNDIS. ' Let all thy life be a perpetual prayer.' So said the Master, and my soul replies— ' Might but the fire within me oftener rise And struggle upward into purer air 1 For now, alas, depress'd by worldly care Or narrowing thoughts, it droops and almost dies. Till sudden inspiration vivifies The flame once more ; but ah ! such grace is rare.' Yet do I cleave unto the better part. Let me love more, and nought I ask beside- To others be the laurel crown of art, And wealth, and all that ministers to pride. Not these my portion^only let my heart Be fill'd with love, and I am satisfied. 54 SONNETS AND OTHER POEMS. XVIII. A POSITIVIST SOLEMNITY. Now dawns the sacred day of All the Dead. Not only those by household memories Link'd with our lives, for whom on bended knees Daily we yearn, and tears not seldom shed — Nor only the great spirits who have led Man's upward march to nobler destinies, Whose record in Fame's golden book is read — We reverence to-day ; not only these. But all, in whatsoever age or clime (Albeit the names of most the unpitying Hours Have hid for ever in the abyss of time), Who faithful, patient, helpful strove to be. And so, while worshipping imagin'd Powers, True service did, Humanity ! to Thee. THE RELIGION OF HUMANITY. 55 XIX. A RELIGIOUS SYMBOL. Trefoil of Erin ! as I contemplate Thy sister leaflets, I behold in these An emblem of profound triplicities That live in nature and in man's estate. Three are the Norns that weave the web of fate In silent loom — Past, Present, and To-be ; And Feeling, Thought, and Action are the three Handmaids that on the human spirit wait. The Apostle of our isle — as legends tell — Used thee to symbolise a mystery Now fading from our souls ; but thou as well May'st type for future men who look on thee Our sacred Triad indivisible — Family, Mother-land, Humanity. 56 SONNETS AND OTHER POEMS. XX. THE MODERN FETISHISM. Fear not, I pray thee, my too scrupulous friend, Trusting the impulse of poetic thought, To image all the visible world as fraught With will and feeling, which for ever tend To universal good, their common end. Such genial faith, from primal instinct caught By the first men, in these last times is taught By highest wisdom, which thus fain would blend With all of truth that studious years have found The fresh conceptions of our infant race. Doubt not the Sun upon his distant peers And on his subject orbs looks fondly round. And planets, dancing through delighted space. Hail with admiring joy their sister spheres. THE RELIGION OF HUMANITY. si XXI, Master, amid the turmoil and the strife, How shall my spirit calm and trustful be ? Thus only, if the fountains of my life Are hidden in Humanity with thee. S8 SONNETS AND OTHER POEMS. THE TRIUMPH OF HUMANITY : A HYMN OF THE PAST AND THE FUTURE. I. A WONDROUS pageant fills th' historic page, Moving through every age — The long procession of the Gods of Man — Forms, which his young imagination shaped And with rich legend draped, To guide his steps, ere Science yet began With searching gaze the outer world to scan, And which, as thought and various knowledge grew, He moulded oft afresh, or clothed in vesture new. II. No human faith will we, with stupid pride, Disparage or deride ; Each for our race some precious work has done — Knit social bonds, or selfish will repress'd, And calm'd the troubled breast. But now their tasks are wrought, their courses run — And they must fade and vanish, all save one ; Though some may linger long, as loth to part, Familiars of the home — penates of the heart. THE RELIGION OF HUMANITY. sg III. Our early sires, to whom small heritage Came from a mother age, By fancy and emotion wholly sway'd, The likeness of their inner being found In all they saw around. The tree beneath whose boughs their childhood play'd. The stream upon whose banks their youth had stray'd — Not senseless things were these, but living powers By fervid feeling stirr'd, with loves and hates like ours. IV. Then sprang the thought — 'Those orbs that shine afar. The Sun, the Moon, the star, Must rule our lives, must send us good or ill. Our days they gladden or illume our night, Our fields they bless or blight. How shall we learn to read their secret will, Their ordinances rightly to fulfil } Choose we some gifted men their names to praise, To study their intents, their altar-stones to raise.' 6o SONNETS AND OTHER POEMS. So grew the faith that far-off heavenly powers Govern'd this world of ours, And quicken'd natural things that else were dead. They, manlike beings of a mightier race, By anger moved or grace, On earthly issues sovereign influence shed, Our projects thwarted or our wishes sped. Priesthoods august arose to rule the lands, And guide the wayward crowd by the divine commands. VI. And soon, in visions of the sons of song, A many-colour'd throng, The Olympians shone ; they loved the lyre and flute, They heard, well-pleas'd, the din of martial strife. The stir and stress of life. And, ere Apollo's music yet was mute, Follow'd a graver train in soberer suit, Awakening deeper moods of reverent awe, And bending Roman pride to the behests of law. THE RELIGION OF HUMANITY. 6i VII. One people ruled the world ; the Imperial peace Bade sterile conflicts cease ; But its own gods each nation worshipp'd still, ' These various faiths,' the nobler instincts cried, ' Do but our hearts divide. We want one righteous Power, one sovereign will, To judge for all alike our good and ill. And oh ! for one who mortal weakness knows. And having learn'd to weep, can feel for human woes.' VIII. Treading a path of suffering and of shame, The Man of Sorrows came. Around him rose strong faith and purpose high, And noble spirits welcomed pain and loss, Might they but bear his cross, Nay — for the love of him rejoiced to die ; Because, 'twas said, he left his native sky, And his pure soul a free-will offering gave, The ruin'd race of men to succour and to save. 63 SONNETS AND OTHER POEMS. IX. But not in him they found their surest sta}-, For, when they knelt to pray, They trembled, mindful of his judgment seat, And, inly conscious of his broken laws, Ask'd — 'Who will plead our cause ? Is not his Mother tender-soul'd and sweet ? Oh ! let us haste to kiss her blessed feet I If stern the Judge, the mother-maid is mild ; She will assuage the wrath of her almighty child.' And so, beside the throne of Sire and Son, In mystic union One — IMother and Bride of Heaven, the Virgin stands ; She, Star of hope, the heavy-laden cheers, She dries the mourner's tears. Wherever sufferers pined in Christian lands. To her for help they raised their suppliant hands; High saints, great bards, did homage at her shrine. And artists loved to paint her human face divine. THE RELIGION OF HUMANITY. 63 XI. Long by the chosen spirits of the West The Eastern maid was bless'd As type supreme of tenderest womanhood. In her ideal nature they combined Whate'er in human kind Inspired their love or won their gratitude- All that they knew of bountiful and good, All that in Woman's gentler breast began And by contagion sweet pass'd to the soul of man. XII. And now that riper thought has purged our eyes, In her we recognise A beautiful, though faint, prefigurement Of Thee, Humanity ! in these last days Giv'n to our longing gaze- Great Being, in whose soul are truly blent All gifts to her by pious fancy lent. Each dear addition link'd to Mary's name — Star, Refuge, Fountof grace— thine own may better claim. 64 SONNETS AND OTHER POEMS. XIII. To power, controll'd by law and led by love, Not seated far above In the blank sky where comes no voice of prayer, But here incarnate, blessed one ! in Thee — We bow the adoring knee. Grateful we own Thy fond maternal care, And view with trustful hope the promise fair Which, bright'ning now, will shine on human souls Long as through gladden'dspace.Thy planet-dwelling rolls. XIV. So let the mighty organ shed around Its stormy waves of sound, And be the solemn silver trumpets blown, And let ten thousand hearts and voices raise The anthem-note of praise ; For on this day, by bard and sage foreshown, The Woman-spirit mounts th' eternal throne. Lift up your heads, ye everlasting gates, And let Her enter in, whose reign all earth awaits. III. MISCELLANEOUS. MISCELLANEOUS. 6y A NATION'S WEALTH. O England, thou hast many a precious dower ; But of all treasures it is thine to claim, Prize most the memory of each sainted name. That in thy realm, in field or hall or bower Hath wrought high deeds or utter'd words of power- Unselfish warrior, without fear or blame — Statesman, with sleepless watch and steadfast aim Holding his country's helm in perilous hour — Poet, whose heart is with us to this day Embalm'd in song — or Priest, who by the ark Of faith stood firm in troublous times and dark. Call them not dead, my England ! such as they Not were, but are ; within us each survives, And lives an endless life in others' lives. R 2 68 SONNETS AND OIHER POEMS. SOCIAL HEREDITY. Man is no mushroom growth of yesterday. His roots strike deep into the hallow'd mould Of the dead centuries ; ordinances old Govern us, whether gladly we obey, Or vainly struggle to resist their sway : Our thoughts by ancient thinkers are controll'd, And many a word in which our thoughts are told Was coin'd long since in regions far away. The strong-soul'd nations, destin'd to be great, Honour their sires and reverence the Past; They cherish and improve their heritage. The weak, in blind self-trust or headlong rage. The olden time's transmitted treasure cast Behind them, and bemoan their loss too late. MISCELLANEOUS. 6g SOCIAL ORIGINS. Think sometimes when you read a lovely lay Of Tennyson or Wordsworth — this hath sprung From germs that lived while yet our world was young. Give your imagination leave to play, And you will see how on a far-oflf day In a rude tent a wild-eyed audience hung On a love-tale by primal poet sung, And with loud plaudits own'd the singer's sway. And when you hear the organ's thunderous groan Roll through the vast cathedral's crowded space, Think how the early fathers of our race, Oppress'd with fear or overwhelm'd v/ith care, Turn'd to unseen creations of their own For help and hope, and bow'd the knee in prayer. 'JO SONNETS AND OTHER POEMS. SAINT PAUL. True Prince of the Apostles, great Saint Paul ! Upon that day, with mighty issues rife. Which form'd and fix'd the purpose of thy life, Not from the blank, impassive heav'n did fall The words that thrill'd thee ; that imagin'd call Was but the echo of the inward voice That from thy spirit's shrine decreed the choice Glorious for thee and fraught with good to all. ' It 7nust be true : I saw how Stephen died. The Lord he serv'd was no mere child of earth. This faith will mould the Gentile, as the Jew, To its own image, will make all things new, And give our worn-out world a second birth. Henceforth I live to preach the Crucified.' MISCELLANEOUS. 7/ THE SOCIAL FUTURE. As, with enforc'd yet unreluctant pace, We downward move along life's westward slope, Slow fades the once bright gleam of personal hope, And larger looms the future of the race ; Our wistful eyes the goodly prospect trace, Seen through a haze of forecast ; there outspread Lie the fair fields our children's feet shall tread When we have pass'd to our abiding place. Oh ! sons and daughters of the coming age, Give worthy meed of gratitude and praise To those true souls who, in less happy days. Have lived for others — most of all for you, — Have stored the wealth which is your heritage. And plann'd the work it will be yours to do. 'J2 SONNETS AND OTHER POEMS. PASTOR AB AMPHRYSO. ' Thou seemest, O Lysanias, all distraught, And turnest from us, as intent to hear Some far-off music, or as if thine ear The voices of aerial spirits caught.' * Yea, so it is. Late, hastening homeward, near This spot, T heard such notes that, sure, methought Apollo from Olympus must have brought His flute divine to charm our lower sphere. Now the ecstatic carol of a bird. And now a long-drawn passionate wail I heard. Sudden it ceas'd ; but, ever since, the sound With bodiless presence haunts me, and I seem To see not, or forget, the things around, Wrapt in the cloudy covert of a dream ' MISCELLANEOUS. 73 II. ' Well ! hast thou seen thy magic minstrel ? ' ' Yea, And spoken with him. Where Pen6us pours Between steep cliffs his flood to yonder shores, I found him sitting thoughtful yesterday. He gave me greeting kind, and bade me stay ; Then talk'd, and nobly, of Life, Love, and Art, Of things divine and human, till the gray Of evening fell around and made us part. Creon, he is a god : such brow and eyes ! Music unmatch'd, and grand poetic thought ! The blessed ones, they tell us, oft descend From their high dwelling, and in humble guise Move amongst men. Unhappy they, my friend, Who, meeting the Immortals, know them not.' 14 SONNETS AND OTHER POEMS. STREAMS. I. Streams! ye have ever been the friends of men — From tiny brook, the playmate of the child, Or torrent, dashing down the rocky glen. That fills the soul of youth with rapture wild, To Rhine or Seine, a nation's pride, that wends Through peopled plains, by cities great and free. As with full sweep majestic it descends, Bearing its tribute to the mighty sea. Most to the sacred poets streams are dear: Not seldom, as the singers in old time Drew inspiration from Castalian dews. They still by fount or river find the Muse ; And, mingled with their songs, we seem to hear The voice of waters, soothing or sublime. MISCELLANEOUS. -75 STREAMS. II. Yes ! all the noblest of the tuneful train Lov'd running waters and have sung their praise. Xanthus and Simois in old Homer's lays Still rush in whirling eddies to the main ; We catch at times through Milton's lofty strain Warblings of Siloa and her sister fount That bathe the feet of Sion's holy mount ; Dante remembers among souls in pain The rills that speed down slopes of bright-green sward To join his Arno ; in Petrarca's song Seems Sorga to console his amorous woe With soft response ; and Spenser, laureate bard Of British rivers, marshals all their throng To pass before us in triumphal show. 'jb SONNETS AND OTHER POEMS. NATIONAL PRESAGE. Unhappy Erin, what a lot was thine ! Half-conquer'd by a greedy robber band ; 111 govern'd with now lax, now ruthless hand ; Misled by zealots, wresting laws divine To sanction every dark or mad design ; Lured by false lights of pseudo-patriot league Through crooked paths of faction and intrigue ; And drugg'd with selfish flattery's poison'd wine. Yet, reading all thy mournful history, Thy children, with a mystic faith sublime. Turn to the future, confident that Fate, Become at last thy friend, reserves for thee, To be thy portion in the coming time. They know not what — but surely something great. MISCELLANEOUS. 'j'j A PROTEST. ' Whom the gods love, dies young' — Oh, say not so! Thou art a father — can the cruel word Lodge in thy breast or from thy lips be heard? Let the young live, ye awful Powers, and know, Ere they pass hence, the savour of that best Of fruit that grows upon the tree of life — The happy home, the love of child and wife — And, working with their fellows, earn their rest. The old must go, and others fill their room ; So is the blood of the world re-vivified. But ah ! 'tis piteous when a father stands O'er his dead son, and holds the pulseless hands, Or mother for her daughter must provide Not marriage robes, but garments of the tomb. 7