THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES FOOTSTEPS OF THE GODS AND OTHER POEMS. * * * Three hundred copies only printed. FOOTSTEPS OF THE . GODS AND OTHER POEMS BY ELINOR SWEETMAN. LONDON: GEORGE BELL AND SONS, YORK STREET, COVENT GARDEN. MDCCCXCIII. CHISWICK press:— C. WHITTINGHAM AND CO. TOOKS COURT, CHANCERY LANE. ?R TO MY SISTER AGNES. [MRS, EGERTON CASTLE.] How oft in childish days of yore, When we were summoned down in state, I trembUng on the stair would wait And push you through the drawing-room door. But you returning drew me on, Till I too braved the strangers' gaze, And shared the smiles your brighter ways And steps more confident had won. And now on unfamiliar floors Their rights the old sweet habits claim, And I would call upon your name As once in days of pinafores. That I through you may entrance win, And standing where you stood before, Without the great unopened door, May hear the voices cry : " Come in ! " CONTENTS. PAGE Footsteps of the Gods i Alcestis 6 Sonnets : I. Firstlings lo II. From Shore to Shore ii III. Heights 12 IV. Afterwards 13 V. " Tongues in Trees " 14 VI. Hie Jacet 15 VII. The Urn of God 16 VIII, Lassitude 17 IX. To a Nightingale 18 X. Easter-Day 19 XI. Two Winds 20 XII. On the Sonnet 21 Sir Bion 22 Glamour 27 Dethroned 2o My Knight, My Dream, My Apple-Tree . . 31 The Lost Dream 34 Beside the Sea 36 To Lilla 37 Nestlings 39 Song 41 viii CONTENTS. Song . 34 New Year Bell^ 44 Crocuses 46 Olympus in Babylon ... 48 Fairy Song 5° At Sundown 5' The Silent Knight • • • 53 FOOTSTEPS OF THE GODS AND OTHER POEMS. FOOTSTEPS OF THE GODS. This is the young Spring's dawn ! Over our wintry nakedness is drawn A brown and purple veil of cradled buds ; In the long ripples of subsiding floods, Where dripping osiers shiver in the blast, A downy brood is hatched from willow- wands ; And through the skeleton splendours of the past, The fern uprears its carven crosier-fronds. Over is the night, Out of darkness breaketh light, Out of silence many-woven song. Once more upon the dewy hill-top falls The tread of mighty footsteps, and the sound Draws from its hidden fountains underground, The pulsing crj'stal stony veins along. B a FOOTSTEPS OF THE GODS. Life in the speckled shell begins to beat Mid sprouting leaves ; and roseate daisy-balls Dimple the valleys where the young lambs bleat. Lo ! they are here, — the immortal gods are here ! With the first freshness of the new-bom year, They have remembered them the days of old, When freely through the morning world they strode, And earth their garden was, and they abode Beside* the sun on mountain summits gold. Lo ! they are here once more ! And Nature too remembers steps she loved. And the deep fires, within her bosom, moved. Break unrestrained forth, the meadows o'er. Cool flames of living emerald that creep From bank to bank along the river's edge. Fanned by a breath divine, then sportive leap To twisted lines of beauty in the hedge. Thence gain the forest whose long glade upheaves Kingcups like showered sparks on ivy leaves. In happy dawns. When space on space is stirred with sound of wings, As wider air through freshening branches swings, FOOTSTEPS OF THE GODS. 3 And long blue shadows tremulously sway Like floating lattices on drenched lawns, They pass, the blessed ones, at break of day. Is this the world we know? — these shining fields ? These gilded woods ? — this unsubstantial plain ? What peace is here ! What height of lonely air ! What gulfs of darkness every bush beneath Make endless night along the bramble wreath, As if for hours some mighty form had lain Couched in the spice each tender sapling yields ! This is the wood-god's lair. Where on the cold sweet grass, reclined at ease. He piped unseen to wandering Dryades. Boughs in the orchard close Flushed with a faint and fleeting loveliness ! Meet fane for Aphrodite ! — here she rose, When April drifting down the green recess Upbroke in foam its lowly arches o'er. Like music, like a dream, like morning's breath, Through swathes of herbage newly laid in death, She wandered early down its tufted floor, Pausing to bend in jest a rosy ear To silent flower-shells ; — see how the pear 4 FOOTSTEPS OF THE GODS. Is flecked with bud, where Eros hovering Brushed the slim branches with a fleecy wing ! Further afield are languid wind-flowers frail, Veined like the lids of young Endymion's eyes. And sheets of springing primroses that wear The colours of the moon in tearful skies ; Perchance on such as these Diana stept. When first, apparelled all in glories pale, She stooped to kiss her shepherd as he slept ; So much celestial sweetness lingers there. Ah, Dian ! fled for ever are those days When thou didst quit the midmost heavens pure. To watch beside the timid mountain fawn, Half-hid in odorous myrtle-boughs, and lure Through trembling gates of sleep thy lover's gaze ! Who now beholding thee remotely thread In cold serenity the golden maze. To silver secret bowers overhead ; Or through torn midnight's cloudy lattice wild Show a white face austere, and swift withdrawn. Could dream that thou on mortal youth hadst smiled ? Gone is the olden time, Blind faith and large simplicity sublime. FOOTSTEPS OF THE GODS. s When fancy sang and graver tones were mute. Ours is the riper age ; the hard round fruit, The bearded fields that sober seasons bring ; But who will give us back the bloom, the bliss, The stir, the flush, the ecstasy of Spring ! Only with April's kiss, Olympus, shaken through its weight of snows. Wakes yearly from impassive deep repose ; And youth undying, splendour, vigour, grace, Roll from its misty summit into space : So full a tide of life that it would seem Not sap but ichor runs beneath the sods ! Behold they come ! theypeople Nature's dream- But now they come unseen, — the scornful gods ! O, Poet ! doth thy heart within thee leap, To whose keen sense these quickening days unfold Brief touches of a long-forgotten race ? Or wilt thou weep ? Knowing the world can never more behold Its strong immortal beauty face to face. ALCESTIS. Read me this riddle, love. That, though thou wert Alpha and Omega on earth to me, I yet should measure what I feel for thee, More by th' unfathomed anguish of my heart, Now we are parted, than by joys sprung forth From moments in thy lov^d presence spent ; For if a prize be ours we are content As far as in us lies, — some more, some less. Our souls scarce reach as high as happiness. But if we lose it, life is nothing worth. Last eve I had a dream within a dream, Upon a sunny hillside as I lay Mid rocks and fern, where, with declining day, Shadows of trees beneath me stretched away. Like wandering paths across the golden gleam. And in my dream I knew I was alone. ALCESTIS. 7 And knew that sometime in the bitter past God's messenger had come for thee, and I With breaking heart had watched thee breathe thy last, And, bowed upon thy pillow, seen thee die. Methought I heard the insects' busy drone, And felt the sunshine slide along my breast, Unconsciously, and I had ceased to weep ; And yet I slumbered not, for that the stone They set above thee in thy place of rest Weighed over heavy on my heart for sleep. But dimly through the languor bom of tears I knew a careless nature's ebb and flow. The stir, the warmth, the tramp of mountain- steers To cries from valley-pastures far below. And all the insolence of life around ; The same we used to love — the same ! — and thou Wert lying in the darkness underground ! O not the same ! for heaven's blue lay hid In those lost glances 'neath thy coffin lid ! And hateful seemed the green, familiar earth, And swallows' chorus of insensate mirth ; 8 ALCEST/S. The voice of waters, down their rocky shelf Low murmuring of long monotonous glee, Fell tunelessly upon my stricken ears ; Spake I of life? — The whole world died with thee, And I, lorn, desolate, accurst, lived on, Chained to a lampless length of barren years ; — I, whose own soul seemed alien to itself, Loathing all things on which God's daylight shone. And seeing all distorted through my tears ! This is the bitterness of loss ; — to strain Our aching senses through relentless void, Yearning for knowledge, yearning, but in vain. For answering signs that love is not destroyed. From those mysterious lands comes no reply ; Naught save our own blind piteous tones again, Naught save the echo of our baffled cry. My longing pierced the solemn sunset air : "O love, O love, how hath it fared with thee.? So cherished, watched, and guarded here, who yet Wert summoned forth alone !— Canst thou forget ? Canst thou be happy seeing my despair ? ALCESTIS. 9 Did winged seraphs on the heavenly stair Waft into space each lingering last regret, Ere making thee of starry cities free ? Or if in holy twilight aught of stain Upon thine angel innocence detain Thee prisoner for a while, is this thy pain To know my loneliness ? — or dost thou wear For home and love and all we used to share A spiritual robe of white disdain?" Lo ! as my soul in deepening anguish fell From gloom to nether gloom of sorrow's hell, Where faith lay sick with doubt and wild alarms, And every jfiend had leave my thought to rack, For one brief moment thou wert given back, Like lost Alcestis, to my empty arms. Yet, as I clasped thee, — even as I felt Beneath thy kiss my hideous burthen melt. Yea, ere the blessed vision fainter grew, I was not all deceived, for that I knew Such bliss intense, such bliss without alloy, So full, so pure, we may not call our own. — I did but dream. This agony of joy Was never mine in happiest days by-gone ! SONNETS. FIRSTLINGS. The joy of babes that see the primrose dart Its first sweet rays o'er banks where winter lies, The joy of those who under alien skies Behold strange lands from distant waters start, And shores unknown drive sea and sky apart, AH joys were mine of all discoveries, When through my fitful April shone thine eyes : First friendship is the primrose of the heart. O lady mine I the birds have ceased to sing. The crops are garnered now ; along the path Decay waves sallow arms o'er Autumn lands ; But in those fields where first we clasped hands, Thy face still smiles amid the aftermath, And cheats my fancy with a dream of Spring. SONNETS. II. FROM SHORE TO SHORE. Sorrow hath built a palace in my soul, With windows opening on eternity, And thence I see Time's dreary waves slip by, Swollen with human tears, and onward roll To chilling shores of death, their final goal. Dark burthens on the heaving waters lie, Tossed to and fro beneath an iron sky ; Wrecked hopes, wrecked hearts, wrecked lives that once were whole. Poor ships, so soon destroyed by envious waves ! So soon to founder hidden rocks between ! Or else becalmed for aye on arid sand. Near those dim gardens filled with nameless graves, Wherein we lay to rest what might have been, — Anchor not here ; there is a Better Land. 12 SO.WVETS. III. HEIGHTS. The things that tower above us as we go, Of their high nature solitary are ; Spire leaneth not to spire, nor star to star, Nor even with their peers do angels know Friendship as felt by lesser hearts below. And thus some souls will break their human bar, And o'er their fellow-pilgrims soar afar. Not from disdain, — but they are framed so. What though their lot seem barren, joyless, rude — Let us not pity, we, whose thoughts incline To shepherd's pipe and cries about the hearth ; All things are theirs ; new heavens and new earth. New heights, new depths,— the sense of solitude Makes, in its workings, loneliness divine. SONNETS. 13 IV. AFTERWARDS. Life's darkest hours are not the hours we weep Prone on the grave of recent happiness ; The soul's worst pain is when the pain grows less, And Sorrow, wearied, lays h" down to sleep. Our highest powers are fi Ever creep Time's icicles about our welib of tears ; Of love and loss, with slow succeeding years, The narrowed heart may only memories keep. Father of all ! Who fashionest our dust, When Thou wouldst heal the heart Thou mak'st to bleed, Forbear ! A greater boon I ask of Thee. O grant me strength to live, if live I must. However brief the joys Thou hast decreed. But let my grief, great God, undying be ! 14 SONNETS. "TONGUES IN TREES." Upon the time that Autumn hedges will, And monkish weeds the pilgrim year beseem ; When through bereaven woods the thrushes' lilt Sounds ghostly sweet, like music heard in dream : Above a road where dying leaves were spilt, One soaring ash-tree caught the heavenly beam. And framed in naked branches evening-gilt The tranquil, vast, illimitable gleam. When I am old and hoar and like to die, .\nd hopes and plumed ambitions fall from me, -Might I thus steadfast meet my Father's sight, Uplifted in a spiritual light ; That the last fibres of my life might be .\ golden lattice to Eternity. SONNETS. 15 VI. HIC JACET. Methought the earth was fair and sweet and green, Until they pierced it for my true love's grave ; Then through that narrow door there came a wave Of cold clear light from outside worlds unseen, And all things changed from what they once had been. How shrunk are their proportions, seeming brave ! Yet what they have, and what they claimed to have There lies but one small mound of grass between. ]\Iy lady and my love I sleep'st thou so cold ? O then have Life and Death exchanged parts ! Life is a spectre, Death hath all the bloom, And grows his sweetest flowers under mould. Here is ray only home, beside this tomb. Whose stony portals now divide our hearts. i6 SONNETS. VII. THE URX OF GOD. All things are beautiful and all are great ! God in His world abideth, not alone In works immortal ; sculptured dreams of stone ; Music that makes the inner heart vibrate ; Or moods of nature : seas irradiate ; Wild branches tossing in a stormy light ; W^inds, waves, bloom, sunrise, — visions exquisite That human souls to higher spheres translate ; But lift the humblest daisy from the ground, And note how wonderful its mimic wheel ! The axle gold, the spokes of rosy white. The lesser circle in the greater bound ; Do not its harmony and law reveal That flower-cups may hold the Infinite? SONNETS. 17 VIII. LASSITUDE. Life's bonds are countless as its running sands, Entangling souls with knowledge, love and fame. How shall we bear each hour's insistent claim, — Such quick relentless days, such thronged de- mands, Such ceaseless toil for brain and heart and hands, As duty treads on duty, aim on aim. Till pulse and impulse stagger in the frame. Like weary wayfarers in crowded lands ! O it were luxury to pause, reclined In some lone nook 'mid leafage of the year : To shutter close all windows in the mind And know our loved ones happy, but not near ; No question forming there, nor finding zest Nor meaning anywhere, but only rest. i8 SONNETS. IX. TO A NIGHTINGALE. Minstrel unseen, who singest to the skies, Hope not to make the vestal night pulsate To such wild strains of music passionate ; For she on Heaven hath fixed her virgin eyes, And, deaf to thine entrancing melodies, Doth quiring angels, silent, contemplate. While, hid in shadow, thou may'st sing and wait, To thine own longing making sad replies. Here is thy love ! O see, at Heaven's edge Where trees expectant stand along the ridge. Thy song is crowned ere yet its ardour sinks ;— Dawn leans her down through golden window - bars .-\nd flings with shining hands her wreathed pinks Among the silver lilies of the stars. SONNETS. 19 X. EASTER-DAY. Let us not dream our loved ones die alone ! We too are straitened in their winding-sheet, We wear their charnel weeds, our willing feet Were fain to follow theirs in ways unknown. We stand o'er graves where yet no grass hath grown. And on ourselves place funeral garlands sweet ; Something within our hearts hath ceased to beat, Something of us is laid beneath the stone ! And though in time with Christ we rise again, So changed are- we that those who loved us most, And early seek us in God's garden-plot. Did we not speak to them, would seek in vain. Like her who, searching for her Saviour lost, Wept at His pierced feet, and knew Him not. ao SONNETS. XI. TWO WINDS. I HAVE within my soul a garden fair Where twin-born winds dispute the chequered skies ; One dulls the glory on the flower and dries The roses' dew, and strips the bushes bare, And broods in darkling bowers, awaking there Wild dreams of tones long hushed and vanished eyes, Until from grass-grown graves old ghosts arise And shriek out " Loneliness ! " through empty air. The other softly comes on silver wing, Beneath whose touch all glamour is renewed. Once more on swaying boughs and grasses spring Apples of gold and blossoms many-hued, While through the stillness Angel-voices sing And dreamy echoes answer, " Solitude." SONN£TS. 21 XII. ON THE SONNET. Securely through the sonnet's fourteen bars As from a lattice Poesy looks down ; While other citadels of song are blown Into the dust with every wind that wars. No storms assail her here, no fashion mars ; Immortal wreaths have round the casement grown, Through which she marks our human smile and frown, Or lifts a pensive gaze to holy stars. O Poesy ! be ever safe immured Here, where the mightiest have paused to sing, And fledgling bards lisped forth their waking note ; And haply to thy cloister-prison lured, May flights of music stay a wandering wing, As once of old in Barbara's tower remote. 22 SIR BION. Sir IJiON rode throu^^h the Northern land, His hounds at heel, his hawk on his hand ; The wild deer crouched in their ferny lair, The wild doves wheeled in the hot June air, The wild bee swung on the moor-bell's stalk. The lark sang loud, and the knight sang low. As through the thickets he pac^d slow, But never he loosed his hooded hawk. 'Twixt banks still warm with the may's last flush, Blossomed and bloomed a syringa-bush ; Sir Dion caught at a dewy wreath, And broke it off as he rode beneath ; Sir Bion a year and a day was wed : — " Better a wreath for my lady's hair Than a blood-stained fawn I " Sir Bion said. The gates were open, the doors unbarred, The men were scattered in castle-yard, L'pon the stairs stood a woman-throng, Then came a sad-faced friar along ; S/J? BION. 23 " The Lord remembered thy house this day ; Thy lady bore thee a son at noon, A small dead babe in its seventh moon ; Blest be the will of the Lord, alway ! " Thus prayed the monk, and the women wept ; A sudden wind through the ivy crept ; The yew-trees nodding above the wall Flung passing shadows across them all, But darkness over Sir Bion shed : " Better were never a cradle song, Than a mother's dirge ! " Sir Bion said. The wind rose higher, the branches tossed. The men turned pale as themselves they crossed, The monk uplifted a face of dread : " Alas, Sir Bion ! Thy bride is dead 1 " They told him the hour she sank to rest, They told her grief and her gentle prayer. They bade him clamber the winding stair, And lay his wreath on her pulseless breast. Sir Bion heard and he answered not ; He strode from thence to a silent spot, A weedy patch called the lych-gate plot. Where thorn and thistle and nettle plume O'er ivied ground made a low green gloom, 24 SIR B/O.V. And there he flung him with heart of lead : " Better it were had I never wed Than wedded to weep ! " Sir Bion said. So still he lay that the snails 'gan climb, And striped his vesture with paths of slime ; The herbs he bruised smelt poison-sweet ; Then came a weasel to sniff his feet, And a cloud of wailing gnats drew near. Sir Bion lay and he heeded naught. His mind had turned to his battles fought, And deeds of blood and the foeman's spear. He thought on war and the corpses grim Before the walls of Jerusalem ; — The heaps of slain with their eyes upturned To skies of brass where a hot sun burned. And those that fell with a ghastly smile 'Neath his charger's hoofs : and all the while There tolled a deep-mouthed bell overhead : " Better my heart should have ceased to beat Than so heavy lie ! " Sir Bion said. From lonely tracts in the bare wide skies The stars were staring with alien eyes ; And through the night by the turret-wing A white moon past like a hunted thing. S/I? BION. 25 The mastiff dragged at its chain and bayed, As steps drew nigh in shadow and gloom, And crept upstairs to the silent room Where weary watchers slumbered and prayed. Sir Bion's lady was cold and dead, With seven tall tapers round her head ; Seven tall flames that flickered and flared — But his hand ne'er shook as the blade he bared : " Better a bier and an earthen bed And the hand I kissed in its wedding-ring Than lonely splendour I" Sir Bion said. The women shrieked and the friars frowned ; "We may not put him in holy ground." Up rose the people in dole and wrath ; " Shall one be flung on the roadside path. And one be buried in hallowed sod W^hose hands were joined in the Church of God.'"' They stood by night on the moorland crest They brought their tools to the thicket shade ; Under the bridebush a grave they made, And laid the knight and his love to rest. The wild deer crouched in their ferny lair. The wild doves circled in radiant air. The wild bee swung on the moor-bell's stalk. And old and listless grew hound and hawk, 26 S/R BION. While cowslips sprang from the bride's gold hair, And spear grass over Sir Bion spread : " Better together in mould unblest Than parted in death I " the people said. 27 GLAMOUR. The wind is blowing from the height, The hillside gorse has gathered light, The day is widowed of the sun. And dies upon a flaming pyre. Through shifting glories of the sky The golden argosies sail by, To reel and founder one by one, And vanish in a sea of fire. The air is full of startled wings, And calling notes, and tossing boughs. And eerie cries of feathered things, That heighten as the twilight grows ; And voices from the solemn seas Send rustling echoes through the fern, Where lone upon the lonely leas A ruin's battered windows burn. Through loosened tiles the sunset gleams ; Old cobwebs dangle from the beams ; a8 GLAMOUR. The casements rattle ; creepers twine Green arms about the gabled walls ; The grass grows lush beside the doors, And mildew creeps o'er broken floors, Where blazing trails of Autumn vine Make chilly fires in roofless hails. There comes a rustle in the leaves, The wind swings round the creaking vane, The jasmine drooping from the eaves. Beats wildly on the window-pane ; And where its tendrils interlace Round ancient glass that fronts the west, I see a strange and lovely face Against the glowing lattice prest. * Like Summer lightning in the air. Its vivid beauty trembles there ; The shaken rose-bush whispering Sends forth a sudden breath of musk. Then swiftly dies the sunset flame, The vision darkens in its frame, And flitting shapes on leathern wing Flash circling through the deepening dusk. The door swings loudly on its hinge, My steps are on the crazy stair ; The echoes start, the shadows cringe. GLAMOUR. 29 The owls fly hooting from their lair ; — I stand within the latticed room, Where dust and darkness reign supreme, A cat emerges from the gloom, And hissing wakes me from my dream. 30 DETHRONED. There is a warlike music in the blast ; The rebel winds have risen and discrowned The aged year, and strewn upon the ground The gold and crimson of his splendours past. Poor monarch ! he hath cast his honours down, Shaken with storms, and pierced with frosty spears Hath fled to sanctuary and now wears In lieu of kingly state the friar's brown. Death hath enrolled him in his house of gloom, Who first stole Summer from the flowering lea. Nor much 1 think he cares for life since she Was laid with all her roses in the tomb. But now kind Heaven doth avenge his woes, Confounding those who called him Fortune's fool ; For where he dying lies comes holy Yule To blanch his memory with saintly snows. 31 MY KNIGHT, MY DREAM, MY APPLE-TREE. I HAD a dream at break of day, When April decked the land with green, And moated beams and roundelay Stole in the casement chinks between To scare the muffled dusk away With pipes of dawn and light serene. 1 dreamed that in a lonely close. O'er morning grasses long and lush, I wandered 'neath entangled boughs, And saw the latticed heavens blush And brighten all the fruit-tree rows Above a song of hidden thrush. And lo ! beside an apple-tree, With dappled buds and bloom bepearled, Where docks and nightshade sprouting free Green tongues about my footsteps cuiled. 32 .1/1' KM CUT. MY DREAM. ETC. There leaned against the trunk with me, The fairest knight in all the world. And as, in dream, my heart beat strong, And half I thought to turn and flee ; And louder rose the thrush's song Above the minor minstrelsy ; My lover smiled the boughs among, And kissed me 'neath the apple-tree. O whence this boding tone, sweet thrush, In secret coverts overhead ? The world's a-bloom, the daisies flush, And all the little birds are wed ; And Spring on thorn and elder-bush Hath bridal garlands newly shed, — O cease thy dagger-note ! The glade Is pierced with song in every part. The sun, erewhile in mist arrayed, Now stabs the leaves with fitful dart ; And now my knight hath drawn his blade And plunged it through my trusting heart. Beneath the nightshade hoar with dew In haste my maiden grave he spread. MY KNIGHT, MY DREAM, ETC. 33 And chilly mould and pebbles threw Above my murdered golden head, And down the boughs of apple drew To make green curtains for my bed. I would not wake, though to and fro Long ivy roots bind hand and knee, But where my lover laid me low At rest for ever would I be. And listen while the thrush sings slow Aly dirge upon the apple-tree. D 34 THE LOST DREAM. Like storm of snow on April maze Sleep falls upon the darkening mind, And thoughts are whirled and intertwined Ere settling down in tangled ways. The blinding softness numbs the will, And blurs the edge of memory' clear ; And hooded purposes appear Like frozen giants cold and still. From stranger lands beyond the brain A dream comes through this hushed retreat, And prints the paths with flying feet, Then wanders into space again. And we, with folded senses furled A fathom deep beneath the snow, Are dimly conscious then, and know Her footsteps in the slumber world. THE LOST DREAM. And when at dawn its phantoms melt To mist about the rising day, And things of night have fled away, Her passage through the soul is felt. Some trifling word or act will fill Life's thoroughfares with thoughts of her, And formless memories rise and stir The bafiled heart with sudden thrill. In vain, in vain we search the spot Where late the airy pilgrim stood ; Perchance we meet a sweeter mood, But our lost dream returneth not. 3.5 36 BESIDE THE SEA. Alone beside the radiant seas, I watched the sun-spears pierce the deep ; And saw the stealthy shadows creep Around a mystery of trees. And in the far-off land of dreams A fairy hall of pearl I built, And placed it where the sunset gilt The rocking tide in lavish streams. But lo ! Within those waters bright Both sun and castle found a grave, Now stand I by the bitter wave And wait the coming of the night. 37 TO LILLA. I. She is dead ! My love is dead ! And nothing earthly hath a meaning now, Since her sweet spirit fled. Those who, like me, have laid their dearest low, And stand alone the hallowed mould above, May find in memory the things they miss, And lifting from the dust a lov^d face, Be happy sometimes for a little while In the remembrance of a vanished smile, In echoes of the tender words once said. But what an added bitterness is this : I have no past 'twixt me and empty space — I knew not that I loved my love — And she is dead ! II. Last night I dreamed of Heaven 1 That I was drawn 38 TO LILLA. Beyond the faint carnation fields of dawn, And through the golden gates to Paradise. I heard the sound of harps and psalteries ; I saw the ecstasy of angel eyes ; I saw innumerable pinions rise To waft me on to everlasting rest ; — And yet from this deep bliss I felt estranged, Nor realised 'twas Heaven, till among The blessed troops that down in welcome prest, I caught the sudden silence in thy song, And saw thy face — and knew thou wert un- changed ! 111. This is the thought that will not let me rest On nights of sob and storm, as still I lie ! For once I dreamed my year-dead love came by, Out of the wilds with snow upon her head, And clasped her small soft hands against my breast As was her wont in olden days, and said : " How cold, dear heart, is great Eternity !" 39 NESTLINGS. In the sweet Spring, in green sweet Spring, When mist about the morn is spun, Shot through and through with silver sun, And chirp perplext of countless birds Beneath a drowsy sky ; Ere yet the magic month takes wing, And days in duller hues are drest, Shall we not build an April nest, 'Mid blossoms cool and white as curds, Fancy, the birds, and I ? Of straws through which the wind pipes free, And moss that grows by secret streams, And gossamers as light as dreams, Our airy dwellings rise to song. Upon a wilding spray ; Therein we place our joys to be ; And some are tinted like the skies, And others like the loved one's eyes. 40 NESTLIXGS. Or shells by distant oceans flung On shores that foam alway. Then swift ! the brief sweet moon is o'er, From tender hearts the broods have flown, Our nests about the hills are blown, And scattered troops of houseless things Disperse fresh fields among. But if in sleep return a few, To lisp us low the notes we knew, Shall we not joy that they have wings, And we have hatched a song ? 41 SONG. Mv love and I went maying when the bloom was on the thorn, High above us larks were singing at the golden gates of mom ; White with blossom lay the meadows, dewy fresh the summer lands, Where I bent the milky branches to her little milky hands, And the sunbeams lingered lovingly to see my true love pass. As her shadow trembled lightly o'er the flower of the grass. O ! my love and I went maying ! but how soon her footsteps lagged. Soon the tender limbs grew weary, and the blithesome spirit flagged ! O ! the flowers were very heavy, and the sun was fierce on high ! 42 SONG. I must pick the rest without her — she would meet me by-and-by. Then she dropped her scented burden in a white and shining heap Near the little hillside churchyard, where she laid her down to sleep. Where my love and I went maying, I came down the path alone, Through the chilly evening thicket while the turtle-doves made moan. With the boughs we broke together closely held against my breast, Though the bloom had long dropped from them, and the thorns alone I prest. And the hawthorn — O ! the hawthorn I waved above me white and red, But I never more shall pick it, for my little love is dead I 43 SONG. Every star as twilight grows Nimbly twirls its silver toes ; Every wind doth set the rose Dancing on its briar sweet ; Every heart its gladness knows, Every lover's heart must beat. Then it trippeth lightly, lightly, Lightly as a maiden's feet. Every twang of Cupid's bows Singeth out a maiden's name ; Every dart the urchin throws Hath a maiden's breast for aim ; Maidens' eyes make lovers' flame, Maidens' sighs are lovers' fame. Therefore, love, come softly, softly. Softly not to fright the game. 44 NEW YEAR BELLS. What say the bells ? Where are last year's joys ? Gone like April flowers that a breath destroys. Joys are shining pilgrims in a world bereaven : With a sound of song Come the angel throng, Pass through our doors and wander on to Heaven. What say the bells ? Where are last year's woes? Here, here for ever ; thorns outlive the rose. In the darkened chambers whence our gladness fled, Through the lagging days, Hooded sorrow stays. By the cold hearthstone brooding o'er the dead. What say the bells ? Cast away thy grief, Let thy future freshen with the springing leaf; April buds and blossoms shall the graveyard strew, NEW YEAR BELLS. ' 45 Till the falling blooms, Covering the tombs, Make for thy footsteps paths of peace anew. What say the bells ? Heart ! in vain, in vain, Through the drifted blossoms rise the graves again, Yet although in loneliness thy weary ways be set, Faint not, but believe, Better 'tis to grieve, Better to grieve, dear heart, than to forget. 46 CROCUSES. Nurslings of wind ! Soft crocuses ! what do ye here Ere buds on currant-bushes sere With sap are yet incarnadined ? Ere leaves of ash have slipped their sable hoods In meads still silvered o'er by wrinkled floods? Could ye not patient bide Till April wandered down the plains among ? April the bride ! Who Cometh veiled in white that mocks the fleece Of Februar)''s lambs ; — whose voice is song, And water murmuring' of new release, There where the mountain streamlet is untied. Lo ! even now her step is on the hills, And soon for playfellows come daffodils, Her golden trumpeters ; soon one by one Wake the gay birds, and pompously the sun CROCUSES. 47 Like a great cardinal in scarlet state, With his wild choir doth matins celebrate. O gentle pilgrims, go not from the field Where the new season lieth lightly sealed In horny cradles on the thicket spires ; Now feather these afresh each spreading plume, Now runs the sap like wine, and now the briars Mantle their rougher moods with silken bloom. gentle pilgrims, linger and behold The wild white roses dewily uprolled, As all-unconscious sweet as infants' dreams ; Linger and hear the blackbird's song of ruth. Linger and see the daisy-tide that seems The laughter of the meadows in their youth. No, no, alas ! I pipe, I pipe in vain. 1 see ye will not stay To grace with vestal lamp the marriage train, Upon the nuptial day. Fair prophets ! who have borne the storm and smart, ' Preaching sweet light and warmth when all was chill, Now fare ye well, for hence ye must depart, Ere your bright promises themselves fulfil. 48 OLYMPUS IN BABYLON. Come, wandering Poet, leave the hills behind ; The gods are dead ; thou canst not wake them more. No more will Hebe blush or Dian wind Her silver horn upon the forest floor. Pipe as thou wilt, thou may'st not reach the strain That braced Minerva's virgin arm with might, And throbbed to thund'rous clashings of the forge Where limping Vulcan and his Cyclop train Hammered in shadow of their mountain gorge To arm the hero of Homeric fight. VVouldst thou for ever waste a tuneful breath Wooing an echo now austerely mute ? Leave, Poet, leave the mighty ones in death, And to an earthlier music pitch thy lute. The gods are dead I What then ? .Shall men forget OLYMPUS IN BABYLON. 49 To love, to hate, to combat, and to weep ? No, no, though old Olympus' sun be set Its many springs of deathless passion roll Through all humanity, and still we keep These primal powers and Titans of the soul ! Here by the stormy tides that ebb and flow About the lives of men, build thou thy art ; Beat out thy lay, nor deem the key too low That tunes with voices of the human heart. The grace, the strength, the splendour that we crave Lie ever hid these moving deeps among ; Be thine the task from daily foam and drift New shapes divine, new glorj^ to uplift, Like Aphrodite from the morning wave. In perfect loveliness of truthful song. so FAIRY SONG. When daisies close and poppies nod, And meadow grass to earth is laid, And fairies dance on moonlit sod. Or quaff of devvdrops in the shade, Come ! gentle dreams, in velvet shod, And foot it round each sleeping maid. Come softly hither, dove-winged flock, And on their pillows make your nest, And light as down from puff-ball clock Let kisses on their eyes be prest, Then sit upon the couch and rock Each tender little heart to rest. I SI AT SUNDOWN. O TENDRIL of ivy aitd tangle of tree, Wild are the bafiks of my ain countrie / The sun is sinking low in the west, A golden ball o'er the mountain crest ; Shafts of light pierce the moorland's breast. Wild are the banks of my ain countrie. O purple of heather and silver of sea, Bright are the hues of my ain countrie ! A fairy knight rides out of the wold, A lady's sleeve round his helm is rolled ; His coal-black charger is shod with gold. Bright are the hues in my ain countrie. O ripple of streamlet and murmur of bee, Sweet are the sounds in my ain countrie ! He throws me, passing, a glance remote ; A wandering lark in the clouds afloat Hath stabbed my soul with its tender note. Sweet are the sounds in my ain countrie. S3 AT SUNDOWN. O shadow of pine-wood and silence of ica. Cold /alls the dew in my ain countrie! The love-light fades in the amber sky And grey mists over the forest fly ; We are alone, my heart and I. Cold falls tlic dcij in my ain countrie. S3 THE SILENT KNIGHT. October days, frail daughters of the sun, O'erweighted by the pomp of royal state, Early decline and darken to their death. For earth luxurious grown through glut of gold. Sated with splendour, riotous and rich, With reckless pageant fills a lawless court, And flings her treasures broadcast to the wind ; Nor dreams the wintry foe is at her gate Till warned of Heaven, whose avenging hand, — Which once in halls of gorgeous wickedness Wrote Mejie, Tekel, Phares, on the walls, Striking cold terror and confusion there, — Now, in the night, on every leaf and blade With frosty finger writes its doom in rime. I was a pilgrim once in sylvan ways, 'Neath skies as blue as June, and yet I knew The Autumn world was in its agony. 54 THE SILENT KNIGHT. The sweat of death lay heavy on the grass, And damp and hmp hung ferns along the hedge ; Leaves fluttered slowly down in amber drifts, Or else like curved and crumpled golden shells Lay strewn about the path, from ebbing tides Of Summer beauty washed on Winter's shore. And where the level sun glanced through the trees, Fringing with glory and ethereal light Their ragged boughs, and all the forest shone Transfigured in the pure embrace of Heaven, In a green spot remote I lit upon An ancient church, that solitary rose Above the crowded loneliness of graves. The door was open ; nothing stirred within Save floating stains of dim magnificence From the great windows framed in moving leaves, And which, like radiant shades of vanished saints. Hovered about the ruins of their shrines. Chill was the air as of that colder age Which quenched the sacred fire in the land, .\nd from the ashes of forbidden rites Proffered dry prayers to a far-distant God. But carven glories of a banished faith THE SILENT KNIGHT. 55 Still lingered brokenly round empty niche, And down the shadowy aisles ; and o'er the dead Immortal garlands kept a hoary Spring Of leaf and bud, where, prone above their tombs A race of knights for ever slept in stone. A line of warrior princes, sires and sons, Each in his armour with his shield on arm, His sword beside engraven with his name ; And at the end of all, where most the light Through lancet panes a moated radiance cast, The marble figure of a maiden stood, Slender upon its massive pedestal. Beneath was carven deep a name, a date, The one word " Silence " in the Latin tongue, And nothing more. But he whose hand had made Of pulseless stone the loveliest thing on earth, A lovely woman, through its earthly veils Of fold, and form, and face, and rippling hair, Had caught the music of the soul within And trammelled it in marble, and it shone A spiritual presence, silver-white. Placed like a wingless angel o'er the dead. Strange contradictions of the grave were here ! Grim satires on the lives now past away ! 56 THE SILENT K'XIGHT. These stalwart knights who loved to fight and feast, Nor often let the abbey walls resound To the bright music of their clinking steel, Reformed by death, now prayed eternally. With hands devoutly joined, and mailed feet Upon th' ancestral lion stiffly placed ! And she, the virgin daughter of the house, Who best mid convent lilies might have lived, Faded with them, and laid her vestal form In its last slumbers 'neath their drifted blooms, Xor habit wore, nor cross, nor heavy coif. Such as beseem the spouses of the Lord, But simplest robes, and o'er her guileless face Beauty's best veil, the veil of mystery. Lo ! she of all the mighty ones at rest Would silence counsel, yet alone did speak ; And mute perchance in life, when ruder tones Of kinsmen echoed round her, had in death A voice to bridge the chasm of years wherein They and their noisy deeds engulfed lay ! The heavens flamed and paled ; the twilight hour Descended with the dew on humbler graves Without the porch. I left the church and paced THE SILENT KNIGHT. Z7 Among the ruined monastery walls, Where beaded flowers wept about my feet In ways of death, and chilly scents arose As of an Autumn garden, coldly sweet ; In boughs of yew a tender robin piped Its sad insistent song ; all else was hushed. It was a windy evening, and the grass Stirred on the graves as though long-quiet hearts Began to beat within ; the present hour Faded away, and shadows of the past Mingled with those now creeping o'er the mounds. And I struck out a path across the fields. While silver stars came trembling forth in turn Through orange rifts of sky above the hills ; But not alone I walked, for phantom forms And one fair ghost of peerless loveliness Hovered beside me : and I reached the inn, The old-world inn where old tradition held Time-honoured court beneath a gabled roof. With beating heart and all my brain on fire To learn the legend of the marble maid. Simplicita, the last of all her race. The last pale blossom on the hoaiy thorn. Far from her father's court to holy walls 58 THR SILENT KNIGHT. Was brought one Summer's morn, a fragile babe Too early motherless. And there the nuns Received her lovingly as God's own gift, And, mid a thousand prayers of purest lips Breathed hourly to the Lord, the flickering life Shot up a steady flame and sweetly glowed Round hearts that had maternity forsworn. Unconscious of her orphaned state, the child Waxed strong and beautiful, and daily ran With pattering feet among the sisterhood. From choir to hall, from hall to garden-ways. Nor needed playfellows, but on the walls Traced elfin faces in discoloured cracks, And found in each familiar tree a friend ; Loved hound, and flock, and fowl, and oft, while yet A little tumbling thing whose small bright head Scarce reached the lowest bud on lily stems. Would pause from play in cloistered squares to watch The convent doves, as high against the blue They wheeled, the light upon their breasts, and beat With shadow-coloured wings the golden air. Then, all in ecstasy, the little maid. Waving small arms in impotent desire, THE SILENT KNIGHT. 59 Would dance and caper on the paven court, And ape their feathered joys and long for wings : — So sweet a vision that her keepers deemed The grimmest gargoyle on the ancient roof Had lion jaws wide spread to smile on her ! Later, when childish freedom was exchanged For early tasks and manners more sedate. Her joy was unperceived to slip away Alone, through abbey woods and meadow-lands, And watch in Spring the painted finches flit Round tiieir small nest embosomed in the thorn ; Or breathe the woodbine's incense as it drooped Its antlered head above a noontide pool ; To the mild summons of the vesper bell Returning from her rambles erst at eve. Blooming and fearless ; for the gentle nuns Forbore to chide their truant, knowing well That sights and sounds of nature sinking deep In souls unconscious, leave their freshness there. And lend to youth an added youthfulness. So passed the lengthy sheltered years away. Clustered about with tearful hopes and prayers As thick as dewy leaves around a nest. And evermore her aunt, the Abbess, strove 6o THE SILENT KNIGHT. To fit the girl for splendid cares to come ; And daily sought to cram the fledgling mind With such sound knowledge as beseemed her rank. But she, as much as in her nature lay, Loathed the mock blossoms in her tapestry, And poring on the convent's crabbed books Stumbled o'er letters, shedding countless tears, And held them dark and dwarfish foes to joy. Thus, although docile, dutiful, and sweet, And humbly anxious her good aunt to please, Simplicita with learning strove in vain ; And those, who fain around her young mind's dawn Had painted their own hopes in glowing tints. Saw with misgiving as it broadened out, Faint vapours clouding o'er the perfect light. And blankly felt the day was colourless. Yet none the less, her innocence of heart Shed its own halo round her looks serene ; And now though turning seasons brought her height And stately bearing, ever on her brow Shone out the look that mothers love in babes When soft they say, " The angels speak with them !" THE SILENT KNIGHT. 6i Seventeen years had passed and it was Spring, Spring, and the convent rooks began to dream Of sable broods among the budding elms Outside the Abbess' cell. The Abbess slept After a long day's work, oppressed with years And toil and prayer, when of a sudden rose A gale without, and though it woke her not, She dimly heard the storm-bird's voice and knew The buffet of its pinions on the panes. And all her mind made war with dreadful shapes ; Wild dreams in phantom ships that ride by night Upon the formless billows of the wind, And, wrecked upon our pillows, cast their freight Of fears chaotic through the helpless brain. Then she bethought her of the building rooks And pitied them, and seemed to see them dashed From writhing trees above their shattered nests ; And as she gazed, behold ! they were not rooks, But eagles hovering fierce about a lamb — A white ewe-lamb that bleated not, nor stirred ; And then a time of darkness came and lo ! The child of her old age, Simplicita, Entered her dream and stood beside the couch. One taper finger resting on her lips, And on her face the doubtful, piteous smile 6a THE SILENT KNIGHT. That little children wear when angry tones Scare them from play, and all perplext they stand, With trembling hearts, unconscious of their fault. Fain had the Abbess roused her then to speak. And stretch out loving arms, but could not move ; And as she struggled, downward bent the maid And whispered " Silence." With the word she woke To feel her tower rocking in the gale ; But over and above the sounds of storm, The cawing rooks and gusts of driving rain. Heard a loud knocking at the convent gates, .\nd her heart knew it was its knell of doom. Trembling she rose and met the frightened nuns. Scattered like sheep unpenned about their cells ; While ever louder trampling hoofs and steps- Of heavy feet in vaulted ways of stone Woke unaccustomed echoes in the place, And the rude message came from those below : " The prince is dead : deliver up the girl, For she must sit upon her father's throne, And hold his realm against the foe without ! " O then came long embraces, clinging, tears ; Last words half choked of counsel, comfort, hope ; THE SILENT KNIGHT. 63 A flash of torches, armour gleaming out, Retreating steps, and all was emptiness. And the dawn breaking shone on splintered boughs, Tom nests, and on the vacant stall in choir. Near which the aged Abbess knelt and raised Above the bowed and weeping sisterhood A voice scarce audible for years and grief : " O God ! who givest and who takest away, Keep Thou our lamb unspotted from the world ! " Weeks passed ; then came a rumour from the court, A poisoned shaft to pierce the convent walls, The noble maid was well, but sad of mien, Nor loved the pageants made to welcome her. The knights and barons murmured, and rebelled At bending stubborn heads before a nun. Or so they called her I — then came cautious hints Concerning one, a kinsman of the prince, In touch with all the nobles, and whom some Had fain seen lord of what his cousin left. Quarrels were rife. One scarce could blame the girl; Belike she still was mourning for the prince. 64 THE SILENT KNIGHT. So much the Abbess with misgiving heard, Knowing the child, however dutiful, Had never felt nor missed a father's love ; And fearing worse tilings for Simplicita, And war and bloodshed in the land throuj^h her, Crushed down the yearning mother in her heart And sent a missive by a trusty squire, Bearing on duty ; couched in bracing terms, Herself from duty too forbore to speak One over tender word, nor laid her bare The wound still raw and smarting for her loss. The letter reached Simplicita at eve, Within the summer palace as she sate High in her bower, above the noisy hall, And lonely, for her women were at meat ; And what it said and what it left unsaid Struck daggerwise on her bewildered soul. A coarser beauty and a stouter heart Had carried all before them ; or had hers Been of those natures light as thistledown, Whose chiefest charm is that they care to charm, Yet careless are of what they most have charmed, She might have held grave wisdom's self in thrall, Chained to the movements of capricious brows. But ever lowly, diffident of self. THE SILENT KNIGHT. 65 The half-concealed contempt of those around Crushed her meek life ; she lacked the skill to mend, Grew daily more perplext, and scared, and sad : And the word "witless" passed from mouth to mouth. One joy she had ; the people worshipped her, Won by her beauty and her gentle ways, No less than by the free largesse she gave, Her poorer vassals loved her, and would throng About her palfrey as she rode to church, Kissing her garments, hanging on her smiles ; This was in truth her only happiness. Yet since dissensions in the land had risen. Voices from every class rose up to urge That she should wed her kinsman, and so drown With bridal bells the noisy brawls. But she, Loathing the name of marriage and the man (Wlio led a riotous life nor cared for her, But fain had filled his coffers with her gold,) Pleaded her youth, her father's death, and gave Evasive answers, thinking in her heart Soon to contrive a meeting with her aunt. From whose wise counselling she hoped to learn How best the people to conciliate. And please the court, yet live and die a maid. F 66 THE SI LEST KNIGHT. Now came the missive brimmed with words of weight : The Ufe of princes lies 'twixt realm and God ! So far as Heaven allows they must in all Their subjects' wishes meet, though this involve The utmost sacrifice of self. The maid Must convent ways forget and learn to rule, And where experience failed her, take advice Of those great lords and learned counsellors Who had her father's ear in days gone by. So wrote the Abbess, and the nuns to choir Trooping at eventide, ere yet the stars Lit their faint tapers round the young dead day, Prayed all good angels guard Simplicita, Whom, in theirdreams of things to come, they saw Enthroned on high amid a glittering court. The blameless ruler of a happy realm, And joined in time to some great prince and kind. Beneath whose care their drooping convent bud Might blossom into rosier womanhood. O had their eyes been opened to the truth, How had these simple hearts been torn with grief ! How had the loving Abbess wept to see. THE SILENT KNIGHT. 67 Within a turret chamber leagues away, Her letter lying on the rush-strewn floor, Blurred with despair ; and in a heap beside The broidered veil, rich clasps, and strings of gems With which when first she doffed her convent garb Obsequious dames had 'tired Simplicita ; While down the twilight stair there past, unseen Of those who sang and supped in hall, the maid. Lady of all, and flying from wealth abhorred ! II. In forest ways without, where tangled leaves Made ebon tracery upon the sky. And, from the sunset, monstrous cloudy shapes, With streaming hair and manes, held fiery sport, Brightening and darkening round the windy hills. The palace jester all in pied attire Sate on a bough amid the sprouting fern. Sick of enforced revelry in hall. The dusky air was full of notes and wings, Dim dewy leaves, and scent of springing grass. And now and then a stealthy footfall told Of wild and furry woodland things at large 68 THE SILENT KNIGHT. Roaminj,' the thickets in the doubtful Ught. A hare sprang past and then a fawn drew nigli, Testing the air with graceful head alert ; Then something paler glimmered in the copse ; '"Tis a white doe," quoth Alaric, the fool, " Yet no, — by Venus' doves ! it is a maid — 'Tis royalty herself I Why, how is this? — Most noble lady, have ye lost your way ? Let me attend ye home ; the night grows late." " O fool ! delay me not, I have no home," Simplicita replied. " Let others nest In what was aye too high a perch for me. Since the bright heaven of my youth hath closed Its holy gates, I wander to my grave. In truth, good jester, I am like the lark, That knows no resting-place 'twixt sky and sod. The crown was over heavy for my head. The lands too wide for me ! So I may find Six feet of earth in which to lie at peace I shall be queen enow, nor want a realm." " Tut, tut," quoth Alaric, " what whim is this ? Death and thy youthful bloom were sore ill- matched. O take a rosier view of life, sweet maid ! Or if alone, thy courage fail thee now, Bethink thee of thy noble kinsman's suit. THE SILENT KNIGHT. 69 Rough diamond as he is, give him thy hand ; 'Tis hard to judge the finest gem unset, And near thine eyes perchance he might reflect A purer beam. Ay, give thy hand, thy heart, For, lady, know the measure of the joy We have in others Hes within ourselves ; They are not great, nor wise, nor good, nor true But as we represent them to our minds ; Of our own riches do we crown them kings When once we love ; the will to love is all. And brings all attributes to grace its train. True love resembles heaven which we see Glass its own depth in every shallow pool And braid the hollow rushes there with stars." Then said Simplicita : " Ay, gentle fool. So that the pool be calm, not passion stirred, Nor spread with evil growth from weeds below, Else were the golden heavens all unseen, Or made to shudder in its troubled depths. But how if that which thou art pleased to call By the high name of heaven were itself Obscured with cloud .-'— then were a double night Worn on the sky, and mirrored in the pool ! O mock me not with words — I have had dreams — But never yet of love ; 'tis not for me. Whose wits have all these years in darkness lain, 70 THE SILENT KNIGHT. Since ere my birth a cold and adverse wind Gathered dull vapours round my helpless fate." "Ay," said the fool, "the coldest wind of all, Blown from the grave. I knew thy mother well ! The wisest of the wise ; — her mind a blade Keen, but the finer edge the sooner turned, And so 'twas blunted on thy brother's bier, When home they brought him stark and stiff to hall. And thou, poor innocent, wert born in grief Yet mark me this, Simplicita ! 'Tis not The deepest lore that makes the fullest bliss ; Hast thou less joy to see the daisy wear. At dawn and sunset, colours of the skies Upon its folded blossoms, and at noon Expand a mimic sun on every mead Because thou art unlearned in its parts ? Would greater knowledge see a brighter disk ? Doth it not shine for fool and sage alike ? O be not over wise, Simplicita, Perchance a sudden flash athwart the clouds Might darken all thy tender heart with death. Eternal Wisdom shaping perfect man For perfect happiness in Eden gave All things unto his hand, but one withheld— Knowledge ; for it and happiness are foes. THE SILENT KNIGHT. 71 Look you, most noble maid, when first man ate Of fruit forbidden in the dawning world He reared himself between the virgin earth And God's great light just risen on the race ; And ever as he travels to his grave His shadow falls before him, so that all Upon his path is darkened with himself And all distorted in his vision lies. O, 'tis an everlasting jest ! 'twould make The laughter of the angels, could they laugh, To see how we, in vain pursuit of that Which God withholds us evermore, invent New gods, new laws, new systems, new beliefs To suit our fallen powers ; and of these What doth Time teach? Their folly, nothing more. For we are fools. From having learnt too much. We know too little now ; and we are fools, And make the things we see our folly share ; Earth, sky, and spheres. Call you the heavens wise ? The foolish round-faced moon that endless turns About a giddy world, and wears for all, Pig-stye and palace, fair and foul alike. The same unmeaning smile. Behold the stars. That see the evil deeds of men and wink ! 72 THE SILENT KNIGHT. Had they true wisdom they might hurl themselves From heaven's vault upon th' offending earth Till it were purged in flame 1 O ay ! the stars ! Or they are fools, or they are over-wise ; Perchance through nightly watching o'er the race They learn what men call wisdom, and refrain From such just vengeance, fearing did they fail In punishment on what were best unseen, They might not easily regain their place ; This is, we know, the wisdom of the great." " Peace ! peace ! I pray thee," said the lady then; " Bend, an thou wilt, the things of mother earth To fit the lowly passage to my wits. But lay not hands on heaven's majesty, WTierein my sick soul's only comfort lies. O, fool, its loftiness o'ertops our thoughts Even as its dome the highest mountain peak I The moon, celestial maid, brings looks serene To bear upon our weakness ; her pure eyes Expel the fiend of darkness where they fall, Nor may she from corruption take alloy. The shield of innocence is innocence And fair reflects all foulness. And the stars I The human stars that beat like living hearts Deep in the bosom of the cold blue night ; THE SILENT KNIGHT. 73 Methinks they once in mother breasts did bum On earth below, and now, though drawn to God, Their yearning passion for us keeps them poised On the extremest confines of their bliss, To throb with every throe of orphans left. Jester, methinks, for all my mind is dark, Had my sweet mother lived, she would have loved me ! " Then groaned the fool and springing to his feet Woke all the dusk with jangling bells, and cried : " Thine be all love, and thine is wisdom too ! Forgive thy fool, twice fool in that he strove By jest ill suited to the hour and theme To lift thy heavy mood to one of smiles. leave thy lonely purpose and the paths Of night and danger in the forest here. And let to-morrow find thee still a queen. Methinks thy singleness of heart should bind The splintered factions to a perfect whole." Then sighed the maid, " Alas ! good Alaric ! More like their ruggedness would pierce my heart Until it bled to death. O stay me not, 1 have more terror of enforced law Than of the lawlessness of forest ways. See how the climbing trees march up the hill, 74 THE SILENT KNIGHT. And how the hills press onward to the sea, And nodding branches beckon from the wood ! All nature calls me and I follow her. Ask me not where. Myself, I know not where In truth I care not, so I may forget The world and all its woes. Farewell, good fool." And then the jester, hoping against hope To keep her there till some should come from court. Armed with authority to break her scheme. And force her back to palace, cried in haste : " Tarrj' awhile, sweet lady ! I have felt Like thee the glamour of the woods, O ay ! Thy mother felt it too, and mid the toil And tedium of the court, she used to watch The summer landscape from her bower, and sing Sweet stanzas, all on peaceful fields and leaves And sliding waters, to refresh her soul. While I behind her gilded chair would crouch, And hold my breath for fear these foolish bells Might break upon her dreams. How does it go. The song she sang ? the song of lonely land ? O tarry yet ; I do remember me. " I know a land, a lonely land. Where green the clustered branches grow, THE SILENT KNIGHT. ■ 75 And o'er a wild and rocky strand, Enchanted rivers foam and flow. " There shine and shadow all the day Creep dreamily athwart the wood, And faint in far-off caverns play The magic pipes of solitude. " There sleeps the troutlet 'neath his stone In waters golden-brown and cool ; And bubbles bursting find a tone To break the silence of the pool. " When sunset flames the flood beside, Adown a path of dappled gold Come troops of deer at eventide, And pause to drink its waters cold ; " About the shining waves they lag. Then through the thickets bound and go ; To every tree a stately stag To every stag a milk-white doe . . . " Most noble lady ! do ye like my song ? " " I like it well," said sweet Simplicita. 76 THE SILENT KNIGHT. I trust no harm befell the gentle deer ? " " Nay," said the fool, " hear on ; the end is best. " There is a prince in lonely land ! His glance is like the sword of light That smites the boles on either hand, In wooded alleys ere the night ; " When outer boughs of pine appear Like galleries of woven fire, And wizard glory gilds the mere, And makes each reed a glancing spire. " And wheresoe'er his look hath wrought, A thousand deep enchantments rise, And simplest things of earth are fraught With wonder from his mystic eyes. " And some have seen his armour white, And blindly tracked the wandering gleam, And lost, and called him phantom knight. And all his kingdom but a dream ; " O Prince ! O Light ! the pure of heart For ever in thine eyes rejoice ; But none may ask thee whence thou art. And none hath ever heard thy voice." THE SILENT KNIGHT. 77 " Then an I meet him, fool, I will not speak," The maiden said, and with these words she smiled So sweetly, that the jester stared and thought On the cold tenderness of angel heads. Whose sculptured eyes behold their hidden God Through veils of stone and tabernacle doors. And saying once again, " I will not speak ! " She waved her hand, and down the silver gleam That sped along the grasses slipt away ; While he, with sad foreboding at his heart. Turned slowly homeward through the trees ; nor dared To follow her, but lingered on the way, And sang at intervals that she might know, If her heart failed her, that he still was near. " O love, when wilt thou come ? " the jester sang, "Wilt come in song, the leaves among, with April's tender light. When topmost boughs of apple-trees are flushed with young delight ; With yearning buds and bleat of lambs amid the daisies white, 78 THE SILENT KNIGHT. Where Spring's warm waves have stirred and swelled and burst their frost-bound home, And dyed the trees and hedges green, and left the fields in foam. " O love, I pray thee, tarry not, for swift the seasons go, Swift melteth from the hawthorn bush its weight of scented snow. Swift purple-hooded Winter stands where now the jonquils blow ; O come while yet the meadows slope in blossom to the sea ; Upon the threshold of the year I pause and wait for thee." High rose his song above the nightingales'. And stilled their ecstasy in hidden bowers ; And faintly too it reached Simplicita, And made an answering music in her heart, Down the wild glen, the home of rushing winds And out into the wilder woods beyond. III. Slow move the jewelled hours across the sky, While sunk in dreams on pillows dull we lie, THE SILENT KXIGIIT. 79 Or mock their flight with lighted dance and song ; But they, disdainful of the world below, Its puny revels and unseeing eyes, Nobly severe, do stately measures tread With Time upon the azure floors of heaven. The glorious firmament is ever young, And bears its Eeons lightly as its stars ; From age to age the galaxies lie strewn Like drifted blossoms of the tree of life Upon celestial plains ; from age to age With argent pomp the heavens celebrate Eternal bridals of the night and moon ; — When Night in majesty descending slow Smoothes his dark brows to greet the awakening Moon, And she, upon the brink of deeps unknown, Trembles a moment, then serenely moves To meet him, riding on the buoyant airs. And she is faithful to her swarthy spouse, But womanlike hath various moods, and times Turns half a scornful loveliness away. On solitary musings bent, and times Hides all with lawny veils of light caprice Which she calls modesty, nor will unmask Altho' he woo her with a thousand stars. But when September ripens through the land, 8o THE SILENT KNIGHT. And the still year is burthened with its fruit, Then she, forgetful of her vapours, hangs Full hearted and with matron majesty Low o'er the fields that wear her liveries gold. And Night rejoicing in her timely smiles Makes her the Queen of gorgeous tournaments Where herald breezes call his shadows forth Trembling from sheaves and leafy fastnesses, Predoomed in swift defeat to shrink and fly Before the shining spearmen of the moon. Midnight had come and gone upon the world. The thickets swayed in sleep and mystery Trailed silken garments lightly o'er the grass. It was the hour when moonlight, water, dew Breathe dim romance, and ever)' little leaf That flutters to his fellow on the bough. Doth lisp of magic to the poet's ear. Among the flowers lay Simplicita, Folded upon herself, with overhead A hundred years of oak. And there her soul Went slipping down white falls precipitous Of sleep, like sliding snows that evermore Struck and were shivered on a jutting thought Of sharp-recurrent woe. But as the night Wore on to dawn, from weariness of tears THE SILENT KNIGHT. 8i Came rest and deeper slumbers and a dream. Lo ! through the seals of sleep, she felt a sigh Of coming change creep o'er the muffled world, And heard low notes of waking birds that seemed To paint the dusk with little shafts of flame. And out of space about her came a field Of tulips blowing, streaked with fire, and then A sound of golden trumpets ringing out, And noise of arms and trampling horse, and sense Of gorgeous pageant yet invisible ; — And as she struggled towards this burst of life, Appeared the palace fool and laid his hands Across her eyes, with warning shriek : " Forbear I Be wise and look not, lest a sudden flash Darken thy tender heart with death I " But she. Impatient, freed her, and the fancied act Dissolved the drifting glamour of her thoughts And changed their current ; — now, it seemed, she stood Within the nunnery church whose pillared height Waved mistily like boughs, and overhead A mighty window gloomed and glanced, whereon, Set round with dancing leaves, a mailed form Majestic, like a warrior angel, stood. In feature sternly beautiful. No sword G 84 THE SILENT KNIGHT. Which brighter grew with ever brightening day, More pallid clear, more nobly beautiful, Till her own soul mysteriously did seem To mirror back its deep felicity. In life our greatest joys deny us peace ! We are so tempered that this edge of bliss But cuts the furrow of our future tears. Our joys are keen for that they daggers hold To stab us unawares ; and all the while We clasp them close in welcome, traitors : they Are whetting stealthy blades upon our hearts. Yet ere the stroke descends we see it gleam ; This is the flash men call presentiment I But naught of fear assailed Simplicita, Nor cast a shadow o'er untravelled ways. Bliss all impersonal was hers ; the sky The beggar's roof and king's ; the placid earth New-burgeoning, and music in the boughs : — Nature most lovely, most familiar things Through avenues of sense her spirit reached, And steeped and strengthened it, and made it glad. Spring had been busy in the night and built Her blushing towers on grey-beard apple-trees, THE SILENT KNIGHT. 85 And spread the thorny brakes with primrose snares To net the poet's numbers unawares. Here o'er deep pits where Winter hid him yet, A lorn and hunted wight, the young May-month Gazed shyly forth through violet eyes divine ; Here cast in sport her rosy aureole down On ragged robin's beggar brows ; and here, Where lady-smocks the banks ensheeted fair, She played at death beneath a maiden pall, Like nuns when first they make their holy vows. Anon Simplicita would break a bough, Foam-white and sparkling as a wavelet's crest, From wilding plum or cherry-tree ; anon A linnet from the bloom escaping shook A glittering shower on her golden hair ; The birds sang sweetly to her as she passed. The squirrel shunned her not ; the snake that lay Like streak of molten ore upon the stones Slipped not away, but raised a wistful head In welcome ; shy and downy-coated things Crept from their lairs to frolic round her steps, And filled the glades with curious lisping notes. Ripple of wings, and small incautious feet Free-pattering through last year's leaves and moss 84 THE SILENT KNIGHT. Which brighter grew with ever brightening day, More pallid clear, more nobly beautiful, Till her own soul mysteriously did seem To mirror back its deep felicity. In life our greatest joys deny us peace ! We are so tempered that this edge of bliss But cuts the furrow of our future tears. Our joys are keen for that they daggers hold To stab us unawares ; and all the while We clasp them close in welcome, traitors I they Are whetting stealthy blades upon our hearts. Yet ere the stroke descends we see it gleam ; This is the flash men call presentiment ! But naught of fear assailed Simplicita, Nor cast a shadow o'er untravelled ways. Bliss all impersonal was hers ; the sky The beggar's roof and kings ; the placid earth New-burgeoning, and music in the boughs : — Nature most lovely, most familiar things Through avenues of sense her spirit reached, And steeped and strengthened it, and made it glad. Spring had been busy in the night and built Her blushing towers on grey-beard apple-trees, THE SILENT KNIGHT. 85 And spread the thorny brakes with primrose snares To net the poet's numbers unawares. Here o'er deep pits where Winter hid him yet, A lorn and hunted wight, the young May-month Gazed shyly forth through violet eyes divine ; Here cast in sport her rosy aureole down On ragged robin's beggar brows ; and here, Where lady-smocks the banks ensheeted fair, She played at death beneath a maiden pall, Like nuns when first they make their holy vows. Anon Simplicita would break a bough, Foam-white and sparkling as a wavelet's crest, From wilding plum or cherry-tree ; anon A linnet from the bloom escaping shook A glittering shower on her golden hair ; The birds sang sweetly to her as she passed, The squirrel shunned her not ; the snake that lay Like streak of molten ore upon the stones Slipped not away, but raised a wistful head In welcome ; shy and downy-coated things Crept from their lairs to frolic round her steps, And filled the glades with curious lisping notes. Ripple of wings, and small incautious feet Free-pattering through last year's leaves and moss 86 THE SILENT KNIGHT. And by and Ijy ilicy left the woods and stood In meads without, and saw a grassy land Slope downwards to the sea, and on the grass Were herds enaureolcd in their own sweet breath, Couchant or grazing, and unnumbered flocks ; — Here 'ncath a thorn they paused, and all was peace From the small innocencies of the field Nodding their foolish heads o'er daisy tufts, To the horizon's edge where cloudlets lay Like other little weary lambs at rest ; — Yea, from a sweep of laughing ruffled seas Whence rose new lambs to meet them — merry flocks That topped the hillocks of the watery plain To fall again within its moving dells ; — The cadenced song of shoreward creeping tides Heightened the dream it made believe to break. It seemed a thousand years since early dawn, So far the world of yesternight ; so fair The present and Simplicita's own heart 1 And yet the sun was scarcely high in heaven When o'er the hills there came a bugle call. By distance thinned to voice of pining gnat, But gathering strength betimes, and all at once A sound of trumpets scared the browsing kine THE SILENT KNIGHT. 87 And sent them flying, and the quiet fields Shook to the thunder of a thousand hoofs. IV. Custom I thou dull and envious wight, who art Inured to ugliness, to beauty blind, And hangest on the skirts of Novelty To trip his rapid steps and cast him down ! Sworn foe to young Enthusiasm ! with hand And iron sceptre ever raised to blunt The edge of life, and level all things flat, To one long, dreary, blank monotony ! Thou — even thou ! hadst days of pomp and fire, Long past, but once with Valour and with Fame Didst wander eager-eyed and call them friends ; Clothe thee in clashing steel ; aye, even now Up these tame years thy trumpets echo still, Thy pennons wave, thy legions fearless move And call them blest to die for God, for King, For Honour, and their lady's will ; — but then Thou wert yet vassal unto Chivalry ! Might we have known those golden days and stood 'Mid old world meadows with Simplicita, When fearful of discovery she slipped 83 THE S/LF.XT AW/GHT. Into an elder copse beside the way, And saw a host of gallant riders pour Along the levels green, to tournament. Throng after throng they came ; a glittering stream Bristling with spears as harbour-tides with masts ; Such martial bearing ! and such faces I — some Aflame with hope, and others ardent pale, Like those at eve on painted windows seen ; A noble thirst for glory writ on all ! — And none beheld the maiden as they wound Past her in line, with scarves and bannerets gay. Like beds of tulips tinted, and the light From every spearhead striking shafts of fire. But young and happy laughter floated back And vaguely troubled her, and vext her mind With haunting memories it failed to grasp. And as, forgetful of all else, she moved Nearer the path, and watched with dreamy eyes This gust of life sweep through the wilderness, A knight belated galloped up in haste, But, spying a fair face 'mid the boughs, drew rein To give her greeting : THE SILENT KNIGHT. 89 " Gentle maid," he said, " For gentle are ye, surely, tho' ye seem So wan, so wistful, and with vesture torn, In straits ill suiting one of lineage high ! — How come ye thus forlorn in this lone land? Command my services, for they are yours. And though my lady waits to see me tilt In yonder stranger city on the plains ;, And though with all my soul and strength I long For love's dear sake and glory's there to win ; Yet do I hold it nobler to forego Such noisy triumph, if by yielding help To any hapless damsel in distress I prove myself, perchance, the worthier knight." '* My thanks, fair sir," Simplicita replied. " But I am not alone, nor in distress. My state is of my choosing ; and the world Through all its happy leagues this happy day Holds not methinks a happier maid than I." Thereat the knight smiled courteously, and part To let his panting horse draw breath, and part To ease his mind of what lay uppermost. He made his good steed stand, and spake again : "Are ye so happy? Is the world so fair? O then, sweet lady, I will read your heart By what is written in mine own. Ye love 90 THE SILENT KNIGHT. And him ye love, loves back, and when 'lis so All things seem rosy in love's rosy light. And I will swear that when ye stole to trj'st, As I perceive ye did in these wild woods, Ve felt no thorn o'erhead, nor stone afoot For joy in meeting there your own true knight I " " Not so !" Simplicita exclaimed, " Sir knight. Such things as these ye name are not for me ! " " O ay ! " he said and laughed, " Maids ever say ' Not so ! 'tis false,' and think therewith to draw Shy hangings 'twixt their eyes and timid hearts. But men may speak the truth, and this is truth ; Of our own temper do we paint the world Which else were barren sand and leaf and blade. And therefore every little bird on bough Doth sweetly sing to me of her I love ; The lark trills out my rapture with his own. And heaven itself hath borrowed from my dear Her azure eyes serene to give me light. In all things fair I see her, hear her, love her ! — And lived she not, then lived they not forme I . . . What power hath this gentlest mood of all I My heart that never quailed in fight or tilt. Though menaced times and scores of times with death — If one but speak my lady's name 1— this heart THE SILENT KXIGHT. 91 Starts like a troutlet in yon stream, and all The current of my life is stirred with joy ! But, damsel, since ye need no aid from me, And since my gracious mistress waits for me, I go to win her honour, as I hope. O wish me well ! and may your own fair face Both light and loadstar be to him ye love For ever, as my lady's is to me ! " Thereat with low obeisance he passed Out of her sight, and on to lands unknown ; And with him passed the glory of the hour. But barbed memories of his speech remained To prick Simplicita, perturb her mind. And strike a hundred thousand petty flaws Upon her morning's mood of smooth content. Now all at once she saw herself, her fate ; How blank a past — a future how unkind — And the time present changeful as a dream ! And like a child upon its broken toy. She gazed on what erewhile had made her bliss. Yet none less blithely called the mounting finch, The sky was all as blue, the flowers as sweet 98 rilF. SILENT KNIGHT. As when she woke at dawn, and through the fields Moved ever by her side the Silent Knight. Then came the thought, " Can this be all in life ? And shall I never know a fuller joy ? Never be loved as other women are ? And die unsought, unhonoured and alone?" She shivered, for the day had chilled, there rose A little cloud about the sun, the Knight Moved in the shade, his shining armour dulled, His plumes blown grey and thin like vapour tossed And all his look grown wan. Then through a screen Of willow-boughs across the stream, came sound Of voices singing where upon the banks .■\ lusty shepherd and his lass had tryst : "When Dian leads her silver sheep To pasture them in fields divine, And winds do shear them where they shine. And whirl above the farmer's roof Their unsubstantial fleeces fine ; When weary lids are kissed by sleep. And dreams keep watch o'er closed eyne. THE SILENT KNIGHT. 93 Wilt thou for ever shine aloof? O lady mine ! O lady mine ! " Thus sang the shepherd trolling out the words, And treble tones then took the ditty up : " The maiden moon once left her sheep To whisper in a shepherd's ear, And lest the little stars might hear, She bade the laughing winds to blow ; But lo ! the nested nightingale Upon its wedding-bough was near. And sang so loud the pretty tale, That all the world hath learnt it now. Since all the pretty tale do know That Dian whispered on the steep. To give her gentle shepherd cheer. Wilt thou for ever silence keep ? My lover dear ! My lover dear ! " O what a niggard world is this of ours ! Here's not enough of bliss for all ; the thing We make our stepping-stone to joy may prove A stumbling-block to others' happiness ! " Wilt thou for ever shine aloof ? Wilt thou For ever silence keep ?" — these idle lines 94 THE SILENT KNIGHT. O'er wliich the clownisii lovers laughed ami kissed, Swelled the meek bosom of Simplicita, Bore down her caution, beat about her heart, Till all her gathered passion burst its dam. " O thou I " she cried, " whom I have followed thus Through fairj'-land, hast thou no care for me? No voice to tell me whence thou art ? — no joy In aught but soulless things. Lo I now my life Is weary. Human hearts must feed on more Than beauty, be it ne'er so beautiful ; And mine would fain have something of its own. Speak, therefore. Knight, and say thou love^t me ! " Then the earth yawned or so it seemed ; the wind Laughed fiercely overhead and boughs convulsed Beat wildly down between her and the Knight ; And all was pain and chaos ; but she saw In his clear eyes immeasurable scorn, •And saw him then no more. A band of men Urging o'erridden horses galloped up •And hemmed her in upon the reeling ground ; THE SILENT KNIGHT. 95 And one from saddle rolling, in a voice That brought the loathed past about her ears, Roared " Halt 1 " and barred the way. Her kinsman 'twas, Who with his knights had scoured the land since dawn In vain pursuit, and now at last informed By one that early came to tend the flocks, Set spur and leaped on her where two roads met. Here, face to face with nobles of her court, Whose flushed and frowning foreheads and fierce eyes Added fresh terrors to the strident tones Of their amazed questions ; — dumb she stood, With vacant looks like one aroused from sleep ; Till, seeing she answered not, disdainfully They tossed her on her kinsman's steaming horse And turned them back to palace through the trees. Then blank despair o'ercame Simplicita Half-swooning in her loveless wooer's arms ; Thereafter too, with fever gripped, she hung For many weary weeks 'twixt life and death. And thence by slow degrees her gentle soul Sank deep and deeper into childishness. 96 THE SILENT KNIGHT. For she was gentle ever, though she grew To loathe all sound, and times with queenly air Provoking smiles, forbade her ladies speech ; But oftener paced her garden ways and wept, And cried out " hush ! " to little piping birds. And bade the winds and babbling stream be stili And " Silence, silence ! " called, till those who watched Feared her weak breath would rave itself away. But all was still at last. Upon a day That winds were stripping off the useless leaves, And drifts of wandering wings beflecked the sky : And there came moving clouds and farewell cries. And sweet and solemn hurry in the air, As though the year were gathering up its skirts Regretfully, on its long journey bent, Against the chinks of her unopening door The jester sate, his foolish face all tears. And knew the end was nigh. Beside him crouched Simplicita's great hound, with restless ears Marking each sound within, and now and then As fitful steps drew near and mocked his wish THE SILENT KNIGHT. 97 The hound sprang quivering up ; but as they passed Dejected sank again in feigned repose. And while they watched and feared, poor faith- ful hearts ! And night and anguish deeper grew, came one Wlio longer yet had watched Simplicita ; And he, 'gainst whom no doors prevail, went in And laid a quiet hand upon her heart. Then broke the morn — then were the gates flung wide — Then came the people bringing woven boughs To deck their Princess dead, and whispering hung About the stair in awe ; — for Death who makes Heroic marble of our human clay. With cold and kindly finger had composed Her childish face in such majestic peace, That those who saw her lying there at rest — Crowned with the gold of autumn woods and tall Beyond their thought of her in life — were smit With vague remorse, as though of treason done To her great sire, and mourned her as their Queen. H 98 THE SILENT KNIGHT. And all that heavy dawn and all the day The bells tolled slowly for Simplicita ; But on the next as she was borne away To burial upon an open bier, In reverence of her cry for silence, past. Their iron-throated sobbing ceased ; nor might The roll of drum be heard, nor music drear, Nor any sound, save only muffled tramp Of crowds that dumbly thronged her funeral train, 'Neath thund'rous skies that yet forbore to break. But round the darkling abbey arches beat Tones ominous, and gathering sounds of storm When those who lingered o'er the last sad rites V^eiled her sweet face and sealed her golden head Fast in the silence of the tomb for ever. CHISWICK TRESS :—C. WHITTINGHAM AND CO.. TOOKS COURT, CHANCERY LANE. UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY Los Angeles This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. Form Lf)-17ni-8,oo(Ba33ys4)444 UliiVi:.iv^Jii i: OF CALIFOKNIA LOS ANGKLES PR Sh99 S98906f l-'C SOUTHFRr-j HfcirmL LIBRARY FACILITY AA 000 376 381